Curiosities of Medical Experience (part 3 of 4)

Curiosities of Medical Experience (part 3 of 4)

It is related of St. Macarius, that one day having killed a gnat that had stung him, he was struck with such compunction at the sight of blood, that by way of atonement, he threw off his clothes, and remained in a state of nudity for six months in a marsh exposed to the bites of every noxious insect. Sozomen in praising this mortification, assures us that this exposure to the inclemency of the weather, did so harden and tan him that his beard could not make its way through the skin.

It has been erroneously supposed that such individuals, being hostile to mankind, are prone to do evil,--this is not generally the case; they seem satisfied with their own sufferings, and only seek to inflict them upon others when roused from their concentration by fanaticism.

A late ingenious writer, in his work entitled "The Natural History of Enthusiasm," has somewhat overdrawn the portrait of these unfortunate but dangerous beings when labouring under the disease, which he thus defines: "It will be found that the elementary idea attached to the term in its manifold applications, is that of fictitious fervour in religion, rendered turbulent, morose, or rancorous by junction with some one or more of the unsocial emotions; or, if a definition as brief as possible were demanded, we should say that fanaticism is enthusiasm inflamed by hatred. Fanaticism supposes three elements of belief: the supposition of malignity on the part of the object of our worship; a consequent detestation of mankind at large, as the subjects of malignant power; and then, a credulous conceit of the favour of Heaven shown to the few, in contempt of the rules of virtue."

Shaftesbury had already said, that "nothing besides ill-humour, either natural or forced, can bring a man to think seriously that the world is governed by any devilish or malicious power." Such a fearful conviction constitutes a clear case of daemonomania. Patients labouring under that malady are ever prone to injure themselves and others, prompted, as they constantly avow, by an evil spirit; but enthusiasts, who live in solitary mortification until a paroxysm of fanaticism draws them from their retreat, seldom or never meditate mischief to others, or indeed that hatred to mankind which our author considers a feature of their condition. Society may become irksome, and may be shunned for ever, without a sentiment of hate. The gayest of the gay may be impelled by feelings more or less morbid to seek a voluntary endurance, to expiate real or imaginary offences, without experiencing a desire of a uselessly vindictive sentiment towards the former companions of their vices or follies. Extremes of depravity and contrition do not infrequently meet; and it has been remarked in Eastern countries, where asceticism arose, that the gates of the most splendid and luxurious cities open upon desert wilds or mountainous solitudes, to which the penitent may flee from his former scenes of ambition and enjoyment.

Such enthusiasts, excepting when enjoying the beatitude of ecstatic exaltation, are more to be pitied than feared. Persecution would most probably drive them to a dangerous state of fanatic rage; and the noble philosopher whom I have already quoted, very justly observes, "They are certainly ill physicians in the body politic who would needs be tampering with these mental eruptions, and, under the specious pretence of healing the itch of superstition, and saving souls from the contagion of enthusiasm, should set all nature in an uproar, and turn a few innocent carbuncles into an inflammation and a mortal gangrene."

Enthusiasts are supposed by their followers to be gifted with the faculty of prophecy; and it is somewhat strange that the ancients considered certain temperaments as best fitted for this inspiration. The atrabilious temperament took the lead; and this melancholy state was to be increased by abstinence, mortification, and more especially rigid continence. The latter privation, indeed, was deemed indispensable for prophets; and the Jewish Rabbins inform us that Moses abandoned his wife Zipporah the very moment that he was prophetically inspired. A physical reason has been adduced to prove the necessity of a chaste life, which I here must be allowed to pass over; but upon the same principle, emasculation was considered as rendering man totally unfit for prophetic revelation, or indeed any holy inspiration; and we find in the first of Deuteronomy that such subjects were not admissible to the service of the Temple.

Jesaias, and some other Jewish writers, have affirmed that Daniel belonged to that class of beings; but it has been shown that the name of Spado, which he bore, merely gave him the high rank that eunuchs held at the Assyrian court. Potiphar bore the same title among the Pharaohs. Baruch Spinosa maintained that temperaments should vary according to the nature of the prophecy; thus, a gay prophet would predict victory and happiness, a gloomy one misery and wars; peace and concord, if he is human; destruction and merciless events, if he were sanguinary: and, in support of his doctrine, he quotes the passage in Kings, where Elisha, when brought before Jehosophat, called for a minstrel ere he predicted that victory should crown the arms of Judah.

Various artificial means have been resorted to at all periods to prepare the intellects for inspirations, by creating a heated imagination. Pliny informs us that, in his days, the root of the Halicacabum, supposed to be a species of hyoscyamus, was chewed by soothsayers. Christopher D'Acosta relates that the Indians employ a kind of hemp called Bangue for the same purpose: and in St. Domingo their supposed prophets masticate a plant called Cohaba. The priestesses of Delphi were also in the habit of chewing laurel-leaves before they ascended the tripod, which it is stated was originally formed of a laurel-tree root with three branches. Sophocles calls the Sibyls [Greek: daphnephagos], laurel-eaters; and thus Tibullus,

Vera cano, sic usque sacras innoxia lauros Vescar, et aeternum sit mihi virginitas.

Auguries were drawn from the burning of the laurel-leaf. If it crackled and sparkled during combustion, the inference was favourable; the reverse, if it was consumed in silence. Propertius alludes to this belief:

Et tacet extincto laurus adusta foco.

Yet so far from possessing exhilarating qualities, laurel-leaves were supposed to diminish the excitement produced by wine; and Martial affirms that the Roman ladies made use of them to drink large potations with impunity:

Foetere multo Myrtale solet vino; Sed fallat ut nos, folia devorat lauri, Merumque, cauta fronde, non aqua miscet.

May it not be inferred that the leaves given to the Pythia might have been those of the Lauro-cerasus, the effects of which are similar to those of prussic acid, producing vertigo, dizziness, and various convulsive symptoms? This tree was first observed by Belon, who discovered it in his eastern voyages in 1546; but it might have been well known to the ancients. We may thus account for the violent convulsions in which the priestesses of Apollo were thrown on these mystic occasions, and which were said to arise from the gas over which they were seated. Although the tree from which the leaves were gathered grew near the temple, and was the common Lauros nobilis, yet the leaves of the Lauro-cerasus might have easily been substituted on the occasion; since, always green and shining, they are not very unlike each other, and the flowers of both trees are pedunculate; and, no doubt, the priests well knew to what extent they could carry the dose to serve their purposes; possibly the modern preparation of noyau might have been a Pythian dram.

The effects of enthusiasm in rendering its victims insensible to all external agents is truly surprising, and cannot be better illustrated than by a relation of the horrors which the famous Convulsionists of Paris and other parts of France underwent, not only voluntarily, but at their most earnest prayer and solicitation.

This work of miracles, as it was called, was first performed by a priest of the name of Paris, in 1724, and strange to say, the aberration continued for upwards of twelve years. Paris having departed this life in the odour of sanctity, (at least according to the conviction of the Jansenists, who had opposed with no little violence the famous bull Unigenitus), the Appellants, for such they thought proper to denominate their sect, appealed to the remains of their beatified companion to operate miracles in support of their common cause. The Appellants were absurdly persecuted, therefore miracles became manifestations easy to obtain. Having succeeded in finding credulous dupes, the next step was to work their credulity into a useful state of enthusiasm. They therefore summoned all the sick, lame, and halt of their sectarians to repair to the tomb of St. Paris for radical relief. Crowds were soon collected round his blessed sepulchre. It is now generally supposed that animal magnetism was resorted to in these curative operations, or rather religious ceremonies. Had not the means thus employed for the purpose been recorded and authenticated by the most irrefragable authorities, the sceptic might long pause before he would yield them credence.

The patient (a female) was stretched on the ground, and the stoutest men that could be found were directed to trample with all their might and main upon her body; kicking the chest and stomach, and attempting to tread down the ribs with their heels. So violent were these exertions, that it is related a hunchbacked girl was thus kicked and trampled into a goodly shape.

The next exercise was what they called the plank, and consisted in laying a deal board upon the patient while extended on the back, and then getting as many athletic men as could stand upon it, to press the body down; and in this endeavour they seldom showed sufficient energy to satisfy the supposed sufferer, who was constantly calling for more pressure.

Next came the experiment of the pebble, a diminutive name they were pleased to give to a paving-stone weighing two-and-twenty pounds, which was discharged by the operator upon the patient's stomach and bosom, from as great a height as he could well raise the weighty body. This terrific blow was frequently inflicted upwards of a hundred times, and with such violence, that the house, and the furniture of the room, vibrated under the concussion, while the astonished bystanders were terrified by the hollow sound re-echoed by the enthusiast at every blow.

Carre de Montgeron affirms that the pebble was not found sufficiently powerful, and the operator was obliged in one case to procure an iron fire-dog (chenet), weighing about thirty pounds, which was discharged as violently as possible on the pit of the patient's stomach at least a hundred times. This instrument having for the sake of curiosity been hurled against a wall, brought part of it down at the twenty-fifth blow. The operator further states, that he had commenced according to the usual practice, by inflicting moderate blows, until he was induced by her lamentable entreaties to redouble his vigour, but all to no purpose; his strength was unavailing and he was obliged to employ a more athletic surgeon, who fell to work with such energy that he shook the whole house. The convulsionist, who was of the gentle sex, would not allow sixty blows she had received from her first doctor to be included in the calculation of the dose, but insisted upon having her whole hundred as prescribed. It further appears, that at each stroke the delighted enthusiast would exclaim in ecstacy, "Oh, how nice!" "Oh, what good it does me!" "Oh, dear brother, hit away--again--again!" For be it known, these operators were called by the affectionate name of brothers, whose claims to fraternal affection were in the ratio of the weight of their kindness towards the sisterhood.

One of these young ladies, who was not easily satisfied, wanted to try her own skill, and jumped with impunity into the fire, an exploit which obtained her the glorious epithet of Sister Salamander. The names that these amiable devotees gave to each other were somewhat curious. They all strove to imitate the whining and wheedling of spoiled children, or petted infants; one was called L'Imbecile, another L'Aboyeuse, a third La Nisette, and they used to beg and cry for barley-sugar and cakes; barley-sugar signified a stick big enough to fell an ox, and cakes meant paving-stones. The excesses of these maniacs were at last carried to so fearful an extent, and their religious ceremonies were so debased by obscenities that the police was obliged to interfere, and forbid these detestable practices; hence it was affirmed that the following somewhat impious notice was suspended over the church-door:

De par le Roi, defense a Dieu, De faire miracle en ce lieu.

These lunatics, for such they must be considered, were not impostors. They had been worked to this degraded state by the plastic power of superstition, and implicit reliance was placed in their assertions; for, as Pascal said, "we must believe people who are ready to have their throats cut." Whether the Jansenist priests belonged to the same class, I leave to the reader to decide.

Cabanis, in his interesting work, "Rapports du Physique et du Moral de l'Homme," offers the following remarks on this most curious subject: "Sensibility may be considered in the light of a fluid the quality of which is determined, and which, when carried to certain channels in greater proportion than to others, must of course be diminished in the latter ones. This is evident in all violent affections, but more especially in those ecstasies where the brain and other sympathetic organs are possessed of the highest degree of energetic action, while the faculty of feeling and of motion--in short, the vital powers--seem to have fled from the other parts of the system. In this violent state, fanatics have received with impunity severe wounds, which, if inflicted in a healthy condition, would have proved fatal or most dangerous; for the danger that results from the violent action of external agents on our organs depends on their sensibility, and we daily see poisons, which would be deleterious to a healthy man, innocuous in a state of illness. It was by availing themselves of this physical disposition that impostors of every description, and of every country operated most of their miracles; and it was by these means that the Convulsionists of St. Medard amazed weak imaginations with the blows they received from swords and hatchets, and which in their ascetic language they called consolations. This was the magic wand with which Mesmer overcame habitual sufferings, by giving a fresh direction to the attention, and establishing in constitutions possessed of great mobility a sense of action to which they had been unaccustomed. It was thus also that the Illuminati of France and Germany succeeded in destroying external sensations amongst their adepts, depriving them in fact of their relative existence."

In these phenomena we do not witness miracles or supernatural agency. Enthusiasts are simply maniacs. Like maniacs, their vital endowments are deranged; they lose the faculty of feeling, of reasoning, of comparing, of associating their ideas; their volition, their memory have fled, and all the functions of organic life are more or less disturbed. Rousseau never proved more clearly that his own intellectual faculties were occasionally impaired, than when he stated "that the state of reflection is unnatural, and that the man who meditates is a depraved animal."

Insanity may be divided into four species:

1st, Monomania, and melancholy, in which the delirium is confined to one or few objects.

2nd, Mania, where the delirium embraces a variety of impressions, and is accompanied with violence.

3rd, Dementia, or insanity in the full acceptation of the word, where the senses are totally bewildered, and the faculty of thinking destroyed.

4th, Imbecility or idiotcy, where, from imperfect organisation, ratiocination cannot be correct.

To the first of these categories enthusiasts generally belong. Delirium, or wandering, is to a certain extent applicable to all, being a want of correspondence between judgment and perception. Locke and Condillac characterize madness as a false judgment, or a disposition to associate ideas incorrectly, and to mistake them for truths. Hence it is observed by Locke that "Madmen err, as men do that argue right from wrong principles." Dr. Beattie refers madness to false perception; and Dr. Mason Good, justly remarks, that "the perceptions in madness seem, for anything we know to the contrary, to be frequently as correct as in health, the judgment or reasoning being alone diseased or defective."

I hope that I may not be accused of materialism when I venture to affirm that all these enthusiasts labour under a physical disease; but whether this state was originally brought on by a morbid condition of the intellectual or the empassioned faculties of the mind, or, in other words, whether a diseased state of the mind brought on a diseased state of the body, I shall not at present venture to decide, as the disquisition would be foreign to the nature of this work, and lead us into investigations of little interest to the generality of readers.

In the German Psychological Magazine we meet with a curious case of a patient who believed that he was supernaturally endowed with the power of working miracles. The man was a gend'arme of the name of Gragert, of a harmless and quiet disposition, but rather of a superstitious turn of mind. From poverty, family misfortunes, and severe military discipline, a series of sleepless nights and a mental disquietude were brought on that, according to his own report, nothing could dissipate but a perusal of pious works. In reading the Bible he was struck with the book of Daniel, and was so much pleased with it, that it became his favourite study; from that moment the idea of miracles so strongly possessed his imagination, that he began to believe that he could perform some himself. He was persuaded more especially that if he were to plant an apple-tree with the view of its becoming a cherry-tree, such was his power that it would bear cherries. He was wont to answer every question correctly, except when the subject concerned miracles, in regard to which he ever entertained his old notions; adding, however, that he would relinquish this thought if he could be convinced that the event of his trials did not correspond with his expectations.

That many enthusiasts, although incurable in their peculiar aberration, have possessed some amiable qualities, is undeniable. Such rare occurrences remind one of the curious case of madness recorded by Tidemann of a lunatic of the name of Moses, who was insane on one side, and who observed his insanity with the other; his better half constantly rebuking his worse half for its absurdities. This case was certainly typical of the married state.

In vain have physicians endeavoured to break through this morbid catenation of incongruous ideas by diversions, or what the French call distractions, which in general answered to our literal translation of the word, and distracted their patients. Dramatic performances were once allowed in a mad-house near Paris; but the violence of the maniacs, the moroseness of the melancholy, and the stupidity of the idiots, rendered the exertions of the actors perilous to some, and idle to all. Mr. D'Esquirol once took one of his patients to a play, and the man swore that every performer who came on was making love to his wife; and a young lady, placed in a similar situation, exclaimed that all the people were going to fight about her. Jealousy and vanity were, no doubt, the ruling passions in both these cases. Travel has been recommended both by the ancients and the moderns. Seneca on this subject quotes Socrates, who replied to a melancholy wight who complained that his journeys had afforded him no amusement, "I am not surprised at it, since you were travelling in your own company."

The contagion of enthusiasm is a marvellous fact. Pausanias relates that the malady of the daughters of Proetus, who ran about the country fancying that they were transformed into cows, was common amongst the women of Argos. Plutarch states that a disease reigned in Miletium, in which most of the young girls hung themselves; recent observations have confirmed this singular circumstance. Dr. Deslages, of St. Maurice, relates that a woman having hanged herself in a neighbouring village, most of her companions felt an invincible desire to follow her example. Primrose and Bonet tell us that at one period it was found difficult to prevent the young girls in Lyons from casting themselves into the river. Simon Goulard has recorded the prevalent madness amongst the nuns of the States of Saxony and Brandenburg, and which soon extended its influence to Holland, during which these religious ladies "predicted, capered, climbed up walls, spoke various languages, bleated like sheep, and amused themselves by biting each other." History has recorded the horrible judicial murder of Urbain Grandier, at Laudun, who was sacrificed for bedevilling a nunnery. The recent gift of tongues amongst the Irvingites is still in full vigour, and the Southcotians are still on the look-out in London, as the Sebastianists are in Lisbon.

Addison has remarked that an enthusiast in religion is like an obstinate clown, and a superstitious man like an insipid courtier. On this subject he quotes the following old heathen saying recorded by Aulus Gellius--Religentem esse oportet, religiosum nefas; for, as the author tells us, Nigidius observed upon this passage, that the Latin words which terminate in osus generally imply vicious characters, or the having any quality to excess. That we should enthusiastically admire all that is holy, sublime, or endowed with uncommon superiority in religion, in poetry, in the fine arts, is not only justifiable but praiseworthy. Genius cannot exist without a certain degree of fervour; its inspiration is a gift divine, naturally associated with a religious feeling. The man thus inspired must bend in humble admiration before the wondrous harmony that surrounds him. The poet, the painter, the musician, can only seek excellence by studying primitive perfection. Nothing that is not natural can be truly sublime or beautiful. A rigid observation of nature can alone lead to superiority, and we can only be taught to create by, endeavouring to imitate the beauties of the creation. How distant are these generous feelings from the low grovelling prejudices of bigotry! We admire perfection even in our enemies; and Erasmus was not a truant to his faith when, transported with Socrates's dying speech, he exclaimed, "O Socrates! I can scarce forbear kneeling down to thee, and praying,

Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis."

While considering this interesting subject, a curious question arises: is enthusiasm more frequently excited by truth than by error? I sadly fear that the latter influence will in general be found to predominate, although falsehood then assumes the deceptive garb of veracity. The noble writer whom I have already cited,[19] has justly said, "that truth is the most powerful thing in the world, since even fiction itself must be governed by it, and can only please by its resemblance."

To what then are we to attribute this power that fallacy possesses of inspiring the mind with visionary hopes and fears? Simply because we cease to reason upon matter of fact, and soar in fanciful regions in search of a flittering phantom, a creature of our own imaginative faculties. What falls every day under our personal observation ceases to amaze, and one might even become familiarized to miracles were they of frequent occurrence. Man is naturally disposed to admire what he cannot understand, and to venerate what is incomprehensible. The nature of the divinity being essentially incomprehensible, a religious character is attached to all other subjects that are equally beyond the limits of our understanding. Sir Thomas Brown has said, "Methinks there be not impossibilities enough in religion for an active faith. I love to lose myself in a mystery, to pursue my reason to an O altitudo! I can answer all the objections of Satan and my rebellious reason, with that odd resolution I learned from Tertullian, Certum est quia impossibile est." From our earliest infancy we are delighted with fictions, which we verily fancy to be relations of true facts, and whether we believe with the ancients in the metamorphoses of heathen mythology, the absurd papal stories of the miracles of their saints, or the wondrous incidents of a fairy tale, we listen to these rhapsodies with avidity; whether Jupiter is turned into a shower of gold, St. Denis and St. Livarius travel with their heads under their arm, or Tom Thumb pulls on his seven-league boots. These absurdities are our day thoughts, our night dreams--nay, busy fancy does so dwell on these enchanting phantasies, that, in some cases, the intellectual faculties become deranged, and I have at present under my care, a female who lost her reason by constantly reading the Arabian Nights, and who in her hallucinations, describes as many marvellous voyages as could have done the sailor Sinbad.

The foundation of incredulity no doubt is ignorance, but too often we find men of refined education and feeling the most easily imposed upon by incredible assertions; we seldom experience as much enthusiasm in the possession of any object as in the pursuit, more especially if that pursuit be vain. The merchant who has realized a splendid fortune in his commercial ventures, is satiated with his business, and becomes careless in the pursuit of greater riches, but let him for one moment contemplate the possibility of discovering the philosopher's stone, he will lose, and cheerfully too, all his past earnings in the chimerical pursuit, and the man who would doze over his ledger, will spend his sleepless nights contemplating his crucibles, and studying the black art.

What is there of an exciting nature in the common events of life and the usual course and uniformity of nature? Very little. However wondrous the works of the creation may be, habit has so accustomed us to behold them, that they are familiar to our eyes; they become matter of fact, and science has taught us to comprehend the nature of many phenomena, which might otherwise have appeared incredible: but when we seek for an unattainable object, however fallacious its attraction may be, the mind is roused to energetic action: if we strive to excel all others in the fine arts, in poetical productions, we become fired with an exalted zeal, which age and experience alone can temper. In our vain pursuit of ideal perfection, the mind may be compared to a focus in which our burning thoughts are concentrated, until we are consumed by disappointment: the love of Pygmalion was probably the most ardent passion that could fire the breast of man. Enthusiasm laughs to scorn the suggestion of the senses and common understanding, therefore all its priests and votaries are surrounded with a deceptive halo; and Plotinus maintained that a proper worship of the gods consisted in a mysterious self annihilation and a total extinction of every faculty. The same may be said of love, which, like all other enthusiastic passions, may be considered a temporary hallucination.

Moreover the language of fiction is not required to maintain the self-evident testimonies of facts.

As true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth.

Whereas false doctrines and fallacious opinions need all the aid of imagination's vivid colours to disguise their real form with a goodly outside. We may in general conclude that enthusiasts are at first deceived themselves to become in turn deceivers. Seldom does man display sufficient humility to admit that he has erred in his favourite doctrines, and how much less will he be disposed to confess his deviation from rectitude, when imposture becomes the source of wealth and power, and hypocrisy a trade: to the ghostly speculator we may well apply the lines of Massinger:

Oh, now your hearts make ladders of your eyes, In show to climb to heaven, where your devotion Walks upon crutches.

It is, however, fortunate that errors generally assist the development of truth. The progress of the Christian faith was materially forwarded by the absurdities and fallacies of all other religions; and Helvetius has truly observed that if we could for a moment doubt the truth of Christianity, its divine origin would be proved by its having survived the horrors of popery. False theories led Columbus to correct geographic conclusions, and Galileo's discoveries overthrew his own former theories.

MEDICINAL EFFECTS OF WATER.

Amongst the various means resorted to by quackery to speculate upon the credulity of mankind, simple river or spring water, coloured and flavoured with inert substances, has not been the least productive; and many a time the Thames and Seine have been fertile sources of supposed invaluable medicines. Sangrado's doctrines on aqueous potations have long prevailed in the profession; and it has been stoutly maintained that a water diet can cure the gout and various other diseases. That relief, if not cures, have been obtained by this practice, there cannot be the least doubt. Are we to attribute these favourable results to the effects of the imagination, the beneficial efforts of nature, or the salutary abstinence which this prescription imposed? Possibly they all combined to assist the physician's efforts, or rather aid his effete treatment. Cold water and warm water have in turn been praised to the very skies by their eulogists, and become the subject of ridicule and persecution on the part of more spirited practitioners.

In surgery, water has ever been considered of great utility; it, no doubt, was instinctively used by man to cleanse and heal his wounds. Patroclus, having extracted the dart from his friend Eurypylus, washes the wound; and the prophet Elisha prescribes to Naaman the waters of Jordan. Rivers had various qualities, and were supposed to prove as different in their action on the economy as the mineral springs which from time immemorial, have been resorted to. These effects may in fact not be altogether doubtful; for, although these salutary streams may not possess sufficient active ingredients to be recognised by chemical tests, yet we know that substances which appear perfectly inert may prove highly active and effectual when combined and diluted naturally or artificially. Moreover, in the effects of watering-places on the invalid or valetudinarian, we must not forget the powerful influence of change of air and habit, the invigorating stimulus of hope, and the diversion from former occupations. To these auxiliaries many a remedy has owed its high reputation; and probably when Wesley attributed his recovery to brimstone and supplication, he in a great measure might have considered rest from incessant labour the chief agent in his relief. The exhilarating effects of the picturesque site of many of these salutary places of resort is universally acknowledged. Montaigne, Voltaire, Alfieri, acknowledged their influence on the imagination. Petrarch's inspirations flowed with the waters of Vaucluse, some of Sevigne's most delightful letters were written at Vichy, and Genlis and Stael were particularly happy in their epistolary elegance at Spa and Baden.

We owe to accident many valuable discoveries in medicine. It is said that several Indians, having used the waters of a lake in which a cinchona tree was growing, experienced the benefit which led to the use of the Peruvian bark; and the thermal properties of the baths of Carlsbad were first made known by the howling of one of Charles the Fourth's hounds, that had fallen in them in a hunt. It has been also observed, in various countries, that particular waters produced various morbid affections; and to this cause have been attributed goitres, cretinism, calculi, and other distressing diseases. The ancients dreaded the impurity of their rivers. The Romans boiled their water in extensive thermopolia, where not only potations were drunk hot, but occasionally refrigerated with ice and snow, and, when thus prepared, called decocta. Juvenal and Martial refer this custom to the Greeks. Herodotus informs us that the Persian monarchs were accompanied on their expeditions by chariots laden with silver vases filled with the water of the Choaspes that had been boiled, and which was solely destined for the king's use: Athenaeus tells us that it was light and sweet. Many ancient coins and inscriptions have recorded these salutary properties of certain waters.

This real or supposed efficacy was scarcely discovered before it became the domain of priests: and common rain or river water became valuable and sanctified when blessed by them: hence the introduction of lustral water. The fluid extracted from the gown of Mahomet is the sacred property of the sultan. The moment the fast of the Ramazan is proclaimed, this holy vestment is drawn from a gold chest, and, after having been kissed with due devotion, plunged in a vase of happy water, which, when wrung from the garment, is carefully preserved in precious bottles, that are sent by the monarch as valuable presents, or sold at exorbitant prices as cures for any and every disease. Thus were the good effects of ablution, especially in wounds, attributed to some secret charm or quality conferred upon it by clerical benediction or the legitimacy of princes. When a quack of the name of Doublet cured the wounded at the siege of Metz in 1553, the water he used was considered to have been of a mystic nature; and Brantome describes his treatment in the following words: "Durant le susdit et tant memorable siege, etait en la place un chirurgien nomme Doublet, lequel faisait d'estranges cures avec du simple linge blanc, et belle eau claire venant de la fontaine ou du puit; mais il s'aidait de sortileges et paroles charmees, et chacun allait a luy." This Doublet, no doubt, was acquainted with an ingenious treatise on gun-shot wounds, written by Blondi in 1542, in which he strongly recommended the use of cold water; but, as his recommendation was not founded on any miraculous quality, he was forgotten, while Doublet was considered a supernatural being. Previous to this simple and sagacious method of healing wounds, various curious applications were in high repute; more especially the oil of kittens, which the celebrated Pare discovered to his great delight, was prepared by boiling live cats, coat and all, in olive oil, and was until then a valuable secret preparation, called oleum catellorum, and its use, with that of other nostrums, was known under the name of secret dressing.[20]

This simple mode of dressing wounds, especially those that were inflicted by fire-arms, was a great desideratum; for, up to this era in surgery, these injuries were healed by the application of scalding oil or red-hot instruments, under the impression that they were of a poisonous nature. Pare was one of the first army-surgeons who exploded this barbarous practice. Having, according to his own account, expended all his boiling oil, he employed a mixture of yolk of egg, oil, and turpentine, not without the apprehension of finding his patients labouring under all the effects of poison the following day; when, to his great surprise, he found them much more relieved than those to whom the actual cautery had been applied. In more recent times, armies have been unjustly accused of making use of poisonous balls; and this absurd charge was brought against the French after the battle of Fontenoy, when the hospital fever broke out among the wounded crowded in the neighbouring villages. Chewing bullets was also considered a means of imparting to them a venomous quality. Lead and iron, the metals of which these projectiles were usually cast, were also deemed of a poisonous nature. A sort of aristocratic feeling seemed to obtain in those days; and it is related that two Spanish gentlemen had procured gold balls to fire at Francis I. at the battle of Pavia, that so noble and generous a prince should not fall by the vile metal reserved for vulgar people; and, in the adverse ranks, La Chatarguene, a noble of the French court, had prepared bullets of the same costly material for the reception of Charles V. It was under the impression of this poisonous nature of wounds, that individuals of both sexes, called suckers, followed armies, and endeavoured to extract the venom by suction; the records of chivalry give us instances of lovely damsels who condescended to perform this operation with their lovely mouths upon their damoiseaux; and Sibille submitted the wounds of her husband, Duke Robert, to a similar treatment: indeed, these suckers were chiefly females. May not this practice be the origin of the term leech, applied in ancient times to medical men? Leechcraft was the art of healing. Thus Spenser:

And then the learned leech His cunning hand 'gan to his wounds to lay, And all things else the which his art did teach.

To this day, the custom of sucking wounds prevails among soldiers; and there is every reason to hope, from the experiments of the late Sir David Barry, that the exhaustion produced by cupping-glasses will be found of essential service in all venomous wounds. This practice of suction, no doubt, was known in Greece; Machaon performed it at the siege of Troy. The mothers and wives of the ancient Germans had recourse to the same process. In India the suction of wounds constitutes a profession. It was by this means that the Psylli cured the bite of serpents; and it is related of Cato, that his abhorrence of the Greek surgeons was such, that he directed Psylli to follow the Roman armies.

Water affords a beautiful illustration of that indestructibility with which the Creator invested matter for the preservation of the world he formed from elementary masses, and appears to have existed unchangeable from the commencement of the universe. Its constituent parts are not broken into by any atmospheric revolution; they continue the same, whether in the solid ice, the fluid state of a liquid, or the gaseous form of a vapour. Its powers are undiminished, whether in the wave or the steam; the most effective agent in the hands of man to promote that welfare and happiness which his own errors deprive him of, frequently bringing on those calamities that his perversity attributes to the will of the Omnipotent. Water is the same in the atmosphere as on the earth, and falls in the very same nature as it ascends; electricity has no other influence upon it than that of hastening its precipitation. Chemical agents, however powerful, can only decompose its elementary principles upon the most limited scale. The heterogeneous substances with which water may occasionally be alloyed must be considered as purely accidental.

The homogeneous characters of this fluid admit of no alteration, and, like atmospheric air, are still obtained as pure most probably as when they first emerged from chaotic matter. The same principles are found in the clouds, the fogs, the dews, the rain, the hail, and the snow. For the preservation of the world it was indispensable that water should be endowed with the property of ever retaining its fluid form, and in this respect become subject to a law different from that of other bodies, which change from fluid to solid. This is a deviation from a general decree of Nature. Were it not for this wise provision of the Creator, the world would shortly have been converted into a frozen chaos. All bodies contract their dimensions, and acquire a greater specific gravity by cooling; but water is excepted from this law, and becomes of less specific gravity, whether it be heated, or cooled below 42 deg. 5'. Were it not for this exemption, it would have become specifically heavier by the loss of its caloric, and the waters that float on the surface of rivers would have sunk as it froze, until the beds of rivers would have been filled up with immense masses of ice. From the observations of Perron, there is reason to believe that the mountainous accumulations of ice that have hitherto arrested the progress of polar navigators have been detached from the depths of the ocean to float upon its surface. This circumstance would account for the difference of temperature of the sea according to its depth. The experiments of Perron, made with an instrument of his own invention, which he called the thermobarometer, gave the following results:

1st, The temperature of the sea upon its surface, and at a distance from shore, is at the meridian, lower than that of the atmosphere in the shade; much more elevated at midnight, but in a state of equilibrium morning and evening.

2nd, The temperature rises as we approach continents or extensive islands.

3rd, At a distance from land, the temperature of the deep parts of the sea is lower than that of the surface, and the cold increases with the depth. It is this circumstance which led this ingenious philosopher to conclude that even under the equator the bottom of the sea is eternally frozen.

Humboldt is of a contrary opinion, and maintains that the temperature is from two to three degrees lower in shallow water; and he therefore is of opinion that the thermometer might prove of material use to navigators. He attributes this diminution of temperature to the admixture of the lower bodies of water with that of the surface. Who is to decide between these two ingenious experimentalists? "Experientia fallax, judicium difficile." The curious reader may consult in this investigation the tables of Forster in Cook's second voyage, those of Lord Mulgrave when Captain Phipps, and various other navigators.

The salutary medicinal effects of sea-bathing are generally acknowledged, although too frequently recommended in cases which do not warrant the practice; in such circumstances they often prove highly prejudicial. The ancients held sea-water baths in such estimation, that Lampridius and Suetonius inform us that Nero had it conveyed to his palace. As sea-bathing is not always within the reach of those who may require it, artificial sea-water has been considered a desirable substitute; and the following mode of preparing it, not being generally known, may prove of some utility. To fifty pounds of water add ten ounces of muriate of soda, ten drachms of muriate of magnesia, two ounces of muriate of lime, six drachms of sulphate of soda, and the same quantity of sulphate of magnesia. This is Swediaur's receipt. Bouillon Lagrange, and Vogel, recommend the suppression of the muriate of lime and sulphate of soda, to be replaced with carbonate of lime and magnesia; but this alteration does not appear necessary, or founded on sufficient chemical grounds for adoption.

Sea-water taken internally has been considered beneficial in several maladies; and, although not potable in civilized countries, it is freely drunk by various savage tribes. Cook informs us that it is used with impunity in Easter Island; and Schouten observed several fishermen in the South Sea drinking it, and giving it to their children, when their stock of fresh water was expended. Amongst the various and capricious experiments of Peter the Great, an edict is recorded ordering his sailors to give salt water to their male children, with a view of accustoming them to a beverage which might preclude the necessity of laying in large stocks of fresh water on board his ships! The result was obvious: this nursery of seamen perished in the experiment. Russel, Lind, Buchan, and various other medical writers, have recommended the internal use of sea-water in scrofulous and cutaneous affections; but its use in the present day is pretty nearly exploded.

PROVERBS AND SAYINGS REGARDING HEALTH AND DISEASE.

An ague in the spring is physic for a king.

Agues come on horseback, but go away on foot.

A bit in the morning is better than nothing all day.

You eat and eat, but you do not drink to fill you.

An apple, an egg, and a nut, you may eat after a slut.

Poma, ova, atque nuces, si det tibi sordida, gustes.

Old young and old long.

They who would be young when they are old, must be old when they are young.

When the fern is as high as a spoon, You may sleep an hour at noon. When the fern is as high as a ladle, You may sleep as long as you are able. When fern begins to look red, Then milk is good with brown bread.

At forty a man is either a fool or a physician.

After dinner sit a while, after supper walk a mile.

After dinner sleep a while, after supper go to bed.

A good surgeon must have an eagle's eye, a lion's heart, and a lady's hand.

Good kale is half a meal.

If you would live for ever you must wash milk from your liver.

Vin sur lait, c'est souhait; lait sur vin, c'est venin.

Butter is gold in the morning, silver at noon, and lead at night.

He that would live for aye, must eat sage in May.

Cur moriatur homo, cui salvia crescit in horto?

After cheese comes nothing.

An egg and to bed.

You must drink as much after an egg as after an ox.

He that goes to bed thirsty rises healthy.

Qui couche avec la soif, se leve avec la sante.

One hour's sleep before midnight is worth two hours after.

Who goes to bed supperless, all night tumbles and tosses.

Often and little eating makes a man fat.

Fish must swim thrice.

Poisson, goret, et cochon vit en l'eau, mort en vin.

Drink wine and have the gout, drink no wine and have it too.

Young men's knocks, old men feel.

Quae peccamus Juvenes, ea luimus Senes.

Go to bed with the lamb, and rise with the lark.

Early to bed, and early to rise, Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Wash your hands often, your feet seldom, and your head never.

Eat at pleasure, drink by measure.

Pain tant qu'il dure, vin a mesure.

Cheese is a peevish elf, It digests all but itself.

_Caseus est nequam, Quia digerit omnia se quam._

The best physicians are Dr. Diet, Dr. Quiet, and Dr. Merryman.

_Si tibi deficiant medici, medici tibi fiant Haec tria; mens laeta, requies, moderata diaeta._

Drink in the morning staring, Then all the day be sparing.

Eat a bit before you drink.

Feed sparingly and dupe the physician.

Better be meals many than one too many.

You should never touch your eye but with your elbow.

Non patitur ludum fama, fides, oculus.

The head and feet keep warm, the rest will take no harm.

Tenez chaud le pied et la tete, au demurant vives en bete.

Qui ne boit vin apres salade, est en danger d'etre malade.

Cover your head by day as much as you will, by night as much as you can.

Fish spoils water, but flesh mends it.

Apples, pears, and nuts spoil the voice.

Quartan agues kill old men and cure young.

Old fish, old oil, and an old friend.

Pesce, oglio, ed amico vecchio.

Raw pullet, veal, and fish, make the churchyard fat.

Of wine the middle, of oil the top, of honey the bottom.

Vino di mezzo, oglio di sopra, e miele di sotto.

The air of a window is the stroke of a cross-bow.

Aria di finestra, colpo di balestra.

Piscia chiaro, ed incaca al medico.

When the wind is in the east, it's neither good for man nor beast.

A hot May makes a fat churchyard.

That city is in a bad case, whose physicians have the gout.--Hebrew Proverb.

When the sun rises, the disease will abate.[21]

If you take away the salt, throw the meat to the dogs.

Splen ridere facit, cogit amare jecur.[22]

Lever a cinq, diner a neuf. Souper a cinq, coucher a neuf. Font vivre dans nonante neuf.

Surge quinta, prande nona, coena quinta, dormi nona, nec est morti vita prona.

Hunger's the best sauce.

Optimum condimentum fames.

Plures occidit gula quam gladius.

Qui a bu, boira. Ever drunk ever dry.

Vinum potens, vinum nocens.

The child is too clever to live long.

Praecocibus mors ingeniis est invida semper.

Le chant du cocq, le coucher du corbeau, Preservent l'homme du tombeau.

Bitter to the mouth, sweet to the heart.

Paulo deterior, sed suavior potus est cibus; meliori quidem, sed ingrato, praeferendus est.

Apres la soupe, un coup d'excellent vin Tire un ecu de la poche du medecin.

THE NIGHT-MARE.

The Night-mare or Ephialtes, incubus, from [Greek: ephallomai], "to leap upon," and incubo, "to lie upon," may be considered a sympathetic affection of the brain during our sleep, generally arising from a derangement in the digestive functions. We therefore observe it after a heavy supper, or the use of any article of food of difficult digestion. It is to these circumstances more than to the "unusual loss of volition," which some physiologists consider as its cause, that we are to attribute this unpleasant perturbation of our repose, which impresses the sleeper with the idea of some living being pressing upon the chest, inspiring terror, impeding respiration, and subduing all voluntary action that might endeavour to remove the unwelcome visiter. It has been observed that persons of a melancholy and contemplative disposition are more subject to it than the gay and the vivacious. Sedentary employment and anxiety of mind often bring it on; and it has been noticed in nostalgia, or regret of home, in soldiers and sailors. The sense of apprehension remains after the sufferer is awakened, and the fluttering of the heart and quick pulse are observed for some time after, while drops of cold perspiration frequently trickle down his brow. When the night-mare is the result of too much repletion, it is possible that its symptoms denote a pressure of the loaded stomach on the solar plexus.

It is said that the night-mare derives its name from Mara, an evil spirit of the Scandinavians, which, according to the Runic theology, seized men in their sleep, and deprived them of the powers of volition. Our old Anglo-Saxon name for the disease was Elf-Sidenne, or elf-squatting; hence the popular term "hag-ridden."

There is a variety of the malady which makes its attack by day, and when waking: it has been called the day-mare, or ephialtes vigilantium. This affection, although uncommon, has been noticed by Forestus, Rhodius, Sauvages, and Good. Forestus has known it to return periodically like an intermittent fever.

It is not always that the patient experiences unpleasant sensations in these nocturnal attacks, which were not unfrequently of a curious nature. The ancients thought that these intruders were sometimes sportive Fauns; hence Pliny calls the affection ludibria Fauni. At a subsequent period, superstition replaced the Fauns by Incubi, or evil spirits, who visited the earth to destroy virtuous women; and it was once gravely discussed by the Sorbonne, whether the offspring of such an union should be considered human, or the fair lady's reputation injured by the involuntary act of giving a young incubus to the world. The absurd stories of the pranks of the Succubi and Incubi are well known.

Ephialtes has been known to be epidemic, and has attacked numbers at a time. Caelius Aurelianus informs us that Silimachus, a disciple of Hippocrates, observed the phenomenon in Rome, when the disease generally proved fatal. It is more than probable that in these cases the night-mare was merely symptomatic of other complaints. A French physician, Dr. Laurent, however, has related a very curious instance of a species of night-mare attacking an entire regiment; he thus relates the singular occurrence:

"The first battalion of the regiment Latour d'Auvergne, of which I was the surgeon, was garrisoned at Palmi, in Calabria, when we received a sudden order at midnight to march with all possible speed to Tropea; a flotilla of the enemy having appeared off the coast. It was in the month of June; we had a march of forty miles of the country, and only arrived at our destination at seven o'clock the following evening, having scarcely halted during those thirty-one hours, and suffered considerably from the heat of the sun. On our arrival the men found their rations cooked and their quarters prepared; but, having arrived the last, our regiment had the worst accommodation, and eight hundred men were pent up in a building scarcely capacious enough for half the number. The soldiers were in consequence much crowded, and slept upon the straw without any bedding, and most uncomfortably. The building was an abandoned monastery; and the inhabitants warned us that we should not be able to occupy it quietly, as it was haunted every night. We laughed at their superstitious fears, but were much amazed when, towards midnight, we heard loud cries, and the soldiers rushed tumultuously, and in evident terror, out of their rooms. Being interrogated as to the causes of this alarm, they all affirmed that the devil was in the abbey; that they had seen him enter in the shape of a large black dog, that had jumped upon their breasts and disappeared. To convince them of the absurdity of their fears was of no avail; not a single man could be persuaded to return to his quarters, and they wandered about the town until daybreak. On the following morning I questioned the most steady non-commissioned officers and the oldest soldiers; and though under ordinary circumstances they were strangers to fear, and never gave credit to any tales of supernatural agency, they assured me that the dog had weighed them down and nearly suffocated them. We remained that day in Tropea, and had no other quarters to occupy but the same monastery, and the soldiers would only take up their residence on the condition that we should remain with them: the men retired to sleep--we watched; all was quiet until about one in the morning; when they awoke in the same terror, and fled from the building in dismay. We had looked out most attentively, but could not perceive the cause of this commotion. The following day we returned to Palmi; and, although we marched over a great part of Italy, and were frequently equally crowded and uncomfortable, a similar scene never recurred."

Dr. Laurent very judiciously attributes this singular attack to the pernicious local influence of some deleterious gas, and the very crowded state the men slept in. It is also probable that they did not take off their accoutrements, and lay down with their belts on: might they not also have eaten some unwholesome fruit upon the line of march, for it was in the month of June, when various berries grow in abundance along the road-side?

Hippocrates's theory of the night-mare was, that, during our sleep, our volition being suspended, the soul, still awake, watches over all the functions of the body. It is rather odd that the animal that most persons pretend to have thus annoyed them, is a long-haired black dog. Forestus assures us that it was a similar visiter that tormented him in his youth. This circumstance can only be attributed to vulgar superstition and tradition. Dubosquet has preceded his Treatise on Ephialtes with the engraving of a large monkey who had perplexed a young lady whom he attended; the monkey most probably came on horseback, as his steed is also delineated looking over the sleeping victim.

Various medicines have been recommended to prevent these attacks; amongst others, saffron and peony: and several learned commentators have endeavoured to prove and disprove that they were only specific in the form of an amulet. Zacutus Lusitanus recommends aloes, and his advice is perhaps as good a one as could be given. The ancients attributed many powerful effects to saffron, and, amongst other properties, it was considered as an effective narcotic, and was said to occasion violent headaches. Curious anecdotes are related of its effects. Amatus Lusitanus having exhibited this medicine to accelerate a tardy accouchement, the woman was delivered of two yellow daughters; and Hertodt, in his work called Crocology, relates that, having tried it on a bitch, all her pups were of a similar colour. The ancients called saffron the king of plants, the vegetable panacea, and the soul of the lungs. In modern times we do not recognise any peculiar property in this production; and in Spain and Italy it is used as a condiment with perfect impunity. Peony was also deemed a valuable remedy, when gathered as the decreasing moon was passing under Aries: the slit root being then tied round the neck of an epileptic person, he was forthwith cured. "Unlimited scepticism," Dugald Stewart observes, "is as much the child of imbecility as implicit credulity." How difficult it is to steer the vessel of our understanding between those shoals!

Medical writers have divided the night-mare, according to its phenomena, into complete, incomplete, mental, and bodily. The complete night-mare, in which the suspension of the functions had been so powerful, has been known to prove fatal. In the incomplete, we fancy ourselves placed in a peculiar situation, opposed by some unexpected obstacle, and all our efforts seem of no avail to extricate ourselves from our difficulties. There is an incubus, called indirect, in which the dreamer is not the individual arrested in his movements; but he is impeded in his progress by the stoppage of his horse, his carriage, his ship, which no power can propel. In the mental or intellectual night-mare, the flow of our ideas is embarrassed, all the associations of our very thoughts appear to be singularly unconnected; we think in an unintelligible language; we write, and cannot decipher our manuscript: all is a mental chaos, and no thread can lead us out of the perplexing labyrinth. In the corporeal ephialtes, we imagine that some of our organs are displaced, or deranged in their functions. One man fancies that a malevolent spectre is drawing out his intestines or his teeth: a patient of Galen felt the cold sensation of a marble statue having been put into bed with him. These, however, are nothing else than the actual sensations we experience at the time. Thus Conrad Gesner fancied that a serpent had stung him in the left side of the breast; an anthrax soon appeared upon the very spot, and terminated his existence. Arnauld de Villeneuve imagined that his foot had been bitten, and a pimple which broke out on the spot soon degenerated into a fatal cancerous affection. Corporeal night-mare may therefore be simply considered as a symptom of disease, and not as a mysterious forewarning.

The cold stage of fever that often invades us in our sleep is the natural forerunner of the malady. This was the case with Dr. Corona, the physician of Pius VI. who upon two occasions was attacked with typhus fever, ushered in by a distressing dream or incubus. These physical phenomena only strengthen the opinion, that in our sleep we are equally alive to mental impressions and bodily sufferings; and that, correctly speaking, there is no suspension of our intellectual faculties of perception, nor is there any interruption in the susceptibilities of our relative existence. The various doctrines regarding dreams illustrate this position.

INCUBATION OF DISEASES.

The term "incubation" in its rigid sense applies to the act of hatching eggs, either naturally or artificially. It has however been adopted by physicians to denote that state of predisposition to disease, in which the germ of the malady lurks, latent and unperceived by the inexperienced observer. Too frequently the individual who is thus menaced is totally unaware of his condition. So far from being depressed in spirits, his hopes are more sanguine, and his future projects more industriously formed than usual. At other times, on the contrary, he labours under a load of despondency which he cannot explain, and his gloom seems to anticipate his end. This presentiment has oftentimes been singularly prophetic. Moreau de St. Remy relates the case of one of his most intimate friends, who visited him, saying, "I come to die near you." He was apparently in perfect health, but the prediction too soon proved true.

It is no doubt probable, that in these cases the influence of the mind labouring under these fatal impressions brings about, by its all-powerful sympathetic power on our functions, the expected yet dreaded event.

Incubation is observed in many contagious affections; and in hydrophobia its duration is amazing, this dreadful malady developing itself years after the original accident. In mental diseases, aberrations of the intellectual faculties are noticed long before the patient can be pronounced insane; oddities, as they are called, are frequently the precursors of mania.

The ancient Greeks and Egyptians use the term "incubation" in another sense. With them it expressed the religious ceremony of sleeping in the temples of the gods, to be inspired with the means of relieving their sufferings. Nothing can express this superstitious rite more forcibly than the following letter from Aspasia to Pericles, recorded by one of the scholiasts of Aelian.

"Aspasia to Pericles, greeting. Podalirius! Podalirius, to whom Love taught the art of healing, and who in return didst consecrate thine art to Love, I return thee my thanks. Athens will once more see me beauteous! I shall have lost none of my attractions, and Pericles shall find in his Aspasia all that he once held dear! Podalirius, I return thee my thanks; and thou, Pericles, be grateful to my benefactor. I did not wish to write to thee until I was certain that I had been cured. I shall relate to thee my voyage. I punctually followed the instructions of Nocrates, that wise and enlightened physician. I first repaired to Memphis, where I visited, but without success, the temple of Isis. I there beheld the goddess, and her son Orus, seated on a throne, supported by two lions. The Sebestus[23] grew round her shrine! Incense was burnt in the morning, myrrha during the day, and cyplis at eve. I was assured that young Alexander had come to this temple not long before to indulge in a holy contemplation, and learn by inspiration the means of curing his friend Ptolemy: his supplications were heeded. I also slept in the temple, but found no relief. This misfortune, alas! was attributed to my incredulity. I took my departure, and repaired to Patras. There I saw in her temple the divine Hygeia; not as she was represented by Aristophanes, when she relieved Plutus, sweet and graceful, clothed in an aerial robe and a short tunic, and holding in her hand a cup of Musa, whence a serpent was seen to spring, but she appeared to me in the form of a mysterious pentagon. I first paid a devout visit to the fountain; and while I deposited my offerings at the feet of the goddess, a mirror was floating on the surface of the waters upon which I gazed by order of the priests, but I was not cured! Thence I went to sleep at Pergania and at Hercyna. But the gods seemed to slumber when Aspasia slept! On a sudden the name of Podalirius struck mine ear! I was informed that his temple was at Lacera. I instantly sought it; and, on my arrival, bathed in the Althonus. After the bath, I was anointed with the perfumed balsams that our friend Sosinius had given me in the temple of Mercury the day I left Athens. I then put up my prayers to deserve the favour I implored from the god. At nightfall I sought repose on the skin of a ram close to the statuary pillar. I soon found myself in that state when we are no longer wide awake, but when sleep has not yet lulled our senses to repose. Methought that a celestial light was shed around me. Aesculapius appeared to me with his two daughters; and, from the clouds that surrounded him, he promised me my pristine health. I soon after fell into a profound sleep; but towards the break of day I beheld Cypris--Cypris who was always the friend of Podalirius: she came herself! I recognised her, although she had assumed the form of a gentle dove. Yes, Cypris came to cure me. Podalirius! Aesculapius! Cypris! each day shall you be thanked by Aspasia and by Pericles.

"I must now relate to thee the vision of a Daunian, who slept near me. She suffered from an affection of her breast, and this she dreamed:--She beheld the young god Harpocrates lying on leaves of lotos, and covered with bandages from the head to the feet. He appeared weak and emaciated; he cried like an infant, supplicating the poor woman to nurse him. Soon after, she dreamt that a lamb came to seek his sustenance from her bosom. The dream was fulfilled,--it clearly indicated the use of a certain plant; but, until it could be obtained, the Daunian was advised to eat nothing but stewed raisins. Learn that here various names are given to various inspirations. The last dream I have related is called allegorical. When a dream prescribes a certain remedy, it is named theorematic. Here are many dreams: wise Pericles, thou art perhaps smiling at them; but what is not visionary is my perfect recovery, and my love for thee. Farewell!"

Although this letter of Aspasia is an evident fiction, yet it gives an excellent, though a romantic description of the incubation of the ancients. Aspasia was supposed to be labouring under one of the most vexatious disorders that can affect a pretty woman,--an eruption in the face; hence the gods sent her a mirror, that her devotion might be increased by her unsightly appearance. It is not improbable that in those days, as in the present era, women of a certain, or rather an uncertain age, were more fervid in their endeavours to render themselves acceptable to Heaven when they ceased to be admired and sought for upon earth.

QUACKERY AND CHARLATANISM.

The origin of the word "quack" is not ascertained. Johnson derives it from the verb "to quack, or gabble like a goose." Butler uses this verb as descriptive of the encomiums empirics heap upon their nostrums. Thus in Hudibras:

Believe mechanic Virtuosi Can raise them mountains in Potosi, Seek out for plants with signatures To quack of universal cures.

The word charlatan is equally enveloped in obscurity. Furetiere and Calepin say that it is derived from the Italian word Ceretano, from Caeretum, a town near Spoleto, whence a band of impostors first sallied forth, marching under the banners of Hippocrates, and roving from town to town, selling drugs and giving medical advice.[24] Menage has it that charlatan springs from Circulatanus, from Circulator. Other etymologists trace it to the Italian Ciarlare, to chatter; hence Ciarlatan.

The Romans called their quacks Agyrtae, or Seplasiarii, from Seplasium, the generic name of aromatic substances. Seplasium was the place where they vended their drugs. Thus Martial:

Quodque ab Adumaeis vectum seplasia vendunt, Et quidquid confert medicis lagaea cataplus.

An empiric was also called Planus and Circulator "unde Plani unde levatores."

Some of the stratagems resorted to by needy empirics to get into practice are very ingenious, and many a regular physician has been obliged to have recourse to similar artifices to procure employment. It is related of a Parisian physician, that, on his first arrival in the capital, he was in the habit of sending his servant in a carriage about daybreak to rap at the doors of the principal mansions to inquire for his master, as he was sent for to repair instantly to such and such a prince, who was dying. The drowsy porter naturally replied, with much ill-humour, "that he knew nothing of his master."--"What! did he not pass the night in this house?" replied the footman, apparently astonished. "No," gruffly answered the Swiss; "there's nobody ill here."--"Then I must have mistaken the house. Is not this the hotel of the Duke of ----?"--"No. Go to the devil!" exclaimed the porter, closing the ponderous gates. From this house his valet then proceeded from street to street, alarming the whole neighbourhood with his loud rap. Of course nothing else was spoken of in the porter's lodge, the grocer's shop, and the servants' hall for nine days.

Another quack, upon his arrival in a town, announced himself by sending the bellman round, offering fifty guineas reward for a poodle belonging to Doctor ----, Physician to his Majesty and the Royal Family, Professor of Medicine, and Surgeon General, who had put up at such and such an inn. Of course the physician of a king, who could give fifty guineas for a lost dog, must be a man of pre-eminence in his profession.

Another indigent physician having complained of his ill-fortune to an ingenious friend, received the following advice: The Cafe de la Regence is now in fashion: I play at chess every day at two o'clock, when a considerable crowd is assembled. Come there at the same hour; do not pretend to know me; call for a cup of coffee, and always pay the waiter his money in a rose-coloured paper: leave the rest to me. The doctor followed his advice; and his eccentric manners were soon observed,--when his friend informed the persons around him, that he was one of the ablest practitioners in the land; that he had known him for upwards of fifteen years, and that his cures were most marvellous,--his extreme modesty alone having prevented him from giving publicity to his abilities. He further added, I have long wished to become intimate with so great a man; but he is so absorbed in the study of his profession, that he scarcely ever enters into conversation with any one. In a short time, the Rose-colour Doctor was in extensive business.

Many years ago, the jaw-breaking words Tetrachymagogon and Fellino Guffino Cardimo Cardimac Frames, were chalked all over London, as two miracle-working doctors. Men with such names must have some superior qualification, and numbers flocked to consult them. Another quack put up as an advertisement, that he had just arrived in town, after having made the wonderful discovery of the green and red dragon and the female fern-seed. This was sure to attract notice. An advertisement was handed about of a learned physician, "who had studied thirty years by candle-light for the good of his countrymen." He was, moreover, the seventh son of a seventh son, and was possessed of a wonderful cure for hernia, as both his father and his grandfather had been ruptured. This reminds one of the oculist in Mouse Alley, mentioned in the Spectator, who undertook to cure cataracts, in consequence of his having lost an eye in the Imperial service. Dr. Case made a fortune by having the lines, Within this place, lives Doctor Case, written in large characters upon his door.

The accidental circumstances which frequently bring medical men into extensive practice, or that notoriety which may lead to it, are truly curious. It is well known that a most eminent English physician owed all his success to his having been on a particular occasion in a state of intoxication. Disappointed on his first arrival in London, he sought comfort in a neighbouring tavern, where the servant of the house at which he lodged went to fetch him one evening, after a heavy potation, to see a certain countess. The high-sounding title of this unexpected patient tended not a little to increase the excitement under which he laboured. He followed a livery footman as steadily as he could, and was ushered in silence into a noble mansion, where her ladyship's woman anxiously waited to conduct him most discreetly to her mistress's room; her agitation most probably preventing her from perceiving the doctor's state. He was introduced into a splendid bedchamber, and staggered towards the bed in which the lady lay. He went through the routine practice of pulse-feeling, &c., and proceeded to the table to write a prescription, which, in all probability, would have been mechanically correct. But here his powers failed him. In vain he strove to trace the salutary characters, until, wearied in his attempts, he cast down the pen, and, exclaiming "Drunk, by G--!" he made his best way out of the house. Two days afterwards he was not a little surprised by receiving a letter from the lady, enclosing a check for 100_l._, and promising him the patronage of her family and friends, if he would observe the strictest secrecy on the state he found her in. The fact simply was, that the countess had been indulging in brandy and laudanum, which her abigail had procured for her, and was herself in the very condition which the doctor had frankly applied to himself.

Chance, more than science or ability, has frequently brought professional men to the summit of their business. There is an Eastern story of a certain prince who had received from a fairy the faculty of not only assuming whatever appearance he thought proper, but of discerning the wandering spirits of the departed. He had long laboured under a painful chronic disease, that none of the court physicians, ordinary or extraordinary, could relieve; and he resolved to wander about the streets of his capital until he could find some one, regular or irregular, who could alleviate his sufferings. For this purpose he donned the garb and appearance of a dervish. As he was passing through one of the principal streets, he was surprised to see it so thronged with ghosts, that, had they been still inhabitants of their former earthly tenements, they must have obstructed the thoroughfare. But what was his amazement and dismay when he saw that they were all grouped with anxious looks round the door of his royal father's physician, haunting, no doubt, the man to whom they attributed their untimely doom. Shocked with the sight, he hurried to another part of the city, where resided another physician of the court, holding the second rank in fashionable estimation. Alas! his gateway was also surrounded with reproachful departed patients. Thunderstruck at such a discovery, and returning thanks to the prophet that he was still in being, despite the practice of these great men, he resolved to submit all the other renowned practitioners to a similar visit, and he was grieved to find that the scale of ghosts kept pace with the scale of their medical rank. Heartbroken, and despairing of a cure, he was slowly sauntering back to the palace, when, in an obscure street, and on the door of an humble dwelling, he read a doctor's name. One single poor solitary ghost, leaning his despondent cheek upon his fleshless hand, was seated on the doctor's steps. "Alas!" exclaimed the prince, "it is, then, too true that humble merit withers in the shade, while ostentatious ignorance inhabits golden mansions. This poor neglected doctor, who has but one unlucky case to lament, is then the only man in whom I can place confidence." He rapped; the door was opened by the doctor himself, a venerable old man, not rich enough, perhaps, to keep a domestic to answer his infrequent calls. His white locks and flowing beard added to the confidence which his situation had inspired. The elated youth then related at full length all his complicated ailments, and the still more complicated treatment to which he had in vain been submitted. The sapient physician was not illiberal enough to say that the prince's attendants had all been in error, since all mankind may err; but his sarcastic smile, the curl of his lips, and the dubious shake of his hoary head, most eloquently told the anxious patient that he considered his former physicians as an ignorant, murderous set of upstarts, only fit to depopulate a community. With a triumphant look he promised a cure, and gave his overjoyed client a much-valued prescription, which he carefully confided to his bosom; after which he expressed his gratitude by pouring upon the doctor's table a purse of golden sequins, which made the old man's blinking eyes shine as brightly as the coin he beheld in wondrous delight. His joy gave suppleness to his rigid spine, and, after bowing the prince out in the most obsequious manner, he ventured to ask him one humble question: "By what good luck, by what kind planet, had he been recommended to seek his advice?" The prince naturally asked for the reason of so strange a question: to which the worthy doctor replied, with eyes brimful with tears of gratitude, "Oh, sir, because I considered myself the most unfortunate man in Bagdad until this happy moment; for I have been settled in this noble and wealthy city for these last fifteen years, and have only been able to obtain one single patient."--"Ah!" cried the prince in despair, "then it must be that poor, solitary, unhappy-looking ghost that is now sitting on your steps!"

It has been observed that religious sects have materially contributed to the elevation of physicians in society, and political associations have been equally beneficial. The celebrated Mead was the son of a non-conforming minister, who, knowing the influence he possessed over his numerous congregation, brought him up as a physician, in the full confidence of obtaining the splendid result that rewarded the speculation. His example was followed by several dissenting preachers; among whom we may name Oldfield, Clarke, Nesbitt, Lobb, Munckly, whose sons all rose to extensive and most lucrative practice. At that period, St. Thomas's and Guy's Hospitals were under the government of Dissenters and Whigs; and so soon as any one became a physician to the establishment, his fortune was made. The same advantages attended St. Bartholomew's and Bethlem, both of royal foundation.

Dr. Meyer Schomberg, who was a poor Jew of Cologne, came to London without any profession, when, not knowing what to do to obtain a living, to use his own words, he said, "I am a physician;" and, having thus conferred a degree upon himself, he sedulously cultivated the acquaintance of all his fellow Jews about Duke's-place, got introduced to some of their leading and wealthy mercantile brethren, and a few years after Dr. Schomberg was in the annual receipt of four thousand pounds. It is rather strange, but the Jew was succeeded in his lucrative practice by a Quaker. This was the celebrated Dr. Fothergill. Brought up an apothecary, he took out a Scotch degree, and, attaching himself to Schomberg, calculated on following his example; and, on his patron's decease, he slipped into the practice of both Jew and Gentile.

Amongst many singular instances of good fortune may be mentioned a surgeon of the name of Broughton, to whom our East India Company may consider themselves as most indebted, since he was the person who first pointed out the advantages that might result from trading in Bengal. Broughton happened to travel from Surat to Agra in the year 1636, when he had the luck to cure one of the daughters of the Emperor Shah-Jehan. To reward him, this prince allowed him a free trade throughout his dominions. Broughton immediately repaired to Bengal to purchase goods, which he sent round by sea to Surat. Scarcely had he returned, when he was requested to attend the favourite of a powerful nabob, and he fortunately restored her to health, when, in addition to a pension, his commercial privileges were still more widely extended; the prince promising him at the same time a favourable reception for British traders. Broughton lost no time in communicating this intelligence to the Governor of Surat; and it was by his advice that the company sent out two large ships to Bengal in 1640.

There are some amusing anecdotes related regarding a vocation for the medical profession. Andrew Rudiger, a physician of Leipsic, when at college, made an anagram of his name, and, in the words Andreas Rudiger he found "Arare Rus Dei Dignus," or "worthy to cultivate the field of God." He immediately fancied that his vocation was the church, and commenced his theological studies. Showing but little disposition for the clerical calling, the learned Thomasius recommended him to return to his original pursuits. Rudiger confessed that he had more inclination for the profession of medicine than the church; but that he had considered the anagram of his name as a divine injunction. "There you are in error," replied Thomasius; "that very anagram calls you to the art of healing; for Rus Dei clearly meaneth the churchyard."

The subject of quackery, in every sphere of life, whether it be resorted to by diplomatists or physicians, sanctimonious adventurers or fashionable roues, leads to serious consideration. How comes it that man seems more anxious to be deceived than enlightened? Simply from the errors of his education, which foster a love for the marvellous, and induce him to admire that which really is not or cannot be comprehended. The superiority of the intellectual faculties of the ancients, at an earlier age than the generality of men in the present times, is solely to be attributed to their having been brought up with philosophical views. Mallebranche has justly said, "that to become a philosopher, we must see clearly; but to be endued with faith, we must believe blindly." Although we cannot admit this axiom in matters of revealed religion, yet in many worldly concerns it does hold. If a youth was not educated with the scholastic jargon, commonly called learning, he would be considered ignorant. Helvetius has said, that man is born ignorant, but not a fool; and that it is even no easy matter to make him one; and the same writer has very justly divided stupidity into that which is natural, arising from ignorance, and that which is acquired and the result of instruction. It is thus that, by speaking to the passions, naturally weak, and to our desires and apprehensions, ever ready to grasp at a favourite phantom,--the artful manage to exercise a more powerful control, and incline persons to believe what their senses actually discredit. The traffic of hope and fear has ever been a lucrative trade; and while fear became the staple commodity of priestcraft, hope was the fortune of medical quacks. The multiplication of sins increased the profits of the one; the various diseases, real and imaginary, to which flesh is heir, became the source of emolument to the other. It is under these cherished impressions of ameliorating our condition, that many men of common sense, and even of judgment, are induced to rely on the most absurd and fallacious promises; so prone are we to believe all that we wish;--the fidelity of a woman, the truth of a sycophant, and the candour of a flatterer. If there could be established a regular college of quackery, where the errors of mankind might be studied, and pupils taught to avail themselves of their follies, as a future vocation, a more perfect knowledge of the world would be acquired than in all the universities in Europe. Our sovereigns would be wise in selecting their ministers amongst the graduates of this academy. Cardinal Du Perron, who, in a long homily, convinced his sovereign, Henry III., of the existence of a God, and afterwards informed him that he would prove the contrary, if it could afford his Majesty any consolation, might have been selected as a proper rector for such an institution.

It is also to be observed that the founders of all doctrines, however hypothetical and absurd, have generally assumed a dogmatic language, which gives to their fallacious assertions an appearance of truth, and Bacon has long ago said, "Method, carrying a show of total and perfect knowledge, has a tendency to general acquiescence."

Quackery is considered by many practitioners as necessary to forward the views of medical men. It is related of Charles Patin, that being on a visit to a physician at Basle, where his son was studying medicine, he questioned the youth on the principal studies required to form a physician; to which the future candidate for medical popularity replied, "Anatomy, physiology, pathology, and therapeutics." "You have omitted the chief pursuit," replied his catechiser, "quackery."

When we cast our eyes on the absurd names which many Italian academies adopted to characterize the nature of their studies, we find an ample illustration of this science in the Seraphici, the Oscuri, the Immaturi, the Infecundi, the Offuscati, the Somnolenti, and Phantastici!

The most ridiculous and disgusting epithets have been considered honourable distinctions. Thus, when the science of Uroscopia and Uromancy prevailed, we find a Dr. Theodorus Charles, a Wirtemberg physician, calling another learned practitioner, "Urinosa Claritas."

ON THE USE OF TEA.

Such is the growing consumption of this now indispensable article in England, that in 1789 there were imported 14,534,601 lbs., and in 1833 the quantity was increased to 31,829,620 lbs.; the latter importation yielding a revenue of 3,444,101_l._ In other countries we find the consumption much less. Russia in 1832 imported 6,461,064 lbs.; Holland consumes about 2,800,000 lbs., and France only 230,000 lbs.

It is supposed that tea was first introduced into Europe by the Dutch, about the middle of the seventeenth century; and Lords Arlington and Ossory are said to be the first persons who made it known in England. In 1641, Tulpius, a Dutch physician, mentioned it in his works. In 1667, Fouquet, a French physician, recommended it to the French faculty; and in 1678, an elaborate treatise was written on it by Cornelius Boutkoe, physician to the Elector of Brandenburg. About the same time, several travellers and missionaries, amongst whom we find Koempfer, Kalm, Osbeck, Duhalde, and Lecomte, give various accounts of the plant and its divers qualities.

The Chinese name of this plant is theh, a Fokien word. In the Mandarin it is tcha, and the Japanese call it tsjaa. Loureiro, in his Flora Cochin-China, describes three species of tea. It is a polyandrous plant of the natural order Columniferae, growing to a height varying from three to six feet, and bearing a great resemblance to our myrtle. The blossom is white, with yellow style and anthers, not unlike that of the dog-rose; the leaves are the only valuable part of the plant. The camellias, particularly the camellia sesanqua, of the same natural family, are the only plants liable to be confounded with it. The leaves of the latter camellia are indeed frequently used as a substitute for those of the tea-plant in several districts of China. This shrub is a hardy evergreen, growing in the open air from the equator to the forty-fifth degree of northern latitude; but the climate that appears the most congenial to it seems to be between the twenty-fifth and thirty-third degree. Almost every province and district in China produces tea for local consumption: but what is cultivated for trade is chiefly in Fokien, Canton, Kiang-nan, Kiang-si, and Che-Kiang; Fokien being celebrated for its black tea, and Kiang-nan for the green. The plant is also cultivated in Japan, Tonquin, and Cochin-China, and in some parts of the mountainous tracts of Ava, where, in addition to its use in infusion, it is converted into a pickle preserved in oil. When tea was first introduced as a luxury on particular occasions in the wild districts of Ireland, the people used to throw away the water in which it had been boiled, and eat the leaves with salt-butter or bacon like greens. The Dutch are now endeavouring to propagate this valuable plant in Java, and for that purpose employ cultivators, who have emigrated from Fokien. The Brazilians are making similar attempts, and some tolerable tea has been reared near Rio Janeiro.

The black teas usually imported from Canton are the bohea, congou, souchong, and pekoe, according to our orthography: the French missionaries spelt them as follows: boui, camphou or campoui, saotchaon, and pekao or peko. Our green teas are the twankay, hyson-skin, and hyson, imperial, and gunpowder; the first of which French travellers write tonkay, hayswin-skine, and hayswin. The French import a tea called tehulan, but it is artificially flavoured with a leaf called lan hoa, or the olea fragrans of Linnaeus.

The tea-plant grows to perfection in two or three years: the leaves are carefully picked by the family of the growers, and immediately carried to market, where they are purchased for drying in sheds. The tea-merchants from Canton repair to the several districts where it is produced, and, after purchasing the leaves thus simply desiccated, submit them to various manipulations; after which they are packed in branded cases and parcels called chops, from a Chinese word meaning a seal. Some of the leaf-buds of the finest black tea plants are picked early in the spring, before they expand: these constitute pekoe, sometimes called "white-blossomed tea," from their being intermixed with the blossoms of the olea fragrans. The younger the leaf, the more high-flavoured and valuable is the tea. Green teas are grown and gathered in the same manner; but amongst these the gunpowder stands in the grade of the pekoe among the black, being prepared with the unopened buds of the spring crops. The alleged preparation of green teas upon copper plates, to give them a verdant colour, is an idle story. They are dried in iron vases over a gentle fire; and the operator conducts this delicate work with his naked hand, and the utmost care not to break the fragile leaves. This part of the manipulation is considered the most difficult, as the leaves are rolled into their usual shape between the palms of the hands until they are cold, to prevent them from unrolling. Teas are adulterated by various odoriferous plants, more especially the vitex pinnata, the chloranthus inconspicuus, and the illicium anisatum. In our markets the chief adulteration is operated by the mixture of sloe and ash leaves, and colouring with terra Japonica and other drugs.

That tea is a substance injurious to health is beyond a doubt. Nothing but long habit from early life renders it less baneful than it otherwise would be: persons who take its infusion for the first time invariably experience uncomfortable sensations. It is well known that individuals who are not in the practice of taking tea in the evening, never transgress this habit with impunity; and it is quite clear that a preparation which deprives them of sleep, and renders them restless during a whole night, cannot be salubrious by day; and although the following opinion of Dr. Trotter regarding the use of this leaf is somewhat exaggerated, it is founded on experience; and I have known several persons afflicted with a variety of serious affections who never could obtain relief until they had ceased to consume it.

"Tea is a beverage well suited to the taste of an indolent and voluptuous age. To the glutton it affords a grateful diluent after a voracious dinner; and, from being drunk warm, it gives a soothing stimulus to the stomach of the drunkard: but, however agreeable may be its immediate flavour, the ultimate effects are debility and nervous diseases. There may be conditions of health, indeed, where tea can do no harm, such as in the strong and athletic; but it is particularly hurtful to the female constitution, to all persons who possess the hereditary predisposition to dyspepsia, and all diseases with which it is associated, to gout, and to those who are naturally weak-nerved. Fine tea, where the narcotic quality seems to be concentrated, when taken in a strong infusion, by persons not accustomed to it, excites nausea and vomiting, tremors, cold sweats, vertigo, dimness of sight, and confusion of thought. I have known a number of men and women subject to nervous complaints, who could not use tea in any form without feeling a sudden increase of all their unpleasant symptoms; particularly acidity of the stomach, vertigo, and dimness of the eyes. As the use of this article of diet extends among the lower orders of the community and the labouring poor, it must do the more harm. A man or a woman who has to go through much toil and hardship has need of substantial nourishment; but that is not to be obtained from an infusion of tea. And if the humble returns of their industry are expended in this leaf, what remains for the purchase of food better adapted to labour? In this case tea becomes hurtful, not only from its narcotic quality, but because that quality acts with double force in a body weakened from other causes. This certainly is one great reason for the increased and increasing proportion of nervous, bilious, spasmodic, and stomach complaints, &c. appearing among the lower ranks of life."

It is well known that tea is frequently resorted to by literary men to keep them awake during their lucubrations. Dr. Cullen said he never could take it without feeling gouty symptoms; and we frequently see aged females, who are in the habit of taking strong green tea, subject to paralytic affections. Many experienced physicians, such as Grimm, Crugerus, Wytt, Murray, Letsom, condemn the abuse of the plant as highly dangerous.[25] That it is a most powerful astringent we well know; and the hands of the Chinese who are employed in its preparation are shrivelled, and, to all appearance, burned with caustic. Chemists have extracted from it an astringent liquor containing tannin and gallic acid. This liquor, injected in the veins or under the integuments of frogs, produces palsy of the posterior extremities, and, applied to the sciatic nerve for half an hour, has occasioned death.

There is no doubt that tea acts differently on various individuals. In some it is highly stimulant and exhilarating; in others its effects are oppression and lowness of spirits; and I have known a person who could never indulge in this beverage without experiencing a disposition to commit suicide, and nothing could arouse him from this state of morbid excitement but the pleasure of destroying something, books, papers, or any thing within his reach. Under no other circumstances than this influence of tea were these fearful aberrations observed. It has been remarked that all tea-drinking nations are essentially of a leucophlegmatic temperament, predisposed to scrofulous and nervous diseases. The Chinese, even the degraded Tartar races amongst them, are weak and infirm, their women subject to various diseases arising from debility. Although their confined mode of living, and want of the means of enjoying pure air and exercise, materially tends to render them liable to these affections; still their immoderate use of strong green tea, taken, it is true, in very small quantities at the time, but repeatedly, greatly adds to this predisposition.

From long experience I am convinced that, although tea may in general be considered a refreshing and harmless beverage, yet in some peculiar cases it is decidedly injurious; and many diseases that have baffled all medical exertions, have yielded to the same curative means so soon as the action of tea had been suspended.

MANDRAGORE.

Self-styled wandering Turks and Armenians are frequently met with in crowded cities vending rhubarb, tooth-powder, and various drugs and nostrums, exciting the curiosity of the idlers that group around them, by exhibiting a root bearing a strong resemblance to the human form. This is the far-famed mandragore, of which such wonderful accounts have been related by both ancients and moderns.

This plant is the Atropa Mandragora of Linnaeus, and grows wild in the mountainous and shaded parts of Italy, Spain, and the Levant, where it is also cultivated in gardens. The root bears such a likeness, at least in fancy's eyes, to our species, that it was called Semi-homo. Hence says Columella,

Quamvis semihominis vesano gramine foeta Mandragora pariat flores moestamque cicutam.

The word vesano clearly refers to the supposed power it possessed of exciting delirium. It was also named Circaea, from its having been one of the mystic ingredients employed in Circe's spells; although the wonderful mandragore was ineffectual against the more powerful herb the Moly, which Ulysses received from Mercury. This human resemblance of the root, which is, moreover, of a blackish hue and hairy, inspired the vulgar with the idea that it was nothing less than a familiar daemon. It was gathered with curious rites: three times a magic circle was drawn round it with a naked sword; and the person who was daring enough to pluck it from the earth, was subject to manifold dangers and diseases, unless under some special protection; therefore it was not unusual to get it eradicated by a dog, fastened to it by a cord, and who was whipped off until the precious root was pulled out. According to Josephus, the plant called Buaras, which was gifted with the faculty of keeping off evil spirits, was obtained by a similar canine operation. Often, it was asserted, did the mandragore utter piteous cries and groans, when thus severed from mother earth. Albertus the Great affirms that the root has a more powerful action when growing under a gibbet, and is brought to greater perfection by the nourishing secretions that drop from the criminal's dangling corpse.

Amongst its many wonderful properties, it was said to double the amount of money that was locked up with it in a box. It was also all-powerful in detecting hidden treasures. Most probably the mandragore had bad qualities to underrate its good ones. Amongst these, we must certainly class the blackest ingratitude, since it never seemed to benefit the eloquent advocates of its virtues, who, in general, were as poor as their boasted plant was rich in attraction.

It was also supposed to possess the delightful faculty of increasing population and exciting love; and the Emperor Julian writes to Calixines that he is drinking the juice of mandragore to render him amorous. Hence was it called Loveapple; and Venus bore the name of Mandragontis. It has been asserted by various scholiasts, that the mandrake which Reuben found in the fields and carried to his mother, Leah, was the mandragore; the Dudaim, however, which he gathered was not, according to all accounts, an unpleasant fruit, but is supposed to have been a species of orchis, still used in the East in love-philters and prolific potions. The word Dudaim seems to express a tuberculated plant; and in Solomon's Songs, he thus describes it: "The mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved." Now it is utterly impossible, whatever may have been the revolution in taste since the days of Solomon, that the nauseous and offensive mandragore could have been considered as a propitiating present to a lady.

The etymology of the word Dudaim would seem to describe it. It is derived from the word [Hebrew], (Dadim) breasts, or [Hebrew], (Dodim) friends, neighbours, twins; which indicates that this plant is formed of two similar parts. It is thought that the Dudaim might be the highly-scented melon which is cultivated in the East, especially in Persia, and known by the name of Destenbuje, or the Cucumis Dudaim of Linnaeus, and which is also found in Italy, where its powerful aroma is imparted to garments and chambers. It must have been an odoriferous production, since in the Talmud we find it denominated Siglin, which has been considered the jessamine or the lily. The orchis is remarkable for its double bulbous roots and its agreeable perfume; we may therefore justify the idea that the Dudaim of the Jews was a species of this plant.

Frontinus informs us that Hannibal employed mandragore in one of his warlike stratagems, when he feigned a retreat, and left in the possession of the barbarians a quantity of wine in which this plant had been infused. Intoxicated by the potent beverage, they were unable to withstand his second attack, and were easily put to the sword. Was it the mandragore that saved the Scotch in a similar ruse de guerre with the Danish invaders of Sweno? It is supposed to have been the Belladonna, or deadly nightshade, the effects of which are not dissimilar to those of the plant in question.

In the north of Europe, this substance is still used for medicinal purposes; and Boerhaave, Hoffberg, and Swediaur have strongly recommended it in glandular swellings, arthritic pains, and various diseases where a profuse perspiration may be desirable.

Machiavel has made the fabulous powers of the mandragore the subject of a comedy, and Lafontaine has employed it as an agent in one of his tales.

Another root that excited superstitious phantasies and reverential awe, from its supposed resemblance to the human form, was the Gin-seng, a Chinese production, which, according to the author of the Kao-li-tchi-tsan, or Eulogium of the Kingdom of Corea, "imitates the configuration of man and the efficacy of spiritual comfort, possessing hands and feet like a human being, and the mental virtues that no one can easily comprehend." According to Jartoux, Gin-seng signifies "the representation of man." It appears, however, that the learned father was in error. Jin, it is true, signifies man; but Chen does not mean representation, but a ternary body. Hence Gin-seng signifies the ternary of man, making three with man and heaven!--no doubt some superstitious tradition, since this root bears various names in other countries, that plainly denote the veneration in which it was held. In Japan it is called Nindsin, and Orkhoda in the Tatar-Mandchou language, both of which mean "the queen of plants." Father Lafitau informs us that the name of Garent-oguen of the Iroquois, which it also bears, means the thighs of man. The Gin-seng is a native of Tartary, Corea, and also thrives in Canada, Virginia, and Pennsylvania, in shaded and damp situations, as it soon perishes under the solar rays. The Chinese attach considerable value to it. Thunberg informs us that it sometimes is sold for forty pounds a pound; and Osbeck states that in his time it was worth twenty-four times its weight in silver. This enormous price frequently induced foreign smugglers to bring it into the Chinese territory; but the severest laws were enacted to punish this fraudulent traffic. The Tartars alone possess the privilege of cultivating and collecting it; and the districts that produce this precious plant are surrounded with palisades, and strictly guarded. In 1707, the Emperor of China, to increase his revenue, sent a body of ten thousand troops to collect the gin-seng. According to the Chinese physicians, this root possesses the faculty of renovating exhausted constitutions, giving fresh vigour, raising the drooping moral and physical faculties, and restoring to health and embonpoint the victim of debauchery. It is also said that a bit of the root chewed by a man running a race will prevent his competitor from getting the start of him. It is somewhat singular that the same property is attributed to garlic; and the Hungarian jockeys frequently tie a clove of it to their racers' bits, when the horses that run against them fall back the moment they breathe the offensive odour. It has been proved that no horse will eat in a manger if the mouth of any other steed in the stable has been rubbed with the juice of this plant. I had occasion to ascertain this fact. A horse of mine was in the same stall with one belonging to a brother officer; mine fell away and refused his food, while his companion throve uncommonly well. I at last discovered that a German groom, who had charge of the prosperous animal, had recourse to this vile stratagem. It is also supposed that men who eat garlic knock up upon a march the soldiers who have not made use of it. Hence, in the old regulations of the French armies, there existed an order to prohibit the use of garlic when troops were on a march.

BARBER-SURGEONS, AND THE PROGRESS OF CHIRURGICAL ART.

No consideration should render man more thankful to his Creator, and justly proud of the progress of human intellect, than the perfection to which the art of surgery has been carried. In its present improved condition, we are struck with horror at the perusal of the ancient practice, and marvel that its barbarity did not sooner induce its professors to diminish the sum of misery it inflicted on their victims. Ignorance, and its offspring Superstition, seemed to sanctify this darkness. Improvement was considered as impious and unnecessary; and to deny the powers of the chirurgical art, heresy against the holy men, who alone were permitted to exercise it.

This supposed divine attribute of the priesthood can be traced to remote ages: Aesculapius was son of Apollo, and princes and heroes did not consider the art of surgery beneath their dignity. Homer has illustrated the skill of Podalirius and Chiron; and Idomeneus bids Nestor to mount his chariot with Machaon, who alone was more precious than a thousand warriors; while we find Podalirius, wrecked and forlorn on the Carian coast, leading to the altar the daughter of the monarch whom he cured, and whose subjects raised a temple to his memory, and paid him divine honours.

Tradition informs us, that in the infancy of the art all its branches were exercised indiscriminately by the medical practitioners. It was not then supposed that the human body was subject to distinct affections, external and internal; yet, as its study advanced, the ancients were led into an opposite extreme, and we find that in Egypt each disease became the province of a special attendant, regulated in his treatment by the sacred records handed down by their hierarchy.

Herodotus informs us, that "so wisely was medicine managed by the Egyptians, that no physician was allowed to practise any but his own peculiar branch." Accouchments were exclusively the province of females.

These practitioners were remunerated by the state; and they were severely punished, when, by any experimental trials, they deviated from the prescribed rules imposed upon them, and, in the event of any patient dying under a treatment differing from the established practice, the medical attendant was considered guilty of a capital offence. These wise provisions were made, says Diodorus, in the full conviction that few persons were capable of introducing any new treatment superior to that which had been sanctioned and approved by old practitioners.

Pliny complains that no such laws existed in Rome, where a physician was the only man who could commit murder with impunity; "Nulla praeterea lex," he says, "quae puniat inscitium capitalem, nullum exemplum vindictae. Discunt periculis nostris, et experimenta per mortes agunt: medicoque tantum hominem occidisse impunitas summa est."

By one of these singular anomalies in public opinion, this supposed divine science was soon considered an ignoble profession. In Rome it was chiefly practised by slaves, freedmen, or foreigners. From the overthrow of the Roman empire till the revival of literature and the arts in Europe, medicine and surgery sought a refuge amongst the Arabians, who studied both branches in common; for, though exiled to the coast of Africa in point of scientific cultivation, it was necessarily cultivated in other countries, and in the greater part of Europe became the exclusive right of ecclesiastics. In time, however, it was gradually wrested from their hands by daily necessities; and every one, even amongst the lowest classes, professed himself a surgeon, and the cure of the hurt and the lame was intrusted to menials and women.

As the church could no longer monopolize the art of healing, it became expedient to stigmatize it, although that very faculty had but lately been their boast; but it had fallen within the powers of vulgar and profane comprehension, and therefore was useless to maintain sacerdotal pre-eminence. In 1163, the Council of Tours, held by Pope Alexander III., maintained that the devil, to seduce the priesthood from the duties of the altar, involved them in mundane occupations, which, under the plea of humanity, exposed them to constant and perilous temptations. The edict not only prohibited the study both of medicine and law amongst all that had taken religious vows, but actually excommunicated every ecclesiastic who might infringe the decree. It appears, however, that the temptations of the evil one were still attractive, as Pope Honorius III., in 1215, was obliged to fulminate a fresh anathema on transgressors, with an additional canon, ordaining that, as the church abhorred all cruel or sanguinary practices, not only no priest should be allowed the practice of surgery, but should refuse their benediction to all who professed it.[26]

The practice then fell into the hands of laymen, although priests, still regretting the advantages that it formerly had yielded them, were consulted in their convents or houses; and when patients could not visit them without exposing them to clerical censure, they asserted their ability to cure diseases by the mere inspection of the patient's dejections; and so much faith was reposed in this filthy practice, that Henry II. decreed that upon the complaints of the heirs of persons who died through the fault of their physicians, the latter should suffer capital punishment, as having been the cause of their patient's death, unless they had scientifically examined what was submitted to their investigation by the deceased's relatives or domestics: and then proceeded to prescribe for the malady.

Unable to quit their cloisters, in surgical cases, which could not be so easily cured at a distance, sooner than lose the emoluments of the profession, they sent their servants, or rather the barbers of the community, who shaved, and bled, and drew teeth in their neighbourhood ever since the clergy could no longer perform these operations, on the plea of the maxim "Ecclesia abhorret a sanguine;" bleeding and tooth-drawing being, I believe, the only cases where this maxim was noticed. From this circumstance arose the barber craft or barber-surgeons.

These practitioners, from their various avocations, were necessarily dexterous; for, in addition to the skill required for good shaving, tonsurating the crowns of clerical heads was a delicate operation; and it was about this period that Pope Alexander III. revised the canon issued by the synod of Carthage respecting the tonsure of the clergy. Surgery being thus degraded, the separation between its practice and that of medicine became unavoidable, and the two branches were formally made distinct by bulls of Boniface VI. and Clement V.

St. Louis, who had witnessed the services of surgeons in the field of battle during the crusades, had formed a college or confrerie of surgeons, in honour of St. Cosme and St. Damian, in 1268; and wounds and sores were dressed gratis in the churches dedicated to those saints on the first Monday of every month. To this body, of course, the barber-surgeons, or fraters of the priests, who had not received any regular education, did not belong. Hence arose the distinction, which even to the present day obtains in various parts of the Continent, where surgeons are divided into two classes,--those who had gone through a regular course of studies, and those who, without any academical education, were originally employed as the servants of the priests and barbers. So late as the year 1809, one of my assistants in the Portuguese army felt much hurt at my declining his offer to shave me; and in 1801, some British assistant-surgeons, who had entered the Swedish navy, were ordered to shave the ship's company, and were dismissed the service in consequence of their refusal to comply with this command.

But to return to our barbers.--These ambitious shavers gradually attempted to glean in the footsteps of the regular chirurgeons, and even to encroach upon their domain, by performing more important operations than phlebotomy and tooth-drawing; the audacious intruders were therefore very properly brought up ex officio by the attorney-general of France, and forbidden to transgress the boundaries of their art, until they had been duly examined by master chirurgeons; although these said masters were not better qualified than many of the barbers. Such was their ignorance indeed, that Pitard, an able practitioner, who had successively been the surgeon of St. Louis, Philip the Brave, and Philip the Fair, obtained a privilege to examine and grant licences to such of these masters who were fit to practise, without which licence all practitioners were liable to be punished by the provost of Paris; and in 1372 barbers were only allowed to dress boils, bruises, and open wounds.

Although this account chiefly refers to France and its capital, yet the same distinction and division between surgeons and barbers prevailed in almost every other country; and privileges were maintained with as much virulence and absurdity as the present controversial bickerings between physicians and surgeons.

In 1355 these master-surgeons constituted a faculty, which pocketed one-half of the penalties imposed upon the unlucky wights who had not the honour of belonging to their body. They also enjoyed various immunities and exemptions; amongst others, that of not keeping guard and watch in the city of Paris. To increase their emoluments, they granted as many honorary distinctions as they could in decency devise, and introduced the categories of bachelors, licentiates, masters, graduates, and non-graduates of surgery. The medical faculty now began to complain of the encroachments of the master-surgeons on their internal domain of poor mortality with as much bitterness as the masters complained of the impertinent invasion on the part of the barbers, of their external dominion. To court the powerful protection of the university against these interlopers, the surgeons consented to be considered as the scholars of the medical faculty, chiefly governed by clerical physicians.

In 1452 a fresh source of dissension arose amongst clerical physicians, lay physicians, master surgeons, and barbers. Cardinal Etoutville abolished the law which bound the physicians of the university to celibacy, when, to use the historian's words, "many of the clerical physicians, thinking there was more comfort to be found in a wife without a benefice than could be expected in a benefice without a wife, abandoned the priesthood, and were then permitted to visit their patients at their own houses." Thus thrown into the uncontrolled practice of medicine, these physicians became jealous of the influence of the surgeons, to whom they had been so much indebted; and they had recourse to every art and manoeuvre that priestcraft could devise to oppress and degrade them. To aid this purpose, they resorted to the barbers, whom they instructed in private, to enable them to oppose the master-surgeons more effectually. The surgeons, indignant at this protection, had recourse to the medical faculty, supplicating them to have the barbers shorn of their rising dignity. Thus for mere motives of pecuniary interest, and the evident detriment of society, did these intriguing practitioners struggle for power and consequent fees; and, according to the vacillation of their interests, the barbers became alternately the allies of the physicians or the mercenary skirmishers of the surgeons.

From this oppression of the art, for nearly three centuries surgery was considered a degrading profession. Excluded from the university, not only were surgeons deprived of all academic honours and privileges, but subjected to those taxes and public burdens from which the members of the university, being of the clerical order, were exempted. This persecution not only strove to injure them in a worldly point of view, but the priests carried their vindictive feelings to such a point of malignity that when Charles IX. was about to confer the rites of apostolical benediction upon the surgeons of the long robe, the medical faculty interposed on the plea of their not being qualified to receive this benediction, as they did not belong to any of the four faculties of the university; and as the chancellor, or any other man, had not the power of conferring a blessing without the pope's permission and special mandate, both surgeons and barbers ought to be irrevocably damned. The apostolical benediction in those days was considered of great value, since it exempted all candidates from examination in anatomy, medicine, surgery, or any other qualification, when they applied for a degree.

Ever since the healing art ceased to be a clerical privilege, and a state of rivalry prevailed between spiritual and corporeal doctors, the former have sought to represent their opponents as infidels and atheists--the unbelief of physicians became prevalent, and to this day medical men are generally considered freethinkers;--an appellation which in a strictly correct acceptation might be considered more complimentary than opprobrious, since it designates a man, who extricating his intellectual faculties from the meshes of ignorance or prejudices, takes the liberty of thinking for himself.

Sir Thomas Brown in his "Religio Medici," alludes to this injurious opinion entertained of medical men, when he says, "For my religion, though there be several circumstances that might persuade the world I have none at all, as the general scandal of my profession, the natural course of my studies, the indifferency of my behaviour and discourse in matters of religion--yet in despite thereof, I dare, without usurpation, assume the honourable style of Christian."

Sir Kenelm Digby in his observations on the work from which the above is extracted, entertains a similar opinion, and quotes Friar Bacon in support of it. The following are his words: "Those students who busy themselves much with such notions as reside wholly in the fantasy, do hardly ever become idoneous for abstracted metaphysical speculations; the one having bulky foundations of matter, or of the accidents of it, to settle upon--at the least with one foot; the other flying continually, even to a lessening pitch in the subtile air. And accordingly it hath been generally noted, that the excellent mathematicians, who converse altogether with lines, figures, and other differences of quantity, have seldom proved eminent in metaphysics or speculative divinity. Nor again, the profession of their sciences in other arts, much less can it be expected that an excellent physician, whose fancy is always fraught with the material drugs that he prescribeth his apothecary to compound his medicines of, and whose hands are inured to the cutting up, and eyes to the inspection of anatomized bodies, should easily and with success ply his thoughts at so towering a game, as a pure intellect, or separated and unbodied soul."

That such ideas should be maintained in former days, when bigotry and prejudice reigned paramount, we cannot be surprised; but one must marvel to see a modern and intelligent annotator of Brown's work,[27] coincide in this illiberal opinion, in the following terms:

"Imaginative men, that is, persons in whom the higher attributes of genius are found, seldom delight in the sciences conversant with mere matter or form; least of all in medicine, the object of which is the derangement, or imperfection of nature, and the endeavour to substitute order and harmony in the place of their opposites. Brought thus chiefly into contact with diseased organization, surrounded by the worst elements of civil society, (for their experience must in general be among the intemperate and the vicious,) they may be said to exist in an infected moral atmosphere, and it is therefore not greatly to be wondered at that among such persons a highly religious frame of mind should be the exception and not the rule."

The absurdity of this observation can only be equalled by its extreme illiberality. Can it be for one moment entertained, that the physician who gives his care to every class of society and at all ages "exists in an infected moral atmosphere?" Supposing that he is not fortunate enough to attend upon the opulent and the great, and is limited to a pauper or an hospital practice, does Mr. St. John mean to say that instances of intemperance and vice are confined to the indigent, although want of education, and poverty may degrade them in crapulous pursuits? If there does exist a profession pre-eminent for its philanthropic character, and the power of discrimination between good and evil, and right and wrong, it is undoubtedly that of medicine. The finest feelings of humanity are constantly brought to bear, both in seeking to relieve bodily sufferings and solacing an afflicted mind--whether it be with the scalpel in hand in an anatomical theatre, or by the bedside of an agonized sufferer, whom he hopes, under Providence, to restore to health and to his family, the physician has daily opportunities of beholding the wonders of the creation and the benevolence of the Creator--he is a constant witness of the fervent supplication of the unfortunate and the heartfelt gratitude of those suppliants at the throne of mercy, whose prayers have been heard. A man of exalted benevolence (and such a physician ought to be), he must be alive to all the generous feelings of humanity, and he is doomed more frequently to move in an infected moral atmosphere, when gratuitously attending some of the troublesome and pedantic legislators of the republic of letters, than when exerting his skill to relieve the grateful poor who may fall under his care.

It has been maintained that the physician seeking in the arcana of nature the causes of every vital phenomenon becomes a materialist: nothing can be more unjust, nay, more absurd, than such a supposition. The study of physiology teaches us, more perhaps then any other pursuit, to admire the wonderful works of our Creator, and Voltaire has beautifully illustrated the fact in the following lines:

Demandez a Sylva par quel secret mystere Ce pain, cet aliment dans mon corps digere, Se transforme en un lait doucement prepare; Comment, toujours filtre dans des routes certaines, En longs ruisseaux de pourpre il court enfler mes veines; A mon corps languissant donne un pouvoir nouveau, Fait palpiter mon coeur et penser mon cerveau; Il leve au ciel les yeux, il s'incline, il s'ecrie Demandez le a CE DIEU qui m'a donnez la vie.

Broeseche has justly said, Tanta est inter deum, religionem, et medicum connexio, ut sine Deo et religione nullus exactus medicus esse queat; and it has truly been said by a later writer, "that a philosophic physician must seek in religion, strength of mind to support the painful exertions of his profession, and some consolation for the ingratitude of mankind."

Amongst the many glaring absurdities which retarded the progress of medical studies, one cannot but notice the presumptuous claims of the physicians to the exclusive privilege of teaching surgery to their pupils, while anatomy was solely professed by surgeons, and not considered necessary in the instruction of a physician. All these anomalies can be easily traced to that spirit of dominion, exclusion, and monopoly, which invariably characterized clerical bodies. To such a pitch was this destructive practice carried, that surgeons were only allowed to perform operations in the presence of one or more physicians: nor were they permitted to publish any work on their profession until it had been licensed by a faculty who were utterly ignorant of the matter of which it treated. The celebrated Ambrose Pare could only obtain as a special favour from his sovereign, the permission to give to the world one of its most valuable sources of information.

So late as 1726 we find the medical faculty of Paris making a formal representation to Cardinal de Noailles and the curates of that capital to prevent surgeons from granting certificates of health or of disease, and this application was grounded on the pious motive of enforcing a more rigid observance of Lent! They further insisted that this indispensable mortification was eluded in consequence of the facility of obtaining certificates that permitted persons stated to be indisposed to eat animal food, eggs, and butter, whence infidelity was making a most alarming progress, threatening the very existence of church and state, and the overthrow of every ancient and glorious institution. The faculty were formally thanked for their pious zeal in the true interests of religion, and the spiritual welfare of their patients; and orders were affixed upon the door of every church, anathematizing all certificates that emanated from the unholy hands of surgeons and barbers.

These unfortunate barbers, although they humbly submitted to the sway of both physicians and surgeons when it suited their purpose, were in turn persecuted by both their allies and alternate protectors; so much so, that the clerical practitioners at one time prohibited them from bleeding, and conferred this privilege upon the bagnio-keepers. From the well-known nature of these establishments, various may be the reasons that led to this patronage, which was clearly an attempt to qualify bagnio-keepers to extend their convenient trade.

At last, in the year 1505, barbers were dignified with the name of surgeons. Their instructions were delivered in their vernacular tongue, until the university again interfered, and ordered that lectures should be delivered in Latin; once more closing alma-mater against illiterate shavers, who were, however, obliged to give a smattering of classical education to their sons destined to wield alternately the razor and the lancet. In 1655, surgeons and barber-surgeons were incorporated in one college; a union which was further confirmed, in 1660, by royal ordonnance, under some limitations, whereby the barbers should not assume the title of licentiates, bachelors, or professors, nor be allowed to wear the honourable gown and cap that distinguished the higher grades of learning. Red caps were in former times given by each barber to his teacher on his being qualified, and gloves to all his fellow-students.

Thus we find that the high state of perfection which the surgical art has attained is solely due to the efforts of industry to free itself from the ignoble trammels of bigotry and prejudice. Intellectual progress has invariably been opposed in every country by those powerful and interested individuals who derived their wealth and influence from the ignorance of society. Corporate bodies monopolizing the exercise of any profession will invariably retard instruction and shackle the energies of the student. It is, no doubt, indispensable that the practice of medicine in all its branches should only be allowed to such persons as are duly qualified; but whenever pecuniary advantages are derived from the grant of the permission, abuses as dishonourable as they are injurious to society will infallibly prevail. In Great Britain the period of study required in medical candidates is by no means sufficient. Five or six years is the very lowest period that should be insisted on; and, when duly instructed, degrees and licences should be conferred without fee, on all applicants, by a board of examiners unprejudiced and disinterested. This mode of granting licences would add to the respectability of the profession, while it would ensure proper attendance to the public. Physicians and surgeons would then become (what to a certain extent the latter are at present, though illegally as far as the laws of the college go), general practitioners, and society would no longer be infested by the swarms of practising apothecaries, who, from the very nature of their education, can only be skilled in making up medicines, or who must have obtained experience in the lessons taught by repeated failures in their early practice, unless perchance they have stepped beyond the usual confined instruction of their class. The consequences that arise from this fatal system are but too obvious. These men live by selling drugs, which they unmercifully supply, to the material injury of the patient's constitution. If, after ringing all the changes of their materia medica without causing the church-bell to toll, they find themselves puzzled and bewildered, a physician or a surgeon is called in, and too frequently these practitioners are bound by tacit agreement not to diminish the revenue that the shop produces. If it were necessary to prove the evils that result from the monopolizing powers vested in corporate institutions, the proof might be sought and found in the virulence and jealousy which they evince in resisting reform, from whatever quarter it may be dreaded; and it may be said that too many of the practising apothecaries of the present day stand in the same relative situation in the medical profession as the barbers of olden times.

This faculty of exercising every branch of the profession, however qualified, is of olden date, and we find on the subject the following lines in the writings of Alcuin in the time of Charlemagne:

Accurrunt medici mox Hippocratica tecta: Hic venas findit, herbas hic miscet in olla; Ille coquit pultes, alter sed pocula perfert.

ON DREAMS.

Philosophical ingenuity has long been displayed in the most learned disquisitions in an endeavour to account for the nature of these phenomena. The strangeness of these visionary perturbations of our rest--their supposed influence on our destinies--their frequent verification by subsequent events--have always shed a mystic prestige around them; and superstition, ignorance, and craft, have in turns characterized them as the warnings of the Divine will, or the machinations of an evil spirit.

Macrobius divided them into various categories. The first, the mere dream, somnium, he considers a figurative and mysterious representation that requires to be interpreted. Dion Cassius gives an example of this in the case of Nero, who dreamt that he saw the chair of Jupiter pass into the palace of Vespasian, which was considered as emblematical of his translation to the empire.

The second distinction he terms a vision, visio, or a foreboding of future events. The third he deemed oracular, oraculum, and this was the case when a priest, or a relative, a deity, a hero, or some venerable person, denounced what was to happen, or warned us against it. As an example of this inspiration, for such it was considered, an anecdote of Vespasian is related. Having heard that a man in Achaia had dreamt that a person unknown to him had assured him that he should date his prosperity from the moment that Nero should lose a tooth,--a tooth just drawn from that emperor being shown to him the following day, he foresaw his destinies: soon after Nero died, Galba did not long survive him, and the discord that reigned between Otho and Vitellius ultimately placed the diadem on his brow. These inspirations were considered by Cicero, and various philosophers, as particularly appertaining to the shrine of the gods; those who sought that heavenly admonition were therefore recommended to lie down in temples. The Lacedaemonians sought slumber in the temple of Pasithea; Brizo, the goddess of sleep and dreams, was worshipped at Delos, and her votaries slept before her altars with their heads bound with laurel, and other fatidical symbols; hence divination by dreams was called Brizomantia. Supplications were offered up to Mercury for propitious visions, and a caduceus was placed for that purpose at the feet of beds; hence was it called [Greek: ermies].

Diodorus informs us that dreams were regarded in Egypt with religious reverence, and the prayers of the devout were often rewarded by the gods with an indication of appropriate remedies. But the confidence in supernatural agency and the power of magic, was only deemed a last resource, when human skill had been baffled. Some persons promised a certain sum of money for the maintenance of sacred animals, consecrated to the divinity whose aid they implored. In the case of infants, a certain portion of their hair was cut off and weighed, and when the cure was effected an equal quantity of gold was given to the successful intermediator.

The fourth division was insomny, insomnium, which was characterized by a disturbed repose, caused either by mental or bodily oppression, or solicitude. The fifth class of dreams was the phantasm or visus, which takes place between sleeping and waking, in a dozing and broken slumber, when the person thinks himself awake, and yet beholds fantastic and chimerical figures floating around his couch. Under this class is placed the ephialtes, or night-mare. Macrobius represents the phantasm and the insomnium as little deserving of attention, being of no use in divination and prediction.

When these notions prevailed, the interpretation of dreams became a profitable trade; and it is a lamentable truth, that, to the present day, it is considered a speculation upon credulity. We find in Plutarch's Life of Aristides that there were tables drawn out for this purpose; and he speaks of one Lysimachus, a grandson of Aristides, who gained a handsome livelihood by this profession, taking up his station near the temple of Bacchus. Rules of interpretation were formed by Artemidorus, who lived in the reign of Antoninus Pius, and he drew his conclusions from circumstances considered either propitious or sinister. Thus, to dream of a large nose, signified subtlety; of rosemary or sage, trouble and weakness; of a midwife, disclosure of secrets; of a leopard, a deceitful person. These interpretations became so multiplied, that at last it was decreed that no dreams which related to the public weal should be regarded, unless they had visited the brains of some magistrates, or more than one individual. But what limits can any enactment assign to the influence of credulity and superstition? Cicero informs us that the Consul Lucius Julius repaired to the temple of Juno Sospita, in obedience to a decree of the senate regarding the dream of Caecilia, daughter of Balearicus.

In more modern times we have often seen dreams resorted to, in order to assist the speculations of policy and priestcraft; some of them as absurd in their nature as revolting in their interpretation. Monkish records relate that St. Bernard's mother dreamed that she had a little white dog barking about her, which was interpreted to her by a religious person as meaning "that she should be the mother of an excellent dog indeed, who should be the hope of God's house, and would incessantly bark against its adversaries, for he should be a famous preacher, and cure many by his medicinal tongue." Our Archbishop Laurence, to whom we owe the church of Our Lady at Canterbury, was about to emigrate to France under the discouragement of persecution, until warned in a dream, and severely scourged by St. Peter for his weakness. It was on the relation not only of this dream, but on actually exhibiting the marks of the stripes he had received, that Eadbald was baptized, and became a protector of the church. It was in a dream of this description that St. Andrew instructed Peter Pontanus how to find out the spear that had pierced our Saviour's side, and which was hidden somewhere near Antioch. Antioch was at that time besieged by the Persians, and half famished; but this weapon being carried by a bishop, enabled the besieged to beleaguer Caiban, the Persian general.

The Peripatetics represented dreams as arising from a presaging faculty of the mind; other sects imagined that they were suggestions of daemons. Democritus and Lucretius looked upon them as spectres and simulacra of corporeal things, emitted from them, floating in the air, and assailing the soul. A modern writer, Andrew Baxter, entertained a notion somewhat similar, and imagined that dreams were prompted by separate immaterial beings, or spirits, who had access to the sleeper's brain with the faculty of inspiring him with various ideas. Burton divides dreams into natural, divine, and daemoniacal; and he defines sleep, after Scaliger, as "the rest or binding of the outward senses, and of the common sense, for the preservation of body and soul."

Gradually released from the trammels of superstition, modern philosophers have sought for more plausible explanations of the nature and causes of dreams, but perhaps without having attained a greater degree of certainty in this difficult question than our bewildered ancestors. Wolfius is of opinion that every dream originates in some sensation, yet the independent energies of the mind are sufficiently displayed in the preservation of the continued phantasms of the imagination. He maintains that none of these phantasms can prevail unless they arise from this previous sensation. De Formey is of the same opinion, and conceives that dreams are supernatural when not produced by these sensations. But of what nature are these sensations? Are they corporeal impressions received prior to sleep, and the continuances of reflection, or are they the children of an idle brain? Although it is not easy to trace an affinity between the subjects of our dreams and our previous train of thought, yet it is more than probable that dreams are excited by impressions experienced in our waking moments, and retransmitted to the sensorium, however difficult it may be to link the connexion of our ideas, and trace their imperceptible catenation. Moreover, there does not exist a necessary and regular association in the state of mind that succeeds any particular impressions. These impressions only predispose the mind to certain ideas, which act upon it with more or less subsequent energy, and with more or less irregularity, according to the condition in which the predisposing causes have left it. It has been observed that we seldom dream of the objects of our love or our antipathies. Such dreams may not be the natural results of such sentiments. We may fondly love a woman, and in our dreams transfer this soft sensation of fondness to another individual,--to a dog that fondles us, or any other pleasing object. We may have experienced fear--in a storm at sea; yet we may not dream of being tossed about in a boat, but of being mounted upon a runaway horse who hurries us to destruction, or of flying from a falling avalanche. Our mind had been predisposed by fear to receive any terrific impression, and most probably these alarming phantasms will be of a chimerical and an extravagant nature. A man who has been bitten by a dog may fancy himself in the coils of a boa-constrictor. When dreaming, the mind is in an abstracted state; but still is its reciprocal influence over the body manifest, although it is powerless on volition. Vigilance in sleep is still awake; but her assistance is of no avail until the connexion between mind and body is aroused by any alarm from external agents. It is well known that a hungry man will dream of an ample repast. A patient with a blister on his head has fancied himself scalped by Indians in all their fantastic ornaments. Somnambulism clearly proves that the mind retains its energies in sleep. Locke has justly observed that dreams are made up of the waking man's ideas, although oddly put together. Hartley is of opinion that dreams are nothing but the reveries of sleeping men, and are deducible from the impressions and ideas lately received, the state of the body, and association. I have endeavoured to explain, on the ground of the general effects of predisposition, the anomalies which so often are displayed in these associations. Of the surprising powers of the mind in somnambulism we have many instances too well authenticated to be doubted. Henricus ab Heeres was in the habit of composing in his sleep, reading aloud his productions, expressing his satisfaction, and calling to his chamber-fellow to join in the commendation. Caelius Rhodiginus when busied in his interpretation of Pliny, could only find the proper signification of the word ectrapali in his slumbers. There is not the least doubt but that the mind is capable of receiving impressions of knowledge, but more particularly inspirations of genius, when the body is lulled in a state of apparent repose. Dreams have been ingeniously compared to a drama defective in the laws of unity, and unconnected by constant anachronisms. Yet certain incoherences are not frequent: Darwin has justly remarked that a woman will seldom dream that she is a soldier, and a soldier's visions will seldom expose him to the apprehensions of child-birth. Buffon has observed, "We represent to ourselves persons whom we have never seen, and such as have been dead for many years; we behold them alive and such as they were, but we associate them with actual things, or with persons of other times. It is the same with our ideas of locality; we see things not where they were, but elsewhere, where they never could have been."

Dugald Stewart has endeavoured to account for these phenomena by the doctrine that in sleep the operations of the mind are suspended, and that therefore the cause of dreams is the loss of power of the will over the mind, which in the waking condition is subject to its control. Now, if this be the case, dreams must consist of mental operations independent of the will. However, it is not the suspension of the will and of the powers of volition that alone constitutes sleep; it is the suspension of the powers of the understanding,--attention, comparison, memory, and judgment. It is in consequence of this suspension of all our active intellectual faculties that we never can will during our dreams; in that state there appears to be a resistance of the powers of volition with which the mind struggles in vain, and which is expressed both by moans, and the character of the sleeper's every feature, which portrays a state of anguish and impatience. In all dreams that are not of a morbid nature, every action is passive, involuntary. This state is widely different from delirium, in which the brain is in a morbid state of excitement; and the body is more susceptible than usual of external agency, while the mind is perplexed by hallucinations of an erroneous nature.

Dr. Abercrombie considers insanity and dreaming as having a remarkable affinity when considered as mental phenomena; the impressions in the one case being more or less permanent, and transient in the other. Somnambulism he considers an intermediate state. Dreams, according to his theory, are divided into four classes: the first, when recent events and recent mental emotions are mixed up with each other, and with old events, by some feeling common to both; the second class relates to trains of images brought up by association with bodily sensations; the third, the result of forgotten associations; and the fourth class of dreams contains those in which a strong propensity of character, or a strong mental emotion, is imbodied in a dream, and by some natural coincidence is fulfilled. The following interesting cases that fell under Dr. Abercrombie's immediate notice, illustrate his views and the above classification.

Regarding the first class, Dr. A. relates the following: "A woman, who was a patient in the clinical ward of the infirmary of Edinburgh, under the care of Dr. Duncan, talked a great deal in her sleep, and made numerous and very distinct allusions to the cases of other sick persons. These allusions did not apply to any patients who were in the ward at the time; but, after some observation, they were found to refer correctly to the cases of individuals who were there when this woman was a patient in the ward two years before."

The following is an instance of phantasms being produced by our associations with bodily sensations, and tends to show how alive our faculties continue during sleep to the slightest impressions:

The subject of this observation was an officer in the expedition to Louisburg in 1758, who had this peculiarity in so remarkable a degree, that his companions in the transport were in the constant habit of amusing themselves at his expense. They could produce in him any kind of dream by whispering in his ear, especially if this was done by a friend with whose voice he had become familiar. One time they conducted him through the whole progress of a quarrel, which ended in a duel; and when the parties were supposed to have met, a pistol was put into his hand, which he fired, and was awakened by the report. On another occasion they found him asleep on the top of a locker in the cabin, when they made him believe he had fallen overboard, and exhorted him to save himself by swimming. They then told him that a shark was pursuing him, and entreated him to dive for his life. He instantly did so, and with so much force as to throw himself from the locker upon the cabin floor, by which he was much bruised, and awakened of course. After the landing of the army at Louisburg, his friends found him one day asleep in his tent, and evidently much annoyed by the cannonading. They then made him believe that he was engaged, when he expressed great fear, and showed an evident disposition to run away. Against this they remonstrated, but at the same time increased his fears by imitating the groans of the wounded and the dying; and when he asked, as he often did, who was hit, they named his particular friends. At last they told him that the man next himself in his company had fallen, when he instantly sprung from his bed, rushed out of the tent, and was only roused from his danger and his dream by falling over the tent-ropes. A remarkable thing in this case was, that after these experiments he had no distinct recollection of his dreams, but only a confused feeling of oppression or fatigue, and used to tell his friends that he was sure they had been playing some trick upon him. It has been observed that we seldom feel courageous or daring in our dreams, and generally avoid danger when menaced by a foe, or exposed to any probable peril.

The third class of dreams relates to the revival of forgotten associations. The person in question was at the time connected with one of the principal banks in Glasgow, and was at his place at the teller's table, where money is paid, when a person entered demanding payment of a sum of six pounds. There were several people waiting, who were in turn entitled to be attended to before him; but he was remarkably impatient and rather noisy, and being besides a remarkable stammerer, he became so annoying, that another gentleman requested him to pay the money and get rid of him. He did so accordingly, but with an expression of impatience at being obliged to attend to him before his turn, and thought no more of the transaction. At the end of the year, which was eight or nine months after, the books of the bank could not be made to balance, the deficiency being exactly six pounds. Several days and nights had been spent in endeavouring to discover the error, but without success, when he returned home much fatigued, and went to bed. He dreamt of being at his place in the bank, and the whole transaction of the stammerer, as now detailed, passed before him in all its particulars. He awoke under the full impression that the dream would lead him to the discovery of what he was so anxiously in search of, and on examination he soon discovered that he had neglected to enter the sum which he had thus paid.

The following singular dreams are examples of the fourth class. A clergyman had come to Edinburgh from a short distance in the country, and was sleeping at an inn, when he dreamt of seeing a fire, and one of his children in the midst of it. He awoke with the impression, and instantly left town on his return home. When he arrived in sight of his house, he found it on fire, and got there in time to assist in saving one of his children, who in the alarm and confusion had been left in a situation of danger.

A gentleman in Edinburgh was affected with aneurism of the popliteal artery, for which he was under the care of two eminent surgeons, and the day was fixed for the operation. About two days before the appointed time, the wife of the patient dreamt that a favourable change had taken place in the disease, in consequence of which the operation would not be required. On examining the tumour in the morning, the gentleman was astonished to find that the pulsation had entirely ceased, and, in short, this turned out to be a spontaneous cure,--a very rare occurrence in surgical practice.

The following dream is still more remarkable. A lady dreamt that an aged female relative had been murdered by a black servant, and the dream occurred more than once. She was then so impressed by it, that she went to the house of the lady, and prevailed upon a gentleman to watch in an adjoining room during the following night. About three o'clock in the morning, the gentleman, hearing footsteps on the stairs, left his place of concealment, and met the servant carrying up a quantity of coals. Being questioned as to where he was going, he replied, in a hurried and confused manner, that he was going to mend his mistress's fire, which at three o'clock in the morning in the middle of summer was evidently impossible; and, on further investigation, a strong knife was found concealed beneath the coals.

Dreams, to whatever causes they may be attributed, vary according to the nature of our sleep: if it is sound and natural, they will seldom prevail; if, on the contrary, it be broken and uneasy, by a spontaneous association dreams will become fanciful, and might indeed be called visions, so fantastic and chimerical are all the objects that present themselves in motley groups to the disturbed mind. This derangement in the sensorium may be referred to various physical causes,--the sensations of heat or of cold, obstruction in the course of the circulation of the blood, as when lying upon the back, a difficult digestion. In a sound sleep our dreams are seldom remembered except in a vague manner; whereas, in a broken sleep, as Formey has observed, the impression of the dream remains upon the mind, and constitutes what this philosopher called "the lucidity of dreams." It not unfrequently happens to us that we have had a similar dream several times, or at least we labour under this impression; nay, many persons fancy that particular events of their life at the moment of their occurrence had clearly taken place at a former period either in reality or in a dream. Morning "winged dreams" are more easily remembered in their circumstantial vagaries than those of the preceding night, for at that period (the morning) our sleep is not sound, and dreams become more lucid. These revasseries, as the French call them, are admirably described by Dryden:

A dream o'ertook me at my waking hour This morn, and dreams they say are then divine, When all the balmy vapours are exhal'd, And some o'erpow'ring god continues sleep.

That we are more or less impressionable in our sleep is rendered evident by the facility with which even a sound sleeper is disturbed by the slightest noise: the sparkling of a fire, or the crackling produced by the wick of our night-lamp when coming into contact with the water in the glass, the sting of an insect, the slightest admission of a higher or lower temperature, will occasion a broken sleep and its dreams. It has been remarked that the sense of seeing is more frequently acted upon in dreams than that of hearing, and very seldom do we find our smell and taste under their influence. It is possible that this peculiarity may arise from the greater variety of impressions with which the sight is daily struck, and which memory communicates by association or retransmission. Next to feeling, vision is the first sense brought into relation with external objects. When we hear noises, explosions, tumultuous cries, it is more than probable that our dreams partake of a delirious and morbid nature, or of sensorial or intellectual hallucinations, in which the mind is actually diseased, and our perceptions become erroneous: then we speak loudly to others, and to ourselves. When these hallucinations prevail after sleep, the invasion of mania may be apprehended.

Cabanis, in his curious investigations on the mind, has endeavoured to fix the order in which the different parts of our organization go to sleep. First the legs and arms, then the muscles that support the head and back: the first sense that slumbers, according to his notions, is that of sight; then follow in regular succession the senses of taste, smell, hearing, and feeling. The viscera fall asleep one after the other, but with different decrees of soundness. If this doctrine be correct, we may easily conceive the wild and strange inconsistencies of our dreams, during which the waking and the sleeping organs are acting and reacting upon each other.

Corporeal sensations and different organic actions frequently attend our dreams; but these may be attributed to our mode of living, or the indulgence in certain unruly desires and conversations. That man and animals dream of the pursuits of the preceding day there can be no doubt: hence the line,

Et canis in somnis leporis vestigia latrat.

The effects of a heavy meal, more especially a supper, in disturbing our rest, was well known and recorded by ancient physicians: and Crato tells us "that the fittest time to repair to rest is two or three hours after supper, when the meat is then settled in the bottom of the stomach: and 'tis good to lie on the right side first, because at that side the liver doth rest under the stomach, not molesting any way, but heating him as a fire doth a kettle that is put to it. After the first sleep 'tis not amiss to lie upon the left side, that the meat may the better descend; and sometimes again on the belly, but never on the back."

Our ancestors had recourse to various devices to procure sound sleep. Borde recommends a good draught of strong drink before going to bed; Burton, a nutmeg and ale, with a good potation of muscadine with a toast; while Aetius recommends a sup of vinegar, which, according to Piso, "attenuat melancholiam et ad conciliandum somnum juvat." Oppression from repletion will occasion fearful dreams and the night-mare; and bodily sufferings, when exhaustion has brought on sleep, will also be attended with alarming and painful visions.

Levinus Lemnius recommended to sleep with the mouth shut, to promote a regular digestion by the exclusion of too much external air. The night-mare is admirably described in Dryden's translation of Virgil:

And as, when heavy sleep has closed the sight, The sickly fancy labours in the night, We seem to run, and, destitute of force, Our sinking limbs forsake us in the course: In vain we heave for breath; in vain we cry; The nerves, unbraced, their usual strength deny, And on the tongue the falt'ring accents die.

In the Runic theology it was regarded as a spectre of the night, which seized men in their sleep, and suddenly deprived them of speech and of motion. It was vulgarly called witch-riding, and considered as arising from the weight of fuliginous spirits incumbent on the breast.

Somnus ut sit levis, sit tibi coena brevis, is the ancient axiom of our distich,

That your sleep may be light, Let your supper be slight.

Notwithstanding this rule of health, it is nevertheless true that many persons sleep more soundly after a hearty supper; and, most unquestionably, dreams are more frequent towards morning than in the beginning of the night. In my opinion, I should apprehend that the sound sleep of supper-eaters is to be attributed to the narcotic nature of their potations, more than the meal, although the siesta of southern countries might be advanced in favour of a contrary opinion.

When philosophers speak of dreams being mental operations independent of the will, they speak vaguely, for the operations of the mind when we are awake are too frequently uncontrolled by volition. Did we possess this power over our rebellious thoughts, who would constantly ponder on a painful subject? Our thoughts cannot be suspended at will, and their influence has been beautifully described by Shakspeare:

My brain I'll prove the female to my soul, My soul the father; and these two beget A generation of still breeding thoughts.

Volition has no more power over thought when we are awake than sleeping; and, despite all metaphysical and psychological speculations, it cannot be demonstrated that the mind does not retain its full energies during sleep, only they cease to be regulated by judgment, and are not, to use Locke's words, under the rule and conduct of the understanding; and even on this opinion it has been fairly observed, that much of incongruity which is supposed to prove suspension of reason, and much of the wild discordancy of representation which appears to prevail during our sleep, may arise from the defect of memory when we are awake, that does not retain the impression of images which have passed across the mind in light and rapid succession, and which, therefore, exhibit but a partial and imperfect sketch of the picture that engaged the attention in sleep. The well-known fact that the impressions of our dreams are oftentimes more vivid and correct, when some time has elapsed, than on our awakening, tends to confirm this hypothesis; and these recollections are the more vivid when they bear any analogy to circumstances that come to pass.

Sir Thomas Brown was of opinion that sleep was the waking of the soul; the ligation of sense, but the liberty of reason; and that our waking conceptions do not match the fancies of our sleep. He thus expresses himself in his Religio Medici: "At my nativity my ascendant was the watery sign of Scorpius; I was born in the planetary hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of that leaden planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardise of company; yet in one dream I can compose a whole comedy, behold the action, apprehend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof. Were my memory as faithful as my reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my dreams, and this time also would I choose for my devotions; but our grosser memories have then so little hold of our abstracted understandings, that they forget the story, and can only relate to our awaked souls a confused and broken tale of that that hath passed."

Dreams have been considered as prescriptive in various diseases. Diodorus Siculus relates that a certain Scythian dreamed that Aesculapius had drawn the humours of his body to one place, or head, to have it lanced. When Galen had an inflammation of the diaphragm, we are told that he was directed in a dream to open a vein between the thumb and the fourth finger--an operation which restored him to health. Marcus Antoninus asserted that he learned in his dreams various remedies for spitting of blood. It is related of Sir Christopher Wren, that, when at Paris, in 1671, being disordered with "a pain in his reins," he sent for a physician, who prescribed blood-letting, but he deferred submitting to it, and dreamed that very night that he was in a place where palm-trees grew, and that a woman in a romantic habit offered dates to him. The next day he sent for dates, which cured him. Now, although this cure, brought about by a dream, was considered wonderful, its circumstances offer nothing supernatural. It is more than probable that Sir Christopher had frequently read in foreign works on medicine, that dates were recommended as an efficacious remedy in nephritic complaints; and, moreover, had met in his daily perambulations female quacks, who exhibit themselves to this day in the French metropolis, fantastically attired, and vending their far-famed nostrums. That he should have remembered dates, and that the phantasm of the she-mountebank might at the same time have struck his fancy, were two associations by no means improbable.

It is very likely that all the strange stories of prophetic dreams might be traced to a similar connexion of ideas. I have before observed that dreams do not always assume their complexion from recent occurrences, and our bodily sufferings during sleep bring to our recollection every circumstance that regards the malady. A patient who had a bottle of hot water placed at his feet dreamed that he was walking in great agony in the burning lava of Vesuvius. Similar associations exist when awake: the man whose arm has been amputated constantly refers the pain he experiences to the lost hand, or to that part of the limb which received the injury; and the very same nervous illusion prevails during his slumbers. A case is recorded of an officer who had lost his leg, and, when cold, felt comfort and warmth by wrapping the stump of his wooden leg in flannel.

In various diseases the nature and the period of the invasion of dreams afford a valuable ground of observation to the physician both in his diagnosis and prognosis of the case. In incipient hydro-thorax, for instance, dreams occur at the very moment the patient falls asleep, and he fancies himself suffocated by some impending and destructive weight. Diseases of the heart are accompanied by alarming dreams, from which the patient starts up in great terror. In children the perturbation of their sleep frequently indicates the seat of their sufferings; and the valuable researches on the nervous system by Charles Bell have enabled the medical attendant to read in the features of a sleeping infant whether the malady be in the head, the cavity of the chest, or the abdomen.

If proof were wanting that dreams arise from our waking thoughts, it might be found in the circumstance of those sleepers who divulge their secrets, and verify the lines of Shakspeare:

There are a kind of men so loose of soul, That in their sleep will mutter their affairs.

Reason, therefore, prompts us to reject the idea of dreams being preternatural suggestions. In general, we may consider them as a morbid excitement of the brain, arising either from moral or physical causes, and depending essentially on the condition of our mind and body. Our most lively hopes are ever linked with fears that prey upon us even when most secure; and these apprehensions, recurring in our dreams, prove too often prophetic of the very events we dreaded. The prejudices of early education shed around these forewarnings circumstantial incidents; and fear is the greatest ally of superstition.

If our visions by night are fraught with such singular circumstances, our "day dreams," or reveries, are frequently attended with strange associations. The impressions received during these ecstatic visions or trances will occasionally act so powerfully upon the mind, that during our waking hours and the usual pursuits of life we cannot divest ourselves of the existence of their reality.

Dr. Arnould has given the following curious account of a case of this kind, as narrated by the individual himself:--"One afternoon in the month of May, feeling himself a little unsettled and not inclined to business, he thought he would take a walk into the city to amuse his mind, and having strolled into St. Paul's Churchyard, he stopped at the shop window of Carrington and Bowles, and looked at the pictures, among which was one of the cathedral. He had not been long there before a short grave-looking elderly gentleman, dressed in dark brown clothes, came up and began to examine the prints, and occasionally casting a glance at him, very soon entered into conversation with him, and praising the view of St. Paul's which was exhibited at the window, told him many anecdotes of Sir Christopher Wren the architect, and asked him at the same time if he had ever ascended to the top of the dome. He replied in the negative. The stranger then inquired if he had dined, and proposed that they should go to an eating-house in the neighbourhood, adding that after dinner he would accompany him up St. Paul's. It was a glorious afternoon for a view, and he was so familiar with the place that he could point out every object worthy of attention. The kindness of the old gentleman's manner induced him to comply with the invitation, and they went to a tavern in some dark alley, the name of which he did not know. They dined and very soon left the table, and ascended to the ball just below the cross, which they entered alone.

"They had not been there many minutes, when, while he was gazing on the extensive prospect and delighted with the splendid scene below him, the grave gentleman pulled out from an inside coat-pocket something like a compass, having round the edge some curious figures; then having muttered some unintelligible words, he placed it in the centre of the ball. He felt a great trembling, and a sort of horror came over him, which was increased by his companion asking him if he should like to see any friend at a distance and to know what he was at that time doing, for if so, the latter could show him any such person. It happened that his father had been for a long time in bad health and for some weeks past he had not visited him. A sudden thought came into his mind, so powerful, that it overcame his terror, that he should like to see his father. He had no sooner expressed the wish than the exact person of his father was immediately presented to his sight in the mirror, reclining in his armchair and taking his afternoon sleep. Not having fully believed in the power of the stranger to make good his offer, he became overwhelmed with terror at the clearness and truth of the vision presented to him, and he entreated his mysterious companion that they might immediately descend, as he felt himself very ill. The request was complied with, and on parting under the portico of the northern entrance, the stranger said to him, 'Remember you are the slave of the man of the mirror.'"

He returned in the evening to his home, he does not know exactly at what hour; felt himself unquiet, depressed, gloomy, apprehensive, and haunted with thoughts of the stranger. For the last three months he has been conscious of the power of the latter over him. Dr. Arnould adds, "I inquired in what way his power was exercised? He cast on me a look of suspicion mingled with confidence, took my arm, and after leading me through two or three rooms and then into the garden, exclaimed, 'It is of no use--there is no concealment from him, for all places are alike open to him--he sees us--and he hears us now.' I asked him where the being was who saw us and heard us? He replied in a voice of deep agitation, 'Have I not told you that he lives in the ball below the cross on the top of St. Paul's, and that he only comes down to take a walk in the churchyard and get his dinner at the house in the dark alley. Since that fatal interview with the necromancer,' he continued, 'for such I believe him to be, he is continually dragging me before him in his mirror--he not only sees me every moment of the day, but he reads all my thoughts, and I have a dreadful consciousness that no action of my life is free from his inspection, and no place can afford me security from his power.' On my reply that the darkness of the night would afford him protection from these machinations, he said, 'I know what you mean, but you are quite mistaken--I have only told you of the mirror, but in some part of the building which he passed on coming away, he showed me what he called a great bell, and I heard sounds which came from it, and which went to it, sounds of laughter, and of anger, and of pain; there was a dreadful confusion of sounds, and I listened with wonder and affright'--he said, 'this is my organ of hearing; this great bell is in communication with all the other bells within the circle of hieroglyphics, by which every word spoken by those under my control is made audible to me.' Seeing me look surprised at him, he said, 'I have not yet told you all, for he practises his spells by hieroglyphics on walls and houses, and wields his power, like a detestable tyrant as he is, over the minds of those whom he has enchanted, and who are the objects of his constant spite within the circle of his hieroglyphics.' I asked him what these hieroglyphics were, and how he perceived them? He replied, 'Signs and symbols which you in your ignorance of their true meaning have taken for letters and words, and read, as you have thought, Day and Martin and Warren's blacking. Oh! that is all nonsense! they are only the mysterious characters which he places to mark the boundaries of his dominions, and by which he prevents all escape from his tremendous power. How I have toiled and laboured to get beyond the limits of his influence! Once I walked for three days and three nights, till I fell down under a wall exhausted by fatigue, and dropped asleep; but on awaking I saw the dreadful sign before my eyes, and I felt myself as completely under his infernal spell at the end as at the beginning of the journey.'"

Dr. Pritchard remarks on this singular case of insanity, that this gentleman had actually ascended to the top of St. Paul's, and that impressions there received being afterwards renewed in his mind when in a state of vivid excitement, in a dream or ecstatic revery, became so blended with the creation of fancy, as to form one mysterious vision, in which the true and the imaginary were afterwards inseparable.

It is also possible that this person, being of a nervous and susceptible disposition, had been struck, when on the dizzy height of the cupola, with a vertigo, or fit, during which these phantasms had struck him in so vivid a manner as to derange his intellects--the loud and terrific sound of the bell adding to the horror of his situation. It is well known that persons have recollected circumstances that occurred around them during an epileptic and an apoplectic attack. Our worthy visionary was for two years an inmate of a private asylum.

In regard to the verification of dreams, they may be easily accounted for by that proneness that most men, especially if of a weak and impressionable state of mind, experience in courting the object of their hopes or fears. Thus have the absurd prognostications of fortune-tellers been too frequently fatal, as we may work up our thoughts to such an intensity as to bring on the very death that we apprehend. Dr. Pritchard relates the case of a clergyman, in an indifferent state of health, who, when standing one day at the corner of a street, saw a funeral procession approaching him. He waited till it came near him, saw all the train pass him, with black nodding plumes, and read his own name on the coffin, which was carried by, and entered, with the whole procession, into the house where he resided. This was the commencement of an illness which put an end to his life in a few days.

During a severe fever, in the peninsula, my nightly rest was constantly disturbed by the threatening appearance of animals with fearful horns and antlers, incessantly hovering about me. For a long time after my recovery the spectral illusion continued, and every horse or mule that passed by me appeared to be armed with immense horns.

It is to be feared that, notwithstanding the ingenuity of the many physiologists who have sought to investigate the nature of dreams, we shall never come to any satisfactory conclusion, since we follow too frequently the example of the German philosopher, Lesage, who, in his endeavour to throw some light on this obscure subject, sought to ascertain the intermediate condition of the mind when passing from the waking state into sleep, a transition which never has been, and, most probably, never can be ascertained, since sleep, to a certain degree, is a suspension of all power of attention, perception, volition, and every spontaneous faculty.

ON FLAGELLATION.

Amongst the various moral and physical remedies introduced by the priesthood and physicians for the benefit of society, flagellation once held a most distinguished rank. As a remedy, it was supposed to reanimate the torpid circulation of the capillary or cutaneous vessels, to increase muscular energy, promote absorption, and favour the necessary secretions of our nature. No doubt, in many instances, its action as a revulsive may be beneficial; and urtication, or the stinging with nettles, has not unfrequently been prescribed with advantage. As a religious discipline, for such has this system of mortification been called, it has been considered as most acceptable to Heaven; so much so, indeed, that the fustigation was commensurate with the sinner's offence. Under the head of Daemonomania I have endeavoured to show that whipping was equally agreeable to the evil spirit, who delighted in flogging the elect.

It appears that at this period a belief prevailed that heavenly mercy restored the grace that had been forfeited, commuting for temporal punishment that which else would have been eternal. The monks of Fonte Avellana, for instance, had decreed that thirty psalms, said or sung, with an accompaniment of one hundred stripes to each psalm, would be considered as a set-off for one year of purgatory; and, by this calculation, the whole psalter, which would have demanded fifteen thousand stripes, would have procured a relief of five years from the fiery ordeal. It was no doubt under this impression that St. Dominic the Cuirassier, so named from his wearing, day and night, an iron cuirass next his skin, and which he never took off, adopted this same covering when, upon entering into priest's orders, his parents presented the bishop who ordained him with a rich fur garment, an offence for which the holy man wished to atone by donning an iron vestment.

This said madman belonged to the congregation of Fonte Avellana, the monks of which never touched either wine or oil, and, during five days of the week, lived upon bread and water; moreover, every day after service they flogged each other. Dominic, in extenuation of his family's offence in having presented his diocesan with a luxurious gown, lashed himself at the rate of ten psalters, and thirty thousand lashes per diem; by which he calculated that he was redeeming three thousand six hundred and fifty years of purgatorial torments per annum: but, in addition to this wholesome allowance, he humbly petitioned his superior to allow him, during Lent, a supplementary punishment of one hundred years, when his day's work was two psalters and a half, and thirty-four thousand five hundred lashes. This punishment did not seem sufficient in his eyes to propitiate the Creator; and St. Pietro Damiano informs us that, during the Lenten days, he actually recited the psalter two hundred times, with a crescendo accompaniment of sixty millions of stripes. It was on this occasion that Yepes shrewdly observed, that he marvelled less at a man's head being able to retain so many verses than that his arm was able to carry on such a flagellation; or, to use his own words, how his flesh, unless made of iron, could resist such a castigation. This blessed man must have been endowed with powers that were increased by exertion, since we find that his ambition gave him such energy, that once beginning his operations in the evening, and singing and flogging, and flogging and singing, con amore, through the day and night, at the expiration of twenty-four hours he had gone through the psalms twelve times, begun them a thirteenth time, and proceeded as far as Beati quorum, the thirty-second psalm; having inflicted upon himself one hundred and eighty-three thousand one hundred stripes, thereby reducing purgatorial stock to the amount of sixty-one years, twelve days, and thirty-three minutes, to a fraction.

It would be perfectly idle and absurd for any freethinker to doubt this fact, recorded by an eyewitness--Pietro Damiano, a saint, and moreover a cardinal; and Calmet himself maintains that no man should dare to doubt a saint's assertion, more especially when speaking of another beatified person. Notwithstanding this assertion, a stiff-necked arithmetician calculated that, if during these twenty-four hours the saint had given himself two blows every second, the number of lashes would only have amounted to one hundred and seventy-two thousand eight hundred, being ten thousand three hundred short of the amount stated! However, this difficulty was overcome by Father Castaniza, who makes up the amount by maintaining that he made use of cats with ten tails, and therefore had actually a balance in his favour in his winding-sheet.[28]

Ubi stimulus ibi affluxus, has been a physiological axiom since the days of Hippocrates; and flagellation thus employed is only a modification of blistering, or exciting the skin by any other irritating method. The moral influence of flagellation in the treatment of different diseases has been appreciated by the ancients: it was strongly recommended by the disciples of Asclepiades, by Caelius Aurelianus, and since by Rhasis and Valescus, in the treatment of mania. No doubt, the terror which this castigation inspires may tend materially to facilitate the management of the insane. To the present day this opinion has prevailed to a revolting degree, and it is no easy matter for the humane physician to convince a keeper of the cruelty or inutility of this practice. Seldom or never does this harsh management become necessary: I had charge of a military lunatic asylum for a considerable time, and, with one exception, never found myself warranted in causing corporal punishment to be inflicted, notwithstanding the association of ideas of discipline which such a chastisement must have produced amongst men then exposed to the capricious infliction of the lash. The case to which I allude was one of a Sergeant N--, who had twice attempted my life, and who fully remembered every circumstance in the remissions of his malady; so much so, indeed, that doubts were entertained in the minds of the casual visiter as to the real condition of his mental faculties; and in the establishment now under my superintendence a keeper is discharged when convicted of having struck a patient under any circumstances.

To return from this digression: the authoritative power of man over the brute creation is daily witnessed, even with unruly and ferocious animals; and there are, no doubt, cases where bodily punishment becomes indispensable, when the body will feel what the judgment cannot comprehend. Boerhaave relates the case of a hypochondriac who swore that his legs were made of straw; but an officious servant-maid, who was sweeping the room, struck him across the shins with her broomstick, and soon brought him to a sense of his erroneous impression.

Flagellation draws the circulation from the centre of our system to its periphery. It has been known in a fit of ague to dispel the cold stage. Galen had observed that horse-dealers were in the habit of bringing their horses into high condition by a moderate fustigation; and therefore recommended this practice to give embonpoint to the lean. Antonius Musa treated a sciatica of Octavius Augustus by this process. Elidaeus Paduanus recommends flagellation or urtication when the eruption of exanthematic diseases is slow in its development. Thomas Campanella records the case of a gentleman whose bowels could not be relieved without his having been previously whipped.

Irritation of the skin has been often observed to be productive of similar effects. The erotic irregularities of lepers is well authenticated; and various other cutaneous diseases, which procure the agreeable relief that scratching affords, have brought on the most pleasurable sensations. There exists a curious letter of Abelard to his Eloisa, in which he says, "Verbera quandoque dabat amor, non furor; gratia, non ira; quae omnium unguentorum suavitatem transcenderent."

This effect of flagellation may be easily referred to the powerful sympathy that exists between the nerves of the lower part of the spinal marrow and other organs. Artificial excitement appears in some degree natural: it is observed in various animals, especially in the feline tribe. Even snails plunge into each other a bony and prickly spur that arises from their throats, and which, like the sting of the wasp, frequently breaks off and is left in the wound.

In the monastic orders of both sexes, flagellation became a refined art. Flagellation was of two species, the upper and the lower; the upper inflicted upon the shoulders, the lower chiefly resorted to when females were to be fustigated. This mode was adopted, according to their assertions, from the accidents that might have happened in the upper flagellation, where the twisting lash might have injured the sensitive bosom. In addition to this device, nudity was also insisted upon. In the article Daemonomania I have recorded various abominations of the kind. Nor was it only amongst religious orders and their followers that this custom obtained. It was practised by ladies of high rank amongst their commensals and attendants. Brantome gives us a curious and quaint account of this amusing castigation. Mademoiselle de Limeuil, one of the queen's maids of honour, was flagellated for having written a pasquinade, in company with all the young ladies who had been privy to the composition. And on another occasion he tells us: "J'ai oui parler d'une grande dame de par le monde, voire grandissime, mariee et veuve, qui faisait depouiller ses dames et filles, je dis les plus belles, et se delectait fort a les voir, et puis elle les battait du plat de la main, avec de grandes clacquades et blamuses assez rudes; et les filles qui avaient delinque en quelque chose, avec de bonnes verges, et elle les clacquait ainsi selon le sujet qu'elles lui en donnaient, pour les faire ou rire ou pleurer."

The minions of Henry III. of France, and other princes, were decked in white robes, then stripped, and whipped in procession for the gratification of their royal masters. Not unfrequently the ladies themselves were the executioners in cases where any man had offended them; and the adventure of Clopinel the poet is worth relating. This unfortunate wight had written the following lines on the fair sex:

Toutes etes, serez, ou futes, De fait ou de volonte putes; Et qui bien vous chercherait Toutes putes vous trouverait.

This libellous effusion naturally excited the indignation of the ladies at court, who decided that Clopinel should be flagellated by the plaintiffs without mercy; and it is difficult to say to what extent they might have carried their vengeance but for a timely witticism of the culprit, who piteously addressing the angry yet beauteous group around him with uplifted arm and rod, humbly entreated that the first blow might be struck by the honourable damsel who felt herself the most aggrieved. It is needless to add that not a lash was inflicted.

Medical men were frequently consulted as to the adoption of the upper or lower discipline, as flagellation on the shoulders was said to injure the eyesight. It was from the fear of this accident that the lower discipline was generally adopted amongst nuns and female penitents, as appears by the following rule: "Quippe cum ea de causa capucini, multaeque moniales, virorum medicorum ac piorum hominum consilio, ascesim flagellandi sursum humeros reliquerint, ut sibi nates lumbosque strient asperatis virgis, ac nodosis funiculis conscribillent."

In a medical point of view, urtication, or stinging with nettles, is a practice not sufficiently appreciated. In many instances, especially in cases of paralysis, it is more efficacious than blistering or stimulating frictions. Its effects, although perhaps less permanent, are more general and diffused over the limb. This process has been found effectual in restoring heat to the lower extremities; and a case of obstinate lethargy was cured by Corvisart by repeated urtication of the whole body. During the action of the stimulus, the patient, who was a young man, would open his eyes and laugh, but sink again into profound sleep. His perfect cure, however, was obtained in three weeks.

ON LIFE AND THE BLOOD.

THE LIFE OF ALL FLESH IS THE BLOOD THEREOF. On this doctrine, expressed in the Mosaic books, many of the olden writers founded their hypothesis that blood was the principle of life. It is, however, more than probable that this opinion was derived from a more ancient ritual than the Levitical code, since we find a similar belief among the Parsees, Hindoos, and other Oriental nations of very remote antiquity, who no doubt owed the practice of abstaining from blood to the early patriarchs.

The Greeks and the Romans, if we take the expressions of their poets as being conclusive, entertained similar notions regarding the vital fluid; and the "purple death" of Homer and "the purple life" of Virgil, are phrases evidently applicable to this theory, which Critias, Empedocles, and their sects maintained. This opinion, however, does not appear to have dictated the expressions made use of by Moses. When he says "the life of all flesh is the blood thereof," it merely signifies that when the blood is abstracted death ensues; a circumstance that must have been daily and hourly observed. It is probable that this injunction was promulgated to check the barbarous custom of devouring raw meat, which seems to have prevailed long before the Jewish legislator. We read in Genesis ix. 4, "Flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall you not eat." From this circumstance we may infer that, like the Abyssinians of Bruce's time, the Jews were in the habit of tearing and cutting flesh from live animals. Saul's army was guilty of a similar practice. It therefore behoved their legislators to oppose a custom that increased the natural ferocity and cruelty of the nation they ruled.

This theory of the ancients has been frequently revived in modern times, and has not a little contributed to increase the mystery that veils the nature of our existence. Harvey, who discovered the circulation of the blood, was a convert to this doctrine; Hoffman also adopted it; and Huxham not only fully believed in it, but sought the immediate part of the blood that constituted life, and fancied that he had discovered it in its red particles. It was John Hunter, however, who first established the system on any thing like a rational basis, although his arguments on the subject have led to much doubt and illiberal controversy. "The difficulty," says he, "of conceiving that blood is endowed with life while circulating, arises merely from its being a fluid, and the mind not being accustomed to the idea of a living fluid. I shall endeavour," he continues, "to show that organization and life do not in the least depend upon each other; that organization may arise out of living parts and produce action; but that life can never arise out of or produce organization." The errors of this doctrine are obvious, and have led many ingenious physiologists into a maze of idle wandering. The fact is, that life is the instrument of organization, or, in other words, organization is the result of life. The embryo could not be developed, did not the fluid that animates it possess a principle of vitality which it communicates to a body previously organized. In this confusion the word "life" has sometimes been applied to the power, and at others to the result. Without organization, life cannot be transmitted; and the moment the principle of life ceases, a disorganization, more or less rapid, ensues.

The doctrine of the vitality of the blood has very lately been maintained by several physiologists. Professor Schultz speaks of an active vital process which can be seen constantly going on between the individual molecules of the blood and the substance of the vessels; but Muller asserts that, during ten years, he examined the circulation of the blood in various parts, at every opportunity and with different instruments, but had never seen what Schultz describes--the constant assimilation, disappearance, and new formation of the globules; nor had Rudolphi, Purkinje, Koch, and Meyer, been more successful in their investigation; and Muller further maintains that the motion of these red particles in the circulation is purely passive, which may be proved by compressing the vessels of the limb, or the limb itself.

Eber and Meyer pretended that these red particles were infusory animals. On this important and curious subject I shall quote Muller's opinion: "The question whether the blood be living fluid or not, calls to mind a critical state of our science. Every thing which evidences an action which cannot be explained by the laws of inorganic matter, is said to have an organic, or, what is the same thing, a vital property. To regard merely the solids of the body as living, is incorrect, for there are strictly no organic solids; in nearly all, water constitutes four-fifths of their weight. Although, then, organic matter generally be considered as merely 'susceptible of life,' and the organized parts as 'living,' yet the blood also must be regarded as endowed with life, for its action cannot be comprehended from chemical and physical laws. The semen is not merely a stimulus for the fructification of the egg, for it impregnates the eggs of the Batrachia and fishes out of the body; and the form, endowments, and even tendencies to disease, of the father, are transferred to the new individual. The semen, therefore, although a fluid, is evidently endowed with life, and is capable of imparting life to matter. The impregnable part of the egg, the germinal membrane, is a completely unorganized aggregation of animal matter; but, nevertheless, is animated with the whole organizing power of the future being, and is capable of imparting life to a new matter, although soft, and nearly allied to a fluid. The blood also evidences organic properties; it is attracted by living organs, which are acted upon by vital stimuli. There subsists between the blood and the organized parts a reciprocal vital action, in which the blood has as large a share as the organs in which it circulates."

This doctrine is, no doubt, ingenious, but I do not consider it as conclusive. It is not because that in inflammation, the blood becoming solid, forming pseudo membranes, which are shortly after supplied with a proportion of blood-vessels, blood possesses life. If this adventitious coagulation were not supplied with blood, it would prove a foreign body; but it is not, therefore, shown that the circumstance of its possessing vitality after its formation is a proof of the life of the blood; it only shows that the secretions of the blood are endowed with a susceptibility of life, when having assumed a solid form, needing vessels for its support. I shall not dwell longer on a professional question of great interest, but which would need a development foreign to the nature of these sketches.

The Greeks had distinct appellations for the cause and result of life; the former they termed [Greek: psyche] the latter [Greek: zoe]. The essential nature of life is, and most probably will ever remain, an impenetrable mystery. Living matter is endowed with a property which we call life; but to find out to what we may venture to attribute this property, is a vain and hypothetical attempt. Equally vain and absurd have been the endeavours to ascertain whether life began at the creation to be subsequently transmitted from parent to offspring, or owed its origin to a spontaneous generation from matter. Many ancient philosophers considered matter as eternal: such was the doctrine of the Pythagoreans; amongst whom we must particularly notice Lucanus Ocellus, whose system, developed in a work written in the Attic dialect, was adopted by Aristotle, Plato, and Philo-Judaeus. This work was first translated into Latin by Nogarola. These doctrines led to the unanswerable question, What was this matter--this invisa materia--from which every thing visible has proceeded? Has it existed from all eternity, or has it been called into being by the Creator? Has it uniformly exhibited its present harmonious arrangement, or was it once a waste and shapeless chaos? Was this matter endowed with intelligence as a whole, or in its separate fractions?

The eternity of matter was maintained by these philosophers from the belief that no thing could be created out of nothing, and that no thing could ever return to nonentity. Such was the doctrine of the Epicureans, of Democritus, and of Aristotle. The poets were of the same belief; and Lucretius expresses himself as follows:

Ubi viderimus nihil posse creari De nihilo, tune, quod sequimur, jam rectius inde Perspiciemus.

Persius maintains the same idea:

Gigni De nihilo nil, in nihilum nil posse reverti.

This dogma was no doubt transmitted to the Greeks from the East; and, to the present day, it is a doctrine of the Brahminical creed, clearly expressed in the following terms in their Yajur Veid: "The ignorant assert that the universe in the beginning did not exist in its author, and that it was created out of nothing. O ye, whose hearts are pure! how could something arise out of nothing?" The fathers of the church embraced a similar belief; and Justin Martin says that "the word of God formed the world out of unfashioned matter. This Moses distinctly asserts, Plato and his adherents maintain, and ourselves have been taught to believe."

Such was the doctrine of the schools that professed the eternal nature of matter. Other philosophers supported as warmly a different opinion. Thales of Miletus, Zeno of Citium, Xenocrates, and Dicearchus the Messenian, insisted that the human race had a first origin at a period when mankind did not exist. According to this hypothesis, the universe is an emanation or extension of the essence of the Creator. Zeno and the Stoics attribute this creation to the universal elements of fire and water. Anaximander the Milesian asserted that the primitive animals were formed of earth and water mixed together, heated and animated by the solar rays; these aquatic creatures became amphibious, and were gradually transformed into the human races. Strange to say, this extraordinary idea has found proselytes even in our days, and was advocated by Professor De Lamark in his Zoological Philosophy. This fancy pervades the poetry of the ancients. Homer makes Tethys, the wife of Ocean, the daughter of Uranus and Terra, the first parents; and Hesiod, in his Cosmogony, raises Venus and Proteus from the foam of the sea.

The vital and intellectual fire of the ancients that animated all living beings was admitted by most of their physicians, especially by Hippocrates, Galen, and Aretaeus. Aristotle describes an universal creative agent in all the elements, the source of life upon earth, and of the celestial movements in the firmament. Descartes, in modern times, maintained that a vital flame existed in the heart of every animal. This fire, and the genial warmth that it diffused, was considered the soul of the universe; and on this subject Gassendi expresses himself as follows: "Si quis velit talem calorem etiam animam dicere, nihil est similiter quod vetet."

It was natural for man, even in an uncivilized state, to attribute to solar heat the same influence on animals as was manifest in its actions upon plants. When life had fled, the inanimate corpse was cold, and caloric was therefore considered the principle of vitality. It was from this conviction that we find the sun and fire objects of adoration both in ancient times and amongst savages to the present day. Fire is idolized by the Tartars, and various African tribes. The Yakouts, a Siberian horde, believe that the deity of good and evil has taken his abode in this supposed element. The Columbian Indians were fire-worshippers; and Pallas informs us that the Chinese on the confines of Siberia held it in such religious respect, that they never attempted to extinguish it even when their dwellings were burning.

The doctrine of man and the universe having been created an emanation of the Creator, renders the Creator material, or matter itself; matter being considered intelligent, and susceptible of this organization. This was the belief of the Brahmins, and was no doubt transmitted to the Academic and Eleatic schools of Greece by Pythagoras. We find in the Yajur Veid, already alluded to, the following passages, that clearly demonstrate this belief: "The whole universe is the Creator, proceeds from the Creator, and returns to him. The ignorant assert that the universe in the beginning did not exist in its author, and that it was created out of nothing. O ye, whose hearts are pure! how could something arise out of nothing? This first being alone, and without likeness, was the ALL in the beginning. He could multiply himself under different forms. He created fire from his essence, which is light." And further: "Thou art Brahma! thou art Vishnu! thou art Kodra! thou art the moon! thou art substance! thou art Djam! thou art the earth! thou art the world!"

These Brahminical doctrines were, beyond doubt, also held by the Greeks. In a poem ascribed to the fabled Orpheus we find the following lines, translated by Mason Good with as much correctness as elegance:

Jove first exists, whose thunders roll above, Jove last, Jove midmost; all proceeds from Jove. Female is Jove--immortal Jove is male; Jove the broad earth--the heavens' irradiate pale. Jove is the boundless spirit, Jove the fire, That warms the world with feeling and desire; The sea is Jove, the sun, the lunar ball; Jove king supreme, the sovereign source of all. All power is his; to him all glory give, For his vast form embraces all that live.

It may be easily imagined that a subject so recondite and obscure must have led philosophers into the wildest speculations. By some, life was considered as the result of a general consent or harmony between the different organs of which the vital frame is formed; while, as we have seen, many have attributed its phenomena to the blood. That blood, to a certain extent, is endowed with vitality is beyond a doubt; Hunter has endeavoured to prove the fact by various experiments. It is capable of being acted upon and contracting like the solid fibres; this we daily witness when blood is coagulated and comes into contact with the atmosphere. It preserves an equality of temperature in whatever medium an animal may move. He also has shown that this fluid can form solid vessels of every description; and its life is also proved by the death inflicted when any excessive stimulus destroys the muscular fibre. Thus, in a body struck with lightning, the muscles remain flaccid and uncontracted, while the blood preserves its fluidity, and is left uncoagulated.

All this specious reasoning shows that blood is a living fluid, but does not in the slightest degree demonstrate to what principle this vitality is to be attributed. It merely proves that every part of a living animal, whether solid or fluid, is endowed with a certain degree of life; but leaves us in impenetrable darkness as to the nature of life. The one cannot be killed without the other; and, as Mason Good justly observes, "that which is at one time alive, and at another dead, cannot be life itself." It is clear that life cannot exist without blood, but at the same time it is equally evident that the blood is merely a secretion of the living system, and dependent upon the action of the solids, which influence its quantities and properties.[29]

It is from this notion of the vitality of the blood that the absurd idea of transfusing it was first conceived. Transfusion consisted in the injection of the arterial blood of young and healthy animals into the veins of the aged and the debilitated. It was about forty years after the discovery of the circulation of the blood by Harvey that this singular project was tried upon animals, and afterwards upon man. Medicated liquids had already been introduced in Germany into the system by this method, principally by Wahrendorf. Dr. Christopher Wren, an English physician, was the first who proposed the injection of blood, and Dr. Lower put it into practice. The result of his experiments seemed to warrant their adoption. An animal was drained of a considerable proportion of blood, and lay faint and expiring; but the blood of another animal being thrown into the languid system, active circulation was restored, and the patient ran about with as much facility as before the experiment. When too great a quantity of blood was injected, the creature became drowsy, and shortly after died of plethora.

These experiments were reported by the transfusers with many absurd details. In one case a simpleton had become witty by a supply of lamb's blood; in another, an old mangy cur was cured by the vital fluid of a young spaniel; a blind old dog, transfused by a Mr. Gayant, bounded and frisked about like a young pup. Dr. Blundel seriously conceived that this operation might be practised with great advantage in cases of haemorrhage, more especially in women.

Of late years these curious experiments have again been tried with singular results. Prevost and Dumas have shown that the vivifying power of the blood does not reside so much in the serum as in the red particles. An animal bled to syncope, is not revived by the injection of water or pure serum of a temperature of 68 deg. Fahrenheit into its vessels. But if blood of one of the same species is used, the animal seems to acquire fresh life at every stroke of the piston, and is at last restored. Diemenbach has confirmed these experiments. It is also stated by these physiologists, that revival takes place likewise when the blood injected had been previously deprived of its fibrin.

Another very singular fact has been elicited by these experiments; blood of animals of a different genus, of which the corpuscules, though of the same form, have a different size, effects an imperfect restoration, and the animal generally dies in six days.

The injection of blood with circular corpuscules into the vessels of a bird (in which the corpuscules are elliptic and of a larger size) produces violent symptoms similar to those of the strongest poisons, and generally death, which ensues indeed instantaneously, even when a small quantity only of the blood has been injected. Such, for example, was the effect of the transfusion of some blood of the sheep into the veins of a duck; while in many cases in which the blood of sheep and oxen were injected into the vessels of cats and rabbits, these animals were revived for a few days. The fact of the blood of mammalia being poisonous to birds is very remarkable; it cannot be explained mechanically. The injection of fluids containing globules of greater diameter than the capillary vessels of the injected animal most probably produces death, by obstructing the pulmonary vessels and producing suffocation; but the globules of the blood in mammalia are even smaller than those of birds. In Dieffenbach's experiments, pigeons were killed by a few drops only of the blood of mammalia, and the blood of fishes, it is asserted, is as fatal to mammalia as to birds.

These interesting facts have been confirmed by Dr. Bischoff. In all his experiments made with the fresh blood of mammalia, birds died within a few seconds after the transfusion, with violent symptoms resembling those of poisoning; but when, instead of the fresh unchanged blood, he injected blood from which the fibrin had been removed by stirring, and which was heated to a proper temperature, he was surprised to find that no such symptoms were produced, the animal not appearing to suffer any inconvenience.

It seems indeed from these experiments, that the blood of an animal of a different class, is not adapted for the operation.

When transfusion was first proposed in France, it met with furious opponents; and Lamartiniere declared that it was a barbarous operation proceeding from Satan's workshop. The controversy between the transfusers and their adversaries was at length carried on with such virulence, that in 1668 the practice was forbidden by a decree of the Chatelet, unless the operation had been sanctioned by the faculty of Paris. In Italy it continued to be in vogue. Riva and Manfredi frequently performed it; and a physician of the name of Simboldus submitted himself to the experiment. According to the accounts given by the patients who had been thus injected, they first experienced an increased heat with violent pulsation, profuse perspiration with pains in the loins and stomach, and a sense of suffocation. Violent vomiting frequently arose, and the patient gradually sank into a torpid and heavy sleep. Whatever may be the theoretical ingenuity in favour of this practice, it is not probable that it will ever be adopted.

While young blood was thus supposed to give fresh vigour to the aged, the heat communicated by young persons to debilitated bedfellows was also resorted to. This practice seems to have been founded on observation. It is an acknowledged fact that an uncommon depression of vital power takes place in the young when such experiments are tried. This abstraction of vital power is frequently observed in young females married to very old men. In illustration of this fact, Dr. Copeland relates the following case: "I was a few years since consulted about a pale, sickly, and thin boy of about five or six years of age. He appeared to have no specific ailment; but there was a slow and remarkable decline of flesh and strength, and of the energy of all the functions,--what his mother very aptly termed 'a gradual blight.' After inquiring into the history of the case, it came out that he had been a very robust and plethoric child up to his third year, when his grandmother, a very aged person, took him to sleep with her; that he soon afterwards lost his good looks, and that he had continued to decline progressively ever since, notwithstanding medical treatment. I directed him to sleep apart from his aged parent, and prescribed gentle tonics, change of air, &c., and the recovery was very rapid."

This selfish indulgence of the aged in endeavouring to deprive their young bedfellows of heat and strength has been often remarked; and young women thus circumstanced have shrewdly suspected the cause of their debilitated condition. It is extremely probable that in these cases electricity is conducted from one body to another. This hypothesis is in some degree confirmed by the experiments made upon Casper Hauser by Von Feuerbach. This Casper Hauser had been kept from infancy until he was eighteen years of age in a perfectly dark cage, without leaving it, and where he never saw a living creature or heard the voice of man. He was restricted from using his limbs, his voice, his hands, or senses; and his food consisted of bread and water only, which he found placed by him when wakening from his sleep. When exposed in Nuremberg, in 1828, he was consequently at eighteen years as if just come into the world, and as incapable of walking, discerning objects, or conveying his impressions, as a newly born infant. These faculties, however, he soon acquired; and he was placed under an able instructor, who has recorded his singular history. Darkness had been to him twilight. The light of day was at first insupportable, inflamed his eyes, and brought on spasms. Substances, the odour of which could not be perceived by others, produced severe effects upon him. The smell of a glass of wine, even at a distance, occasioned headache; of fresh meat, sickness; and of flowers, a painful sensation. Passing by a churchyard with Dr. Daumer, the smell of dead bodies, although altogether imperceptible to the doctor, affected the young man so powerfully as to occasion shudderings, followed by feverish heat, terminating in a violent perspiration. He retained a great aversion, owing to their disagreeable taste and smell, to all kinds of food excepting bread and water.

When the north pole of a small magnet was held towards him, he described a drawing sensation proceeding outwards from the epigastrium, and as if a current of air went from him. The south pole affected him less, and he said it blew upon him. Professor Daumer and Hermann made several experiments of the kind, calculated to deceive him, and, even although the magnet was held at a considerable distance from him, his feelings always told him very correctly. These experiments always occasioned perspiration and a feeling of indisposition. He could detect metals placed under oil-cloths, paper, &c. by the sensation they occasioned. He described these sensations as a drawing, accompanied with a chill, which ascended, according to the metal, more or less up the arm, and attended with other distinctive feelings, the veins of the hand exposed to the metal becoming visibly swollen.

The variety and multitude of objects which at once came rushing upon his attention when he thus suddenly came into existence, the unaccustomed impressions of light, free air, and sense, and his anxiety to comprehend them, were too much for his weak frame and acute senses: he became dejected and enfeebled, and his nervous system morbidly elevated. He was subject to spasms and tremors, so that partial exclusion from external excitements became for a time requisite. After he had learned regularly to eat meat, his mental activity was diminished; his eyes lost their brilliancy and expression; the intense application and activity of his mind gave way to absence or indifference, and the quickness of apprehension became diminished. It may be questioned whether this alteration proceeded from the change of diet, or the painful excess of excitement that had preceded it.

Among the various doctrines regarding the creation of animals, that of Panspermia was most ingenious and attractive. According to this theory, maintained by Anaxagoras and Heraclitus, all bodies contained the germ or the organic molecules necessary for their generation. Hippocrates favoured this idea, as plainly appears in his book de Diaeta; and in modern times Perrault, Gesik, Wollaston, Sturm, and other physiologists, have endeavoured to revive the doctrine, of which the organic molecules of Buffon and the living molecules of Ray were merely modifications. The expression in Genesis which sanctions the belief that the earth spontaneously germinated its productions, cannot be referred to the animal kingdom. Were this the case, similar animals would be found in every quarter of the globe. Spontaneous generation was also attributed to putrefaction; and Virgil describes the manner in which Aristaeus drew forth a swarm of bees from the corrupted entrails of a heifer. Pliny admits the spontaneous creation of rats, mice, frogs, and other small tribes of animals. These errors, however, were soon dispelled by the light thrown on the subject by the microscopic experiments of Valisneri, Swammerdam, Reaumur, and many other naturalists, who discovered sexual organs in all these supposed self-created individuals.

This doctrine was the foundation of the classification of the generative principle into equivocal and univocal generations,--the former the effect of putrefaction, but which in reality was univocal, since it was soon ascertained that this production arose from the incubation of numerous eggs deposited by various insects and animalculi in these corrupted bodies. The following experiment afforded a convincing proof of the fact: A piece of meat was placed in an open vessel, and another in a vase hermetically closed; so soon as these animal substances entered into decomposition, myriads of insects pullulated in the exposed meat, whereas that which was protected from external agency remained free from this invasion.

It is a recognised fact that it is only through organized beings that organization can be transmitted; for how can corrupt substances, dead and deprived of vitality, give life to any organized matter? Generation is life; putrescence is death. By a law of nature, generation may be said ultimately to destroy the generative powers; a striking illustration of mortality, since life is transmitted at the expense of our very existence, and many individuals in the catenation of organized beings perish the very moment that they have tended to perpetuate their race. Death advances with rapid strides in the very ratio of the energies of life; and the surest method to attain longevity is to be sparing in the exercise of our exhausting faculties.

Et quasi vitai lampada tradunt.

Latent or insensible life, such as that of the seeds of plants, or the animal enveloped in its egg, may last for a number of years, so long as they are able to germinate; here vitality is not worn out by relative life. Various species of the snail, the wheel-polybe, the tile-eel, and divers animalcules, have been kept apparently dead, and in the form of dried preparations, withered and hardened, for months and even years, but have afterwards been restored to life by the agency of warmth, moisture, and other stimulants. Snails have been thus reanimated after a lapse of fifteen years; and Bauer revived the Vibrio tritici, after an apparent death of five years and eight months, by merely soaking it in water. Adders have been found in hard winters not only completely frozen but absolutely brittle, yet have been restored to life when thawed. A shower of fragments of ice has fallen at Leicester, containing the horsehair eel, with the nuclei of a greater number. Colonel Wilks found eggs in the solid rocks of St. Helena susceptible of being hatched. The vitality in the seeds of plants is truly amazing; barley taken out of the bodies of mummies, Indian corn discovered in the tomb of a Peruvian Inca, and the bulb of an onion found in the hand of a mummy 3000 years old have been sown and have thriven luxuriantly. The most intense heat cannot destroy the vital property. The seeds of roasted apples, the kernels of baked prunes and boiled elder-berries have germinated. Sir John Herschel found that the Acacia Lophanta lived after having been steeped in boiling water for twelve hours, and Ludwig informs us that the seeds of a species of cedar only germinated after ebullition. Fresh-water shells have been found in the thermal waters of Gastein at a temperature of 117 deg., and Niebuhr found a conferva growing in water at 142 deg. Raspberry-seeds taken from the corpse of an ancient Briton, contemporaneous with the Druids, have produced fruit when recommitted to the earth.

Some have endeavoured to explain the resurrection of the dead by these natural phenomena; forgetting that in these instances no corruption or actual disorganization had taken place. Stahl expresses himself in the following words when defining life: "Life is formally nothing more than the preservation of the body in mixture, corruptible indeed, but without the occurrence of corruption;" and in Junker we find, "What we call life is opposite to putridity."

The next theory attributed the principle of life to a subtle gas or aura. This doctrine constituted one of the principles of the Epicurean philosophy, and was illustrated by Lucretius in his poem on the Nature of Things:

Nam penitus prorsum latet haec natura, subestque; Nec magis hac infra quidquam est in corpore nostro; Atque anima est animae proporro totius ipsa.

According to these notions, there existed a volatile principle that bore no specific name, but was diffused through every part of living bodies, more subtile than heat, air, or vapour. In later times this same gaseous agent received various appellations. Van Helmont designated it as the aura vitalis, while other philosophers called it the aura seminalis and the aura sanguinis. The archeus faber of Van Helmont, the astrum internum of Crollius, the principium energoumenon of Michael Alberti, the substantia energetica naturae of Glisson, may all be referred to this unseen but powerful agency. Hippocrates called it [Greek: physis], or nature, which he elsewhere denominates [Greek: enoronta]. It was also the [Greek: dynamis xotike] of Galen. This soul, or breath, or spirit, directed and preserved the whole economy; and Chrysippus asserts that it acted like salt upon pork.

Modern chemistry has sought this principle in specific agents. Caloric, or the matter of heat; oxygen, or the vital part of atmospheric air, first discovered by Priestley, and explained by Lavoisier; and finally, the fluid collected by the Voltaic trough, were then considered as the principle of life. The experiments of Professor Galvani of Bologna, in which he produced the phenomena of life many hours after death, induced many physiologists to maintain that the identity that existed in galvanic electricity and the nervous influence, proved that this aura was the creative agent in our economy.

The late experiments of Mr. Crosse seemed to show that insects were produced in silicate of potash under a long-continued action of voltaic electricity. Now whether this be really the case or not, it is grievous in the present enlightened age, to see these experiments and the assertions that resulted from them, denominated the work of atheism, and the labour of another Frankenstein!--I do not suppose for one moment that Mr. Crosse pretended to have discovered the power of imparting life, but merely of having developed a vital principle in substances supposed to be inorganic. Every experimentalist who thus develops the vital principle may be said to bestow life, without being exposed to the absurd charge of impiety.--The man who brings forth chickens from the incubation of eggs, instead of eating them; the physiologist who rots a piece of meat to develop myriads of living beings in the putrid nidus, might just as well be called an atheist.

While naturalists were thus groping in nature's dark labyrinth, endeavouring to account for the wonders of the natura naturans, that divinity of the Stoics that Lucan thus describes,

Superos quid quaerimus ultra? Jupiter est quodcumque vides, Jovis omnia plena,--

other wise men fancied that they had actually discovered the seat of life, which, according to their fanciful speculations, they had lodged in certain organs. The nervous system, the spinal marrow, the brain, the heart, were all and each of them considered in turn as the head-quarters of vitality; while the workshop of alimentation, or much-abused stomach, did not pass unnoticed and unhonoured. The heart of a turtle, and of some reptiles, has been seen contracting and dilating hours after its extraction from the body; the stomach has been excited into an action bearing some analogy to vomiting, when separated from the trunk; but all these curious phenomena, explained and accounted for (in some measure, at least) by physiology, do not tend to prove that any one organ, or any chain of organs, is possessed of separate vitality independent of the general principle of life. The brain, which has been regarded as the chief seat of this principle, is not always essential to life; for although man perishes, or at least his vital functions cease to act, when he is decapitated,[30] yet various birds and reptiles continue to live for hours and days after the head has been severed from the body, while we actually behold a regeneration of the head in the earth-worm. Moreover, we have upon record many cases of acephalous children, or born without any head; and anencephalous children who lived (for a short time, it is true) without any brains. Fontana removed the entire brain of a turtle, yet it lived six months, and walked about as before.

Sandiford had divided acephalous animals into three classes: the first, in which the head was wanting; the second, where other organs were also missing; and the third, where the foetus presented an unformed mass. In the acephalous twin described by Beclard, no liver, spleen, stomach, or oesophagus could be discovered, and the intestinal tube commenced at the superior extremity of the body. The infant had ten ribs on each side, and regular nerves arose from the spinal marrow. Although headless animals may not be gifted with intellectual faculties evident to our senses, yet they clearly live and feel. The zoophytes and polypes, without brains or heads, possess irritability and sensibility; they can seek their food, seize it, reject what is not edible, are susceptible of the powers of light and heat, can contract their fibres when touched or injured, and, in short, manifest various innate or instinctive powers. Gall has maintained that the passions resided in the brain, and, therefore, that brainless animals did not experience their influence. This is a bold assertion. Can he prove that worms, insects, zoophytes, that possess only what is called a ganglionic system, are strangers to instinctive fears and partialities? I apprehend that it will be found that passions belong to instinct much more than to our volition.

It is nevertheless true that animals may be killed by wounding the spinal marrow, by the process commonly called "pitting." This practice may be traced to high antiquity; and Livy informs us that when the Carthaginian troops were routed, Asdrubal ordered their unmanageable elephants to be destroyed by driving the point of a knife between the junction of the head and spine.

From these observations it will appear quite clear that life has no necessary connexion with sensation, although the latter cannot be experienced without the former. Vegetables are endowed with vitality; but we have no reason to suppose that they feel. It is also more than probable that, as the degree of intelligence decreases, the intensity of the corporeal feelings are also diminished. Did not this scale of sensibility exist, insects could not live under the supposed agonies that the entomologist daily inflicts. This supposition does not rest upon indefinite reasoning, for in our own race we observe that those parts which are gifted with a reproductive power are possessed of the smallest degrees of sensation; and the cuticle, the hair, the beard, and the nails will even grow after death. This fact may calm the apprehensions of those very humane persons who look upon experimental physiologists as very monsters of barbarity. Vaillant took out the intestines of a locust, and stuffed it with cotton, then fixed it down in his box with a pin, yet, five months after, the insect moved its feet and antennas. Spallanzani has shown that the snail can renew its head.

All this confusion in theories and wandering of the imagination have arisen from our confounding the vital principle, of which we know nothing, with the phenomena of sensation, for which patient and calm investigation may account. That there does exist a principle of life that animates, vivifies, and preserves all living bodies, until its powers cease, no one can deny; although to find out its nature is a vain pursuit, as idle as our endeavours to penetrate into the causes of causation. As Richerand observes, "its essence is not designed to preserve the aggregation of our constituent molecules, but to collect other molecules, which, by assimilating themselves to the organ that it vivifies, may replace those which daily losses carry off, and which are employed in repairing and augmenting them; the word vital principle is therefore not designed to express a distinct being, but denotes the totality of powers alone which animate living bodies, and distinguish them from inert matter, the totality of properties and laws which govern the animal economy."

Of all the doctrines upon this abstruse subject (of which I have noticed the principal ones), that of the pre-existence of an organic germ appears the most plausible, or at any rate the easiest to conceive. It was from this conviction that the ancients held as an axiomatic principle Omnia ex ovo. It is upon this theory that Buffon rested his organic molecules, and Ray his vital globules. The primitive lineaments of organization may be traced in the egg, even before it is fecundated. The embryo that we find in its involucra is soft, flexible, ready to receive the plastic impression of the vivifying secretion,--the fecundating agency that imparts existence and all its wondrous attributes, to the pre-existing ova, the ova subventanea. It does not appear that the first organ of the embryo which exhibits the living principle is the heart, hence denominated in the foetus the punctum saliens; the principle of life has probably organized every molecule of the animal long before this supposed fountain of vitality had been seen to flow. It is more likely that the nervous system has received the first impressions imparted by the fecundating secretion, which the ancients supposed to have been a direct emanation from the brain, and bearing in its vivifying molecules the life of every part of the being it was about to organize; thus Valescus: "Sperma hominibus descendit ex omni corporis humore, qui fit ex subtiliori natura. Habet autem hoc sperma nervos et venas proprias attrahentes se a toto corpore ad testiculos--a membris disconditur principalibus--a corde, epate, cerebro mittuntur spiritus, ex quibus resultat spiritus informativus, et non aliter nisi cum spermate--ergo ab iis principaliter sperma disconditur."

Such were the doctrines on this curious subject until the days of Fabricius d'Acquapendente and Harvey. Buffon, however, exerted all his eloquence to revive the theory. The following are the notions of this elegant writer, who unfortunately only studied natural history in books and cabinets. He maintains that there exist two sorts of matter,--the one living, the other dead: the first enjoying a permanent vitality; the second universally spread, passing from vegetables to animals through the channels of nutrition, and returning from animals to vegetables through the medium of putrefaction,--thus in a constant state of circulation to animate living beings. This vital matter exists in determined quantities in nature, and is composed of an infinity of organic molecules, primitive, living, active, incorruptible, and in relation, both as regards action and numbers, with the molecules of light, and enjoying an immutable existence, since the usual causes of destruction can only affect their adherence. It is these molecules which, being cast in regular moulds, constitute all the organized bodies that surround us. According to this doctrine, development and growth are only a change of form operated by the addition of organic molecules; nutrition, the preservation of this form by the accession of fresh molecules that replace those that are destroyed; generation, the combination of these particles; and death, their separation from cohesion and association.

This ingenious system is not dissimilar to that of Maupertuis, who thought that the mysteries of generation could be explained by the usual laws of elective attraction. Various were the physical, metaphysical, and moral batteries raised against this visionary fabric. One single fact was sufficient to overthrow it. We constantly see parents deficient in a limb, or misshapen, producing perfect offspring; if each part of the economy was to transmit to its progeniture molecules similar to itself, the child would naturally be visited with the imperfection of the parent.

Notwithstanding these fallacies, we cannot but admit that chemical and molecular attraction constitute the principle that harmonizes all organized bodies. Generation is simply a function of organization and life. Organized bodies alone can generate. The living only can impart life. Animals and plants transmit to their descendants their several properties; and the inheritance of organization departs with the vital spark. Life is the property of no one; it is a transmitted heir-loom that never perishes; it resembles a torch that communicates an eternal flame while consuming itself. Organized beings have justly been considered the fuel of the universal vital fire, and we all are the daily bread of that monstrous animal called the world. All are ingulfed in that vortex which Beccher has called the "circulus aeterni motus" Metempsychosis was simply an illustration of this fact recognised in all ages in the East, and taught in European schools by Pythagoras. Nothing perishes; and even combustion produces fresh combinations.

Poetical philosophy has considered Love as the source and arbiter of life, and the Venus Generatrix the fount of our existence. Lucretius recognises this power in the following lines:

Per te quoniam genus omne animantum Concipitur, visitque exortum lumina solis.

Then again,

Omnibus incutiens blandum per pectora amorem, Efficis ut cupide generatim saecia propagent.

Virey, a delightful French physiologist, seems to partake of this mythological opinion in the following passage: "L'amour est l'arbitre du monde organique; c'est lui qui debrouille le chaos de la matiere, et qui l'impregne de vie. Il ouvre et ferme a son gre les portes de l'existence a tous les etres que sa voix appelle du neant, et qu'il y replonge. L'attraction dans les matieres brutes est une sorte d'amour ou d'amitie analogue a celle qui reproduit des etres organises. Ainsi la faculte generative est un phenomene general dans l'univers; elle est representee par les attractions planetaires et chimiques dans les substances brutes, et par l'amour ou la vie dans les corps organises."

According to our amatory neighbours, the word ame, or soul, comes from amor and amare, and amare is derived from animare; hence animation and animal may be syllogistically referred to love.

I know not how far this etymological disquisition may illustrate the history of their enfans trouves, or our foundling hospitals, the inmates of which are generally uncommonly ill favoured by beauty. The offspring of the aforesaid Venus Generatrix must have been especially ungrateful; and if it be true that Julius Caesar was her son, he certainly exerted his best endeavours to depopulate his mother's territories.

OF THE HOMOEOPATHIC DOCTRINES.

It is a matter worthy of remark, that, while the doctrines of homoeopathy have fixed the attention and become the study of many learned and experienced medical men in various parts of Europe, England is the only country where it has only been noticed to draw forth the most opprobrious invectives. It is certainly true that no one but an ardent proselyte of the visionary Hahnemann could for one moment become the advocate of all his absurd ideas; yet, while we reject his errors, great and important truths beam from the chaotic clouds that shroud his wanderings; and, however wild his theories may be, incontrovertible facts have been elicited from his apparently inefficacious practice.

Before I enter into an examination of the practical views of the homoeopathists, I shall give a brief sketch of their doctrines and of their founder.

Samuel Hahnemann was born in Meissen in Saxony, on the 10th of April, 1755. His father was an humble porcelain manufacturer. The first rudiments of education that young Hahnemann received were gratuitous; and his master, pleased with the progress of his ambitious but needy scholar, strongly urged him to repair to Leipzig, where, at the age of twenty, he arrived, with exactly the same number of crowns in his pocket as he numbered years. At this university he zealously pursued his favourite studies of the natural sciences, supporting himself by translating French works, and giving lessons; and finally he graduated in the university of Eslan--in 1779.

It was during his arduous studies that Hahnemann was struck with the conflicting systems and the deplorable controversies which for centuries divided in turn the medical schools of Europe, and were triumphant or overthrown by scholastic revolutions; each doctrine being doomed to obscurity and oblivion in the ratio of its ephemeral splendour. The result of his reflections and experiments was the system of homoeopathy. Its novelty, its apparent absurdity, soon exposed him not only to opposition, but to violent persecution. As is usual in all cases of oppression, whether justly or unjustly resorted to, proselytes as furious and as fanatical as his persecutors joined their chief. Despite the sanatary regulations of Saxony, which prohibited physicians from dispensing their medicines, Hahnemann prepared and supplied his homoeopathic remedies; and, being expelled from Leipzig, sought a refuge at Koethen, where, exasperated by the harsh treatment he had experienced, he fulminated his anathema on all past and present systems of medicine with no small degree of furious resentment, pronouncing his doctrine to be stamped with the seal of infallibility, and denouncing all others as the aberrations of ignorance and error, or the speculations of imposture and fraud.

As might have been expected, few of his opponents thought it worth their while to study his system calmly and dispassionately; nor, indeed, was such an application necessary, for his doctrines needed no deep investigation on the part of his foes, so fraught were they with apparent errors and false deductions, not only from his own pretended experience, but the experience of ages. Finding that he could not enjoy a despotic sway over the schools, he was resolved at any rate to seek the palm of martyrdom, and had recourse to such violence in words and actions, that many of his enemies maintained he was a more fitting subject for a lunatic asylum than the soi-disant founder of a rational doctrine; for he and his fanatical disciples set all ratiocination at nought, considering his dixit as a fiat of condemnation passed on all who dared to doubt his infallibility, although at different periods their oracle was obliged to retract many erroneous assertions and contradict fallacious statements.

In the short view of his doctrines which I am about to give, these fallacies will become evident.

Hahnemann had observed in his studies and hospital practice that the prevalent systems of medicine were founded on the rational principle of combating effects by striking at morbid causes. Physicians sometimes endeavoured to attain this desirable end by producing in the system an artificial action differing from the nature of the malady, and founded their practice on the scholastic axiom of contraria contrariis curantur; at other times they raised or depressed the vital energies according to the prevalence of excitement or debility, or modified the character of the disease by revulsion and derivation, a practice which received the name of antagonistic, or allopathic,--a term used by Hahnemann in contradistinction to homoeopathy, and derived from [Greek: allos], different, and [Greek: pathos], affection.

In his therapeutic pursuits Hahnemann had been forcibly struck with the long-acknowledged fact that medicinal substances supposed to possess a certain specific property in the treatment of diseases, were known in the healthy subject to produce phenomena bearing a close analogy to the symptoms of those identical diseases. Thus, mercurial preparations occasioned symptoms of syphilis, sulphur produced cutaneous irritation, and, in some instances, the exhibition of cinchona had been known to bring on febrile intermissions. In various works he found these observations established. For instance, amongst many others, he found in the publications of Beddoes, Scott, Blair, and various writers, that nitric acid, which was known to produce ptyalism, relieved salivation and ulceration in the mouth. Arsenic, which, according to Henreich, Knape, and Heinze, occasioned cancerous anomalies in healthy subjects, was stated by Fallopius, Bernharde, Roennow, and many other surgeons, to be efficacious in relieving, if not curing, similar disorders; preparations of copper were asserted by Tondi, Ramsay, Lazermi, and numerous practitioners, to have produced epileptic attacks; and Batty, Baumes, Cullen, Duncan, and several experienced medical practitioners, recommended similar remedies in epilepsy. In short, the illustrations of the power inherent in certain substances to produce accidents analogous to the symptoms of the various diseases in the treatment of which they had proved efficacious, induced Hahnemann to consider whether a treatment founded on similia similibus curantur might not be found more effectual than the former practice based upon the contraria contrariis. He was of opinion that no medicine was possessed of any curative property, but solely acted by its morbific power of producing a disordered condition in the system; and on this and other principles, which we shall shortly notice, he asserts that nature does not possess any curative power, totally denying the vis medicatrix of the schools. He further maintained, that there does not exist any specific malady; but that which we consider to be a disease is nothing but a complexity of symptoms, and that a cure can only be effected when these complex symptoms are made to disappear.

Impressed with these ideas, he and his disciples proceeded to try various medicinal substances upon themselves and others when in health, and, carefully recording the symptoms which these medicines produced, they drew up a statement of their various powers, that they might be afterwards resorted to, to relieve the same symptoms in a morbid state. Grounding this practice on the principle (in many instances correct) that two similar diseases cannot coexist, they conceived that if, to counteract a natural malady, one can produce by any medication an artificial derangement of the same nature, the artificial disorder will overcome the natural disease, and a radical cure be obtained. To explain more distinctly this idea, I shall quote the author's words.

"The curative power of medicines is thus founded on the property they possess to give rise to symptoms similar to those of the disease, but of a more intense power. Hence no disease can be overcome or cured in a certain, radical, rapid, and lasting manner, but through the means of a medicine capable of provoking a group of symptoms similar to those of the disease, and at the same time possessed of a superior energetic power."[31] And further,

"If two dissimilar maladies happen to be coexisting, possessed of an unequal force, or if the oldest disease is more energetic than the recent one, the latter will be expelled by the former. Thus, an individual labouring under a severe chronic disease will not be subject to the invasion of an autumnal dysentery, or any other slight epidemic. Larrey affirms that the districts of Egypt in which scurvy was prevalent were exempt from the plague. Jenner asserts that rachitis prevents the effect of vaccination; and Hildebrand assures us that phthysical patients never experience epidemic fevers unless of the most severe character."[32]

"If a recent affection, dissimilar to a more ancient one be more powerful than the latter, then will the progress of the latter be suspended until the malady is either cured or has been expended in its career, and then the old one will reappear."[33]

"But the result is totally different when two similar diseases meet in the organism; that is to say, when a pre-existing affection is complicated with one of the same nature, but possessed of more energy."[34]

"Two maladies resembling each other in their manifestation and their effects, that is to say, in the symptoms which they determine, mutually destroy each other, the strongest conquering the weakest."[35]

He further contends that the essential nature of every disease is unknown; that their existence is revealed by alterations and changes in the system perceptible to our senses, and constituting what are called symptoms, and it is the series of these symptoms which characterize the disease in its course and its development. According to his notions, the physician has only to follow and study the succession and the grouping of these symptoms; in short, the phases and the phenomena of diseases. Attack and destroy these symptoms, and you will have destroyed the malady.

All classification of diseases, and their various denominations, he therefore deemed absurd, as, according to his doctrines, no one disease resembles another; so various were their modifications, that, with few exceptions, it was idle to give them a particular name, since disease was simply a derangement in our organization manifested by peculiar symptoms.

We are also, according to Hahnemann, ignorant of the essential properties of medicines, and can only observe and record their effects by experimental observation. Like diseases, they also produce a derangement in our organism, manifested by peculiar symptoms, their sole action consisting in developing specific diseases.

In conformity with these notions, to cure disease we have only to produce a similar affection; the primitive one would then give way to the secondary affection artificially produced, and in time the artificial one would cease to exist when the means that produced it were no longer brought into action.

Homoeopathic medicines, he maintained, have the property of acting in a direct manner upon the affected part of the system; and this is proved when the disease, and the medicine given to relieve it, produce similar morbid manifestations: and he further contended that our vital organism was less susceptible of the action of natural affections than of those which are artificially produced.

On this basis did the homoeopathic doctrinarians ground their practice; but a still more singular theory was broached by their leader; he maintained that medicinal substances, to prove efficacious, should be administered in an attenuated and diluted state, carried to such an extent as to become infinite in their division; he further asserts that this infinite division, far from diminishing their medicinal power and properties, imparts greater energy and certainty of action when these particles encounter in our organization an affinity of disposition, or a homogeny in action; that is to say, that these atomic attenuations act with greater power in those affections which manifest symptoms similar to those which these very medicines are known to produce when experimentally tried upon a healthy subject.

Upon this principle the homoeopathist condemns all combinations of medicines as likely to neutralize each other's properties by their various affinities; therefore generally speaking, no fresh medicine should be given until the effects of the former have subsided; and to guide this practice, while they endeavoured to ascertain the symptoms produced by medicines, they also sought to ascribe certain limits to the duration of their action: thus, the influence of aconite lasts forty-eight hours, and that of crude antimony fifteen days.

Dreading all substances that could tend to weaken or neutralize the effect of medicine, the homoeopathists made it their particular study to discover the peculiar action of all alimentary substances on the organism, and characterized as antidotes all such articles of food as they considered opposed to this supposed action: thus, wine and vegetable acids were deemed antidotes to aconite; coffee, to Angustura bark; vinegar, to asarum, &c.

I have already stated that the homoeopathists conceive that the infinite dilution of their atoms of medicinal substances increase their energy; and this fact they so strenuously maintain, that they assert that accidents of a serious nature may arise when this division is carried too far; and these accidents are then to be met with the medicinal antidotes they pretend to have discovered: thus, camphor is an antidote to cocculus; opium, to the crocus sativus; camomile and camphor, to ignatia amara; and so on.

The minuteness with which the specific actions of various medicinal substances on certain organs is detailed is scarcely credible; and the following extract from the homoeopathic materia medica will give a slight idea of their industrious labours. Taking as an example phosphorus, which they affirm produces--

Vertigo, determination of blood to the head, headache in the morning, fall of the hair, difficulty in opening the eyelids, burning sensation and ulceration of the internal canthus of the eye, when exposed to the open air, lachrymation and adhesion of the palpebrae; inflammation of the eyes, with the sensation of particles of sand having been introduced; sparks and spangles floating before the eyes, a dark tinge in objects that are looked on, diurnal cecity, the appearance of a gray veil drawn before the eyes, pulsation in the ears, epistaxis, mucous discharge from the nostrils, foulness of breath, tumefaction of the throat, whiteness of the tongue, ulceration of the mouth, expectoration of glairy mucus, dryness of the mouth by night and by day, spasmodic eructation, nausea, sense of hunger after eating, anxiety after meals; in short, twenty-four octavo pages are devoted to the innumerable effects of this substance on the organism.

Of magnesia artificialis three hundred and twelve symptoms are noted; six hundred and fifty of the rhus radicans; nine hundred and forty of pulsatilla; five hundred of ignatia amara; four hundred and sixty of arsenic: in short, volumes upon volumes are crowded with these observations, not only recording physical effects, but singular results on our moral faculties; such as serenity or moroseness, gaiety or sadness, a disposition to commit suicide or a fond partiality to life, courage or cowardice, a weak intellect or a vigorous conception. For instance,--common sea-salt occasions irascibility, lowness of spirits, taciturnity, melancholy, palpitation of heart, disposition to shed tears, pusillanimity, and despair; while potash gives rise to ill-temper without apparent cause at noon and in the evening, with violent paroxysms of rage in the morning, impetuous desires, furious passion, with gnashing of teeth, if all around does not yield to the patient's desires; while the vision of a bird hovering about the window produces loud shrieks of alarm, exaltation of the intellects, and a horror of the future. So innumerable, indeed, are all these singular effects attributed to various medicines thus experimented, that no memory, however retentive, could possibly bear them in recollection. The following are the directions laid down for conducting this curious inquiry:

The person upon whom medicines are tried must be free from disease; but weak substances should be given to subjects of a delicate and sensitive constitution. The medicine is to be tried in its most pure and simple state, possessing all its energies, taking special care that it is not combined with any heterogeneous substances during the day it is exhibited, and the time while its action is supposed to last. The diet must be moderate; all spices and high-seasoned food to be avoided, as well as green vegetables, roots, salads, &c. which are known to possess medicinal properties. The dose of the medicine to be similar to that which is usually prescribed by practitioners. If, at the expiration of about two hours, no effect is observed, a stronger dose is to be given. Should the first dose operate powerfully at the commencement, but gradually lose its influence, the second will be given the following morning; and a still stronger one, four times the strength of the first, be administered on the third day.

The result of these experiments being recorded, homoeopathic agents are selected to oppose morbid symptoms; and when the choice of remedies has been appropriate, an aggravation of the symptoms is observed. This aggravation is usually considered as an increase of the disorder, whereas it is solely the effect of the homoeopathic remedy. "For these phenomena," say the homoeopathists, "were frequently observed by physicians, who little thought at the time, that they were the result of the medicines they had given." Thus, when the pustules of itch became more rife after the exhibition of sulphur, it was thought that the increase of the eruption was merely the affection coming out more freely; whereas, the aggravation was occasioned by sulphur. Leroy informs us that the heart's-ease, viola tricolor, increased an eruption in the face. Lyrons says that elm-bark aggravated cutaneous affections, which were cured by this remedy; but neither of them were aware of the nature of this homoeopathic development. For further information on this head, the Organon of Hahnemann must be consulted.

Such were his doctrines for a period of about twenty years,--doctrines which he emphatically pronounced infallible, and founded on the immutable laws of homoeopathy. In 1828, however, convinced by numerous failures in the treatment of chronic diseases, that other causes than those which he acknowledged,--such as the improper preparation of the medicine, or dietetic neglect on the part of the patient,--contributed to these disappointments, he announced that he had discovered the hidden source of the obstacles he encountered; and that, after many years of experiments and meditation, he had come to the conclusion that almost all chronic diseases originated from constitutional miasmatic affections or predispositions, which he divided into sycosis, syphilis, and psora, or, in plain English, the itch. To this latter affection he attributes innumerable disorders. In diseases of a syphilitic character, he had found his mode of treatment infallible; and he therefore concluded that all obstinate and rebellious affections were the result of some other constitutional predisposing circumstances. He tells us that he laboured in profound secrecy to discover this great, this sublime desideratum: his very pupils knew it not; the world was to remain in ignorance of his pursuits until he could proclaim the most inestimable gift that Divinity bestowed upon mankind. This immortal discovery was neither more nor less than the itch; to which malady, according to his views, since the days of Moses, seven-eighths of the physical and moral miseries to which flesh is heir, were to be referred. Whether rendered evident by eruptions, or latent from our cradle, it was a curse transmitted to us, by the modification and degeneration of leprosy, through myriads of constitutions, and which only disappears from the surface to fester in malignity until it bursts forth again in the multifarious forms of innumerable diseases, amongst which we find scrofula, rachitis, phthisis, hysteria, hypochondriasis, dropsy, hydrocephalus, haemorrhage, fistula, diseases of the head and liver, ruptures, cataracts, tic-douloureux, deafness, erysipelas, cancers, aneurisms, rheumatism, gout, apoplexy, epilepsy, palsy, convulsions, stone, St. Vitus's dance, nervous affections of every description, loss of sight, of smell, of taste, stupidity and imbecility.[36] In support of this doctrine, Hahnemann adduces ninety-five cases recorded by medical writers, in which the disappearance of the itch was followed by various acute and chronic maladies.

The next miasmatic generator is sycosis, or the disposition to warty excrescences; but this source of disease Hahnemann does not consider so prolific as syphilis, or his favourite psora.

Such are the principal features of the homoeopathic system. I have already stated that its followers consider the most minute particles of medicine more powerful than larger doses; they therefore have recourse to infinite trituration or dilution in three vehicles which they consider free from any medicinal property,--distilled water, spirits of wine, and sugar of milk; by these means they procure a decillionth or a quintillionth fraction of a grain. One drop of their solution is considered sufficient to saturate three hundred globules of sugar of milk; and three or four of these globules are deemed a powerful medicine. To give a better idea of Hahnemann's notions on this subject, I shall quote his own words:

"By shaking a drop of medicinal liquid with one hundred drops of alcohol once, that is to say, by taking the phial in the hand which contains the whole, and imparting to it a rapid motion by a single stroke of the arm descending, I shall then obtain an exact mixture of them; but two or three, or ten such movements, would develop the medicinal virtues still further, making them more potent, and their action on the nerves much more penetrating. In the extenuation of powders, when it is requisite to mix one grain of a medicinal substance in one hundred grains of sugar of milk, it ought to be rubbed down with force during one hour only, in order that the power of the medicine may not be carried to too great an extent; medicinal substances acquiring at each division or dilution a new degree of power, as the rubbing or shaking they undergo develops that inherent virtue in medicines which was unknown until my time, and which is so energetic, that latterly I have been forced by experience to reduce the number of shakes to two."

As a further illustration of this theory, he affirms that gold is without any action in our organism in its natural state; but that when one grain of this metal is triturated according to the above process until each grain of the last triturated preparation contains a quadrillionth part of the original grain of the mineral, it will be so powerful that it will be sufficient to place this single grain in a phial, to be inspired for a moment, to produce the most amazing results, and none more so than the faculty of restoring to a melancholy individual, disposed to commit suicide, his pristine partiality to life.

Unfortunately for Hahnemann, many of these assertions are unsupported by facts or sound reasoning, and appear mere wanderings of an ardent imagination; and thus soaring in regions of fancy, he himself has struck many fatal blows to his own doctrines. For instance, what are the arguments he adduces to prove that in two similar diseases the strongest will overcome the weakest?

"Why," he exclaims, "does the splendid Jupiter disappear during the twilight of morn to the eyes of the contemplator? It is because a similar power, but possessed of greater energies, the breaking day, acts upon our organs."

This is a defective analogy. Hahnemann tells us that a stronger power banishes a weaker one in a permanent manner, whereas the bright planet he here alludes to will return with the night. Then again:--

"With what do we endeavour to relieve the olfactory nerves when offended by disagreeable odours? By snuff, which affects the nostrils in a similar but in a more powerful manner." This is not correct: when the action of snuff has ceased, the disagreeable effluvia become again offensive. In some instances his poetical vagaries are preposterous. "By what means," he adds, "do we endeavour to protect the ears of the compassionate from the lamentations of the poor wretched soldier condemned to be scourged? Is it not by the shrill notes of the fife united to the loud beat of the drum? How do we endeavour to drown the roar of distant artillery that causes terror in the heart of the soldier? By the roll of the double drum;--nor would this feeling of compassion, this sense of terror, have been checked by admonition or by splendid rewards. In the same manner our grief, our regret, subside, upon receiving the intelligence, true or false, that a more lively sorrow has affected another person." It would be idle to dwell upon the absurdity of such visions and erroneous statements.

To support his doctrines, Hahnemann should have proved, 1st, that medicinal powers do produce an artificial malady similar to the natural affection; 2nd, that the organism only remains under the influence of the medicinal disease; 3rd, that this medicinal disease is of short duration; and 4th, that all these effects can only be produced by a medicine selected according to their similarity of symptoms. Our theorist has utterly failed in his endeavours to establish these facts; therefore have his doctrines been impugned by many of his most zealous disciples, amongst whom may be mentioned Griesselich, Rau, Schroen. The aggravation which he asserts takes place after the exhibition of a homoeopathic medicine is not only unsupported by proof, but positively denied by many of their practitioners; and Hartman plainly affirms that, after a homoeopathic dose, the patient frequently experiences a state of calm, a disposition to slumber, and often falls into a profound sleep more or less prolonged, in waking from which he finds himself much relieved, if not perfectly cured. Thus several physicians who have adopted his practical views reject many of the doctrines on which they are founded; and a homoeopathist has justly compared his works to a wild virgin forest, in which we meet with a number of valuable trees and plants in the midst of arid brushwood and parasitic weeds that would check the growth of the most useful productions.

Yet, notwithstanding the many gratuitous assertions, and consequent erroneous inductions, we meet with in the Organon, it is probable that this system is destined to operate a gradual but material revolution in the practice of medicine. As to theories, we must agree with Voltaire when he said "En fait de systeme, il faut toujours se reserver le droit de rire le lendemain de ses idees de la veille."

Hippocrates laid down in his Aphorisms the incontrovertible fact, "Duobus doloribus simul obortis, non tandem eadem in parte, vehementior alterum obscurat. A. 46." To a certain degree, it was upon this assertion, which the experience of ages has confirmed, that Hahnemann founded the principal and most important point of his doctrine; but, going much farther than the father of medicine, he affirms that similar diseases effectually remove each other. For centuries practitioners have been acting homoeopathically; the exhibition of specifics, in fact, being nothing else. As we have already shown, specifics are known to produce symptoms similar to the diseases they cure. Hitherto the number of such medicines has been confined to a very few agents; and perhaps with the exception of mercury, sulphur, and bark, with their several preparations, scarcely any article in the materia medica could have claimed this peculiar property. To extend these limits, which confined in so exiguous a compass our therapeutic agents, has been the laborious and singular study of Hahnemann and his disciples. Haller had first given the example, and they arduously applied themselves to discover by experiments on the healthy subject, both upon their own persons and others, what were the peculiar effects or symptoms produced by various medicinal substances. These observations are so numerous and confused, that, on reading them, we feel plunged in a chaotic labyrinth of symptoms, without any clue to extricate ourselves from its perplexing mazes. Still, from this multifarious catalogue much important information can be collected; and it cannot be denied that the homoeopathist has not only thrown a new light on the action of many medicines which we daily prescribe, but brought into practical consideration the necessity of attending to dietetic discipline, by an investigation of the several properties of our usual ingesta.

It is obvious that any enthusiast who would blindly embrace the foregoing doctrines without serious and deep investigation, and boldly apply the wild theory to practice, would at once throw open the flood-gates of absurdity, and lend his aid in destroying, if possible, with one fell swoop, the result of ages of mature study and experience. Hahnemann, to fertilize the fields of science, had recourse to inundation instead of wise and cautious irrigation; and the fury with which he and his rash disciples maintained their opinions materially tended to retard their progress. Truth needeth not violence; its own lustre will beam through surrounding darkness, without being dragged into light.

The objections to Hahnemann's doctrines are glaring. The art of healing, from the dawn of science until the present day, has been more or less founded on the faculties of reasoning. We are taught, in the first instance, to observe carefully the phenomena of disease, and, by referring effects to probable causes, endeavour, however difficult the task, to trace their catenation. Many of these causes are perhaps sealed for ever in the inscrutable book of our destinies; yet, if we cannot obtain a knowledge of the origin of these disorders, still when we take into mature consideration the complication of all accidental circumstances, and from visible effects seek invisible relations, guided by our experience in anatomy, physiology, and the revelations of pathology, we may find this pursuit less difficult than it may be imagined. But the homoeopathist despises and rejects as idle, all those collateral means of diving into nature's arcana. He bids us dwell only upon evident symptoms, or, in other words, look to the effects alone, and cast away all thoughts of discovering their causes. Nothing can be more illogical than this argument; for certainly we can scarcely hope to remove effects without striking, as far as in our power lies, at their cause. To deny the existence of any specific affection because we cannot account for its origin, is absurd. As well might we reject the use of medicines known to possess specific properties, from our utter ignorance of their modus operandi. The exclusive consideration of symptoms would lead us into lamentable error, since the same symptoms are observable in various diseases. Similar pains, for instance, may be the symptoms of rheumatism, nephritic affections, and calculus; headaches may arise from inflammation, and from various and well-known sympathies with distant organs: yet, without seeking to ascertain these relations, the mechanical and empirical homoeopathist will prescribe such medicines as are known to occasion pains in the loins, or headaches; only bearing in mind perceptible derangements, heedless of the phenomena of organization, the state of the secretions and excretions, the history, the rise and progress of the disorder, or the idiosyncrasy of the patient. The liver is diseased; the discovery is of no importance. We have only to attend to the pain extending up the clavicle and shoulder, or the uneasiness experienced in the right hypochondrium: the pulse, the respiration, the condition of the excretions, the temperature of the skin, the appearance of the tongue, are all regarded as minor considerations. It is not hepatitis that we are called upon to cure; it is to relieve a pain in the shoulder and in the hypochondrium, or a difficulty of lying on the left side.

No one will pretend to deny that our safest, perhaps our sole, guide in the study of disease is the group of symptoms, that become more and more perceptible during the course of our investigations. It was principally on the study of symptoms that the most learned practitioners of every age and country grounded their diagnosis and their prognosis; but they never viewed them either singly, or in their complexity, as unconnected with the particular diseases to which they were not only essentially united, but from which they originated, and of the existence of which they were to be considered the diagnostic signs. Therefore did the ancients classify them as principal and accessory, univocal and equivocal, characteristic or common, as they afforded more or less information in our pathological deduction; and in that light they were weighed with greater or less application, as our judgment could only be formed by the attentive consideration of the phenomena of the organism in health and in disease.

But while the homoeopathist's attention is chiefly directed to the discovery of means that can enable him to produce symptoms analogous to those of the disorder, he seems to disregard the laws of sympathy, by which our organism appears to be ruled; a mysterious agency which can only be ascertained by observation and experiment, when, to use the words of a distinguished writer,[37] "by the former we may be said to listen to nature, by the latter to interrogate her." Health depends upon the due co-operation of all these associations; and one organ in the wonderful machinery cannot be deranged in its functions without influencing others, however distant and unconnected they may appear. In this co-ordination, these vital relations have been very properly divided into mechanical, functional, and sympathetic. Their study constitutes the groundwork of all rational induction. It is not by individual or complex symptoms that we can decide where the want of equilibrium is to be traced. Various have been the theories on this most important subject, and great have been the erroneous ideas dogmatically laid down. The illustrious Bichat himself erred when he maintained that sympathies were aberrations--morbid developments of our vital properties. Sympathies, on the contrary, may be considered as constant phenomena, essential and inseparable from our organism, whether in health or in sickness; and are, if I may be pardoned the expression, co-ordinated to co-operate with each other in their mechanical, their functional, and their sympathetic associations.

An incarcerated hernia causes hiccup, nausea, vomiting. Will the homoeopathist tell us that we must seek in his catalogue of innumerable effects some substance which is known to produce similar symptoms? Surely the rupture must first call our attention. This example is adduced as referring to nearly every case in which it might be rashly attempted to separate causes from effects. The mammary glands are variously affected in uterine diseases; their impressions are reciprocal, yet the uterine affection must be the chief object of our solicitude. A peculiar pruritus is a symptom of calculus. Are we then to administer a homoeopathic dose of cannabis, or any other medicine which may give rise to a similar sensation? It may be objected to this observation that these are purely surgical cases, in which we need not be guided by symptoms to discover causes; but it has too frequently happened that nausea and vomiting have been attended to, while the hernia was overlooked, until fatal accidents were manifested. Moreover, a diseased liver, a diseased spleen or kidney, would be just as perceptible as hernia or calculus, if these parts could be brought into view or contact.

It may be said that an erroneous notion of Hahnemann's doctrines on this subject has been taken; it is therefore necessary to quote his own words:

"It may be easily conceived that the existence of a malady presupposes some alteration in the interior of the human organism; but our understanding can only lead us to suspect this alteration in a vague and deceitful manner, from the appearance of the morbid symptoms, the sole guide we can depend on except in surgical cases. The essence of the internal and invisible change is undiscoverable, nor have we any means of guarding against deceptive illusions."[38]

"The invisible substance that has undergone a morbid alteration in the interior of the human body, and the perceptible changes, which are externally developed,--in other words, symptoms,--form by their union what is called disease; but the symptoms are the only points of the malady which are accessible to the physician, the sole indication whence he can derive any intuitive notion, and the principal objects with which he ought to become acquainted to effect a cure. From this incontestable truth there is nothing discoverable in disease beyond the totality of its symptoms to guide us in the selection of our curative means."[39]

It is not to be supposed that an experienced physician, although a homoeopathist, will rest satisfied with this study of symptomatic medicine, without endeavouring to attach these effects to some cause, however occult it may appear; but such a doctrine becomes pernicious, since it bids us close the only book of truth that can reveal our errors,--post mortem investigations. Surely, if a group of certain symptoms attend a disease which, when terminating fatally, shows disorganization in certain viscera, we are not only justifiable in giving to that disorganization a specific name in our scientific classification and categories, but in considering the symptoms of no other importance than as corroborative of those facts that morbid anatomy daily brings to light.

It is generally admitted that most nosologies are imperfect, and may occasionally lead the young practitioner into error. This is easily accounted for when we consider the Protean forms that the same disease assumes in different individuals; yet, without this classification, the science of medicine could not be studied. A certain arrangement is necessary to simplify all our pursuits in natural science, and to seek a variety we must know the order and the genus.

Had Hahnemann given a better system of nosology than those we possess, and with his truly praiseworthy zeal and industry enumerated the various symptoms of disease as minutely and as accurately as he has recorded the effects of medicinal substances, his labours might have proved a most valuable addition to our store of knowledge.

Let us now direct our attention to the absurdities to which these opinions have led. Solely attentive to effects, and heedless of the disorganization of various important parts of the human economy which morbid anatomy detects, Hahnemann endeavours to discover the occult causes--the original source--the germ--of the malady, which most likely are beyond the reach of our researches; and he boldly affirms that all chronic diseases spring from syphilis, a disposition to warts and the itch. Now experience has proved that such an assumption is unfounded. The most healthy subjects, those who attain the finest old age, are more liable to this disgusting affection than the wealthy and cleanly part of the community. The Irish and Scotch peasantry from their infancy, and through life, are most subject to psora; and certainly our soldiers and sailors, amongst whom the disease is common, are not more predisposed to chronic diseases than any other classes of society, of course not taking into consideration the effects of unhealthy climates.

Syphilis, it will be readily granted, has a considerable share in producing anomalous sequelae, more especially when in combination with mercury. Warts, except of a syphilitic character, were never known to germinate diseases; indeed, they affect the most healthy and robust individuals. Yet to these three miasmatic causes does Hahnemann attribute nearly every disease that was ever known to afflict mankind; while he passes over in silence the predisposition to scrofula, gout, rheumatism, to which we can unfortunately trace with too much certainty the source of much human misery.

That the itch is a disease of great antiquity is a matter of doubt. It has been maintained that it is the same eruptive disorder described by Celsus under the appellation of scabies; yet this writer does not allude to its contagious nature, and moreover says, that in some cases it disappears completely, whereas in others it is renewed at certain periods of the year.

Celsus, moreover, includes other forms of pustular eruptions among the different species of scabies, not sufficiently distinguishing them from each other. The character of his scabies is more analogous to the lichen agrius of Willan.

Nor did the ancients consider their psora as our itch. It appears to have been the scaly tetter, which they sometimes denominated psoriasis, at others lepra, a synonymous affection; but neither pustular nor vesicular. Leprosy, indeed, is a malady totally distinct from the itch in all its characters. Hahnemann asserts that the species of leprosy that afflicted the Jews, and which is described by their legislator in the 13th chapter of Leviticus, was the itch; but any one who will peruse this description will perceive that it does not bear the slightest resemblance to that disorder. It appears, on the contrary, to have been that kind of leprosy called leuce by the ancients. Nor was leprosy constantly attended with itching, one of the chief characteristics of the malady, and from which sensation it derives its very name. Hippocrates mentions a leprosy that usually occasioned a prurience before rain. There are no diseases in the classification of which more obscurity exists than in cutaneous affections; and Hahnemann's ideas would tend to increase this confusion, since he tells us that he considers the framboesia of America, the sibbens of Norway, the pellagra of Lombardy, the plica of Poland, the pseudo-syphilis of the English, and the asthenia Virginiensis of Virginia, complications of his three miasmatic principles; and he further informs us, no doubt on the faith of some idle tradition, that psora lost its external deformity on the return of the Crusaders, who brought from the Holy Land the use of linen shirts, a cleanly and salutary precaution that eradicated the disease at a period when France had no less than two thousand hospitals for the reception of itch patients,--a plain proof that he confounds leprosy with itch, since the hospitals he alludes to were distinctly considered leper-houses.

It is certainly true that there does exist in our system a constant predisposition to eruptive affections of some kind or other. We are born heirs to certain exanthematic affections, such as the measles and smallpox; and it would be as difficult to find a being morally immaculate as an individual free from speck or blemish. Many of these eruptions are considered of a critical and salutary nature; and the ancients fancied that nature relieved herself by throwing upon the surface some "peccant humours." Hence their dread of the retrocession of any of these "breakings out;" and there is no doubt but that accidents frequently followed their sudden disappearance, in the same manner as drying up an issue or a blister established for some time, and become habitual, may occasion internal mischief; but to maintain that all chronic diseases arise from three eruptive principles is a most gratuitous and untenable assertion.

Enthusiastically anxious to support his doctrines, Hahnemann is frequently led into erroneous assertions. Thus he tells us that life will suddenly cease if a little water, or the mildest liquid, is injected into a vein; whereas experience has proved, in the treatment of cholera, and various other instances, that the most stimulating solutions may be thus introduced, not only with impunity, but with salutary results.

It is needless to enter more deeply into the ungracious business of pointing out errors, many of which were evident to Hahnemann himself; since, not only in the several editions of his Organon, but in various paragraphs in the same volume, he contradicts himself.

A much more gratifying and important task is now undertaken, to prove, by the evidence of facts, supported by practical reasoning, that the art of healing is more indebted to the homoeopathic doctrines than to any system that has hitherto been delivered in our schools.

That the all-bountiful Creator, in permitting, for purposes unknown to us, mankind to be visited by so many scourges, has also scattered around us means to counteract these evils, cannot be a matter of doubt. Instinct leads animals to find out these salutary agents, and various specifics have been discovered by man. The rudest savage is in possession of curative substances unknown to civilized man, and performs cures where learning and experience have proved of no avail.

To extend the limits of specifics, must therefore be considered a most desirable step towards adding to our means of relieving disease; and in this pursuit it is impossible to bestow too much praise on the homoeopathic observer. Enthusiasm--predilection to a favourite but persecuted system--may induce an ardent proselyte not only to deceive others, but unwittingly to deceive himself. It is therefore not only possible, but probable, that in the experimental investigations of the effects of medicine, Fancy, in her multifarious colours, may have depicted, with apparent fidelity, a state of body and mind that only existed in an excited imagination; but when we behold various individuals, distant from each other, and totally unconnected, observing similar results from the exhibition of various medicinal substances, we have no right to call their assertions into doubt. These assertions, moreover, are not laid down dogmatically, but are earnestly recommended to be submitted to the test of experiment. For instance, the homoeopathist has found out that certain substances, by diminishing the energy of the heart and arteries, subdue inflammatory action as effectually as venesection. This is a fact daily witnessed, and of which any practitioner may convince himself. It is not asserted, that in cases of sudden determination of blood, which require immediate revulsion and abstraction of the vital fluid, homoeopathic remedies will be found possessed of sufficient activity to afford prompt relief; but experience has fully proved that in cases which can admit of a few hours' delay, these medicines very frequently supersede the necessity of debilitating the patient by a copious loss of blood.

Dr. Paris, in his admirable work on Materia Medica, has justly observed, "that observation or experiment upon the effects of medicine is liable to a thousand fallacies, unless it be carefully repeated under the various circumstances of health and disease, in different climates, and on different constitutions." This has been the main object of the homoeopathist; and a further quotation from the above distinguished writer will illustrate the importance of their labours. "It is impossible to cast our eyes over such multiplied groups (of medicinal substances) without being forcibly struck with the palpable absurdity of some, the disgusting and loathsome nature of others, the total want of activity in many, and the uncertain and precarious reputation of all, without feeling an eager curiosity to inquire, from the combination of what causes it can have happened that substances at one period in the highest esteem, and of generally acknowledged utility, have fallen into total neglect and disrepute. That such fluctuation in opinion and versatility in practice should have produced, even in the most candid and learned observer, an unfavourable impression with regard to the general efficacy of medicines can hardly excite our astonishment, much less our indignation; nor can we be surprised to find that another portion of mankind has at once arraigned physic as a fallacious art, or derided it as a composition of error and fraud. A late foreign writer, impressed with this sentiment, has given the following flattering definition of our profession: Physic is the art of amusing the patient, while Nature cures his disease."

With such a lamentable view of the practice of medicine, can we be too thankful to those observers who strenuously endeavour to rescue it from the dark trammels in which prejudice and interested motives have bound it? In no country more than in Great Britain is such an investigation desirable. We have become proverbial from our incessant abuse of a farrago of medicinal substances; and what is usually termed an elegant prescription signifies an amalgam of various drugs and preparations, which most probably, by their affinities, neutralize the expected effects of each other; for, however great and flattering may have been the discoveries of modern chemistry, many of these affinities are unknown to us. Surely when our labours cannot detect any difference in the component parts of the purest Alpine atmosphere and the deleterious air of a loathsome dungeon, we cannot expect to form a correct idea of pharmaceutic combinations.

The mere hopes of being able to relieve society from the curse of constant drugging, should lead us to hail with gratitude the homoeopathist's investigations. That many physicians, but especially apothecaries, who live by overwhelming their patients with useless and too frequently pernicious medicines, will warmly, nay furiously inveigh against any innovation of the kind, must be expected as the natural result of interested apprehension; and any man who aims at simplicity in practice will be denounced as guilty of medical heresy. Have we not seen inoculation and vaccination branded with the most opprobrious epithets, merely because their introduction tended to diminish professional lucre?

In these remarks upon medicinal combinations, it is not meant to infer, that, because they are chemically incompatible, they are ineffectual,--experience has proved the contrary; but no one will contend that, if we can attain the same beneficial results from a single ingredient, administered in small quantities and at distant periods, as from the exhibition of repeated and nauseous doses of pills, powders, draughts, potions, &c. which hang over the bed of sickness, nay, of slight derangements, like the sword of Damocles, we have not effected a most salutary reform in the practice of physic. It is related of one of these ingenious and industrious practitioners, that, having seen a prescription, that only contained half a dozen medicines, he exclaimed, "What! nothing more?" To which the prescriber replied, "If you choose, sir, we'll step over to the apothecary, and see what else he has in his shop."

Specifics may be divided into two classes; the one producing a peculiar effect upon particular organs, the other producing general results. Thus, the action of cantharides and digitalis on the urinary system, of emetics on the stomach, of certain purgatives on the small intestines, and of others on the large ones, are generally known; whereas the action of mercury and opium is still a matter of controversy. A study of these effects constitutes the chief object of the homoeopathist; and, having determined their peculiar action, these medicinal agents are given singly, and, as we have already observed, in the most minute doses.

It is this division into infinite fractions that has drawn upon the homoeopathic practice the denunciation of the allopathic physicians, as it is considered utterly impossible that such imponderable particles can produce any beneficial or prejudicial effect; and the Academy of Medicine of Paris, when officially condemning the doctrine, asserts, in support of this argument, that great danger arises from it "in frequent and serious cases of disease, where the physician may do as much injury, and cause no less mischief, by ineffectual means as by those which are prejudicial."

This is perhaps one of the most important points of the homoeopathic doctrine. If these fractional doses are inert, and yet the disease is cured, then must the successful treatment be solely ascribed to the dietetic regimen and the efforts of nature. However, experience has afforded abundant proofs that these infinite atoms do produce positive and evident effects. What appears to our feeble organs an atomic fraction may produce phenomena on the organism which we cannot comprehend, but should not therefore be denied. Let one grain of iodine be dissolved in one thousand five hundred and sixty grains of water, the solution will be limpid; let two grains of starch be dissolved in two ounces of water and added to the first solution, and the liquor will forthwith assume a blue tint. In this experiment the grain of iodine has been divided into 1/15360. Dissolve the four-hundredth part of one grain of arsenic in four hundred thousand parts of water, and the hydric-sulphite will bring it into evidence. Let a five-thousandth part of arseniate of ammonia be dissolved in five hundred thousand parts of water, and the addition of the smallest proportion of nitrate of silver will obtain a yellow precipitate. Numerous experiments of a similar nature may be daily resorted to, to prove that the most minute particles of two substances possessed of chemical affinities may be brought into action, although diluted ad infinitum. But the power that the smallest particle possesses in producing natural phenomena cannot be more evidently proved than by Spallanzani's experiments in fecundation. This physiologist having wrapped up a male frog in oil-silk, fecundation could not take place; but having collected on the point of a camel-hair pencil a particle of the fecundising fluid, he succeeded in vivifying thousands of eggs. Surprised at this result, he dissolved three grains of the secretion in a pound of water, and one globule of the solution was endowed with the same faculty. In this case the globule of water only contained 1/2994687500 part of one grain. This curious experiment has been tried with a similar result by Prevost and Dumas. How imponderable and impalpable must be the effluvium which enables the dog to track his master for miles! the particle of atter of roses that perfumes a whole chest of clothes! and what must the power of the aroma be which is preserved for thousands of years in some Egyptian mummies! Would the vulgar believe in the wonders of the solar and gaseous microscopes unless they were exposed to view? In these we behold in amazement myriads of individuals in one drop of fluid, each of them as perfect in organization as the mighty mammoth of old or the sagacious elephant of our days, endowed with distinct habits, destructive and reproductive propensities and faculties.

It has been advanced by the opponents of homoeopathy that the insignificant dose of three or four medicinal globules cannot possess any power, since one might swallow a thousand of them with impunity. To this it is answered, that it is only under certain morbid conditions that these medicines act by their homoeopathic affinities. Moreover, it is well known that small doses of medicinal substances will frequently produce more powerful effects than larger quantities. Tartar-emetic, sugar of lead, calomel, afford daily instances of this fact; and it is also admitted that many substances act differently upon the healthy or the sick. An individual in health can take any food without apprehension; but when his functions are deranged, the slightest imprudence in regimen may lead to serious consequences. There are primordial and inscrutable peculiarities in our constitution that cannot be accounted for; and the medicine which relieves one patient will aggravate the sufferings of others. The exhalations of the American rhus are deadly to some persons, but innocuous to others; and many poisons which cause instantaneous death to some animals may be given with safety to others. Whence has arisen the controversy regarding damp sheets, which many maintain are not dangerous, simply from the fact that a healthy person with a vigorous circulation may sleep in them with impunity, when a feeble and languid subject will be exposed to some dangerous determination of blood?

A learned writer already quoted thus expresses himself on this matter:[40] "The virtues of medicines cannot be fairly nor beneficially ascertained by trying their effects on sound subjects, because the peculiar morbid condition which they are calculated to remove does not exist." It may be said that this observation militates against the homoeopathic experiments, and to a certain extent it evidently does; but it cannot be inferred that because a medicinal substance will occasionally act differently in health and in disease, that it may not frequently operate in a similar manner when the morbid condition does prevail, since it is generally admitted that medicines act in a relative manner according to the state of the system. Hence classifications of medicines are too frequently erroneous and imperfect. The doses of medicines determine their effects. Linnaeus says, "Medicines differ from poisons, not in their nature, but in their dose;" and Pliny tells its aphoristically, "Ubi virus, ibi virtus." According to their doses, medicines will produce a general or a local effect; and Dr. Paris, whom I feel much gratification in quoting, lays down as a rule that "substances perfectly inert and useless in one dose may prove in another active and valuable." It would be foreign to my purpose to enter more fully into this most important subject; but the cases which shall be adduced will be deemed sufficient to convince the most incredulous, of the power of homoeopathic doses.

Those who have denied this property have boldly attributed homoeopathic cures to dietetic means. Admitting this statement by way of argument, surely, if any observer, by ascertaining the peculiar action of our ingesta, can so regulate the regimen as to produce salutary effects without the aid of medicine, mankind would be most essentially benefited. How many persons do we not daily meet with, who have never taken any medicine since their childhood, when maternal care strove to destroy their digestive organs with apothecary's stuff, and who regulate their functions by mere attention to their mode of living. I know one gentleman, a physician, who relieves constipation by green chilies; another, with cold milk; a third, with warm milk: in some habits spinach and sorrel will act as a powerful and safe aperient; in others, cheese, or a hard egg, will operate in a contrary way. Fermented and spirituous liquors all possess specific properties. Some gouty persons cannot drink Claret without bringing on a paroxysm, and others dread a glass of Champagne or Burgundy. Nay, different wines have been known to bring on arthritic attacks in particular parts; and I have known Champagne to produce gout in the wrist, and Burgundy in the knee, in subjects who under other circumstances never experienced the disorder in those articulations. Our peculiar aversion, nay, our dread, of various alimentary substances are well known. The odour of cheese, of strawberries, have occasioned fainting and convulsions; and in certain constitutions, several articles of diet bring on indigestion. In short, the study of our ingesta is one of the greatest importance; and here again the homoeopathist is entitled to our best thanks.

This investigation will moreover prompt physicians to be more attentive in inquiring into the various effects of alimentary and medicinal substances on their patients. Instead of hastily drawing out routine prescriptions for such and such a disorder, they will accurately ascertain the physical and moral condition of the subject, taking into due consideration previous habits, predispositions, and pursuits in life. Indeed, it would be desirable that practitioners followed the example of army medical men, who keep an exact register of every individual they attend, and in which is diligently recorded every circumstance connected with the disease and its treatment.

Moral influence has also been called into aid in opposition to this practice, and cures have been attributed to the mere power of fancy and credulity. We have certainly known superstition and mental imbecility to be productive both of good and evil,--to have created some maladies, and cured others; but homoeopathy has succeeded when the patient was unaware of the treatment to which he was submitted. But, conceding the point, and admitting that inert substances, such as starch, (and this experiment was resorted to in Paris,) may have obtained singular beneficial results,--the results of a weak imagination, this circumstance alone would be illustrative of the power of moral agency; and who would not gladly wish for a mental relief in lieu of a nauseating and injurious course of medicine?

Others will exclaim, although the homoeopathist disavows the vis medicatrix naturae, that he solely succeeds by leaving the malady to the salutary efforts of the constitution. Here again we must admit, that, were we to leave many diseases to run their course, we might be more successful in obtaining a cure than by a rash and detrimental interference, founded on the principle that a physician "must order something."

But the facts I am about to record,--facts which induced me, from having been one of the warmest opponents of this system, to investigate carefully and dispassionately its practical points,--will effectually contradict all these assertions regarding the inefficacy of the homoeopathic doses, the influence of diet, or the agency of the mind; for in the following cases in no one instance could such influences be brought into action. They were (with scarcely any exception) experiments made without the patient's knowledge, and where no time was allowed for any particular regimen. They may, moreover, be conscientiously relied upon, since they were made with a view to prove the fallacy of the homoeopathic practice. Their result, as may be perceived by the foregoing observations, by no means rendered me a convert to the absurdities of the doctrine, but fully convinced me by the most incontestable facts that the introduction of fractional doses will soon banish the farrago of nostrums that are now exhibited to the manifest prejudice both of the health and the purse of the sufferer.

CASE I.

A servant-maid received a blow of a stone upon the head. Severe headache, with dizziness and dimness of sight, followed. Various means were resorted to; but general blood-letting could alone relieve the distressing symptoms, local bleeding not having been found of any avail. The relief, however, was not of long duration, and the distressing accidents recurred periodically, when abstraction of blood became indispensable. Reduced by these frequent evacuations, I was resolved to try the boasted "bleeding globules" of the homoeopathist, when, to my great surprise, I obtained the same mitigation of symptoms which the loss of from twelve to sixteen ounces of blood had previously accomplished. Since the first experiment no venesection became necessary, and the returns of the violent headache were invariably relieved by the same means.

CASE II.

An elderly woman was subject to excruciating headache, with an evident determination of blood to the brain. Numerous leeches were constantly applied. The usual remedies indicated in similar affections were resorted to, but only afforded temporary relief. A homoeopathic dose of aconite was given, and the relief that followed was beyond all possible expectation.

CASE III.

My much-esteemed friend Dr. Grateloup of Bordeaux was subject to frequent sore-throats, which were only relieved by local blood-letting, cataplasms, &c., but generally lasted several days, during which deglutition became most difficult. I persuaded him to try a dose of the belladonna, neither of us having the slightest confidence in its expected effects. He took the globules at twelve o'clock, and at five P.M. the tumefaction of the tonsils, with their redness and sensibility, had subsided to such an extent that he was able to partake of some food at dinner. The following morning all the symptoms, excepting a slight swelling, had subsided.

Since this period Dr. G. has repeatedly tried the same preparation in similar cases, and with equal success. In my own practice, I can record seven cases of cynanche tonsillaris which were thus relieved in the course of a few hours.

CASE IV.

H--, a young woman on the establishment of the Countess of --, was suffering under hemiplegia, and it was resolved by Dr. Brulatour and myself to try the effects of nux vomica. At this period the wonders of the homoeopathic practice had been extolled to the skies by its advocates, and we were resolved to give one of their supposed powerful preparations a fair trial. The girl was told that the powder she was about to take was simply a dose of calomel; and on calling upon her the following morning we did not expect that the slightest effect could have been obtained by this atomic dose, when, to our utter surprise, the patient told us that she had passed a miserable night, and described to us most minutely all the symptoms that usually follow the exhibition of a large dose of strychnine. It is but fair to mention that the homoeopathic treatment did not cure the disease; but the manifest operation of this fractional dose, that could not possibly be denied, is a fact of considerable importance.

CASE V.

Mrs. ---- of Brompton, Bow, had laboured under hectic fever for several months, and was so reduced by night perspirations, that she was on the very brink of the grave. Called into consultation, I frankly told her husband that every possible means known in the profession had been most judiciously employed, and that I saw no prospect of obtaining relief. At the same time I mentioned to him that the homoeopathic practitioners pretended that they had found the means of relieving these distressing symptoms, which he might submit to an experimental trial if he thought proper. He immediately expressed his wish that it should be adopted. I gave her a homoeopathic dose of phosphoric acid and stannum; and, to the surprise of all around her, the night sweats did not break out at their usual hour,--three o'clock in the morning. What renders this case still more interesting is the fact of these perspirations recurring so soon as the action of the medicine ceased; a circumstance so evidently ascertained, that the patient knew the very day when another dose became necessary.

CASE VI.

A daughter of the same lady was subject to deafness, which I attributed to a fulness of blood. This cause I clearly ascertained by the relief afforded by the application of a few leeches behind the ear. I was therefore induced, on a recurrence of the complaint, to endeavour to diminish vascular action by a dose of aconite. The effects were evident in the course of four hours, when the deafness and the other symptoms of local congestion had entirely disappeared.

* * * * *

I could record numerous instances of similar results, but they would of course be foreign to the nature of this work. I trust that the few cases I have related will afford a convincing proof of the injustice, if not the unjustifiable obstinacy, of those practitioners who, refusing to submit the homoeopathic practice to a fair trial, condemn it without investigation. That this practice will be adopted by quacks and needy adventurers, there is no doubt; but homoeopathy is a science on which numerous voluminous works have been written by enlightened practitioners, whose situation in life placed them far above the necessities of speculation. Their publications are not sealed volumes, and any medical man can also obtain the preparations they recommend. It is possible, nay, more than probable, that physicians cannot find time to commence a new course of studies, for such this investigation must prove. If this is the case, let them frankly avow their utter ignorance of the doctrine, and not denounce a practice of which they do not possess the slightest knowledge.

Despite the persecution that Hahnemannism (as this doctrine is ironically denominated) is at present enduring, every reflecting and unprejudiced person must feel convinced that, although its wild and untenable theories may not overthrow the established systems (if any one system can be called established), yet its study and application bid fair to operate an important revolution in medicine. The introduction of infinite small doses, when compared, at least, with the quantities formerly prescribed, is gradually creeping in. The history of medicine affords abundant proofs of the acrimony, nay, the fury, with which every new doctrine has been impugned and insulted. The same annals will also show that this spirit of intolerance has always been in the ratio of the truths that these doctrines tended to bring into light. From the preceding observations, no one can accuse me of having become a blind bigot of homoeopathy; but I can only hope that its present vituperators will follow my example, and examine the matter calmly and dispassionately before they proceed to pass a judgment that their vanity may lead them to consider a final sentence.

DOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES.

One of the most absurd medical doctrines that ever prevailed in the dark aeras of science was the firm belief that all medicinal substances displayed certain external characters that pointed out their specific virtues. This curious theory may be traced to the Magi and Chaldaeans, who pretended that every sublunary body was under a planetary influence. To find the means of concentrating or fixing this stellary emanation became a cabalistic study, called by Paracelsus the "ars signata;" and talismans of various kinds were introduced by the professors of sideral science. The word talisman appears to be derived from the Chaldaean and Arabic tilseman and tilsem, which mean characteristic figures or images.

Paracelsus, Porta, Crollius, and many other philosophers and physicians, cherished this vision, which had been transmitted to them through the dense mists of superstition from more ancient authorities; amongst others, Dioscorides, Aelius, and Pliny.

The lapis aetites, or eagle-stone, which was supposed to be found in the nests of this bird, but which, in fact, is nothing more than a variety of iron-ore, was said to prevent abortion if tied to the arm, and to accelerate parturition if affixed to the thigh. This conceit arose from the noise that seemed to arise from the centre of the stone when it was shaken: "Aetites lapis agitatus, sonitum edit, velut ex altero lapide praegnans." From this absurd hypothesis sprung the doctrine; and the very names of plants were supposed to indicate their specific qualities. For instance, the euphrasia, or eye-bright, exhibiting a dark spot in its corolla, resembling the pupil of the eye, was considered efficacious in affections of that organ. The blood-stone, the heliotropum, from its being marked with red specks, was employed to stop haemorrhage; and is to this day resorted to in some countries, even in England, to stop a bleeding from the nose.[41] Nettle-tea was prescribed for the eruption called nettle-rash. The semecarpus anacardium, bearing the form of a heart, was recommended in the diseases of this viscus. The cassuvium occidentale, resembling the formation of a kidney, was prescribed in renal complaints; and the pulmonary lichen of the oak, the sticta pulmonaria, from its cellular structure, was esteemed a valuable substance in morbid affections of the lungs. Deductions still more absurd, if possible, are recorded: thus saxifrage, and other plants that grow in rocky places, embodied as if it were in calcareous beds, were advised to dissolve the stone; and the echium, bearing some faint resemblance to a viper, was deemed infallible in the sting inflicted by this reptile. The divers colours of substances supposed to be medicinal were also another signature. Red flowers were given for derangement in the sanguiferous system, and yellow ones for those of the bile. In Crollius's work, entitled "De Signaturis Plantarum," many curious observations may be found; and Sennert, Keuch, Dieterich, and other writers displayed great industry in the division of these signatures, which, by the ancients, were considered as something denoting no particular quality, and were then called [Greek: asemoi charakteroi]; or [Greek: semantikoi], when their virtues were evident.

Amongst the various influences and indications that were attributed to colours, black was especially considered as the mark of melancholy. Baptista Porta affirms, that if a "black spot be over the spleen, or in the nails, it signifies much care, grief, contention, and melancholy." Cardan assures us that a little before his son's death he had a black spot, which appeared in one of his nails, and dilated itself as he approached his end.

While nature was thus supposed to mark the virtues of her productions on their external configuration, man assumed the same authoritative power, and marked medicines with certain signs or seals. For this purpose, the ancient physicians carried signets or rings, frequently worn upon the thumb, and on which were engraved their own names, sometimes written backwards, or the denominations of the nostrums they vended. On one of these seals we find the word aromaticu, from aromaticum; on another, melinu, abbreviation of melinum,--a collyrium prepared with the alum of the island of Melos. A seal of this kind is described by Tochon d'Annecy, bearing the words psoricum crocodem, an inscription that has puzzled medical antiquaries. The word psoricum was applied to an eruptive affection of the eye; and Actuarius mentions a collyrium psoricum of Aelius; while Marcellus Empiricus records the virtues of the psoricum stratioticum, which restored sight in twenty days to a patient who had been blind for twelve years; but, when it was applied, it was ineffectual, unless the words "Te nunc resunco, bregan gresso," were religiously pronounced. Crocodem was also supposed to apply to crocus or saffron, or to crocodes, a remedy for sore eyes, mentioned by Galen; while some learned men refer the word to the dejections of the crocodile, which were said to possess various virtues. The earth of Lemnos was sealed with the figure of Diana, and to this day the bolar argils, brought from Greece, bear various seals and characters; hence the bolus Armeniae, and bolus ruber, are called terra sigillata.

The influence of colours was supposed to have been so great, that in our own annals we find John de Gaddesden, mentioned by Chaucer, ordering the son of Edward I., when labouring under the small-pox, to be wrapped up in scarlet; and to the present day, flannel, died nine times blue, is supposed to be most efficacious in glandular swellings. Tourtelle, a French army physician, has made the following singular observation on this subject: "I observed that those soldiers of the Republic who were affected with diseases connected with transpiration were more severely indisposed, and not unfrequently exhibited symptoms of putrescency, when their wet clothes had left a blue tinge on the skin, than when they had been merely wetted by the rain." The explanation of this supposed phenomenon, is simply that those men who had been coloured by their uniforms, had, no doubt, been long wearing them, saturated by incessant rains, whereas the others had merely been exposed to occasional showers. From this observation, I do not pretend to affirm that any deleterious substances in a dye might not occasion a dangerous absorption; but the accidents that may result from such a circumstance could be easily explained without having recourse to any particular influence of colour. The colour of cloth, especially in army clothing, may also materially tend to influence cutaneous transpiration, as some colours are more powerful conductors of heat than others; and it is not impossible that the French soldiers, not belonging to fresh levies, and who had always been clad in white, might have experienced some difference of temperature when marching under intense heat in dark blue and green uniforms.

Some of the terms used by the signature doctrinarians may puzzle the most learned. The Greeks called them [Greek: semantika]; and, in addition to the all-powerful abracadabra,--an infallible cure of ague, when suspended round the neck,--we find the magic terms of sator, asebo, tenet, obera, rotas, abrac, khiriori, gibel, engraved upon amulets. For the bite of a mad dog, pax max, and adimax, were irresistible; and for a fractured arm or a luxation, araries, dandaries, denatas, and matas, would have set at defiance the most experienced chirurgeons. I must refer the curious reader on this important subject to the work De figuris Persarum Talismanicis of Guffarel, to the Oedipus of Kircher, the book of Crollius De signaturis internis rerum, and Isagoge physico-magico-medica of Elzer.

The church vehemently denounced these abominations; and we find in the council of Laodicea an injunction forbidding the priesthood the study and practice of enchantment, mathematics, astrology, or the binding of soul by amulets. These incantations were dreaded in every age. Thus Lucan:

Mens, hausti nulla sanie polluta veneni, Incantata perit.

Philosophers have justly observed that most of the diseases treated and supposed to have been cured by these mystic means, were of a nervous description, and therefore depending, in a great measure, upon moral influence. Here faith and hope assisted the physicians,--two great auxiliaries in every worldly turmoil and trouble. Therefore do we find most of these cures referred to epilepsy, paralysis, melancholy, hypochondriasis, hysteria, as well as to many periodical affections, the return of which is frequently arrested by mental impressions. A fright has checked the paroxysm of an intermittent fever; and many natural functions are impeded or brought on by a similar agency. The sight of a dentist has been often known to calm an excruciating toothache; and there is no complaint that has been cured by more singular means than this troublesome affection. In 1794, a tract was published in Florence by Dr. Ranieri Gerbi, a professor of mathematics in Pisa, entitled Storia naturale di un nuovo insetto, which he called curculio anti-odontalgicus, and which, being squeezed between the fingers, imparted to them, for the period of one year, the wonderful power of relieving toothache with the mere touch; and the author asserts that by this simple process he cured four hundred and one cases out of six hundred and twenty-nine. This may be considered a branch of magnetism, and has been treated by Schelhammar, in his book De Odontalgia tactu sedanda.

This wonderful insect belonged to the coleoptera, and was simply the curculio and the coccinella septem-punctata, well known to entomologists, and which, according to Cipriani Zuccagni, and more particularly Carradori, possessed these singular properties, which, however, subsequent experiments have fully disproved.

While we find some charms having sufficient power over our weak imagination to cure diseases, there were others considered sufficiently energetic to occasion death. Sometimes a wax figure was made, supposed to represent the devoted victim, and which was pierced with a pointed instrument, each stab being accompanied by a magic imprecation:

Devovet absentes, simulacraque cerea fingit.

These means the ancients called carmina, incantationes, devotiones sortiariae. It is somewhat strange that this same ceremony of the waxen image to destroy the object of our hate was also employed to obtain love. The figure was on these occasions called by the name of the person, and afterwards placed near the fire, when, as the heat gradually melted it, the obdurate heart of the lover was simultaneously softened. At other times two images were thus exposed to heat, the one of clay, the other of wax; and, while the one melted, the other became more hardened:--a vindictive feeling, to render our own heart insensible, while we mollified that of an ingrate; or perhaps with a view to render that heart inflexible to others, while it propitiated the addresses of the supplicant. Thus Virgil:

Limus ut hic durescit, et haec ut cera liquescit, Uno eodemque igni; sic nostro Daphnis amore. Sparge molam, et fragiles incende bitumine lauros. Daphnis me malus urit, ego hanc in Daphnide laurum.

The wishes of the ancients for those they loved were sometimes curious, and they often turned round a mystic wheel, praying that the object of their affections might fall down at their door and roll himself in the dirt.

The ancients, who daily witnessed this influence of the imagination in causing and in curing disease, have left us many valuable injunctions on the subject; and Plato thus expresses himself: "The office of the physician extends equally to the purification of mind and body; to neglect the one is to expose the other to evident peril. It is not only the body that by its sound constitution strengthens the soul, but the well-regulated soul, by its authoritative power, maintains the body in perfect health."

COFFEE.

It is doubtful to whom we owe the introduction of this article of luxury into Europe. The plant is a native of that part of Arabia called Yemen, but we find no mention made of it until the sixteenth century; and it is believed that Leonhart Rauwolf, a German physician, was the first writer who spoke of it, in a work published in 1573. The plant was also described by Prosper Alpinus, in his treatise on Egyptian plants, published in 1591 and 1592. Pietro della Valle wrote from Constantinople in 1615 that he would teach Europe the manner in which the Turks made their cahue. This spelling was no doubt incorrect; for, in a pamphlet printed at Oxford in 1659, in Arabic and English, it is written kauhi, or coffee. Purchas, who was a contemporary of Della Valle, called it coffa; and Burton thus speaks of its use: "The Turks have a drink called coffa, so named of a berry as black as soot and as bitter, which they sip still of, and sup as warm as they can suffer. They spend much time in their coffa-houses, which are somewhat like our alehouses and taverns, and there they sit chatting and drinking to drive away the time and to be merry together, because they find by experience that kinde of drink so used helpeth digestion and procureth alacrity."

The first coffee-house opened in London was in 1652. A Turkey merchant, of the name of Edwards, having brought with him from the Levant some coffee and a Greek servant, he allowed him to prepare and sell this beverage; when he established a house in St. Michael's Alley, Cornhill, on the spot where the Virginia Coffee-house now stands. Garraway's was the first coffee-house opened after the fire in 1666. It appears, however, that coffee was used in France in 1640; and a sale of it was opened at Marseilles in 1671.

The introduction of this berry was furiously opposed; and it appears that in its native land it was treated with no less severity, since, in an Arabian MS. in the King of France's library, coffee-houses were suppressed in the East. In 1663 appeared a pamphlet against it, entitled "A Cup of Coffee, or Coffee in its Colours." In 1672 the following lines were to be found in another publication, "A Broadside against Coffee, or the Marriage of the Turk:"

Confusion huddles all into one scene, Like Noah's ark, the clean and the unclean. For now, alas! the drench has credit got, And he's no gentleman who drinks it not.

Then came "The Woman's Petition against Coffee," which appeared in 1674, in which we find the following complaint: "It made men as unfruitful as the deserts whence that unhappy berry is said to be brought, so much so, that the offspring of our mighty ancestors would dwindle into a succession of apes and pigmies; and on a domestic message a husband would stop by the way to drink a couple of cups of coffee." It was then sold in convenient pennyworths;--hence coffee-houses where wits, quidnuncs, and idlers resorted, were called "penny universities."

While it had adversaries, coffee was not left without eloquent advocates. Sir Henry Blount, in his Organon Salutis, 1659, thus speaks of it: "This coffa-drink has caused a great sobriety among all nations. Formerly apprentices, clerks, &c. used to take their morning-draughts in ale, beer, or wine, which often made them unfit for business. Now they play the good-fellows in this wakeful and civil drink. The worthy gentleman, Sir James Muddiford, who introduced the practice hereof in London, deserves much respect of the whole nation."

It appears, however, that the jealousy with which the use of coffee was viewed, even by the government, arose more from the nature of the conversations that took place in coffee-houses during moments of public excitement, than from the apprehension of any injury that its consumption might have caused to the public health. In the reign of Charles II. coffee-houses were shut up by a proclamation, issued in 1675, as the retailing of coffee "nourished sedition, spread lies, scandalized great men, and might therefore be considered a common nuisance." As a nuisance, its abolition was considered as not being an infringement of the constitution! Notwithstanding this Machiavellian torturing of the letter to serve the spirit, this arbitrary act occasioned loud and violent discontent; and permission was given to reopen coffee-houses, on condition that the landlords should not allow any scandalous papers containing scandalous reports against the government or great men to be read on their premises!

The use, or rather the abuse, of coffee is said to produce feverish heat, anxiety, palpitations, trembling, weakness of sight, and predisposition to apoplexy. Its effects in checking somnolence have been long known. However, the action of this berry differs according to its being roasted or raw. An infusion of torrefied coffee assists digestion, and frequently removes headaches resulting from derangement in the digestive functions. It also neutralizes the effect of narcotics, especially opium, and this power is increased by the addition of lemon juice. A similar mixture has been known to cure obstinate agues. Musgrave and Percival recommended its use in asthma: indeed, most persons who labour under this distressing malady seem to derive relief from its use.

Taking into consideration all that has been advanced in regard to the inconveniences that may attend the use of coffee and tea, they must be considered as overruled by the moral results that have arisen from the introduction of these beverages; and a late writer has observed, that it has "led to the most wonderful change that ever took place in the diet of civilized nations,--a change highly important both in a moral and physical point of view. These beverages have the admirable advantage of affording stimulus without producing intoxication." Raynal observes, that the use of tea has contributed more to the sobriety of the Chinese than the severest laws, the most eloquent discourses, or the best treatises on morality.

The quality and effects of coffee differ according to the manner in which it is roasted. Bernier states that when he was at Cairo there were only two persons in that great city who knew how to prepare it to perfection. If it be underdone, its virtues will not be imparted, and its infusion will load and oppress the stomach; if it be overdone, its properties will be destroyed, and it will heat the body, and act as an astringent.

The best coffee is the Mocha, or that which is commonly called Turkey coffee. It should be chosen of a greenish, light, olive hue; the berries of a middling size, clean, and plump.

The bad effects of coffee may in all likelihood be attributed both to its powerful and stimulating aroma and to its pungent acidity. According to Cadet, this acid is the gallic; while Grindel considers it the kinic, and Pfaff terms it the caffeic acid. When strongly heated, it yields a pyro-caffeic acid, from which may be obtained a most pungent vinegar, that has recently been thrown into trade, but, I believe, with little or no success.

The principle of coffee is the caffein, discovered by Robiquet, in 1821; and it is to this active principle that its beneficial or baneful effects can be attributed. Recent experiments tend to show that it is possessed of powerful febrifuge virtues. To obtain this result, raw coffee has been used. It gives to water a greenish hue, and, thus saturated, it has been called the citrine coffee. Grindel has used this preparation in the treatment of intermittent fevers in the Russian hospital of Dorpat; he also administered the raw coffee in powder. In eighty cases of this fever scarcely any resisted the power of this medicine, given either in decoction, powder, or extract; but he seems to consider the latter form the most effectual. From this physician's observations, coffee may become a valuable addition to our materia medica; and the homoeopathic practitioners maintain that they have employed it with great success in various maladies.

AQUA TOPHANIA.

It was for a long time supposed that there actually did exist in Italy a secret poison, the effects of which were slow, and even unheeded, until a lingering malady had consumed the sufferer. No suspicions were excited; or, had they led to any post mortem examination, no trace of the terrific preparation's effects could have been detected.

It was towards the year 1659, during the pontificate of Alexander VII., that the existence of this baneful preparation was suspected. Many young women had been left widows; and many younger husbands, who might have ceased to please their wives, had died away. A certain society of young ladies had been observed to meet under the auspices of an elderly matron of rather a questionable character, who had been known in her horoscopic predictions to announce deaths that had but too truly taken place about the period she prophesied. One of the society, it appears, peached against her companions, who were all apprehended and put to the torture; and the lady patroness, whose name was Spara, was executed with four of her pupils. This Spara was a Sicilian, who had obtained the fatal secret from Tofania at Naples. Hence the composition was named aqua Tofania, aqua della Toffana, and acquetta di Napoli. These deadly drops had been charitably distributed by Tofania to various uncomfortable ladies who wished to get rid of their lords, and were contained in small phials, bearing the inscription of "Manna de San Nicolas de Bari." This hag had lived to an old age, but was at length dragged from a monastery, in which she had sought a sanctuary, tortured, and duly strangled, after a confession of her crimes.

Garelli, physician to Charles VI., thus wrote to Hoffmann on the subject: "Your elegant dissertation on the popular errors respecting poisons brought to my recollection a certain slow poison which that infamous poisoner, still alive in prison at Naples, employed to the destruction of upwards of six hundred persons. It was nothing else than crystallized arsenic dissolved in a large quantity of water by decoction, with the addition, but for what purpose I know not, of the herb cymbalaria (antirrhinum). This was communicated to me by his Imperial Majesty himself, and confirmed by the confession of the criminal in the judicial procedure."

Abbe Gagliani, however, gives a different account of the secret Neapolitan drug. "At Naples," he says, "the mixture of opium and cantharides is known to be a slow poison; the surest of all, and the most infallible, as one cannot mistrust it. At first, it is given in small doses, that its effects may be insensible. In Italy it is called aqua di Tufinia: no one can avoid its attacks, since the liquid is as limpid as water, and cannot be suspected. Most of the ladies of Naples have some of it lying carelessly on their toilet-tables with smelling-bottles; but they always can know the fatal phial when they need its contents." A curious observer has remarked on these two preparations, that the mixture of Garelli was, perhaps, intended for husbands, while that of Gagliani was for the use of lovers.

This remark appears judicious, since the potion described by the Abbe was evidently intended as an amorous philter. Under that head I have related many curious circumstances. There is no doubt but that these preparations often contained deadly drugs, the perilous qualities of which were most probably unknown to those who made them up without any sinister motives. Plutarch and Cornelius Nepos inform us that Lucullus, the Roman General, lost his reason, and subsequently his life, from having taken one of these mixtures; and Caius Caligula was driven into a fit of insanity by a philter given to him by his wife Caesonia, as described by Lucretius:

Tamen hoc tolerabile, si non Et furere incipias, ut avunculus ille Neronis Cui totam tremuli frontem Caesonia pulli Infudit.

Virgil also alludes to the powerful and baneful nature of the plants employed in magical incantations:

Has herbas, atque haec Ponto mihi lecta venena Ipse dedit Moeris; nascuntur plurima Ponto. His ego saepe lupum fieri, et se condere silvis Moerin, saepe animas imis excire sepulchris, Atque satas alio vidi traducere messes.

Female poisoners of a somewhat similar description were known amongst the ancients. Nero, when he resolved to destroy Britannicus, sent for one of those murderers, named Locusta, who, convicted of several assassinations, was pardoned, but kept by the emperor to execute his secret purposes. He wished that on this occasion the poison should produce immediate death. Locusta prepared a drug that destroyed a goat in a few minutes. This was not sufficiently active. The next preparation killed a hog in a few seconds. It was approved of. The ill-fated youth was seated at the imperial festive board--the potion poured into his goblet--and he died in epileptic convulsions. Nero, undisturbed, requested his guests to remain quiet--the youth he said was subject to similar attacks, which in general were but of short duration; but soon the black, the livid hue of the face betrayed the poison, which the imperial assassin sought to conceal, by ordering this tell-tale sign to be concealed with paint. Sir Henry Halford seems to think that Juvenal alludes to this circumstance in his first Satire.

Instituit rudes melior Locusta propinquas Per famam et populum nigros effere maritos.

The poisons used by the ancients appear to have been of various kinds; some more slow in their action than others, to suit, most probably, the views of their employers. Socrates, it is supposed, drank the cicuta, the action of which must have been very slow and weak, since his gaoler informed him that if he could exert himself in a warm debate, the effects might be arrested. The philosopher, however, remained tranquil. He shortly after experienced a numbness in the legs, gradually became insensible, and expired in convulsions.

These secret poisons were conveyed in the most stealthy manner. Hence it is related, that the poison prepared by Antipater, to destroy Alexander, had been conveyed in a mule's hoof, being of so corroding a nature, that no metallic vessel could contain it. This absurd story was credited by Plutarch and Quintus Curtius, whereas it appears more probable that poison was carried in an onyx, of which trinkets to contain precious ointments were frequently made, or under a human nail, also called Unguis, or [Greek: onux]. The latter case was the opinion of Dr. Heberden.

Sir Henry Halford, in his learned and interesting essay on the deaths of illustrious persons of antiquity, has clearly proved that Alexander was not poisoned, but died of a lingering fever of a remittent type; a disease that was most probably endemic in the marshes surrounding the city of Babylon.

Many absurd ideas regarding venenose substances prevailed in ancient days as well as in modern times. Hannibal and Themistocles were said to have been poisoned with bullocks' blood.

Eastern nations fancy that a fascinating power is the gift of virtue. In the Hitapadesa of Vishnusannan we find the following aphorism: "As a charmer draweth a serpent from his hole, so a good wife, taking her husband from a place of torture, enjoyeth happiness with him." Possibly some receipt of this description may be found in the archives of Doctors' Commons.

PLICA POLONICA AND HUMAN HAIR.

Hair may be considered a vegetation from the surface of the body. In a state of health, hairs are insensible, and it is more than probable that they possess no nerves, and that the circulation is carried on in the same manner as in plants. In the bulb or root of the hair, however, the vessels that promote this circulation are numerous, and there we may trace the diseases that affect this beauteous ornament of mankind, more especially in the Caucasian race. Long hair, of course, requires more nutriment than scanty locks, and some physicians have been of opinion that their great length debilitates. Dr. Parr affirms that he has observed symptoms of plethoric congestion to arise after long hair had been suddenly cut off.

Vauquelin has made curious experiments on this substance. A solution of black hair has deposited a black matter containing bitumen, sulphur, and iron; and alcohol extracted from the same coloured hair a whitish and a grayish-green oil. Red hair yielded whitish matter and a blood-red oil. White hair contained phosphate of magnesia, affording a proof of the disposition towards the formation of calcareous matter in old age. When hair becomes suddenly white under the shock of a severe moral impression, Vauquelin is of opinion that this phenomenon is to be attributed to the sudden extrication of some acid, as the oxymuriatic acid is found to whiten black hair. Parr thinks that this accident may be owing to an absorption of the oil of the hair by its sulphur, as in the operation of whitening woollen cloths.

The plica is a curious and disgusting malady, that has been considered a disease of the hair, which, according to vulgar report, secreted and shed blood. This affection is common and endemic in Poland; hence the term Polonica that has been given to it. The invasion of this pestilence has been traced to the irruption of the Moguls, from 1241 to 1287, chiefly under the command of Cayuk, grandson of Yenghiz. The most absurd tales were then related of the manner in which this dreaded infection was propagated. Spondanus affirms that it arose from the waters having been poisoned by venomous plants. Pistorius and Pauli relate that these waters were corrupted by the great number of human hearts that the Moguls cast in rivers and in wells. This supposition arose from the unheard-of acts of barbarity perpetrated by the ferocious invaders on the wretched population of Prussia, Poland, Hungary, and Transylvania. Their refined cruelty has been depicted by Gebhardi, in his history of Hungary, in the most glowing language.

Other historians assert that the plica originated in the East; such is the opinion of Stabel, Spreugel, and other writers. Rodrigo de Fonseca relates that the Indians, after drinking certain waters, were attacked with a disease in which the hair became agglomerated and matted in the most disgusting manner. Erndtel attributes the malady in Poland to the gluttonous consumption of horseflesh. However this may be, Poland has been ever considered the country most exposed to this visitation.

This disease affords a convincing proof of the vascularity of the hair, since it tumefies, augments in capacity so as to allow an evident circulation of blood, as the hairs will often bleed when divided with the scissors. Dr. Kerckhoffs regards the malady as the mere result of the custom among the filthy Poles of letting the hair grow to an immense length, of never combing or cleaning it, and always keeping the head covered with a woollen or leathern cap. Hence he observes that the rich are generally exempt from the affection which particularly prevails amongst the Jews. With this view of the disorder, he thinks that cleanliness and the excision of the matted hair are sufficient to effect a cure.

It is, however, more than probable that other causes occasion this horrible disease; and there is but little doubt that the system is affected by a particular virus. In many instances affections of the head complicate it; although it is likely that they may result from the constant irritation of the scalp, that sympathizes so powerfully with the membranes of the brain.

The different names given to the plica indicate more or less the ideas that prevail regarding its nature. The Poles call it gwozdiec or gwodziec, which signifies a nail that splits the wood into which it is driven. In the district of the Roxolans it is termed koltun, a stake. In Germany superstitious fancies have also given it various curious denominations. It is called alpzopf and schraitelzopf, as being the result of the malefices of vampires and incubi. By some it is asserted that the Moravians, natural enemies of the Poles, not having been able to conquer them by their arms, had recourse to magical art to inflict this scourge: hence they term it mahrenflechten, mahrenwichtung. To this day it is called hexenzopf and bichteln, or unbaptized, alluding, no doubt, to the Jews, who were accused of having introduced the disorder in the deadly hate they bore the Christians; hence was it also known by the name of Judenzopf (Coma Judaeorum).

Amongst the whimsical ideas to which the plica has given rise, the most extraordinary effort of the imagination was that of Hercules Saxoniae. He maintained that the fabulous description of the heads of the Gorgons and the Furies was derived from this affection: "Caput Gorgoneum, caput Furiarum, vera humana capita fuisse, et fictitiis poetarum occasionem praebuisse."

There are instances on record of infants being born with this loathsome malady. Davidson attributes this circumstance to the mental impressions of the mother: "Si ita matris ac nutricis superstitioni placere libuerit." The length of the matted hair in plica is frequently considerable: Bachstrom relates the case of a Prussian woman whose hair extended beyond the sides of her bed, and she was in the habit of turning it over to make a quilt of it; Caligerus saw a man in Copenhagen whose clotted locks were six feet three inches in length; and Rzaczyinski gives an account of a woman whose hair measured six ells. In the museum of Dr. Meckel, at Halle, is to be seen a specimen of the disease eight feet long. The beard and the hair of other parts of the body are equally liable to these attacks; while the affection has been observed in horses, dogs, and other animals. A curious case is related on this subject by Dr. Schlegel: A drunken coachman was carried away by a pair of spirited young horses, who precipitated themselves, with the fragments of the broken carriage, into the Moskwa. One of the animals was drowned; but the other contrived to extricate itself, and swam ashore. It continued sick for a considerable time, and, on its convalescence the plica broke out in its entire coat.

The assertion that the hairs become endowed with sensibility in this disorder is unfounded. The pain is experienced in the root or bulb; thus a painful sensation is occasionally felt when a lock of hair has been turned back under the nightcap. There is little doubt that the plica is to be attributed to a specific virus, which pervades the whole system unless successfully treated. The most serious accidents have arisen from neglecting it; and Starnigelio gives the following horrible account of its ravages. "Magno omnium malo magnoque cruciatu divagatur: infringit ossa, laxat artus, vertebras eorum infestat. Membra conglobat et retorquet; gibbos efficit, pediculos fundit, caputque aliis atque aliis succedentibus ita opplet, ut nequaquam purgari possit. Si cirri raduntur, humor ille et virus in corpus relabitur, et affectos, ut supra scriptum est, torquet; caput, manus, pedes, omnes artus, omnes juncturas, omnes corporis partes exagitat."

Amongst the various specifics recommended for the cure of plica, is the lycopodium, hence called herba plicaria; the vinca, or perventia. The [Greek: daphnoeides] and [Greek: kamai daphne] of the Greeks was also extolled, possibly from its supposed powers in cases of incantation, whence Apuleius calls it "victoria, quod vinceret pervinceretque injuriam temporis." This is the plant for which Rousseau felt such a predilection, that in after life he never beheld it without experiencing a delightful recollection of the pleasures of his boyhood. Its flowers are considered the symbol of virginity, and in Flanders are still called Maegden-palm. In Etruria maidens are crowned with a wreath of it on their funerals.

The decay and fall of the hair is an accident of frequent occurrence. This unpleasant drawback on vanity has been termed alopecia, from the Greek word [Greek: alopex], vulpes, a fox; this animal and the wolf being said to lose their hair and become bald sooner than any other quadruped. The Arabian writers were impressed with the same belief, and named the affection daustaleb, literally the wolf disease. Baldness is more frequent in males than in females; and it has been observed, that emasculated subjects are exempt from its visitation.

Amongst the singular anomalies that characterize our ideas, the respect in which hair (naturally unclean unless most carefully attended to) was held at various periods is as singular as the fond devotion with which it is treasured when having belonged to the objects of our affections. In ancient Rome neglected hair was the badge of bondage, and slaves were distinguished by the capillum passum, fluxum, et intonsum. Free men, on the contrary, took great care of it; and the term caesaries is said to be derived from the frequency of its cutting, while coma alluded to the great attention paid to its ornamental appearance. The Gauls wore long hair, and their country was thence called Gallia Comata. The German chiefs, deprived of their rank and power, were shorn of their locks as a mark of degradation and loss of strength. Shaving the heads of criminals is to this day considered ignominious.

Hair, most unquestionably, constitutes the proudest ornament of female beauty; and clustering locks, compared both by the ancients and the Oriental poets to the growth of grapes, has ever been considered a desideratum at the female toilet, artificial means to curl it having been resorted to from time immemorial, even by men. We find Virgil speaking contemptuously of Aeneas for the care he took of his locks:

Vibratos calido ferro, myrrhaque madentes.

The Romans called a man who thus frizzled himself, homo calamistratus.

Crisp and curled ringlets were ever admired, and Petrarch thus describes them:

Aura che quelle chiome bionde e crespe Circondi, e movi, e se mossa de loro Soave mente, e spargi quel dolce oro E poi'l raccogli, e'n bei nodi l'increspe.

Apuleius maintains, that if Venus were bald, though circled by the graces and the loves, she would not please even swarthy Vulcan. Petronius, in his description of Circe, describes her tresses naturally curling, and falling negligently over her shoulders, which they entirely covered. Apuleius praises her trailing locks, thick and long, and insensibly curling, dispersed over her divine neck, softly undulating with carelessness. Ovid notices those beauties who platted their braided hair like spiral shells. Petronius, to give an idea of a perfect beauty, says, that her forehead was small, and showed the roots of her hair raised upwards. This fashion, adopted by the Chinese, was not long ago a modish coeffure in France. Lucian, however, makes Thais say of a rival courtezan, "Who can praise her person, unless he is blind? Does she not draw up her scanty hair on her large forehead?"

The ancients also perfumed their hair, especially on festivals, with various ointments, composed of the spikenard and different balsams. They also occasionally painted it with a bright yellow. Unhappy must have been the poor slaves who had to attend a Roman lady's toilet; if a single ringlet was displaced, the scourge was applied, and the cow-skin of our West Indian planters, the Taurea ("scutica de pene taurino") brought into play; and not unfrequently the head of the offender was broken with the steel mirror that betrayed their negligence to the impatient fair one. As we are on the subject of female ingenuity in endeavouring to spread their nets more cunningly, it may be some comfort to our modern coquettes to know that antiquity seems to sanction the use of rouge, notwithstanding the fate of Jezabel. Plautus tells us that the Roman dames daubed their faces with the "fucus, compound of white lead and of vermilion:" hence were they called fucatae, cerusatae, and minionatae. Various cosmetics were also employed, and, when at home, their faces were preserved with a coat of paste, the skin having been previously rubbed with a pumice-stone, and then washed with asses' milk. Poppaea, the wife of Nero, had five hundred asses milked every day for her baths; and when she was exiled, a reduction of her establishment to fifty asses was considered a severe chastisement. Patches were also worn, of various shapes and dimensions, even by men; and Pliny tells us of one Regulus, a lawyer, who put a patch upon his right or left eye as he was going to plead for plaintiff or defendant.

The ancients also wore a certain hair-powder, a custom that was only revived in Europe in the seventeenth century, since it appears that this filthy fashion was brought in vogue at the fair of St. Germain, in 1614, by some beautiful ballad-singers.

In ancient mythology, hair was the symbol of life. All dead persons were supposed to be under the jurisdiction of the infernal deities, and no man could resign his life until some of his hair was cut off. Euripides introduces Death going to cut off some of the hair of Alcestis, when doomed to die instead of her husband Admetus; and Virgil describes Dido unable to resign her life, from her hair having been cut off by Proserpine, until Iris was sent by Juno to perform the kind office:

"Hunc ego Diti Sacrum jussa fero, teque isto corpore solvo." Sic ait, et dextra crinem secat; omnis et una Dilapsus, calor, atque in ventos vita recessit.

Locks of hair were suspended over the door of the deceased, to show that the family were in mourning. On these occasions, the hair was torn, cut off, or shaved. It was then sometimes strewed over the dead body, or cast on the funeral pile. On the demise of great men, whole cities and communities were shorn, while animals shared a similar fate. Admetus, on the death of Alcestis, ordered this operation to be performed on his chariot horses: and when Masistius was slain by the Athenians, the Persians shaved themselves, their horses, and their mules. Alexander, not satisfied with this testimony of grief, ordered the very battlements of a city to be knocked down, that the town might look bald and shorn of its beauty.

While in some cases bald heads were expressive of affliction, in others long hair denoted grief; Joseph allowed his hair to grow during his captivity; and Mephibosheth did the same when David was banished from Jerusalem. Juvenal informs us that mariners, on their escape from shipwreck, shaved their heads; and Lycophron describes long and neglected hair as a sign of general lamentation.

To be shaved by barbers was a proof of cheerfulness; but to cut off one's own hair denoted mourning. Hence Artemidorus informs us that for a man to dream of shaving himself was a presage of some calamity. However, this ceremony may, in its signification, be attributed to the customs of the various nations. Where the hair was generally worn short, its length indicated grief, and vice versa. The filth of long and neglected hair might also have been considered a proper and respectful mark of tribulation; for the ancients fancied that rolling themselves in the dirt was a convincing proof of affection; and we see Oeneus besmearing himself with nastiness on the death of his son Meleager:

Pulvere canitiem genitor, vultusque seniles Foedat humi fusos, spatiosumque increpat aevum.

Shaving was also a nuptial ceremony, when virgins presented their hair to Venus, Juno, Minerva, Diana, and other propitious divinities. At Troezene virgins were obliged to sacrifice their hair to Hippolytus, the son of Theseus, who died for his chastity. The Megarensian maidens presented them to Sphinoe, daughter of Alcathous, who died a virgin. Statius records this ceremony, when speaking of Minerva's temple:

Hic more parentum Insides, thalamis ubi casta adolescerat aetas, Virgineas libare comas; primosque solebant Excusare toros.

ANIMAL MAGNETISM.

Are we to give credit to the various observations that record the wonderful effects of animal magnetism; or should we reject them as the impostures of knaves, or the result of the credulity of fools? It is now nearly half a century since this method of relieving diseases has been introduced by modern practitioners. Thousands of disinterested and candid witnesses have corroborated their assertions, and testified to their veracity. How, then, are we authorized to treat this doctrine as visionary or fraudulent? The most learned bodies have not thought it derogatory to their dignity to investigate the matter; and, notwithstanding opposition, ridicule, and contempt, the practice obtains to the present day. It has, no doubt, been materially impeded in its progress by the invectives of occasional scepticism; but such will ever be the case with science, and those discoveries which accelerate its inevitable empire on the human understanding. Persecution may be considered as the harbinger of truth, or, at any rate, of that investigation which directs to it. Pythagoras was banished from Athens; Anaxagoras was immured in a dungeon; Democritus was considered a maniac, and Socrates condemned to death. An advanced and honourable old age did not protect Galileo against his barbarous persecutors. Varolius was decreed an infamous and execrable man for his anatomical discoveries, and our immortal Harvey was looked upon as a dangerous madman. Inoculation and vaccination were deemed impious attempts to interfere with the decrees of Providence.

Magnetism may be defined as a reciprocal influence which is supposed to exist between individuals, arising from a state of relative harmony, and brought into action by the will, the imagination, or physical sensibility. This influence is said to exist in a peculiar fluid, transmissible from one body to another under certain conditions of each individual, without which the expected results are not manifest. Under these conditions, the effects of animal magnetism are obtained by manual application, by gestures, words, and even looks, more frequently, as may be easily conceived, with nervous, weak, and impressionable individuals. By these means magnetizers affirm that they can effect cures when all other remedial endeavours have been of no avail, either when the patient is awake or in a state of artificial somnambulism.

The history of this doctrine is curious. The ancients fully admitted the power of sympathy in the cure of diseases; but generally attributed its action to the interference of Divinity, or the operation of sorcery and enchantment. A remarkable affinity can be traced between modern magnetism and its supposed phenomena, and the relations of the Pythian and Sibylline oracles, the wonders of the caverns of Trophonius and Esculapius, and the miraculous dreams and visions in the temples of the gods. Amongst the Hebrews, the Egyptians, the Greeks, and Romans, we constantly discover traces of this supposed power of manual apposition, friction, breathing, and the use of the charms of music and mystic amulets. The Egyptian priesthood were considered as possessing a divine attribute in healing diseases. Prosper Alpinus, in his treatise on the medicine of the Egyptians, informs us that mysterious frictions were one of their secret remedies. The patients were oftentimes wrapped in the skins of animals, and carried into the sanctuary of their temples to be assisted by visions, that appeared either to them or to their physicians, who pretended that Isis was the immortal source of these celestial inspirations. The same divine assistance was firmly believed by the Hebrews. It was intimated to Miriam and Aaron that the Lord would make himself known to them in a vision, and speak to them in a dream; and we find in Deuteronomy that the signs and the wonders of prophets and dreamers of dreams were to be considered as the abominations of idolaters, who were to be put to death without pity. This anathema on false prophets was not unfrequently rigorously carried into execution, and we read in the Book of Kings the destruction of all the worshippers of Baal. Ahab marched upon Ramoth-Gilead by the advice of his prophets.

The sympathetic power of corporeal apposition was illustrated when Elisha, to revive the widow's child, stretched himself three times upon him and prayed to the Lord. When Elisha restored the child of the Shunamite to life he lay upon it, put his mouth upon his mouth, his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands, and he stretched himself upon the child, and the child opened its eyes. Miracles were generally wrought by manual application or elevation. Naaman expected that Elisha would have stricken his hand over the place to cure his leprosy; and we find in the Scriptures that our SAVIOUR healed the sick upon whom he laid his hands. Amongst the Greeks we again see the same ceremonies performed on all wonderful recoveries. Plutarch tells us that Pyrrhus cured persons with diseased spleens by passing his hand over the seat of the malady. Aelianus informs us that the Psylli performed their cures by stretching themselves upon the patients, and making them swallow water with which they had rinsed their mouths; and he also mentions that those who approached these mysterious agents were seized with a sudden stupor, and deprived of their intellects until they had left them. Apollonius brought a young girl to life by touching her, and leaning over her as though he were whispering some magic words in her ear; and Origenes affirms that there were sages who dispensed health with their mere breath. Vespasian restored sight to the blind by rubbing their eyes and cheeks with his saliva, and cured a paralytic by merely touching him: the same emperor kept himself in perfect health by frequently rubbing his throat and his body. From a passage of Plautus, it appears that this manual application was resorted to in his days to procure sleep. Mercury is made to say, "Quid si ego illum tractem, tangam ut dormiat;" to which Sosia replies, "Servaveris, nam continuas has tres noctes pervigilavi."

Pliny maintains that there exist persons whose bodies are endowed with medicinal properties; but he admits, at the same time, that imagination may produce these salutary emanations. Celsus informs us that Asclepiades by friction could calm a phrensy; and further states, that when these frictions were carried to too great an extent, they brought on a lethargic state. Caelius Aurelianus recommends manual frictions for the cure of pleurisy, lethargy, and various other maladies, describing the manner in which they are to be conducted: for instance, in epilepsy, the head and forehead are to be chafed, then the hand is to be carried gently over the neck and bosom; at other times, the extremities of the hands and feet are to be grasped, that "we may cure by the very act of holding the limb."

That remedies were indicated in a state of somnambulism is affirmed by Tertullian, who thus speaks of one of the followers of Prisca and Maximilla, two women who foretold future events when they fell into an ecstatic swoon: "She conversed with angels, discovered the most hidden mysteries, prophesied, read the secrets of the heart, and pointed out remedies when she was consulted by the sick." He thus describes ecstasy in his treatise De Anima: "It is not sleep, for during sleep all reposes; whereas in ecstasy the body reposes, while the soul is actively employed. It is therefore a mixed state of sleep and ecstasy which constitutes the prophetic faculty, and it is then that we have revealed unto us, not only all that appertaineth to honour, to riches, but the means of curing our diseases." St. Stephen relates the case of a youth who was in such a lethargic state, that he was insensible to all painful agents, and could not be awakened; but when he recovered his senses, he declared that two persons, the one aged, the other young, had appeared to him and recommended sea-bathing. He complied with the instruction, and was cured. But the miracles of paganism were soon discredited, when the relics and tombs of saints were resorted to instead of the temples of the false gods; and priests assumed the power once held by their Chaldean and Egyptian predecessors, and the Druids of Gaul. The beatified were not only physicians during their life, but medicinal after death. St. Gregory of Tours tells us that St. Cosmus and St. Damian were not only able physicians during their blessed existence, but assisted all those who consulted them in their tombs, not unfrequently appearing to them in visions, and prescribing the proper remedies. A saint's breathing upon a veil, and then placing it on the head of a demoniac, infallibly cast out the evil one; and St. Bernard never failed in his exorcisms, by making the possessed swallow some water in which he had dipped his hands. St. Martin stopped the most fearful hemorrhage by merely touching the patient with his garment. The shrines of St. Litardus, St. Anthony, and various other saints, lulled to sleep, and inspired with miraculous visions those who sought their aid.

However, as the progress of intellect dispelled the dark clouds that shrouded the middle ages in superstitious and credulous prejudices, philosophy endeavoured to investigate the nature of this mysterious agency, which priests had for so many centuries usurped as their special gift and property. Sceptic as to supernatural powers in the common occurrences of life, philosophers attributed these phenomena to some peculiar principle with which organized bodies were endowed, and hence arose the dawn of the doctrine of animal magnetism. So early as 1462, Pomponatius of Mantua maintained, in his work on incantation, that all the pretended arts of sorcery and witchcraft were the mere results of natural operations; he further gave it as his opinion, that it was not improbable but that external means, called into action by the soul, might relieve our sufferings; that there, moreover, did exist individuals endowed with salutary properties, and it might therefore easily be conceived that marvellous effects should be produced by the imagination, and by confidence, more especially when they are reciprocal between the patient and the person who assists his recovery; physicians and men of sense being well convinced that if the bones of any animal were substituted for those of a saint, the result would be the same. It need not be added that our author was violently persecuted for this heretical doctrine. Two years after, Agrippa, in Cologne, asserted that the soul, inflamed by a fervent imagination, could dispense health and disease, not only in the individual himself, but in other bodies. In 1493, Paracelsus expressed himself in the following language: "All doubt destroys work, and leaves it imperfect in the wise designs of nature. It is from faith that imagination draws its strength. It is by faith that it becomes complete and realized. He who believeth in nature, will obtain from nature to the extent of his faith. Let the object of this faith be real or imaginary, you nevertheless reap similar results; and hence the cause of superstition."

Cardanus, Bacon, and Van Helmont pursued this study; and the latter physician, having cured several cases by magnetism, was considered a sorcerer, and was seized by the Inquisition. Magnetism, he observed, "is a universal agent, and only novel in its appellation, and paradoxical to those who ridicule every thing they do not comprehend, or attribute to Satan what they cannot understand. The name of magnetism is given to that occult influence which bodies possess on each other at various distances, either by attraction or by impulsion. The means or the vehicle of this influence is an ethereal spirit, pure, vital, (magnale magnum,) which penetrates all matter, and agitates the mass of the universe. This spirit is the moderator of the world, and establishes a correspondence between its several parts and the powers with which it is endowed. We can attach to a body the virtues that we possess, communicate to it certain properties, and use it as the intermediate means to operate salutary effects. I have hitherto withheld the revelation of this great mystery. There exists in man a certain energy, which can act beyond his own person according to his will or his imagination, and impart virtues and exercise a durable influence even in distant objects. Will is the first of powers." Van Helmont fully admitted the wonderful faculties that somnambulism seemed to develop, and informs us that it was chiefly during his sleep that he was inspired with his doctrines. One might have imagined that these philosophic researches would have put an effectual stop to the progress of superstition, or rather of persecution; yet their promulgation could not save Urbain Grandier, and many supposed sorcerers, from a barbarous death.

It was in the beginning of the eighteenth century that various experiments were made with the loadstone in researches regarding electricity. In 1754, Lenoble had constructed magnets that could be used with facility in the treatment of various diseases. In 1774, Father Hell, a Jesuit and professor of astronomy at Vienna, having cured himself of a severe rheumatism by magnetism, related the result of his experiments to Mesmer. This physician was immediately struck with observations that illustrated his own theories respecting planetary influence. He forthwith proceeded to procure magnets of every form and description for the gratuitous treatment of all those that consulted him; and, while he widely diffused his doctrines, he sent his magnets in every direction to aid the experimental pursuits of others, and thus expressed himself on the subject in a memoir published in 1779: "I had maintained that the heavenly spheres possessed a direct power on all the constituent principles of animated bodies, particularly on the nervous system, by the agency of an all-penetrating fluid. I determined this action by the INTENSION and the REMISSION of the properties of matter and organized bodies, such as gravity, cohesion, elasticity, irritability, and electricity. I supported this doctrine by various examples of periodical revolutions; and I named that property of the animal matter, which renders it susceptible to the action of celestial and earthly bodies, ANIMAL MAGNETISM. A further consideration of the subject led me to the conviction that there does exist in nature an universal principle, which, independently of ourselves, performs all that we vaguely attribute to nature or to art."

Mesmer, as might have been foreseen, became the object of persecution and of ridicule, and withdrew to Switzerland and Suabia. It was there that he met with a certain Gassner of Braz, who, having fancied that an exorcism had relieved him from a long and painful malady, took it into his head to exorcise others. He considered the greater part of the disorders, to which flesh is heir as the work of the devil, and he counteracted his baneful influence in the name of our SAVIOUR. He divided these diabolical visitations into possessions, obsessions, and circumsessions; the latter being trifling invasions. For the purpose of ascertaining whether his patients laboured under natural or infernal ailments, he conjured Satan to declare the truth. If, after three solemn interpellations, and signs of the cross, the devil did not answer, the disorder was considered as coming within the province of medicine; but if, on the contrary, the patient fell into convulsions, Gassner drew forth his stole and crucifix, and, in the name of the Redeemer, commenced rubbing and pinching, sometimes in the most indecorous manner, when females were submitted to his manipulations. When his attempts failed, he accused the patient of want of faith or of the commission of some deadly sin, which baffled his endeavours. His fame became so universal, that the Bishop of Ratisbon sent for him, and he exercised his art under his auspices. At one period, the town was so crowded with his patients, that ten thousand of them were obliged to encamp without the walls. It appears that this adventurer had the power of acting upon the pulse, and could increase or retard it, render it regular or intermittent, and was even reported to paralyze limbs and produce tears or laughter at will. It is scarcely credible, yet the celebrated De Haen, one of the most distinguished and learned practitioners in Germany, not only believed in the power of this Gassner, but actually attributed it to a paction with the devil.

Mesmer was not so credulous, and explained the miraculous cures of Gassner by the doctrines of the animal magnetism which he advocated. From Suabia he returned to Vienna, whence he was expelled as a quack; and in 1778 arrived at Paris, a capital that had patronised Cagliostro and St. Germain, and was ever ready to be deceived by ingenious empiricism. In 1779 he published a paper on the subject, in which he maintained twenty-seven propositions to establish his supposed influence between the celestial bodies, the earth, and animated matter, produced by a fluid universal, subtile, susceptible of receiving, transmitting, and communicating its impressions, on mechanical principles, until then unknown, and producing alternate effects of flux and reflux. This powerful agent, he said, acted chiefly on the nervous system. The human body, moreover, according to his notions, possessed properties analogous to the loadstone, and presenting an opposed polarity, subject to various modifications, which either strengthened or weakened it. The action of animal magnetism, according to him, was not confined to animal matter, but could be equally communicated to inanimate bodies at various distances. Mirrors could reflect and increase its power like the rays of light, and sound could propagate and increase it. This magnetic property, he further stated, could be accumulated, concentrated, and transported at pleasure, although there did exist animated bodies possessed of properties so opposite as to render this powerful agent inefficient. He found that the loadstone was susceptible of animal magnetism, and of its opposite virtues, without any apparent influence on its power over iron and the needle; whence he concluded that there existed a wide difference between animal and mineral magnetism.

Mesmer soon found a warm advocate of his doctrines in a Dr. D'Eslon, and animal magnetism became in fashionable vogue. Not only were men and animals subjected to their experiments, but this wondrous influence was communicated to trees and plants, and the celebrated elm-tree of Beaugency was magnetized by the Marquis de Puysegur and his brother; while the enthusiastic D'Eslon absolutely went knocking from door to door to procure patients. Breteuil, who was then one of the ministers, offered Mesmer a yearly pension of thirty thousand francs, with a sum of three hundred thousand francs in cash, with the decoration of St. Michael, if he would consent to reveal the mysteries of his science to the medical faculty. This tempting offer our magnetizer indignantly rejected, and a secret society was instituted under the name of the Lodge and Order of Harmony. The charms and the power of youth and music were not neglected as auxiliaries to propagate the fashionable doctrine. Young men of elegant manners and athletic form were initiated in the practice of magnetizing, and the salons of Paris consecrated to this worship (for such it might have been termed) were crowded with the most fascinating women that the gay metropolis of France could produce. Most of these females, impassioned by nervous excitability, as loose in their morals as to outward appearance they were fervent in their devotions, abandoned themselves without reserve to the delightful sensations that magnetism and its surrounding machinery were said to afford. In their ecstasies, their hysteric attacks, their spasms, Mesmer, the high-priest, fancifully dressed, but in the height of fashion, with his useful acolytes, endeavoured to soothe and calm the agitation of their enchanting patients by all the means that Mesmerism could devise.

It soon became pretty evident that these phenomena were solely to be attributed to the influence of imagination; and Doppet, one of the most ardent disciples of the new creed, frankly avowed that "those who were initiated in the secrets of Mesmer entertained more doubts on the subject than those who were in thorough ignorance of them." Notwithstanding this evidence brought forward against Mesmer's fascinating practice, he was warmly eulogised even by high churchmen; and Hervier, a doctor of Sorbonne, did not hesitate to assert that the Golden Age was on the return; that man would be endowed with fresh vigour, live for the space of five generations, and only succumb to the exhaustion of age; that all the animal kingdom would enjoy a similar blessing; while magnetized trees would yield more abundant and delicious fruits. This belief of the good ecclesiastic arose, according to his own assertion, from his having been cured of some cruel disorder by magnetism, while all his intimate acquaintances insisted that he had never ceased to enjoy perfect health.

Such were the circumstances that attended the introduction of animal magnetism, which to this day is defended and maintained by ardent proselytes. Sound philosophy can only attribute its wonderful phenomena, many of which cannot be denied, to the influence of the imagination, and the all-powerful deceptive agency of faith. It is an incontrovertible fact, that the nervous system may be so worked upon, thrown by various secret and physical means into such a morbid condition, that results bordering upon the miraculous in the eyes of the credulous may be easily obtained. Every circumstance that appears to differ from the usual course of nature is deemed miraculous by the ignorant; and the Greek proverb [Greek: thaumata morois], plainly maintains that miracles are only for the simple. In fact, who are the persons who in our times cry out "miracle," but weak and timid men, worn out by excesses or age, labouring under the influence of terror; silly old women, who have not the power of reasoning; or nervous and enthusiastic females, who seek for some saving clauses in a pact between vice and virtue, depravity and religion.

All the wonders of the creation are miraculous, if we are to consider those phenomena that are, and most probably will ever remain, beyond our humble and miserable comprehension to be such. The manifestations of the Creator's will are daily exhibited in stupendous forms that strike the ignorant with awe, while they lead the man of science to bow in grateful veneration to that Almighty power that has harmonized the creation for our wellbeing, if we would only obey the sublime dictates of his laws, without attempting to scrutinize their spirit by quibbling with their letter.

There can be but little doubt that the wonders of magnetism may be referred to the imagination; yet some of the phenomena must excite our surprise, and may occasion some degree of hesitation in invariably attributing its results to fancy. The Academy of Medicine of Paris having appointed a commission of twelve members to examine and report upon it, their inferences were as follow:

1. The effects of magnetism were not evident in healthy persons, and in some invalids.

2. They were scarcely apparent in others.

3. They often appeared to be the result of ennui, monotony, and the influence of imagination.

4. Lastly, they are developed independently of these causes, very probably by the effects of magnetism alone.

The points of this report that I have printed in italics prove most clearly that the members of the commission, all of whom were decidedly adverse to the doctrine, were convinced, at least to a certain extent, by the experiments they had witnessed, of some singular powers residing in this mysterious science. Such must have been the case, since we find three members seceding from their associates, Laennec, Double, and Magendie, all well known as distinguished physiologists, somewhat inclined to pure materialism, and what may be termed matter-of-fact men, who would hesitate in yielding their belief to any assertion that the scalpel could not demonstrate. Notwithstanding the protest of these gentlemen, the following were the conclusions of the commission:

1. Contact of the thumbs and magnetic movements are the means of relative influence employed to transmit magnetic action.

2. Magnetism acts on persons of different age and sex.

3. Many effects appear to depend on magnetism alone, and are not reproduced without it.

4. These effects are various. Sometimes magnetism agitates, at other times it calms. It generally causes acceleration of the pulse and respiration, slight convulsive movements, somnolency, and, in a few cases, somnambulism.

5. The existence of peculiar characters of somnambulism has not yet been proved.

6. It may, however, be inferred that this state of somnambulism prevails when we notice the development of new faculties, such as clairvoyance and intuitive foresight, or when it produces changes in the physiological condition of the individual, such as insensibility, sudden increase of strength, since these effects cannot be attributed to any other cause.

7. When the effects of magnetism have been produced, there is no occasion on subsequent trials to have recourse to passes.[42] The look of the magnetizer and his will have the same influence.

8. Various changes are effected in the perceptions and faculties of those persons in whom somnambulism has been induced.

9. Somnambulists have distinguished with closed eyes objects placed before them. They have, then, read words, recognised colours, named cards, &c.

10. In two somnambulists we witnessed the faculty of foreseeing acts of the organism to take place at periods more or less distant. One announced the day, the hour, and the minute of the invasion and recurrence of an epileptic fit; the other foresaw the period of his recovery. Their anticipations were realized.

11. We have only seen one somnambulist who had described the symptoms of the diseases in three individuals presented to her.

12. In order to establish justly the relations of magnetism with therapeutics, one must have observed the effects on a number of individuals, and have made experiments on sick persons. Not having done this, the commissioners can only say, they have seen too few cases to enable them to form a decisive opinion.

13. Considered as an agent of physiological phenomena, or of therapeutics, magnetism should find a place in the range of medical science, and be either practised, or its employment superintended by a physician.

14. From the want of sufficient opportunities, the commission could not verify the existence of any other faculties in somnambulists; but its reports contain facts sufficiently important to conclude that the Academy ought to encourage researches in animal magnetism, as a curious fact of psychology and natural history.

This report was impugned by Mr. Dubois, in what he calls his rational conclusions, which of course maintain that those of the commission were irrational. However, in this paper he merely affirms his own incredulity, without supporting it upon any grounds of experiment or observation; and therefore his observations must be considered an individual attempt to refute the assertions of a body of scientific men, who, after diligently and maturely weighing the arguments in favour of a doctrine that they were previously disposed to condemn as unworthy of research, came to the conclusions that we have seen.

While the French Academy did not consider it beneath their dignity to investigate this doctrine, in other parts of Europe it attracted the attention both of the reigning monarchs and the most distinguished physicians. In Prussia, Hufeland, who had been one of the warmest opponents of magnetism, became a convert; and a clinical hospital was established in Berlin, by order of the government, to observe and record its phenomena. At Frankfort and Groningen, Drs. Passavant and Bosker published works on the subject; the latter having translated the critical history of Deleuze. At Petersburg, Dr. Stoffreghen, first physician of the Emperor, pronounced himself with several colleagues in its favour; and most of these distinguished men seemed to partake of the opinion of the justly celebrated Orfila, who certainly may be considered as an authority, and who thus expressed himself on the subject:

"If there exists trickery and quackery in animal magnetism, its adversaries are too hasty in refusing to admit all that has been asserted in regard to its effects. The testimony of enlightened physicians should be considered as proofs. If the magnetic phenomena appear extraordinary, the phenomena of electricity appeared equally marvellous in its origin. Was Franklin to be considered a quack when he announced that with a pointed metal he could command thunder? Whether magnetism acts in good or in evil, it is clearly a therapeutic agent, and it behoves both the honour and the duty of the Academy to examine it."

Such is the present state of this curious science. To what credit it may be entitled, and how far it may become a useful medical agent, experience alone can decide. At the same time, it would be unjust to assert, in our present ignorance, that all the learned and independent men who support it are either fools or knaves.[43]

POISONOUS FISHES.

The deleterious qualities of certain fishes have long been the subject of medical conjectures. It is somewhat singular, and most difficult to account for, that the same fish should be wholesome in some waters, and deadly in others, although under the same latitude, and when, to all appearance at least, no local cause can be discovered to which we might reasonably attribute this fatal property. So powerful and prompt moreover, it is in its action that rapid death will ensue whenever a small portion of the fish has been eaten. Such, for instance, is generally the case with the yellow-bill sprat, the clypea thrissa.

Some naturalists attribute this poison to copper banks, on or near which the fish may feed. The absurdity of this opinion has been fully demonstrated; in the first instance, no such copper banks have been discovered in the West Indies, and these fish abound on the coasts of islands of coral formation. Moreover, it is not likely that this mineral should saturate the animal; and, even if it could produce this effect, the entire body would in all probability be affected, whereas the poison seems to lie in particular parts, chiefly in the intestines, the liver, the fat, &c. This is evident from the practice of fishermen, who can eat poisonous fish with impunity if they have taken the precaution to draw them carefully and salt them. In addition to these observations, the symptoms of the disease thus produced, by no means resemble those of mineral poisons. Dr. Chisholm, who pretends that copper banks do exist in the Windward Islands, is of this opinion. Admitting the facts, it may be asked, have the waters of these seas been impregnated by the copper? if they are not, how can its influence extend to its inhabitants? and why are particular fish only affected? Moreover, although it is well known that certain substances are deleterious to some animals and harmless to others, yet one might fancy that, if the coppery principal of an animal's flesh could poison, it is not irrational to think that the same deadly substance would also destroy the animal. The presence of this mineral has never been detected by any chemical test; and, if the poison consisted in copper, how could salting the fish destroy it? In opposition to these objections, it has been maintained that fish may be rendered poisonous by feeding on the marine plants that grow upon these deadly banks. Now, unless it could be proved that copper is not injurious to fish, these same lithophyta and zoophyta would no doubt poison them.

However, it is more than probable that it is to a certain injurious food that these dangerous qualities are to be referred. Various plants that grow in these regions are of a poisonous nature to man, although, as I have just observed, they may not be so destructive to fish. The circumstance of the alimentary tube being more poisonous than any other part seems to warrant the conclusion; and I have observed in the West Indies, that the crabs that feed upon banks where the manchineel is to be found, frequently occasion serious, and sometimes fatal accidents. On the coast of Malabar, crabs are poisonous in the month of October, when the blue tithymale abounds.

Whatever may be the causes of this deadly principle, the effects are most rapid. When a large quantity has been taken, the patient soon dies in strong convulsions; but frequently, when the quantity and the nature of the poison have not been sufficient to occasion death, the body becomes emaciated, the cuticle peels off, particularly on the palms of the hands and the soles of the feet, the hair drops, acute pains shoot through every joint, and the sufferer not unfrequently sinks under a lingering disease. In these cases change of climate has been found the most effectual remedy, and a return to Europe becomes indispensable.

The usual symptoms that denote the presence of the poison, are languor, heaviness, drowsiness, great restlessness, flushing of the face, nausea, griping, a burning sensation, at first experienced in the face and eyes, and then extending over the whole body; the pulse, at first hard and frequent, soon sinks, and becomes slow and feeble. In some cases the salivary glands become tumefied with a profuse salivation; and the body, and its perspiration, are as yellow as in the jaundice. These peculiar symptoms have frequently been known to arise after eating the rock-fish.

The remedies that are usually resorted to are stimulants. Capsicum has been considered a powerful antidote; and the use of ardent spirits or cordials has also been strongly urged. It has been observed, that persons who had drunk freely, or who had taken a dram after eating fish that had disordered others, were, comparatively speaking, exempt from the severity of the disease. A decoction of the root of the sour-sop, and an infusion of the flowers of the white cedar and the sensitive plant have also been advised by several West India practitioners.

The practice of putting a silver spoon in the water in which fish is boiled, to ascertain its salubrity, is a popular test that cannot be depended on. Fishermen have observed that fish that have no scales are more apt to prove injurious; and those of uncommon size are looked upon as the most dangerous.

To ascertain whether the nature of the fishes' food could thus render them poisonous, Mr. Moreau de Jonnes had recourse to many curious experiments. He took portions of polypes found in the waters reputed dangerous, more particularly the liriozoa Caribaea, the millepora polymorpha, the gorgonia pinnata, the actinia anemone, &c., and, having enveloped them in paste, he fed fishes with them; but in no one instance was any prejudicial result observed. He tried in the same manner the physalis pelagica of Lamark, which contains an acrid and caustic fluid; but the fish invariably refused it, nor would they touch fragments of the manchineel apple.

Oysters have been known to produce various accidents; and, when they were of a green colour, it has been supposed that this peculiarity was also due to copper banks. This is an absurdity; the green tinge is as natural to some varieties as to the esox belone, whose bones are invariably of the same hue as verdigrise. Muscles frequently occasion feverish symptoms, attended with a red, and sometimes a copper-coloured, efflorescence over the whole body. These accidents appear to arise from some peculiar circumstances. In Boulogne I attended a family in which all the children who had eaten muscles were labouring under this affection, while not another instance of it was observed in the place. In the Bahama Islands I witnessed a fatal case in a young girl who had eaten crabs; she was the only sufferer, although every individual in the family had shared in the meal. The idea of the testaceous mollusca avoiding copper-bottomed vessels, while they are found in abundance on those that are not sheathed, is absurd; this circumstance can be easily explained by the greater facility these creatures find in adhering to wood. There is every reason to believe, that the supposed poisonous oysters found adhering to the copper bottom of a ship in the Virgin Isles, and the occasional accidents amongst the men that ate them, were only so in the observer's imagination, and that part of the ship's company were affected by some other causes. Another report, equally absurd, was that of the fish having gradually quitted the Thames and Medway since coppering ships' bottoms has been introduced! The following may be considered the fish that should be avoided:

The Spanish mackerel, Scomber caeruleo-argenteus. The yellow-billed sprat, Clupea thrissa. The baracuta, Esox baracuta. Grey snapper, Coracinus fuscus. The porgie, Sparus chrysops. The king-fish, Scomber maximus. The hyne, Coracinus minor. Bottle-nosed cavallo, Scomber. Old wife, Balistes monoceros. Conger eel, Muraena major. Sword-fish, Xiphias gladius. Smooth bottle-fish, Ostracion globellum. Rock-fish, Perca manna.

I have known accidents arise from the use of the dolphin on the high seas; and, while I was in the West Indies, a melancholy instance of the kind occurred, when the captain, mate, and three seamen of a trading vessel died from the poison; a passenger, his wife, and a boy, were the only survivors, and were fortunately picked up in the unmanageable vessel.

The above catalogue of poisonous fishes is extracted from Dr. Dancer's "Jamaica Practice of Physic," and its correctness fell under my own observation in the Wrest Indies. The different systems and classifications of ichthyologists have produced much confusion, and may lead to fatal errors; I think it therefore advisable to submit to travellers, who may have to visit these unhealthy regions, the names of the toxicophorous fishes according to the French momenclature.

Le poisson arme, Diodon orbicularis. La lune, Tetraodon mola.--LINN. Le tetraodon ocelle, T. ocellatus. Le t. scelerat, T. scelreatus. La vieille, Balistes vetula. La petite vieille, { B. monoceros.--LINN. { Alutus monoceros.--CUVIER. Le coffre triangulaire, Ostracion trigonus.--BLOCH. La grande orphie, Esox Brasiliensis.--LINN. La petite orphie, E. marginatus.--LACEPEDE. Le congre, Muraena conger.--MINN. Le perroquet, Sparus psittacus.--LACEPEDE. Le capitaine, S. erythrinus.--BLOCH. La becune, Sphyraena becuna. Le thon, Scomber thynnus.--LINN. La carangue, Caranx carangus.

A work, in which a synonymous catalogue of all the fishes supposed to be poisonous might be found, would be highly desirable, as they generally bear different popular and scientific names, thus producing a dangerous confusion even amongst naturalists; how much more dangerous amongst seafaring people and voyagers!

I cannot conclude this article without noticing the singular properties of those electric fishes denominated the torpedo-ray and the gymnote. They had been long known to naturalists, and the ancients attributed their destructive faculties to a magic power that Oppian had recorded in his Alieuticon, where he describes a fisherman palsied through the hook, the line, and the rod. This influence being voluntary on the part of the animal, seemed to warrant the belief in its mischievous nature, since it allows itself sometimes to be touched with impunity, while at others it burrows itself under the sand of the beach, when the tide has receded, and maliciously benumbs the astonished passenger who walks over it. This singular fish, which is common in the Mediterranean Sea, has been described both by the Greek and Roman writers; amongst others, by Aristotle and Athenaeus: and Socrates, in his Dialogues, compares a powerful objection, to the influence of the torpedo.

This voluntary faculty has been observed by Lacepede and Cloquet in the Mediterranean, and at La Rochelle. In torpedos kept in water for experimental purposes, Reaumur found that he handled them without experiencing any shock for some time, until they at last appeared to become impatient: he then experienced a stunning sensation along the arm, not easily to be described, but resembling that which is felt when a limb has been struck with a sudden blow. One of the experiments of this naturalist proved the extensive power of this faculty. He placed a torpedo and a duck in a vessel containing sea-water, covered with linen to prevent the duck from escaping, without impeding the bird's respiration. At the expiration of a few minutes the animal was found dead, having been killed by the electric shocks of its enemy.

Redi was the first who demonstrated this faculty. Having laid hold of a torpedo recently caught, he had scarcely touched it, when he felt a creeping sensation shooting up to the shoulder, followed by an unpleasant tremor, with a lancinating pain in the elbow. These sensations he experienced as often as he touched the animal; but this faculty gradually decreased in strength as the animal became exhausted and dying. These experiments he related in a work entitled "Esperienze intorno a diverse cose naturali." Florence, 1671.

In 1774, Walsh made some very interesting experiments at the Isle of Re and La Rochelle, and clearly demonstrated this electric faculty in a paper On the electric property of the torpedo. In one of them he found that this fish could produce from forty to fifty shocks in the course of ninety minutes. The electrified individuals were isolated; and at each shock the animal gave, it appeared to labour under a sense of contraction, when its eyes sunk deep in their sockets.

The trichiurus electricus of Linnaeus, the rhinobatus electricus of Schneider, and the gymnonotus electricus of Surinam, are the species of this singular fish with which experiments have chiefly been made. The gymnonotus is a kind of eel, five or six feet in length, and its electric properties are so powerful that it can throw down men and horses. This animal is rendered more terrific from the velocity of his powers of natation, thus being able to discharge its thunder far and near. When touched with one hand the shock is slight; but when grasped with both, it is so violent that, according to the accounts of Collins Flag, the electric fluid can paralyze the arms of the imprudent experimentalist for several years. This electric action is analogous to that which is obtained by means of the fulminating plate, which is made of glass with metallic plates. Twenty-seven persons holding each other by the hands, and forming a chain, the extremities of which corresponded with the points of the fish's body, experienced a smart shock. These shocks are produced in quick succession, but become gradually weaker as the fluid appears to be exhausted. Humboldt informs us, that, to catch this fish, wild horses are driven into the water, and after having expended the fury and the vigour of the gymnonotus, fishermen step in and catch them either with nets or harpoons. Here we find that the irritable or sensorial power is exhausted through the medium of electricity. These phenomena may be attributed to an electric or Voltaic aura; and the organ of the animal that secretes the fluid resembles in its wonderful structure the Voltaic apparatus. Both the gymnote and the torpedo obey the laws of electricity, and their action is limited to the same conducting and non-conducting mediums. The electric sparks proceeding from the gymnote have been plainly seen in a dark chamber by Walsh, Pringle, Williamson, and others. The fish has four electric organs, two large and two small ones, extending on each side of the body from the abdomen to the end of the tail. These organs are of such a size that they constitute one third of the fish's bulk. Each of them is composed of a series of aponeurotic membranes, longitudinal, parallel, horizontal, and at about one line's distance from each other. Hunter counted thirty-four of these fasciculi in one of the largest. Other membranes or plates traverse these vertically, and nearly at a right angle; thus forming a plexus or net-work of numerous rhomboidal cells. Hunter found no less than two hundred and forty of these vertical plates in the space of eleven inches.

This apparatus, analogous to the Voltaic pile, is brought into action by a system of nerves rising from the spinal marrow, each vertebra giving out a branch; other branches, rising from a large nerve, running from the basis of the cranium to the extremity of the tail. All these ramifications are spread and developed in the cells of the electric organs, to transmit its powerful fluid, and strike with stupor or with death every animal that comes within its reach. Lacepede has justly compared this wonderful mechanism to a battery formed of a multitude of folio-electric pieces.

The electric organ of the malapterus electricus is of a different formation. This fish, found in the Nile and in other rivers of Africa, is called by the Arabs raash or thunder. In this animal the electric fluid extends all round the body, immediately under the integuments, and consists of a tissue of cellular fibres so dense, that it might be compared to a layer of bacon; but, when carefully examined, it consists of a series of fibres forming a complex net-work. These cells, like those in the gymnote, are lubricated with a mucous secretion. The nervous system of this intricate machinery is formed by the two long branches of the pneumo-gastric nerves, which in fishes usually run under each lateral line. Here, however, they approach each other on leaving the cranium, traversing the first vertebra.

Linnaeus had classed the torpedo in the genus ray, and hence called it raia torpedo. Later naturalists have restored to it its ancient name, as given by Pliny, and termed it torpedo, of which four species are described: the T. narke, or with five spots; the T. unimaculata, marked, as the name indicates, with one spot; the T. marmorata, and the T. Galvanni.

The ancients placed much faith in the medicinal properties of these fishes. Hippocrates recommends its roasted flesh in dropsies that follow liver affections. Dioscorides prescribed its application in cases of obstinate headaches and rheumatisms. Galen and other physicians recommend the application of the living animal; and Scribonius Largus states that the freedman Anteroes was cured of the gout by this practice. To this day, in Abyssinia, fever patients are tied down on a table, and a torpedo is applied to various parts of the body. This operation, it is affirmed, causes great pain, but is an infallible remedy.

MEMORY AND THE MENTAL FACULTIES.

This noble faculty, the proudest attribute of mankind, justly called the mother of the Muses, is subject to be impaired by various physical and moral causes, while a similar agency can sometimes restore it to its pristine energy, or develope its powers when sluggish and defective. Memory may be considered as the history of the past chronicled in our minds, to be consulted and called upon whenever circumstances stances or the strange complication of human interests demand its powerful aid. Its powers and nature widely differ, and these varieties depend upon education, natural capacities, mode of living, and pursuits. Thus memory has been divided into that faculty that applies to facts, and to that more superficial quality that embraces a recollection of things, to which must be added the memory of localities and words: "Lucullus habuit divinam quamdam memoriam rerum, verborum majorem Hortensius," said Cicero.

It is on this division that Aristotle founded his belief that the brute creation had not the faculty of reminiscence, although he allowed them to possess memory. According to his doctrine, reminiscence is the power of recollecting an object by means of a syllogistic chain of thought; an intellectual link with which animals do not seem to be gifted. Their memory appears solely to consist of the impressions received by the return of circumstances of a similar kind. Thus, a horse that has started on a certain part of a road will be apt to evince the same apprehension when passing the same spot. This is an instinctive fear, but not the result of calculation or the combination of former ideas. Reminiscence is the revival of memory by reflection; in short, the recovery or recollection of lost impressions.

The recollection of things or facts can alone bring forth a sound judgment. It implies a regular co-ordination of ideas, a catenation of reflections, in which circumstances are linked with each other. The chain broken, no conclusion can be drawn. Newton was wont to lose the thread of an important conversation when his mind was in search of an idea. This is the reason why the society of the learned is seldom entertaining to the generality of men. They are considered absent, while their brain is busily employed in pursuits perhaps of great importance; they must therefore be anything but agreeable to those who generally think through the medium of other persons' brains.

The brain is considered to be the seat of memory. When it is injured, remembrance is impaired; and, on the other hand, an accident has been known to improve the recollective faculties. A man remarkable for his bad memory fell from a considerable height upon his head; ever after he could recollect the most trifling circumstance. The effects of different maladies will also produce various results on this faculty. In some instances names of persons and things are completely forgotten or misapplied; at other times, words beginning with a vowel cannot be found. Sudden fright and cold have produced the same effects. An elderly man fell off his horse in crossing a ford in a winter's night; ever afterward he could not bring to his recollection the names of his wife and children, although he did not cease to recognise and love them as fondly as before the accident. Cold has been at all times considered injurious to memory; hence Paulus Aeginus called Oblivion the child of Cold.

In fevers, and a state of great debility, in a disordered condition of the digestive functions, and various affections of the head, we generally find that the attention cannot long be applied to any one subject or a continued train of thoughts; all past circumstances are readily forgotten, while passing occurrences are most acutely observed and felt, excepting in cases of delirium, when we have the perception of surrounding objects or receive an erroneous impression of their nature and agency. In many cases of this nature, we find that conversation produces great excitement and increases the evil, for the subject of such intercourse is generally misconceived and distorted through the medium of a morbid conception, while the past, the present, and the future are grouped in a confused and most heterogeneous and incoherent jumble.

Philosophers have endeavoured to fix the seat of memory in various portions of the brain. The ancients fancied that it was lodged in the posterior part of the cranium; having observed that when persons endeavoured to recollect any thing, they usually scratched the back part of the head. The Arabian physicians entertained a similar belief. Gratarola maintained that a great protuberance of the occiput indicated a good memory. Gall places it above the orbitary cavity of the eye, and even behind it. It has long been thought that persons with protuberant eyes had quick recollections. The physical condition of the brain has also been considered as materially affecting memory. What physiologists have called a moist brain was looked upon as unfavourable to its development; and it was therefore owing to the soft and pulpy condition of the cerebral organs in young children that the difficulty of impressing anything upon their minds arose; the same stupidity being observed in cases where water was supposed to be lodged in the brain. While this humid state was considered as injurious to memory, dryness of the organ was also esteemed an obstacle of a similar nature; and in old age it is by this state of siccity that failure in memory was attempted to be explained. This failure of memory as age advances may, however, be explained in a much more rational manner. Old people will bear in lively recollection the events that attended their childhood, their youth, and manhood; it is only recent occurrences that shed a transient impression on their minds. The cause of this may be considered to arise from the extreme impressionability that prevails in early life, when every organ is prompt in responding to each call upon its powers; when the charms of novelty tinge with a brighter, yet a more lasting lustre, all our pleasurable sensations; when grief had not yet wrung the young heart till its fibres became callous to future pangs, when perfidy and ingratitude have shown us that all is vanity, and calm philosophy has tutored our passions in the school of Adversity. Reason now sits upon the judgment-seat, and all that we then can wonder at that is, at any time we could have wondered at any thing. Why, then, are we to seek for a material theory of the mind, when our daily experience shows us that it is under the influence of so many moral agents?

We have, moreover, convincing proof that the brain may be materially affected, without any deterioration of the mental faculties. Dr. Ferriar mentions a man in whom the whole of the right hemisphere, that is, one half of the brain, was found destroyed, but who retained all his faculties till the very moment of his death. Diemerbrook states another case where half a pound of matter was found in the substance of the brain. O'Hallaran relates the history of a man who had suffered such an injury of the head, that a large portion of his brain was removed on the right side; and extensive suppuration having taken place, an immense quantity of pus, mixed with large masses of the substance of the brain, was discharged at each dressing, through the opening. This went on for seventeen days, and it appears that nearly one half of the brain was thrown out, mixed with the matter, yet the man retained all his intellectual faculties to the very last moment of his dissolution, and through the whole course of the disease, his mind maintained uniform tranquillity. I attended a soldier at Braburne Lees, who had received a wound in the head during ball practice. The ball remained in the brain, and during three weeks large masses of brainular substance were brought away with pus. To the last day of his life he would relate, with every circumstantial particular, the neglect of the comrade by whom he had been wounded, and who fired while he was running to the target to mark the shots. It is somewhat singular, but suppuration of the brain is more offensive than the foulest ulcer, and it is with great difficulty that the pestilential effluvia can be tolerated. These cases plainly show that cerebral diseases have but little influence on the manifestations of the mind.

Amongst the many curious doctrines that have been started, to account for the operations of memory, some philosophers have compared it to the art of engraving; pretending that on those subjects where it requires much time and trouble to work an impression it was more durable, while it was only traced in a superficial manner on those brains that were ever ready and soft to receive this plastic influence. These several faculties they therefore compared to bronze or marble, to butter and to wax. Descartes, following up the phantasy, compared recollection to etching, and said that the animal spirits, being passed over the lines previously traced, brought them more powerfully to the mind; thus comparing the brain to the varnished copper-plate over which the engraver passes his mordants. Malebranche endeavoured to establish another doctrine, and compared our cerebral organ to an instrument formed of a series of fibres, so arranged, that when any recent emotion agitated one of these chords the others would immediately be thrown into vibration, renewing a past chain of ideas. As these chords became less flexible in old age, of course these vibrations were more difficult to obtain. Recollection was also considered an attribute of each molecule of the brain; and Bonnet endeavoured to count how many hundred ideas each molecule was capable of holding during a long life.

The controversies of learned psychologists on the relation of memory and judgment, indeed on the analogies that exist between our several mental faculties, have been as various as they are likely to prove interminable. Without offending these illustrious controversionalists, we may endeavour to enumerate these faculties, which, despite the ingenuity of theorists, appear in a practical point of view to exercise a wonderful influence upon each other. The first may be considered the faculty of perception, assisted by that of attention, to which we are indebted for our ideas. These are preserved and called into action from the rich stores of the mind by memory, justly called by Cicero the guardian of the other faculties. Imagination is the faculty of the mind that represents the images of remembered objects as if they were actually present. Abstraction forms general deductions from the foregoing faculties; while judgment compares and examines the analogies and relations of the ideas of sense and of abstract notions. Finally, reason draws inferences from the comparisons of judgment.

It is from the combination and the workings of these wonderful powers that appetency, desires, aversions, and volition arise. Appetency occasions desires, and these, when disappointed or satiated, inevitably usher in aversions and antipathies; although, as we shall see in another article, our antipathies are frequently instinctive, and not arising from any combination of the faculties I have enumerated.

Dr. Gall has considered these mental faculties as fundamental; and in this view he was certainly correct, since they may be considered the source whence all other distinct capacities are probably formed by particular habits of study and the nature of our pursuits, independently of those specific capacities which appear to be innate, and, according to the system of the phrenologists, organic. Every man possesses these fundamental faculties in a greater or less degree, according to the obtuseness or the energies of his mind; but it is absurd to conceive that specific capacities can be brought into action without the agency of those which are fundamental. Let us take the instinct to destroy life, the sentiment of property, metaphysical sagacity, or poetic talent,--in short, any one of Gall's various faculties; can we for one instant conceive that they are not under the influence of perception, memory, imagination, and abstraction, although they may not be properly ruled by judgment and by reason? Instincts are equally under a similar influence, and are, according to circumstances, regulated by judgment in the various modes of life of animals. Phrenologists deny that instinct is a general faculty, and assert that it is an inherent disposition to activity possessed by every faculty, and that there are as many instincts as fundamental faculties. This is a postulation by no means clear. Instinct is an inherent disposition possessed by every animal, but not by every faculty. It is a disposition dependent upon the combination of all the mental faculties, according to the degree in which the animal may possess them: the reminiscences of animals prove it. We have instanced the horse, who endowed with the memory of locality, starts when passing by the same spot where he had started before. But here the memory of facts, memoria realis, and probably of words, memoria verbalis, are superadded to the memoria localis. The horse recollects the tree, the carrion, the object that startled him, whatever it might have been; but to this reminiscence are associated the chiding, the punishment he received from his rider. If this horse had possessed the faculties of abstraction, judgment, and reason, he would not have started, to avoid a reiteration of punishment; but he started under the impression of perception, attention, and memory. Wherever there does not exist a combination of the faculties, the intellectual ones may be considered imperfect. We certainly may have a greater perception and memory of one subject than of others. Thus, a man with a musical organisation will recollect any tune he may have heard, though it may not have attracted the attention of one who "hath no music in his soul." We daily perceive different talents in children educated together. This is, no doubt, a strong corroboration of the doctrine of organic dispositions, which in reality no philosophic observer can deny; but to assert that these several dispositions are not regulated by what have been called the fundamental faculties, is, I apprehend, a position that cannot well be maintained; and we may be warranted in the conclusion that a particular faculty may be the result of the combined action of several faculties, if not of all; for, whether a man be a poet or a painter, a miser or a spendthrift, an affectionate father or an assassin, every one of the mental faculties that I have enumerated will to a certain extent be brought into action, however morbid that action may be.

All these disquisitions, however attractive they may be, when decked out with the fascination of the fancy, are the mere wanderings of metaphysical speculation, that never can be proved or refuted until we attain a knowledge of the nature and quality of the perceptions which material objects produce in the mind through the medium of the external senses. But while some of these speculations are idle and harmless, others may be fraught with danger, and occasion much misery to society. Let us for one moment conceive the possibility of our resolves and actions being dictated by a supposed phrenological knowledge,--a knowledge earnestly recommended to statesmen, and indeed to mankind in general;--what would be the result? A diplomatic bungler would be sent on an embassy, because a minister, or a sovereign, with a phrenological map before him, may fancy that he displays the faculty of circumspection, or the sense of things; and a chancellor of the exchequer be found in some needy adventurer who possessed the organ of relation of numbers!

I do not at all presume to invalidate the statements of Dr. Gall. The profession is highly indebted to him for his accurate description of the brain; and physiology must ever consider him as one of the brightest ornaments of science: but I do maintain, that to recommend his conclusions as a guide to society would be the most rash of visionary speculations; and, to my personal knowledge, no man was ever more mistaken in his estimate of the persons whom he met in society than the learned doctor himself. Of this I had frequent opportunities of convincing myself, when I met him in Paris in the circle of a Russian family which he daily visited. If I could admit, with a late ingenious writer, "that phrenology teaches the true nature of man, and that its importance in medicine, education, jurisprudence, and everything relating to society and conduct must be at once apparent," I should certainly agree with him in recommending its study to parents, judges, and juries; but for the present, I am inclined to believe that, although it may prove a most interesting and valuable pursuit to the physiologist, it is by no means calculated to be the vade mecum of any liberal man.

The memory of various persons is amazing, and has been remarked in ancient times with much surprise. Cyrus knew the name of every soldier in his army. Mithridates, who had troops of twenty-two nations serving under his banners, became a proficient in the language of each country. Cyneas, sent on a mission to Rome by Pyrrhus, made himself acquainted in two days with the names of all the senators and the principal citizens. Appius Claudius and the Emperor Hadrian, according to Seneca, could recite two thousand words in the order they had heard them, and afterwards repeat them from the end to the beginning. Portius Latro could deliver all the speeches he had hastily written without any study.

Esdras is stated by historians to have restored the sacred Hebrew volumes by memory when they had been destroyed by the Chaldeans; and, according to Eusebius, it is to his sole recollection that we are indebted for that part of Holy Writ. St. Anthony, the Egyptian hermit, although he could not read, knew the whole Scripture by heart: and St. Jerome mentions one Neopolien, an illiterate soldier, who, anxious to enter into monastic orders, learned to recite the works of all the fathers, and obtained the name of the Living Dictionary of Christianity; while St. Antonius, the Florentine, at the age of sixteen, could repeat all the Papal Bulls, the Decrees of Councils, and the Canons of the Church, without missing a word. Pope Clement V. owed his prodigious memory to a fall on his head. This accident at first had impaired this faculty; but by dint of application he endeavoured to recover its powers, and he succeeded so completely, that Petrarch informs us he never forgot anything that he had read. John Pico de la Mirandola, justly considered a prodigy, could maintain a thesis on any subject,--de omni re scibili,--when a mere child; and when verses were read to him, he could repeat them backward. Joseph Scaliger learned his Homer in twenty-one days, and all the Latin poets in four months. Haller mentions a German scholar, of the name of Muller, who could speak twenty languages correctly. Our own literary annals record many instances of this wonderful faculty.

To fortify this function when naturally weak, or to restore it to its pristine energy when enfeebled by any peculiar circumstances, has been long considered an essential study both by the philosopher and the physician. Reduced to an art, this pursuit has received the name of Mnemonia; and at various periods professors of it, more or less distinguished by their success, have appeared in the several capitals of Europe.

It has been justly observed, that remembrance is to the past what our sensations are to the present, and our busy conjectures to futurity. Memory gives a lesson to mankind, by stripping past events of their prestige; thus enabling us to view what passes around us with a more calm and philosophic resignation, while at the same time it tends to protect us, in the career lying before us, against the many contingencies that are likely to impede our path. Although it might appear desirable that we could obliterate from the mind the painful scenes of our past life, yet the wisdom of the Creator has deemed this faculty as necessary to our happiness as our utter ignorance of our future destiny. For let us mistake not by a hasty glance on this most important subject; the remembrance of past sufferings is not always painful. On the contrary, there is that which is holy in our past sorrows, that tends to produce a calm, nay a pleasurable sensation of gratitude. St. Theresa beautifully expressed this hallowed feeling when she exclaimed, "Where are those blissful days when I felt so unhappy!" Et olim meminisse juvabit.

Memory depends in a great measure on the vivacity with which these past scenes are retraced--I may say re-transmitted to the mind, in ideal forms "as palpable" as those that may be present. Therefore reminiscence may be said to result from a connexion between ideas and images recalled into being by a regular succession of expressive signs that the brute creation do not possess. Those characteristic signs and images that are generally circumstantial are co-ordained and classified in the mind, and tend materially in weak memories to produce an artificial mode of recollecting the past. This faculty is therefore matured by habit. A literary man, whose library is properly classed, will find the book he wants in the dark. The classification of his books is ever present to his mind. These circumstantial signs are always remembered by a sort of association in our ideas. Thus Descartes, who fondly loved a girl who squinted, was always affected with strabismus when speaking of her. When we first see a person in any particular costume, the individual is clad in the same apparel whenever brought to our minds, even after a lapse of many years, when fashion has banished even from general recollection the costume that memory thus retraces individually. From these observations it has been concluded that the most probable method of improving memory would be to regulate these associations by a proper classification. One link of this ideal chain will naturally lead to another. Many military men, to recollect any number, will associate it with that of a regiment, so far at least as the number of regiments extend; and the recollection of this particular regiment will not only bring to his mind the number of the house he seeks, but various other circumstances connected both with the regiment and the number. For instance, I wish to recollect No. 87 in a certain street. I had, when the number was mentioned to me, attached it to the 87th regiment; and instantly I not only recollect that the 87th regiment are the Irish Fusiliers, but that they took an eagle at Barossa, where they distinguished themselves, and that the figure of that eagle is borne upon all the appointments of the corps. At the same moment, with the rapidity of lightning I recollect all the circumstances of the battle of Barossa; the different conversations I may have had at various times with the officers of the 87th; the town, the camp, the bivouac where I last had met them. Thus are innumerable circumstances instantaneously converging in a mental focus while simply seeking for the lodgings of an individual. This may be called the memory of locality, since it is locality that revives the recollection of it.

This train of thought has also been called the memory of association, and associations have been referred to three classes:--

I. Natural or philosophical associations.

II. Local or incidental associations.

III. Arbitrary or fictitious associations.

Dr. Abercrombie has admirably treated this subject, and I refer the reader to his interesting work.[44] The poet Simonides is said to have been the founder of the mnemonic art. Cicero informs us, that, supping one night with a noble Thessalian, he was called out by two of his acquaintance, and while in conversation with them the roof of the house fell in, and crushed to death all the guests he had left at table. When the bodies were sought for, they were so disfigured by the accident that they could not be recognised even by their nearest friends; but Simonides identified them all, by merely recollecting the seats they had held at the banquet.

Cicero and Quintilian adopted his system, connecting the ideas of a discourse with certain figures. The different parts of the hilt of a sword, for instance, might regulate the details of a battle; the different parts of a tree associate the relations of a journey. Other mnemonic teachers recommended the division of ideas to correspond with the distribution of a house; while some of them refreshed the memory by associations connected with the fingers and other parts of the hand. Cicero expresses himself plainly on this subject: "Qui multa voluerit meminisse, multa sibi loca comparet: oportet multos comparare locos, ut in multis locis multas imagines collocemus."

The celebrated Feinagle who delivered lectures on memory had adopted the system of aiding the memory by dates, changing the figures in the dates into the letters of the alphabet corresponding to them in number. These letters were then formed into a word to be in some way associated with the date to be remembered--for instance--Henry IV., King of England, was born in the year 1366. This date changed into letters makes mff which was very easily changed into the word muff--the method is not so obvious of establishing with this a relation to Henry IV., but Hen_ry_ IV., says Mr. Feinagle, means four hens, and we put them in a muff, one in each corner, and no one after hearing this is in any danger of forgetting the date of Henry IV.'s birth.

Learning poetry by heart in infancy and youth is perhaps one of the best methods of improving memory, since it lays the early foundation of a classification of words and ideas. Virgil has justly said, "Numeros memini, si verba tenerem." To abridge, resume, and analyze what we have read or heard, is another practice highly beneficial; for, the more clearly we comprehend a subject, the deeper will it remain engraved in our memory. Reading what we wish to recollect before going to bed will materially assist the memory. We sleep over the impressions we have received, and dreams alone can weaken them. From this very reason we can write with more facility upon subjects that require much mental exertion in the morning, fasting, when the mind has not been disturbed by the events of the day, and when the functions of digestion have not drawn upon our faculties, too frequently with the lavishness of a spendthrift. It is somewhat singular, but, despite the interruption of dreams, our ideas are matured during our sleep. Quintilian expresses himself as follows on this subject: "Mirum dictu est quantum nox interposita adferat firmitatis, sive quiescit labor ille cujus sibi ipsa fatigatio obstabat, sive maturatur ac coquatur, seu firmissima ejus pars est recordatio. Quae statim referri non poterant, contexuntur postero die, confirmatque memoriam idem illud tempus quod esse in causa solet oblivionis."

Memory is subject to be variously disturbed in certain maladies. There is an affection called amnesia, in which it utterly fails, and another termed dysmnesia, when it is defective. Failure of memory is generally more manifest on some subjects than on others. Salmuth relates the case of a man who had forgotten to pronounce words, although he could write them. Another person could only recollect the first syllables. An old man had forgotten all the past events of his life, unless recalled to his recollection by some occurrence; yet every night he regularly recollected some one particular circumstance of his early days. A curious anecdote is recorded of an elderly gentleman who had fallen into the meshes of an artful courtesan, and who frequently took his own wife for this insidious acquaintance, frequently saying to her, "Madam, I feel that I am doing wrong by devoting to you so much of my time, for, when a man has a wife and children, such conduct is unpardonable;" and, after this polite observation, he took up his hat, and would have walked off, had not his wife, wise enough not to manifest displeasure, contrived to undeceive him.

Dietrich mentions a patient who remembered facts, but had totally forgotten words; while another could write, although he had lost the faculty of reading. Old men are frequently met with who confound substantives, and will call their snuff-box a cane, and their watch a hat. In other cases letters are transposed, and a musician has called his flute a tufle. Dr. Abercrombie relates the case of a gentleman who uniformly called his snuff-box a hogshead. In Virginia he had been a trader in tobacco, so that the transition from snuff to tobacco, and from tobacco to a hogshead seemed to be natural. Another person, affected in a similar manner, always called for paper when he wanted coals, and coals when he needed paper. Others are known to invent names and unintelligible words. Some curious anagrams have been made by these irregularities. John Hunter was suddenly attacked with a loss of memory, which is thus related by Sir Everard Home: "He was at the time on a visit at the house of a friend. He did not know in what part of the house he was, not even the name of the street when he was told, nor where his own house was. He had not a conception of anything existing beyond the room in which he was, and yet he was perfectly conscious of the loss of memory. He was sensible of impressions of all kinds from the senses, and therefore looked out of the window, although rather dark, to see if he could be made sensible of the situation of the house. The loss of memory gradually went off, and in less than half an hour his memory was perfectly recovered." Such momentary accidents I have frequently observed in gouty patients; and for a second or two I have myself experienced the sensation, which was for the moment of a most alarming nature. Hunter was subject to arthritic attacks.

Corvinus Messala lost his memory for two years, and in his old age could not remember his own name. This is an occurrence by no means uncommon; and I knew a person in perfect health who could only recollect his name by writing it. We frequently see individuals who, although they are generally correct orthographers, cannot sometimes spell a simple conjunction. An anecdote is related in the Psychological Magazine of a German statesman, who having called at a gentleman's house, the servants of which not knowing him, was asked for his name, which he had, however, so totally forgotten, that he was under the necessity of turning round to a friend and saying with great earnestness, "Pray tell me who I am, for I cannot recollect."

Cases are recorded of the forgetfulness of a language constantly spoken, while one nearly forgotten from want of practice was recovered. A patient in St. Thomas's Hospital, who had been admitted with a brain-fever, on his recovery spoke an unknown language to his attendants. A Welsh milkman happened to be in the ward, and recognised his native dialect; although the patient had left Wales in early youth, had resided thirty years in England, and had nearly forgotten his native tongue. Boerhaave relates a curious case of a Spanish poet, author of several excellent tragedies, who had so completely lost his memory in consequence of an acute fever, that he not only had forgotten the languages he had formerly cultivated, but even the alphabet, and was obliged to begin again to learn to read. His own former productions were shown to him, but he could not recognise them. Afterwards, however, he began once more to compose verses, which bore so striking a resemblance to his former writings, that he at length became convinced of his having been the author of them.

Dr. Abercrombie relates the case of an aged gentleman, who, in an attack of the head, had almost forgotten the English language, and expressed himself in a mixed dialect of French, Italian, Spanish, German, and Turkish. Having been some time afterwards severely burnt about the head, by setting fire to the curtains of his bed, he was observed to make use of some English words; this being followed by a course of blistering, he continued to speak more English, but only occasionally and in very short sentences. These were sometimes correctly applied, but at other times most erroneously; for instance, having been taken to see a small house, he observed, "it is very neat, but it is a very little child."

Dr. Beattie mentions the case of a clergyman who, on his recovery from an apoplectic attack, had exactly forgotten a period of four years; and Dr. Abercrombie records a lady who had thus forgotten ten or twelve years of her life. Wepfer mentions a gentleman, who on recovery from an apoplectic attack, was found to know nobody and remember nothing. After several weeks he began to know his friends, to remember words, to repeat the Lord's Prayer, and to read a few words of Latin, rather than German, his native language. When urged to read more than a few words at a time, he said that he formerly understood those things, but now did not. After some time he began to pay more attention to what was passing around him, but while thus making slight and gradual progress, he was, after a few months, suddenly cut off by another attack of apoplexy. Dr. Beattie relates the case of a gentleman who, after a blow on the head, lost his knowledge of Greek, and did not appear to have lost any thing else.

Loss of memory has been observed as a frequent occurrence after the prevalence of pestilential diseases. Thucydides relates, that after the plague of Athens several of the inhabitants forgot their own names and those of their parents and friends. After the disastrous retreat of the French army in Russia, and the disease which swept away so many of their troops at Wilna, many of the survivors had no recollection of country or of home. Injuries of the head appear to occasion different results. This circumstance was observed by the ancients. Valerius Maximus relates the case of an Athenian, who, being struck on the head with a stone, forgot all literary attainments, although he preserved the recollection of other matters. A man wounded with a sword in the eye completely forgot Greek and Latin, in which he had formerly been a proficient. A young man, having fallen off his horse and contused his head, lost his memory to such an extent, that he would repeat a question a hundred times over, although the very first interrogation had been answered. He had not the slightest recollection of his accident. Epileptic and paralytic attacks frequently usher in this melancholy result, which has also been often observed after child-birth.

Dr. Abercrombie knew a lady who was seized with an apoplectic fit while engaged at cards; the attack took place on a Thursday evening--she lay in a state of stupor on Friday and Saturday, and recovered her consciousness rather suddenly on Sunday. The first words she then uttered were, "What is trump?"

Dr. Conolly mentions a young clergyman who, when on the point of being married, suffered an injury of the head, by which his understanding became impaired. He lived in this condition to the advanced age of eighty, and to the last day of his existence, spoke of nothing but his approaching wedding, expressing impatience for the arrival of the happy day.

A singular instance of forgetfulness is related of a lady who had been united to a man she loved, after much opposition on the part of her family, and who lost her memory after the birth of a child. She could not be made to recollect any circumstance that had occurred since her marriage; nor could she recognise her husband or her infant, both of whom she maintained were utter strangers to her. At first she repulsed them with apparent horror, but was at last, by the entreaties of her family, induced to believe that she was a wife and a mother; and although she yielded to their solicitations, yet for years she could not persuade herself that their assertions were correct, as she actually was convinced "against her will." In this instance disease not only destroyed memory, but affection.

The case of Dr. Broussonnet was remarkable. An accident he had met with in the Pyrenees brought on an apoplectic attack. When he recovered, he could neither write nor pronounce correctly any substantives or personal names either in French or Latin, while adjectives and epithets crowded in his mind. Thus, when speaking of a person, he would describe his appearance, his qualities, and, without pronouncing the word "coat," would name its colour. In his botanical pursuits he could point out the form and colour of plants, but had not the power of naming them. A Parisian merchant, after severe losses, experienced such a failure in recollection, that he was constantly guilty of the most absurd anachronisms;--would talk of the battles of Louis the Fourteenth with Alexander the Great, and describe Charles the Twelfth ascending triumphantly Mount Valerian; and one night, after witnessing the performance of Talma, could not be persuaded that he had not applauded Lekain.

Sudden fright has also obliterated this faculty. Artemidorus lost his memory from the terror inspired by treading on a crocodile. Bleeding has produced the same effects; while, on the other hand, blood-letting has restored an absent man to perfect recollection. Various venenose substances have also been said to produce amnesia. History records several instances of the kind. The soldiers of Anthony, on their return from the Parthian war, were attacked with loss of memory after eating some poisonous plants on their march. Bamba, king of the Goths, was suddenly deprived of all recollection after taking a draught presented to him by Eringius. Plater and Baldinger attributed a similar accident to the use of hemlock and arsenic. Narcotics, no doubt, may produce similar effects, but they will be of a transient nature; I do not know that this injurious power has been detected in any other productions, as the cases related by writers are not supported by sufficient authority to be entitled to unqualified belief.

The cause of these affections will most probably ever be unknown. Equally futile have proved all the endeavours to ascertain in what part of the brain memory is seated, since we have found some physiologists lodging this wonderful faculty in the posterior, and others in the anterior portion of the cranium. I apprehend that we might torture the brute creation, from the elephant down to the lowest reptile, for centuries, without being able to ascertain this point; and even could we attain this information, cui bono? Would it protect this privileged quarter of the cerebral organ from the action of external agency, or restore it to its healthy functions when diseased? The mode in which our mental faculties are developed is an impenetrable mystery; and, instead of vainly endeavouring to raise the mystic veil to gratify our curiosity, or rather our vanity, let us endeavour to apply these functions to the use for which they were intended by the allwise Creator, and exert them for the purpose of increasing the prosperity, or at any rate in endeavouring to diminish the sum of sufferings of his creatures, whether they be our fellow-men or the divers races that are submitted to our capricious power.

AFFECTIONS OF THE SIGHT.

The different terms applied to the various morbid affections of vision have been frequently misconceived, and consequently have occasioned much confusion in their application. Those vitiated conditions which are usually noticed may be classed as follows:

I. Night sight. II. Day sight. III. Long sight. IV. Short sight. V. Skew sight. VI. False sight.

Night sight, specifically called Lucifuga, was also termed Nyctalopia, from [Greek: nyx], night, and [Greek: ops], eye; it was also known as the Noctem amans. This affection was thus named in consequence of the person labouring under it being only able to see at night, or in a deep shade; hence the first name: while nyctalopia has been used by most modern writers in the opposite sense of night-sight ache, agreeably, according to Mason Good's observations, to the technical or implied meaning of opia, in which case it always applies to a diseased vision; whence nyctalopia has been made to import day sight, instead of night sight.

This disease appears to be dependent upon a peculiar irritability of the retina, produced by two different causes,--a sudden exposure to a stronger light than the eye has been accustomed to bear, or a deficiency of the black pigment which lines the choroid tunic. If the iris be weak and torpid, it is enlarged; if strong and contracted, diminished. Thus, those who from peculiar circumstances reside in dark caverns and subterraneous abodes, or who have long been confined in obscure dungeons, labour under the first of these causes; instances of which were observed in two of the captives liberated from the Bastille in 1789.

Ramazzini informs us that this affection is commonly observed among the Italian peasants, amongst whom he was not able to trace any other peculiarity than an enlargement of the pupil. This state of the vision, however, has been attributed to the peculiar brightness of the Italian sky, its clear atmosphere, and the relaxing warmth of the temperature. The Italian peasants are therefore constantly exposed to all those causes that tend to debilitate the iris, while they irritate the retina. We thus find these causes acting with renewed power at the season when the disease usually makes its attack,--the vernal equinox, when an increased flood of solar rays breaks on them. Such is the dimness that this brightness produces, that the peasantry frequently lose their way in the fields in the glare of day; but on the approach of night they can see distinctly. Hence are they obliged to remain for some weeks in the shade to recover their sight.

A deficiency of the black pigment of the eye is occasionally found in persons of a very fair complexion and light hair. This affection is therefore common in the Albinoes. This circumstance arises from the whiteness of the eyelashes and hair, whereby the retina is deprived of the natural shade that softens the light in its descent. This debilitated race generally inhabit warm and damp regions; they are seldom long-lived, and frequently low-spirited and morose. The iris is of a pink colour, and this circumstance, added to the constant winking that the weakness of the organ occasions, gives them a distressing appearance. In horses, this want of the dark pigment constitutes what is called the wall eye.

Acuteness in night vision is natural to most, if not to all, animals that prowl in the dark. In the feline genus we observe that the iris can be contracted much closer than in mankind, when exposed to a vivid glare; but they also expand to a much greater degree when obscurity sets in. Owls, bats, and many insects, possess a similar faculty.

Day sight, the nyctalopia of some authors, is said to be endemic in some countries,--Poland, the West Indies, Brazil, and various intertropical regions. This affection arises from causes totally different from the former one. Here the eye is habitually exposed to too great a flood of light, whence the retina becomes torpid. It has been said to be endemic in some districts of France, particularly in the neighbourhood of Roche Guyon, on the banks of the Seine; but here the soil is of a dazzling white: and as it makes its attacks in the spring, and continues for three months, it is supposed to arise from the keenness of the reflected light, after the dreary winter months.

This disease has also been commonly observed in Russia, especially in the summer, when the eye is exposed, with scarcely any intermission, to the constant action of light, as the sun dips but little below the horizon, and there is scarcely any interval of darkness. Hens are subject to this affection, and cannot see to pick up their food in the dusk of the evening. The complaint is, from this circumstance, called hen blindness.

Dr. Heberden has communicated the following curious case of this species of affection: "A man about forty years old had in the spring a tertian fever, for which he took too small a quantity of bark, so that the returns of it were weakened without being removed. Three days after his last fit, being then employed on board a ship in the river, he observed at sun-setting that all objects began to look blue, which blueness gradually thickened into a cloud; and not long after he became so blind as hardly to perceive the light of a candle. The next morning about sunrising his sight was restored as perfectly as ever. When the next night came on, he lost his sight again in the same manner, and this continued for twelve days and nights. He then came ashore, where the disorder of his eyes gradually abated, and in three days was entirely gone. A month after he went on board another ship, and after three days' stay in it the night blindness returned as before, and lasted all the time of his remaining in the ship, which was nine nights. He then left the ship, and his blindness did not return while he was upon land. Some little time afterwards he went into another ship, in which he continued for ten days, during which time the blindness returned only two nights, and never afterwards." It appears, however, that this individual had previously laboured under an affection produced by the use of lead, which had left him in a state of much nervous debility. Notwithstanding this circumstance, this case clearly proves that the affection is liable to be increased and brought on by local influence.

Long sight. In this species of vision the iris is habitually dilated, and not easily stimulated into contraction. Several varieties of this affection have been observed. Dr. Wells, in the Philosophical Transactions, relates the case of a young person who, from a permanent dilatation of the pupil, saw near objects with much difficulty and confusion, but remote bodies with singular accuracy. The power of moving the upper lid was completely lost. This dilatation of the pupil, which may be artificially produced by the application of belladonna, can be remedied by the use of convex glasses.

Short sight. In this case the iris is contracted, and the cornea, which in long sight is too much flattened, is too convex or polarised; therefore spectacles of an opposite character, and with concave glasses, become necessary. Mice are said to be short-sighted; hence the affection has been termed myopia or myopiasis, literally "mouse-sight."

Skew sight, or sight askew, is a condition of our vision only accurate when the object is placed obliquely, in consequence of some partial obfuscation of the cornea, frequently from slight scars, scarcely, if at all, observable. In this lateral vision the axis of the eye affected usually coincides with that of the sound eye. In squinting, on the contrary, the two axes do not coincide.

In false sight, imaginary objects float before the sight; or, at other times, objects assume imaginary forms and qualities. The latter species has been divided in cases where the objects that are supposed to be seen have no real existence, and in cases where actual objects have assumed qualities that do not appertain to them. The first are termed ocular phantasms or spectres; the latter, ocular transmutations or illusions. These spectres sometimes form dark spots, called by physicians muscae volitantes. In another species, a net-work seems to be spread before the eyes; hence called visus reticularis. In a third form sparks scintillate, and this appearance is experienced when the eye has been struck. The eye is also troubled with an imaginary sense of dazzling, constituting the myrmaryge of the Greek writers; at other times, an iridescent appearance, exhibiting the colours of the rainbow, is experienced, although sometimes this impression is confined to a single colour. Dr. Heberden relates the case of a lady of advanced age, lodging on the eastern coast of Kent, in a house that looked immediately upon the sea, and exposed to the glare of the morning sun. The curtains of her room were white, a circumstance which added to the intensity of the light. When she had been there about ten days, she observed one evening, at the time of sunset, that first the fringes of the clouds appeared red, and soon after the same colour was diffused over all the objects around her, especially if they were white. This lasted the whole night, but in the morning her sight was again perfect. This alternation of morbid and sound sight prevailed the whole time the lady resided on the coast, which was three weeks; and for nearly as long after she left it, at which time it ceased suddenly of its own accord.

There exists another variety of false sight, that Plenk has denominated metamorphopsia, and in which objects appear changed in their natural qualities, producing error of form, error of motion, error of number, and error of colour. I had a patient in Lisbon who fancied that all the horses he saw carried horns or extensive antlers. A young lady whom I attended beheld every one of a gigantic height. Dr. Priestley has given a curious case of error of colour in five brothers and two sisters, all adults. One of the brothers could form no idea whatever of colours, though he judged very accurately of the form and other qualities of objects; hence he thought stockings were sufficiently distinguished by the name of stockings, and could not conceive the necessity of calling them white or black. He could perceive cherries on a tree; but only distinguished them, even when red-ripe, from the surrounding leaves by their size and shape. One of the brothers appeared to have a faint sense of a few colours, but still a very imperfect notion; and, upon the whole, they did not seem to possess any other distinguishing power than that of light and shade, into which they resolved all the colours presented to them,--so that dove or straw colour were regarded as white; and green, crimson, and purple, as black or dark. On looking at a rainbow, one of them could distinguish that it consisted of stripes, but nothing more. Dr. Nicholl relates the case of a boy who confounded green with red; and called light red and pink, blue. His maternal grandfather and one uncle had the same imperfection. The latter was in the navy, and having a blue coat and waistcoat, purchased a pair of red breeches to match. The same physician knew a gentleman who could not distinguish green from red; a cucumber and a boiled lobster did not offer the least difference in colour. His brother and his niece laboured under a similar affection.

Some philosophers are of opinion, that in the power of conceiving colours there is a striking difference in individuals, and are inclined to think that in many instances the supposed defects of sight ought to be ascribed to a defect in the power of conception, arising probably from some early habit of inattention. This theory is scarcely tenable. The utmost inattention and indifference regarding surrounding objects could never lead to a delusive view of any colour; also, it is more than probable that, in the case of a child in whom such a defective vision was observed, his attention would be incessantly called on by those around him, to correct, if possible, so strange a delusion. Moreover, this defect of vision, as we have seen, appears in some instances to be hereditary; and to prevail in families.

Phrenologists of course are of opinion that the judgment of colours resides in a particular organ, remarkably full and prominent in painters distinguished by the perfection of their colouring. According to Gall, a local deficiency of brain is observable where the power of distinguishing colours is wanting.

The sense of vision exhibits more variety in the different classes of animals than any of the others. In man, and the greater number of quadrupeds, this organ is guarded by an upper and a lower lid, both of which in man are fringed with lashes. This is not the case in most quadrupeds. In the elephant, opossum, seal, cats, other mammalia, birds, and all fishes, we find a third eyelid, or nictitating membrane, as it is called, arising from the internal angle of the eye, capable of covering and protecting the eye from danger, either wholly or in part. In the dog this membrane is narrow; in oxen and horses it extends half over the eyeball. It is by means of this veil that eagles are capable of fixing their eyes on the noon-day sun. The largest eyes in proportion to the size of the animal are found in birds,--nearly the smallest in whales; but the most diminutive are those of the shrew and mole, the latter's not exceeding the size of a pin's head.

The situation of the organs of vision differs materially. In man and monkeys they are placed directly under the forehead; in some fishes, such as the turbot and flounder tribes, both eyes are placed in the same side of the head. In the snail they are situated on the horns; and in the spider, distributed over various points of the body, and in different arrangements.

Eyes, however, are not indispensable to become sensible of the presence of light. Several zoophytes, that do not possess the organs of vision, are perfectly alive to its influence. A distinct organ is not always indispensable for a distinct sense. It is probable that in those animals that appear to be endowed with particular senses, without displaying particular organs relating to them, the senses are diffused like that of touch, over the whole surface. This subject has been admirably commented on by Cuvier.

HELLEBORE.

From time immemorial this substance has been considered an efficacious remedy in mania. The Greeks pretended that the daughters of Proetus, smitten with insanity by Bacchus, were restored to reason by the shepherd Melampus, who gave them some milk drawn from goats that had eaten hellebore. It is supposed that the use of purgatives arose from this fabulous tradition, whence this plant was called melampodium.

The ancients described two varieties, the white and the black. The first, according to Theophrastus, was found on a part of Mount Oeta called Pyra, on which the body of Hercules was burnt. It is not certain whether they confounded our hellebore with our veratrum. Pinel supposes that the veratrum album was their hellebore, as it is not probable that the veratrum nigrum should have been thus confounded. Tournefort, in his travels in the Levant, fancied that he had discovered the root of the ancients in one that the Turks called zopteme, which answered in its character to the description recorded in older writers.

Howbeit, it was considered a powerful purgative and emetic, especially indicated in the treatment of mental affections. Celsus forbade its exhibition in summer and during the winter, or whenever febrile symptoms were prevalent. This precaution, however, applied to all purgative medicines; and to this day, in several parts of the continent, similar injunctions are usual; and even in France practitioners of the old school prepare a patient several days before any opening medicine is given,--a learned precaution, that has but too frequently rendered every medicine useless.

The exhibition of this drug was a matter of so much importance amongst the ancients, that it was specifically termed helleborism; and it was considered of so powerful a nature in mania, that the treatment of the malady was called navigare Anticyras, since it was near the town of Anticyras that the plant was generally gathered. If this process of helleborism proved efficacious, it is more than probable that its beneficial results proceeded from the violent evacuations that preceded it. The following was the mode adopted with the helleborised: The patient was first well fed for several days until the decline of the moon, when a powerful emetic was given to him; five days after a similar dose was prescribed, and then good living ordered for a month: at the expiration of this invigorating respite, emetics began again to work him every three days. After the last attack on his digestive head-quarters, he was bathed, fed again, and hellebore was given after he had been submitted to several hours' friction with olive oil. The emetics were invariably administered on a full stomach, which was cleared either by medicine or the excitement of the beard of a quill poked down the unfortunate patient's throat. At other times, (by way, no doubt, of variety,) rejection was excited by making the patient eat a pound or more of horseradish; after which he was walked about for some time; and then, after a short repose, the fingers or the quill were brought into action. After this operation he was lulled to sleep by a regular shampooing. It appears that, despite of all these practices, the stomachs of the ancients were sometimes so pertinaciously retentive, that more powerful means to relieve them were adopted; and when the longest feather that could be plucked from a goose proved unavailing, gloves dipped in the oil of cyprus were put on, and the fingers thus inuncted replaced the feathers. When this failed, the obstinate sufferer was made to swallow a quart or two of honey and hot water, in which rue had been infused; and when this proved ineffectual, he was slung in a hammock to produce the sensation of sea-sickness. In some cases it appears that, despite this practice, the patient thought proper to faint. On such occasions little wedges of wood were driven between his obstinate and rebellious teeth clenched against medicine, so as to allow the introduction of the goose-quill, while cephalic snuff of the precious hellebore and euphorbia was blown up his nostrils to produce sneezing. The last trial to relieve him was tossing the ill-fated wight in a blanket. After this experiment the patient was left to nature or to his friends, if he would not recover. These friends immediately proceeded to give him punches in the stomach, roll him about the floor, and endeavour to restore him to his senses by driving him out of them by every possible noise that could frighten him, if his frightful condition was at all susceptible of any thing left in the arsenal of medicinal ingenuity.[45]

Small doses of hellebore seem to have been taken not only with impunity, but were supposed to assist the mental faculties. According to Valerius Maximus and Aulus Gellius, orators were in the practice of using this stimulus before their disputations. Such, it is said, was the habit of Carneades, whose doctrines might well have been applied to this very day to many theories, since he denied that any thing in the world could be perceived or understood.

Hellebore is to this day an ingredient in many of the fashionable pills vended by successful quacks. This introduction, at any rate, shows that their compounders have candour enough to think (although they may not acknowledge it) that the intellectual faculties of the purchasers of their nostrums do stand in need of some medicinal aid.

SYMPATHIES AND ANTIPATHIES.

The constant effects produced by causes which do not appear connected with them, are phenomena both of organic and inorganic nature which have long fixed the attention of philosophers, and have not yet been satisfactorily explained. This operation between distant bodies cannot be traced to any medium of communication. It arises from an attractive and a repulsive power that cannot be defined. Almost every substance evinces inclinations or antipathies; is attracted with more or less strength by one body, indifferent towards a second, and constantly avoiding a third; nay, bodies appear to act where they are not present, and where no communication can exist. We are as ignorant of the nature of these phenomena as of those of gravitation, magnetism, and electricity. Still, although this medium of communication is not evident, it must be admitted by inference that there must exist a connecting channel, although its nature be unknown.

The ancients called sympathy consensus, and the moderns have also defined it a consent of parts; nor is this definition incorrect, since sympathy arises from the relative ties that mysteriously unite our several organs, however distant and unconnected they may appear; thus establishing a beauteous harmony between all the functions of the animal economy. Sympathies must therefore constitute the chief study of the physiologist: on this alone can the physician ground his investigation of the various disorders to which flesh is heir. Symptoms arise from sympathies: without a knowledge of the one we can never attain a clear insight in the other.

Sympathies are of a physical or a moral nature. The first consist, as I have already stated, of a consent between the different parts of the organism; the latter of certain impressions, unaccountable, unconquerable, that harmonize in a multiplicity of phenomena various individuals, or that induce them, without their being able to assign any reason or motive to warrant the repugnance, to avoid each other, and not unfrequently to entertain a feeling of disgust or horror. A secret voice has spoken,--organism instinctively obeys. Moral sympathies have been defined as faculties that enabled us to partake of the ideas, the affections, or the dislike of others; although this sentiment is by no means reciprocal, and we often dislike those who fondly love us. So far sympathy is instinctive; yet, like many instincts, it is more or less under the control of our reason. We often acquire an artificial partiality to substances that we naturally disliked. Our senses may be considered the instruments of our sympathies; yet senses are regulated by education and habit. Oil, olives, tobacco, and various other substances, are naturally, one might say instinctively, unpleasant to most individuals; yet by custom they are not only relished, but ardently wished for when they cannot be obtained. It is the same with our relative partiality or aversion towards individuals; and indifference is often turned into affection, while the most ardent love is not far remote from hate, when vanity more especially, removes its boundaries.

If we admit that our sympathies are lodged in certain specific organs, we must consider that we are the slaves of organism; whereas it is pretty positive that to a certain extent we are the slaves of habit. Even the most ardent and prevailing passions, the indulgence in which has become an absolute necessity, cease to be brought into action when they have long remained dormant. To associate our moral sympathies with physical consents of parts is to level man with the brute creation; although we hourly see the most decided instinctive dislikes in animals overcome by education. A mouse may be brought up with a cat, and a hawk with a sparrow; although a chicken has been known to dart at a fly the moment its head was out of the egg.

Nor can we view in the same light the affinities of inorganic bodies. They are subject to chemical laws; each is endowed with specific qualities that seldom or never vary, and some other body must be interposed to check their attraction; and that body, in the relation of inorganic matter, may be compared to the influence of the mind in intellectual beings. In animals, the very laws of nature are not unfrequently unheeded; and in these instances natural instincts appear less powerful than the mechanical discrimination that we witness in vegetable life, where germs, and molecules, and fibrils not only select each other, according to nature's harmonic institutions, but actually attract each other from distant situations. This attractive power is beautifully illustrated in the mysterious vegetation of the vallisneria spiralis, an aquatic plant, in which the male and female are distinct individuals. The organization of the male qualifies it to adapt itself to the surface of the water, from the bottom of which the plant shoots forth, and to float in the middle of the deep and rapid tide. The female, on the contrary, is only found in shallow waters, or on shores where the tide exerts but little influence. Thus differently formed and situated, how does their union take place? It is a wonderful mystery. As soon as the male flower is perfect, the spinal stem dries away, and the flower thus separated sails away towards the shore in pursuit of the female, for the most part driven by a current of wind or the stream; yet as soon as it arrives near its destination it obeys a new influence, and is attracted towards the object of its pursuit, despite the powers of that wind and tide which until then directed it. No hypothesis, however ingenious, can explain this phenomenon.

Notwithstanding the doctrines of various writers, I am of opinion that our passions are clearly instinctive, but fortunately more or less under the control of our mental faculties in well-regulated individuals, who do not yield to these instinctive feelings an unbridled course; and I doubt much if there does exist a single passion, however inordinate it may appear, that cannot be mastered. Both good and evil qualities are frequently artificial, and arise from peculiar moral and physical conditions. Self-preservation is an instinctive feeling; yet man will wantonly risk his existence from false views regarding his social position. Courage has been considered as differing in its quality (if I may use the term), and arises sometimes from a natural animal or brute propensity, at others from calculation and reflection; and the latter most unquestionably may temper the former. Duclos' distinction between what is called the courageous heart and the courageous mind, is by no means as objectionable as some of his opponents maintain. If courage is an instinctive faculty, residing in a certain organ, how comes it that this organism varies at different periods? How comes it, moreover, that this variety depends upon circumstances? I have seen a desperate duellist disgrace himself by a cowardly flight in the field of battle. I have known an arrant poltroon defend himself desperately against robbers; and a man, considered of undoubted courage, surrender his arms to a single footpad. In our instincts, our sympathies, we are to a certain extent the children of circumstances; and it would be as absurd to maintain that we cannot control our moral sympathies, as to excuse the commission of murder or of theft.

Our physical sympathies are of a nature totally different. Here they are brought into action according to certain laws of the organization, as uncontrollable as chemical affinities; and I doubt much whether our unaccountable antipathies may not be considered as appertaining to this category: they seem to depend upon certain laws of attraction and repulsion. The channel of this communication, as I have already observed, will perhaps remain for ever in utter obscurity. To this day we know not in what manner certain articles of food and medical substances find a path to the kidneys with such a rapidity as to render it improbable that it was through the medium of the circulation. The nature of other physiological phenomena is equally unexplained. Through what channel of communication does the cat-hater know that one of these animals is in the room, although unseen by him? Yet these antipathies might be conquered. A man was wont to fall into fits at the sight of a spider; a waxen one was made, which equally terrified him. When he had recovered his faculties, his error was pointed out, the wax figure was put into his hand without inspiring dread, and shortly the living insect no longer disturbed him.

Certain antipathies appear to depend upon a peculiarity of the senses. The horror inspired by the odour of certain flowers may be referred to this cause. Amatus Lusitanus relates the case of a monk who fainted when he beheld a rose, and never quitted his cell when that flower was blooming. Scaliger mentions one of his relations who experienced a similar horror when seeing a lily. In these instances it is not the agreeableness or the offensive nature of the aroma that inspires the repugnance; and Montaigne remarked on this subject, that there were men who dreaded an apple more than a musket-ball. Zimmerman tells us of a lady who could not endure the feeling of silk and satin, and shuddered when touching the velvety skin of a peach. Boyle records the case of a man who felt a natural abhorrence to honey. Without his knowledge, some honey was introduced in a plaster applied to his foot, and the accidents that resulted compelled his attendants to withdraw it. A young man was known to faint whenever he heard the servant sweeping. Hippocrates mentions one Nicanor who swooned whenever he heard a flute: our Shakspeare has alluded to the effects of the bagpipe. Julia, daughter of Frederick, king of Naples, could not taste meat without serious accidents. Boyle fainted when he heard the splashing of water; Scaliger turned pale at the sight of water-cresses; Erasmus experienced febrile symptoms when smelling fish; the Duke d'Epernon swooned on beholding a leveret, although a hare did not produce the same effect. Tycho Brahe fainted at the sight of a fox, Henry the Third of France at that of a cat, and Marshal d'Albert at a pig. The horror that whole families entertain of cheese is generally known. Many individuals cannot digest, or even retain certain substances, such as rice, wine, various fruits, and vegetables.

There are also antipathies that border upon mental aberration. Such was the case with a clergyman who fainted whenever a certain verse in Jeremiah was read. I lately dined in company with a gentleman who was seized with symptoms of syncope whenever a surgical operation or an accident was spoken of. St. John Long's name happened to be mentioned, and he was carried out of the room. I have also known a person who experienced an alarming vertigo and dizziness whenever a great height or a dizzy precipice was described. A similar accident has been occasioned by Edgar's description of Dover Cliff in King Lear. All these sympathies may be looked upon as morbid affections, or rather peculiar idiosyncrasies, beyond the control of our reason or our volition, although it is not impossible that they might be gradually checked by habit. Our dislikes to individuals are often as unaccountable, when we are obliged to confess with the poet Martial:

Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare; Hoc tantum possum dicere, Non amo te.

It is the same with our affections. The ancients, amongst others Empedocles, fancied that attraction and repulsion constituted the principal actions of life, and harmonized the universe. Hesiod dispels Chaos through the agency of Love. Aversions were attributed to the influence of an evil eye. To avoid its direful effects, strange practices were adopted, according to Tibullus; and to check the malefices of wicked crones, it was customary to spit three times in an infant's bosom,

Despuit in molles et sibi quisque sinus;

while the well-known amulet representing the god Fascinus, was suspended round the child's neck. Maidens were veiled to guard them against this noxious power, and secrecy and retirement were deemed the most effectual means of security.

Latendum est dum vivimus, ut feliciter vivamus.

In a preceding article I have given a sketch of the custom of administering love-philters.

The singular sympathies that forewarn a future union between the sexes have in some instances been most surprising. The following example, that came within my knowledge, is perhaps one of the most singular: Mr. ----, a brother officer of mine, was a man of taciturn and retired habits, seldom frequenting public places of amusement, and, when there, felt any thing but gratification. One evening after dinner he was, however, prevailed upon to go to a ball. We had not been long in the room when, to my utter surprise, he expressed great admiration of a young lady who was dancing, and, what still more amazed us all, he engaged her to dance. Such an act of apparent levity on his part struck us as a singularity which might have been attributed to an unusual indulgence at table, had not the contrary been the case, for he was remarkably abstemious. The dance was scarcely over when he came to me, and told me with a look of deep despondency, that his lovely partner was a married woman. The tone of sadness in which he addressed me was truly ludicrous. A few minutes after he left the ball-room. The strangeness of his conduct led me to fear that his mind was not altogether in a sound state; but I was confirmed in my apprehension when he told me the following morning that he was convinced he should be married to the object of his admiration, whose husband was a young and healthy clergyman in the neighbourhood. Here matters rested, and we both went abroad. We did not meet until three years after, when, to my utter surprise, I found that his prediction had been verified. The lady's husband had died from a fall from his horse, and the parties were married. But what rendered this circumstance still more strange is, that a similar presentiment was experienced by the young lady herself who, on returning from the ball, mentioned to her sister with much emotion, that she had danced with a stranger, to whom she felt convinced that she was destined to be married. This conviction embittered every moment of her life, as, despite her most strenuous endeavours, she could not dismiss her partner from her constant thoughts, reluctantly yielding to the hope of seeing him again.

The sympathetic power of fascination is another unaccountable phenomenon. It is well known that in regions infested with venomous snakes, there are persons endowed both by nature and by art with the power of disarming the reptiles of their poisonous capacities. The ancient Cyrenaica was overrun with poisonous serpents, and the Psylli were a tribe gifted with this faculty. When Cato pursued Juba over the Cyrenaica desert, he took some of these Psylli with him to cure the poisoned wounds that these reptiles might have inflicted on his soldiers. Bruce informs us that all the blacks in the kingdom of Sennaar are perfectly armed by nature against the bite of either scorpion or viper. They take the cerastes, or horned serpent, (one of the most venomous of all the viper tribe,) in their hands at all times, put them in their bosoms, and throw them to one another, as children do apples or balls; during which sport the serpents are seldom irritated to bite, and, when they do bite, no mischief ensues from the wound. It is said that this power is derived from the practice of chewing certain plants in their infancy. This is most probably the fact; these substances may impregnate the body with some quality obnoxious to the reptile. The same traveller has given an account of several of these roots. In South America a similar practice prevails, and a curious memoir on the subject was drawn out by Don Pedro d'Orbies y Vargas, detailing various experiments. He informs us that the plant thus employed is the vejuco de guaco, hence denominated from its having been observed that the bird of that name also called the serpent-hawk, usually sucked the juice of this plant before his attacks upon poisonous serpents. Prepared by drinking a small portion of this juice, inoculating themselves with it by rubbing it upon punctures in the skin, Don Pedro himself, and all his domestics, were accustomed to venture into the fields, and fearlessly seize the most venomous of these serpents. Acrell, in the Amoenitates Academicae, informs us that the senega possesses a similar power. The tantalus or ibis of Egypt, that derives its chief food from venomous animals, depends in a like manner on the protection of antidotes. This power of fascinating serpents is so great, that they remain totally torpid and inactive under its influence, and are not even able to offer any resistance when skinned from tail to head like an eel, and eaten alive. According to Bruce, they sicken the moment they are laid hold of, and are exhausted by this invincible power as though they had been struck by lightning or an electric battery, shutting their eyes the moment they are seized, and never attempting to turn their mouth towards the person that holds them. It has been asserted that the Hindoo jugglers render serpents innocuous by the extraction of their teeth, and although this may be the practice in some parts of India, it is not generally resorted to in other countries.

Dr. Mead and Smith Barton of Philadelphia endeavour to explain this power by the influence of terror. This supposition, however, is not correct, since the serpent will injure one man and not another, if the latter is gifted with this faculty and the former one is not. Major Gordon of South Carolina attributes the fascinating power of reptiles to a vapour which they exhale and shed around them; and he mentions a negro who, from a peculiar acuteness of smell, could discover a rattlesnake at two hundred feet distance. That certain odours are overpowering there is not the least doubt; and trout and other fresh-water fishes are charmed and caught without resistance when the hand is smeared with asafoetida, marjoram, and other aromas. The fishes, delighted no doubt with this odour, or intoxicated by its power, will actually flock towards the fingers, and allow themselves to be laid hold of.

Thieves and housebreakers have been known to possess the power of quieting watch-dogs, and keeping them silent during their depredations. Lindecrantz informs us that the Laplanders can instantly disarm the most furious dog, and oblige it to fly from them with every expression of terror. The strange faculty of taming the most unmanageable horses, possessed by an Irishman, hence called the Whisperer, is well known. Several horse-breakers have appeared at various periods possessing the same art, and they would make the wildest horse follow them as tamely as a dog, and lie down at their bidding. It has been affirmed that these whisperers introduce a globule of quicksilver, or some other substance, into the animal's ears. It is, however, more probable that these charmers derive their power of fascination from some natural or artificial emanation. The most singular power of fascination is perhaps that exhibited by the jugglers of Egypt, who, by merely pressing the serpent called haje on the neck, stiffen the reptile to such a degree, that they can wave it like a wand.

To explain this sympathetic influence that living beings exercise on each other, as I have already observed, has long been the study of philosophers. Their chief theories may be divided into those of the advocates of pneumatism or spiritualism, who maintained that the nerves transmitted a subtle fluid susceptible of external transmission. Such were the disciples of Plato; and, amongst the moderns, the Arabian writers, Paracelsus, Van Helmont, Willis, Digby, Wirdig, and even Boerhave. The mechanicians formed another class, refusing to admit the doctrine of influences, and submitting all sympathetic phenomena to the laws of mechanism and chemistry. Amongst these we find the Cartesians, Boyle, Hoffmann, and Haller. Their doctrine had already been established amongst the ancients by Asclepiades. The third system was that of the organicians, who attributed these effects to our organization, governed by a principle of free agency. In this school are recorded the names of Hippocrates, Galen, Stahl, Bordeu, and many illustrious writers of various ages. An investigation of these discrepancies would be foreign to these sketches. I can only observe, that none of them are tenable, and have only tended to display scholastic learning and ingenuity, without any practical beneficial results. Indeed, the only advantages that might possibly accrue from these pursuits would be the shedding of some faint light upon our systems of early education, by finding out the most judicious method of counteracting innate dispositions and peculiar idiosyncrasies.

The life of man is a relative and external existence. He lives in communion with all around him, and before his ultimate dissolution he is doomed to die with every object of his affections that perishes before him. To these objects he has been united by the secret powers of sympathy. The organism of both appears to have been subject to mutual laws; and grief and joy, our pains and pleasures, are transmitted with the rapidity and power of the magnetic fluid. Nor time nor distance can affect these sympathies, which have been known to remain latent in our breasts till called into action by accidental circumstances. Thus, a man has never known how fondly he loved until he was suddenly deprived of the object of his sympathies, although until that moment this affection had been unknown even to himself. This circumstance clearly proves that these sympathies are not under the influence of our imagination. Although it is to this creative faculty that these reminiscences are attributed by Madame De Stael in the following exquisite words, "The creative talents of imagination, for some moments at least, satisfies all our desires and wishes,--it opens to us heavens of wealth; it offers to us crowns of glory; it raises before our eyes the pure and bright image of an ideal world: and so mighty sometimes is its power, that by it we hear in our hearts the very voice and accents of one whom we have loved."

Sympathies might be denominated a moral contagion in mankind: in the brute creation they merely produce a physical impulse. Reid attributed to the nervous system an atmosphere of sensibility, influencing all that came within its range. Ernest Platner maintained that our soul could diffuse itself in mutual transmission; and in another paper I have shown that life may be prolonged by sacrificing the health of others, when the genial warmth of youth is surreptitiously communicated to decrepitude.

What is then this invisible vital fluid, this electric principle, that the touch, the breath, the warmth, the very aroma of those we are fond of, communicates, when trembling, fluttering, breathless, we approach them? that enables us, even when surrounded with darkness, to recognise by the feel the hand of her we love? Nay, whence arises the feeling of respect and veneration that we experience in the presence of the great and the pre-eminently good? It may be said this is the result of our education; we have been taught to consider these individuals as belonging to a superior class of mortals. To a certain extent this may be true; yet there does exist an impressive contagion when we are brought into the presence, or placed under the guidance, of such truly privileged persons. Their courage, their eloquence, their energies, their fanaticism, thrill every fibre, like the vibration of the chord under the skilful harpist's hand. Actuated by this mystic influence the coward has boldly rushed into the battle, the timid dared imminent perils, and the humane been driven to deeds of blood. Fanatic contagion has produced both martyrs and heroes. Example stimulates and emulates, despite our reasoning faculties. Regis ad exemplar totus componitur orbis. Imitation is the principle of action, the nursery of good and great deeds. We either feel degraded by the ascendancy of others, when we fancy, however vainly, that we may attain their level; or devote ourselves to their cause and their service, when we tacitly recognize their mastery. It is more particularly in our devotion and in our love,--two sentiments more analogous than is generally believed,--that this mutuality of sympathies prevails; and when Galigai was asked by his judges by what means he had obtained his influence over Mary of Medicis, his reply was similar to that of the Moor when describing his course of love,--the witchcraft he had used to win his Desdemona, when with a greedy ear devouring his discourse.

There is no doubt that education, circumstances, our state of health, predisposes us more or less to the action of these sympathetic powers, for then our feelings are actually more or less morbid. Affliction, for instance, predisposes to tender sentiments. There is perhaps much psychological matter of fact in the old story of the Ephesian widow; and our immortal Shakspeare felt the truth not only of the contagion of grief, but of its consoling power when reciprocally felt, although no doubt the reciprocity has often been assumed to woo and win.

Grief best is pleased with grief's society. True sorrow then is feelingly surprised, When with like feeling it is sympathized.

Fortunately for our frail race, sympathies are liable to be worn out by their own exhausting powers. Attrition polishes but indurates at the same time: thus does social intercourse harden our gentle predispositions. The mathematical world dispels the illusions of our fervent youth, as chilling truth banishes fancy's flattering dreams. Experience is to man what rust is to iron; it corrodes, but at the same time protects the metal to a certain degree, from the magnet's mighty power.

Although the nature of sympathies most probably will never be ascertained, their study is essential both to the moralist and the physician, and both may be materially aided in their vocations by the temperament of the pupil or the patient; for, as I shall endeavour to show in a subsequent sketch, our temperaments generally indicate individual characteristics. It is in vain that some philosophers may deny the power of innate faculties and dispositions. The very expression 'human nature' implies their existence. To encourage their growth, or to check their developement, becomes the duty of those who are entrusted with the education of youth, when yielding to, or counteracting propensities, becomes as necessary as the care the horticulturist devotes to his plants. By the inclination that trees have taken, we can generally learn the prevalent winds of a district. The plastic hand of our early teachers may, in most instances, obtain a similar result; though in the vegetable kingdom, as well as in the animal kingdom, there will be constantly found stubborn trunks that will resist all influence. Were we to admit that our material organism cannot be counteracted, we should inevitably fall into many lamentable errors, and many a crime would be extenuated on the plea of fatalism. It is to be feared that some of our ingenious theorists have too frequently tortured organism on a Procrustean couch, to suit their favourite phantasies. We might reply to the visions of these enthusiasts in the words of Iago, "Our bodies are our gardens, to which our wills are gardeners--either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry. The power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to the most preposterous conclusions."

THE ARCHEUS OF VAN HELMONT.

One of the most ingenious fictions of those speculators who have endeavoured to explain the mysteries of our wonderful organization, was perhaps the Archeus of Van Helmont, a term derived from [Greek: arche], origin, principle, authority, power. According to the doctrines of this physician, the archeus was an internal agent that commanded and regulated all the vital functions. I cannot better describe it than by partly borrowing the language of the founder of the doctrine.

The archeus and matter are the natural causes of all. The molecules of matter, essentially inert, receive from this principle their movements, their order, their distribution, their conformation: the archeus is the internal agent that penetrates them, the nucleus of their inspiration; it is the mould in which they are elaborated, brought into form by this plastic influence meeting in this material substance the requisite docility to realize its ideas of perfection. Thus the archeus is an active and an intelligent power, possessing the faculty of amalgamating and identifying itself with matter; penetrating its inmost recesses, it modifies and changes each particle of matter, producing that incomprehensible series of oscillations of spontaneousness and equilibrium, that catenation and marvellous automatism, that constitute the consciousness of our existence, and whence springs the only notion we can form of its causation. It is the archeus that presides over our sense of smelling, of tasting, and consequently the selection of our food; it is he that dissolves it in our digestive organs, liquefies it, and prepares it for due assimilation; it is he that imparts a conservative action to the blood, and converts this vital fluid into bone and muscle. Should any particle of our aliments have escaped from this transforming power, these substances become foreign bodies, irritating by their presence this sovereign power, calling forth his energies and his activity, and exciting his indignation and wrath by their repeated provocations. His just fury stimulates and accelerates the vital functions; but, instead of wreaking its vengeance on external matter, it overwhelms all internal obstacles, whether diffused in the system or concentrated on any given point. It is this tumultuous confusion that constitutes maladies, which arise from two evident causes,--an alteration in matter and a reaction of the archeus.

Of these two morbid elements, the first is susceptible of a thousand varieties both in nature and extent, and therefore produces as many modifications in the corrective power. Then does the archeus, threatened on different points in different manners, regulate his plans and operations both of defence and of attack, selecting his weapons according to the nature of his antagonists. In this mutual struggle our archeus wisely checks the impetuosity of his onset, husbands his forces, and merely detaches them from the main body according to the circumstances of the conflict; thus ever keeping a powerful reserve. It is this wisdom of conduct that ultimately restores tranquillity, and compels the rebellious molecules to submit to the laws of organization. For what constitutes the cure of a disease, whether obtained by nature or by art? Nothing more than the dignified repose of the mighty archeus, when the fire of his wrath has consumed his foes. Diseases, therefore, are simply the execution of vast and complex projects that inspire the archeus, and which he carries into execution as the statuary embodies on the marble the conceptions of his genius. When the morbid idea is in conformity with his plans, a favourable result will ensue; if, on the contrary, the archeus labours under a misconception, if he is thrown by erroneous impressions into disordinate steps, then may this power, excited without a just motive, or a determinate and proper object, turn its arms against itself, and destroy the ties that united it to matter. It is then that art, whose aim it is to meet the foe with his own weapons, must have recourse to medicine for the purpose of rousing the torpor of the archeus, reanimate his energies if he droops, overthrow him if he becomes unruly, and finally compel him to yield, by a salutary terror; forcibly bringing him back to that judicious equilibrium in action, when all the functions contribute in harmony and concert to the general welfare of the system.

Such were the truly poetical ideas of Van Helmont, who might have written an epic on the government, revolutions, and battles, in the archean state, similar to the Holy War of our ingenious Bunyan; for, like the cobler poet, our theorist divided and subdivided his legions and their officers. The archeus is merely the sovereign commander, whose head-quarters and throne were in the stomach; all the other viscera have distinct commandants, receiving their orders from their chief, who employed the nerves of his aides-de-camp. Nor was it an easy matter to keep all these captains in a proper state of discipline. Their irregularities occasioned constant tumults; for the court of the archeus, like all other courts, was most depraved and capricious in its practices, and intriguing in all its machinations, and the archeus had great trouble in keeping his subordinates in a proper state.

The most rebellious of his generals was the one who commanded the uterine district. There it was in vain that the articles of war were constantly read,--that solitary confinement and prison-diet were resorted to. Its constant mutinies not only demanded the utmost vigilance, but it was no easy matter to prevent its dangerous influence from contaminating the other branches of the service; and treasonable correspondences were not unfrequently discovered with the staff of the brain. This rebellious province, indeed, excited incessant apprehension, constantly agitated the entire commonwealth, and, on the plea of national welfare and liberty, it hoisted at times a standard of defiance, and precipitated the country in all the miseries of civil war; the more to be dreaded, as it always put forth the most specious pleas, destroying with words of peace.

This whimsical doctrine is not unlike the Platonic theories, and resembles the naturism or [Greek: enormon] of Hippocrates, and the autocracy of the soul, of Stahl. Van Helmont not only established his archei in animals, but in plants, and even in our food. The archeus of man he sometimes called ens seminale, ens spirituale, impetum faciens, aura vitalis. Well aware that the most powerful despot cannot reign without rival powers, Van Helmont admitted certain imperia in imperio: for instance, there was a troublesome minister in his own cabinet, whom the archeus frequently could not control,--one pylorus rector, or master of the ceremonies; then he had to apprehend the power of a secret faculty possessed by the stomach and spleen, which he called a duumvirate,--jus duumvirat'. The sensitive and immortal soul was another check on his sway; while the spirit of life residing in the blood was not easily managed. All these vexations occasioned frequent attacks of illness in the monarch, and Van Helmont has described these several affections; for, although he possessed the power of conceiving and executing plans of disease, like many physicians, he did not know how to cure himself.

When we consider that systems similar to this absurd doctrine, if not more extravagant, have ruled the medical schools for centuries with a despotic sway, can we marvel that medicine should have incurred the invectives of scepticism, or the scurrility of wits? In the very ratio of their absurdity have these flitting systems been maintained with scholastic fury; their proselytes would have vied in excesses with monastic persecutors, had they been able to assume a religious mask. It is painful to observe that unbelief and impious ridicule in theologic matters may be referred to the same causes as medical scepticism,--the vain and presumptuous endeavour of man to explain that which the CREATOR has most probably willed to remain inexplicable. Instead of wisely referring all that is mysterious to the Almighty Power that knows no limit, man has sought to explain and comment upon human principles, nay upon human motives; and when they could no longer attribute evil to GOD, they crossed the pons asinorum to call in the Devil. In like manner, when they proudly fancied that they had regulated all the functions of the animal economy in that harmonious manner that they were modest enough to call admirable and wondrous, they endeavoured to account for a derangement of this equilibrious condition, either by the introduction of some evil spirit, or the unmanageable rebellion of some organ, some principle, some agency, and for this purpose they gave individuality and specific vitality to those agents, each of the dramatis personae having a particular part to perform in bringing on a tragic catastrophe or a happy denouement of the drama of life.

Let not the learned doctors of modern schools exclaim, that these were the errors of former days and of dark ages. They themselves are grovelling and groping in the dark whenever they pretend to fly from the trammels of empiricism, and, like our forefathers, account for what is unaccountable. But, above all, let them be meek and modest (if they can) in passing judgment upon others, and inscribe upon the doors of their splendid libraries the saying of the olden sage, "All that we know is our own ignorance."

MONSTERS.

Philosophers have puzzled their brains to no purpose in endeavouring to account for the unnatural formation of animals. The ancients, amongst whom we may name Democritus and Epicurus, attributing all organization to an atomic aggregation, fancied that matter was endowed with an elective faculty and certain volition in attaining this organism; and considered monstruosities as mere experiments on the part of these atoms to produce some other species or races. This chimera was of a par with the archeus and his satellites of the preceding article. There is no doubt, however, that in the myriads of organized creatures various circumstances may tend to affect most materially the regularity of these developments, in the same manner as the properties and peculiar qualities of their organs may depend in a great measure upon similar influences. Conservation and reproduction are in the ratio of this perfection and imperfection. It is true, generally speaking, that the healthy and the best organized are less liable to engender an ill-conformed offspring; yet parents of this description have been known to produce monsters. Still the fortes creantur fortibus of Horace has become a proverbial expression; and some fanciful wanderers in the mazes of imagination framed rules for their megalanthropogenesy, or the art of creating illustrious men and distinguished women by uniting the learned and the witty.

Generation is a wondrous mystery. Many casual circumstances may check the mechanism of its action, (if I may be allowed the expression,) and affect its results. Any sudden physical or moral impression acting violently might produce this result; although, despite the theories and experiments of philosophers, it has not been proved that conception depends in the slightest degree upon the passions, being an act of nature totally independent of the control of mental emotions or bodily sufferings. This fact is clearly proved in cases of brutal violence.

The ideas entertained by several naturalists, that organized beings were cast in a certain mould, were not altogether visionary, or unfounded in observation. The great resemblance between children, and their hereditary mal-conformation and defectuosities in whole families, would seem to a certain degree to warrant this conclusion; but it is more probable that imagination may have some influence in this irregularity, although at the time we may be unconscious of the relative action of moral agency on physical functions. The supporters of the existence of this plastic mould in which organized matter is cast, would then maintain that the mind having once influenced the conformation of the matrix, it would ever after preserve this deviation from nature's general laws.

It is evident that different species of animals and vegetables have disappeared on the face of the earth, some within the memory of man. We neither know how these species have ceased to exist, nor whether all that possibly can be created has hitherto been brought into being; neither can we form any idea regarding the perpetuity of the races that surround us. Perpetuity and eternity (as far as regards this world) are conventional terms: races were supposed to be perpetuated by the successive evolutions of germs, as I have observed in a former article. To a certain extent this doctrine is correct, and is rendered evident in the evolutions of plants arising from their seed. Preternatural conditions are merely irregularities in this germination. The doctrine, that at each creation a true generation and gradual formation of a new conception from the formless genital matter takes place, does not appear to me reconcileable with sound physiology, nor supported by observation; for, were this the case, it is more than probable that preternatural formations would be more frequent. It was upon this doctrine that the learned Blumenbach founded his nisus formativus, an expression that he thus explains: "The word nisus I have adopted chiefly to express an energy truly vital, and therefore to distinguish it as clearly as possible from powers merely mechanical, by which some physiologists formerly endeavoured to explain generation. The point upon which the whole of this doctrine respecting the nisus formativus turns, and which is alone sufficient to distinguish it from the vis plastica of the ancients, or the vis essentialis of Wolff, and similar hypotheses, is the union and intimate co-exertion of two distinct principles in the evolution of the nature of organized bodies,--of the PHYSICO-MECHANICAL with the purely TELEOLOGICAL;--principles which have hitherto been adopted, but separately, by physiologists in framing theories of generation."

The ingenuity of this hypothesis must be admitted, but it does not militate against the pre-existence of germs. Germs are visible in the ovum before fecundation; in these germs the very primordia of future organization can be distinguished. It is by no means necessary to allow these germs an exciting power, or a formative power, as has been objected: they are more or less profuse, and under the influence, as I have already said, of accidental circumstances. It has been maintained that monsters are more common in domesticated animals than in wild ones. This is by no means evident, since we have little opportunity of ascertaining the case in forests and in wildernesses; but, admitting the fact, it only tends to corroborate my opinion regarding the influence of accidental causes in physical development, since domestication must expose animals to many emotions unknown in their natural condition. It has been said that monsters are especially observed among sows. There perhaps is no animal under the subjection of man, excepting, perhaps, the unfortunate donkey, more exposed to physical injuries during gestation; and as the Portuguese maintain that a cajado (a stick) springs from the earth whenever an ass is born, so our bumkins and malicious urchins fancy that every one owes a kick to a gravid sow. Howbeit, I doubt much whether the swinish multitude are more subject to bear monstruosities than other animals; and preternatural conformations are, I believe, as frequent in lambs, and calves, and chickens; and double-headed and double-legged specimens of these animals are more frequently exhibited than monstrous pigs.

Monstruosities are of two kinds, and exhibit either an excess of parts or a defect. Thus, some children are born with more limbs than usual, whilst others are deprived of their natural proportions. It is not unlikely that in the former case twins were being developed; whereas, in the other, the proper nourishment of the parts that are either wanting or stunted in their growth had somehow or other been impeded in its assimilation. This opinion seems to be warranted by the facts observed in the artificial incubation of eggs, the different parts of the chick being more or less perfect where the heat had been more or less steadily applied; the produce of those eggs that had enjoyed more warmth being invariably the stronger. The same remark applies to plants. Eggs and seeds are in most respects ruled by similar laws in the phenomena of their germination: the arms and legs grow from the animal foetus, as the branches originate from the trunk of the tree. These ramifications are frequently as symmetrical as human limbs. When there are preternatural excesses in formation, it is probable that twins were intended: thus we see foetuses with double heads, or with two bodies. The same irregularity is observed in double and triple cherries, and other fruits. It is probable that this union took place when these bodies were in a soft state, and the vessels inosculated in their intricate ramifications with greater facility, until further development had consolidated the junction.

If a proof were wanting that monstruosities do not arise in the original organization of the embryo, but from subsequent accidents during gestation, it might be sought in those preternatural appearances that arise from frights or longings, and constitute what are called naevi materni. Thus are infants born bearing the marks of some fruit the mother had desired, or some animal that had terrified her. This phenomenon plainly shows that there does exist a wonderful sympathy between external objects and the uterine system; yet this sympathy is not as surprising as that which is subsequently observed between these marks and the fruit they represent. It is a well-authenticated fact that they will assume a tinge of maturity when the fruit is ripening, and become gradually more pale as it is going out of season. The same observation has been made in regard to animal marks; for instance, these marks have displayed a deeper colour when the mouse or the rat that had occasioned them was mentioned. I know a lady who, during her pregnancy, was struck with the unpleasant view of leeches applied to a relative's foot. Her child was born with the mark of a leech coiled up in the act of suction on the identical spot. Mr. Bennett has published a remarkable instance of this uterine sympathy. A woman gave birth to a child with a large cluster of globular tumours growing from the tongue, and preventing the closure of the mouth, in colour, shape, and size exactly resembling our common grapes, and with a red excrescence from the chest, as exactly resembling in figure and appearance a turkey's wattles. On being questioned before the child was shown her, she answered that, while pregnant, she had seen some grapes, longed intensely for them, and constantly thought of them; and that she was also once attacked and much alarmed by a turkey-cock.

Various writers have positively denied these facts. Gerard tells us that he had known three pregnant women whose minds had been constantly occupied with the unpleasant recollections of a cripple, of a dancing-dog fantastically dressed, and a basket of beautiful peaches; yet their offspring bore no marks of these objects. This is no argument. No rational person could imagine for a single moment that every impression thus received is to be transmitted. Buffon, who also doubts this influence, thus expresses himself: "We must not expect that we shall be able to convince women that the marks their children may bear have no analogy with ungratified longings. I have frequently asked them, before the birth of their infants, what had been their wishes, and consequently what would be the marks that they might expect? By this question I frequently gave unintentional offence."

Now, with all due respect to this celebrated naturalist, this argument is by no means conclusive. We perfectly well know that pregnant women are frequently alarmed without such consequences, and the most fantastic phantasies may cross their idle brains, without any such result. It has been observed on this subject, "that when a circumstance may proceed from many causes, we do not universally reject any one because it is frequently alleged without reason." We have too many well-authenticated cases before us to doubt this strange effect of maternal impressions, so clearly observed and recorded in Holy Writ in the following passage of Genesis: "And Jacob took him rods of Green poplar, and of the hazel and chestnut tree, and pilled white strakes in them, and made the white appear which was in the rods. And he set the rods which he had pilled before the flocks in the gutters in the watering-troughs, when the flocks came to drink, that they should conceive when they came to drink. And the flocks conceived before the rods, and brought forth cattle ring-straked, speckled, and spotted."

The sympathy that evidently exists between bodies separated from each other, but previously connected, has given rise to many absurd stories. It is told of Taliocotius, that having made a nose for a patient, cut out of a pig, the poor man's snout fell off the moment the hog was slaughtered. A similar belief prevails among horticulturists, who assert that the graft perishes when the parent tree decays. A very singular phenomenon is observed in wine countries, where the wine in wood enters into a state of slight effervescence, and even efflorescence, when the vines begin to throw out their blossoms.

It therefore appears to me more than probable that monstruosities are by no means original mal-conformations, but arise, during gestation, from physical or moral influences that affect the mother, however unconscious she may be of their action. We have frequent instances of violence occasioning preternatural developements. Mr. Giron Buzareingues mentions that a violent blow was given to a gravid bitch, who produced eight pups, all of which excepting one, had the hind-legs wanting, malconformed, or weak.

A further disquisition would lead me beyond the limits of a sketch. I shall therefore relate some curious cases of monstruosities, that would seem to set at nought our ideas regarding the indispensability of certain organs to the functions of life.

Various instances are recorded of the union of two or more foetuses. We have lately seen the Siamese twins, and such a preternatural formation is by no means uncommon. In the Journal de Verdun, 1709, a case is related of two twin female children who were united at the loins, with only one intestinal canal. They were seven years old, could walk about, embrace each other in the fondest manner, and both were proficient in several languages. Buffon gives the history of two Hungarian girls, who were also joined together in the lumbar region. Helena, who was the first-born, became tall and straight; Judith, her sister, was of a diminutive size, and slightly arched. At six years of age she was attacked with hemiplegia, and never recovered perfect health. Helena was sprightly and intelligent. With the exception of the smallpox and measles, under which they laboured at the same time, their ailments were always distinct. They lived until the age of twenty-two, when Judith was attacked with a fever, that shortly terminated her existence. The horror expressed by Helena in beholding her dead companion, with whom she had been identified in sisterly love for so many years, cannot be described; but her agonies were of short duration, for in three minutes she also had ceased to live. On their post mortem examination each was found to have possessed distinct viscera. The aorta and vena cava were united above the origin of the iliac arteries, so that no severing operation could have been performed without destroying them both.

Duverney relates the case of twins united at the lower part of the abdomen. They only lived six days; the strongest of the two died first, and was followed by his companion three hours after. Haller records upwards of thirty cases of a similar nature; and various skeletons of this description are to be seen in our museums. Munster saw two girls united by the forehead. They had then attained their tenth year, when one of them died. It therefore became indispensable to separate them, but the unfortunate creature did not survive the operation. Daubenton describes two children united at the back of the head.

Such miserable junctions naturally suggested the idea of effecting a separation by surgical means; but I believe this operation was only once performed with a successful result. Two little girls were united from the xiphoid cartilage to the umbilicus. The uniting substance was an inch in thickness, six lines in breadth, and five inches in circumference. In the centre of the junction was the umbilical ring common to both. The umbilical vessels were separated and tied; the ligature fell at the expiration of nine days; and then Zwingler, the operator, proceeded to divide the remaining bonds.

Various monsters have been seen with four arms and three legs, or four legs and two or three arms. The history of the double-headed infant of Oxford is curious. This creature had two heads diametrically opposite, four arms, one body and two lower extremities. These heads were doubly baptized; one by the name of Martha, and the other Mary. The features were different; Mary's was smiling, Martha's dejected. The latter died two days after her birth, and Mary expired a quarter of an hour after.

A curious monster of a similar description is recorded to have lived at the court of James IV. of Scotland. It had been taught several languages, and music. One head was intelligent, the other remarkably stupid. This creature lived twenty-eight years, when one of the individuals died. The other survived several days, but gradually drooped as the body of his late companion was decomposing. In olden writers we have many curious cases. How far they may be entitled to credit I cannot say; although we have no reason to deny the fact, when we daily witness the most singular malconformations. Liceti relates the case of a child with two legs, but seven heads and seven arms. Bartholinus mentions one with three heads, each of which uttered the most horrible cries, and then expired.

While these unfortunates were visited with several heads, instances have been known of heads that had attained a most enormous volume. In Tunis, there was a Moor of thirty years of age, whose head was so large, that crowds followed him in the streets; and his mouth was of such a capacity, that he could devour a large melon as easily as an apple. This man was an idiot. At Lucca, Benvenuti saw a lad, otherwise well-proportioned, whose head at the age of seven began to increase so rapidly, that when he was twenty-seven it measured thirty-seven inches eight lines in circumference, and his face was fifteen inches long.

Singular monstruosities have been seen, where heads and bodies seemed actually to be growing from or hanging to individuals. Winslow knew an Italian child, of eight years of age, who carried a little head under the third left rib, and peeping out as if the body of the one had been concealed in that of the other. Both heads had been christened; the one James, the other Matthew. When the ear of little Matthew was pinched, his host James forthwith began to roar. The Bengal child, whose case is related by Valentin and Horne, is equally singular. Here one head was placed above the other, the superior one nearly as well conformed as the lower; both adhered intimately. The upper face assumed somewhat of an oblique direction. Each head had its distinct brain: sometimes one head was fast asleep while his neighbour was wide awake, and one head would cry most piteously if you pulled the hair of the other; but, what was still more singular, when the one was fed, its companion expressed its gratification, and water flowed from its mouth. This monster lived four years, and probably would have lived much longer, but for the bite of a venomous reptile.

In a former article I alluded to encephalous and anencephalous cases, where there were either no heads or heads without brains. Of the first variety Beclard relates the following: A woman at Angers was delivered of twins, one of which not only was without a head, but only showed the inferior part of the body; without arms, a small stump-like excrescence growing from the upper part of the chest; the feet were turned inwards, and without toes. The creature was of the male sex. The body presented one cavity without any diaphragm; nor could any trace of liver, spleen, oesophagus, or stomach be detected: the intestinal tube commenced at the upper part of the body, but was impervious; the pancreas and kidneys were as usual; the umbilical vein arose from the cava, and the umbilical arteries from the hypogastric. There were ten ribs on each side, and the spinal marrow threw out its regular nerves.

Brunel has recorded the case of a male infant born without brains. The frontal bone was thrown back, and flattened on the sphenoid in such a manner that the eyes appeared above his head. The parietal and the squamous portion of the temporal were wanting, although the organ of hearing was well conformed. Not a vestige of brain could be discovered; yet the carotid and vertebral arteries crossed the basis of the cranium. The spinal marrow arose from the fourth cervical vertebra. The organs of sight were perfect. Saviard describes an infant in which all the bones of the cranium were wanting, and, instead of a brain, the skin merely covered a cyst, containing a red pulpy substance resembling brain, whence arose several nerves.

It is, no doubt, to these malconformations that we are to attribute the various stories of children with heads of monkeys, goats, pigs, &c., or of that child whose face represented the devil, and who was described as "Cacodaemonis picturae quam humanae figurae similius," &c. The idle tales of Cyclopes are also to be sought in such accidental preternatural appearances, and several instances are recorded of children born with a single eye in the forehead. It would be useless to dwell longer on this painful subject. Those who wish for more information may gratify their curiosity by consulting the works of Haller, Soemmering, and other writers, who have treated this matter ex professo.

In conclusion, it appears to me that monstruosities are purely accidental, subject to no laws of nature, but deviations from them. We leave to theologasters the question of their being visitations of divine wrath. The only theories that can admit of discussion are the following: 1st, The imagination of the mother; 2nd, Accidental causes; and 3rd, An original monstrous germ. Maternal marks arising from longings and terror, as I have already observed, seemed to warrant the first conclusion; yet it is not tenable. What has imagination to do with the vegetable kingdom, which also presents monstrous conformations? Are we to attribute the same power of imagination to the brute creation? and, although we may fully admit the sympathy that exists between the uterine system and external objects, yet we cannot refer headless and double and triple embryos to this influence. The last hypothesis is also fraught with objections. We have every reason to believe that all germs or seed are perfect in themselves. Were there monstrous germs, there would ensue monstrous races. That germs may be accidentally vitiated and impaired there can be no doubt; but such an adventitious occurrence does not constitute an original monstruosity. Duverney and Winslow maintained that, in the case of a double monster, the monstruosity arose in the primitive germ. Lemery and other physiologists, on the contrary, insisted that double foetuses arise, as I have already stated, from a junction or fusion between two separate bodies, or, in short, the union of twins or triple conceptions, &c. Anatomical investigations confirmed this opinion, since in double-headed foetuses two distinct sets of organs are generally found.

This subject has occupied the most ingenious philosophers for centuries; and the result of their experiments and debates seems to warrant the probability of these melancholy deviations from nature, foolishly denominated lusi naturae, being purely accidental. The experiments of Jacobi seem to confirm this opinion, since he was able to produce preternatural fecundation in the eggs of fishes.

This investigation may appear idle; yet, in a physiological point of view, it is fraught with interest as regarding the generation of animals and plants. Its study affords a lively illustration of those laws of attraction and repulsion that regulate the universe, and which seem to admit that every particle of matter should be endowed with a specific vitality, a specific individuality. This attraction is daily seen in the fecundation of the spawn of fish. Myriads of these eggs are accumulated in ponds and rivers; yet in this mass the fecundating principle solely selects and impregnates those that naturally claim its vivifying powers. Wonderful harmony, that man alone endeavours to destroy!--harmony so perfect, that Aristoxenus and Alcmaeon maintained that it was an emanation of the diapason of celestial music between the planets, our globe, and our five senses, forming a diatonic series of seven tones; while Hippocrates justly denominated these organic laws the CONFLUXUS UNUS, CONSPIRATIO UNICA, CONSENTIENTIA OMNIA.

LONGEVITY.

The greater the complexity of a piece of machinery, and the more labour it is called upon to perform, the more rapid will be its wear and tear. This applies to human life as well as to mechanism. The derangement of its component parts--its springs and wheels, will also be in the ratio of their complication. Thus do we find that the brute creation are less subject to those affections that abridge their days than mankind. Their life is natural, except when under the sway of domestication: ours is artificial; and high civilization tends to render it still more unnatural than it would most probably have been in a simple and patriarchal existence. Endowed with more acuteness of sensibility than animals, we are rendered more susceptible of the extremes of pleasure and of pain; and our voluptuous enjoyments are perhaps more prejudicial than our sufferings. Had not the Creator wisely granted us the faculty of reasoning, we should have been the most wretched of all organized beings.

The tenure of life depends upon the sum of vitality originally deposited, and the extent of our drafts upon this capital, which we too frequently exhaust by untimely expenses. Experience has proved that under ordinary circumstances, man can live six or seven times longer than the years required to attain puberty. This epoch is placed at our fourteenth year. This calculation would therefore yield from 84 to 98 years of age. Our own imprudences, and the disorders resulting from them, are more hostile in abridging this period than nature, all-wise and all-bountiful. Indeed, when we reflect on all the excesses to which we expose our frail and complicated being, as if we were resolved to try by every possible experiment how far it possesses the power of resisting destructive agents, we can only marvel in beholding so many instances of longevity. In this wasteful existence how many valuable hours do we not lose? how many real enjoyments have we not deprived ourselves of? When compared to the immensity of time, life is but an idle span. Let us deduct even from old age the years of infancy, the years of caducity, and the years of sleep,--alas! what remaineth of our many and our energetic days? Maupertuis calculated that in an ordinary life man could scarcely enjoy more than three years of happiness, mixed up with sixty or eighty years of misery or insipidity; and yet how miserable are we at the thought of quitting this short-leased tenement, though every wretchedness renders our abode a constant scene of uneasiness. It has been computed that out of about nine hundred millions of human beings that are scattered over the globe, it is more than probable that we could not find nine thousand individuals blessed with happiness, even taking happiness in its most limited sense--content. Were it not for the terrors of futurity, it is more than probable that our existence would lose much of its value. Socrates termed philosophy "the preparation for death;" the same may be said of our existence.

Happily for man, life is a dream, all is illusion; sufferings alone are positive; Pandora's box is its best illustration. Could we have slept away our existence in constant visions, we should have lived as long as in a waking state. When we contemplate the flocks of human beings scattered like cattle on the face of the universe, with scarcely more intellect than the beasts of the same field, we might ask for what were they created? doomed to all the horrors of sickness or of war, victims of their own follies or the ambitious projects of others! As far as regards this life, it is worse than idle to seek a solution of the problem. In these inquiries we too often seek to guess that which we can never know, and to know that which we can never guess! We all complain and murmur like the woodman in the fable, yet are loath to accept the relief we loudly call for.

The longevity of the first races, and the patriarchs, are records foreign to the investigations of natural history; we must seek for more recent examples. Haller had collected the cases of many centenaries, amounting to sixty-two who had reached from 100 to 120; twenty-nine from 120 to 130; and fifteen from 130 to 140. Few instances are authenticated beyond this period: yet we find one Eccleston, who lived 143 years; John Effingham, who attained his 144th; a Norwegian, who counted a century and a half; and our Thomas Parr would most probably have passed his 152nd year but for an excess. Henry Jenkins lived to 169; and we have on record the case of a Negress, aged 175. The Hungarian family of John Rovin were remarkable for their longevity: the father lived to 172, the wife to 164; they had been married 142 years, and their youngest child was 115; and such was the influence of habit and filial affection, that this child was treated with all the severity of paternal rigidity, and did not dare to act without his papa's and mamma's permission.

By the calculations of Sussmilch, out of one thousand individuals, only one attained 97; and not more than one lived to the age of 100, out of one hundred and fourteen thousand. In the census of Italy, taken under Vespasian, there were found fifty-four of 100, fifty-seven of 110, two of 125, four of 130, and three of 140. In China, under Kien Long, in 1784, there were only four individuals who had attained their 100th year. According to Larrey, there were at Cairo thirty-five persons who had exceeded their century. In Russia, in 1814, out of eight hundred and ninety-one thousand six hundred and fifty deaths, were three thousand five hundred and thirty-one from 100 to 132. In a register of deaths in Paris, taken in 1817, there were found in twenty-one thousand three hundred and ninety-two, nine from 95 to 100, and the general proportion of centenaries in that city is one to three thousand.

What are the circumstances most favourable to longevity? This question is not easily answered; for we find in instances of advanced age that some individuals have led a most regular and abstemious life, while others have indulged in various excesses. These observations, however, are by no means calculated to form a conclusive opinion, as the constitutional vigour and peculiar idiosyncrasies of individuals differ widely. It is probable that a regular mode of living is the most likely to prolong our years, whatever may be that regularity in a comparative point of view. A sober man, who commits occasional excesses, is more likely to suffer than another man who gets drunk every night, provided that these excesses do not differ in regard to the quantity or quality of stimulus. In these melancholy instances the excitement is constant, and the indirect debility which it may produce has scarcely time to break down the system ere it is again wound up to its usual pitch, to use the vulgar expression, "by a hair of the same hound." The principal attribute of life that renovates for a while its moral and its physical exhaustion is excitability, and a constant excitement is therefore indispensable, to serve as fuel to the consuming fire. This was to a certain degree the basis on which Brown founded his doctrine. He traced a scale of life like that of a thermometer,--health in the centre, death at each extremity: one scale ascending from health was graduated according to stimulating agency, the other to debilitating causes; and therefore the system was to be stimulated or lowered according to this gradation. It would be foreign to this work to point out the absurdity of this theory, although we must admit its ingenuity, and to a certain extent its correctness. The chief practical objection to it was the diversity of constitutions and idiosyncrasies, and the different action of stimulating or depressing agents in health and in disease; the effects of alimentary and medicinal substances being totally different in these several conditions.

According to habit, a certain sum of stimulus is requisite to keep up the necessary excitement; and this sum cannot be immediately and suddenly withdrawn in weak subjects without some risk; in health, perhaps, the experiment may be safely made at all times, and under any circumstances, although it might be wiser to operate the change by degrees; and it must moreover be recollected, that an habitual drunkard is in a morbid condition, and must be treated accordingly.

Six causes chiefly exert their influence upon life:

1. Climate and soil.

2. Difference of races.

3. Complexion and stature.

4. Period of development during gestation, and of subsequent growth.

5. Mode of living.

6. Moral emotions, occupations.

Climates that are moderately cold are more favourable to long life. This observation equally applies to the vegetable kingdom; and trees that have scarcely attained their full growth in northern regions are drooping in the south. There also we find beasts and birds resisting the inclemency of the weather by the thickness of their coats and plumage, or a layer of grease; while many animals burrow in the earth to seek a state of torpor and insensibility, until restored to active life by a more genial temperature. Dryness of soil is another source of health and life; and the hardy mountaineer's existence is seldom abridged by the diseases that visit the inhabitants of damp and swampy regions. Steril plains are more salubrious than regions covered with a rank and exuberant vegetation, or highly cultivated grounds, from many obvious reasons. The humid earth is not turned up, and decayed vegetable substances are not acted upon in a deleterious manner by the solar heat. When we consider the various causes of disease that must abound in crowded and corrupt cities, we might imagine that mortality would be much greater than in the country; yet observation has not proved this difference to be as material as one might expect, at least as regards disease, the sad effects of poverty and starvation not being taken into account. Various reasons may be assigned for this apparent anomaly. In cities a more regular state of excitement prevails, and man's constant occupations scarcely give him time to attend to slight ailments, that, under other circumstances, might be aggravated. Moreover, intermittent fevers and visceral affections are more frequent in the country; and cottagers are exposed to more constant damp and severer revolutions in the atmospheric constitution than citizens. The mortality amongst men is greater in cities than in women; the latter do not enjoy so long a life in the country. March and April have been found the most fatal months. They are periods of atmospheric transition from cold to a higher temperature, and must therefore prove trying to the weak and the aged. The end of autumn is also deemed a sickly period; and the equinoxes have ever been considered critical, the solstices much less injurious. In Great Britain and the north-westerly regions of Europe, northerly and easterly winds are more prevalent in March, April, and May, owing, it is supposed, to the currents established to replace the warmer air, as it rises from the surface of the Atlantic and more southerly countries. These winds are generally dry and cold, followed by fogs, and give rise to catarrhs, bronchial and pulmonary affections. It is calculated that in our climes pulmonary affections carry off one-fifth of the population, or 191 in 1000.

In regard to the variety of races, it has been observed that those people who sooner attain pubescence are the shortest-lived. Precocious excitement must bring on premature old age. Negroes seldom attain an advanced period of life; and the progress of years is more rapidly descried in their features and their form than in Europeans who have migrated to their clime. The negroes of Congo, Mozambique, and Zanguebar, seldom reach their fiftieth year. In northern latitudes longevity is more frequent: this is observed in Sweden, Russia, Poland, Norway. Some writers have looked upon the established religion of a country as influencing the duration of life; and Toaldo asserted that Christians are shorter-lived than Jews. To this observation it may be remarked, that Jews are in general a very sober, industrious, and active race, circumstances that must materially tend to prolong their days. Moreover, by their legislation they are very careful in the choice of the meat they consume. In Catholic countries fasting may be taken into calculation, not from the effects of abstemiousness, which would be more favourable to health than injurious, but the sudden return to feasting and gormandizing, by way of revenge, when the fast is over. Shrove Tuesday and Easter Sunday are noted in red letters in the gastronomic almanac; and the suppers that follow the midnight masses of Christmas generally require the apothecary's aid on the following morning.[46]

In regard to conformation, very tall and spare subjects are seldom long-lived; and the same observation applies to the stunted and diminutive. A well-set body, with a broad and deep chest, a neck not over-long, with well-formed and firm muscles, generally hold forth a fair prospect of old age.

Children born before the regular period of gestation, those who have been weaned too early, or given to nurses whose milk was not of a proper quality, are seldom strong. Too rapid a growth will also shorten the space of existence.

Our avocations and pursuits materially affect health and the consequent duration of life; and the nature of the excitement man is submitted to produces a remarkable effect. It has been calculated in France that one hundred and fifty-two academicians, whose aggregate years were ten thousand five hundred and eleven, averaged sixty-nine years and two months. The following calculation of Madden will further illustrate this curious subject.

AGES OF GREAT MEN.

Natural Philosophers.

Bacon 78 Buffon 81 Copernicus 70 Cuvier 64 Davy 51 Kepler 60 Laplace 77 Leibnitz 70 Newton 84 Whiston 95 Euler 76 Franklin 85 Galileo 78 Halley 86 Herschel 84 Lalande 75 Lewenhoeck 91 Linnaeus 72 Tycho Brahe 75 Wollaston 62

Poets.

Ariosto 59 Byron 37 Collins 56 Cowper 69 Dryden 70 Gray 57 Milton 66 Pope 56 Spenser 46 Thomson 48 Burns 38 Camoens 55 Cowley 49 Dante 56 Goldsmith 44 Metastasio 84 Petrarch 68 Shenstone 50 Tasso 52 Young 84

Moral Philosophers.

Bacon 65 Berkeley 79 Condillac 65 Diderot 71 Fitche 52 Helvetius 57 Hume 65 Kaimes 86 Malebranche 77 Stewart 75 Bayle 59 Condorcet 51 Descartes 54 Ferguson 92 Hartley 52 Hobbes 91 Kant 80 Locke 72 Reid 86 St. Lambert 88

Dramatists.

Alfieri 55 Goethe 82 Marlow 32 Racine 60 Shakspeare 52 Congreve 59 Crebillon 89 Farquhar 30 B. Jonson 63 Moliere 53 Corneille 78 Massinger 55 Otway 34 Schiller 46 Voltaire 84 Colman 61 Cumberland 80 Goldoni 85 De Vega 73 Murphy 78

Authors on Law and Jurisprudence.

Bentham 85 Butler 83 Erskine 73 Gifford 48 Hale 68 Littleton 75 Montesquieu 66 Romilly 61 Tenterden 78 Vatel 53 Blackstone 57 Coke 85 Filangieri 36 Grotius 63 Holt 68 Mansfield 88 Redesdale 82 Rolle 68 Thurlow 74 Wilmot 83

Miscellaneous and Novel Writers.

Cervantes 70 Scott 62 Smollett 51 Defoe 70 Richardson 72 Johnson 75 Warton 78 Tickell 54 Bathurst 84 Hawkesworth 59 Le Sage 80 Fielding 47 Rabelais 70 Ratcliffe 60 Sterne 56 Addison 48 Steele 59 Montaigne 60 Thornton 44 Hazlitt 58

Authors on Revealed Religion.

Baxter 76 J. Butler 60 Calvin 56 Doddridge 54 J. Knox 67 Luther 63 Melancthon 64 Porteus 77 Sherlock 67 Whitefield 56 Bellarmine 84 Bossuet 77 Chillingworth 43 G. Fox 67 Lowth 77 Massillon 79 Paley 63 Priestley 71 Wesley 88 Wycliffe 61

Authors on Natural Religion.

Annet 55 Cardan 75 Sir W. Drummond 68 N. Freret 61 Lord Herbert 68 St. Pierre 77 Tindal 75 Vannini 34 Bolingbroke 79 Chubb 65 Dupuis 67 Gibbon 58 Spinosa 45 Shaftesbury 42 Toland 53 Volney 66

Medical Authors.

J. Brown 54 Cullen 78 Fordyce 67 Gall 71 Harvey 81 J. Hoffman 83 W. Hunter 66 M. Good 64 Pinel 84 Tissot 70 Corvisart 66 Darwin 72 Fothergill 69 J. Gregory 48 Heberden 92 Hunter 65 Jenner 75 Paracelsus 43 Sydenham 66 T. Willis 54

Philologists.

Bentley 81 Casaubon 55 Hartzheim 70 Heyne 84 Parr 80 Pighius 84 Raphelengius 59 J. J. Scaliger 69 H. Stephens 71 Vossius 73 Burton 64 Cheke 44 J. Harman 77 Lipsius 60 Pauw 61 Porson 50 Salmatius 66 Sigonius 60 Sylburgius 51 Wolfius 64

Artists.

Bandinelle 72 Canova 65 Flaxman 71 Giotto 60 San Sovino 91 A. Caracci 49 David 76 Raphael 37 Salvator Rosa 58 P. Veronese 56 Bernini 82 Donatello 83 Ghiberti 64 M. Angelo 96 Verocchico 56 Claude 82 Guido 67 Reynolds 69 Titian 96 West 82

Musical Composers.

Arne 68 Beethoven 57 Bull 41 Corelli 60 Greby 72 Haydn 77 Kerser 62 Mosart 36 Piccini 71 Scarlatti 78 Bach 66 Burney 88 Cimarosa 41 Gluck 75 Handel 75 Kalkbrenner 51 Martini 78 Paesiello 75 Porpore 78 Weber 40

To this list we may add the following instances of longevity from the late publication of Mr. Farren:

Adling 93 Alcock 91 Bernabel 89 Celdara 90 Canpra 84 Casipini 90 Cervetti 101 Child 90 Creighton 97 Eichole 80 Genimani 96 Gibbons 93 Hasse 90 Hempel 86 Hesse 91 Leveridge 90 Lopez 103 Pittoni 90 Reike 100 Sala 99 Schell 87 Schramm 82 Telleman 86 F. Turner 99 W. Turner 88 Wagennell 98

In regard to the mortality of musicians, we give with much pleasure the following extract from the same work:

"The ages of 468 persons at death, were all that could be obtained from a biography of musicians; of these, 109 born since the year 1740 are excluded, because some of their cotemporaries were yet living at the date of such biography, also 41 more are excluded as having died under 50 years of age. There remain then, the ages at death of 318 persons on which the present observation is made.

"From the ages of 50 years to the end of life, the apparent rate of mortality among musicians, appears very nearly with the lowest known rate, or that which prevails in villages, and it is scarcely probable that such rate should so agree without being the true one. For a musician to belong to the last class of human life, is very credible, when it is considered that eminence can only be attained by close mental devotion to an exalted science, and unremitting application to its practical acquirement, which abstraction would interrupt and intemperance destroy.

"The mean age of musicians, born since 1690, is 67-3/4 years, or two years greater than those born before 1690, from which it might be conveniently concluded, that the moderns were longer lived than the ancients. The case is precisely the reverse, at least for ages above 50, to which alone the materials are applicable. The expectation of life at the age of 60 of the ancients were nearly 15 years, of the modern musicians 13-1/2. The materials (limited as they are) from which these conclusions are drawn, support the doctrine, that the mortality of the moderns is less at middle, but greater at advanced age, than the mortality of the ancients."

Dr. Caspar, of Berlin, in his late very interesting work on the duration of human life, has given the following conclusions:

Medium longevity. Clergymen 65 Merchants 62 Clerks 61 Farmers 61 Military men 59 Lawyers 58 Artists 57 Medical men 56

The results of the other classes, with respect to their united ages, and the average of each, are--

Average. Moral philosophers united ages 1417 70 Sculptors and painters 1412 70 Authors on law and jurisprudence 1394 69 Medical authors united ages 1368 68 Authors on revealed religion 1350 67 Philologists 1323 66 Musical composers 1284 64 Novelists and miscellaneous authors 1257 62-1/2 Dramatists 1249 62 Authors on natural religion 1245 62 Poets 1144 57

This calculation was made most probably in Prussia.

Dr. Caspar's view of longevity are not only highly interesting but, if correct, may lead to many important conclusions. He maintains that--

1. The female sex enjoys, at every period or epoch of life, except at puberty, at which epoch the mortality is greater among young females--a greater longevity than the male sex.

2. Pregnancy and labour occasion, indeed, a considerable loss of life, but this loss disappears or is lost in the general mass.

3. The so-called climacteric periods of life do not seem to have any influence on the longevity of either sex.

4. The medium duration of life at this present time (1835), is in Russia, about 21 years; in Prussia, 29; in Switzerland, 34; in France, 35; in Belgium, 36; and in England, 38 years.

5. The medium duration of life has, in recent times, increased very greatly in most cities of Europe.

6. In reference to the influence of professional occupations in life, it seems that clergymen are on the whole, the longest, and medical men are the shortest livers. Military men are nearly between the two extremes, but yet, proportionably they more frequently than others reach very advanced years.

7. The mortality is very generally greater in manufacturing than in agricultural districts.

8. Marriage is decidedly favourable to longevity.

9. The mortality among the poor is always greater than among the wealthier classes.

10. The mortality in a population appears to be always proportionate to its fecundity--as the number of births increases, so does the number of deaths at the same time.

* * * * *

If this last assertion be correct, Malthus's doctrine must have been idle.

It appears that in general more males are born than females--this difference has been attributed to the age of the parents; when the mother is older than the father the female offspring are more numerous--the same is observed when both parents have attained an advanced age--but when the father's age exceeds that of the mother's, sons are chiefly the result of their union, it has been also observed that widowers are most frequently blessed with daughters.

Quetelet has very justly observed that the laws which preside over the development of man, and modify all his actions, are in general the result of his organization, of his years, his state of independence, the surrounding institutions, local influence, and an infinity of other causes, difficult to ascertain, and many of which, most probably, never can be known. Still if we admit the fact, our wellbeing, in a great measure, rests in our own hands, as the progress of our intellectual attainments may gradually enable us to improve our condition, in most of the points to which we have alluded; and Buffon has observed "that we know not to what extent man may perfect his nature, both in a moral and a physical point of view."

Still the laws of our organization, and which regulate life, appear to be beyond human speculation; and it has been observed that, under ordinary circumstances, we are ruled by a harmonizing system tending to equalize society despite its institutions. Thus, births, marriages, and deaths, appear regulated on a certain scale in proportions singularly similar. This circumstance is rendered obvious by the following tables of nativity at Amsterdam.

+-------+--------------------------------------------------+ | | Still-born. || Born alive. | | |-----------------------||-------------------------| | Years.| Boys. | Girls. |Total.|| Boys. | Girls. | Total. | |-------|-------|--------|------||-------|--------|--------| | 1821 | 288 | 246 | 534 || 3742 | 3600 | 7342 | | 1822 | 280 | 222 | 502 || 3887 | 3713 | 7600 | | 1823 | 268 | 198 | 466 || 3734 | 3448 | 7182 | | 1824 | 266 | 216 | 482 || 4011 | 3849 | 7860 | | 1825 | 207 | 173 | 404 || 3802 | 3559 | 7352 | | 1826 | 231 | 173 | 404 || 3803 | 3635 | 7438 | | 1827 | | | || 3524 | 3366 | 6890 | | 1828 | | | || 3699 | 3529 | 7208 | | 1829 | | | || 3785 | 3618 | 7403 | | 1830 | 241 | 169 | 410 || 3727 | 3579 | 7306 | | 1831 | 208 | 168 | 376 || 3843 | 3499 | 7342 | | 1832 | 210 | 151 | 361 || 3351 | 3101 | 6452 | +----------------------------------------------------------+

A statistical result much similar, was made also in Paris in the Bureau des Longitudes, as appears by the following return:

+------------------------------------------------------------+ | | Still-born. | Born alive. | | |-------------------------|-------------------------| | Years. | Boys. | Girls. | Total. | Boys. | Girls. | Total. | |--------|-------|--------|--------|-------|--------|--------| | 1823 | 847 | 662 | 1509 | 13752 | 13318 | 27070 | | 1824 | 810 | 677 | 1487 | 14647 | 14647 | 28812 | | 1825 | 846 | 675 | 1521 | 14989 | 14264 | 29253 | | 1826 | 810 | 737 | 1547 | 15187 | 14783 | 29970 | | 1827 | 904 | 727 | 1631 | 15074 | 14732 | 29860 | | 1828 | 883 | 743 | 1626 | 15117 | 14484 | 29601 | | 1829 | 925 | 788 | 1713 | 14760 | 13961 | 28721 | | 1830 | 943 | 784 | 1727 | 14488 | 14099 | 28587 | | 1831 | 954 | 755 | 1709 | 15116 | 14414 | 29530 | | 1832 | 994 | 726 | 1720 | 13494 | 12789 | 26283 | +------------------------------------------------------------+

In these statements, of which many to the same effect might be produced, it is singular that the number of still-born infants bears such a regular proportion with the nativity of living ones.

The proportion of deaths to births is also strangely regular, despite the difference of climate, and institutions, and the state of medical science in various countries, as will appear manifest by the following scales:

+----------------------------------------------------------------+ | Cities. |Proportion of inhabitants|Proportion of inhabitants| | | to one death. | to one birth. | |------------|-------------------------|-------------------------| | London | 46 0} | 40 8} | | Glasgow | 46 8} 46 4 | 29 5} 35 2 | | Madrid | 36 0} | 26 0} | | Leghorn | 35 0} | 25 5} | | Lyons | 32 2} | 28 5} | | Moscow | 33 0} | 27 5} | | Palermo | 32 0} 32 3 | 24 5} 27 0 | | Paris | 31 4} | 27 0} | | Lisbon | 31 1} | 28 3} | | Copenhagen | 30 3} | 30 0} | | Hamburg | 30 0} | 25 5} | | Barcelona | 29 5} | 27 0} | | Berlin | 29 0} | 21 0} | | Bordeaux | 29 0} | 24 0} | | Naples | 28 6} | 23 8} | | Dresden | 27 7} 26 6 | 23 0} | | Amsterdam | 27 5} | 26 0} | | Brussels | 25 8} | 21 0} 24 2 | | Stockholm | 24 6} | 27 0} | | Prague | 24 5} | 23 3} | | Rome | 24 4} | 30 6} | | | | 20 0} | | | | 26 5} | | | | 20 0} | | Vienna | 22 5 | 20 0 | | Venice | 19 4} | 26 5} | | Bergamo | 18 0} 18 7 | 20 0} 23 2 | +----------------------------------------------------------------+

While such a regular proportion prevails in births and deaths, a still more singular law seems to regulate the commission of crimes, of which the following registers of the cases brought to trial in France is a proof.

+------------------------------------------------------------------+ | | 1826 | 1827 | 1828 | 1829 | 1830 | 1831 | | |------|------|------|------|------|------+ |Murder in general | 241 | 234 | 227 | 231 | 205 | 266 | |With fire arms | 56 | 64 | 60 | 61 | 57 | 88 | |Swords, daggers, &c. | 15 | 7 | 8 | 7 | 12 | 30 | |Knives | 39 | 40 | 34 | 46 | 44 | 34 | |Sticks, bludgeons, &c. | 23 | 28 | 31 | 24 | 12 | 21 | |Stones, &c. | 20 | 20 | 21 | 21 | 11 | 9 | |Cutting and contusing | | | | | | | | instruments, tools, &c.| 35 | 40 | 42 | 45 | 46 | 49 | |Strangulation | 2 | 5 | 2 | 2 | 2 | 4 | |Drowning | 6 | 16 | 6 | 1 | 4 | 3 | |Kicks, and blows with | | | | | | | | the fist | 28 | 12 | 21 | 23 | 17 | 26 | |Fire | ... | 1 | ... | 1 | ... | ... | |Unknown means | 17 | 1 | 2 | ... | 2 | 2 | +------------------------------------------------------------------+

The criminal statistics of France have produced the following calculation: From 7000 to 7300 criminals are tried every year, out of which number 61 out of 100 are found guilty; 170,000 offenders are charged with minor offences and misdemeanors, of whom 85 in the 100 are condemned to various punishments, and the greatest annual calculation which Quetelet remarks in an annual budget, paid much more regularly than taxes, is as follows:

Condemned to capital punishment 100 to 150 To hard labour for life 280 Hard labour for a period 1050 Imprisonment 1220

The following curious table has been drawn of the causes that excited to the commission of murder and the means resorted to:

+------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Apparent motives, | | |Assassi- | | | |from 1826 to 1829.|Poison.|Murder.| nation.|Incendiary.| Total. | | | | | | | | |------------------|-------|-------|---------|-----------|---------| |Cupidity | 20 | 39 | 237 | 66 | 362 | |Adultery | 48 | 9 | 76 | ... | 133 | |Domestic broils | 48 | 120 | 131 | 84 | 333 | |Jealousy and | | | | | | | debauchery | 10 | 58 | 115 | 37 | 220 | |Revenge, hatred, | | | | | | | and other motives| 23 | 903 | 460 | 229 | 1615 | |------------------|-------|-------|---------|-----------|---------| | Total | 149 | 1129 | 1019 | 366 | 2663[47]| +------------------------------------------------------------------+

To what are we to attribute this apparent regularity in the scale of births, deaths, and the commission of crimes? Are we ruled by certain laws that are only changed in the manifestations of Providence, by peculiar visitations, such as war, famine, and pestilential maladies? What a vast and curious field of research and reflection! what an argument for the fatalist! Man no doubt possesses a moral power that to a certain extent subjugates the creation to his influence and his will. Plants and animals seem to obey certain natural laws, that are only disturbed by perturbative agents; and it is difficult to point out what are the human actions that arise from natural impulses, or from accidental circumstances, although experience would tend to show that they bear a singular proportion in the similarity of their results; and one must come although reluctantly to the conclusion, that this perturbative power exercises but a slender influence on the laws of nature, which seem to set at defiance the destructive efforts of man. Thus have we seen of late years, that the most fearful and long-protracted wars, which one might have imagined would have devastated the fairest parts of Europe, have not checked a surprising increase in its population, and the destructive effects of the most fatal pestilence have vanished with a promptness that seemed to keep pace with the preceding havoc. Bigotry and fanaticism are the only scourges which appear to dare the benevolent views of Providence, and when we traverse the desolate fields of most Roman Catholic countries, one would imagine that Heaven has abandoned their inhabitants to their own blind wills and evil ways. Spain at this period and at many epochs of her bloody history, seems to corroborate the fable of the Titans who sought refuge in that ill-fated land from the anger of the gods.[48]

To return: we find in the preceding resumes of longevity that poets are the shortest-lived; next to them, authors on natural religion, dramatists, and novelists. May not this circumstance be attributed to the fervour of their imagination and to their unequal mode of living? A species of madness is the attribute of genius. Many authors on natural religion may come under the denomination of monomaniacs. The jealous irritability of poets and dramatists,--and next to them in the scale of vanity we find musicians,--may also contribute to wear them out, and bring on various chronic diseases, by digestive derangements; more especially as their habits of living are seldom regular, fits of sobriety alternating with bouts of merry-making. Moral philosophers, painters, and sculptors, whose average life appears the longest, follow more sedentary pursuits; and, although artists in general cannot boast of remarkable discretion in their mode of living, the nature of their profession requires much steadiness. It is moreover to be observed that, in the preceding calculation, historical painters have chiefly been noticed. Would the same calculation apply to the lighter branches of the art? It has been remarked that actors generally attain old age, notwithstanding the fatiguing and harassing nature of their profession. This may be attributed to the constant excitement of a similar nature to which they are subject, as well as to their continued exposure to the sudden transitions from heat to cold, which renders them less susceptible of the variations of temperature that affect those who can avoid these vicissitudes. Any person who would expose himself to the constant checked perspirations to which dancers are liable, would infallibly pay dear for the experiment; and those who have had occasion to witness the fatigues of their exercises, marvel at their not being constantly attacked with pulmonary inflammation, and the many maladies that result from similar exposures. On the very same principle, troops when engaged upon active service do not suffer from the inclemency of the weather, although saturated with wet by day, and sleeping under torrents of rain by night. So long as they are marching with an object in view, this excitement supports them, even against hunger; but the moment this excitement ceases, let them halt, in tranquil cantonments, or commence a retreat under unfavourable circumstances, that moment the invasion of disease is observed. The chief source of health and long life is an equilibrious state of the circulation. This condition a moderate mental excitement tends to maintain. Depression, on the contrary, will produce a languid flow of the vital stream, congestion, and chronic diseases.

On the same principle, good temper and hilarity are also necessary to prolong life. Violent passions must tend to occasion dangerous determinations, while the inward gnawings of offended vanity and pride corrode every viscus, and lay the seeds of future mental and bodily sufferings. Apathy and insensibility are, unfortunately, the best sources of peace of mind, and as Fontenelle observed, a good stomach and a bad heart are essential to happiness. Perhaps the best maxim to prolong our days, and render them as tolerable as possible, is the "Bene vivere et laetari."

I have just observed that conformation materially affects our existence; and this circumstance may in a great measure be referred to temper, and the wear and tear that it occasions in ill-conditioned individuals. Little people seldom attain the longevity of stronger individuals; and it is also a well-known fact that diminutive persons are generally spiteful and malicious. As Providence has bestowed destructive venoms on reptiles, so has it gifted these insignificant members of society with obnoxious qualities, to make amends for their want of physical power in the strategies of attack and defence. The same observation holds good with the deformed; but here we have a moral cause for this sourness of disposition. They too frequently are objects of ridicule, contempt, or pity, sentiments the most humiliating to mankind. In childhood they are not able to partake of the boisterous and active sports of their companions; they have not the power to resent an injury, and the more powerless we are, the greater is our thirst of revenge. Hence does tyranny degrade, and renders its victims cruel and vindictive. The deformed, moreover, find it necessary to improve their intellectual faculties, which in aftertimes fill their quivers with keen shafts of retaliation. In this study they also have more leisure, and they apply to their books while their comrades are at play. This very study adds to their sense of inferiority; they can never hope to share the warrior's laurels, or, what is perhaps still more painful, the myrtle of successful love. Their only chance of success in either of these careers is by kindling wars by their intrigues, or winning a woman's heart by intellectual superiority,--two very improbable events. Thus they gradually envy men who are looked upon by the world as their superiors, and hate women for the preference they show to those privileged individuals. In general we find these ill-shaped beings bitterly sarcastic whenever woman's name is mentioned. Pope, perhaps from these very reasons, was inexhaustible in his abuse of the sex: and Boileau abhorred them, since he had been emasculated by a turkey-cock.

The intellectual superiority of hunchbacks has also been attributed to their physical condition; and it is generally believed that with them the circulation of blood in the brain is more rapid than in well-conformed subjects, and this increased action is supposed to contribute materially to the vivacity of the imagination, and the quickness of apprehension. Another circumstance is said to increase their mental powers, and that is, their continence, considered both by the ancients and the moderns as a source of intellectual energies. Minerva and the Muses were virgins; and in this and other fabulous traditions, we find the ancients illustrating in their mythologic allegories many physical facts and observations. Our Bacon had made the same remark; and Newton, and many other great men, considered the passion of love beneath the dignity of science. Continence and abstinence were deemed by Horace as indispensable privations in the cultivation of genius. In the deformed both are to a certain degree natural, or at least cannot be lost sight of without endangering life. The digestive powers of the deformed are generally weak; and this debility has ever been looked upon as a concomitant of superior intellects. Thus in Celsus, "Imbecilli stomacho pene omnes cupidi litterarum sunt;" while on the contrary, "Obesus venter non parit subtilem intellectum."

The common expression of a child being too clever to live, is unfortunately founded on observation. Scrofulous and sickly children are in general remarkable for the quickness of their intellects; and Rousseau maintained that a man who could meditate was a depraved animal. It is a fact that the perfection of one faculty can seldom be attained but at the expense of others. The more our faculties are generally called into action, the less perfect will they be individually;--"Pluribus intentus, minor est ad singula." Thus, the singing of birds is improved by depriving them of sight.

The influence of the mind upon our health is as evident as the influence of our health in the duration of existence. This corollary explains the shortness of life of the diminutive and the deformed, unconnected with such physical defects of organization as might impede the due exercise of their organs.

The fable of Prometheus is a strong illustration of the pernicious effects of intemperance; and by Darwin, and other physiologists, has been considered as comparing the celestial fire that he purloined, to the artificial inspirations of excitement that ultimately preys upon the liver and the other viscera like a voracious vulture. A much deeper philosophy is concealed in this theogenic allegory. Prometheus was the son of Japetus; brother to Atlas, Menoetius, and Epimetheus, who all surpassed mankind in fraud and in guilt. Prometheus himself scoffed the gods, and violated their shrine. Heaven and Earth had formed his father, who had united his destinies with Clymene, one of the Oceanides. Thus Prometheus and Epimetheus arose from the very cradle of the universe; and their very names, [Greek: Promandanein] and [Greek: Epimandanein], signify foresight and improvidence,--praediscere et postea discere,--the prevalent characteristics of all mortals, that either tend to promote or retard the progress of human reason and human happiness. Prometheus strove impiously to possess himself of Divine knowledge, and created man with a base amalgam of earth and the bones of animals, vivified by the celestial fire he had obtained. Jupiter, indignant at his audacity, commanded Vulcan to create a beauteous tempter in the form of woman, on whom every attractive gift might be conferred; and Pandora was sent upon earth with the fatal present of the father of the gods, the box that contained all the evils and distempers that were destined for mankind. The foresight of Prometheus resisted her charms; his improvident brother opened the dreaded casket. Have we not here an illustration of the vanity of science, that aims even at Divine attributes, and whose votaries, like Prometheus, would endeavour, if possible, to deprive wisdom of her power, and break down the boundaries of human intellects? His punishment describes in energetic language the endless and consuming studies of the learned, whose very viscera are corroded in lucubrations too often fruitless, and not unfrequently injurious to themselves and others. Hercules alone could relieve him from his torments:--and does not Hercules in this allegory typify the power of reason, that enables us to release the mind from the trammels both of ignorance and vanity, separated from each other by a gossamer partition? Prometheus, who could resist the most powerful of temptations,--beauty and talent combined,--dared Olympus to seek for that wisdom which would have doomed him to everlasting sufferings, had not strength of mind and the powers of reflection destroyed his merciless tormentor. Can we be surprised that the ancients consecrated games to this beautiful allegory?--games that are still carried on in our days; but, alas! where every vain competitor pretends that he has reached the goal with an unextinguished torch!

CRETINISM.

This singular disorder was first discovered and noticed by Plater, about the middle of the seventeenth century, among the poor inhabitants of Carinthia and the Valais, where, as in the valleys of the Lower Alps and the Pyrenees, it is also found to be an endemic affection. According to Sir George Staunton, it is also observed in Chinese Tartary. It has been erroneously confounded by some writers with bronchocele and rachitis, from both of which it is totally distinct.

Cretinism presents various modifications in kind, and every intermediate grade between that extreme degree of physical and mental debasement which is characterized by the utmost deformity, and entire absence of mental manifestation, the organic and vegetative functions only being performed. There are certain circumstances that distinguish cretins from idiots; and their infirmities appear to depend upon endemic or local causes, regarding which much diversity of opinion has prevailed both amongst medical men and travellers.

The cretins were also called Cagots and Capots. In Navarre these unfortunates go by the name of Gaffos and Ganets; and in various valleys of the Pyrenees they are called Gezits or Gezitains. Near La Rochelle, some of them are also found, and there they are known by the appellation of Coliberts; and in Britanny Cacons and Cagneux. The derivation of these names shows the contempt and disgust that they excited,--Cagot, according to Scaliger, being derived from Canis Gottus, or Dog of a Goth; Colibert is traced to quasi libertus, or slave. The Spaniards call them Gavachos, a term of reproach, which they also applied to the French during the Peninsular struggle.

The body of these poor creatures is stunted, their height not exceeding four feet. There is a total want of due proportion between it and the other parts, the height of the head with reference to the body being from one-fourth to one-fifth, instead of one-eighth, the natural proportion; the neck is strong, and bent downwards; the upper limbs reach below the knees, and the arm is shorter than the fore-arm; the chest narrow, the abdomen hemispherical, and of a length not exceeding the height of the head; the thighs, with the haunches, of greater width than the shoulders, and shorter than the legs, the calves of which are wanting; the feet and toes distorted. In the head, the masticating organs, the lower jaw, and the nose, preponderate considerably over the organs of sense and intelligence; the skull is depressed, and forms a lengthened and angular ellipsis; the receding forehead presents internally large frontal sinuses, to which the brain has yielded part of its place; the top of the head is flattened, instead of being vaulted; the occiput projects but slightly, and runs almost even with the nape of the neck, as in ruminating animals. The face is neither oval nor round, but spread out in width; the eyes are far apart, slightly diverging, small, and deep-seated in their orbits; the pupil contracted, and not very sensitive to light; the eyelids, except when morbidly swollen, are flaccid and pendent. Their look is an unmeaning stare, and turns with indifference from every thing that is not eatable. The elongated form of the lower jaw, the thick and puffed lips, give them a greater resemblance to ruminating creatures than to man. The tongue is rather cylindrical than flat, and the saliva is constantly running from the angles of their mouth. Enlargement of the thyroid glands generally prevails, sometimes to an enormous extent. Indeed, this appearance is commonly considered as a distinguishing sign of cretinism. The other glands of the throat are also obstructed. Many of these poor wretches are both deaf and dumb; yet do they appear unconscious of their miserable existence. Stretched out or gathered up under the solar rays, their head drooping in idiotic apathy, they are only roused from their torpor when food is presented to them.

This endemic malady is supposed to arise from the use of snow-water, or of water impregnated with calcareous earth. Both of these opinions are without foundation. All the inhabitants of districts near the glaciers, drink snow and ice waters without being subject to the disorder; and the common waters of Switzerland, strongly impregnated with calcareous substances, are most salubrious. At Berne, the waters are extremely pure, yet Haller observed that swellings of the throat are not uncommon. De Saussure has assigned another cause, and refers the disorder to the physical features of the mountainous districts in which it prevails. The valleys, he tells us, are surrounded with very high mountains, sheltered from currents of fresh air, and exposed to the direct, and what is worse, the reflected rays of the sun. They are marshy, and hence the atmosphere is humid, close, and oppressive. When to these chorographical causes, he further says, we add the domestic ones, which are also well known to prevail among the poor of these regions,--such as innutritious food, indolence, and uncleanliness, with a predisposition to the disease from an hereditary taint of many generations,--we can sufficiently account for the prevalence of cretinism in such places, and for the most humiliating characters it is ever found to assume.

This specious reasoning, however, is overthrown by observation. In the first instance, this character of the country does not affect its other inhabitants; and secondly, the goitre is found in warm latitudes, and Mungo Park observed it amongst the Africans of Bambara, on the banks of the Niger. Marsden has also seen it at Sumatra. Moreover, this affection is scarcely ever seen in the mountains, but principally prevails in the valleys.

It is more than probable that these ill-favoured creatures belong to a particular race; for we must take care not to confound goitre with cretinism, since goitre is common where cretinism is prevalent. It has been remarked that the offspring of the natives of the Valais who intermarry with persons from the Italian side of the Alps, are more subject to goitres than those born of native parents; and that females who have husbands from the higher Alps, seldom have children affected with this infirmity. It is pretty clear that in these observations, goitre and cretinism are confounded.

That these miserable cagots belong to a particular race of men, most probably accidentally degraded in their transmission from our primitive stock, appears most likely. We have sought the derivation of the several terms of contempt and disgust attached to them in different countries, to which migration may have led their parents. Some writers have traced their descent to the Goths and Vandals, thus chastised for their devastations. Gebelin, Belleforet, and Ramont consider them as descendants of the Visigoths; while Marca, bishop of Couserans, denounces them at once as Jews and Saracens; and other clerical writers have maintained that they are the miserable relicts of the heretic Albigenses who had escaped the holy massacres of 1215; although there did exist cagots in the year 1000, in the abbey of St. Luc, as they are described in a for of Navarre, bearing date 1074, and issued by Ramirez.

These helpless beings have also been considered as the offspring of Bohemians and gipsies. Bishop, or rather Senator Gregoire, maintained that they sprung from the hordes of northern barbarians who overran the south of Europe in the third and fourth centuries. Whatever might have been the origin of these poor creatures, they seem to share that ignominious destiny that has marked various races in different countries. The Agotos of Navarre, the Maragotos of Leon, the Batuecos of Castile, the Wendes of Silesia, are all held in as much contempt as the Parias and the Vaddahs of India. Even in Otaheite a degraded caste was found, from which victims were selected to appease Divine wrath, or propitiate their gods.

The traditional contempt in which certain races are held, a contempt that seems to have affected their physical appearance, may perhaps be traced to the degradation of slavery, that seems to deprive man of all his proud attributes, both in a moral and physical point of view. The effects of tyranny, and the distinctions that oppression has created in the several castes and ranks of mankind, are every where evident. What a difference exists in Scotland between the chieftains and the humbler individuals of their clans!--between the naires of India and their vassals! In France, said Buffon, you may distinguish by their aspect, not only the nobility from the peasantry, but the superior order of nobility from the inferior, these from the citizens, and citizens from the peasants. "The field-slaves in America," observes the enlightened Dr. Smith, "are badly clothed, fed, and lodged, live in small huts in the plantations, remote from the example and society of their superiors. Living by themselves they retain many of the customs and the manners of their ancestors. The domestic servants, on the other hand, who are kept near the persons or employed in the families of their masters, are treated with great lenity, their service is light, they are well fed and clothed. The field-slaves, in consequence of their condition, are slow in changing the aspect and figure of Africa; while the domestic servants have advanced far before them in acquiring the agreeable and regular features, and the expressive countenance, of civilized society. The former are frequently ill-shaped; they preserve in a great degree the African lips, and nose, and hair; their genius is dull, and their countenances sleepy and stupid. The latter are straight and well proportioned; their hair extends to three or four, sometimes even to six or eight inches; the size of their mouth is handsome, their features regular, their capacity good, and their looks animated." Dr. Prichard has also stated that similar changes become visible in the third and fourth generations in the West India islands; and I have seen several negresses in those colonies perfectly beautiful. In the Bahama islands I knew a female slave of the name of Leah, belonging to my late friend Mr. Commissary Brookes, as black as jet, and descended in the third generation from African parents, whose features would have vied in symmetry with the fairest specimen of the Caucasian race.

Let us not, therefore, seek in snow-water or calcareous impregnations for the causes of deformity and degradation in any unfortunate castes of mankind. Their misery may more probably be traced to the iron rod of despotism, or the oppression of bigotry,--influences that mark out races as abject slaves, or objects of Divine wrath, that ought to be scorned by the wealthy and the powerful, and spurned and persecuted by the faithful and the elect; although, when it has served its purposes, priestcraft has held up the cagot, and the leper, and the idiot, as objects of veneration. When the tourist, in his Alpine and Pyrenean excursions, meets a wretched cagot, let him pause and contemplate the offspring of slavery, and reflect on what man is, and on what man might be,--nay, on what man will be.

TEMPERAMENTS.

The different prevalent propensities in various individuals, the development of which appeared to be under the influence of a certain and constitutional organization, have received the name of temperaments; or, rather, this term applies to this peculiar organization of the constitution or idiosyncrasy. The Greek physiologists were the first to classify these peculiarities, or temperamenta,--the naturae of Hippocrates, the mixturae of Galen. They considered organized bodies as an assemblage of elements endowed with different properties, but combined in such manner that their union should constitute a whole, in which none of them should predominate in a healthy condition; but, on the contrary, they were to modify and temper each other, their simultaneous action being directed and controlled by the spirit of life, spiritus. It was the due combination of these elements that constituted a perfect temperament; their aberrancy produced disease of body or of mind.

The ancients divided these elements into cold and hot, dry and moist; from the combination of these principles they classified the fluids of the body. The blood was hot and moist, the bile hot and dry, the phlegm cold and damp, and the melancholy cold and dry. This division led to a further classification; and temperaments, according to the predominance of these elements, were divided into the sanguineous, the bilious, the phlegmatic, and the melancholic.

These supposed radical fluids, influencing the whole animal frame, were dependent upon certain organs for their specific production. The blood was furnished by the heart, the phlegm by the head, the yellow bile by the gall-duct, and the black bile or atrabile,--the principle of melancholy,--by the spleen. Notwithstanding the many revolutions in the doctrine of physiology that have shaken the schools since the days of Hippocrates, this classification of his has remained to a certain degree to the present day, and has laid the foundation of all the systems of temperaments, constitutions, and natural characters, that have at various periods been advanced by philosophers; the only novel introduction in this ancient classification being the nervous temperament, which, after all, is only a modification of the four other categories.

To illustrate the operations of these temperaments, it became necessary to adopt terms expressive of their combination, and temper and humour were adopted. Both are Latin terms; the first, in its original sense, imports mingling, modifying, tempering the four radical fluids, and producing that equilibrious condition of the frame, termed constitution. Humour was derived from the Greek [Greek: chumos], chumos; and its radical sense imported moisture, or fluid of any kind. Hence humid and humidity. This doctrine of fluidity is still applied to many functions that we cannot otherwise describe, and we talk, although in a figurative manner, of the nervous fluid, the vital fluid; and a good humour, a bad humour, a vein of humour, or a humorous vein, are illustrations of peculiar tempers and temperaments,--for temperaments are still distinguished by the same terms applied to them by the ancients, and we describe one man as choleric, or bilious, for choler ([Greek: chole]) means bile; another as being melancholic; a third of a sanguine disposition; and a fourth of a phlegmatic habit. The sanguine, that imports a predominance of the blood, indicated a warm and ardent exuberance of spirits; whereas the phlegmatic, denoting a thin and cold watery fluid, referred to a frigid and spiritless indolence.

We thus see that modern physiology has scarcely advanced this branch of science, for the nervous temperament may be considered as merely a modification of the other ones; and it is more than probable that the old classification will long prevail, notwithstanding the ingenuity of modern hypotheses. Husson divided the temperaments into those that referred to the vascular system, to the nervous system, and to the muscular system, with subdivisions applied to regions and to organs; all these temperaments being either natural and primitive, or acquired. Dr. Thomas, of Paris, has founded his arrangement according to the predominance of the head, chest, or abdomen,--or the mental, circulatory, or digestive organs,--and according to the relative bulk and predominance of these three regions will be the relative energy of the mental, muscular, or abdominal functions. Notwithstanding the ingenuity of these systems, the old arrangement, as I have already observed, is likely to prevail; and as Blumenbach observes, that although this division was founded on an imaginary depravation of the elements of the blood, if made to stand alone it will prove both natural and intelligible.

This division I shall therefore endeavour to illustrate. In the sanguineous temperament the heart and arteries possess a predominant energy; the pulse is strong, frequent and regular; the veins blue, full, and large; the complexion florid, the countenance animated, the stature erect, the muscular forms marked and firm; the hair of a yellow, auburn, or chestnut colour; the nervous impressions acute, the perception quick, the memory retentive, the imagination lively and luxuriant, the disposition passionate but not vindictive, and passion is easily appeased; amorous, and fond of conviviality and good cheer.

In this temperament we find athletic strength and fortitude of mind in resisting the power of external agency, with mental tranquillity in the midst of danger; a calmness arising from a consciousness of power, and from less acuteness of external impressions and mental perceptions. Such a man, when roused to action, will endeavour to surmount every physical difficulty; but he will rarely attain pre-eminence in sciences and the fine arts, which require exquisite sensibility and mobility,--qualities seldom met with in such forms as those described by the poets in Hercules and Ajax.

In the choleric or bilious temperament the liver and biliary organs are as redundant in their power as the sanguineous vessels, and, for the most part, at the expense of the excernent or cellulous and lymphatic system. The pulse is strong and hard, but more frequent than in the sanguineous; the veins superficial and projecting; the sensibility extremely acute and easily excited, with a capacity of pondering for a long time on the same object. The skin is sallow, with a tendency to a yellow tinge; the hair black or dark brown; the body moderately fleshy, the muscles firm and well marked, the figure expressive; the temper of the mind abrupt, impetuous, and violent,--bold in the conception of a project, inflexible in its pursuit, persevering and dauntless in its execution. These are the temperaments that have urged men both to noble and to execrable deeds. Such were Alexander, Brutus, Mahomet, Cromwell, Charles the Twelfth, Robespierre, Napoleon. All these celebrated characters evinced from their earliest youth the ambitious nature of their dispositions; and though circumstances might have checked the development of their predominant passions, it was also to adventitious circumstances that they owed their elevation, and the opportunities of displaying their good or evil qualities. Most of these men were irascible, vindictive, and cruel, and equally susceptible of ardent love and mortal hate. In these temperaments we find a mixed exuberance of blood and bile in a constant struggle for predominance.

The melancholy or atrabilious temperament is of a different character. Here the biliary organs are brought into a constant and a morbid action, while the sanguineous system is weak and irregular. In these gloomy subjects the skin assumes a sallow, unearthly tinge, the pulse is hard and contracted, the digestive functions torpid and irregular, the imagination is gloomy and full of suspicion, and a dark gloom is shed on all around the morbid sufferer, for such he may be called, since the condition under which he labours may be considered one of disease. These subjects are prone to various monomanias; uncertain, fickle, and oftentimes capriciously cruel. Tiberius and Louis the Eleventh are quoted as examples of this temperament. Many melancholic individuals have displayed great genius, and at the same time great depth of thought. Richerand considers Tasso, Pascal, Zimmermann, and Rousseau as illustrating this unhappy disposition.

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