Curiosities of Medical Experience (part 4 of 4)

Curiosities of Medical Experience (part 4 of 4)

The fourth temperament is the phlegmatic, lymphatic, pituitous, or watery, for all these terms used by different physiologists are synonymous. Here the proportion of fluids is too considerable for that of the solids; hence the body attains a considerable, unwholesome bulk. The muscles are soft and flaccid, the skin fair and transparent, the hair flaxen or sandy, the pulse weak and slow, all the vital actions are languid, the memory little tenacious, and the attention wavering; an insurmountable indolence prevails; and, averse to mental and corporeal exercise, the far niente is their greatest enjoyment, and a nightcap is preferable to a diadem. These subjects are generally good, easy persons; susceptible of kindly feelings, but of a transient nature. Their mind is generally depraved by effeminacy, and their love is purely animal. They are not courageous; yet they show great tranquillity of mind in moments of danger, and would rather quietly sink than struggle with the waves. If their dwelling was on fire, they would calmly walk out of it, but not exert themselves to put down the conflagration; and, when hereditary power places them at the helm of a state, a wreck of the vessel may be speedily expected, unless the sceptre is wrested from their feeble hands by the choleric or the atrabilious enthusiast.

The fifth, or nervous temperament, as I have already stated, may be considered of a complex nature, as it influences the sanguineous as well as the choleric, the melancholy, and the phlegmatic. In this constitution the sentient system predominates, and there exists a great susceptibility to all external impressions. This temperament is generally acquired, and proceeds from a sedentary life, too great an enjoyment of sensual pleasures, and fanciful ideas brought on by romantic readings and romantic thoughts indulged in hours of idleness. The determination of such individuals is prompt, but uncertain; their affections warm for a while, are selfish and fickle; their sensations are vivid, but leave no impressions. Women, especially when educated in boarding-schools, essentially belong to this class, and are subject to hysterical and convulsive affections that render them a plague to others and a nuisance to themselves. In man the muscles are small, flabby, and wasted. The nervous may possess much vivacity of conception, but no depth of judgment; and, in general, their productions are as morbid as their mind. This condition frequently attends the melancholy temperament, "that wings the soul, and points her to the skies."

Nervous excitability seldom prevails in the sanguineous constitution, where muscular masses are pronounced in athletic forms. Hence the sanguineous are not easily brought into action; but, when once roused, their energies are irresistible. This power is beautifully described by Virgil in the conflict between Entellus and Dares; still are these exertions governed by nervous influence, and the result of the excitability and contractibility of the muscular fibre, termed by Chaussier its myotility.

Mason Good has very justly observed that these temperaments, or generic constitutions, are perpetually running into each other, and consequently that not one of them, perhaps, is to be found in a state of full perfection in any individual; he further aids this remark by the following illustration: "Strictly speaking, Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox belonged equally, in the main, to the second temperament; there was the same ardour, genius and comprehensive judgment in both, with a considerable tendency to the sanguineous, and hence with more irritability, but more self-confidence, audacity, and sanguine expectation: the latter, while possessing the same general or bilious temperament, was at the same time more strongly inclined to the lymphatic, and hence his increased corporeal bulk, and with less bold and ardent expectation he possessed one of the sweetest and most benevolent dispositions to be met with in the history of the world. The first was formed to be revered, the second to be beloved; both to be admired and immortalized."

I apprehend that a profound study of human temperaments and propensities may afford a more desirable guide in the education of youth, and the selection of men in the different concerns of life, than that of either physiognomy or phrenology; although the temperament must materially affect the general character of the countenance. Yet, from the apparent prevalence of any temperament we are not to form a rash and hasty judgment in regard to the future capacities or propensities of youth. As one temperament runs into another, and assumes a complex form, so can education regulate the one that naturally predominates, and modify it by a fusion with another. Thus, the restlessness of the bilious and choleric may be attuned to a phlegmatic state by the power of reason, and the brute courage and audacity of the sanguineous checked by inspiring sentiments of true valour. That every temperament, excepting perhaps the phlegmatic, is capable of displaying bravery, has been well described by Joanna Baillie in the following lines:

The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he whose noble soul its fear subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from. As for your youth, whom blood and blows delight, Away with them!--there is not in their crew One valiant spirit.

SOLAR INFLUENCE.

While both ancient and modern physiologists were of opinion that the various phenomena of organized bodies were influenced by lunar phases, the power of the solar rays was not less active in regulating our functions both in health and in disease. The name of Phoebus signified the torch of life, and Apollo was the father of medicine and the fine arts. The sun was considered as a deity in most countries, the Supreme Being,--the father of light, Diespiter,--Jupiter, Jehovah, the creator of all living matter,--the residence of the Most High--In sole posuit tabernaculum suum, said the Psalmist;--and in Egypt three hundred and sixty-five priests were ordained to watch its heavenly movements during the year, while many philosophers attributed the propagation of the human race to the union of man with the orb of day. The disciples of Plato and Pythagoras considered it as possessing a soul; and Origenus, in his Periarchon, maintained that it displayed both virtues and vices,--an heretical doctrine very properly condemned by the second Synod of Constantinople; and, although St. Augustin was of that opinion, it was warmly combated by St. Basil and St. Ambrose, and many other beatified divines. Anaxagoras, on the contrary, considered this luminary to be a burning stone; Plato called it a compact fire; Aristotle maintained that it was formed of one-fifth of the elements that constitute the planets; Epicurus, a mass of lava, or ignited pumice-stone; Xenophon asserted that it was fed by exhalations, and Zeno by watery vapours; Empedocles considered it a translucent body; Philolaus, a concave mirror, concentrating the rays of light from every part of the universe to reflect it upon nature. Kepler was of a similar opinion, and further insisted that the sun was composed of a limpid fluid upon which a luminous aether was reflected, whence its centre was blue, while the limbs were yellow. A modern philosopher, Woodward, attempts to show that the sun and fixed stars are masses of electric fluid, requiring no alimentation, yielding no smoke, and the light that emanates from them offers the bluish brilliancy of the electric spark. It has been justly observed, that if, like Eudoxus, we endeavoured to approach this luminary, the better to study and describe its nature, we should still remain in impenetrable darkness,--in which I must leave the matter, to confine myself to those influences which experience seems to show that the sun actually exercises on the animal economy.

The genial and invigorating glow that moderate solar heat produces has ever been considered as tending to prolong our life. Hippocrates observed, that old men are double their age in winter, and younger in summer. To enjoy this reviving influence, the ancients had terraces on their house-tops called solaria, in which, to use their own expression, they took a solar air-bath. Pliny the younger, in speaking of his uncle, tells us, Post cibum, aestate, si quid otii, jacebat in sole. The ancients fancied that when the sun rose diseases declined, and Levato sole levatur morbus became a medical axiom. Aristotle records the case of an innkeeper of Tarentum, who, although able to attend to his business by day, became insane so soon as the sun had set. The moderns relate many similar instances of derangement brought on by the absence of solar influence. Bouillon mentions a woman who lost her senses at sunset, but who recovered them at break of day. Other cases are recorded of a different nature, when maladies were aggravated by this influence. Sauvage tells us of a woman who became maniacal whenever the sun was at its zenith; an influence that could not be prevented even by various stratagems, such as keeping her in a dark room, and deceiving her in regard to the hour. Humboldt knew a Spanish lady in Madrid who lost her voice the moment the sun dipped in the horizon, but the paralysis of the nerves of the tongue ceased the following morning. A removal to Naples cured this singular affection. Parham relates the cases of several individuals who were deprived of vision when the sun had set. In a former paper I have alluded to the effects of a vivid flood of light upon the Italian peasantry, as observed by Ramazzini. Daily practice shows us that the paroxysms of fever and various maladies are under a similar influence; and the evening gun in our garrisons is often the signal of severe exacerbation in certain febrile cases, while the reveillee develops acute aggravation in others. Sydenham and Floyer had observed that the gout and asthma were usually ushered in after our first sleep; and I have noticed that, during the prevalence of the cholera, the invasion of this fatal disorder generally occurred towards daybreak. The ancients divided their elementary predominance according to the diurnal cycle: thus, morning regulated the blood, noon the bile, evening the atrabile, and night the cold phlegmatic influence. Nor was this arrangement unnatural; we more or less observe it in a state of health, when man awakes refreshed and active at morn; towards noon his train of thoughts becomes more serious and busy; in the evening his mind is more gloomy and susceptible of unpleasant impressions; until night either sheds its poppies o'er his couch, or agitates his frame with its fearful dreams. The repose of night is ever more refreshing than that of day, however we may have changed the natural applications of our hours, and find, as Seneca said of Roman civilization, that antipodes habemus in urbe. The influence of night and day is equally observable in animals. Towards evening myriads of insects, who had shunned the solar heat, hum around us; while night calls forth its choristers; and as they cease to sing other creatures proclaim the dawn. Some animals, such as the simia beelzebud, and the simia seniculus, salute both the setting and the rising sun with fearful howls; and it may be considered as a law of nature, that we cannot turn night into day with impunity.

Dr. Balfour's opinion on the influence of the heavenly bodies is of great weight: he conceives that the influence of the sun and moon when in a state of conjunction, which he names solar-lunar influence, produces paroxysms or exacerbations in continued fever, in all cases at least where paroxysms are observable. As this influence declines in consequence of the gradual separation of these luminaries from each other, and their getting into a state of opposition, a way is left open for a critical and beneficial change; in other words, that paroxysms and exacerbations in fever may be expected to take place at spring-tides, and crises at neap-tides.

It has been observed in intermitting fevers, that paroxysms of the quotidian recur in the morning, the tertian at noon, and the quartan in the afternoon; in no instance do they take place at night.

There can be no doubt that lunation, more especially in tropical climes, influences diseases; but the effects of insolation are every where observable. One of the most serious accidents resulting from this exposure is the ictus solis, the coup de soleil of the French, and the [Greek: siriasis] of the Greeks, from the star Sirius, to whose influence they attributed the scorching heat of the dog-days. This attack is in general sudden, and the patient falls down as if struck with a blow on the head. Troops on a march, and labourers in the field, frequently are the victims of this solar power, which usually kills them on the spot. It has been known to destroy great numbers. In Pekin, from the 14th of July to the 25th, in the year 1743, it is related that eleven thousand persons were struck dead. On a hot day's march in Portugal, I lost six men in a brigade under my charge. They first reeled as if under the influence of liquor, and then fell dead with a slight convulsive struggle. One of them, the batman of the paymaster of the 3rd foot, or Buffs, was struck dead while speaking to me. A great number of greyhounds perished on the same march; but no other species of dog seemed to suffer, although we had many pointers and spaniels with us. Horses, mules, and cattle were also exempt from the attack, though it proved fatal to some weak donkeys who were following the troops. The shakos worn by our army are well calculated to preserve the soldier from these accidents, to which troops are constantly exposed during summer operations.

SWEATING FEVER.

This disastrous pestilence, which proved, if possible, more fatal and terrific than the cholera, made its first appearance in London, in 1480 or 1483, first showing itself in the army of Henry VII. on his landing at Milford Haven. In London it only broke out a year or two after, and visited that capital occasionally for upwards of forty years. It then spread to Holland, Germany, Belgium, Flanders, France, Denmark, and Norway, where it continued its ravages from 1525 to 1530; it then returned to England, and was observed for the last time in 1551.

Dr. Caius calls it a pestilential fever of one day; and it prevailed, he says, with a mighty slaughter, and the description of it was as tremendous as that of the plague of Athens. Dr. Willis states that its malignity was so extreme, that as soon as it entered a city it made a daily attack on five or six hundred persons, of whom scarcely one in a hundred recovered. This malignant fever ran its course in a single paroxysm; and the cold fit and hot fit were equally fatal. If the patient was fortunate enough to reach the sweating stage, he was in general saved. It commenced its attack with a pain in the muscles of the neck, shoulders, legs, and arms, through which a warm aura seemed to creep; after these symptoms a profuse perspiration broke forth. The internal organs grew gradually hot and burning, the pungent heat extending to the extremities; with an intolerable thirst, sickness soon followed by jactitation, coma, and delirium. At Shrewsbury it raged for seven months, and carried off upwards of one thousand patients. The invasion of this terrific disorder was generally preceded by a thick noisome fog, especially in Shropshire. A dark cloud usually took the lead, and the distemper followed its course. It is somewhat singular, but most fatal contagions have been ushered in, both in ancient and modern times, by noxious fogs or mists, with clouds of various insects, either bending their course in innumerable bodies, covering vegetation, or falling in dead heaps upon the ground. The disease was generally supposed to arise from inclement seasons and injured grain; particularly wheat infested with the mildew or smut, or rye attacked with the spur. It was observed by Dr. Willan, that the contemporary inhabitants of Scotland and Wales, who fed on barley and oats, were not affected.

One of the most singular features of this malady was its only attacking the English. Foreigners, and even the Scotch and Irish, in England, seemed to be exempted from this scourge, which attacked the monarch himself, and two Dukes of Suffolk, who sunk under its virulence. In Westminster the number of daily deaths averaged one hundred and twenty. It may be easily imagined that this special liability of Englishmen to contract the disease was attributed to Divine wrath for their manifold offences; and we find the following lines in Phemtophius:

Coelestia numina nobis Nil sunt quam nugae, fabula, verba, jocus: Inde fames nobis, pestes, Mars; denique fontem Hinc etiam inclemens [Greek: idoonretos] habet, Saevum, horrendum, atrox genus immedicabile morbi, Nostrae perfidiae debitum.

Dr. Armstrong has also recorded this peculiar visitation in the following:

Some, sad at home, and, in the desert, some, Abjur'd the fatal commerce of mankind. In vain: where'er they fled, the Fates pursued. Others, with hopes more specious, cross'd the main, To seek protection in far distant skies; But none they found. It seemed, the general air From pole to pole, from Atlas to the East, Was then at enmity with English blood; For, but the race of England, all were safe In foreign climes; nor did this Fury taste The foreign blood which England then contained.

That the atmosphere was saturated by this disease was obvious from the circumstance of vast numbers of birds falling dead, when, upon examination, pestilential swellings were found under their wings. Schiller attributed the disease to sideral influence. England, however, was not the only country where the wrath of Heaven was considered as having fulminated this scourge! and at Marburg it had such an effect, that it actually put an end to the violent disputes between Luther and Zuingle concerning the Eucharist, and which were on the eve of kindling a religious war.

A disease somewhat similar manifested itself in Picardy in 1773, having first appeared at Hardivilliers, five leagues from Beauvais; but, instead of terminating in a single day, it ran on to the third, fifth, and seventh: a fever of the same description was also observed in Gascony.

But of all the maladies that affect cutaneous transpiration, diapedesis, or sweating of blood, is the most singular; so much so, indeed, that its existence has been doubted, although several well authenticated cases are on record, both in the ancient and modern annals of medicine. It is mentioned by Theophrastus and Aristotle, while Lucan thus describes it:

Sic omnia membra Emisere simul rutilum pro sanguine virus. Sanguis erant lacrymae; quacumque foramina novit Humor, ab his largus manat cruor: ora redundant, Et patulae nares; sudor rubet; omnia plenis Membra fluunt venis: totum est pro vulnere corpus.

The detestable Charles IX. of France sunk under this disorder, thus described by Mezeray: "La nature fit d'etranges efforts pendant les deux dernieres semaines de la vie de ce Roi. Il s'agitait et se remuait sans cesse; le sang lui rejalliait par les pores et par tous les conduits de son corps. Apres avoir longtems souffert, il tomba dans une extreme faiblesse et rendit l'ame." The same historian relates the case of a governor of a town taken by storm, who was condemned to die, but was seized with a profuse sweating of blood the moment he beheld the scaffold. Lombard mentions a general who was affected in a similar manner on losing a battle. The same writer tells us of a nun who was so terrified when falling into the hands of a ruthless banditti, that blood oozed from every pore. Henry ab Heer records the case of a man who not only laboured under diapedesis, but small worms accompanied the bloody secretion.

In the Memoirs of the Society of Arts of Haarlem, we read of the case of a sailor, who, falling down during a storm, was raised from the deck streaming with blood. At first it was supposed that he had been wounded, but, on close examination, the blood was found to flow from the surface of the body. Fabricius de Hilden mentions a case that came under the observation of his friend Sporlinus, a physician of Bale; the patient was a child of twelve years of age, who never drank any thing but water: having gone out into the fields to bring home his father's flocks, he stopped upon the road, and contrary to habit, drank freely of white wine. He shortly after was seized with fever. His gums first began to bleed, and soon after an haemorrhage broke out from every part of the integuments, and from the nose. On the eighth day of the malady he was in a state of extreme debility, and the body was covered with livid and purple spots, while every part from whence the blood had exuded was stopped with clots. A case is also related of a widow of forty-five years of age, who had lost her only son. She one day fancied that she beheld his apparition beseeching her to relieve him from purgatory by her prayers, and by fasting every Friday. The following Friday, in the month of August, a perspiration tinged with blood broke out. For five successive Fridays the same phenomenon appeared, when a confirmed diapedesis appeared. The blood escaped from the upper part of the body, the back of the head, the temples, the eyes, nose, the breast, and the tips of the fingers. The disorder disappeared spontaneously on Friday the 8th of March of the following year. This affection was evidently occasioned by superstitious fears; and this appears the more probable from the periodicity of the attacks. The first invasion of the disease might have been purely accidental; but the regularity of its subsequent appearance on the stated day of the vision may be attributed to the influence of apprehension. Bartholinus mentions cases of bloody sweat taking place during vehement terror and the agonies of torture.

The case of Catherine Merlin, of Chamberg, is well authenticated, and worthy of being recorded. She was a woman of forty-six years of age, strong and hale. She received a kick from a bullock in the epigastric region, that was followed by vomiting of blood: this discharge having been suddenly stopped by her medical attendants, the blood made its way through the pores of various parts of her body, every limb being affected in turn. The sanguineous discharge was invariably preceded by a prickly and itching sensation; frequently this itching exudation proceeded from the scalp. The discharge usually occurred twice in the twenty-four hours; and on pressing the skin, the flow of blood could be accelerated and increased.

Dr. Fournier relates the case of a magistrate who was attacked with diapedesis after any excitement, whether of a pleasurable or a painful nature.

A singular idiosyncrasy was transmitted to her male children by an American Female named Smith, occasioning a severe haemorrhage wherever the skin was slightly pricked or scratched. This loss of blood would sometimes continue for several days. Several of her sons sunk under the affection, which was found at last to yield to the sulphate of soda. What is most singular, all her daughters were exempted from this fearful predisposition.

It is probable that this strange disorder arises from a violent commotion of the nervous system, turning the streams of blood out of their natural course, and forcing the red particles into the cutaneous excretories. A mere relaxation of the fibres could not produce so powerful a revulsion. It may also arise in cases of extreme debility in connexion with a thinner condition of the blood.

Curious cases are recorded of a sandy sweat, in which the perspiration becomes crystallized on the surface of the skin. Bartholinus, Schunig, and Mollenbroek have related several cases of the kind. It is probable, as Mason Good observes, that this morbid secretion may arise from an excess of uric acid, translated from the kidneys to the skin; this sand is generally of the same red colour as that of the renal secretions deposited in a lateritious sediment.

Scented perspiration is another singular peculiarity. This odour, frequently unpleasant, has also been known to shed an agreeable aroma, compared to the perfume of violets, roses, and musk. This quality is common in various animals; in the Simia jacchus, hedgehogs, hares, serpents, and crocodiles. The Viverra zibetha and V. civetta yield this odour abundantly; and it has been observed in a faint degree in our domestic cat. Many insects exhale an agreeable odour; especially the Cerambix moschatus, the Apis fragrans, the Tipula mochifera. The Cerambix suaveolens emits a delicious smell of roses, and the Petiolated sphex a highly fragrant balsamic ether. In the Memoirs of the Queen of Navarre, we read that Catherine de Medicis was a perfect nosegay; and Cujacius and Lord Herbert of Cherbury were equally distinguished by the suavity of their transpiration.

The general perspiration of every man seems to be of a peculiar nature. Savages can distinguish their friends and foes by the scent. The boy born deaf and dumb, whose history is related by Dugald Stewart, distinguished persons by their odour; and the dealers in hair can ascertain by the smell the nation to which the hair belongs.

The quantity of perspiration secreted by a well-grown adult weighing about one hundred and forty-six pounds, is at the rate of twenty-eight ounces in the twenty-four hours, sixteen ounces during the period usually allotted to waking, and twelve ounces during sleep.[49] It is not so much increased by moderate elevation of temperature as might be imagined; it appears increased after meals and during sleep. While the skin thus secretes so considerable a quantity of watery fluid, its powers of absorption are wonderful, and are frequently resorted to for medicinal purposes. This absorption evidently tends to assist in repairing the strength. A boy at Newcastle who had been greatly reduced for a race, gained thirty ounces in weight in the course of an hour, during which time he had only taken a glass of wine. Dr. Home, after going to bed much fatigued and supperless, gained two ounces before the morning. Keill says that one night he gained eighteen ounces in his sleep. Immersion in water and damp air materially increases this power. Frogs, toads, even lizards, increase in weight although only partially dipped in water; and remarkably so if previously deprived of part of their moisture by exposure to air. The power of absorbing medicinal substances when immersed in their solution has been demonstrated by Dr. Massy, an American physician, who found that if the body was immersed in a decoction of madder,[50] this substance immediately tinged the renal secretion. Dr. Rousseau made a similar experiment with rhubarb. It is now clearly demonstrated that friction is not necessary to produce absorption.

The keenness of the deaf and dumb boy in ascertaining the effluvium of various individuals, to which I have alluded, induces me to give a short sketch of this curious individual. His name was James Mitchell; and having no other source by which he could discover or keep up a connexion with surrounding objects than those of smell, taste, and touch, he depended chiefly upon the first, like a domestic dog, in distinguishing persons and things. By this sense he identified his friends and relations; and conceived a sudden attachment or dislike to strangers. It was difficult, however, to ascertain at what distance he could thus exercise this faculty; but, from Mr. Wardrop's observations, it appears that he possessed it at a considerable distance. This was particularly striking when a person entered the room, as he seemed to be aware of this before he could derive any information from any sense than that of smell. When a stranger approached him, he eagerly began to touch some part of the body, commonly taking hold of his arm, which he held near his nose; and, after two or three strong inspirations through the nostrils, he appeared to form a decided opinion concerning him. If it were favourable, he showed a disposition to become more intimate, examined more minutely his dress, and expressed in his countenance more or less satisfaction; but if it happened to be unfavourable, he suddenly went off to a distance, with expressions of carelessness or disgust.

SMALLPOX.

The first description we have of this dreadful disease is to be found in the writings of Almansor of Rhazes, published about the end of the ninth or the beginning of the tenth century. He, however, quotes an Alexandrian physician of the name of Aaron, who had treated the same subject so early as the year 622. There is no substantial ground to warrant a belief that it was known to the Greeks or Romans. The opinion of Hahn, who considered it to have been their anthrax, is absurd. Had this pestilence prevailed amongst the ancients, and left the traces of its ravages,--which have marked most fearfully so many individuals,--it is probable that these impressions would have been attached to their names, as they were in the habit of designating many of their illustrious personages by their physical peculiarities, either natural or accidental. Hence we find Ovidius Naso, Tullius Cicero, Horatius Cocles, Scipio Nasica, Curius Dentatus.

The term variolae, which this disease bears, was first applied to a malady presenting the same symptoms, by Marius, bishop of Avanches, and appears to be derived from varius, spotted. Howbeit, to whatever region we may be indebted for this scourge, it appears that it existed in Asia, and especially in China, long before its introduction into Europe. About the middle of the sixth century, it was supposed to have been carried from India to Arabia by trading vessels, where no doubt the Arabian and Saracenic armies introduced it into the Levant, Spain, and Sicily. In 640, under the caliphate of Omar, the Saracens spread the contagion over Syria, Chaldaea, Mesopotamia, Egypt, and Persia. Its appearance in Europe may be referred to the eighth century. In the ninth century, as I have stated, we find it described by the Arabian physicians. In the tenth century we find it described by other Arabian writers, chiefly Avicenna and Hali Abbas. In 962, Count Baudouin of Flanders, died from its attack. It appears certain that it prevailed in Gaul long before; we find in the works of Marius, already mentioned, the following passage: "Hoc anno (570) morbus validus, cum profluvio ventris et variolis, Italiam Galliamque valde afflixit." About the same period we find Dagobert and Clodobert, sons of Chilperic, falling victims to the disorder; and Austregilda, wife of Gontran King of Burgundy, died of it in 580, at the age of thirty-two, so enraged with her physicians, Nicholas and Donet, that she insisted that they should accompany her to the other world, to reward them for causing her untimely end. Her affectionate and disconsolate husband Gontran of course had both their throats cut upon her tomb.

In the eleventh and twelfth centuries we find the smallpox in all the southern parts of Europe. The north was for a long time tolerably exempted from the scourge, until the Holy War introduced it into those regions; and it appears to have been the only trophy that the English and Germans brought home to commemorate their exploits in the Crusades.

In the thirteenth century the Muscovites, Laplanders, and Norwegians were free from the disorder, the progress of which seemed to have been delayed by the cold; although at the same time, according to the relation of Gordon, it was most destructive all over France. Most physicians at this period partook of the opinion of the Arabians, who considered the disease as being in the blood, thrown by it into a state of ebullition, particularly in childhood and youth. According to the Arabian Auaron, or Ahron, it sometimes affected the same individual twice. This doctrine of the boiling up and bubbling forth of the blood to throw out its peccant qualities, tended not a little to increase the mortality and exasperate the disease; as the physicians, to encourage this concoction, were in the habit of wrapping up their patients in warm clothing, and keeping their apartments as hot as possible;--a fatal practice that subsequent experience has rejected as destructive.

In 1517 the Spaniards carried it to St. Domingo, nearly depopulating the country. South America soon received this additional visitation, said to have been carried amongst them by a negro. So terrific were the ravages of this pestilence, that the Americans considered its invasion as one of the data of their melancholy chronicles. The brother of the noble Montezuma was one of its earliest victims; worthy attendant on the Spanish banners, it accompanied their detested hordes in all their conquests.

The northern districts of America were free from the contagion, when the English carried it with their commercial productions amongst the natives of Boston in 1649, and subsequently to Virginia and Carolina, and the remaining provinces. The Spaniards infected Nootka Sound, and the Russians desolated Kamtschatka about the same period.

Inoculation appears nearly as ancient as the disease, if we can credit the missionaries, who were sent into China by the Church of Rome, and who, from their address and insinuation, gained access to the historical records: they have transmitted detailed accounts of the history of the Chinese, and of their knowledge in various branches of science. There is a memoir written on the smallpox by the missionaries at Pekin, the substance of which is extracted from Chinese medical books, and especially from a work published by the Imperial College of Medicine, for the instruction of the physicians of the empire. This book is entitled Teou-tchin-fa, or a treatise from the heart to the smallpox; which states that the disease was unknown in the very early ages, and did not appear until the dynasty of Tcheou, which was about 1122 years before Christ. The Chinese name for the malady is a singular one, Tai-tou, or venom from the mother's breast; and a description is given of the fever, the eruption of the pustules, their increase, flattening, and crusting. In the same Chinese book there is also an account of a species of inoculation discovered seven centuries previously; but, according to a tradition, it had been revealed in the dynasty of Long, that is, about 590 years before Christ. Father d'Entrecolles, the Jesuit, in his correspondence from China, gives some information respecting the smallpox, which confirms the material part of the above information; for he notices having read some Chinese work which mentions the smallpox as a disease of the earliest ages. He also describes a method of communicating the disease, which was called sowing the smallpox; this was generally performed by planting some of the crusts upon the nose,--an operation which was approved of by some but disapproved by others.

Although the tradition of the smallpox being a disease originally transmitted to man by camels may be fanciful, yet the existence of the vaccine in cows might give some probability to its having been the case. Moore thus expresses himself on the subject: "This notion probably took its rise from the circumstance that land commerce from Egypt to India was only practicable by means of this animal. But such kind of traffic was tedious and difficult, and it is conjectured that no person known to have the smallpox would ever have been suffered to join himself to a caravan." Now this observation would rather confirm the fact than invalidate it; since, if no individual affected with the malady could have carried the contagion, the disease might have been spread by their camels.

In regard to the antiquity of the practice of inoculation amongst the Chinese, I cannot do better than give Mr. Moore's own words on so very interesting a subject. "No account is handed down of the origin of this custom; but the reverence in which agriculture is held by the Chinese may have suggested the name (sowing of the smallpox) and the usual manner of performing the operation: for they took a few full dried smallpox crusts, as if they were seeds, and planted them in the nose; a bit of musk was added in order to correct the virulence of the poison, and the whole was wrapped up in a bit of cotton to prevent it dropping from the nostrils. The crusts employed were always taken from a healthy person who had had the smallpox favourably; and, with the vain hope of mitigating their acrimony, they were sometimes kept in close jars for years, and at other times fumigated with salutary plants. Some physicians beat these crusts into powder, and advised their patients to take a pinch of this snuff; and when they could not prevail upon them, they mixed it with water into a paste, and applied it in that form. In Hindostan, if tradition may be relied upon, inoculation has been practised from remote antiquity. The practice was in the hands of a particular tribe of Brahmins, who were delegated from various religious colleges, and who travelled through the provinces for this purpose. The natives were strictly enjoined to abstain during a preparatory month from milk and butter; and, when the Arabians and Portuguese appeared in that country, they were prohibited from taking animal food also. These were commonly inoculated on the arm; but the girls, not liking to have their arms disfigured, chose that it should be done low on the shoulder: and whatever part was fixed upon was well rubbed with a piece of cloth, which afterwards became a perquisite of the Brahmin. He then made a few slight scratches on the skin with a sharp instrument, and took a bit of cotton, which had been soaked the preceding year in variolous matter, moistened it with a drop or two of the holy water of the Ganges, and bound it upon the punctures. During the whole of this ceremony, the Brahmin always preserved a solemn countenance, and recited the prayers appointed in the Attharna Veda, to propitiate the goddess who superintended the smallpox. The Brahmin then gave his instructions, which were regularly observed. In six hours the bandage was to be taken off, and the pledget allowed to drop spontaneously. Early next morning, cold water was to be poured upon the patient's head and shoulders, and this was to be repeated until the fever came on. The ablution was then to be omitted; but, as soon as the eruption appeared, it was to be resumed and persevered in every morning and evening till the crusts should fall off. Confinement to the house was absolutely forbidden; the inoculated were to be freely exposed to every air that blew; but when the fever was upon them, they were sometimes permitted to lie on a mat at the door. Their regimen was to consist of the most refrigerating productions of the climate; as plantains, water-melons, thin gruel made of rice or poppy-seeds, cold water, and rice."

While sowing the disease was thus prevalent in some countries, selling and buying it was adopted in others, when children bartered fruit in exchange for the infection. It does not appear that the faculty took any notice of inoculation until the year 1703, when Dr. Emmanuel Timoni Alpeck wrote an account of his observations in Constantinople, in a letter to Woodward: a Venetian physician, of the name of Pylamus, about the same time noticed the success of the practice in Turkey. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu pursued the inquiry in her voyage to that country, by causing her son Edward to be inoculated by Maitland, surgeon to the embassy, and, on her return to England in 1722, had the operation tried with successful results on her daughter. Still, although two of the princesses of the royal family had also been inoculated with equal benefit, inoculation was furiously opposed by the profession, and even from the pulpit; and so successful was this opposition, that it succeeded in bringing it into disuse both in England and throughout Europe, many cases of smallpox of a confluent character having made their appearance after inoculation, and in 1740 the practice had nearly fallen into disuse. In this virulent controversy, a singular circumstance was observed: while regular practitioners stated the practice to be unsuccessful, whenever it was adopted by quacks, monks, and old women, the result was invariably favourable; and the report that reached Europe of a Carmelite friar having inoculated thousands of Indians, an old woman being equally fortunate in Greece, while at the same time a planter in St. Christopher's inoculated three hundred persons without the loss of a single patient, the practice was again resumed, chiefly in our seaports, and gradually extended over the country. Mead materially assisted its progress by stating that the Circassian ladies chiefly owed their beauty to this salutary preservative. In the year 1763, Daniel Sutton, son of a surgeon in Suffolk, recommended the practice, modified, however, in the treatment of the malady, and brought inoculation into general repute.

It appears, however, that inoculation was by no means a novel introduction even in England, as it had been long practised in Pembrokeshire and several parts of Wales. On the Continent it had been tried at Cleves. Bartholinus mentions it as adopted in Denmark; and traces of its adoption were evident in Auvergne and Perigord.

Various modes of performing this operation were adopted. The Arabians inserted the virus with a pointed instrument between the thumb and the index; the Georgians on the fore-arm; and the Armenians on the thigh. The traveller Motraye mentions a Circassian old woman who used to inoculate with three pins tied together. It appears that this practice was generally prevalent in Turkey in 1673. Trinoni and Pilarini observed that the natural smallpox was generally fatal in Constantinople, while the disease produced artificially was most benign. Bruce relates that from time immemorial inoculation was practised in Nubia by old Negresses or Arabs.

Strange to say, it was only in 1727 that inoculation became general in France; and its adoption was materially forwarded by Voltaire, who also took special care to acquaint the fair sex that it was to this practice that the Circassian and Georgian odalisks owed their beauty.

The terrific mortality that attended this disease was much increased by the injudicious treatment to which patients were submitted. Instead of adopting the natural plan resorted to by eastern nations, and allowing the patients a free current of air, with a refrigerant diet, cordials and a hot regimen were enforced, under which the disorder soon assumed a destructive malignity. Cold affusion, which has also been extolled by modern physicians as a recent improvement in medical practice, we have seen, was also employed centuries ago. Sutton, who is generally, but erroneously, considered as being the introducer of inoculation, did nothing more, as I have already observed, than modify the treatment of the disorder. Thus do we daily see impudence and quackery receiving rewards for supposed discoveries, and the keepers of the public purse on such occasions seem much less careful of it than of their own. In our days, for instance, chain-cables have been decreed a discovery, and their inventor entitled to a national recompence, whereas we read the following passage in Caesar's Commentaries, when speaking of the shipping of the Gauls,--"Anchorae, pro funibus, ferreis catenis revinctae:" any schoolboy could have given this information to our sapient legislators.

The reappearance or supposed increased prevalence of the smallpox after vaccination, for the last few years, may call for some observation. Ever since the year 1804 a belief was entertained by many persons that the cowpox only afforded a temporary security. This doubt, however, never did rest upon any solid foundation. Dr. Jenner maintained in the most strenuous manner, that to render the cowpox efficient, it was absolutely necessary to attend most carefully to the character of the pustule, and the time and quality of the lymph taken from it; on the very same principle inoculation of the smallpox also failed. For it must be clearly understood, that Jenner considered the smallpox and the cowpox as identic maladies, and by no means dissimilar in their nature: on this important subject I feel much gratification in quoting a passage from a late valuable publication,[51] to which I refer the reader. "It was then clearly ascertained, that there were deviations from the usual course of smallpox, which were quite as common and infinitely more disastrous than those which took place in vaccination. These deviations regarded two apparently different states of the constitution. In the one the susceptibility of smallpox, was not taken away by previous infection, while, on the other hand some constitutions seem to be unsusceptible of smallpox infection altogether. It was found, that similar occurrences took place in the practice of vaccination, but as the security which the latter afforded was never more likely to be interfered with by slight causes than the former, it became absolutely necessary that great care should be shown in watching the progress and character of the pustule. Dr. Jenner had from the beginning felt the propriety of this watchfulness; and had distinctly announced that it was possible to propagate an infection by inoculation conveying different degrees of security, according as that affection approached to or receded from the full and perfect standard. He also clearly stated that the cause of the vaccine pustule might be so modified as to deprive it of its efficacy. That inoculation from such a source might communicate an inefficient protection, and that all those who were thus vaccinated were more or less liable to the subsequent smallpox."

Dr. Bacon is of opinion that the cowpox is now what it was at the beginning. There are instances, in which it has passed from one human subject to another for more than thirty years, consequently through fifteen or sixteen hundred individuals, but yet in which no degeneration has taken place. He nevertheless admits that recent lymph from the cow should be preferred, when it can be procured; he is further of opinion that the occurrence of smallpox after inoculation does not exceed in number the cases of smallpox after smallpox. My own experience confirms these views. I was in practice in Bordeaux during the prevalence of what is called smallpox in vaccinated cases,--the cases were rare, doubtful, and very seldom fatal.

There is little doubt that the smallpox would sweep away thousands of our dense population but for the protecting power of vaccination, the failure of which, ought more frequently to be attributed to the vaccinator, or the constitution of the patient, than to Jenner's immortal discovery. Dr. Severn has just published an essay on this most important subject, and it appears by his statistical tables, that such has been the decrease of mortality since the introduction of vaccination, that the number of patients admitted into the smallpox hospital from 1775 to 1800,--were 7017--the deaths 2277--whereas from the year 1800 to the year 1825, the number admitted was 3943, and the deaths 1118--not half the number, although the population of London had doubled during that period. Dr. Severn further calculates that the proportion of failures is 6 in 3000.

We read with feelings of deep regret in his late bibliography, that the man at whose intercession the magic of his name obtained the liberation of Napoleon's prisoners, could not obtain an appointment for the members of his own family from the British Government; nay, the College of Physicians despite the exertions of Dr. Baillie, refused to admit him to a fellowship in their learned body. It was when reflecting on such national ingratitude, that he wrote to a friend, "Never aim, my friend at being a public character, if you love domestic peace." And not long before he terminated his invaluable career he made this remarkable expression: "I am not surprised that men are not thankful to me; but I wonder that they are not grateful to God for the good which he has made me the instrument of conveying to my fellow-creatures."

It is in vain that France with her usual jactance pretends that the first idea of vaccination arose in that country, they have no more claim to the discovery than their Marshals to Wellington's immortal glory.

GENERATIVE ANIMALCULES.

Microscopic experiments daily demonstrate the existence of myriads of animalcules in every substance. They have recently been discovered in the progress of certain crystallizations; and some philosophers maintain that most inorganic bodies are formed of the remains of organic substances. The existence of animalcules in the generative secretion was first noticed by Lewis Hamme, a young German student, and shown by him to Leeuwenhoeck, who published an account of them. Hartzoeken wrote upon the subject the following year, and asserted that he had seen these animalcules three years before they had been observed by Hamme. This curious subject soon attracted the notice, not only of physiologists, but of priests, artists, and even courtiers, for we find our Charles II. making curious inquiries on this investigation. Although many opticians could not discover these creatures, the eyes of courtiers were more keen than theirs, and to gratify their royal master's depravity, described them most minutely. Their length was 3/100000 of an inch, their bulk such as to admit the existence of 216,000 in a sphere whose diameter was the breadth of a hair, and their rate of travelling nine inches in the hour. They saw them in the seminal secretion of every animal; and, what was still more remarkable, they were of a similar size whatever might have been that of the animal: they saw them in the sprat and in the whale; they could distinguish the male from the female; and they all moved along in gregarious harmony like a flock of sheep: nay, more; Dalenpatius actually saw one of them, more impatient than his companions, burst from his ignoble shackles, and actually assume the human form. At other times they were discovered swimming in shoals to given points, turning back, separating, meeting again, and frisking about like golden fish in a pond. Kauw, Boerhaave, Maupertius, Lieuland, Ledermuller, Monro, Nicholas, Haller, and indeed most of the philosophers of Europe, were convinced of their existence.

Buffon, however, and other naturalists, contended that these were not animalcules, but organic particles; and Linnaeus imagined them to be inert molecules, thrown into agitation by the warmth of the fluid. Finally, to determine the question, Spallanzani began an assiduous course of observations and experiments. He found these animalcules in the human species to be of an oval form, with a tail tapering to a point. This appendage, by moving from side to side, propelled them forward. They were in constant motion in every direction. In about twenty-three minutes their movements became more languid, and in two or three hours they generally died. The duration of their life, however seemed to depend, in a great measure, on the temperature of the medium: at 2 deg. (Reaumur) they died in three quarters of an hour; while at 7 deg. they lived two hours, and at 12-1/2 deg. three hours and three quarters. If the cold was not too intense, they recovered upon the temperature being raised; when only 3 deg. or 4 deg., they recovered after a lethargy of fourteen hours; and according to the less intensity of the cold, they might be made to pass from the torpid to the active state more frequently. They were destroyed by river, ice, snow, and rain water; by sulphur, tobacco, camphor, and electricity; even the air was injurious to them: in close vessels their life was prolonged to some days, and their movements were not constant and hurried. They were of various sizes, and perfectly distinct from all species of animalcules found in vegetable infusions, &c. In short, Spallanzani completely confirmed the principal observations of Leeuwenhoeck, and satisfactorily explained the sources of the inaccuracies of other inquirers. Prevost and Dumas have recently confirmed the observations of the Italian physiologist.

This doctrine of life being perpetuated by the transmission of animated particles, or animalcules, is by no means of modern date. We find this theory advanced by Hippocrates, and Aristotle, and Plato. Democritus described worms that assumed, in the progress of their development, the human form; and Lactantius thus refuted his ideas: "Erravit ergo Democritus, qui vermiculorum modo putavit homines effusos esse de terra, nullo auctore, nullaque ratione." Hippocrates plainly says, that the seminal secretion was full of animalcules, whose several parts were developed, and grew afresh; that nothing did exist that had not pre-existed; and that what we term birth was nothing more than that transition of these hitherto imperceptible animalcules from darkness to light.

Gesner has endeavoured to prove that the word [Greek: psyche], so frequently found in the writings of Hippocrates, and translated anima, was synonymous with insectum, animalculum, papilio. Plato, when expressing himself on this curious subject, compares the matrix to a fertile field, in which animalcules are gradually developed, at first of such a small size that they are imperceptible, but, by taking the food prepared for them, grow in strength until they are brought to light in a state of perfect generation; and St. Augustine thus follows: "Hunc perfectionis modum sic habent omnes ut cum illo concipiantur atque nascuntur; sed habent in ratione, non in mole, sicut ipsa jam membra omnia sunt latenter in semine; cum etiam natis nonnulla desint, sicut dentes, ac si quid ejusmodi." In the works of Seneca we also find the same notions: "In semine omnis futuri hominis ratio comprehensa est, et legem barbae et canorum nondum natus infans habet; totius enim corporis, et sequentis aetatis, in parvo occultoque lineamenta sunt."

It may be said that these opinions were similar to those of the Ovarians, who, as we have observed already, believed that every thing arose from the egg. Such were Aristotle, Empedocles, and other philosophers: "For the egg is the conception," said the first of these great men, "and after the same manner the animal is created;" but there was a manifest difference in their systems. Harvey, Haller, De Graef, were amongst the most warm advocates of this doctrine, which indeed prevails to the present day, as it would be difficult to find organized beings that did not spring from an original germ.

It thus appears that, notwithstanding the absurd doctrines of generation being founded upon the existence of these animalcules, they clearly do exist. Modern microscopic experiments daily confirm the fact; not only in the generative secretion, but in the other fluids of the body: creatures of an inch to an inch and a quarter in length have been found to inhabit the mesenteric arteries of asses and horses. Mr. Hodgson found them in seven asses out of nine. They have also been found in the blood of female frogs, salamanders, and tadpoles. What wonders are perhaps in store for the microscopic observer and the physiologist! All living matter seems to be animated by particles, by atoms, equally possessed of life. Does the vitality of these constituent molecules hold any influence over our existence? Is their life necessary to the preservation of ours? Is any agency destructive to them injurious or destructive to us? In a former paper I have recorded recent observations, where animalcules of a peculiar description were found in the purulent secretion attending various affections. A morbid condition seems thus to produce a new series of animated beings, or this new series of living atoms perhaps have produced a morbid state. Many eruptive maladies are either caused by the presence of insects, or insects are subsequently developed in their pustules. Wichmann, and many other physicians, have maintained that the itch was produced by an insect of the genus acarus, or tick.

Latreille has given a minute description of this creature in his Genera crustaceorum et insectorum, and calls this offensive species the sarcoptes scabiei. Linnaeus classed it among the aptera, and termed it the acarus scabiei. This insect is nearly round, with eight legs; the four fore-legs terminated with a small head, the hind ones with a silky filament. The Arabian Avenzoar had long since observed them, and it was from his writings that Mouffet was induced to pursue the inquiry. Redi, an Italian physician, was the first propagator of this doctrine in modern times, and published, in 1685, a paper of Cestoni of Leghorn, who had frequently observed mendicants and galley-slaves extracting these insects from the pustules of itch with the point of a pin, in the same manner as chigoes are extracted from their cyst in the West Indies.

It was this communication of Cestoni that led to a further and more minute investigation. Curiosity was every where excited, and the most learned and intelligent naturalists and physicians, amongst whom we find the illustrious names of Borelli, Etmuller, Mead, Pringle, Pallas, Bonani, Linnaeus, Morgagni, strove with incessant diligence to ascertain this important fact, which certainly was likely to shed a new light on our pathological speculations. The existence of the acarus was established.

The most conclusive experiments on the subject were those of Gales, in 1812. The following is the account of them: "I placed under a microscope a watch-glass with a drop of distilled water, after having carefully ascertained that it did not contain any visible animalcules. I then extracted from an itch pustule a small portion of the virus, which I diluted in the water with the point of a lancet. I watched most attentively for upwards of ten minutes, without having been able to notice any animation. Two similar experiments were equally ineffectual. Disappointed in my expectations, I was about giving up the task, when an idea struck me of submitting the liquid of the first experiment to another trial. I had left it in the watch-glass, exposed to solar heat. I then was not a little surprised when I discovered a perfect insect struggling with its legs to extricate itself from the viscid fluid that confined it. Having succeeded in reaching a more limpid part of the liquor, its form was so distinct that Mr. Patrix, who was with me, was enabled to take an exact drawing of its configuration."

This curious result naturally induced Gales to pursue his inquiries, and he discovered that this insect chiefly occupies the pustules that are filled with a thin serum, and avoids those that contain a thicker secretion. Hence the watery pimples in itch are invariably those that produce the most intolerable prurience.

The next important question was to decide whether this insect was the cause of the disgusting disorder. For this purpose Gales placed several of them on the back of his hand. He then covered the part with a small watch-glass, kept in place with a bandage. Three hours after he awoke, experiencing a sensation of itching on the part. The following morning three itch pustules were evident, and convinced him that he had succeeded in inoculating himself with the loathsome complaint. This fact he communicated to Olivier, Dumeril, Latreille, and Richerand. Experiments in the hospital were immediately directed to be made, and all produced a similar result; affording a convincing proof that these insects could produce the affection, which they had merely been thought to have complicated.

Many writers, who, like Mason Good, had decided that "whenever these insects appear, they are not a cause but a consequence of the disease," opposed and contradicted the statement of Gales, and the numerous practitioners who had procured and witnessed facts, which are never "stubborn things" to speculative minds. These writers maintained that whenever any organ was weakened, or in a morbid condition, it was apt to become a nidus for some insects or worms to burrow in. Hence the numerous varieties of invermination in debility of the digestive organs. But it is needless to observe that their objections cannot stand against the imbodied evidence brought forward in proof of their error. Bosc, Huzard, Latreille, Dumeril, and many other naturalists, subsequently found these acari in the eruptive diseases of many animals.

I repeat it, this subject is replete with interest; and microscopic experiments may some time or other throw a material light on the practice of medicine. Those substances that are known to destroy the insect that produces the itch, cure the malady. May not this analogy lead to singular results?

CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD.

The circulation of the blood was first taught by the unfortunate Servetus in 1553, who was burnt to death as a heretic; and, a century afterwards, demonstrated by our Harvey, who is justly considered as having discovered the wonderful mechanism of the motion of the vital fluid.

There is no doubt, however, that the ancients had formed, if not a correct, at least an ingenious, idea of it. Hippocrates tells us "that all the veins communicate with each other, and flow from one vessel into others; and that all the veins that are spread over the body carry a flux and movement originating in a single vessel." He avows that he is ignorant of the principle whence it arises, or of its termination, it appearing to be a circle without beginning or end. He further states, that the heart is the source of the arteries, through which blood is carried over the body, communicating life and heat; and he adds, that they are so many rivulets that irrigate the system, and carry vitality into every part: the heart and veins are in constant motion; and he compares the circulation of blood to the course of rivers, that return to their source by extraordinary deviations. He therefore directs blood-letting to restore a free current of the blood and other spirits in apoplexies and other diseases of a similar nature, which he attributed to obstruction in the vessels intercepting the flow of their contents. He also observes, that when bile enters the blood, it deranges its consistence, and disturbs its ordinary course towards another point: and he compares the circulation to balls of thread, the threads of which return to each other in a circuitous manner, terminating at the point whence their motion arose.

Plato thought that the heart was the source of the veins, and of the blood, that was rapidly borne to every part of the body. Aristotle tells us that the heart is the principle and source of the veins and of the blood. He considered that there were two veins proceeding from this organ, one from the left side, the other from the right; the first he termed aorta: and he further maintained that the arteries communicated with the veins, with which they were intimately connected.

Julius Pollux taught, in his Gnomasticon, that the arteries are the channels through which the spirits circulate as the veins propel the blood; and he describes the heart as having two cavities, one communicating with the arteries, and the other with the veins. Apuleius tells his disciples that the heart propels the blood through the lungs, to be afterwards distributed over the system.

In the writings of Nemesius, bishop of Emissa, we read that the movement observed in the pulse originates in the heart, chiefly from the artery of the left ventricle of the viscus. This artery is dilated, and then contracted, by a constant and powerful harmonious action. When dilated the vessel draws towards it the most subtile portions of the neighbouring blood, and the vapour or exhalation of this fluid, that feeds the animal spirits; but when it contracts, it exhales, through various channels of the body, all the vapours that it contains.

Strange as it may appear, doubts were once entertained as to the actual situation of the heart, whether it was lodged in the right or the left side of the body. The question was finally settled by a professor of Heidelberg, who for the purpose killed a pig in the presence of the Margrave of Baden, Durlach, who then laboured under a supposed disease of that organ, which it was then clearly shown occupied the left side. The result of this experiment, however proved somewhat detrimental to his Highness's physician, who was dismissed, although he maintained with all becoming courtesy and respect, that the heart of his princely master could not possibly be in the same position as that of a hog.

Michael Servetus, in his work, De Christianismi restitutione, also in the 7th book, De Trinitate Divina, for which he was sentenced to the stake a very short time after its publication, gives us the following description of this important function: The blood, which is a vital spirit, is diffused all over the body by anastomoses, or inosculation of two vessels through their extremities. The air in the lungs contributes to the elaboration of the blood, which it draws for that purpose from the right ventricle of the heart through the pulmonary artery. This blood is prepared in the lungs by a movement of the air that agitates it, subtilizes it, and, finally, mingles it with that vital spirit which is afterwards retransmitted to the heart by the movement of the diastole, as a vital fluid proper to maintain life. This communication and preparation of the blood, he further states, is rendered evident by the union of the arteries and veins in this organ; and he concludes by affirming that the heart, having thus received the blood prepared by the lungs, transmits it through the artery of the left ventricle, or the aorta, to every part of the body.

Great care was of course taken to destroy this abominable heretical publication, which was burnt by the common hangman in Geneva, Frankfort, and several provinces of France. The work thence became so scarce, that it is said only three or four copies of it are in existence. One of them was in the library of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel.

John Leonicenus relates that the celebrated Paul Sarpi otherwise named Fra Paolo, had also discovered this circulation, and demonstrated the valves of the veins, which open to afford a free passage to the blood, and close to prevent its return. This discovery, it is pretended, was made known to Fabricius ab Aquapendente, professor of medicine in Padua in the sixteenth century, and successor of Fallopius, and who communicated the fact to Harvey, then a student in that university.

Some time before Harvey's discovery, Cesalpinus had described with great precision the pulmonary circulation; and, on finding that veins swelled under a ligature, he attributed this enlargement to the warmth of the blood. This warmth, he says, proceeds from a spirit residing in the blood. The left ventricle is filled with blood of a spirituous nature; and one can trace the movement of the blood towards the superior parts, and its return (retrocessus) to the internal ones,--that is to say, a return by which it comes back from the extremities to the heart, when awake or sleeping, from every part of the body; for if you tie the vessels, or if they are obstructed, the current of the blood is stopped, and then their smaller ramifications tumefy towards their origin. The following are his words: "Sic non obscurus est ejusmodi motus in quacumque corporis parte, si vinculum adhibeatur, aut alia ratione occludantur venae: cum enim tollitur permeatio, intumescunt rivuli qua parte fluere solent." From these expressions it is clear that Cesalpinus suspected the great circulation, and had a fair idea of its nature; yet there is no doubt but that it was to our Harvey that the first demonstration of this wondrous function was reserved.

DRUNKENNESS.

At all periods this degrading vice appears to have been more or less prevalent. We find it frequently mentioned in the early history of the Jews. Tacitus informs us that it was common amongst the ancient Germans; and in Greece and Rome it was not only common, but frequently extolled as beneficial--as medicinal:

Si nocturna tibi noceat potatio vini, Hora matutina rebibas, et erit medicina.

Socrates considered the indulgence in wine pardonable. Thus, C. Gallus:

Hoc quoque virtutem quondam certamine, magnum Socratem palmam promeruisse ferunt.

According to Horace, Cato the Censor had often recourse to its exhilarating virtues:

Narratur et prisci Catonis Saepe mero incaluisse virtus.

Seneca informs us that even the Roman ladies frequently indulged in these potations. The drunkenness of the ancients bore all the disgusting character of the present day, and was thus admirably described by Lucretius:

Cum vini penetravit-- Consequitur gravitas membrorum, praepediuntur Crura vacillanti, tardescit lingua, madet mens, Nant oculi; clamor, singultus, jurgia gliscunt.

However, from the language of the ancients, we cannot come to the conclusion that Socrates, and other great men who were accused of inebriety, were habitual drunkards, or even that, under the influence of their potations, they were occasionally deprived of their reason. On the contrary, there is every reason to believe that the ancients both ate and drank a great deal during their repasts; and thus mingling their wine and their food, like most of the continental nations, they were less subject to the inconveniences that arose from their indulgence in liquor. Indeed, the term sobriety applies to a proper regulation of our ingesta, according to our constitution and our state of health. Extreme abstinence on some occasions may prove as prejudicial as intemperance; and there are peculiar idiosyncrasies where a certain quantity of stimulus is absolutely requisite to keep up the animal spirits, and at the same time assist assimilations which become languid under mental depression. No doubt, this necessity has arisen from habit,--most probably a very bad habit; still, when it does exist, physicians should be cautious in suddenly forbidding customary indulgences: we must also consider on such occasions the pursuits of different individuals. The laborious classes, who require more frequent refection, from the constant exhaustion to which their avocations expose them, can bear with impunity a moderate use of strong liquors. Such a practice would destroy the sedentary and the studious. Temperance is essentially requisite to perfect not only our intellectual faculties, but many of our physical functions. The senses both of man and the brute creation are rendered much more keen by abstinence. The scent of the dog, the vision of the hawk, are less acute after feeding; and this is one of the chief causes of the greater perspicuity in our ideas when fasting in the morning. The ancients had an axiom founded upon observation, "if you wish to become robust, eat and labour; if you wish to become wise, fast and meditate." The Greeks called sobriety, [Greek: sophrosune]; or, according to Aristotle, as though they said, [Greek: sozousan ten phronesin], it assisted our intellectuals. Plato tells us that Socrates termed this quality [Greek: soterian tes psroneseos], or the health of the mind. Xenophon maintained that it prevented men from spitting or blowing their noses, as we were not in need of superfluities when we decreased the consumption of what was necessary. The ancients looked upon sobriety as a bent bow, that required occasional relaxation.

It is said, but I know not on what authority, that Hippocrates recommended an indulgence in potations once a month. Celsus recommends persons in perfect health not to be too rigorous in their diet; sometimes to fast, and at others to live more freely. In more modern times this supposed precept of Hippocrates has been advocated, and we find two theses on the subject, entitled "Non ergo singulis mensibus repetita ebrietas salubris," and "Non ergo unquam ebrietas salubris," by Hammet and Langlois. Zacchias, in his medical questions, asks if a physician can recommend such a departure from the laws of temperance without committing a sin. This query has been also debated by divines. Frederick Hoffmann maintained that poets required this indulgence, and attributes in a great measure the falling off of genius amongst the modern Greeks to the destruction of their vineyards by the Turks. In ancient Iconography we oftentimes find Bacchus placed near Minerva. The allusions of Heathen mythology to drunkenness, its effects, and the means of tempering its influence, are curious. Silenus, the preceptor of Bacchus, although represented as always intoxicated, was a philosopher, who accompanied his pupil in his Indian expedition, and aided him by the soundness of his judgment. Virgil makes him deliver the principles of the epicurean doctrines on the formation of the world, and the nature of things. Aelian gives us his conversation with Midas regarding the unknown world of Plato and other philosophers. He was also considered an able warrior and a wit. Aelian derives his name from Sillainein. The nymphs who follow his train were considered as typical of the water necessary to dilute his potations, and the influence of love in checking intemperance.

Montaigne informs us that the celebrated Sylvius recommended an occasional debauch; and the late Dr. Gregory was of opinion than an occasional excess is, upon the whole, less injurious to the constitution than the practice of daily taking a moderate quantity of any fermented liquor or spirit. Experience, however, does not uphold the doctor's opinion; and, as I have observed in a preceding article, occasional excesses are far more injurious than habitual indulgences, under which, in the most unfavourable climates, men attain advanced years. An occasional excess actually brings on a state of sickness, which, in persons habitually sober, may not only last for several days, incapacitating them from any pursuit, but be frequently followed by serious accidents. Of course I am not alluding to a constant state of intoxication, which will often bring on delirium, tremor, apoplexy, and other destructive accidents.

The appearances after death in drunkards exhibit great derangement in organic structure. The brain is generally firmer than usual. Serum is not unfrequently found effused in its cavities; and, what is singular, this watery fluid is often impregnated with the odour of the deceased's potations, such as rum, gin, or brandy. Schrader relates several instances of the kind. Aether has also been detected after the medicine had been freely exhibited. Dr. Ogston states that above four ounces of fluid were found in the ventricles of a drunkard's brain, that had all the physical qualities of alcohol. He thinks that this effusion takes place previously to the coma of intoxication, as he found it in considerable quantities in two cases of drowning in the stage of violent excitement from spirituous liquors. The mucous coats of the stomachs of drunkards, instead of being "worn out," according to the vulgar expression, are thickened, and sometimes softened; but in most cases they are found hardened. This condition is not likely to accelerate death; on the contrary, the stomach is less susceptible of the action of stimulating articles of diet, or excess in eating or drinking, than when in a healthy state of excitability. When drunkenness proves fatal, it appears that a portion of the spirituous part of the liquor is actually absorbed and carried into the circulation and the brain. Dr. Copeland has given the following very luminous and correct view of the pathology of drunkenness. "During the general nervous and vascular excitement consequent on the stimulus, increased determination to the head takes place, attended by excited vascular action, which soon terminates in congestion as the excitement becomes exhausted, and gives rise to drowsiness, sopor, and coma. With this state of the disorder effusion of serum takes place in the ventricles and between the membranes, heightening the sopor and coma. When the congestion or effusion amounts so high as to impede the functions of the organs at the basis of the encephalon and of the respiratory nerves, respiration becomes unfrequent and laborious, and consequently the changes produced by it on the blood insufficiently performed. In proportion as the blood is less perfectly changed in the lungs, the circulation through them is retarded, and the phenomena of asphyxy,--congestion of the lungs, right side of the head, brain, and liver; the circulation of unarterialized blood; the imperfect evolution of animal heat, and sedative effects upon the brain and nervous system generally,--follow in a more or less marked degree, according to the quantity of the intoxicating fluid that has been taken, and either gradually disappear after some time, or increase until life is extinguished. These phenomena are heightened by cold, which depresses the vital action in the extremities and surface to which it is applied, and increases the congestion in the above organs. The fatal consequences of intoxication are often averted by the occurrence of vomiting, the stomach thereby being relieved from a great part of the poison."

Besides wine and spirituous liquors various other substances have been employed to bring on this supposed pleasurable state. The Syrian rue (Peganum Harmala), was constantly used by Sultan Solyman. The Hibiscus Saldarissa of the Indians, which furnishes their bangne, is supposed to be the Nepenthes of the ancients. The Penang or Indian beetle, the Hyosciamus Niger. The Belladonna, the Cocculus Indicus, are drugs that have been resorted to by various nations. The last ingredient has made the fortune of many of our wealthy brewers, at the expense of public sobriety and health.

In the accidents that follow intoxication, bleeding has frequently been resorted to. Nothing can be more hazardous than this practice, justly condemned by Darwin, Trotter, and most physicians, who have had frequent opportunities of witnessing the distressing train of symptoms that inebriety brings on. Coffee and green tea will be found the most efficacious antidotes, when no sickness prevails. Nausea is counteracted by effervescent and aromatic draughts, such as soda-water, (so highly appreciated by Byron, when accompanied by a sermon, after a night's conviviality,) spruce-beer, Seidlitz powders, &c. The ancients had recourse to various means to counteract the effects of wine, and amongst others we find olives and olive oil, wormwood, and saffron. The Greeks used a solution of salt, a common remedy among seafaring men to the present day; and the Romans surrounded their heads with wreaths of various refreshing plants. When Aristotle tells us that Dionysius of Syracuse remained in a state of intoxication for eighty days, we must suppose that he got drunk every morning.

That the ancients were in the habit of diluting their wine with water, there cannot be a doubt. The Lacedaemonians accused those who drank it pure of acting like Scythians,--an expression introduced ever since Cleomenes the Spartan had learned to drink freely amongst them. The Thracians were also accused of this practice, which clearly proves that it was not general. Philochorus reports that Amphictyon, king of Athens, learned to mix wine and water from Bacchus himself, on which account he dedicated an altar to the god. According to Athenaeus, this dilution was of various strength; sometimes in the proportion of one to two, at others of one to five. The Lacedaemonians used to boil their wine till the fifth part was consumed, under the impression that they thus deprived it of its spirituous qualities. Sometimes this boiled wine was laid by for four years.

To add to the intoxicating power of wine various means were resorted to, and a mixture of myrrha was supposed to produce this effect. Such was the murrhina of the Romans, mentioned in St. Mark's gospel, and which was given to malefactors before their execution.

Notwithstanding the sobriety of the ancients, my fair readers may perhaps be glad to know that the ladies were allowed to indulge in an occasional stoup; and the Greek matrons and virgins were by no means restricted in a moderate use of the grape's delicious juice, as illustrated by Homer in Nausica and her companions. In the ancient entertainments the first libation was offered up to Vesta, as being, according to Cicero, rerum custos intimarum, or keeper of things most concealed; or, according to Aristocritus, for the services rendered by this goddess to Jupiter in his war against the Giants. However, without any erudite comments, it is very probable that even the poor Vestals were sometimes delighted when they could take a drop of wine to beguile their solitude.

The phenomena of drunkenness have been so ably described by Macnish, that I most gladly transcribe the following passage from that author's excellent work, called the "Anatomy of Drunkenness."

"First an unusual serenity prevails over the mind, and the soul of the votary is filled with a placid satisfaction. By degrees he is sensible of a soft and not unmusical humming in the ears, at every pause of the conversation. He seems, to himself, to wear his head lighter than usual upon his shoulders. Then a species of obscurity, thinner than the finest mist, passes before his eyes, and makes him see objects rather indistinctly. The lights begin to dance and appear double, a gaiety and warmth are felt at the same time about the heart. The imagination is expanded, and filled with a thousand delightful images. He becomes loquacious, and pours forth, in enthusiastic language, the thoughts, which are born, as it were, within him.

"Now comes a spirit of universal contentment with himself and all the world. He thinks no more of misery: it is dissolved in the bliss of the moment. This is the acme of the fit--the ecstasy is now perfect. As yet the sensorium is in tolerable order, it is only shaken, but the capability of thinking with accuracy still remains. About this time the drunkard pours out all the secrets of his soul. His qualities, good or bad, come forth without reserve; and now, if at any time, the human heart may be seen into. In a short period, he is seized with a most inordinate propensity to talk nonsense, though he is perfectly conscious of doing so. He also commits many foolish things, knowing them to be foolish. The power of volition, that faculty which keeps the will subordinate to the judgment, seems totally weakened. The most delightful time seems to be that immediately before becoming very talkative. When this takes place a man turns ridiculous, and his mirth, though more boisterous, is not so exquisite. At first the intoxication partakes of sentiment, but, latterly, it becomes merely animal.

"After this the scene thickens. The drunkard's imagination gets disordered with the most grotesque conceptions. Instead of moderating his drink, he pours it down more rapidly than ever, glass follows glass with reckless energy. His head becomes perfectly giddy. The candles burn blue, or green, or yellow, and when there are perhaps only three on the table, he sees a dozen. According to his temperament, he is amorous, or musical, or quarrelsome. Many possess a most extraordinary wit, and a great flow of spirits is generally attendant. In the latter stages, the speech is thick and the use of the tongue in a great measure lost. His mouth is half open, and idiotic in the expression; while his eyes are glazed, wavering and watery. He is apt to fancy that he has offended some one of the company, and is ridiculously profuse in his apologies. Frequently he mistakes one person for another, and imagines that some of those before him are individuals who are in reality absent or even dead. The muscular powers are all along much affected; this indeed happens before any great change takes place in the mind and goes on progressively increasing. He can no longer walk with steadiness, but totters from side to side. His limbs become powerless and inadequate to sustain his weight. He is, however, not always sensible of any deficiency in this respect, and while exciting mirth by his eccentric motions, imagines that he walks with the most perfect steadiness. In attempting to run, he conceives that he passes the ground with astonishing rapidity. In his distorted eyes all men and even inanimate nature itself, seem to be drunken, while he alone is sober. Houses reel from side to side, as if they had lost their balance; trees and steeples nod like tipsy bacchanals; and the very earth seems to slip under his feet and leave him walking and floundering in the air.

"The last stage of drunkenness is total insensibility. The man tumbles, perhaps, beneath the table, and is carried off in a state of stupor to his couch dead drunk.

"No sooner is his head laid upon the pillow, than it is seized with the strongest throbbing. His heart beats quick and hard against his ribs. A noise like the distant fall of a cascade, or rushing of a river is heard in his ears--rough--rough--rough--goes the sound. His senses now become more drowned and stupified. A dim recollection of his carousals, like a shadowy and indistinct dream, passes before the mind. He still hears, as in echo, the cries and laughter of his companions. Wild fantastic fancies accumulate thickly around the brain. His giddiness is greater than ever; and he feels as if in a ship tossed upon a heaving sea. At last he drops insensibly into a profound slumber.

"In the morning he awakes in a high fever. The whole body is parched; the palms of the hands, in particular, are like leather. His head is often violently painful. He feels excessive thirst; while his tongue is white, dry, and stiff. The whole inside of the mouth is likewise hot and constricted, and the throat often sore. Then look at his eyes--how sickly, dull and languid! The fire which first lighted them up the evening before is all gone. A stupor like that of the last stage of drunkenness still clings about them, and they are disagreeably affected by the light. The complexion sustains as great a change: it is no longer flushed with gaiety and excitation, but pale and wayworn, indicating a profound mental and bodily exhaustion. There is probably sickness, and the appetite is totally gone.

"Even yet the delirium of intoxication has not left him, for his head still rings, his heart still throbs violently, and if he attempt to get up, he stumbles with giddiness. The mind also is sadly depressed, and the proceedings of the previous night are painfully remembered. He is sorry for his conduct, promises solemnly never again so to commit himself, and calls impatiently for something to quench his thirst.

"Persons of tender and compassionate minds are particularly subject, during intoxication, to be affected to tears at the sight of any distressing object, or even on hearing an affecting tale. Drunkenness, in most characters, may be said to melt the heart and open the fountain of sorrow. Their sympathy is often ridiculous, and aroused by the most trifling causes. Those who have a lively imagination, combined with this tenderness of heart, sometimes conceive fictitious cases of distress, and weep bitterly at the woes of their own creating.

"There are also some persons on whom drunkenness calls forth a spirit of piety, or rather of religious hypocrisy, which is both ludicrous and disgusting. They become sentimental over their cups, and while in a state of debasement most offensive to God and man, they will weep at the wickedness of the human heart, entreat you to eschew swearing and profane company, and have a greater regard for the welfare of your immortal soul. These sanctimonious drunkards seem to consider ebriety as the most venial of offences!"

Inebriety has sometimes a curious effect upon the memory. Actions committed during intoxication may be forgotten on a recovery from that state.

Drunkenness differs materially according to the nature of the intoxicating potation. Wine in general may be considered as less injurious, and its effects more transient than spirituous liquors, that produce great excitement, followed by indirect debility and visceral obstruction. The inebriety produced by alcoholic preparations, moreover, is attended with a delirious state, furious and uncontrollable, or followed by congestion and torpor. Malt liquors render their victims heavy, stupid, and more obstinate than violent, and a long continuance in their use produces a state of imbecility, observed so early as Aristotle.

Similar differences are observable in the effects of different liquors on the imagination. Wine most undoubtedly produces a greater vivacity of ideas and a more brilliant scintillation of wit and fancy. Hoffmann, indeed, considered the juice of the grape as indispensable to poetic inspiration, and it is very doubtful whether Pegasus was ever benefited by a draught of beer. But, alas! of what avail are the considerations regarding the effects of the pernicious habit of drinking? When once accustomed to the cheering stimulus of liquor, it matters not what the drunkard takes, and if Champagne or Burgundy are not at hand, gin or rum will prove a substitute, perhaps less grateful, but still not unwelcome. Drinking becomes the only refuge from those cares which owe their very origin to excesses, and they must be drowned in any bowl that can be filled to drive away the blue devils.

Vina parant animos, faciuntque caloribus aptos, Cura fugit, multo diluiturque mero: Tunc veniunt risus, tunc pauper cornua sumit; Tunc dolor et curae, rugaque frontis abit, Tunc aperit mentis aevo, rarissima nostro Simplicitas, artes excutiente Deo.

DECAPITATION.

As I have observed in a preceding article, much doubt exists whether decapitation puts an end to our sufferings, as it has not and most probably will never be ascertained, whether the body or the head are first deprived of sensation or vitality. Galvanic experiments had been resorted to, but were warmly opposed by Professor Ferry on the plea of humanity, as he maintained that unless we were certain that sensation had ceased, we had no right to submit the unfortunate culprits who had been decapitated to this trial. Guillotin (whose name was given to the terrific machine so closely connected in our recollection with the horrors of the French Revolution, which he introduced from the East and Germany) maintained that the moment the head was severed from the body all sensation ceased. Cabanis and Petit were of a similar opinion. Sue, Aldini, Mojon, Weicard, Liveling, Castel, and other physiologists, founded their belief in a contrary doctrine, upon numerous experiments on various animals. Sue grounded his arguments upon two chief points: first, the sudden effect produced by decapitation upon the two most powerful regulators of the functions of life, the brain and the heart; and secondly, on the consideration that the section of the neck was often uneven and jagged, splinters of bones irritating the bruised nerves, vessels, and spinal marrow.

According to this view of the matter, existence was not immediately destroyed by decollation. Castel thought that this principle was extinguished in the head sooner than the body. Sue and Julia de Fontenelle were of a different opinion. Dubois of Amiens endeavoured to prove the non-existence of pain after decapitation, by showing that convulsive movements, epileptic and hysteric attacks, were not accompanied by any painful sensations. In decapitation, he thinks that the suddenness and violence of the blow must produce insensibility, for we cannot imagine that the section of the spinal marrow thus violently performed can occasion pain; and if any sensations were experienced in that awful moment, it is more than probable that the violent perturbation would render them obtuse. As to any feelings of the separated head, he does not think that any muscular convulsions observed in it can indicate the existence of pain.

To these arguments of the Amiens physiologist, Julia de Fontenelle replied that it was never maintained that convulsive movements were expressive of pain, although it was not impossible that epileptic and hysterical patients may have experienced painful sensations during their attacks that might be forgotten upon their recovery, as somnambulists bear no recollection of what passed during their disturbed slumbers. The convulsive affections alluded to by Dubois were frequently expressive both of pleasure and of pain, or marked with a character of stupor or of indifference, whereas the convulsive movement observed in the features of the decapitated invariably expressed anguish; in support of his firm belief in the existence of the power of sensation after execution, he refers to the observations of Soemmering, Mojou, and Sue, who had remarked that when the head was turned towards the solar rays, the eyes instantly closed,--a phenomenon that could not take place if the eyes were dead. Dr. Montault jocosely observes that it is to be regretted that, to decide this controversy, recourse cannot be had to the experiments, recorded by Bacon, of an inquisitive person who hanged himself for the purpose of ascertaining if strangulation was a painful operation. One of his friends very fortunately cut him down ere it was too late, when the curious experimentalist was quite satisfied that hanging was by no means painful or unpleasant, and that the moment strangulation took place, he had been struck with a flickering light, that was instantly followed by utter darkness.

Various cases are recorded of individuals thus cut down, when hanged by accident, or executed. In most instances they stated that they had experienced a pleasurable sensation as strangulation took place. I have already alluded to the curious fate of the well-known composer of the "Battle of the Prague."

MUMMIES.

Much doubt exists regarding the derivation of the word mummy. Bochard, Menage, Vossius, attributed it to the Arabic noun mum, meaning wax. Salmasius derives it from mumia, a body embalmed and aromatized. The Persian word mumiya, means bitumen or mineral pitch. Abd-Allatif, an Arabian physician, describes mummy as a substance flowing from the tops of the mountains, and which mixing with the water that streamed down, coagulates like mineral pitch.

Many are the opinions relating to the custom of embalming men and various animals in ancient Egypt. By some it has been considered a superstitious practice, by others the result of affection. To keep the remains of those we loved upon earth free from the destructive power of death, and preserving in some degree those forms that once flitted before us and around us in all the enjoyments of life, is a natural, one might almost say an instinctive, sentiment;--preserving those fond remains upon earth, exempted from the painful sight of beholding them committed to the earth--earth to earth--for ever! How different must have been the feelings of the relatives of the departed, when leaving the body reposing in the tomb, still preserving the form of its mortal coil--still in the world--where all we loved might be visited and spoken to in the language of affection and regret--how different must have been these feelings when compared to those that compress the respiration and check our utterance, after seeing that body separated from us, and leaving a chasm around us deeper still than the grave. We are, however, to seek in this practice other motives. The wisdom of the theocratic government of ancient Egypt was most admirable, and not founded upon mortal affections and dislikes. The sovereign priesthood had to attend to concerns of greater magnitude. The first inhabitants of Egypt, migrating most probably from the upper regions of Ethiopia, had to colonize an unhealthy region, to struggle with swamps and marshes, and destroy myriads of animals, whose decomposition added to the dangers they had to encounter when settling in such an unhealthy land. Pestilence, no doubt, as in after times, frequently desolated the infant kingdom. Their priests, in whose temples were recorded in mystic legends all the science of the age, must have applied their experience and their judgment to meet the evil, and surmount it, were it possible. The ideas of corruption are closely connected with those of putrescency; and putrescency has ever been considered the chief source and focus of pestilential maladies. To avoid corruption and putrescence, then, became one of the most important Hygienic studies; and, like Moses, who had received his early education in Egypt, its priesthood enforced salutary laws as the injunction of the Creator; nor was the task as difficult as it might have proved in a more extensive and more diversified region. The population resided in a land of no very great extent; their climate did not vary according to prominent topographical circumstances; and the produce of the soil, as regarded alimentary substances, admitted of little variety. Thus it became easy to establish salutary institutions to regulate the mode of living of the obedient people, who looked upon the commands of their sainted legislators as dictates from the eternal throne.

Impressed with the conviction of the immortality of the soul, the Egyptian priesthood imagined, or, at any rate, endeavoured to persuade the multitude that the immortal part of our being was retained within its earthly house so long as the corporal form could be preserved entire, and if (which is most probable) they believed in the resurrection of the soul either in its human form or that of some other animal, this doctrine may be easily accounted for as founded upon reason, and grateful to the sensitive feelings. A belief in the transmigration of souls naturally led to the desire of retaining them as long as it was possible in their former abodes; and the lines of Virgil--

Animamque sepulchro, Condimus,

would seem to warrant this belief amongst the ancients. St. Augustine clearly tells us that the Egyptians did believe in a resurrection.

Amongst other prophylactic means to resist epidemic diseases the embalming of the dead must naturally have occurred to the sacred college as one of the most effectual means of checking or preventing contagion. Not only was man submitted to this process, but every animal, domestic or obnoxious, was equally preserved. It may be said, if destruction was rendered a prudent step, why were not these bodies consumed by fire? The reason appears to me obvious. It was necessary to check the consumption of animal food; therefore were various animals considered sacred, and not allowed to be immolated for the use of the multitude; other animals were considered noxious, and as such their use was forbidden. Religion thus stamped them with the irrevocable dye of holiness or corruption. Mystic characters were traced upon their remains. The sanctity of these animals sometimes varied in different districts, and the ibis was venerated where the serpent was disregarded. When we contemplate the thousands of crocodiles in the caverns of Samoun, the myriads of the ibis in the desert of Hermopolis, Antinoe, Memphis,--when we behold even the eggs that were destined to perpetuate their race thus preserved,--had not these animals been thus respected, they would have become the food of the inhabitants, and, both from their abundance and their unwholesome qualities, have added to the frequent scourges that desolated the land.

Here again we find that this anomaly was unavoidable: those myriads of animals, from the nature of the climate and the soil would have increased to such numbers as to overrun the land. What was to be done? Had they been considered edible, most unquestionably they would have been devoured as food; it therefore became necessary to destroy and embalm them: this destruction was no doubt inculcated as a religious duty; otherwise, how should we find even to the present day, such numbers of these creatures, preserved through the lapse of ages, with their very eggs,--another proof that even their incubation was checked. Placed between the desolate desert and the sea, numerous must have been the races of animals who sought refuge in this wondrous region; and, as Lagasquie observes, in the Necropolis of Alexandria and Memphis, at Arsinoe, Charaounah, Achmin, Beni-Hacan, Samoun, Hermopolis, Thebes, and in innumerable hypogean monuments, we find the remains of thousands--nay of millions--of ibises, crocodiles, cats, rats, dogs, jackals, wolves, monkeys, serpents, nay, fishes of various kinds. Passalacqua found at Thebes numbers of birds, rats, mice, toads, adders, beetles and flies, all embalmed together. Nay, Herodotus informs us that the animals considered sacred in one city, were held in abhorrence in others, a difference of opinion that not unfrequently occasioned bitter hostilities. Thus the Ombites fought with the Tentyrites on account of the sparrowhawks, and the Cynopolitans waged war with the Oxyrhynchites from disputes about dogs and pikes. These schisms no doubt arose from priestly ambition, each temple claiming its especial shrine of adoration, for whatever might have been the original motive that led to those theological practices, there is no doubt but all these animals were to a certain degree typical of the good and evil propensities of the various deities, as manifested in their several habits, whence they were selected in the symbols and attributes of the sovereign powers. Abbe Banier endeavours to prove that the bull was the symbol of Osiris and Isis, and that these divinities were themselves symbolic of the sun and moon. Thus the worship of the bull, Mnevis and Apis. The inhabitants of Mendes adored the god Pan, and worshipped him under the figure of a goat, and Mercury is represented with the head of a dog, the most intelligent of animals. Thus in time people lost sight of the origin of the worship, and transferred their adoration to the symbols, as many Roman Catholics transfer their worship of the saints to their wooden images.

The priesthood of Egypt sought not their power in terror, but in affection and gratitude. They strove to convince the people that they were their true friends and real benefactors; their sole study was their welfare, their greatest pride the nation's prosperity. Gratitude appears to be the sentiment they most sought to inculcate. The serpent was held in veneration, because it destroyed noxious vermin; the ibis was respected from the same motive; the crocodile for the protection it afforded their navigable waters; yet, by one of those strange anomalies that we find in most mythological reveries, animals were held sacred, although they constantly destroyed other sacred creatures; and while the crocodile was worshipped, the ichneumons that destroyed its eggs were also entitled to respect. Such was the value of the remains of departed relatives and friends, that their embalmed bodies were often pledged for large sums. The more readily advanced, since their redemption was considered a sacred duty. Thus do we find worldly regulations, bearing the sanctity of a theologic seal. Then again how mighty must have been the hierarchy from whose doctrines emanated the Pharaonic splendour of their stupendous monuments--works of art, that attracted the notice and the admiration of all the civilized part of the globe, whose travellers while they flocked to view their magnificence, were taught to cultivate the sciences and arts, which the priesthood professed, smatterings of which those visiters proudly carried back as a precious gift to their country. Moreover what occupation must have been afforded to the people and to their numerous captives, whom they continually dreaded, from the apprehension that in their constant wars, their prisoners might join their enemies--a circumstance fully proved in Holy Writ, where we find, in Exodus i. 10, that the Hebrews were oppressed, "lest when there falleth out any war, they join also unto our enemies and fight against us."

This overwhelming power, most fortunately wise and humane, was maintained by every artifice that ingenuity could devise. Egypt has justly been denominated the Alma Mater of superstition, since we have every reason to suppose, that with much less wisdom and learning, every successive hierarchy has sought by similar means to retain an equal sway. In Egypt this influence must have been amazing, they held the first rank after the sovereign, whom they assisted in the performance of all his public duties, were present in all his councils, and directed his judgment from the lessons which were laid down for his conduct in the sacred records. All the judges and principal officers of state were also selected in the priesthood; their number must also have been very considerable, since we find them classed as chief priests or pontiffs, and inferior priests of various grades belonging to the sacred deities, prophets, judges, hierophants, magistrates, hierogrammats, or sacred scribes; Basilico grammats, or royal scribes; Sphragistae, whose office it was to examine the victims, and to put a seal of approbation on them before the sacrifice. Hierostoli, who had access to the Adytum, to clothe the statues of the gods; doctors, embalmers; hierophori, or the bearers of sacred emblems; pterophori, or bearers of the fans carried before the gods; praecones, or pastophori, bearers of the holy images, and keepers of the sacred animals; hierolaotomi, or masons of the priestly order, besides innumerable painters, sculptors, sprinklers of holy water, and flappers to drive away the flies.

Kings were chiefly selected from the priestly order, and when they had been members of the military class, they were obliged to enter a sacerdotal college before they could ascend the throne; even then, they were only allowed to be attended by the children of families belonging to the priesthood.

If such was the influence of priests, that of the priestesses were not the less powerful. The Pellices, or Pallacides of Amun, filled offices of the highest importance, and not unfrequently queens and princesses prided themselves in performing their duties. The subdivision of the female attendants of the temples was also sanctified, and they were chiefly selected in the families of priests. If we are to believe the Grecian accounts, these holy women were not remarkable for their chastity; their indiscretions, however, were confined to their own circle. These assertions, have been by no means general, nor is it probable that a class of men who affected so much purity, and observed such a rigid abstinence to obtain the character of sanctity to which their power was due, would have exposed themselves to the results of such an improvident mode of living.

My view of the origin of embalming both men and animals is borne out by another striking circumstance. The moment the practice of embalming the bodies of men and animals ceased in Egypt, pestilence appeared. At the period when Christianity was introduced into Egypt, the new religion had to encounter many obstacles in overcoming the obstinate prejudices of the ancient creed. During the four first centuries of its propagation, the ancient customs were persevered in; at last the cross triumphed and was enthroned, and the practice of embalming was abolished. In 356, St. Anthony, upon his death-bed, anathematised it as sacrilegious; his last injunction according to St. Athanasius, his historian, had such an effect, that an injudicious zeal prevailed in Rome, in Constantinople, and other large cities, and led to the practice of inhuming bodies in churches and cemeteries, notwithstanding the prohibition of the magistracy. While the dead were interred in towns, or their vicinity, in dwelling houses and gardens, the remains of animals were scattered abroad to become part of the soil, and thus this most dangerous innovation hurried on the development of the most dangerous of diseases. In 1542, under Justinian, Egypt was avoided as the focus of pestilence. It would be difficult to point out the exact period when the custom of embalming fell into disuse; but it had ceased to be practised at the time when pestilence burst forth over the land in all its irresistible horrors. The coincidence was too remarkable not to have been noticed.

It is certainly true that the plague had visited Egypt at former periods, recorded in holy writ, when we know not to what extent the preparation of mummies might have been carried, although we find that Jacob was embalmed by physicians; but when we consider the topography of Egypt presenting a vast plain exposed to a yearly inundation, its soil preserved for centuries from the admixture of animal substances, but of a sudden changed into a mass of corrupted bodies of men and animals, acted upon by heat and moisture,--when the inhumation of man was neglected, and the offals of beasts and reptiles accumulated in pestilential heaps,--we may easily imagine what a luxuriant field was submitted to the scythe of death.

The Egyptians had, no doubt, introduced the practice of embalming the dead from Ethiopia, a country abounding in various gums, which served them to preserve the remains of their relatives. The transparency of these substances had induced some travellers to assert that the bodies were imbedded in glass, like insects found in amber. De Pau, and many other writers, have exposed the absurdity of such a report, since it is more than probable that glass was scarcely, if at all, known amongst them. The Persians enveloped their dead in wax; and the Scythians sewed them up in skins.

While the foresight and wisdom of the Egyptian sacerdocy was thus distinguished by Hygienic institutions, their interests were not neglected; and the art of embalming, which they monopolized with every other branch of learning, tended not a little to add to their emoluments. Every dead body was their property. Herodotus tells us, that if the corpse of an Egyptian, or a stranger, was found in the Nile, or cast upon its banks, the priests alone had the power to touch it, and afford it a sepulture. This interesting, although not very veracious author, gives the following account of the process. There are in Egypt a particular class of people whose sole business consists in embalming bodies. When a corpse is shown them, they exhibit models of mummies depicted upon wood. These models are of three kinds, and vary in prices. The bargain being concluded, the embalmers commence their labours. The brains are first extracted through the nose with a crooked iron instrument; an incision is then made in the side of the body with a sharpened Ethiopian stone, through which the viscera are drawn. These are cleansed out, washed in palm wine, and then strewed with pulverized aromatic substances. The abdomen is stuffed with powdered myrrha, cinnamon, and other perfumes, but without incense. After these manipulations, the body is sewn up, and salted with natrum for seventy days. This period elapsed, the corpse is again washed, and swaddled up with rollers of linen, covered with gum, which the Egyptians commonly use instead of glue. The relations, after this operation, carry home the body, and place it in a wooden case resembling the human form; afterwards locking it up in chambers destined for the purpose, and placing it upright against the wall. This is the most expensive process. The next is more economical. Syringes are filled with an unctuous fluid, extracted from the cedar; this liquor is thrown into the body through an incision performed in the side, and is of such a nature that it gradually corrodes and destroys the viscera: after the body has been duly salted, nothing then remains but the bones and skin, which this substance does not affect.

Diodorus Siculus gives an account somewhat similar, but adds some curious particulars. The first class of funerals cost a silver talent; the second twenty minae; and the third scarcely any thing. The embalmers divide their labours into various offices. The first, or the scrivener, points out the part of the body on the left side where the incision is to be made. The next operator is the incisor, who uses for the purpose a sharp Ethiopian pebble; the viscera are then drawn out, with the exception of the heart and kidneys; and the body is then washed with palm wine and aromatics. The corpse is afterwards inuncted with the gum of cedar, and strewed with myrrha, cinnamon, and various spices. It is ultimately returned to the family of the deceased, in such preservation that the eyebrows and eyelids are uninjured, and the countenance preserves the character that distinguished it during life.

Porphyrius informs us that the embalmers, after having extracted the intestines, exposed them to the sun, putting up a prayer to that luminary, and declaring that if the deceased had ever been guilty of any act of gluttony, the intestines alone were guilty, and they were therefore cast into the Nile. Plutarch alludes to a similar ceremony. The incisor appears to have been considered a degraded being, for Diodorus tells us, that, after the operation, he was pursued by the relations of the defunct, and pelted with stones, as having polluted the remains of the dead.

These accounts of the ancients have been warmly impugned by modern antiquaries, who maintained that the various substances stated to have been made use of in the process of embalming, did not possess the qualities attributed to them,--especially the liquor called cedria, drawn from the cedar-tree. Rouyer, a member of the Egyptian commission of sciences and arts, corroborates in a great measure the accounts of ancient historians; and, in a very interesting paper on the subject, we find that the bones of the nose are destroyed in some mummies, but left intact in others,--a circumstance that would lead us to think that on such occasions the brain was left in the cranium. The opening in the side did not appear to have been sewn up, but the lips of the incision merely brought into apposition. He divides mummies into those in which tanno-balsamic substances had been introduced, and those that had merely been salted. The first species were found stuffed either with aromatic resinous substances, or asphaltum and pure bitumen. These resinous substances emitted no odour, but, when cast into the fire, a thick smoke arose, and a strong aroma became evident. The mummies thus preserved were light, dry, and fragile; preserved their teeth, their hair, and eyebrows. Some of them had been gilded all over; in others, the gold had only been applied to the face, the hands, and the feet, and other parts. This practice of gilding was so general, that it does not warrant the belief that it was only the remains of the illustrious and wealthy that were thus ornamented. These mummies, so long as they were kept in a dry place, were unaltered; but were soon decomposed, and emitted an unpleasant effluvium, when exposed to atmospheric moisture. The mummies thus prepared were of an olive colour, while those preserved with bituminous substances were of a reddish tinge; the integuments hard and shining, as if varnished. The features were not altered, and the cavities were filled with a black, hard, and inodorous resinous substance. The ingredients thus employed were similar to the bitumen of Judea; most of them were gilded.

Other mummies were found without any lateral incision, when, most probably, the intestines were drawn out through the rectum. These cavities were filled with the substance termed by historians Pissasphaltos. In the mummies merely cured with salt, when this ingredient is abundant, the features are obliterated, the surface of the body having been smeared with bitumen. These mummies which of course are the remains of the poorer classes, are the most common. They are heavy, hard, and black, and shed an unpleasant odour. They boast of no gilding; only the palms of the hands, the soles of the feet, and the nails, had frequently been decorated with a red tinge; most probably by the application of the henne. These were the mummies which were sold by the Arabs in former times for medicinal purposes. For a further description of the mode of enveloping the bodies and the history of embalming, I must refer to the valuable labours of Mr. Pettigrew.[52] The process of embalming appears to have consisted simply in extracting the viscera, or destroying them by some corrosive injection; dissolving the mucous and fatty matter by the long application of natrum; and, finally, in desiccating the corpse by exposure to air or stoving.

Mummies have been also found in the Canary islands, where they were named by the Guanchi xaxos. They were light, dry, of a yellow colour, shedding a slight aroma, and carefully enclosed in goat-skins. The operation was also performed with a sharpened Ethiopian stone, called tabona. Humboldt found numerous mummies in Mexico, where desiccated bodies have not unfrequently been seen in the open air.

Certain soils appear to possess a preservative quality, without any apparent preparation having been made use of. In the catacombs of Bordeaux and Toulouse, these dried bodies may be seen, the hair and eyebrows still intact; but they are dark and shrivelled, and it does not appear that the contents of the cavities had been extracted or heeded, the process of desiccation being general. The miraculous conservation of bodies recorded by Calmet in his History of Vampires was nothing more than instances of a similar preservation.

Various experiments have proved that the progress of chemistry has been so great, that we might equal the Egyptians in the preparation of mummies, if ever such an absurd practice were introduced.

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries mummies formed one of the ordinary drugs found in Apothecaries shops, and as considerable sums were expended in its purchase as had been laid out upon the besoards of various rare animals. It became a lucrative branch of trade to the Jews. The demand not being easily supplied from the vigilance of the Egyptian Government, various frauds were introduced. So powerful were the supposed qualities of mummies, that Francis I. always carried a small parcel of it about him mixed with rhubarb. Lord Bacon tells us that mummy has great force in stanching of blood. Boyle assures us that it is one of the useful medicines commended and given for falls and bruises. The Arabs to this day make use of mummy powder mixed up with bitters. This preparation is called mantey, and is esteemed a sovereign remedy for bruises.

HYDROPHOBIA.

This term has been erroneously applied to the disease arising from the bite of a rabid animal, since many instances are recorded of mad dogs not only drinking freely of water and other fluids, but actually swimming across rivers; while, on the other hand, the horror of water has attended maladies totally unconnected with rabid injuries: Sauvages plainly expresses himself on this subject. "Apud Gallo-provincales, experientia, canes lubosque rabidos bibisse, munducasse, flumen transnasse, ut olim Maralogis et bis Forolivii observatum, adeoque nec potum aversari." Dr. James relates the case of a mad dog that drank both milk and water, and swam through a pond. Similar cases are recorded of mankind.

This disease was known to the ancients, and the Greek term for rabies was lyssa, referred to several times by Homer, when Hector is compared to a mad dog by Teucer and Ulysses. It was also known by the name of cynolisson, phobodipson, and hygrophobia. According to Plutarch, the disease was first observed in the time of Asclepiades. Coelius Aurelianus is the most correct of the ancient writers on the subject. This disease, although it may appear in every climate, is far less common in hot regions than in those of a moderate temperature. In the West Indies it is unknown; nor has it been observed in South America. In Egypt and Syria it has never been seen. Mr. Barrow informs us that at the Cape of Good Hope, and amongst the Caffres, their dogs are exempt from the malady, although constantly fed upon putrid meat.

Water-dread has been observed in various rheumatic and inflammatory affections, and frequently arises in a spontaneous manner; while many cases are recorded of the alarming symptoms being witnessed when no rabid bite has been inflicted. Violent passions, both in men and animals, seem to impart a peculiar acrimony to the saliva. Meekren, Wolff, Zacutus Lusitanus, mention fatal cases after the bite of a man in a passionate fit. Le Cat gives a case of death produced by the bite of an enraged duck. Thiermayer gives us two fatal cases of the bite of a hen and a goose, and Camararius has an instance of epilepsy produced by the bite of a horse.

Of the cause of this disease we are utterly ignorant: thirst, without the means of quenching it,--the use of putrid food,--sultry weather, have been considered as producing the fearful disorder; but no one instance is recorded that can justify the opinion. The streets of Lisbon are crowded with dogs, feeding upon disgusting offal, under a burning sky, yet rabies is scarcely ever observed among them. It is more probable that certain mental emotions, such as anger and fear, have a peculiar influence on the animal. All the aggregate symptoms of the disease show that the nervous system is disturbed; and the singular effect of confidence in the treatment of persons bitten by a rabid animal, confirms the fact. This is further proved by many cases of hydrophobia unconnected with rabid bites. Marcel Donat relates the case of a woman who complained of pains in the neck and right arm, with constant trembling. In three days the pain ceased, but the tremor continued; a sense of suffocation followed, which was attended with a horror of water and every liquid, although the throat was burning. In five days she died in excruciating agonies, but preserving her senses until the last. Koehler saw a young soldier, who, having fallen asleep against a stove, was suddenly awakened with a sensation of intense thirst, which he quenched with a draught of cold water. Hydrophobia immediately ensued, and the next day terminated his existence. Selig relates the case of a man at Neukirchen, who was attacked with all the alarming symptoms of this malady after having laboured in the fields on a very hot day, and bathed in the river. The following day he was affected with violent rheumatic pains, which shortly ushered in an intolerance of fluids, and inability of swallowing. In the course of twenty-four hours he expired. It appeared upon inquiry that a year before he had purchased from the hangman of the town some dog's grease, to rub himself to relieve some troublesome affection; and it was stated that the dog had been killed by a gamekeeper, who suspected him of being mad.

Cases of plague have been attended with water-dread. Lalius Diversus saw a woman labouring under the epidemic, who was thrown into agonies when she even saw other persons drinking. Sarcotius, in his history of the epidemic diseases of Naples, informs us that the fever was invariably attended with hydrophobic symptoms. The fever that prevailed at Breslau in 1719, presented the same peculiarity.

Various venene substances have also been known to give rise to this disease. Professor Brera, of Pavia, witnessed it after the use of stramonium. Rancid oils have caused similar accidents. In regard to the causes that produced madness in dogs, numerous experiments have been made, particularly in the Veterinary School of Alfort: one dog was fed with salted meat, and totally restrained from drinking; another was allowed nothing but water; and the third was not allowed food or drink of any kind. The first died on the forty-first day; the second on the thirty-third; and the third on the twenty-fifth; not one of them evincing any symptoms of rabies.

It appears that a peculiar predisposition renders some individuals more subject to the accidents that follow the bite of rabid animals than others. Mr. Hunter gives an instance in which, out of twenty persons who were bitten by the same dog, only one received the disease. It appears, however, that this virus is less volatile than most others, and is capable of remaining in a dormant state for a very long period; and if we are to give credence to many reports on the subject, it may linger in the system for several years. At other times, its destructive nature has proved immediately injurious. Heisler has given a case where a man was affected by merely putting into his mouth the cord by which the mad dog had been confined. Palmarius relates the case of a peasant, who, in the last stage of the disease, communicated it to his children by kissing them. It has, however, been clearly demonstrated, that inoculation of rabid saliva does not propagate the distemper. Experiments were made both by Magendie and Breschet in 1813. In 1800, when a dresser in the Hotel Dieu of Paris, I witnessed several experiments of the kind, and with similar results. At the same period, I had occasion to observe the effect of imagination in many cases. Several persons had been bitten by a rabid dog in the Faubourg St. Antoine, and three of them had died in our wards; a report, however, was prevalent that we kept a mixture that would effectually prevent these accidents; no less than six applicants were served with a draught of coloured water, and in no one instance did any accident ensue.

The period of the development of the accidents after the bite in animals is various. According to Meynall, the disease appears amongst dogs from ten days to eight months after the injury. In the hounds of Earl Fitzwilliam, who were bitten in June 1791, the intervals varied from six weeks to six months. Dr. James made a similar observation in Mr. Floyer's pack.

No malady has been submitted to more curious and fearful modes of treatment than hydrophobia; and in many cases such has been the dread of the disease, that patients have been smothered or drowned. Dioscorides seared the wound with irons heated to whiteness; other practitioners first excised the wounded part, and then applied fire or caustic. While fire was resorted to by some practitioners, water was recommended by others, and submersion in a river or a pond has frequently been urged as an effectual remedy. In the time of Celsus, the miserable sufferer was thrown without any warning into a fishpond, alternately plunging his head under water and raising it: when the poor wretch could swim, he was forcibly kept immersed until filled with water. After this experiment, which Celsus terms the unicum remedium, for fear that the patient might be attacked with convulsions, he was taken out of the pond, and soused in warm oil. Van Helmont recommended that the poor devil should be kept under water while the psalm Miserere was sung, and most probably the terrified choristers were not expeditious in their performance. Morin relates the case of a young woman, twenty years old, who was plunged in a tub of water, with a bushel of salt dissolved in it, and dipped repeatedly, until she became insensible; however, much to the surprise of the bystanders, who thought her dead, she recovered, and could not only look upon water, but was able to drink it. Bleeding nearly to death, mercury, cantharides, and various medicines, have been also called into aid; but none have appeared to prove effectual in curing this dreadful disorder. One of the most singular modes of treatment was the introduction of rabid blood into the system of the patient,--in fact, a homoeopathic plan of Dr. Rithmeister of Powlowsk, in Finland, who has recorded several cases to prove that the blood of a rabid animal, when drunk, is a specific against canine hydrophobia. The doctor communicates a letter from Dr. Stockmann, a Russian physician, stating this practice to be both common and effectual in White Russia.

With a view of producing a fresh poisonous action that might neutralize the former one, it has also been proposed that a venomous serpent should be made to inflict a wound under the bite of the mad dog. I do not believe that this experiment has ever been tried; and, as Good observes, the claim of ingenuity is, most probably, the only one it will ever have to receive. This fatal disease is enveloped in so much darkness, both as regards its causes and its treatment, that it may well be considered one of the opprobriums of the profession. The experiments of my late friend Sir David Barry are, however, of great importance; and in many cases of poisonous wounds, the application of cupping-glasses has been followed by evident favourable results.

To ascertain the existence of rabies in animals, more especially in dogs, is a matter of great importance, as being frequently the source of moral depression or of sanguine hope, that may tend to increase or diminish the severity of the accidents. One may apprehend madness in a dog when we see the animal dull, and seeking solitude and darkness, his sleep disturbed, and when awakened refusing food or drink. Its head droops, the tail hangs between the legs. The animal soon quits the abode of his master, the mouth secreting a viscid foam, the tongue pendulous and dry, the eyes bright and sparkling. His gait soon becomes uncertain; now precipitate, then slow and undecided. Impatient, and parched with a burning thirst, he cannot rest; and the sight of any fluid occasions an instinctive shudder. The rabid symptoms now become more violent; the animal will attack and bite other dogs, although much superior in strength. It is asserted that dogs avoid him with terror. On these occasions the fury of the animal is not to be controlled; all ties of attachment are dissolved; and his master is but too frequently the first victim of his indiscriminate rage. Hence the absurd popular notion that mad dogs inflict their first bite on those to whom they are attached,--a circumstance that simply can be attributed to the natural endeavours of a master to check the violence of a domestic creature whom he generally can control. Mad dogs seldom bark, but express their angry uneasiness with a growl, which gradually becomes weaker, until the animal staggers, droops, and dies. Yet as there may exist many maladies amongst animals in which these symptoms are observed, to destroy them, as is usually the case, is a most absurd practice, since the individuals whom they may have bitten will sink into a fatal despondency; whereas, by allowing them to live, if they recover, it is evident that the patient will be easily persuaded that the dog was not in a rabid state.

The following cases, recorded by Dr. Perceval, are curious instances of the dormant state of this fearful virus, the effects of which are accidentally developed.

A wine-porter was labouring under a low fever; after a time appeared some symptoms of hydrophobia, and much inquiry elicited the recollection of his having been slightly bitten by a dog six weeks before. In the interval he was convicted of some fraudulent practice in the cellar of his master, to whom he owed great obligation, and was dismissed with disgrace. Anxiety on this event seemed to produce the fever, which terminated in rabies.

Lately an officer was bitten by a dog, whose madness being recognised, the bitten part was excised immediately: after an undisturbed interval of two months, he was advised to go to England to dissipate the recollection of the accident. There he exercised himself violently in hewing wood, felt pain in the hand which had been bitten, embarked for Ireland, had symptoms of hydrophobia on board the packet, and died soon after his arrival. From the varying period of attack, we might infer that the influence of occasional causes is very considerable. In the last patient, hydrophobia supervened exactly five weeks from the time of the bite: he lost one hundred and twenty ounces of blood in twelve hours, which sunk him much; violent perspiration, and at length delirium, attended the water-dread; during the last twenty-four hours he swallowed, and recovered his senses; and died slightly convulsed, whilst cutting an egg. These cases seem to point out agitation of mind and feverish excitation as powerful occasional causes.

Herman Strahl has recently related the following case of rabies in which the dog that had bitten the patient was not mad. In the month of January, 1833, an innkeeper was taken ill. The doctor found him dressed, and stretched upon his bed. He did not complain of any particular ailment, but loathed all food. He at last admitted that he experienced some difficulty in swallowing; and his mother having offered him a cup of tea, he refused it with a sense of horror, and his countenance immediately assumed a character of ferocity that terrified the bystanders. An apple having been given to him, he ate it without repugnance. It was now discovered that, five weeks before, he had been bitten by a dog he was training; and the wound was slow in healing. The dog was sought, and did not show the slightest sign of disease,--barking, playing, and drinking freely. In the evening the patient's case was aggravated; and it was with the utmost difficulty that he was made to swallow a spoonful of ptisan. The next day he was seized with a violent attack of rabies: seeing one of his sisters drinking, he fell into a furious rage, dashed a looking-glass to pieces, and entreated his relatives to withdraw, as he otherwise would inevitably bite them. This outrageous paroxysm lasted half an hour; at its expiration he fell into a tranquil sleep. But at night he was seized with another attack; and he began to howl and imitate the barking of a dog, and commenced breaking every thing in the room of a shining appearance. His sisters fled in dismay; but he seized his mother, a woman of sixty-five years of age, cast her on the ground, and bit her in the cheek. After this desperate act, he seemed to be struck with a conviction of what he had done, and became more tranquil; but, half an hour after, on entering his chamber, he was found dead, his head under the bedclothes. His mother did not experience any accidents from the injury.

It is singular that, in this miserable condition, the patients will frequently show singular partialities; and, although repulsing any fluid offered to them by some individuals, will take it from others, and attempt, however vainly, to drink. In the Hotel Dieu of Paris, a young girl, affected with hydrophobia, would only take a cup of ptisan from me; but with looks of inexpressible anxiety returned it to me, after having struggled to moisten her burning lips. At Boulogne, a postilion, bitten by a mad dog, was violent with every one but one of my nephews: from him he also accepted drink, although unable to swallow it; before dying in excruciating agonies, he repeatedly asked for him, and begged that he might be sent for. He would not allow, even in his last moments, any other person to come near him;--another striking instance of that unknown power of sympathy to which I have frequently alluded in the preceding pages.

ON THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE SCIENCE OF MEDICINE.

In a former paper I have given a sketch of the progress of the Chirurgical profession, relating the many difficulties its members had to encounter in their endeavours to attain that degree of perfection to which surgery has risen; a perfection which we have every reason to believe will still continue to be improved by the daily discoveries of the Physiologist, whose labours may be considered the theoretical guide of the practitioner. The history of medicine is equally fraught with much interest, since its being a science more or less conjectural, it has opened a vast career to the speculative mind, and a wide field for the ambitious. Having been long considered a divine inspiration, priesthood in every age considered this science an attribute of their vocation, adding to their spiritual and temporal power.

In a rude state of society it is more than probable that the art of curing diseases, as well as that of healing injuries, did not constitute a special profession, but was practised indiscriminately by all persons whose experience and position in the midst of their uncivilized kinsfolks, gave some weight and importance to their advice. Warriors attended their wounded companions in arms. Parents sought to relieve their offspring, and children endeavoured to alleviate the sufferings of their aged and infirm sires. Thus, I may say, was the art of healing instinctively taught, and not unfrequently the brute creation guided the efforts of humanity; when man contemplated the means animals resorted to when labouring under disease. Plutarch affirms that it is to these instinctive efforts of animals that we are indebted for the knowledge of the various properties of plants. The wild goats of Crete pointed out the use of the Dictamus and vulnerary herbs--dogs when indisposed sought the Triticum repens, and the same animal taught to the Egyptians the use of purgatives constituting the treatment called Syrmaism. The hippopotamus introduced the practice of bleeding, and it is affirmed that the employment of enemata was shown by the ibis. Sheep with worms in their liver were seen seeking saline substances, and cattle affected with dropsy anxiously looked for chalybeate waters. This study might therefore have been called an instinctive school.

Herodotus tells us that the Babylonians and Chaldeans had no physicians, and in cases of sickness the patient was carried out and exposed on the highway, that any persons passing by who had been affected in a similar manner, might give some information regarding the means that had afforded them relief. Shortly, these observations of cures were suspended in the temples of the gods, and we find that in Egypt the walls of their sanctuaries were covered with records of this description. The priests of these shrines soon considered these treasures as their property, and turned their possession to a good account. Amongst the Hebrews we find that the Levites were considered as the only persons who could cure leprosy, and the practice of medicine became their province.

The priests of Greece adopted the same practice, and some of the tablets suspended in their temples are of a curious character which will illustrate the custom. The following votive memorials are given by Gurter: "Some days back, a certain Caius, who was blind, learned from an oracle, that he should repair to the temple, put up his fervent prayers, cross the sanctuary from right to left, place five fingers on the altar, then raise his hand and cover his eyes. He obeyed, and instantly his sight was restored amidst the loud acclamations of the multitude. These signs of the omnipotence of the gods were shown in the reign of Antoninus."

"A blind soldier named Valerius Apes, having consulted the oracle, was informed that he should mix the blood of a white cock with honey, to make up an ointment to be applied to his eyes, for three consecutive days: he received his sight and returned public thanks to the gods."

"Julian appeared lost beyond all hope, from a spitting of blood. The god ordered him to take from the altar some seeds of the pine, and to mix them with honey, of which mixture he was to eat for three days. He was saved, and came to thank the gods in presence of the people."

The Ex volos of modern times suspended at the altars of saints in Catholic churches, are similar testimonials of superstitious credulity, and priestly fraud, and constitute a lucrative branch of business, more particularly to waxchandlers, who fabricate simulacra of every organ or member of the body that may be diseased.

Such was the study and practice of medicine, until the days of Hippocrates, justly named the father of medicine. But even this great man in his study of the problematic science, attributed to divine influence all that could not be comprehended and explained, giving the appellation of sacred, to that which appeared prodigious and inexplicable. This divine influence which was considered as invincible, setting at nought all human speculation and mortal efforts, he denominated the [Greek: to theion] the Divinum quid, he also fancied that the principle of fire was the source of all animation; for the which opinion, more modern writers pronounced him an atheist, amongst other bigots, who thus accused him, we find Gundling and Drelincourt, and even Mosheim; while on the other hand, Will Schmidt, Fabricius, and Bellunensi have sought to reconcile his doctrine with the scriptures; and so far from this accusation being founded, it is well known that Hippocrates had such an implicit belief in the power of the gods, that he got himself initiated in the Eleusinian mysteries at Athens. We find in his Praenotum the following singular passage: "Nevertheless, there does exist in all diseases something of a divine nature, and the physician who is able to foresee their results, must be admired for his judgment."

This divine something, has been the subject of much research and angry disputation. Galen considered it to reside in the atmosphere. Fernel considered it the principle of putrefaction and disorganization. Mercuriali placed it in sideral influence, while Professor Martianus maintained that Hippocrates had a firm belief in demons and malevolent spirits. It would be endless to recount all the idle disquisitions on this matter, which have too frequently converted universities into Pandemoniums.

The earliest teachers of medicine were the philosophers, amongst whom we must remark Pythagoras, who founded the school of Crotona, where assuming the sanctity of the priesthood he obtained such an authority over his disciples, that it gave rise to the common expression of jurare in verba magistri. This truly wonderful man had learnt in Egypt the secret symbolic mode of writing of the priests, and he certainly did apply his extensive acquirements to the welfare of his country and the benefit of mankind; according at least to his views of the subject, which we have every reason to believe were conscientious. From his youth, when he bore away the prize in the Olympic games, his lofty ambition, which scarcely knew any bounds, constantly urged him on in a career of perfection in every branch of learning, which ultimately placed him on the highest ground that ever philosopher attained.

After Pythagoras, we find medicine taught by Anaxagoras, Democritus, Heraclitus; but Hippocrates was justly considered the father of medicine, and deserved the name of great--every line of his immortal works breathes a deep knowledge of the phenomena of nature, and an ardent desire to release the most important of all human sciences from the degrading trammels of ignorance and imposture. Nothing can afford a more convincing proof of the purity of his motives, and the integrity of his principles than the formula of the oath which he exacted from his disciples, and which runs as follows:

"I swear by Apollo, by Esculapius, by Hygeia, and all the gods, to fulfil religiously the solemn promise which I now do make.

"I will honour as my father, the master who shall teach me the art of healing, and convince him of my gratitude, by endeavouring to minister to all his necessities. I will consider his children as my own, and will gratuitously teach them my profession should they express a desire to follow it.

"I shall act in a similar manner to all my brethren who are bound by a similar engagement, but shall not admit any other to my lessons, my discourses, or the exercises of my profession.

"I shall prescribe to my patients, such a course of regimen as I may consider best suited to their condition, according to the best of my judgment and capacity, seeking to preserve them from any thing that might prove injurious.

"No inducement shall ever lead me to administer poison, nor shall I ever give a criminal advice, or contribute to an abortion.

"My sole end shall be to relieve and cure my patients, to render myself worthy of their confidence, and not to expose myself, even to the suspicion of having abused this influence, more especially when a woman is in the case.

"I shall seek to maintain religiously both the integrity of my conduct, and the honour of my art.

"I will not operate for the stone, but leave that operation to those who cultivate it.

"To whatever dwelling I may be called, I shall cross its threshold with the sole view of succouring the sick, abstaining from all injurious views and corruption, especially from any immodest action.

"If during my attendance, or even after a recovery, I happen to become acquainted with any circumstances of the patient's life which should not be revealed, I shall consider this knowledge a profound secret, and observe on the subject a religious silence.

"May I as a rigid observer of this my oath, reap the fruit of my labours, enjoy a happy life, and obtain general esteem--should I become a perjurer, may the reverse be my lot."

At this period the physician who founded a school taught every branch of the science, and after examining his disciples, gave them a permission to practise the profession when properly qualified. Hippocrates was succeeded by his sons Thessalus and Draco.

The school of Hippocrates was followed by that of Plato who founded the dogmatic sect, but his speculative views were succeeded by the more sound doctrines of Aristotle, who was one of the first philosophers who applied himself to practical anatomy in the frequent dissections of various animals, and he struck out the important path which his successor Herophilus was fortunate enough to follow for the welfare of mankind, by submitting human bodies to the scrutinizing scalpel under the protection of Ptolemy Lagus, a protection which became the more necessary as he had been actually accused of having dissected living subjects. Tertullian affirms that he had thus sacrificed six hundred victims; but what faith can we place in such an absurd charge, which very probably arose from envy or prejudice; although his successor Erasistratus, was accused of a similar offence, and in more modern times Mondini, who was the first to reintroduce human dissections was exposed to a like charge. It was Herophilus who founded the celebrated school of Alexandria, where under the auspices of Ptolemy Philadelphus, Erasistratus succeeded him, followed by Strabo of Berytus, Strabo of Lampsacus, Lycon of Troas, Apollonius of Memphis, and many other distinguished philosophers.

It was at this period that physicians began to practise surgery, which was first taught with great repute in the Alexandrian school, and where Ammonicus and Sostrates, surnamed the lythotomists, first distinguished themselves by this important operation.

While the science of medicine thus flourished in Greece and Egypt it was scarcely known in Rome, where the first physician who ventured to practise was Archagathus from Peloponnesus. At first the bold adventurer was favourably received, but his operations having shocked a people who constantly glutted their eyes in scenes of horror, and who beheld the blood of gladiators flowing in their arena or streaming under the lictors axe! the imprudent practitioner was stoned to death by the populace, and a hundred and fifty years elapsed ere another physician could be induced to visit the ungrateful country, nor was it until the time of Pompey and of Caesar that any medical men dared to visit the "eternal city."

The first of these was Asclepiades, who commenced by giving lessons of rhetoric, which were succeeded by lectures on physic, in the first school of medicine which he founded in Rome. It was on these benches that Aufidius and Nico, Artonius and Niceratus were initiated in the art of healing, while Asclepiades formed his celebrated disciple Themison founder of the sect of the Methodists or Solidists. To this school are we also indebted for the learned Celsus justly called the Cicero of medicine. Under Trajan and Adrian the medical profession had attained great celebrity and splendour, and under M. Antoninus, and Marcus Aurelius the world became indebted to the glorious labours of Galen--but the bright days of the healing art were sinking with the star of Rome in the dark horizon of barbarism, and the works of these illustrious masters were sacrificed at the shrine of astrology, magic, and Eastern theosophy.

From this period we find Eastern superstitions mingled with the early practices and creed of Christianity, when, to use the words of Sprengel, "An allegorical explanation of words and even of the scriptures, was carried so far by the Jews that it was considered the utmost perfection of human learning. The essence of every science, and the only method of obtaining, without laborious studies, and in a state of idle contemplation, a degree of wisdom beyond the reach of all other mortals. It is thus that during the first century of our era the science of Cabala arose, a tissue of all the chimeras of Zoroaster, Pythagoras, and the Jews, and which in time, to the shame of human intellect, invaded the domain of learning, and became closely connected with medicine."

In the commencement of the second century of the church, Acibba published a work called Jezirach, and Cimeon-Ben-Ischai wrote his book entitled Sohan, in which their cabalistic labours sought to prove, that there existed a supreme being from whom emanated ten angels, who formed the first world, in which resided three personified abstractions--knowledge, intelligence, and wisdom.--Besides this first or primitive world, there existed three others moving in concentric circles--the world created, the world formed, and the world constructed! So united, so constructed, that whatever might happen in the last of these worlds had already existed in imagination in the first. From this theory it was maintained that the practice of physic was to call into action all the powers of the superior worlds; a problem that could only be solved by a cabalistic physician, who by his piety and contemplation had succeeded in rendering himself worthy of a communication with celestial agency.

Facts and observations recorded by long experience were now considered useless and contemptible data, and all terrestrial knowledge despised. Anatomy was deemed worse than useless, and the established doctrines of various schools a dead letter. Chaldean, Phoenician, Hebrew words with mystic significations were introduced as symbolic illustrations of science: no language that could be understood, was deemed intelligible, and any system that could bear the test of reason was denounced as impious.

Thus was the career opened to the craft of priests boundless. It had been believed that the apostles were gifted with the power of healing by the mere apposition of their hands, and their self-named descendants pretended to possess the same divine attributes--and not only beatified monks cured with various oils and ointments; but their very mortal remains, became precious in the hands of their monastic successors. When their mouldering bones had been sold wholesale and retail as precious relics, their very sepulchres and their shadows brought hosts of pilgrims to herd round their shrines.

The study of medicine destroyed with the glories of Rome, was revived in Egypt, where Zeno of Cyprus delivered courses of lectures at Alexandria, a school which soon after dwindled into decay, sinking into obscurity with the once famed academies of Greece.

The Roman empire dismembered, Persia became an asylum for fugitive philosophy, and the Nestorians founded a medical school at Edessa in Mesopotamia, while other sectarians equally oppressed by ostensible orthodoxy, sought a refuge in the city of Dschondi-Sabour, where numbers of Persian and Arabian students flocked to learn their doctrines, and thus we have the origin of the celebrated school of Bagdad under the protection of their caliphs.

This regeneration of science was soon communicated to the shores of Europe, and the Caliph Alhakam founded a school at Cordova possessing upwards of 300,000 volumes, and Seville, Toledo, Saragossa, and Coimbra followed the bright example. Thus was a science, banished from Europe by bigoted and misguided Christians, restored to its former seat by Mohammedans.

The progress of the science of medicine under the Moorish government was so rapid in Spain, that we find one hundred and fifty medical writers in the schools of Cordova, and sixty-two in Murcia. While the Moors thus encouraged these important studies, the priests in the western states kept the nations under their control in a state of dense ignorance, and the practice of medicine such as it was, was confined within the cloisters of monasteries and nunneries. There does still exist a treatise of medicine written by Hildegarde, Abbess of a convent at Rupertsberg. Monks opened medical schools in several cathedrals, and we find Gregory I. sending one of these medical propagators to Canterbury, where Theodore, one of its archbishops, practised the healing art.

While the study of medicine had become a privilege of ignorant friars, it was destined to assume a semblance of learning in Italy, where some intelligent Benedictines founded a school at Salerno. Here the works of the Greeks, and Romans, and Arabian physicians were once more brought to light, and in the eighth century we find Salerno crowded with students, pilgrims, and invalids. In the eleventh century, this school had obtained a pre-eminence over every other medical institution, and at the period of the crusades its fame was universal--not that the ignorant and barbarous crusaders were capable of shedding any light on the improvement of their several countries from what they might have learned in Holy Land, but many of them who had happily returned to Europe, and been landed in the kingdom of Naples, were cured of their wounds and infirmities by these Benedictine doctors, who themselves owed much of their erudition to an African of the name of Constantine, who had studied at the school of Bagdad, and translated for the monks, who had offered him an asylum, Greek, Latin, and Arabian works, which to them were sealed volumes. Amongst the celebrated adventurers of rank who had escaped from the holy wars, was Robert, son of William the Conqueror, who was cured at Salerno of a supposed incurable wound in the arm. In this manner was the fame of the Salernian school spread far and nigh, and soon Ferdinand II. founded universities at Naples and Messina.

The course of studies in the school of Salerno was three years of logic, and five years of medicine and surgery. At the expiration of these sessions, the student was admitted to examination, and after having passed, was still obliged to practise for another year under the immediate eye of an experienced physician. It was only upon his certificate as to his professional capacities, that a licence to practise was granted, upon his engaging himself by oaths, to observe the laws of the college, to attend the poor gratuitously, and to report to the magistracy all apothecaries that adulterated their drugs or neglected the proper preparation of medicines prescribed.

The custom of granting academic dignities may be traced to the Nestorians and the Jewish professors in the East, where it was carried into the Moorish possessions in Spain. The school of Salerno was the first collegiate body that adopted it in the western Christian institutions. The degree they conferred was that of Magister. Previous to the granting of this distinction seven years study were required, and the candidate was to be upwards of one-and-twenty years of age. He had to explain in a public meeting the Articella of Galen--a passage of the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, and of the first book of Avicenna, after which he was examined in the works of Aristotle, he then received the degree of Magister Artium et Physices. It was only the professors who bore the title of Doctors.

In this manner did the science of medicine struggle for several centuries with obstacles that appeared insurmountable--in turn practised and persecuted--anathematized by the clergy, and soon after becoming a lucrative privilege of the church--prejudice, superstition, and ignorance had closed anatomical theatres, and from the days when flourished the school of Herophilus until the fourteenth century, the dissection of animals was alone permitted, and it was only by stealth that the student sought some knowledge of the human structure, from mouldering bones purloined from the cemetery. A brighter era arose in the year 1315, when Mondini de Luzzi, Professor of Anatomy at Bologna, ventured to dissect human bodies--a bold attempt, as seventeen centuries had elapsed since this investigation of the book of nature, the only record where errors can be detected and truth sought for, had been prohibited. The example of Mondini, who had written a practical anatomical manual was followed in various other schools, but a barber was the person charged with the opening of the subjects, and with no other instrument then his razor he endeavoured to demonstrate the parts which Mondini's work described.

From this period we may date the revival of medicine, although in the following century it made but little progress, still clogged by astrological absurdities and Arabic errors--and a Florentine physician, Marcillo Ficin, obtained a high repute by promulgating the doctrine that the vital spirits of man were similar to the ether which filled space and directed the planets; concluding that if man could obtain this ethereal principle he might prolong his days beyond human conception, he recommended the use of preparations of gold to obtain longevity and even advised the aged to drink youthful blood to prolong their precarious life. These absurdities were refuted by Chancellor Gerson, and the faculty of Paris condemned the Florentine's visions as diabolical and perilous--but what could have been the facilities offered at that time for the study of anatomy when we find Professor Montagnana, of Padua, boasting of having examined fourteen subjects.

However the fifteenth century was destined to witness a remarkable event in the annals of medical learning, Emmanuel Chrysolore, embassador of Emmanuel Paleologus, arrived in Italy, to solicit means from the Christian powers against the inroads of the Turks. Chrysolore, during a protracted residence at Venice, employed the leisure which his diplomatic occupations left him to deliver lectures on various branches of science, and not only did he encourage the study of the Greek language, but corrected the many errors that teamed in the Arabic translation of classic works. It was to this learned man that the succeeding century were indebted for their knowledge of the works of Hippocrates, and we find that his doctrine formed the groundwork of medical studies over Europe.

But the study of the phenomena of nature founded on experience and observation was not sufficiently visionary and mystic, and soon we see cabalistic calculation and judicial astrology again subverting all doctrines that might lead to sound conclusions. Cornelius Agrippa of Cologne traversed the fairest cities of Europe, to expound the philosophy of Zamolxis and Abaris; maintaining that every Hebrew character had a natural signification, the Hebrew being, according to his ideas, not only the most ancient but a sacred language. He asserted that the language of demons was the Hebraic, and that all Hebrew letters being either favourable or hostile to these evil spirits, they might be conjured by a proper knowledge of their powers.

This visionary not only fancied that letters possessed this influence, but that it was shared by numbers. Thus to cure a tertian fever he directs the use of Verbena, to be cut at the third articulation of the plant; but in the treatment of a quartern, the disease would only yield to the fourth joints. He added that every man was under the influence of three demons--a sacred demon (a divine gift)--an innate demon--and a professional demon, sent us by the constellations and the celestial intelligences.

These reveries, however, were interrupted by the still greater absurdities of Paracelsus, a man whose ignorance could only be equalled by his vanity, since he maintained that as the genius of Greece had produced Hippocrates, the genius of Germany had created him for the salvation of mankind. He further assured his disciples that all the universities in the world had less knowledge than his beard, and that every hair of his head was more learned than all their writers.

Paracelsus was perhaps one of the most singular enthusiasts that ever swayed the schools of medicine, or assumed a despotic stand in science. To superstition, credulity, and disreputable living, he certainly did add a certain degree of genius, but more particularly a tact which established such a reputation, that, without much presumption, he might have claimed the title which he assumed, of "Prince of Medicine," to which he added the pompous appellation of Aureolus, Philippus, Paracelsus Theophrastus Bombastus ab Hoppenheim.

This strange personage was born in 1493, at Einsidlen, a village near Zurich; he studied under Fugger Schwartz, a celebrated professor of what was then called the Spagyristic school, or Hermetic Medicine, founded on a visionary doctrine that I shall shortly notice. He subsequently travelled over the greater part of Europe, chiefly courting a motley society of physicians, philosophers, old women, and barbers, culling all that he could from pretended science or unblushing ignorance. After having visited the German mines, where he became tainted with the superstition of the credulous workmen, he repaired to Russia, when he was made prisoner by a party of Tartars, who conducted him to their Cham. Taken into favour by their chief, he accompanied his son to Constantinople, where he pretended to have discovered the philosopher's stone. On his return to his native country, the magistrates of Bale appointed him to the chair of medicine; and in 1527 we find him delivering a course of lectures in the German tongue, being but an indifferent scholar. This sedentary life did not suit his roving habits; and being, moreover, likely to bring his ignorance into its proper light, he set out for Alsace with another enthusiast of the name of Oporinus, with whom however he shortly quarrelled. He continued to wander from town to town, scarcely ever sleeping, or changing his linen, clad in the most slovenly manner, and generally in a state of intoxication, until at Saltzburg in 1541 he was taken ill at a miserable inn and died in the 48th year of his busy life.

He no doubt had obtained during his adventurous career much experience, having for a long time followed armies and attended at sieges, and during epidemic maladies; but he sought to disguise his want of a proper education by the assumption of a supernatural influence. One of his wildest flights of fancy was, perhaps, his receipt to make a man without conjunction.

His doctrines were founded upon Judicial Astrology, Alchymy, Cabal, and Chemistry. Grossly ignorant in the last science, he pretended that all our diseases depended upon its combinations,--the combustion of sulphur, the effervescence of saline particles, and the coagulation and stagnation of mercury in our humours: all under the influence of the Ens Astrorum, the Ens Deale, the Ens Spirituale, the Ens Veneni, and the Ens Naturale. Mercury was evacuated through the pores of the skin; sulphur emanated from the nostrils; deliquescent sulphur was discharged by the intestines; a watery solution of sulphur arose from the eyes, while arsenic oozed out of the ears. When these evacuations did not take place, the humour became putrid, and putrescency was Localiter or Emunctor labiter--as the humours were either retained or excreted.

This humoral doctrine of Paracelsus, strange to say, obtained for upwards of a century, and many were the learned men who distracted their brains and that of their disciples to multiply his errors, since we find Sanctorius calculates 90,000 morbid alterations in these peccant humours.

In another part of this work, I have related the absurdities of Van Helmont, another visionary of the seventeenth century. Endless would be the task of recording the many systems and doctrines that have in turn ruled the schools of medicine, and been supported both by professors and disciples with a degree of virulent hostility as implacable as religious controversies; and still, while we read with contempt the absurd doctrines of our forefathers, and smile at the folly of their visions, we ourselves are advocating systems which, after a lapse of some few years, will appear just as ridiculous and preposterous to our successors in the doubtful career.

One question naturally arises from all this controversial discrepance--has society benefited by the successive revolutions which have overthrown schools and doctrines, chairs and professors? have the advocates of Sangradian phlebotomy, and those who considered that the lancet has committed greater havoc than the sword--have the employers of antimony, and those who would have sent to the scaffold opponents who gave an antimonial preparation--have either of these enthusiasts diminished, in any sensible manner, the scale of mortality, or have they influenced the prevalence of disease? This is a most important question, and, however ungracious may be the task, I shall endeavour to consider it.

It is but too true, that, with the exception of the introduction of inoculation and the cowpox, the bills of mortality do not appear, at any period, to have been influenced by the prevalence of any one medical system. This circumstance, however, cannot be admitted as invalidating the claims of medical men to a due consideration of their respective merits. I have endeavoured to show, in a preceding article, that the laws of nature appear to have regulated the equilibrium of life and death and the progress of disease with such harmony, indeed, that we might say that our existence was regulated with arithmetical accuracy. If this is admitted, it might be alleged, that if such be our fated tenure of life, recourse to medical aid becomes useless, and the efforts of physicians must prove effete. Such a deduction would be fatalism in its most absurd form; for, admitting that our days are thus numbered, the human frame may be assailed by many ailments, that may not prove fatal, but admit of relief, if they cannot be cured. It is, therefore, obvious, that the services of a physician are of great value, if he merely can alleviate our sufferings, and render a painful existence tolerable. Daily facts corroborate this assertion, and the most cruel pangs are constantly relieved by professional aid, although it is not equally evident that the same skill can prolong the patient's life, if "his hour is come;" but, as we know not when that fatal moment may strike, we must clearly seek to wind up the marvellous machinery, and keep it "going" as long as we can. We constantly behold individuals whose existence is most precarious, and yet who linger on for years, frequently to the disappointment of expectant heirs; for there is much truth in the old saying concerning those invalids who are considered to "have one foot in the grave," they find that foot so very uncomfortable, that they hesitate for a long time ere they thrust in its fellow.

There is little doubt but that much mischief has been done by ignorant men, yet, perhaps, if the truth were known, more vital injury has been inflicted on mankind by enthusiastic science--ignorance gropes its way, so long, at least, as modesty allows to doubt; but, so soon as presumption leads the way, then ignorance assumes dogmatic assurance, and places the hardy practitioner on the same line as presumptive science--or, at least, what is considered such. It is then that enthusiasm, combined with interested motives, seeks to maintain an acquired influence by experimental proofs of supremacy; and, as it has been truly said, "There is no writ of error in the grave," mother earth shrouds the fallacies, and every disease that the eminent practitioner cannot cure is deemed incurable.

On the other hand, the Creator has gifted mankind with an innate and latent power of resisting noxious influence--a power called by the schools the vis medicatrix naturae, and which is generally sufficient to throw off morbid attacks, when this principle is not exhausted, and the functions not impeded by organic derangement which involves the healthy equilibrium of life; then it is, that the prudent and experienced physician will carefully watch this precious faculty, and instead of counteracting the efforts of nature, assist her bounteous labours. This watchful practice, which may, however, be sometimes too inert, has been called expectant medicine--a slow and tardy process for the energetic practitioner, who, assuming the reins of life in his bold hands endeavours to goad and drive on nature in spite of herself; this practice has obtained the name of active medicine, of which our British practitioners are accused, by the expectant continental physicians, who, to use a French expression, "voient venir," and the French themselves are so well aware of the imprudence of this hesitation in assisting nature, that they say "Your physicians kill their patients, whereas ours let them die." There is more truth in this remark than we perhaps are willing to believe.

The power of nature in the cure of diseases has been acknowledged by the most experienced and wise physicians. Stahl, in his dissertation, "De Medicina sine Medico," perhaps exaggerated the influence of this faculty. Bordeu maintains that out of ten patients, two-thirds are cured without assistance, and come within the circle of all those minor ailments to which flesh is the constant heir. The illustrious Boerhaave doubted whether the successful practice of the small number of able physicians was a compensation for the evils that arose from the errors of the ignorant; and, in this sad calculation, he seems disposed to think that it would have been better for mankind that the science of medicine had never existed.

All these deductions are both unjust and unwise; for, as I have already said, if physicians only possessed the means of affording relief, their mission upon earth is of the utmost importance. At the same time, while we watch the efforts of nature, it is our duty to rouse her energies when they become torpid, or to check inordinate action which would soon exhaust her power. Asclepiades very truly called the expectant practice of medicine "a contemplation of death." The powers of nature may be, and not inaptly, compared to those of the swimmer; however skilled in the art of natation, and able under ordinary circumstances to baffle an adverse tide, are we not to hasten to his succour, when we find that he is borne away by an inevitable current, or deprived by a cramp, of the power of stemming the stream?

We are also willing to forget, that the turbulence of passions, the "wear and tear" of life, by excesses or irregularities, gradually tend to render the "medicinal power" of nature of little or no avail; and it has been truly said, that had we no cooks, we perhaps might not have needed physicians. Man in fact, in a high state of civilization, seems determined to counteract all the efforts both of nature and of art to relieve him from the manifold curses of intemperance; and it is fortunate that his own feelings of gradual decay prompt him more energetically to a reform in his habits, than the most persuasive language his physician could employ.

In this illiberal view of the profession, how often do we lose sight of hereditary transmissions--heir-looms of disease--ingrafting misery on the variegated woof of our destinies--germs of fatal maladies which we bring into the world--a scourge on our posterity!--and yet, strange to say, our vain self-estimation blinds us in the contemplation of this doom--for the gratification of our desires, we bring forth a fearful generation--scrofulous, insane! Nay, we glory in the smiling offspring blooming around us--heedless, that the very roses we admire on their transparent cheeks, the coral hue that tinges their lips, are typical of flowers scattered on a grave, and the joyful beams of their bright yet languid looks are but the harbingers of the smile of death--the last kind look on earthly things.--And the physician is expected to arrest the hand of Providence--to eradicate germs struck before birth!

It must also be observed, that many of our maladies are, in fact, reactions of nature, endeavouring to overcome other affections--a struggle for harmonious unity--for healthy equilibrium. Thus do we see a burning fever, tending to cast upon the surface exanthematic eruptions--a febrile reaction which we call critical, and which too often, like a political crisis, destroys in fruitless endeavours to save. "Si natura non moveat, move, tu, motu ejus" was an ancient axiom; but how often, in seeking to trim the expiring lamp of life, do we not extinguish the last vital spark!

In regard to the influence of medicine on population, can it be expected, that when the most fatal pestilences do not thin it, the most erroneous medical practice can be more destructive? And, if nine-tenths of cholera, or pestiferated patients perish, on the other hand, nine-tenths of other cases of a less serious character are cured without medical intervention; and possibly, the chief study of a physician should be not to produce a more obstinate disease by the means he employs to cure an affection less formidable. Late years have proved that the effects of mercury were far more dreadful than the disease it was supposed to eradicate.

In the animadversions that are accumulated upon the physician, an insidious comparison to his disadvantage, has been made with the utility of the surgeon--a utility which man is compelled, however reluctantly, to acknowledge, since it is evident to his most gross senses--an amputated limb--a reduced luxation--are before his eyes, while the favourable changes operated on a morbid condition of the body are not self-evident, and can only be recognised by sound and unbiassed judgment. In this illiberal view, it is forgotten that the mere operative surgeon is nothing more than a mechanical agent--a butcher could perform the same operation with his rude knives and saws as the chirurgeon with his refined and improved instruments; it is the judgment that we look to, and the skill in attending to the general health of the patient, to bring him to a perfect cure; in these functions, of much more importance than the dexterity of the hand, the surgeon clearly assumes the duties of the physician; and it is not possible for a man to excel in one part of the profession without being conversant with the other; a surgeon must be a sound anatomist, and an observant physiologist--without the knowledge of these fundamental sciences, a surgeon and a physician might be compared to the bungler who attempted to repair a watch, without a previous acquaintance with its intricate machinery.

Let us hope that the mischievous distinction between surgery and medicine may soon become an obsolete prejudice, that was never founded upon reason, but simply based upon ambitious lucre. Let us hope that the graduate of an university will not conceive it beneath his dignity to save a fellow-creature's life by breathing a vein, and not esteem a vain and pompous piece of parchment an immunity from humane feelings and philanthropic duties.

As good often results from apparent evil, the converse must also be frequently admitted. That much evil has occurred from errors in medical doctrine is unfortunately but too true, yet this evil has never attained the extent which is generally supposed. I have already alluded to the curative powers of nature, ever tending, while still enjoying a portion even of their energies, to repel obnoxious agents--this power has saved the lives of many; and indeed, when we daily witness the excesses committed by the sensualist and the drunkard with apparent impunity, although exposed to destructive agencies more powerful than the generality of medicinal substances, we must come to the conclusion that the kitchen and the cellar are, at least, as formidable as the officinal preparations of the pharmacopolist.

That the physician, guided by experience and sound observation, is able, in very many cases to afford relief, must even be admitted by the most hostile depreciator of his science, who refuses to admit that he possesses the power of curing. This simple admission of daily facts, must entitle him to some degree of weight in our confidence, whatever may be our sceptical view of his doctrines.

While the real merits of a physician are so frequently overlooked, we constantly see a blind confidence reposed in a quack. The cause is obvious. A man of real merit seldom extols his own good qualities, nor does he seek the fulsome adulation and praise of others. He rests upon his own deserts; but how seldom are they rewarded: when modesty places her light "under a bushel" who will bring it into view?

Duclos has explained in some measure this apparent anomaly.--"The desire," he says "to obtain a high stand in the estimation of society, has given rise to reputation, celebrity, and renown,--the mainsprings of worldly action--arising from a similar principle, but showing different means and results. Both reputation and renown may be enjoyed at the same time and yet be widely different. The public is not unfrequently surprised at the reputations that it had itself created. It seeks to inquire into their origin, but not being able to discover a merit which never did exist, it gradually admires and respects a phantom of its own evocation. As society thus bestows a reputation in a capricious manner, quacks will usurp one by their intrigues or by a barefaced impudence, which cannot claim the comparatively honourable denomination of proper pride and dignity. They themselves proclaim their merit to the world--at first their impertinence becomes a subject of derision, but they repeat the assertion of their superior skill so frequently and confidently, that they end by imposing themselves upon society. People forget where, whence, and from whom they heard these flattering eulogies, to which at last they yield their credence, and an adventurer who thus resolves to establish a reputation, with perseverance and impudence seldom fails."

It must also be remembered, that most medical men owe their success to woman's all-powerful aid. They are in general as blind and as pertinacious in their partialities as in their dislikes; seldom bestowing much judgment in either, but acting according to the impulses of their warm passions and flexibility. Females, from their situation in the world, stand in constant need of a friendly adviser, although they are rarely disposed to follow any advice, if their pleasures are marred by the suggestion, but when art and opportunity enable a man to turn their flexibility, their impressionability to a good account, with the combined aid of vanity and weak nerves, he will in all probability succeed in obtaining a high estimation in the mind of a loquacious dame, who will blazon his fame far and near like the trumpeter of a mountebank. If this lady moves in an elevated and influencial sphere of life, to question her recommendation is to question her sense and power, both of which would be bold attempts; and thus have we seen an intriguing noble dame forcing a physician even upon royalty. Moreover, when we recollect that the wealthy send for a physician for every trifling real or supposed indisposition, which fashion or expediency may aggravate at will, to excite interest or carry a desirable point, it is manifest that the cures of such a practitioner must be most numerous, since the attainment of any desire constitutes a panacea; and frequently we have seen a box at the opera, a check on a banker, a new carriage, or a diamond necklace, more efficacious than the most renowned nostrum, while the expulsion of an unpleasant plain-spoken acquaintance, or the kind reception of a dangerous and treacherous inmate, may produce more sudden recoveries than the most approved specific. The great science of such practitioners is to practise with equal success upon every branch of the family, to whom in return for their confidence, they can ensure peace and pleasure if they cannot bestow health. I cannot better conclude this article than by quoting the following passage of the sceptic Voltaire:

It is true that regimen is preferable to physic. It is also true that for a long period of time, out of one hundred physicians were twenty-eight quacks, and it is also true, that Moliere had very good reason to turn them into ridicule. It is also certain that nothing can be more absurd than to behold a crowd of silly women, and men, not less feminine in their habits, whenever they are satiated with eating, drinking, gambling, and late hours, calling in a physician for every trifling headache; consulting him as though he were a divinity, and praying for the miraculous gift of combined health and intemperance. It is nevertheless true, that a good physician in a hundred cases may preserve life and limb. A man falls down in an apoplectic fit, it will neither be a captain of infantry or a privy councillor that will relieve him. A cataract obscures my vision; my neighbouring gossips will not restore my sight; for here I make no distinction between the physician and the surgeon. For a long time the two professions have been inseparable. Men who would make it their study to restore health to their fellow-creatures on the sole grounds of humanity and benevolence, should be considered greater than the greatest man upon earth, and bordering upon divine attributes, for preservation and restoration stand next in rank to creation. The Romans were for upwards of five hundred years without physicians. Their people, continually employed in killing, thought but little of the preservation of life; what did they do when they were attacked with a putrid fever, a fistula, a hernia, or a pleurisy?--They died.

MEDICINE OF THE CHINESE.

This singular people possess works on medical science which they trace as far back as three thousand years, and chiefly written by two of their emperors, Chin-nong and Hoang-ti. It has been asserted that they received the early elements of the science from the Egyptians, but it is more probable that they derived their information from their constant intercourse with the Bactrians, whose arts and sciences were flourishing at the period of Alexander's conquests, and the Chinese historians in support of this probability, state that several learned physicians came from Samarcand to establish themselves amongst them. Moreover, the doctrines of Erasistratus bear much resemblance to those of the Chinese.

The superstitious regard shown to the bodies of the departed, must naturally have materially retarded the progress of anatomical pursuits, although this people assure us that 2706 years before our era they possessed a work on this subject, entitled Nim Kin. Howbeit it seems probable, from their extreme ignorance of the structure of the human body, that this important branch of the science of medicine has remained stationary ever since the publication of the aforesaid treatise.

The Chinese physicians divide the body into a right and left portion, and three regions. The upper one, comprising the head and the chest, a middle one, extending from the lower part of the thorax to the umbilicus, and an inferior region, comprising the hypogaster and lower extremities. They admit twelve viscera as the sources of life, but they do not appear to have any distinct notion of the division, uses and conformation of the muscles, nerves, vessels, and the various tissues of the human economy. Their ignorance equally extends to the construction of animals.

They consider that man is influenced by two principles, heat and humidity, the harmony of which constitutes life, which ceases when their equilibrious state is destroyed. Vital moisture resides in the heart, lungs, liver, spleen, and kidneys, while vital heat pervades the intestines, the stomach, the pericardium, the gall-bladder and the ureters. These two principles are transmitted through the medium of the vital spirits and the blood by twelve canals, one of which carries a fecundating moisture from the head to the hands; another from the liver to the feet; a third from the kidneys to the left side of the body; and a fourth from the lungs to the right division.

In addition to these channels of vital transmission, they imagine that the state of our internal organs can be ascertained by the appearance of various parts of the head, which they consider as indicative sympathies of the action of the internal viscera. For instance, the head corresponds with the tongue, the lungs with the nostrils, the spleen with the mouth, the kidneys influence the ear, the liver acts upon the eyes, and thus they consider that they can form a correct idea of the nature of internal maladies by the complexion, the state of the eyes, the sound of the voice, the taste, and the smell of the patient.

The Chinese physiologists also consider the human body as a harmonic instrument, of which the muscles, tendons, nerves, arteries, &c. are vibrating chords, producing various sounds and modulations, and the pulse their chief guide in ascertaining the nature of disease, is but the result of a modification of these sounds as the chords are more or less extended or relaxed.

In addition to these singular views of the human economy, they imagine that the body is influenced by five elementary agents, earth, minerals, water, air, and fire.

Fire prevails in the heart and the thoracic viscera, which bear an astronomic relation with the south.

The liver and the gall-bladder are under the influence of air, which is in relation with the east, whence the winds arise, and it is towards spring that these organs are generally affected.

The kidneys and ureters are ruled by water, astronomically associated with the north--hence winter is the usual season of the maladies in these parts.

The stomach and spleen are regulated by earth, and are placed in connexion with the centre of the firmament, between the five cardinal points, and affections of these parts are observed in the third month of each quarter.

Diseases are distinguished by their vicinity to or their distance from the central part of the body, the heart and lungs, and are usually occasioned by vicissitudes in the atmospheric constitution--varying with cold, heat, and moisture.

The minuteness of their division of maladies is as great as the mechanical precision which all their labours exhibit: for instance, they admit no less than forty-two varieties of the smallpox; according to the shape, colour, situation of the pustules, which they compare to the cocoons of the silkworm--to strings of beads--chaplets of pearls--and lay equal stress on their being flat or round--black, red, or violet. This disease has, indeed, been described by them with much accuracy and judgment, as regards its benign or its confluent character; and there is no doubt that inoculation was practised among them from time immemorial, as I have already shown in the article on that head. Equally accurate have they been in detailing the various symptoms of gout, scurvy, elephantiasis, and syphilis, which also scourges the "Celestial empire."

The chief guide, however, in their diagnosis and prognosis, is the state of the pulse, and a very curious work, called "The Secrets of the Pulse," and said to have been written two centuries before our era, by Ouang-chou-ho or Vam-xo-ho. The pulse is divided into the external, the middle, and the deep--producing nine different pulsations called Heon, and the arterial beats were formerly sought for in the joint of the big toe; this custom is now abandoned, but they still follow the strange practice of taking up the right wrist in women and the left in men.

The external pulse, called Piao, is subdivided into several varieties.

1. The superficial P. in Feou, which yields to the slightest pressure.

2. The hollow P. Kong, which announces that the artery is empty when pressed upon.

3. The slippery P. Hang, which slides under the fingers, like the beads of a necklace.

4. The full P. Che, striking against the fingers with a full caliber of blood.

5. The tremulous P. Hien, vibrating like the chord of a musical instrument.

6. The intermittent P. Kin, vibrating by starts, like the instrument called Kin.

7. The regurgitating P. Hong, the strong pulsation of a full and distended vessel.

These seven characters are considered much more favourable than the eight which follow, and which, arising from a deeper action, require a more forcible pressure.

1. The deep P. Tehin, only discovered by a firm pressure.

2. The filiform P. Ouei, a threadlike pulsation.

3. The moderate P. Ouan, slow and languid.

4. The sharp P. Soe, producing the sensation of a cutting or sawing instrument.

5. The slow P. Tehis, when the pulsations follow each other with languid intervals.

6. The sinking P. Fou, when the pulse, although pressed hard, sinks under the finger.

7. The soft P. Sin, which feels like a drop of water one might press upon.

8. The weak P. Yo, which yields the sensation of feeling like a worn-out texture, and ceases to be observed when pressed upon for any time.

To these are added nine other varieties, called Tao.

1. The long P. Tehang, full, smooth--feeling like a full tube.

2. The short P. Toan, presenting a pointed surface, that seems indivisible.

3. The empty P. Hin, insensible under moderate pressure.

4. The tight P. Tsou, which the finger feels with difficulty.

5. The embarrassed P. Kie, languid and occasionally stopping.

6. The intermittent P. Tai, when several pulsations appear to be missing.

7. The slender P. Sie, so slow and weak, that it feels like a hair.

8. The moving P. Tong, that one might compare to stones under water.

9. The tense P. Ke, feeling like a distended drum-head.

But as many Chinese doctors were not satisfied with this confusion in the classification of pulses, and, like practitioners in other countries, sought to render darkness still more visible--they sought to strike out a new career by increasing the multiplication, and introduced the following addenda:

1. The strong pulse, Ta, filling the vessel, yet yielding to pressure.

2. The precipitate P. Son, in which the pulsation was rapid in succession.

3. The scattered P. San, soft, slow, and non-resisting.

4. The stray P. Li-king, strong--not pulsating three times in each inspiration.

5. The firm P. Tun, consistent and resisting.

6. The lively P. Ki, pulsation rapid in succession.

7. The skipping P. Teng, pulsation unequal, sudden, and frequent.

In this minute attention to the many variations of the pulses, the Chinese aided their study, by attending to age, sex, stature, constitution, the seasons, the passions, and the comparative state of health and disease.

In a person of high stature, the pulse was full--concentrated in diminished individuals--deep and embarrassed in fat subjects--long and superficial in the meager--soft in the phlegmatic temperament--tremulous in the lively and the active--slower in man than in woman, excepting when threatened with disease--full and firm in the adult--slow and feeble in old age--soft and vivacious in infancy.

The rhythm of the pulse was affected by the passions, though chiefly in a transient manner:--moderately slow, in joy--short, in grief--deep, under the impression of fear--precipitate and regurgitating, in anger. In the spring, they maintained that the pulsation was tremulous--replete, in summer--spare and superficial, in autumn--dry and deep, in winter. Much mysterious ceremony was observed by the Chinese physicians in this investigation; they felt the pulse with four fingers, which they alternately raised or dropped on the vessel, as if playing on a musical instrument.

In this profound study, they attributed to every disease a peculiar state of the pulse by which it could be recognised and ascertained, and at the same time it enabled them to form a favourable or unfavourable prognostic. Some of these rules are curious. If the pulses stop before fifty pulsations have been counted, disease is at hand; when an interruption in the course of the circulation takes place after forty pulsations, the patient has not more than four years to live; when an interruption takes place after the third pulsation, three or four days are the probable term of existence; but the patient may linger on for six or seven days more, when the interruption only succeeds the fourth pulsation.

Idle as these speculations may appear, it is to be feared that while the Chinese paid such minute attention to the state of the circulation, more distinguished and learned schools do not consider this powerful indication of the strength or weakness of the vital functions with sufficient care and discrimination, and perhaps a translation of the works of Ouang-chou-ho, might not be altogether useless in the present enlightened age. I have no hesitation in saying that this important investigation is sadly neglected in medical education--so much so indeed, that the different appellations given to the varied state of the pulse, are neither well defined nor generally understood. The French physician Bordeu has given much valuable information on this subject, which occupied the ancients as much as it seems to have fixed the attention of the Chinese. We find that the Indians, in the time of Alexander, accurately studied this important point.

Notwithstanding the assertion of Sprengel, Hippocrates was a most attentive observer of the state of the pulse. Thus we find him giving the name of [Greek: sphygmos] to that violent and spasmodic beating of the artery, which was not only sensible to the touch, but evident to the bystander's eye--in more than forty passages of his immortal works do we find important references to the pulse, which he also declared could enable us to detect the secret workings of the passions. Many were the ancient physicians who have minutely entered into these investigations, amongst them we may name Herophilus, Erasistratus, Zeno, Alexander Philalethes, Heraclides of Erythrae, Heraclides of Tarentum, Aristoxenes. Several of the doctrines founded on these observations were most absurd, attributing the various conditions of the circulation to the Pneuma of the heart and arteries; such were the doctrines of Asclepiades, Agathinus, Galen, and many others; and amongst the Arabians we find Thabeth Ebn Ibrahim asserting that by the state of the pulse he could ascertain what articles of food had been taken--in more modern times Baillou, Wierns, Boerhaave, Hoffmann, have sedulously applied themselves to this most essential study, and Schelhammenn asserts that the pulse never once deceived him.

The effect of our passions on the circulation is much more powerful than is generally believed, and they are a more fertile source of our maladies than is commonly apprehended. We can readily conceive why the Spartan Chilo died through excess of joy whilst embracing his victorious son.[53]

In the treatment of disease, the Chinese, so fond of classification, divide the medicinal substances they employ into heating, cooling, refreshing, and temperate; their materia medica is contained in the work called the Pen-tsaocang-mou in fifty-two large volumes, with an atlas of plates; most of our medicines are known to them and prescribed; the mineral waters, with which their country abounds, are also much resorted to; and their emperor, Kang-Hi, has given an accurate account of several thermal springs. Fire is a great agent, and the moxa recommended in almost every ailment, while acupuncture is in general use both in China and Japan; bathing and champooing are also frequently recommended, but blood-letting is seldom resorted to.

China has also her animal magnetizers, practising the Coug fou, a mysterious manipulation taught by the bonzes, in which the adepts produce violent convulsions.

The Chinese divide their prescriptions into seven categories.

1. The great prescription.

2. The little prescription.

3. The slow prescription.

4. The prompt prescription.

5. The odd prescription.

6. The even prescription.

7. The double prescription.

Each of these receipts being applied to particular cases, and the ingredients that compose them being weighed with the most scrupulous accuracy.

Medicine was taught in the imperial colleges of Pekin; but in every district, a physician, who had studied six years, is appointed to instruct the candidate for the profession, who was afterwards allowed to practise, without any further studies or examination; and it is said, that, in general, the physician only receives his fee when the patient is cured. This assertion, however, is very doubtful, as the country abounds in quacks, who, under such restrictions as to remuneration, would scarcely earn a livelihood. Another singular, but economical practice prevails amongst them--a physician never pays a second visit to a patient unless he is sent for. Whatever may be the merits of Chinese practitioners both in medicine and surgery, or their mode of receiving remuneration, it appears that they are as much subject to animadversion as in other countries:--a missionary having observed to a Chinese, that their medical men had constantly recourse to fire in the shape of moxa, redhot iron, and burning needles; he replied, "Alas! you Europeans are carved with steel, while we are martyrized with hot iron; and I fear that in neither country will the fashion subside, since the operators do not feel the anguish they inflict, and are equally paid to torment us or to cure us!"

EXPERIMENTS ON LIVING ANIMALS.

However ungrateful the discussion of this subject may be, since, in truth and justice, it must be considered with an unbiassed and unprejudiced mind, and elicit observations which may prove offensive to many, and absurd to some, it is one of such moment on the score of humanity, that I undertake the task without hesitation or reluctance.

In support of the practice it has been urged, that mankind owes the most valuable discoveries in the science of medicine and its collateral branches to the vivisection of animals; that since the brute creation was intended for the use of our species, we could not apply them to a more important and justifiable purpose, than that of endeavouring to initiate ourselves in those wonderful functions of nature, a knowledge of which would give us a clearer insight of the mysterious machinery, and thereby the better enable us to remedy their derangement when in a morbid state. It has further been maintained, that when man to indulge his capricious appetites and his various amusements, tortures every creature that can minister to his depraved fancies or his unruly pleasures--he would be more excusable, if not fully justifiable even in the eyes of the most sentient philanthropist, in submitting these creatures to smaller or greater sufferings, if mankind could be ultimately benefited by this sacrifice of feeling. What, indeed, could be our commiseration when beholding the agonies of a mangled dog or a cat, if the throes of his sufferings, and the incalculable pangs he endured, could restore a beloved child to his disconsolate parents, or a sinking father to his helpless family. Moreover, is not man, from the very nature of his social position, created to suffer more than animals, not only from the many natural diseases to which flesh is heir, but to the torturing wounds received on the field of battle--the burning fevers of distant climes--the chances of war, pestilence, and famine--all of which are aggravated by that power of judgment, that reflection and consciousness derivating from the possession of an immortal soul, which makes the future more horrible than the present, however great its miseries may be. It has also been urged, that animals in their savage state, undomesticated by the humane interference of man, inflict upon each other injuries under which they linger and die in excruciating pain; and, therefore, when we submit them to similar agonies, we only fill up the intended measure of their destined sufferings.

It is painful to assert it, but all these allegations, I consider as not only unsupported by facts and experience, but grounded on speculative sophistry; for, in regard to the injuries which animals in their wild condition may inflict upon each other, they may be the result of the wise provisions of the CREATOR, with which man, however presumptuous he be, has nothing to do, and even were it in his power to check their furious and destructive propensities, it is more than likely, from what we daily witness, that he would turn them to a profitable or a pleasurable account, as most probably, the sight of a combat between a wild elephant and a rhinoceros (provided the spectators were perfectly secure), would attract a greater multitude, and draw more money, than a dog-fight or a bull-bait--a tiger-hunt, were it not attended with some personal danger which requires courage, would prove more delectable than the pursuit of a timid hare.

But I now come to a much more important consideration--the benefit to mankind that has occurred or that may be derived from such experiments. And here I must give as my most decided opinion, that if any such beneficial results did arise from the inquiries, they were not commensurate with the barbarity of the experiments; nay, I shall endeavour to show, that they are frequently more likely to deceive us, by propping up fallacious and tottering theories, than to shed any valuable light on the subject of investigation.

I readily admit that there does exist much analogy in the structure of man and certain animals in the higher grades of the creation; that the functions of respiration, digestion, absorption, locomotion, are to a certain extent similar, and that experiments made to ascertain the mechanism of these functions (if I may so express myself), may tend, in some measure, to teach us that which the inanimate corpse of man cannot exhibit; but, admitting to the full extent of argumentation, the analogy of these functions, I do maintain that the phenomena of life differ widely between man and animals, and the very nervous influences which we seek to discover are, in life, of a nature totally different. Were it not so, would the senses of different animals, rendered more or less acute or obtuse according to their natural pursuits and protective habits, be so materially unequal? Indeed, the laws of nature that submit every creature to the immutable will of Providence are totally unlike; and each apparatus of life in divers beings seems to be especially calculated for the identical race: what is poison to the one is an aliment to another; and the vivid light which the eyes of one creature can bear, would produce blindness in another; the same effluvia which one animal would not notice, would guide another over trackless wastes in search of friend or foe. I therefore maintain, that the mere material examination of the living organs of animals can no more tend to illustrate their vital principle, than the keenest anatomical labours can enable us to attain a knowledge of the nature of our immortal and imperishable parts.

I shall enter still more minutely into this subject. In the barbarous experiments to which I allude, animals bearing the strongest resemblance to man (at least in their conformation, for Heaven, in its mercy, did not gift them with what we call mind) are usually selected amongst such as possess a heart with four cavities, and double lungs. The dog--the natural companion of man, his most faithful friend in weal and woe, the guardian of his couch and property, the protector of his infants, the only mourner o'er the pauper's grave!--dogs, are in general selected for the scientific shambles; and this for obvious reasons,--they are more easily procured, and at a cheaper rate; moreover, they are more manageable and unresisting under the mangling scalpel. Well, thousands of these creatures have been starved to death with butter, sugar, and oil, to prove that they must die in all the aggravated pangs of hunger,--pangs producing ulcerated eyes, blindness, staggers, parched up organs, unless their food contains azote. Will any one maintain, that a similar nourishment would produce similar effects on man? Certainly not. The one was created by nature to consume animal substances highly azotized; the other, from the transition of life to which he is born to be exposed, is essentially polyphagous.

Then, again, millions of animals have had their bones broken, scraped, bruised in every possible manner, to discover the process of the formation of bone, called Osteogeny: has a single fracture of a human limb been more rapidly consolidated by these experiments, which fill hundreds of pages in the works of Duhamel, Haller, Scarpa, and other physiologists? Animals will digest substances that would kill a human being--have the experiments in which their palpitating stomach and intestines have been torn from them, lacerated, pricked, cut, separated from their surrounding vessels and nerves, increased our means of relieving the dyspepsia of the sensualist, the surfeit of the glutton, or the nausea of the dissolute? On the other hand, the gin, the ardent spirits in which the drunkard wallows, would soon destroy what we think proper to call a brute!

In many animals, moreover, there is a tenacity of life--highly convenient to the physiologist, since it enables him to prolong his experimental cruelties--which man does not possess; and we find the electric fluid acting much longer upon their muscles even after death, than on a human body or its severed limbs.

Another point to be considered is the assertion of the advantages to be derived from contemplating the living viscera in a healthy state. Good God! a healthy state!--what a mockery, what a perversion of language! Behold the dog, stolen from his master--(for theft is encouraged to supply the man of science--and theft of the worst character, since it is of the most cruel nature;--our goods, our money, may be restored, replaced by industry, but what hand can restore the faithful companion of our solitude, whose looks seem to study our thoughts! left us perhaps by the lost one of our heart, symbol of that fidelity which death alone abridged!) the poor animal hungry, chained up for days and nights pining for his lost master, is led to the butchery. Still he looks up for compassion to man, his natural protector, licks the very hand that grasps him until his feeble limbs are lashed to the table! In vain he struggles--in vain he expresses his sufferings and his fears in piteous howls: a muzzle is buckled on to stifle his troublesome cries, and his concentrated groans heave his agonized breast in convulsive throes, until the scalpel is plunged in his helpless extended body! His blood flows in torrents, his very heart is exposed to the torturer's searching hand, and nerves which experience anguish from a mere breath of air, are lacerated with merciless ingenuity,--and this is a healthy state! The viscera exposed to atmospheric influence are already parched, and have lost their natural colour, and not a single function is performed in normal regularity. One only effort is natural until vital power is exhausted--a vain instinctive resistance against his butchers!--The heart sickens at such scenes, when cruelty that would bid defiance to the savage's vindictive barbarity, sacrifices thousands of harmless beings at the shrine of vanity. For let the matter not be mistaken--these experiments are mostly made to give an appearance of verisimilitude to the most absurd and visionary doctrines; and if a proof were required of this assertion, it can be easily obtained by reading the works of various physiologists at different periods, who all draw different deductions from similar facts. For when the mind labours under a certain impression, or a reputation is founded upon the support of a doctrine, these facts are distorted with Procrustean skill to suit the views of the experimentalist.

Let us, for instance, consider the subject of digestion, to ascertain the nature of which, thousands--millions of animals have been ripped up alive. This practice has been attributed to coction, to elixation, to fermentation, to putrefaction, to trituration, to maceration, to dissolution, and to many other shades and shadows of similar theories; and were additional millions of living victims sacrificed in further scientific hecatombs, posterity may deem our present vain glorious physiologists as ignorant of the matter as they might consider their numerous predecessors in the same career of groping curiosity. Has the cruel extraction of the spleen from a thousand dogs to show that they could live without that viscous, explained the nature of its functions, or enabled us more successfully to control its obstinate diseases?

We know nothing of the phenomena of life; all our functions are regulated by an allwise Power that sets at naught human presumption--and Hippocrates justly called this harmonic organization a concensus, or a circle, in which we could not discover the commencement or the end.

There does however exist one course of experiments which probably might prove beneficial to mankind. The search of antidotes to various poisons that are too frequently administered by criminal hands; but here again experiments fall short of our expectations, for these substances act differently upon different animals, and even to some the prussic acid in large doses may be given with impunity. But I affirm, and can prove it, that in ninety-nine cases out of one hundred, in which such substances are given to animals, it is not with a view to discover antidotes, but to ascertain, according to the unfortunate creature's species, size, and condition, how long he can linger under the pangs of the poison, or what is the dose sufficient to occasion death. Of what benefit can it be to humanity to know that thirty drops of hydro-cyanic acid destroys dogs and cats in the space of six, twelve, or fifteen minutes; that twenty-six drops kill a rabbit in three minutes; that one drop introduced into the bill of a sparrow deprives it of life in eleven minutes; that a duck takes fifteen drops to put an end to its convulsive struggles; and that the exposing animals to the influence of hydro-cyanic acid gas destroys them in two, four, six, eight, and ten seconds? What benefit does society reap from the knowledge that, after the most excruciating suffering, a dog died in five hours after having taken half an ounce of tobacco, and that another ill-fated canine victim in whose limbs tobacco had been introduced, died of paralysis and in horrible convulsions in about an hour? Were antidotes sought in the thousands of similar cases that I could adduce? Certainly not--the experiments merely went to ascertain the power of the drug, and the only possible good that could have resulted from the barbarous trial, was the appearance of the viscera after death; a fact that one experiment could demonstrate as well as one thousand--but which could be more effectually exhibited in human creatures who died from the effects of deleterious substances. In short, these experiments are nothing more than cold calculations on the tenacity of life in various individuals. Every one knows that arsenic and prussic acid destroy life, and surely such an assertion on the part of a lecturer to his pupils should satisfy them on this head without having recourse to illustrations of the fact. In the case of supposed poison introduced into alimentary substances, and which are given to dogs to prove the criminal act, surely chemistry is not so little advanced in its boasted progress, not to be able to afford us a test of the presence of poison, without having recourse to so savage an expedient.

Another most absurd argument has been upheld in favour of these experiments in the presence of pupils, that of hardening their feelings in the contemplation of acute sufferings. This assertion is worse than idle and absurd; many of our most able surgeons and anatomists have never practised these cruelties, and yet their nerves have not been unstrung during the most fearful operations. With hands imbrued in blood I have performed the arduous duties of my profession in fourteen battles, yet I never could witness these heartless exhibitions without disgust, and I am sorry to say contempt. I am aware that these sentiments have been called puling professions of humanity; nay, that there are men and women who would weep bitterly over the sufferings of a sick pet, while they would view accumulated human misery unmoved. These are painful anomalies arising too frequently in disappointed minds, when the cup of life has been imbittered by ingratitude, and the "milk of human kindness" curdled by deceit. These are not reasons to prevent us from censuring acts of cruelty, when they may be considered useless in a scientific point of view, and degrading to mankind in regard to private feelings. I can readily believe that the best and the most humane of men, may be induced by an ardent desire to elucidate obscure parts of physiologic inquiry, to try such experiments; but most undoubtedly--unless the object to be so attained was commensurate with the sacrifice and abnegation of humane sentiments, I should deeply lament their obduracy, and be inclined to doubt their benevolence towards their fellow-creatures.

I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polish'd manners, and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility), the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path; But he that hath humanity forewarned Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.

In fine, whenever it is not evident that such practices can benefit mankind and increase our means of reducing the sum of human misery--it is a barbarous and criminal abuse of that power which the Creator has given us over the inferior grades of animated beings; and it is deeply to be lamented that no legislative measures can be adopted to restrain it, if it cannot be altogether prohibited. At any rate, professors alone should be allowed the "indulgence," but in no instance should such pseudo-scientific practices become a public exhibition or a student's pastime. Brought up in early life, amidst all the complicated horrors of a revolution, I have been sadly convinced that the contagion of CRUELTY is much more doubtless and active than that of PESTILENCE!

THE END.

WHITING, BEAUFORT HOUSE STRAND.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] During these ten years the following works appeared:

Montesquieu--Esprit des Lois, 1748. ---- Defense de l'Esprit des Lois, 1750. Rousseau--Discours sur l'Influence des Sciences et des Lettres, 1750. ---- Discours sur l'Inegalite des Conditions, 1754. Voltaire--Essai sur les Moeurs et l'Esprit des nations, 1757. Condillac--Essai sur l'Origine des Connaissances Humaines, 1746. ---- Traite des Sensations, 1754. Helvetius--De l'Esprit, 1758.

[2] The Homo diluvii testis, the skeleton of which was described by Scheuchzer, was considered by Cuvier to have belonged to a species of Salamander.

[3] For the further illustration of this curious subject, Dr. Eliotson's valuable notes on Blumenbach may be consulted to advantage.

[4] The dream of Ertucules seems to have been connected with similar phantasies. "I dreamed, venerable sir," said he to Edebales, "that the brightness of the moon did proceed from your bosom, and thence afterwards did pass into mine: when it was thither come, there sprung up a tree from my umbilic, which overshadowed at once many nations, mountains, and valleys. From the root of this tree there issued waters sufficient to irrigate vines and gardens; and then both my dream and my sleep forsook me." Edebales after some pause thus answered: "There will be born unto you, my good friend, a son whose name shall be Osman; he shall wage many wars, and shall acquire victory and glory; and my daughter must be married to your son Osman, and she is the brightness which you saw come from my bosom into yours, and from both sprung up the tree."--Lips. Marsil.

[5] Vide the article "Enthusiasm."

[6] The choenix contained a pint.

[7] These lines afford a convincing proof of the minute attention the ancients paid to the phenomena of nature. Our poet had no doubt observed the frequent effect of the application of cold to the surface of the body producing a reaction in the circulation tending to overcome the noxious agent by a glow of heat, which in many instances of predisposition may assume a febrile character.

[8] A Treatise on Insanity.

[9] Pallido il Sol and Per quanto dolce amplasso of Hasse.

[10] Much curious matter will be found in Mr. Nathan's valuable work upon music, entitled, "Musurgia vocalis."

[11] That animals are more frequently guided by the sense of smelling than by sight, is evident in those plants that shed a cadaverous effluvia, especially the arum dracunculus and the stapelia variegata of the Cape, which attract various insects that usually deposit their eggs in a stercoraceous or corrupt nidus. Here these insects have been deceived by vision, and imagined in their illusion that they had safely lodged their progeny in carrion.

[12] According to Aelian, the presence of this fish indicated the approaching overflow of the Nile.

[13] The Irish, in their metaphorical language, give a corporeal form to foul effluvia, and one of them assured me that he had a terrier who would always cock up his tail and bark whenever he saw a stink.

[14] Diodorus, Strabo, and other ancient writers, state that the beer of the Egyptians called Zythus was scarcely inferior to wine. This beer was made with barley, to which was added the lupin, the skirret, and the root of an Assyrian plant. We find the following in Columella:

"Jam siser, Assyriaque venit quae semine radix Sectaque praebetur madido satiata lupino, Ut Pelusiaci proviset pocula zythi."

The vicinity of Pelusium was famed for this beverage and its lentils.

[15] Diemerbrook states that, in the Plague of Nimeguen all those who were taken ill about new and full moon rarely escaped.

[16] Dr. Desgenettes, physician to the French army, in order to inspire confidence among the troops, inoculated himself twice without experiencing any other consequence than a slight inflammation of the inoculated parts. Sonnini mentions a Russian surgeon, who was a prisoner in Constantinople with a number of his countrymen, and who took it into his head to inoculate his comrades, with a view of protecting them from the contagion; but, unfortunately, two hundred of them died, and, fortunately perhaps for the survivors, the operator himself died of his own treatment.

[17] On this subject see what has been already said in the preceding article of Food, its use and abuse, in Dr. Beaumont's experiments.

[18] Otway.

[19] Shaftesbury.

[20] Oil is, however, a useful application to wounds in warm climates. During the retreat of our troops after the battle of Talavera, I found the wounds of many of our men, that had not been dressed for three or four days, pullulating with maggots. This was not the case with the Spanish soldiers, who, to prevent this annoyance (which was more terrific than dangerous), had poured olive oil upon their dressings. I invariably resorted to the same practice when I subsequently had to remove the wounded in hot weather.

[21] A Hebrew proverb originating from a tradition that Abraham wore a precious stone round his neck, which preserved him from disease, and which cured sickness when looked upon. When Abraham died, God placed this stone in the sun.

[22] The ancients considered the spleen the seat of mirth, and the liver the organ of love; hence their old proverb.

[23] Cordia Sebestena; according to some, the C. Myxa L., a species of Egyptian date. It was formerly employed as a demulcent. A viscid black glue was also prepared from it, and exported in considerable quantities from Alexandria.

[24] Quod Caeretani totum orbem vano quodam ac turpi superstitionum genere ludificantes continuo peregrinantur, familia domi relicta.

[25] Patin called it l'impertinente nouveaute du siecle.

[26] The priesthood in thus stigmatizing the medical profession so soon as its practice ceased to be their exclusive privilege, displayed the same spirit of intolerance and thirst for omnipotent sway that characterized their anathemas on the drama when they no longer were the authors, actors, and managers of their own sacrilegious plays, which they called mysteries and moralities. Previously to the drama becoming the pursuit of laymen, the monkish exhibitions had been so holy, that one of the popes granted a pardon of one thousand days to every person who went to the plays performed in the Whitsun week, beginning with a piece called "The Creation," and ending the season with the performance of "The General Judgment." In these representations the performers belonged to various corporations, and acted under the direction of the clergy. "The Creation" was performed by the Drapers,--"The Deluge" by the Dyers,--"Abraham, Melchizedek, and Lot," by our friends the Barbers,--"The Purification" by the Blacksmiths,--"The Last Supper" by the Bakers,--"The Resurrection" by the Skinners,--and "The Ascension" by the Tailors.

The following curious anecdotes are recorded in the description of a mystery performed at Veximel, near Metz, by the order of Conrad Bayer, bishop of the diocese. This play was called The Passion; and it appears that by some mismanagement a priest by the name of Jean de Nicey, curate of Metrange, who played Judas, was nigh meeting with an untimely end; for his neck had slipped and tightened the noose by which he was suspended to the tree, and, had he not been cut down, he would have performed the part most effectually.

A play was acted in one of the principal cities in England by these clerical performers, representing the terrestrial Paradise, when Adam and Eve made their appearance entirely naked.

[27] Mr. J. A. St. John.

[28] As this worthy never took off his cuirass, it may be shrewdly suspected that his lashes were such as our old friend Sancho Panca inflicted on the tree.

[29] The diseases to which the blood is subject was another ground upon which the vitality of this fluid was founded. The most remarkable kind of diseased blood is that which occurs in cholera, where it is dark, nearly black, even in the arteries. The cause of this phenomenon is by no means decided. Dr. Thomson attributes it to a diseased condition of the blood, which unfits it for being duly arterialised. Dr. O'Shaughnessy denies the assertion, and proves that choleric blood can be rendered florid by the absorption of oxygen. Dr. Stevens, in his treatise on the blood, attributes this dark appearance to the contagion of the malady, which throws the fluids into a morbid state, the effect of which is the diminution of the saline matter which the healthy blood contains. He observed that in cholera-hospitals the blood of all the persons residing in them was also dark. It is, however, more than probable that this morbid condition of the blood arises from the deranged state of the circulation, and may be attributed to a disease of the solids, which must invariably affect the fluids that they propel with more or less energy, flowing in a rapid current, or in a sluggish stream.

I have fully illustrated this want of oxygen in the blood of cholera patients in a work I published in Bordeaux, in 1831, entitled Observations sur la nature et le traitement du Cholera Morbus d'Europe et d'Asie; and, from several experiments subsequently made on cholera patients, I feel convinced that the inspiration of oxygen gas will be ultimately found the most energetic and effective practice in combating this fearful disease.

By the experiments lately made by Dr. Donne of Paris, it has been found that the globules of blood, when submitted to microscopic examination, varied in magnitude according to the description of animals from which it was drawn. In certain diseases, globules of pus have also been detected in the sanguiferous stream. They were larger than those of the blood, and, instead of being defined by a marginal line, were fringed on their circumference, and their centre was striated with interwoven lines.

The same physiologist discovered animalcules in the pus of certain ulcers not dissimilar in appearance to the vibrio lineola of Mueller. Other animalcules, which he has named the tricomonas vaginalis, were also found in great number when the mucous membranes of the organ (whence the latter part of their denomination was derived) were in a state of inflammation. These animalculi could not be detected in healthy mucus. The knowledge of this influence of inflammation may lead to many important practical results.

[30] During the horrors of the French Revolution, various experiments were made by Sue and other physiologists to ascertain if the bodies of the guillotined victims possessed sensibility. No conclusion, however, could be elicited from these inquiries, which gave rise to many absurd tales, such as that the face of Charlotte Corday blushed when the executioner slapped it, as he held it out to the enraptured Parisians.

[31] Organon, xxxii.

[32] Op. cit. xxxi.

[33] Ibid. xxxiii.

[34] Op. cit. xxxviii.

[35] Organon, xl. This will be found to be the case in all diseases that are dissimilar; the stronger suspends the weaker, except in case of complication, which is a rare occurrence in acute diseases, but they never cure each other reciprocally.

[36] On Chronic Diseases. Translation of Begel, p. 107.

[37] Sir Gilbert Blane's Medical Logic.

[38] Organon, v.

[39] Ibid. vi.

[40] Sir G. Blane.

[41] The celebrated Boyle used to apply to his wrists for the same purpose, the moss that grew from a human skull.

[42] The term that designated magnetic manipulation.

[43] Since the first edition of this work was published, animal magnetism has become the subject of much controversy and animadversion in London and various parts of the empire. The utmost virulence has as usual been resorted to, not only to impugn the doctrine, but to stigmatize its supporters; while, on the other hand, the greatest ingenuity has been displayed to convince unbelievers, and to give to the many experiments practised for this purpose the semblance of undeniable facts. Baron Dupotet's labours and publications have been submitted to the test of a public investigation; while Dr. Elliotson and several other practitioners have aided the practice apparently with success. It would be foreign to the nature of this work to consider this matter more elaborately; it is now before the tribunal of public opinion, whose decision we must await.

[44] Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers, &c.

[45] That serious accidents might have resulted from the use of hellebore is most likely, since various plants resembling it have been mistaken for it; chiefly the adonis vernalis, trollius Europaeus, actaea spicata, astrantia major, veratrum album, and the aconitum neomontanum, the last of which is a most virulent poison.

[46] The advocates of fasting have calculated that in one hundred and fifty-two hermits who had lived eleven thousand five hundred and eighty-nine years, the average age was seventy three years and three months.

[47] On this very curious subject the reader may consult the various statistical works of Quetelet.

[48] It is somewhat strange, but in the mountains of the South of Spain, there does still exist a dance called los Titanos, in which the performers raise their hands in threatening attitude against the heavens!

[49] The matter of insensible perspiration is calculated at being daily equal weight to one half of the food.

[50] Madder, when given to animals tinges the surface of their bones with a red hue.

[51] The life of J. E. Jenner, M.D. &c., by John Bacon, M.D. &c.

[52] History of Egyptian Mummies, &c. &c., 1834.

[53] In a work on the "Anatomy of the Passions," which I am about publishing, I have entered most minutely into this important sympathy.

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