THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY From the collection of Julius Doerner, Chicago Purchased, 1918. econ& <£tr{tion, enlaraetf & {mpvohetf. By JAMES JOHNSON, M.D. PHYSICIAN EXTRAORDINARY TO THE KING. LONDON. S. HIGHLEY, 32, FLEET STREET. 1837 PRINTED BY F. HAYDEN, Little College Street, Westminster, & 1 3 p ^arj r PREFACE (to the first edition). The following Essay , though small in size, is the result of long experience and observation. It consists of the deductions which have been drawn from facts and reflections , rather than the processes through which these deductions had been arrived at. After all, it is but an outline of the subject, the details of which would fill many volumes. The Author will not be accused of having followed, or borrowed much from his predecessors in this walk. The various “ arts of prolonging life,” and the ponderous “ codes of health and longevity,” though read by many, have been remembered by few — and practised by still fewer. Even where the precepts have been put in execution, they have often done more harm than good. The reason is not difficult to divine. From the cradle to the grave, man is perpetually changing, both in mind and body. He is not, to-day, what he was yesterday, and will be to-morrow. Though these changes are not perceptible to the eye, at very short intervals, yet, if an individual is only seen every four or five years, the alterations will appear very remarkable. In tracing the successive phases of human existence, it was necessary to adopt some arbitrary division of time — and, after long observation and reflection, the Septennial periods appeared to the Author the most natural epochs into which the journey of life could be divided. In respect to the execution of the work, whether good or bad, the Author can safely aver that the great object aimed at, was utility. Pecuniary emolument was out of the question — the race of competition is abandoned — and the goal of ambition has dropped the mask, and assumed its real cha- racter — the scoffing terminus of man's vain hopes — the withering finger- post pointing to the tomb ! 703400 IV PREFACE. In a survey of human life, there was much temptation to moral reflec- tion, and even some excuse for metaphysical speculation. Into the latter the Author has seldom ventured, and then with great brevity. In fine, he has endeavoured to simplify the leading principles of preserving health and attaining happiness, rather than to multiply details and amplify precepts that can only be applied by each individual to himself. Suffolk Place, November, 1836. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. The favorable reception of the First Edition, published three months ago, has induced the Author to revise the work very carefully, and introduce a great deal of new matter. Four entire Sections have been added — one on Pulmonary Consumption, especially as regards pre- vention and climatorial treatment — another on Gout — a third on Memory —and a fourth on the “ Consolations of Old Age.” The Author is not without hopes that the Essay , as it now stands, will contribute some- thing to the health and happiness of society. He has gratefully to acknowledge the indulgence of the Public and the liberality of the Press, on this as well as upon many other occasions. Suffolk Place, February, 1837. CONTENTS, Preli minary Observations — D efinition of Health, l..The chief Ingredient in Happiness, 2.. Power, Riches, Fame, Beauty, &c. without Health, 3. .Religion Philosophy, Materialism, 4.. Public Health, or Hygiene, 5.. Brahmins, Jews, and Greeks, 6. . Sanitary Code of Lycurgus, 7 . . Spartan Gymnastics, 8. . Ancient Per- sian Dietetics, 8. . Pythagorean Precepts, 9.. Influence of Animal and Vegetable Food, 9. . Man omnivorous, 9. . Division of Life into Ten Septenniads, 11. FIRST SEPTENNIAD. [1 to 7 Years .] Picture of Earliest Infancy, 12.. State of the Brain and Internal Organs in early Infancy, 13. . Intellectual Operations almost null, 13.. Danger of early Mental Exertions, 13.. Physical Education of the First Septenniad, 14 — Food, 14 ..Cloathing, 15. . Calido-frigid Fortifier, 15. .Exercise, 17.. Sleep, 18.. Moral Education of the First Septenniad, 18.. Habits and Manners to be formed in this Epoch, 19. .Importance of Order, Regularity, Punctuality, 19. SECOND SEPTENNIAD. [7 to 14 Years.'] The Schoolmaster — unhappy Wight, 2 1 .. Precocious Culture of the Intellect, 2 1 . . Swords turned into Pens, 22.. Modes of Elementary Instruction, 23.. Private Tuition — Public Schools, 23 . . Disproportion between Mental and Corporeal Ex- ercise, 24. . Grand Principle of Education, 24.. Proper Premium for Mental At- tention, 24 .. Systematic Exercise, 25.. Dietetic Regimen during the Scholastic Septenniad, 26.. Modern Errors at the Home Table, 26. . Barbarous System of “ Fagging” at Schools, 27. . Contagion of Vice in Public Seminaries, 27. . Lancas- trian System of “ Mutual Destruction,” 27 . . Cardinal Objects of Education, 28. . Comparative Advantages of Learning and Science, 29. . Classics and Mathematics compared, 29. .Value of Time in the present State of the World, 29. . Remarks on Originals and Translations, 3 1 . . Education of Females, 32. .Mania for Music, 33 .. Aristocracy of the “ Factory Girls,” 34. . Misappropriation of Time, 34. THIRD SEPTENNIAD. [14 to 21 Years.] Change from the Schoolmaster to the Task-Master — from the Seminary to the Count- ing-house — from the Academy to the College, 35 . . Manifold Dangers of the Third Septenniad, 35. . Secrets of the Prison-house, 37 . . Evils of the Arts and Manufac- tures, 3 8.. Insalubrious Avocations and Professions, 39.. Wear and Tear of Uni- versity Wrangling, 40.. High Mental Cultivation of Mind injurious to the Body, 41.. Comparative Effects of Classics and Mathematics, 42.. Dawn of certain Pas- sions and Propensities, 43. . Love the Master-passion in this Septenniad, 44. . Two Cupids — one heaven-born — the other the Offspring of Nox and Erebus, 44.. Picture of a Love-sick Maiden, 45.. Marriage Maxims of Modern Life, 45.. Evil VI CONTENTS. direction of Female Education, 46. . Morbid Excitability produced by Music, 47. . Seeds of Female Diseases sown at this Period, 49. . Want of Exercise — Exposure to Night- Air, 50. . Deplorable Effects of Tight-lacing, 51 . . Effects of too-early Matri- mony, 54. FOURTH SEPTENNIAD. [21 to 28 Years.] Typical Representation of Time, 55.. Nature ever changing, never changed, 55.. Time, as estimated by different Individuals, 56. .Unjust Complaints against Time, 57. . Majority attained, and Manhood gained, 58. . False Estimates of good and bad Fortune, 58. . Remarkable Illustration — “ all for the best,” 58. . Majority of Years not Acmd of Powers, 58. . Age of 25, the Age of Maturity, 59 . . Difference between Males and Females, 59.. Fourth Septenniad the most critical for both Sexes, 60 . . Structure and Functions of the Human Frame indicative of infinite Wisdom, 60. . Sum-total of the Functions constitute Health, 61.. Sources of Pleasure and Suffering, 61.. Man apparently designed for Immortality, 62. . Immortality, in this World, would be a dreadful Curse, 63. . Acme of Physical Development at 25, not the Acm6 of Firmness and Strength, 63 .. Temperance and Exercise consoli- date the Constitution, 64. . Youth of Labour and Age of Ease, 64. . Exercise almost always in our power, 65. . Fourth Septenniad claimed by Hymen, 66. .Question of the proper Time for Marriage, 66. . Consequences of Premature Marriage in the Female, 67.. Choice of a Mate — Marriage a Lottery, 67. . Courtship a State of Warfare, 67. . Best Chance of Happiness in Matrimony, 68. . All Contrasts produce Harmony, 69. . Wisdom of Providence, 69. . PULMONARY CONSUMPTION, its Causes, Prevention, and Treatment, 70-77. FIFTH AND SIXTH SEPTENNIADS. [28 to 42 Years .] THE GOLDEN iERA. Fifth and Sixth Septenniads the double Keystone of the Arch of Human Life, 78 . . Remarks on Dr. S. Johnson’s “ Decline of Life,” 78. . Remarks on Dr. S. Smith’s “ Meridian of Life,” 78. . Life nearly stationary from 28 to 42, 79. . Equilibrium of Waste and Supply, 79. . Arguments against Materialism, 80 . . Phrenology, 81 . . Different Organs and different Functions in the Brain, 82 . . Plurality of Organs in the Brain no Argument in favour of Materialism, 81.. Material Organs not the Causes but the Instruments of the Mental Faculties, 82 .. Drawbacks on Phre- nology, 84. . Auto-phrenology, or the Study of our own Propensities, the best Study — and easiest, 84. . Difficulty and Danger of studying the Organs of our Neighbours, 84. . Insanity and Monomania best Illustrations of Phrenology, 85. . Mind acquires Strength after the Body begins to decline, 85. . Imagination strong- est in the Golden ^Era, 86. . Shakespeare — Scott — Byron, &c. as examples, 86.. Exceptions to this Rule — Milton, Johnson, &c. 86 .. Judgment stronger after the Meridian, 86.. Bacon, Newton, Locke, Linnaeus, &c. in illustration, 86.. Novum Organon, at the Age of 59, 86 . . Newton’s Vigour of Mind at 73, 87 . . Powers of Mind and Body do not appear to rise and fall, pari passu, as the Materialists main- tain, 87. . Explanation of this Difference, 87. . Practical Application, 87 a Emula- tion of Youth glides into the Ambition of Manhood, 88. . Ambition, its Rewards and Punishments, 88. . Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Sidney, Wolsey, Napoleon, 88. .Ambition, the universal Passion in Middle Age, 89.. No Organ of Ambition discovered by Phrenologists, 90. . Succession of the Passions and Propensities, 90 CONTENTS. Vll , . All Brains equally blank at Birth ; but all Brains not equal on that Account, 91.. Our Talents are hereditary — our Acquirements depend on ourselves, 91.. Examples of Emulation growing into Ambition, 91. . Napoleon, Peel, Byron, Brougham, &c. 92. .Men are not born equal, 92.. At 3 5 Love and Ambition nearly equipotent, 92. .The Seeds of many Diseases called into Activity during the Fifth and Sixth Septenniads, 93.. Modern Maladies — Dyspepsy, &c., 94.. March of Intellect and its Miseries, 94. . Torrent of Knowledge not to be stopped, 95 . . Health deteriorated, though Life be not curtailed, by the March of Improvement, 96.. Nervous Complaints, from Mental Exertion, 96 . . Action and re-action of Mind and Body, 97. . Chief Sources of Modern Disorders in the Mind, 98 .. Illustrations of Mental Depressions predisposing to Bodily Disease, 99. . Walcheren and Batavia, 99 .. Development of a grand Principle in Hygiene — A ctivity of Body as an Antidote to Depression of Mind, 100. Illustrations. — Retreat of the Ten Thou- sand Greeks, under Xenophon, 101.. Siege of Mantua, 1 03 .. Shipwreck of Capt. Byron, 103. . Retreat of Sir John Moore, 104. .Narratives of Bligh and Wilson, 104. . Retreat of the French from Moscow, 105 . . Application of this Principle of Hygiene to Private Life, 106. . Gneco-Byronian Precept — “ Keep the Body active, and the Stomach empty, 106. .Misfortunes of the Female Sex, 107. . Ingratitude to Mothers, 107. . Maternal Affection, 108. . Filial Affection, 108. . Punishments in this World, 109. .Suicide, 110.. Hope of Rewards, 112.. Zenith of the Journey of Life, 112.. Retrospection, 112.. Tree of Knowledge, 1 13. . Probable Effects of Knowledge, 1 13. .On Intellect, 116.. On Learning, 116. .On Wealth, 117.. On Rank, 118.. On Happiness, 119. . On Equalization, 120. SEVENTH SEPTENNIAD. [42 to 49 years.] Ebb-tide of. Life commences at 42, 121 . .Decadence of the Stream scarcely percep- tible, 121 .. Melancholy Monitors, 121. .The three Master-passions Equipoised, 121 Grand Climacteric of Woman, 122. . Patho-Proteian Malady — O rigin and Sources of this Multiform Disorder, 122.. Not an Entity, but a Modern Con- stitution or Disposition, 123.. Chief Source in the Brain — Chief Action on the Digestive Organs, 124. .Multitudinous Causes, 125. . Injuries offered to the Sto- mach by all Classes, 125.. Nature of the Vital Organs, 126.. Stomach Intel- lectualized, 126.. Morbid Circle of Association, 127. . Melancholy Case of Perio- dical Monomania, ending in Suicide, 128. . Fatal Effects of Ambition, 130. . Modern Habits and Pursuits, 133. . Redundant Population — Ardent Competition, 133.. “ Feast of Reason,” 135 .. Mental Intemperance, 136. . Morbid Sensibility, 137.. Central Seat of the Proteian Fiend, 138 . . Imitates various Diseases, 138 . . Parox- ysm of the Patho-Proteus, 139. . Invasion of the Intellectual Powers, 141.. Dire Effects of the Patho-Proteus on Temper, 142.. Temper not entirely under the Control of Reason, 142.. Remarks on Insanity, 142. . Hygiene, or Prevention of the Proteian Malady — T emperance and Exercise the Grand Preventives and Correctives, 144. . Baleful Effects of Sedentary Habits, 145. . Inactivity the Parent of Irritability, 146. . Incentives to Exercise, 146. .Travelling-Exercise in the Open Air, 148. .First Tour of Health (in 1823) 148.. Second Tour of Health (1829) 152 . . Remarks on the Salutary Effects of Travelling-Exercise, 154. . Narrow Escapes from Malaria and Atmospheric Vicissitudes, 155.. Third Tour of Health — T he Highlands and Hebrides, 156.. Fourth Tour of Health — H olland, Germany, Switzerland, and Italy, 157 , . Description of the Baths of Pfeffers, 158. , Tremen- Vlll CONTENTS. dous Scene over the Torrent of the Tamina, 163 . . Source of the Thermee, 164. . The Waters of Pfeiffers, 167.. Mrs. Bodington’s Description of the Pfeffers, 167.. Disorders for which the Pfeffers are recommended, 169. . Description of the Baths, 170. . Locale of the Baths, 17 1. . Stupendous Scenery in the Vicinity of the Baths, 171.. Scenic Effects among the Alps, 1 7 1 .. Cautions respecting Hot Baths in general, 172-3. . Chronic Diseases in which they are serviceable, 173. . Dyspepsy and Hypochondriasis, 175. EIGHTH SEPTENNIAD. [49 to 56 years.] Dr. Jameson on the Septennial Phases, 177. .Comparative Position of the Three Master- Passions in this Septenniad, 178. . Pleasures and Miseries of Memory, 179 ..Memory, 180-6. . Danger of Attempting to Change Habits or Avocations in this Septenniad, 186 . .Unequal Matrimonial Alliances, 187. . Melancholy Mementos in this Septenniad, 188. . Cowper’s Life, 189. .Resources of Art in counteracting Decay of Life, 189. . Tendency to Obesity in the Eighth Septenniad, 191.. Cautions necessary at this Period, 192.. Gout, its Causes, Nature, and Treatment, 192-7. NINTH SEPTENNIAD. [56 to 63 years.] [Grand Climacteric.] Reflections on the Lapse of Time in Youth and in Age, 198. . Love of Money becomes the predominant Passion, 199.. Grand Climacteric — “F ifth Age” of Shake- speare — Rationale of the Grand Climacteric, 199. . Description of the Climacteric Decline, 200. . Imitation of the Climacteric Decline in Young Females, 203. . Means of checking the Climacteric Decline, 204.. Various Terminations of the Climac- teric Disease, 205. . Remedies or Palliatives, 205.. Other Diseases of the Ninth Septenniad, 206.. Fate of Scott and Byron, 206.. Desire for Retirement at this Period of Life, 207.. Fatal Effects of too-early Retirement from Business, 207. . Remarkable Example, 208. .Retrospective and Prospective Views at 63, 210.. Religion, 211. TENTH SEPTENNIAD. [63 to 70.] Sixth Age of Skakespeare, Remarks on, 212. .Portrait of Old Age — Marlbro’ and Swift, 213.. Modern Failure of the Teeth, 214.. General Dilapidation of the whole Frame, 2 14.. Comparative Range of Sleep, 214. . Departure of some Ruling Passions, 216.. Avarice remains, Remarkable Examples, 216.. Balance of Hap- piness and Misery, 217. . Consolations of Old Age, 218. . Reveries of Senectitude, 218 . . Pleasures of Complaining, 219. . Remarkable Portrait of a Laudator Temporis Acti, 219. . Reverence of Old Age in Savage Nations and Civilized, compared, 222. . Flattering Picture of Old Age, by Dr. Jameson, 223. ULTRA-LIMITES. [70 to 0.] Shakespeare’s “ Last Scene of All,” 224. . Man still hopes for a little Protraction of Existence, 224 .. Imaginary Corruscations of Intellect at the Close of Life, 224.. The Sceptic’s Horror of Death, 225 .. Christian’s Consolation in theXast Hour — Hope Gilds the Final Scene, 226. Appendix — Mr. Coulson’s late Work 227 Criticisms on the Author's Works 230 THE ECONOMY OF HEALTH, OR THE STREAM OF HUMAN LIFE, Sfc. 8fc. 8fc. Health has been defined the natural and easy exercise of all the functions — constituting a state of actual pleasure. “ The usual, the permanent, the natural condition of each organ, and of the entire system, is pleasurable/’* This might be true, if we were in a state of nature ; but, in our present condition, there is scarcely such a thing as perfect health. It is, unfor- tunately, often a negative, rather than a positive quality — an immunity from suffering, rather than the pleasurable condition described by Dr. Smith. All must acknowledge that there is no such thing as moral perfection in this world : — neither is there physical perfection. Man brings with him the seeds of sickness as well as of death ; and, although, in their early growth, these seeds may be imperceptible, yet so many noxious agents surround us, that we rarely arrive at maturity before the foul weeds become cognizable, and disorder usurps the place of health ! I am ready to grant, with Dr. Smith, that — “ ab- stracting from the aggregate amount of pleasure (health) the aggregate amount of pain, the balance in favor of pleasure is * Dr. S. Smith’s Philosophy of Health. B 2 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. immense.” But it is to be remembered that our pleasurable or healthy moments pass with such rapid wing, that we are scarcely conscious of their existence. Not so while under pain or sickness. Then the hours drag heavily along, and the per- ception of time is only experience of suffering ! But whether a positive or a negative quality — whether a com- plete, or merely a comparative freedom from disease, is health estimated as the greatest blessing ? — is it appreciated at its real value? It would appear not to be so by the following declaration of the Poet — Oh! Happiness — our being’s end and aim. Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content, whatever thy name ! No one knew better than Pope the blessing of health — or rather the miseries of sickness ; and therefore the Bard ought to have placed Health at the head of the short category in the second line. Let that catalogue be extended to the utmost limit of the poet’s imaginings — let all its items, if possible, be brought within the grasp of some fortunate individual — yet omit health, and all the other objects of men’s wishes and hopes would prove stale, flat, and unprofitable. Strike out health from the list of regal prerogatives, and the imperial diadem proves a crown of thorns. Without health, the armorial bearings and all those glittering symbols of ancestral pride and noble birth grow insipid — nay, hateful to the eye of the possessor, as laugh- ing in mockery at human suffering, and pointing to the grave, as the only certain refuge from human woes — the only asylum which opens its gates indiscriminately to the relief of the high and the low ! Without health, riches cannot procure ease, much less happiness. It would have been a cruel dispensation of Pro- vidence, if gold had been permitted to purchase that which is the poor man’s chief wealth — and the want of which, reduces the affluent to worse than indigence ! The bed of sickness is the greatest of all levellers on this side of the grave. Can the embroidered pillow or the purple canopy still the fierce throb- NO HAPPINESS WITHOUT HEALTH. 3 bings of the fevered brain — or arrest the dire tortures of lacer- ating gout ? No verily ! But it will be said that the rich man may console himself with the reflection that he can sum- mon to his aid, when overtaken with illness, a conclave of grave, learned, and skilful physicians. True. The pauper and the peasant confide their health to the parish doctor or the village apothecary, whose remedies may be less palatable, but not less potent, than those of their prouder neighbours. At all events, they are not cursed with consultations — nor liable to have their maladies misnomered, if not mismanaged, by conflicting doc- trines and fashionable doctors. The pains of the poor man may be as strong as those of the rich ; but his sensibilities are less acute, because more accustomed to privations and hardships. He has little to lose in this world, except a load of misery. To Poverty, Death often appears as the welcome termination of a long and unsuccessful struggle against wants and woes : — - From Affluence, the grisly king demands an unconditional surrender of all the good things transmitted to him by heritage, acquired by industry, or accumulated by avarice. Can fame defy the stings of sickness ? No. The plaudits of the multitude can no more assuage the tortures of pain, than can “ flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death.” The renown of a thousand victories could not diffuse an anodyne influence over the pillow of Napoleon. The laurels of Marengo did not defend him against the skiey influence of St. Helena ! Can power, the darling object of ambitious minds, neutra- lize the stings of pain, and compensate for loss of health ? No indeed ! A motion of that magic wand, the sceptre, can cause joy or sorrow, sickness or health, in the subject : but neither the diadem nor the purple can lull the aching head, or quiet the palpitating heart of the prince. Is beauty inaccessible to sickness ? Of all the gifts which Heaven can bestow, the “ fortune of a face” is the most doubt- ful in value. It is a mark at which every malignant star directs its hostile influence — a light that leads both its bearer and fol- lowers more frequently upon rocks and quick-sands, than into 4 ECONOMY OF HEALTH, the haven of repose. Between beauty and disease there is per- petual warfare. They cannot coexist for any length of time— and the latter is sure to be the victor in a protracted contest. Can literature or science close the avenues to corporeal sufferings, or render the mind superior to the infirmities of the body? Far from it. Intellectual cultivation sows the seeds of physical deterioration — and the evils thus inflicted on the flesh, fail not to grow up, and ultimately retaliate, with interest, on the spirit. Is there, then, no condition or state, in this world, exempt from disease ? None. Are there no means of restoring lost health, or of rendering the loss compatible with happiness — or at least with contentment ? Many diseases may be prevented • — many are curable — and many may be mitigated ; — but there is only one thing, so far as I have observed, that can promise patience, resignation, and even cheerfulness under permanent or long- continued affliction, whether of body or mind— and that is RELIGION. Philosophy, which is always tinctured with natural religion, makes a noble stand, for a time, against physical as well as moral ills ; but being based on human doctrines, and supported chiefly by human pride, it often fails in protracted struggles, and lies prostrate, without resource. Materialism is in a still worse condition. When all the blandishments of life are gone — -when health has fled, and pleasure bade, of course, its last adieu, the sceptic, or rather the materialist, has nothing to hope on this side of the grave, and nothing to fear beyond that bourne. He is furnished with no arguments against self-des- truction, except a contemplation of the pain attending the act —the stain that may attach to reputation or survivors — and that horror of annihilation, corresponding with the instinctive fear of death, implanted in the breast of every living creature. These being overcome, the sceptic determines to put an end, at one and the same time, to his sufferings and to his existence. The only causes of suicide, in my opinion, are, insanity and materialism. No man of sane mind and of firm Christian be- SANITARY LAWS. 5 lief, ever yet destroyed himself. A gust of passion or a mo- mentary inebriation may occasionally lead to such attempts ; but they form no exception to the rule ; for such states are those of temporary madness. It is but right to observe that, in ninety-nine out of an hundred instances, the suicide is insane at the moment of perpetrating the horrid deed. While a ray of hope remains, the materialist clings to life — the idea of an- nihilation having terrors peculiar to itself — and being often more repugnant to the human mind than even the conviction of a future state of punishment. In fine, were there no other advantages resulting from early cultivation of religious principles, than those which relate ex- clusively to our present state of existence — namely, the acqui- sition of patience under temporary affliction, and resignation under irremediable loss of health, these advantages would be invaluable. They would be the best legacy of the parent — the best heritage of the child.* Health may be considered under two points of view — that which relates to the community, and that which respects the individual. In modern times, and especially in this country, there is little other attention paid by Government to public health, than the removal of a few nuisances, and the establish- ment of quarantines against plague, which is not likely to visit a country where it would be starved to death in a month — and against cholera, which, when inclined to visit a place, can leap over a triple cordon of Prussian bayonets, with as much ease as a wolf vaults over the palisades of a sheep-fold. It may be both curious and instructive to glance at the difference between ancient and modern legislation on the subject of public health. There can be little doubt that the minute regulations * Women, though possessed of more acute sensibilities than men, have more patience under sickness, and resignation under misfortune. They there- fore bear pain with less complaint, and sorrow with more fortitude than the stronger sex. Though much of this difference must be owing to physical temperament, yet much is also to be placed to the account of religious feel- ings, which are far stronger in the female than the male breast. — 2 d Edit . 6 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. respecting diet, ablution, &c. enforced by the Hindoos, the Egyptians, the Hebrews, and the Greeks, were directed to the preservation of health, though under the form of religious cere- monies ; the priests, who were the physicians, wisely conclud- ing that injunctions would be better obeyed, when they were affirmed to be mandates from Heaven, than if they were con- sidered as merely of human invention. Thus Brahma enjoined vegetable diet, and prohibited animal food, from an opinion that such diet was the best calculated for the inhabitants of a burn- ing climate. Though mistaken in his opinion, as to the salu- brity of exclusive vegetable food, yet the Hindoo proselyte perseveres in the supposed divine dogma to the present hour. And so with the Jews. It will hardly be contended that the prohibition of pork (the most nutritious food of man) was a command from the Almighty, for the salvation of a Hebrew’s soul. But when it is recollected that leprosy was prevalent in Judea, and that swine were believed to be very subject to that loathsome malady, the prohibition of bacon may be accounted for. The sentence of uncleanness passed by Moses on so many beasts, birds, and fishes, is inexplicable on any other suppo- sition than that it was based on some sanitary code of diet. It is possible that this restriction and uniformity of diet, so tenaciously maintained by the Israelites in all ages and coun- tries, may be one of several causes conducing to that similarity of features and constitutions presented by this remarkable people, so widely scattered over the surface of the earth. Their religious ablutions may be accounted for on the same principle — and so their laws of segregation, directed against contagion. But we shall now come to less debateable ground. It is clear that the Greeks in general, and Lycurgus in particular, consi- dered a full expansion of the corporeal organs as essential to a complete development of the mental faculties : — in other words, that strength of mind resulted from, or was # intimately associ- ated with, strength of body. The first law which Lycurgus placed on the national sanitary code, was somewhat singular, namely, the destruction of all children born with deformity or SPARTAN SANITARY LAWS. / defect of any kind ! This was a pretty effectual mode of im- proving the breed of Spartans ! It certainly was more pre - ventive of bad health, than conducive to longevity in the indi- vidual. It is manifest that Lycurgus was more solicitous to insure a race of able-bodied citizen soldiers to defend the state, than of philosophers and poets to instruct or delight mankind. It is impossible he could be ignorant that a great mind might in- habit a feeble body — and that genius and talent were not incom- patible with a crooked spine or a club-foot. Had Pope been born in Laconia, the Poet of Twickenham would never have “ lisped in numbers,” or tuned his lyre to the Rape of the Lock. Had Byron, even, been a Spartan, Child Harolde would have found a watery grave in the Eurotas, or been hurled over Mount Taygeta, and Don Juan would never have invoked the ashes of Greece from the towers of Missalounghi. The Spartan law was as impolitic as it was inhuman. Intel- lectual vigour is as necessary to a nation as physical force. Brain is at least as useful to the individual as bone or muscle. One man of talent and probity is more valuable to society than a hundred giants. The Grecian camp would rather have spared Ajax than Ulysses. Should any utilitarian law, like that of Lycurgus, be ever revived in this world, the principle of it ought to be reversed. Instead of a jury of doctors to pronounce on the physical imperfections of the body, we should have a board of phrenologists to guage the vicious propensities of the mind. In such cases, if all those whose heads presented a pre- ponderance of the mere animal over the intellectual organiza- tion, were drowned, we should then indeed be going to the root of the evil, and have a radical reform in human nature ! But passing over the barbarous ordeal in the sanitary code of Lycurgus, let us see whether the laws, or rather the customs (which are stronger) of the Spartans, furnish any useful infor- mation towards the present inquiry. During the first seven years of life, the Spartan youth, of both sexes, were left under the care of their parents, who permitted 8 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. the energies of Nature to develop the physical powers of their offspring, without any check to their exuberant and plastic elas- ticity. The propriety of the custom will be inquired into pre- sently. At the completion of the seventh year, the education, mental and corporeal, was undertaken or superintended by the State. Both sexes were subjected to a regular system or dis- cipline of bodily and intellectual culture. Their sports, their studies, their exercises, and probably their repasts, were all in public and in common. They were early and gradually ex- posed to atmospherical vicissitudes of every kind. Although moral, religious, and literary instruction formed part of this discipline and education, it is indisputable that physical per- fection was more anxiously aimed at than intellectual. The exercises of the body, in the Gymnasia, were great and prolonged, according as years advanced — while the food for the support of that body, was simple, frugal, and but little varied. Hunger was the only sauce — and muscular exertion was the sole provocative.* Such a uniform and rigid system of train- ing (in which the females, before marriage, participated) must have produced a remarkable similarity of constitution, and a considerable congeniality of sentiment. Military glory being more the object of education than literary fame, the labours of the Gymnasium (as has been observed before) preponderated exceedingly over those of the Portico. The influence of such systematic training on health, must have been astonishing — and scarcely less so on the morale than on the 'physique. Such strenuous exercise and simple food must have controlled the passions, and nurtured the virtues of man, beyond all the pre- cepts of priests or philosophers. For it is to be remembered that, however Utopian such a system might be in our days, it * According to Xenophon, the discipline of the Persian youth, in the time of Cyrus, was still more severe than that of the Lacedaemonian. Coarse bread and herbs formed the diet of advanced youth, though they were undergoing the fatigues of military exercises, while their beds were the earth, with the canopy of Heaven for their curtains. BRAHMINICAL AND PYTHAGOREAN DOCTRINES. 9 was actually reduced to practice in former ages, and its results recorded in authentic history. It developed the bodily powers to the utmost — it nearly annihilated all other kinds of disease than that of death, the inevitable lot of mankind. Even in our own times, this rigid regimen and discipline have been success- fully adopted by individuals, from various motives. With all these advantages, it may be asked how and why did these people degenerate ? Alas ! there is a principle of decay in nations as well as individuals. It is also to be borne in mind, that the ancients had no true religion to check the vices of human nature, and guide the principles which lead to happiness and prosperity. It is curious, however, that all those states where paganism or idolatry prevailed, have crumbled into dust, or are tottering on the verge of ruin ; while no Christian nation has yet degenerated into barbarism or lapsed into ignorance, since the dark ages. Even Italy, where the worst forms of government are united with the least pure forms of Christianity, is not an exception. Even there, science, literature, art, and even morality are steadily, though slowly advancing. Before quitting the subject of public hygiene, it may be pro- per to glance at the precepts of Pythagoras and his disciples. These precepts or doctrines appear to have been founded partly on religious, partly on moral, and partly on sanitary principles. The constant conversion of every kind of matter from one form into others — of man into earth, of earth into vegetables, and of vegetables into animated beings, coupled with the belief that the souls of men migrated into the bodies of animals, may have generated scruples in the minds of the Brahminical and Pytha- gorean philosophers, as to the propriety of eating any thing that had life, though a deeper philosophy would have taught them that the same objection lay against vegetable food. But it is probable that Pythagoras was swayed more by philanthropic than by theological principles in his doctrines. He may have thought, and not without reason, that those who slaughtered and fed on the flesh of animals, would acquire a callosity or insensibility to the shedding of human blood . That this wap c 10 ECONOMY" OF HEALTH. the view of Pythagoras, has been maintained by a modern phi- losopher and physician of supereminent talents. Hence drew th’ enlightened Sage, the moral plan. That Man should ever be the friend of Man — Should view with tenderness all living forms. His brother-emmets and his sister-worms. Will those who are best versed in a knowledge of mankind, and who have best observed the influence of habits, regimen, and other external agents on the human race, deny that there is any truth in the doctrines of Pythagoras ? For my own part, I had rather trust my life to the tender mercies of the shepherd who tends his flocks on the wild mountain’s side, than to the butcher who slays those flocks in his shambles, and inhales, from morn till night, the reeking odour of animal gore. Are not the Hindoos, whose food is almost exclusively vegetable, less implacable, ferocious, and passionate, than the carnivorous nations ? Does not a survey of the animal kingdom bring us to the same conclusion ? The carnivore are much more fierce, rapacious, and cruel in their nature, than the herbjvor;e. Compare the horse with the tiger — the dove with the vulture — the fawn with the leopard. The Pythagorean doctrines, however, were very erroneous in a sanitary point of view. Man was decidedly designed to eat both animal and vegetable food — and the Hindoos do not attain longer life than other people under similar circum- stances as to climate. They are not so strong as the Maho- metans of the same country, who eat animal food. But, al- though Brahma and Pythagoras greatly overrated the salutary influence of their dietetic systems on health, they were not totally in error. There are many disorders which do not materially curtail the usual range of existence, but yet disturb many of its enjoyments. Such disorders are often dependent on the quantity of animal food consumed by Europeans, and especially by Englishmen. There are systems of diet, on the other hand, which do not, perhaps, conduce to longevity, or to robust health, but which render the stream of time much more LIFE DIVIDED INTO TEN SEPTENNIADS. 11 placid^ and life itself less dolorous than they otherwise would be. Such, for instance, is the slender and unirritating food of the Hindoo. The foregoing observations are sufficient to shew that, in ancient times, public hygiene or the health of the community, was often made the subject of religious, legislative, or philoso- phical enactments, from each of which some useful hints may be obtained. In our times, all is changed. Every individual now legislates for himself, in respect to his health, or intrusts it, when impaired, to the care of the physician. But, since legis- lators, divines, and philosophers have ceased to impose their sanitary regulations on the people, many hundred volumes have been written on health and longevity. Almost the only one, and perhaps the best, which is consulted in England, is the voluminous compilation of our countryman, Sir John Sin- clair, who was not a physician. He, like his predecessors, has fallen into the error of giving us a multiplicity of details, with a paucity of principles : — the former , too often inapplicable or impracticable — the latter , very generally unintelligible or erro- neous. The plans or arrangements of authors, on this subject, have been innumerable. Neither these nor the materials of their tomes shall I copy ; but draw on the resources of my own ob- servation and reflection for whatever I adduce in this Essay. I shall divide the life of man — brief as it is found in final retrospect, but interminable as it appears in early perspective — into ten epochs or periods, of seven years each, which, though blending and amalgamating at their junctions, are yet clearly marked by distinctive characteristics in their several phases. Simple and isolated as the subject of health may seem, in these ten Septenniads, it will probably be found to touch, if not embrace “ Quicquid agunt Homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas/’ many — perhaps most of those actions, passions, enjoyments, and sufferings that constitute the drama of human life ! 12 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. FIRST SEPTENNIAD. [1 to 7 years *~] For some time after man’s entrance into the world, his exist- ence is merely animal, or physical. He cries, feeds, and sleeps. His intellectual functions are nearly null; while those of the little bodily fabric are in a state of the most intense activity. Gradually the senses awake, and the avenues of communication between the surrounding world and the living microcosm, are opened. External impressions are conveyed to the sensorium or organ of the mind, and there produce sensations, which be- come progressively more distinct, and, by frequent reiteration, lay the foundation of memory and association. During the first septenary period, reflection can hardly be said to take place. Nature is busily employed in building up the corporeal structure — and the mind is occupied, almost exclusively, in storing up those materials for future thought, which the vivid senses are incessantly pouring in on the sensory of the soul. These few facts (and they might be multiplied to any extent) may furnish important hints to the parent, the pedagogue, and the philanthropist. It is during the first and second Septen- niads, that the foundations of health and happiness, of physical force, intellectual acquirements, and moral rectitude, are all laid ! Yet the arch-enemy of mankind would have found it difficult to devise a system or code of education for body and mind, better calculated to mar each and every of the above objects, than that which is adopted by the wise men of the earth at this moment. The first and second Septenniads are probably the most impor- tant to the interests of the individual and of society, of the whole ten. It is while the wax is ductile that the model is easily formed. In the early part of childhood, and even of youth, * The latter year in each Septenniacl is always included and considered as completed. EDUCATION DURING THE FIRST SEPTENNIAD. 13 every fibre is so redolent — so exuberant of vitality, that rest is pain, and motion is pleasure. In infancy the organ of the mind presides over, and furnishes energy to, every other organ and function in the body. At this period, be it remembered, these organs and functions are in the greatest degree of growth and activity; and therefore the brain (or organ of the mind) requires to be at liberty to direct its undivided influence to their support. • If it were possible to bring intellectual operations into play, in the mind of the infant, the brain could not supply the proper nervous power for digestion, assimilation, and nutri- tion ; and the whole machine would languish or decay. Now these facts apply, more or less, to a great part of the first Sep- tenniad — or even of the second — and here we have the true physiological cause and explanation of the havoc which is pro- duced in youthful frames by premature exertion of the intellec- tual faculties ! Nor is it the body exclusively that suffers from precocious culture of the mind. The material tenement of the soul cannot be shattered without injury to its spiritual tenant. It may be true, in some figurative sense, that “ The soul’s dark cottage, batter’d and decay’d. Admits new lights through chinks which time has made.” This can only refer to the common wear and tear of body, and the lights of age and experience — but, even in this point of view, I doubt the dogma of the bard, and apprehend that the said lights would shine full as well through the proper windows of the “ soul’s dark cottage,” as through those cracks and rents that are effected by time and infirmity. I have alluded to the Spartan custom of leaving the youth, during the first seven years, under the guidance of the parents, who permitted the physical powers of their offspring to develop themselves without control. What is the case with us ? Dur- ing a considerable portion of that period the youth is “ got out of the way,” and imprisoned in a scholastic hot-bed or nursery, where the “ young ideas,” instead of being left to shoot out slowly, are forced out rapidly, to the great detriment of the in- 14 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. tellectual soil, thus exhausted by too early and too frequent crops. It has been shewn that the organ of the mind, in the first stages of our existence, is exclusively occupied with its animal functions. It soon, however, is able to allot a portion of its power to the operations of the immaterial tenant. If this power were more gradually and gently exercised than it now is, we would have stronger frames and sounder minds. We might unite, in a considerable degree, the strength of the savage with the wisdom of the sage. As education, in this, as well as in the two succeeding Septenniads, is both physical and moral, we shall adopt this division of the subject. PHYSICAL EDUCATION OF THE FIRST SEPTENNIAD. 1. Food. — It is fortunate for man that nature furnishes him with sustenance during the first nine months of his existence. The milk of a healthy nurse is a more salutary and scientific compound of animal and vegetable nutriment than he ever after- wards imbibes. He has hardly left his mother’s bosom, how- ever, before the work of mischief commences, and which seldom ceases till he approaches second childhood, or has suffered se- verely by the imprudence of his parents and the early indulgence of his own appetites ! Nature furnishes teeth, as solid food becomes necessary ; and the transition from milk to meat should not be too abrupt. The teeth are protruded slowly and succes- sively; and, during this period, milk and farinaceous food should predominate over that which is purely animal. But errors of diet, in the first Septenniad, do not consist so much in the quantity of food, as in the provocative variety with which the infantile and unsophisticated palate is daily stimu- lated. The rapid growth of infancy requires an abundant sup- ply of plain nutritious aliment ; but it is at this early period, that simplicity in kind, and regularity in the periods of meals, would establish the foundation for order and punctuality in many other things, and thus conduce to health and happiness through life. PHYSICAL EDUCATION CLOATHING. 15 As the first nutriment which Nature furnishes, is a compound of animal and vegetable matters, so should it be for ever after- wards. In youth, and especially during the first Septenniad, milk and farinaceous substances should form the major part of the diet, with tender animal food once a-day. As the teeth multiply, the proportions of the two kinds of sustenance ought gradually and progressively to vary. 2. Cloathing. — Because we come naked into the world, it does not follow that we should remain so. Nature supplies animals with coats, because the parents of animals have no manufactories of linen and woollen. The dress with which Nature cloathes the young animal is nearly uniform over the whole body ; but not so that which man, or rather woman con- structs for the infant. Some parts are covered five-fold — some left naked. In many of the most civilized countries of the world, the child is placed in “ durance vile” — in bondage — or at least in bandage, the moment it sees the light ! This prac- tice, which commences in ignorance, is continued by fashion, till it ends in disease, and entails misery and sufferings on the individual and the offspring, from generation to generation. But more of this hereafter. If many of our disorders are produced through the agency of improper food or deleterious substances on the internal organs, so a great number of maladies are induced through the medium of atmospheric impressions and vicissitudes on the external sur- face of the body. These cannot be counteracted or rendered harmless by either very warm or very light cloathing. The great antidote to alternations of climate, consists in early and habitual exposure to transitions of temperature, drought, humi- dity, &c. This may be safely effected at all periods of life, from infancy to old age; and the practice, which is both easy and pleasant in operation, would save, annually, an immense waste of life, and a prodigious amount of sufferings in this country. It is simply the alternate application of warm and cold water (by immersion or sponging) — during the first year, 16 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. or two, to the whole body — and afterwards, to the face, neck, and upper parts of the chest, every morning. The application of cold water alone, will not be sufficient. There must be the sudden and rapid succession of heat and cold — which I would term the calido-frigid fortifier, or preservative. This process not only imitates and obviates the atmospheric vicissi- tudes of our own climate ; but is, in itself, salutary in any cli- mate. The hot water excites the surface to which it is applied, and fills the capillary vessels with blood. The cold water braces the vessels thus distended, without repelling the fluid too forcibly towards the interior, or producing a chill — since the heat and excitement of the surface secure us against a sud- den retrocession. It may be asked “ how does this protect us from the intro- duction of cold air into the lungs ?” I answer, that Nature provides against this daily and hourly contingency. The tem- perature of the atmospheric air is brought to a par with that of the body, while passing down through the air-tubes, and before it reaches the air-cells of the lungs. For one cold that is caught by inhaling cold air, one hundred colds are induced by the agency of cold and moisture on the surface of the body. The calido-frigid lavation or sponging, above-mentioned, secures us effectually from face-aches, ear-aches, tooth-aches,* and head-aches ; besides rendering us insusceptible of colds, coughs — and in no small number of instances — of consump- tion itself. The practice is common in Russia and some other countries ; and the principle is well understood by the profes- sion in all countries ; but the adoption of the practice is exceed- ingly limited in these Islands, where it would prove extremely salutary. Excepting in infancy, there is no occasion for the calido-frigid application to the whole body , by means of im- mersion or sponging : — at all periods of life afterwards, the mere * The mouth should be rinsed with hot water and then immediately with cold, every morning throughout the year. If this were regularly done from infancy, the dentist might shut up shop. EXERCISE. 17 sponging of the upper parts of the body, already mentioned (to which I would add, the feet), first with hot, and then immedi- ately with cold water, will be quite sufficient to prevent a mul- titude of ills, a host of infirmities — and, let me add, a number of deformities, to which flesh is heir, without this precaution. As to cloathing, during the first Septenniad, I shall say little more than that it should be warm, light, and loose. It will be time enough — alas ! too soon — to imitate the Egyptian mummy, when girls become belles, and boys beaux. I beg, for the first and second Septenniads at least, full liberty for the lungs to take air, the stomach food, and the limbs exercise, before they are cribb’d, cabin’d, and confin’d” by those destructive operatives, the milliner, the tailor, and the boot-maker, cum multis aliis , who rank high among the purveyors or jackals to the doctor and the undertaker ! Much stress has been laid upon the use of flannel in all peri- ods of our life. If the preservative against vicissitudes of cli- mate, to which I have alluded, be employed, flannel will seldom be necessary, except where the constitution is very infirm, or the disposition to glandular affections prominent. At all events, it should be very light, and w r orn outside of the linen, in this tender age. 3. Exercise. — During the first Septenniad, exercise may be left almost entirely to the impulses of Nature. The great mo- dern error is the prevention of bodily exercise by too early and prolonged culture of the mind. In the first years of life, exer- cise should be play, and play should be exercise. Towards the end of the first Septenniad, some degree of order or method may be introduced into playful exercise, because it will be es- sential to health in the second and third epochs. Even in this first epoch, exercise in the open air should be enjoined, as much as the season and other circumstances will permit. The win- dows of the nursery ought to be open during the greater part of the day, and the nursery-maids and mistresses, who cannot bear the air, are very unfit for the physical education of children. D 18 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. 4. Sleep. — In early infancy, the child, if well, only wakes to suck, and then falls asleep again. Nutrition, at that period, seems to be the sole end and object of Nature — and this object is best attained during sleep. In that state, the whole powers of the constitution, and more especially of the digestive organs, are concentrated on the process of converting the milk of the nurse into the flesh and blood of the child. Throughout all periods of life afterwards, it is found that rest at least, if not sleep, promotes digestion — and that corporeal or mental exer- tion disturbs or retards that important process. The sleep of infants is greatly interrupted by irritation in the stomach and bowels from improper food of the nurse. Hence the artificial modes of inducing sleep by the motion of the cradle — the music of the mother’s voice — or the reprehensible practice of exhibit- ing soothing medicines. A child never cries but from pain, and, in nine cases out of ten, this pain results from indiscretions of diet on the part of the mother or wet-nurse. The instances are very few indeed where opiates of any kind can be safely given to children during the first Septenniad. The syrups, paregorics, and carminatives, so often and so rashly adminis- tered to infants, are little less than poisons in disguise. As acidities in the first passages are the most common causes of pain and sleeplessness in children, so a little magnesia or soda will often sooth and lull to repose when opiates would increase the irritation. This applies indeed to many periods of riper years. Twenty grains of soda going to bed will often procure tranquil sleep, and ward off the nightmare. MORAL education of the first septenniad. The first seven years of life must not be given up entirely to the physical development of the constitution ; though that is a most important part of the parent’s duty. A great deal of moral culture may be effected in this period : but I apprehend that it ought to be very different in kind, in mode, and in degree, from MORAL EDUCATION. 19 what it is at present. During several years of this first Septen- nial the children of the lower, and even of the middle classes are cooped up in a crowded and unwholesome school-room, for many hours in the day, to the great detriment of their health and morals, and with very little benefit to their intellectual faculties. Among the higher classes, it is not so bad ; yet there, the children are too much drilled by tutor or governess, and by far too little exercised in body. The principle which I advocate is this : that, during the first, and even during the second Septenniad, the amount of elemen- tary learning required should be less, and the daily periods of study shorter : — that sport and exercise should be the regular and unfailing premium o n prompt and punctual acquisition of the lessons prescribed — in short, that elementary education should be acquired “ cito, tute, ac jucund6” — instead of being a wearisome task, irksome to the mind, and injurious to the body. But if I declare myself adverse to the system of precocious exercise of the intellect, I am an advocate for early moral cul- ture of the mind. It is during the first years of our existence, that the foundation of habits and manners is laid ; and these will be good or bad, afterwards, according to their foundations. Order is truly said to be “ Heaven’s first law” — and so it should be the first injunction on childhood. The brightest talents are often rendered useless by the want of order and sys- tem in our amusements, studies, and avocations. The best temper or the purest intention will not compensate for want of regularity, industry, and punctuality. Habit is the result of impression , rather than of reflection ; and youth is the age for receiving impressions rather than for exercising the judgment. Order may be instilled into the juvenile mind long before that mind is capable of perceiving the utility of the discipline ; in the same way that the rules of grammar are learnt before the application of these rules can be even imagined by the pupil. From long study, and, perhaps, a considerable knowledge of human nature, I most earnestly exhort parents, guardians, and 20 ECONOMY OF HEALTH, tutors, to enforce, with all their energy, the most rigid system of order, regularity, and punctuality, from the very ear- liest period of infancy up to the age of discretion. Half, and more than half of our miseries, crimes, and misfortunes, in after life, are attributable to the misplaced indulgence, or culpable negligence of our parents. “ Spare the rod and spoil the child,’ ’ is a maxim that was founded in experience, though it has been nearly exploded by speculative philanthropists not deeply versed in the knowledge of man. The rod, in most cases, may be spared ; but, if order and obedience cannot be enforced by other means, the rod should be applied. The whole material world, and, as far as we can judge, the whole universe, is subjected to, and governed by, certain laws of periodicity, which preserve order and harmony everywhere. Our mental and corporeal constitutions are controlled by simi- lar laws of periodicity, and we should subject all our actions, passions, pleasures, and labours to laws, in imitation of those which Nature has established. Thus, in infancy and youth, the sleep, exercise, play, meals — every thing, in short, which is done, should be done at regular and stated periods, and the habit of regularity, thus early established, would become a second nature, and prove a real blessing through life. There is not a single office, profession, or avocation, from the high duties of the Monarch down to the vile drudgery of the dustman, that does not owe half its honours, respectability, and success to punctuality. TH E SCHOOL M A ST JO It . 21 SECOND SEPTENNIAD, [7 to 14 years.] “ Creeping, like snail, unwillingly to school.” The Second (too oft the first) Septenniad introduces us to one of the most important personages in this world — a personage* whose image is never effaced from our memory, to the latest day of our existence ! Who has ever forgotten that happy or unhappy epoch of our lives, and that stern arbiter of our fate, when we were wont — to trace The day’s disaster in his morning face ? After the lapse of half a century, the lineaments of his counte- nance are as fresh on the tablet of my memory, as on the first day of their impression. These reminiscences are not unaccom- panied by some compunctions of conscience. The personage in question, is one who is more sinned against than sinning.’ ' * His office can only be envied by that public functionary who executes the last and most painful sentence of the law — or per- haps by the victim, who ascends the scaffold without hope of reprieve ! He who cultivates the soil under his foot, has gene- rally a fair recompence for his labour — and, at all events, he is not upbraided for the failure of his harvests. But he who cul- tivates the brains of pupils, whether male or female, has often a most ungrateful task to perform. To hope for a good crop of science or literature from some intellects, is about the same, as to expect olives to thrive on the craggy summit of Ben Nevis, or the pine- apple to expand amid the Glaciers of Grindenwalde. Yet, from these steril regions of mind, the hapless pedagogue is expected by parents to turn out Miltons, Lockes, and Newtons, with as much facility as a gardener raises brocoli or cauliflowers from the rich alluvial grounds about Fulham ! It is in vain for poor Syntax to urge in excuse, that 22 ECONOMY OF II ft ALT II . " Non ex aliquovis ligno fit Mercurius.” This is only adding insult to injury, in the eyes of the parents, who consider that any hint of imperfection in the offspring, is, by inuendo, a reproach cast on themselves. Under such cir- cumstances, it is not much to be wondered at, if the preceptor, thus compelled “ To force a churlish soil for scanty bread,” should sometimes become a little severe and morose himself. Be this as it may, I believe that few of our youth (of either sex^, who evinced talent or assiduity in their juvenile studies, have much reason to associate the memory of the school- master. with feelings of resentment or reproach. It is in this Septenniad, which may be stiled, par excellence , the scholastic, that the seeds of much bodily ill and moral evil are sown. In this, and often in the latter part of the first Sep- tenniad, the powers of the mind are forced, and those of the body are crippled. The progress of civilization, literature, sci- ence, and refinement, has rendered this state of things unavoid- able. It may be mitigated, but it cannot be prevented. Know- ledge is power. Bodily strength is now of little use in the struggle for power, riches, or fame : — mental endowments and acquirements are all in all. Togae cedant Anna ! The soldier of a hundred battles, and as many victories, doffs the glittering helmet and nodding plume, to assume the scholar’s cap and golden tassel. He throws' aside the baton, and takes up the pen. Instead of the short, and spirit-stirring address to his compact cohorts on the carnage-covered field, he harangues whole comitia of learned doctors and grave divines, in the ac- cents, and even in the language of Cicero ! If this be not the u march of intellect,” from bannered tents to academic bowers, I know not what is. It is a striking illustration and proof that the star of the morale is in the ascendant over that of th z phy- sique — that mind transcends matter — and that genius is superior to strength. But this docs not prove that we arc steering quite free from SCHOOLS. 23 error, in cultivating the mind at the expense of the body. It is the duty of the medical philosopher, therefore, who has the best means of ascertaining the effects of excessive education, to point out the evil, and, if possible, to suggest the remedy. It will not be necessary to advert to more than the three principal modes of elementary instruction, viz. private tuition — public day-schools — and boarding-schools or seminaries. If we were to look merely to the health of the body , I should prefer the domestic tutor; but, all things considered, the second mode, or middle course — a public day-school (as the Westminster, London Universit}^, King’s College, &c. &c.) is the best — veri- fying the old maxim, “ in medio tutissimus ibis.” The first mode is the most expensive — the second is the most beneficial, and the third is the most convenient. The private or domestic tuition is best calculated for the nobility, and higher grades of the aristocracy, among some of whom there seems to prevail, whether for good or evil, an idea that there are two species in the human race, between which there should be as little inter- course as possible. The second mode of education (the public day-school) is best adapted for all those who are to depend on their intellects through life — namely, the whole of the learned and scientific professions — more especially divinity, law, and physic. Those who are likely to mix much with their fellow-creatures during their sojourn in this world, had better begin to do so in a public school. Knives are sharpened by being rubbed against each other : — so are intellects. The flint and the steel will not emit sparks unless they come into collision : — neither will brains. The coldest marble and the basest metal will glow with heat by friction ; and the solid oak w r ill burst into flame by the same operation. The emulation of a public school will call energies into action, that would otherwise lie for ever dormant in the hu- man mind. To the boarding-school there are objections, more or less cogent, according to the extent of the establishment, and the degree of wisdom with which it is conducted. It cannot afford ECONOMY OF HEALTH. 24 such a field for competition as a public school ; and the youth is not under the parental roof and eye during extra-scholastic hours. But as boarding-schools must ever be the seminaries of education for nine-tenths of the better classes of society, it is of the utmost consequence that the conductors of such institutions should have enlightened views on the subject of education, both as respects the morale and the physique — the health and the happiness of the pupil. Whether the scholastic institution be large or small, public or private, one radical evil is sure to pervade the system of edu- cation pursued therein — namely (and I cannot repeat it too of- ten), the disproportion between exercise of the mind and exer- cise of the body — not merely as respects the sum total of each species of exercise, but the mode of its distribution. The grasp at learning is preternatural, over-reaching, and exhausting. It is engendered and sustained by the diffusion of knowledge, the density of population, and the difficulty of providing for families. Our ambition to become great is perpetually increasing with the augmentation of knowledge, while our means of gratifying that ambition are constantly diminishing. If this be true, and I believe it cannot be controverted, we are evidently in a fair way to illustrate the picture drawn by the Roman poet, some twenty centuries ago : — hie vivimus ambitiosa Paupertate omnes. But to return to the school. The lessons imposed on youth are too long ; and so, of course, are the periods of study. The consequence is, that the lesson is not got well, because it is learnt amid languor and fatigue of the intellect. The grand principle of education is, or rather ought to be, the rapid and the perfect acquisition of small portions of learning at a time, the punctual premium being the interval of play. In this way, the idea of knowledge would be constantly associated with that of pleasure; and each impression on the juvenile mind being vivid and dis • tinet, would consequently be lasting. But if the periods of study in the first years of the second SCHOOLS. 25 Septenniad were reduced in length, as well as in the whole daily amount, I am far from thinking that the sum total of elementary learning acquired during the scholastic Septenniad, would be thereby diminished. What is lost in letters will be gained in health ; and this profitable exchange may enable the youth to sustain those increased exertions of the intellect which devolve on ulterior stages of scholastic and collegiate discipline. It is to be remembered, also, that the great majority of pupils are designed for other than the learned professions ; and to them a modicum of health is often of more value than a mag- num of literature. But, while I advocate more frequent intervals of relaxation from study, I would suggest to the directors of schools a greater attention to systematic exercises. The severe and athletic gym- nastics introduced some years ago by Volker, with all the en- thusiasm of a German, were better adapted to the Spartan youth, whose progenitors, male and female, had been trained in like manner, than to the pallid sons of pampered cits, the dandies of the desk, and the squalid tenants of attics and factories. It was like putting the club of Hercules into the hands of a tailor, and sending slender snip to combat lions in the Nemsean forest — or giving the bow of Ulysses to be bent by the flaccid mus- cles of the effeminate man -milliner. This ultra-gymnastic en- thusiast did some injury to an important branch of hygiene, by carrying it to excess, and consequently by causing its desuetude. Every salutary measure that was ever proposed, has been abused; but this forms no just grounds against its use . No school should be without a play-ground; and no play-ground without a gym- nasium of some kind, for the lighter modes of athletic exercise. The swinging-apparatus, at the Military Asylum, in Chelsea, seems well calculated for effecting that combination of active and passive exercise, so peculiarly adapted to the human frame in the present state of civilization and refinement. We have more mind and less muscle than the Lacedaemonians ; and, therefore, art must accomplish what strength fails to do. It is in a more advanced period of life, that exercise is to be E 26 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. preferred to active; in the second Septenniad, the latter should have the preponderance. In all gymnastic exercises, however, great regard should be paid to the constitutions of individuals. There are some youths, where a disposition to affections of the heart and great vessels prevails ; and to these all strong exercise is injurious. Those, also, who are predisposed to pulmonary complaints, must be cautious of athletic exercise. The profes- sional attendant of the family or school should examine into this point. On the subject of dietetic fare during the scholastic Septen- niad, little need be said. It should be simple and substantial, rather than abstemious. The fabric that is daily building up, should have an ample supply of sound materials. These mate- rials might, with advantage, be more varied in kind than they are in most seminaries of education. Although game seldom smokes on the table of a boarding-school, yet “toujocjrs per- drix” is an established canon of the kitchen. In respect to the beverage of youth, during the first and se- cond Septenniads, a great error has been committed by modern mothers, in substituting for the salutary prescription of Pindar ( u water is best”) the daily glass of wine, with cake or condi- ment, for the smiling progeny round the table after dinner. The juvenile heart dances joyously enough to the music of the animal spirits — and the rosy current of the circulation runs its merry rounds sufficiently rapid, without impetus from wine. The practice in question is reprehensible on more accounts than one. It early establishes the habit of pampering the appetite — a habit that leads to countless ills in after-life. It over-stimu- lates the organs of digestion, at a period when their nerves are supersensitive — their excitabilities exuberant — and their sym- pathies most active and multiplied. If such be the case in youth, can we wonder at the universality of dyspeptic com- plaints in middle-age ? It is to be remarked, that this practice is less prevalent among the highest ranks of life, than among the various subordinate grades. It increases as w r e descend, till we shudder at the sight of liquid fire, exhibited to the sickly FOOD AND BEVERAGE. 27 infant in the sordid hovel ! On such a subject need I say more? or could I say less ? Bad habits are early enough learnt — they ought never to be taught ! In the second Septenniad, the schoolmaster should pursue the path which the parent had trodden ; and enforce, with the ut- most rigour, a system of order, regularity, and punctuality, in every thing which the pupil does. It is in this epoch, as in the previous one, that the passions of youth should be controlled — even by punishments, if necessary. If the Boy is taught, in early life, to respect the feelings, the comforts, and the happi- ness of his playmates and schoolfellows, the Man will after- wards obey the laws of God and his country in society at large. The tyranny which the strong often exercise over the weak in schools, and the annoyances which the vicious occasion to the well-disposed youth, ought to be punished with ten times more severity than neglect of study. The degrading and barbarous system of “ fagging,” so long prevalent in the Westminster and other schools, would disgrace a horde of Hottentots, or a colony of Siberians. It is a system which often breaks the spirit, and even the health, of many a generous mind ; while it fosters those innate propensities to selfishness, arrogance, and cruelty, which require the rein rather than the spur at every period of life. It is to be apprehended that the fear of offend- ing parents, and other motives not the most disinterested, have prevented the expulsion from some private schools of turbulent spirits, or the correction of their vicious habits. Vice is a contagion of the most terrible virulence. It spreads with the rapidity of lightning — and every tainted individual be- comes a new focus, both for the concentration and the diffusion of the poison ! It is a melancholy truth, that, in exact pro- portion as human beings (whether men, women, or children) become congregated together, there will evil be engendered, propagated, and multiplied. This remark applies of course, to domiciliary associations, and from which the congregations in the Senate, the Church, and the Forum are excepted. It is pe- culiarly applicable to seminaries of education, of every kind ; 28 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. and it is perhaps, fortunate that society at large is not aware of the number, the species, and the magnitude of ills inflicted on mankind by the Lancastrian system of education — a system invented and practised many a century before Lancaster was born. But, although the honest Quaker must relinquish all title to originality on this point, he may fairly claim the supe- rior merit of improvement . Pupils, in all ages, were in the ha- bit of teaching each other — mischief : — Lancaster caused them to teach each other — knowledge. This last is “ mutual in- struction” — the former is “ mutual c/estruction.” But the new system did not supersede the old ; it was only superadded to it. It is, therefore, the bounden duty, as it should be the paramount object, of all parents, guardians, and tutors, to circumscribe as much as possible this “ evil communication,” jvhich not only “ corrupts good manners,” but, perchance, good morals into the bargain ! Having thus offered some remarks on the manner of education, as connected with health, or at least with happiness, I doubt wdiether I am justified in touching on the matter of education itself. My reflections shall be brief, and, if not founded in ob- servation and in reason, they will fall to the ground. The two grand or cardinal objects of education, in my hum- ble opinion, are, first , to curb the evil propensities of our na- ture, by increasing our knowledge or wisdom — and, secondly , to make us useful to society. That learning or knowledge does elevate the mind, humanize the heart, and prevent barbarism of manners, we have the best authority of antiquity — “ emollit mores nec sinit esse feros.” There can be no doubt that these effects flow, more or less, from all kinds of learning or know- ledge 5 they are, however, the more especial results of what may be termed, in a comprehensive sense, classical learning — or the study of great authors, modern as well as ancient. But, to obtain the second grand object of education — to become useful members of society, we must acquire knowledge of a very dif- ferent kind — namely, science. It will not be sufficient to study philosophy, rhetoric, poetry, belles-lettres, &c. — we must learn OBJECTS AND ENDS OF EDUCATION. 29 the exact and the inexact sciences — the nature of things. A good education, then, is a happy combination, or a just pro- portion of learning and knowledge — or, in other words, of li- terature and science. The proportions must vary, no doubt, ac- cording to the destination of the individual. The military cadet should not spend too much of his time on Greek and Latin. All that Homer has told us respecting the siege of Troy, would avail very little in the siege of Gibraltar or Malta. Even the eloquent and very useful art of running away, transmitted to us by Xenophon and the ten thousand Greeks, would have been of little use to Moore or Moreau, in the mountains of Spain or the forests of Germany. So, again, the various voyages of Ulysses, between the Scamander and the Tyber — from the re- sounding Hellespont to the Pillars of Hercules, would be next to useless on the chart of a modern Mediterranean cruiser. This reasoning might be pushed to any lengths ; but it is not neces- sary. It appears to me that, among the upper, and even the middle classes of society, learning is cultivated somewhat at the expense of science — words are studied more than things — and the ornamental is preferred to the useful. If a man were cast in the antediluvian mould, and could cal- culate on numbering six or seven hundred years, instead of sixty or seventy, he might, advantageously enough, dedicate ten or fifteen years to the study of the dead languages, in order that he might dig, for centuries afterwards, in the rich and inex- haustible mines of literature, philosophy, rhetoric, and poetry, to which these languages open the door. But I venture to doubt the policy of employing one-tenth, or more, of our short span of existence in the acquirement of two dead languages, which we are forced to abandon almost immediately after they are learnt, and before we can do much more than view, at a dis- tance, the fruits which they display. Suppose a young and adventurous traveller from Otaheite (intending to explore the great continental world) lands at Can- ton, and there finds that the u Celestial Empire” compre- hends the whole of this globe, with the exception of a few islets. so ECONOMY OF HEALTH. like his own, scattered around its almost boundless shores.* The language of the Celestials being wholly unknown to him, it requires seven years to acquire it, even imperfectly. He then sets out on his travels ; and, having crossed a great wall, and wandered over many mountains and deserts, he comes to an- other great country, whose language is totally different from that which he took such time and pains to study. He has no alternative, but to assign another seven years to the tongue of the white bear. At the conclusion of this period, he finds let- ters of recal to his native Isle, and goes back with his head full of two languages, neither of which enables him to roast a pig or a prisoner better than his countrymen, who understand no other language but their own. Now, without meaning to compare Greek and Latin with Chinese and Russian, I may safely aver, that the languages of Homer and Horace are of very little more use, to three-fourths of those into whose brains they are ham- mered, than the language of the Hindoo or Hun would be to the native of Owyhee or Otaheite. To the multitude, indeed, the dead languages are very nearly a dead loss — and for this good reason, that their avocations and pursuits, through life, prevent them from unlocking the magazines of learning, to which those languages are merely the keys. Common sense is begin- ning to impress mankind with this truth. Even among the members of the learned and liberal professions, the time spent on the classics is too great, while that dedicated to the exact and inexact sciences is by far too short. The light of reason has actually penetrated the dark monastic cloisters of Westmin- ster, and forced the sages of antiquity to associate on the same bench with the sons of modern science ! As the world grows older — as population multiplies — as com- petition becomes more intense — and as the difficulties of sub- sisting increase, time will be more and more valuable. It is, therefore, probable (though perhaps to be deplored) that the * This is the geographical doctrine of the Chinese, and laid down as such on their charts. LITERATURE AND SCIENCE. 31 aera is not far distant, when the study of dead languages and ancient literature will, in a great measure, give way to that of living tongues and modern discoveries. A curious problem might here be more easily started than solved, viz. what are the differences, as respects the individual, between the study of an original author, and a good translation? Suppose we take the Iliad of Homer, and Pope’s free transla- tion of it. Would the operations of the intellect, the elevation of sentiment, the excitement of the feelings, and the exercise of the imagination, be materially different in the study of the one, from that which would take place in the study of the other ? I very much doubt whether the results would be greatly dis- similar. If this be the case, the study of the dead languages is of little use to the great mass of mankind. They are necessary, at present, to those who are destined for law, divinity, the se- nate, and medicine. Those also who have nothing to do, may probably as well expend seven or ten years on Greek and Latin, as on any thing else. To authorship, too, now become so very extensive a business, the dead languages are essential ; though I question whether they conduce much to originality of thought. How did Homer and the great men of antiquity get on, seeing that they could not all have had the dead languages for models of study ? I shall hardly be accused of a gothic or barbarian insensibility to the beauties and benefits of classic lore. My prejudices run in a very different direction. But common sense, and some observation of what is going forwards in the world, convince me that a day is rapidly approaching, when the necessary details of modern science will very much supersede the elegant pur- suits of ancient literature.* Some of the remarks on the education of male youth will * Probably the chief advantage of learning the dead languages consists in the exercise of the mind during the acquisition of them. The intellectual powers are, unquestionably, very much strengthened and improved by this process ; but still we are to ask the question, might not exercise of the mind, in the acquisition of modern science and living languages, be more beneficial 32 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. bear, mutatis mutandis , on that of the female ; but others will not. It cannot be said that too much of their time is dedi- cated to the Greek and Latin Classics. They are much fonder of living tongues than of dead languages. The education of females is either domestic, or at the boarding-school. The former is, by far, the best. Notwithstanding the pains which are taken by the superintendants of respectable seminaries, evils attach to congregations of young females, which no care can entirely prevent. Female education is indeed more detrimental to health and happiness than that of the male. Its grasp, its aim, is at accomplishments rather than acquirements — at gild- ing rather than at gold — at such ornaments as may dazzle by their lustre, and consume themselves, in a few years, by the intensity of their own brightness, rather than those which radiate a steady light till the lamp of life is extinguished. They are most properly termed accomplishments ; because they are designed to accomplish a certain object — matrimony. That end, or rather beginning, obtained, they are about as useful to their owner, as a rudder is to a sheer hulk, moored head and stern in Portsmouth harbour — the lease of a house after the term has expired — or a pair of wooden shoes during a paroxysm of gout. The mania for music injures the health, and even curtails the life of thousands and tens of thousands, annually, of the fair sex, by the sedentary habits which it enjoins, and the morbid sympathies which it engenders. The story of the Syrens is no fable. It is verified to the letter ! “ Their song is death, and makes destruction please. ** Visit the ball-room and the bazaar, the park and the concert, the theatre and the temple : — among the myriads of young and to those who are not destined for the learned professions ? Even in the Se- nate and at the Bar, how extremely useful is a knowledge of modern science — and in the various departments of private life and private avocations, how much more important this knowledge than that of Greek and Latin ! ! — 2nd Edition. MUSIC. 33 beautiful, whom you see dancing or dressing, driving or chant- ing, laughing or praying — you will hardly find one in the en- joyment of health ! No wonder, then, that the doctors, the dentists, and the druggists, multiply almost as rapidly as the pianos, the harps, and the guitars ! The length of time occupied by music renders it morally impossible to dedicate sufficient attention to the health of the body or the cultivation of the mind. The consequence is, that the corporeal functions languish and become impaired, — a con- dition which is fearfully augmented by the peculiar effect which music has upon the nervous system. It will not be denied that every profession, avocation, or pursuit, modifies, in some degree, the moral and physical temperament of the individual. No art or science that ever was invented by human ingenuity exerts so powerful an influence on mind and body as music. It is the galvanic fluid of harmony, which vibrates on the ear — electrifies the soul — and thrills through every nerve in the body. Is it probable that so potent an excitant can be daily applied, for many hours, to the sensitive system of female youth, without producing extraordinary effects ? It is impossible. If music have the power (and Shakespeare is our authority) “ To soften rocks and bend the knotted oak,” is it not likely to inflame the imagination and disorder the nerves ? All pungent stimuli produce inordinate excitement, followed, in the end, by a train of evils inducing debility and irritability. Every thing that merely delights the senses , with- out improving the understandings must come under the head of sensual gratifications, which tend, by their very nature, to ex- cess. Music, like wine, exhilarates, in small quantities, but intoxicates in large. The indulgence of either, beyond the limits of moderation, is deleterious. It is fortunate', however, that, on the majority of young fe- males, chained to the piano, like the galley-slave to the oar, the vibrations of music fall inert, and the u concord of sweet sounds” flows from their tongues and their fingers as mechanically as F 34 ECONOMY OF HEALTH . from the rotations of the liurdigurdy, or the wires of the musical snuff-box. They only lose their time, and a certain portion of health, from want of exercise. They form the aristocracy of the “factory girls/’ who have been so fortunate as to get their “ten hours’ bill” reduced to six. But there is a consi- derable portion of young females whose organization is more delicate, and whose susceptibilities are more acute. To these, the present inordinate study and practice of music (for it is in- ordinate) is injurious in various ways, by deranging a variety of functions. The nature and extent of these injuries are not generally known, and cannot be detailed here. But one effect, of immense importance, will not be denied — namely, the length of time absorbed in music, and the consequent deficiency of time for the acquisition of useful knowledge, in the system of female education. If some of that time which is spent on the piano, the harp, and the guitar, were dedicated to the elements of science — or, at all events, of useful information, as modern languages, history, astronomy, geography, and even mathe- matics, there would be better wives and mothers, than where the mind is left, comparatively, an uncultivated blank, in order to pamper the single sense of hearing ! Mrs. Somerville has stolen harmony from Heaven as well as St. Cecilia ! The subject is so important that, at the risk of tautology, I must take it up again in the third Septenniad, where the evil is even greater than in the second.* * It will probably be objected that I have despatched the first fourteen years of life much too briefly. My object, however, is not to work out mi- nute details that are often useless, or, at least, unnecessary — but to esta- blish ‘principles. When these last 'are understood, every one may modify them and apply them to his own case without difficulty. DANGERS OF THE THIRD SEPTENNIAD. 35 THIRD SEPTENNIAD. [14 to 21 years .] The stream of human life, during the third Septenniad, under- goes no trifling variations in its course, its volume, and its velocity. This epoch is among the most important of the ten. The plebeian youth exchanges the school-master for the task- master — the homely hearth for the toilsome workshop — the parental indulgence for the tedious apprenticeship ! A grade higher in the scale of society, and we see the stripling youth leave the seminary, for the counting-house, the warehouse, or some of the thousand sedentary avocations, in which, from five to seven years of the very spring-tide of existence are consumed by the laws of civilization and commerce, in a species of servi- tude ! Higher still, and the scene shifts from the academy to the university — the one apparently a continuation of the other — both having the same object in view, the acquisition of know- ledge — but the transition often involving a great revolution in the end. The Third Septenniad is indeed the spring of life. In it the seeds of good or of evil, of virtue or vice, of science or ignorance, are sown. In it the physical functions act with boundless energy — the human frame expanding and taking on its form and dimensions ; while the mental powers display, in the great majority of instances, their characteristic features, capacities, and propensities. It is in this stage of rapid deve- lopment, intellectual and corporeal, that the greatest difficulty exists is preserving th e physique within the boundaries of health, and confining the morale within the limits of virtue. How many minds are wrecked — how many constitutions ruined, during the third Septenniad ! ! The extent of the mischief — even of the moral evil, is less known to the priest than to the physician. At so early a period of life, when passions so much predominate over principles, it is not to be expected that the 36 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. force of precept can be so efficient a preventive as the fear of bodily suffering. If the youth of both sexes could see through the vista of future years, and there behold the catalogue of afflictions and sufferings inseparable attendants on time and humanity, they would pause, ere they added to the number, by originating maladies at a period when Nature is endeavouring to fortify the material fabric against the influence of those that must necessarily assail us, in the progress of life ! Yet it is in this very epoch, that some of the most deadly seeds of vice and disease are implanted in our spiritual and corporeal consti- tutions — seeds which, not merely ce grow with our growth, and strengthen with our strength,” but acquire vigour from our weakness, and obtain victory in our decay. This melancholy reflection is applicable to all classes and both sexes. The ple- beian is not secured from the evil by poverty — nor the patrician by wealth. Neither are the middle classes protected by the golden mean, in which they are supposed to be placed. Civi- lization has decreed — and society has sanctioned the fiat — that youth, during the third Septenniad, shall experience much more tribulation of mind and affliction of body, than was designed for it by Nature or Nature’s god. The sedentary and insalutary avocations to which young people, of both sexes, in the mid- dling and lower classes of society are confined, between the ages of 14 and 21, occasion dreadful havoc in health, and no small deterioration of morals. The drudgery, the scanty cloathing, the bad food, and the exposure to the elements, of the most in- digent classes, are scarcely more injurious to health and life, than the sedentary habits, the impure air, and the depressing passions of the various species of artisans, mechanics, and shop- keepers, in the classes immediately above them. The infinite variety of new avocations, among these grades, has given rise to a corresponding infinity of physical and moral maladies, of which our forefathers were ignorant, and for which it requires much ingenuity, at present, to invent significant names. The incalculable numbers of young females confined to sedentary avocations, from morning till night — and, too often, from night DANGERS OF THE THIRD SEPTENNIAD. 3J till morning — become not only unhealthy themselves, but after- wards consign debility and disease to their unfortunate offspring. It is thus that infirmities of body and mind are acquired, mul- tiplied, transmitted from parent to progeny, and, consequently, perpetuated in society. The fashionable world — “ The gay licentious proud. Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround” — know not how many thousand females are annually sacrificed, during each season in this metropolis, by the sudden demand and forced supply of modish ornaments and ephemeral habili- ments ! They know not that, while they conscientiously be- lieve they are patronising trade and rewarding industry, they are actually depriving many thousand young women of sleep, air, and exercise ; — consigning them to close recesses and crowded attics, where the stimulus of tea, coffee, and liqueurs is rendered necessary to support the corporeal fabric — and, where the congregation of juvenile females, under such circum- stances, conduces to any thing rather than vigour of constitu- tion or morality of sentiment ! The secrets of the prison- house come out more frequently on the bed of sickness than on the bed of death. They fall more under the cognizance of the physician than of the divine. When the curtain is falling on the last scene, the fair penitent and the hoary offender have neither time nor power to recall or relate the dark incidents of the drama now closing for ever ! It is during the bustle of life, when health is in jeopardy, and pains and penalties are in die course of infliction, that the causes of human ills, and the consequences of human frailties, moral and physical, are re- vealed with a candour unlikely to obtain under any other cir- cumstances. The disclosures are as safe in the bosom of the physician as of the priest ; and, for very obvious reasons, they are more frequently revealed, in this country at least, for the recovery of health, than for a passport to Heaven.* Let not * What says Hannah More ? “ I used to wonder why people should be so fond of the company of their physician, till I recollected that he is the 38 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. the parson be jealous of the doctor in this case. The services of the latter are nearly as soon forgotten by the patient, after emerging into society, as those of the former are, when he “ shuffles off this mortal coil,” and passes the waters of obli- vion. But this is by the way. Large as is the class to which I have been alluding, it is as a drop of water in the ocean, compared with the myriads of youth, male and female, pent up in the foul atmospheres of our count- less factories, inhaling alike the moral and physical poison that corrupts the mind while it enervates the body ! Is it improbable that the individual deterioration thus extensively diffused among the lower orders of the community, should, in process of time, affect a considerable mass of society at large ? I think it is far from improbable that, some ten or twelve centuries hence, when Australia shall have become a powerful nation — Asia be governed by limited monarchs of native birth — the Antilles a swarm of independent republics, of all hues, between jet black and white — when America shall exhibit a long series of disunited states, stretching from Terra del Fuego to the barren coast of Labrador — when British dominion shall not extend be- yond the British Isles, if so far — then, probably, some contem- plative philosopher may stand on the banks of the Thames, as Gibbon stood on the tower of the Capitol, musing and medi- tating on the “ decline and fall” of a great empire, and on the degeneracy of a people, whose arms, arts, and commerce had only person with whom one dares (to) talk continually of oneself, without interruption, contradiction, or censure.” This is true, so far as it goes. But it falls infinitely short of the mark. The individual does not talk of himself or herself from pure egotism, which is vanity ; but, from the uni- versal impulse of human and animal nature — self-preservation. If it were for the pleasure of hearing oneself talk, would man and woman disclose their sins, their foibles, or their mistakes ? No, verily ! They do so, most wisely, in order that the physician may have a clear knowledge of the causes of their maladies, and, consequently, a better chance of removing them. In this point, at least, wisdom predominates over vanity. It is honorable to the medical profession, that hardly an instance is on record where any other ad- vantage is taken of free confession than the benefit of the confessor. DEGENERATION OF CONSTITUTION. 39 long been the theme of universal admiration and envy ! I know not why Britain can expect to escape the fate of Greece, of Rome, and of all the great nations of antiquity. Youth, man- hood, decrepitude, and decay, are the destiny of kingdoms as well as of individuals. The body politic is subject to the same phases, revolutions, disorders, and decay as the human body. And although there may be, and I believe there is, something in the climate, soil, genius, and race of Britons that will offer a most obstinate and protracted resistance to the inevitable causes of national deterioration, yet he must be blind, indeed, who does not perceive the onward working of these causes in our own days. Nations are only aggregations of individuals — and what- ever be the influence, whether good or evil, that operates on a considerable number of the population, that influence will radiate from ten thousand centres, and diffuse its effects, sooner or later, over the whole surface of the community. There is no special boundary, in this country, between the different classes of society, that can limit the sphere of moral or physical evil. The same contemplative philosopher, when surveying the stunted beings composing the mass of a degenerated manufac- turing population, will be likely to exclaim — “ ’Twas not the sires of such as these. That dared the elements and pathless seas — That made proud Asian monarchs feel How weak their gold was against Europe’s steel ; — But beings of another mould — Rough, hardy, vigorous, manly, bold.” In viewing the ascending links of society, there is no great cause for gratulation. The youth, of both sexes, doomed to the counter, the desk, the nursery, and the school-room, are little elevated, in point of salubrity, above their humbler con- temporaries ! They have higher notions, but not stronger health — more ambition to rise, but not better means of exalta- tion — their passions are stronger, but the power of gratifying them is not more extended — in fine, the thirst of enjoyment is augmented, while the supply is diminished. We raise our views still higher along the numerous links and v 40 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. classes of society- — and what do we behold ? — The professions, learned and scientific. It is in the course of the third Sep- tenniad that the destiny of youth, for these professions, is fixed. For the senate — for the pulpit — for the bar — for physic — for various pursuits and avocations — and, in many instances, for no pursuits, except the enjoyment of wealth in private life, how many thousands of our youths are annually ushered into the academic bowers and halls of our universities ? In these, there is nothing necessarily or essentially inimical to body or mind ; but the congregation of multitudes together, and some- times the studies themselves, do produce a host of evils, moral and physical. To Oxford and Cambridge many repair, to learn — little more than how to drink Port-wine : — many others to study classics and mathematics, for obtaining their degrees — a smaller band to enter the arena of competition, and engage in the fierce con- flict for honours — honours too frequently purchased at the ex- pense of health ! How often is the laurel converted into the cypress, to wave over the tomb of talent — or over the living wreck of mind and body ! How often is the ship foundered, on this her first voyage, by carrying a press of sail that strained, bent, and sprung those masts, yards, and stays which would have carried the vessel, under ordinary circumstances, through the various storms of life ! To those who are not well ac- quainted with the intimate connexion between mind and matter, in this state of our existence, the almost mechanical influences to which the immaterial principle is subject, may appear incre- dible — and somewhat humiliating. Thus, the intellect may be, and every day is, stretched like a ligament or muscle, till it snaps, or loses its elasticity and contractility, and, for a time at least, becomes incapable of its ordinary functions. The human mind is exhausted by protracted thinking, in the same manner as the human body is exhausted by long-continued labour ; but it is not so easily recruited by rest — still less by cordials.* It would, doubtless, be more correct to say that the organ of the mind. OVER-EXERTION OF THE MIND. 41 The powers of the mind, especially during the third Septen- niad of life, are still more expansive and elastic than those of the body ; and the possessor of talent conceives that there is scarcely any limit to the safe exercise of that gift — till he feels' the baneful influence of intellectual exertion on the earthy ta- bernacle of the soul. Even then, he considers (perhaps justly) the exhaustion or inability to proceed, as the infirmity of the grosser and more perishable companion of the mind, and only waits the recruit of body before he again spurs the spirit to fresh exertions ! Is it likely that these, almost supernatural, efforts can be innocuous ? No indeed ! I have so often seen them exemplified, that I cannot too urgently warn the student, who strives for academic honours, to economise his intellectual powers, with the view of preserving them, in the same manner that he would guard his bodily health by avoiding intemper- ance. These observations are not directed to the drones, but to the wranglers of our Universities — and not to those only who wrangle within the walls of Oxford and Cambridge, but to the tens of thousands of wranglers who experience the wear and tear of mind throughout society at large ! Nature, though often liberal, is seldom lavish of her personal gifts to mankind — or even to womankind. It is rare to see high cultivation of the mind conjoined with rude health and athletic strength. They may co-exist — because there is no rule without its exceptions — but it is in cases where inordinate talent has been bestowed ; and, consequently, where great mental acquire- ments have been made with little labour. Nature is generally a niggard in this respect. Rarely does she permit the highest cultivation of the mind, and the most complete development of the body, in the same individual. Examples to the contrary may exist — I have never seen one. Now, as it is in the third Septenniad that Nature labours rather than the mind itself, is thus affected. But I have here made use of com- mon parlance, and will explain myself very fully on this point in a more ad- vanced stage of the volume. 42 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. most strenuously to build the arch, preparatory to fixing the key-stone of the constitution, is it not reasonable to believe, that the great and frequent interruptions which she experiences in her work, by the contentions of the spirit, in civilized life, must often cause the arch to be imperfect, and the key-stone insecure ? In our universities, two channels are open to dis- tinction — through classics and mathematics ; or, in other words, through the paths of literature and science. The former is most ornamental — the latter most useful. The one expands the imagination, the other fortifies the judgment. A moderate combination of the two would appear to be preferable to a high proficiency in any one of the branches. The universities are of a different opinion. Instead of placing the laurel crown on the head of him only who combines the greatest quantum of classical lore with the largest amount of mathematical science, they award the prize to him who mounts highest on the scale of one branch, to the almost total neglect of the other !* Nothing can be more injudicious than this plan of stimulating talent and rewarding industry. An equal cultivation of the two de- partments of human acquirements would be more beneficial to the individual — more easy of accomplishment — and less injuri- ous to health. Change or variety of study is like change or variety of posture, exercise, food, or amusement. It is a relief or relaxation, rather than a prolongation of the preceding task. Classical literature refreshes the intellect, and gives wings to the fancy, after the dry problems and rigorous demonstrations of geometry : — the latter , in turn, corrects the wanderings of the imagination among the fairy and fictitious scenes of poetry and mythology — brings back our thoughts to the sober truths of exact science — and disciplines the mind by the exercise of the judgment. I can see no good reason why the tentamen, or examination, should not always include both branches of know- * The circumstance of the “ double first,” at Oxford and Cambridge, can hardly be said to invalidate this position. T H E M A STER- PASSIONS. 43 ledge. He has, however, the option of “ going out” in one or other, according to his fancy.* It is in the third Septenniad that some of the passions, and many of the propensities, dawn forth, and even take root. Previous to that period, when the appetites for food, drink, pas- times, exercise, and sight-seeings are gratified, the youth falls into profound repose, to awake with renovated vigour, for run- ning the same round of enjoyments as before. But, in the third Septenniad, a stranger appears upon the stage — and soon assumes the leading character in the dramatis personae — a character which he often sustains till the ninth, or even the tenth Septenniad. I need hardly say that this passion is love. It precedes and overrules the other master-passions — as ambi- tion, avarice, &c. which, at this early period of life, are repre- sented by substitutes (emulation and economy), rather than ac- tual occupants of the human microcosm. These three grand passions — love, ambition, and avarice — are at all times an- tagonizing powers. Love is first in the field — and generally the first to quit the arena of contention. Ambition is the se- cond in action, and the second to relinquish the struggle. Ava- rice is the youngest, that is, the latest-born, and generally sur- vives the other two.f It seldom happens that these three dominant passions are long co-existent and co-equal. One usually acquires the as- cendancy over the others, and reduces them to subjection. It * A week seldom passes in which I do not see illustrations of the havoc made in the minds and bodies of wranglers at our universities. The tree of knowledge is forced. The flowers and the fruit are called into precocious existence. The consequence is that the sap is exhausted, and the branches themselves, instead of annual fructification afterwards, present only dwarfish fruit, unsightly to the eye, and unsavoury to the taste ! Such is too often the final reward of successful, as well as unsuccessful competition for acade- mic honours ! The elated youth proudly exhibits his brow encircled with the laurel crown. He sleeps, and dreams of literary fame. He wakes and finds the laurel converted into a wreath of cypress ! f In courts, the passion of ambition will often antagonize and conquer avarice, in the last years of protracted existence. 44 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. not unfrequently happens, indeed, that this one annihilates its contemporaries, or holds them in complete abeyance ! There is little danger, however, of love being in a minority during the third, or even the fourth Septenniad. Avarice, the final conqueror, is rarely born till after these periods — and ambition has little chance with the quiver-bearing deity. Cupid is re- presented by the ancients as a winged infant, amusing himself with catching butterflies, trundling a hoop, or playing with a nymph. These representations are not inappropriate to the character of love, in the third Septenniad. It is then guileless, innocent, ardent, and devoted ! Would that it always main- tained this character ! But, alas ! like every thing in this world, love itself changes with time, and assumes such a different as- pect and temperament, that the poets were forced to imagine two Cupids — one heaven-born — the other, the offspring of Nox and Erebus — distinguished for riot, debauchery, falsehood, and inconstancy ! Instead of the bundle of golden arrows, designed to pierce, but not wound, the susceptible heart, we too often see the sable quiver charged with darts and daggers, dipped in poisons more potent than the Upas, and destined to scatter sickness and sorrow through every ramification of society — poi- sons, both moral and physical, unknown to Greek or Roman, whether philosopher, satirist, or physician ; but fearfully cal- culated to taint the springs of life, and involve the innocent and guilty in one common ruin !* An admonition from the experi- enced physician frequently makes a deeper impression on the mind of headstrong youth, in this respect, than a sermon from the priest (a truth which I have often had occasion to ve- rify) — and, therefore, I shall not deem it irrelevant to strew a moral lesson occasionally in the path, while descending along the current of human life. The close of the third Septenniad * Juvenal and Perseus have given us a long black catalogue of the evils springing from the “ son of Nox and Erebus but a modern censor, ac- quainted with the “ ills to which flesh is heir/’ in our own days, from the son of Jupiter and Venus, could add a frightful appendix! LOVE modern female accomplishments. 45 is a critical and dangerous period of youth. It is not against “ self-love/’ as the poet has it, that the reasoning powers are to be arrayed : — They have then — “ Passion to urge, and Reason to restrain.” The latter is often a weak antagonist to the former at this early period ! From the quivered son of Jupiter they have little to fear ; but oh ! let them beware of that other deity, sprung from Nox and Erebus ! Woman, designated the weaker sex, “ comes of age” while man is a minor. In consequence of this earlier maturity than the lord of the creation, she does not pass the third Skpten- niad unscathed by the God of Love. She suffers more ills from this cause than the world is aware of. The state of civilization at which we have arrived produces such a wide range of discontents, and despair of poverty — to which might perhaps be added, the terrors of superstition, and the hatreds of sectarianism. These, I have said, are the chief fountains of our moral ills — and these pertur- bations of the mind induce, directly or indirectly, nine-tenths of the disorders of the body. It indicates a high degree of intellectual culture in the time of Plato, and a very low ratio of physical causes of disease, when we find that philosopher ascribing “ all disorders of the body to the soul”- — “ Omnia corporis mala ab animo.” SOURCES OK MODERN MALADIES. 99 The remark shews, at all events, that the Grecian sage was either a most observant physician, or a veritable prophet. If for “ all ” we sub- stitute “ most” disorders, the maxim of Plato is strictly true and appli- cable in these our own days. And here it may be both curious and useful to advert to a remark- able relation between the mental and corporeal functions of man, which has appeared to render the influence of the morale over the physique even more extended than it really is, in the production of diseases. It is this : — the moral affliction is very often only an accessary, or aux- iliary to the physical cause in bringing forth maladies of the body. Thus, a man may be daily exposed, for weeks or months — perhaps for years, to the contagion of typhus fever — to marsh miasma or malaria — to the poison of scarlatina or erysipelas diffused in the air — or to that inscrutable agent which produces cholera, with perfect impunity, his mind being easy and tranquil. But let a mental affliction occur, and immediately the morbific poison which had lain dormant in the consti- tution, or, at all events, was unable to develop itself, bursts forth and displays its specific effects — the moral tribulation appearing to be the direct or immediate cause of the bodily disorder. This remarkable and well-known fact shews, not only how anxiety or trouble of mind lays the human frame more open to the operation of purely physical agents of a deleterious kind, but also how tranquillity or serenity of mind will render the said agents almost innocuous. I could fill a volume with the individual examples of this kind which I have personally observed, and am daily witnessing ; but I shall only adduce a few illustrations drawn from large masses or classes of men, and which I have had opportunities of noting in various parts of the world. One of the most recent and melancholy instances occurred in the fatal expedition to Walcheren. While our troops and seamen were actively engaged in the siege and bombardment of Flushing, exposed to intense heat, heavy rains, and poisonous exhalations from a mala- rious soil, inundated by the turbid waters of the Scheldt, scarcely a man was on the sick-list ; — the excitement of warfare, the prospect of vic- tory, and the expectation of booty, completely fortifying the body against all the physical causes of disease that environed the camp and the fleet. I verily believe that, even after the fatal delay before Flushing, if we had pushed on for Antwerp, and captured the fleet, the armament would have returned in health, to the British shores, and the fever of Walcheren 100 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. would scarcely have been recorded. But when culpable mismanage- ment was crowned with irretrievable failure of the expedition — and still worse, when the dispirited troops were kept penned up inactive on the sickly and monotonous plains of Walcheren and Beveland, then, indeed, the pestilent miasmata, which our men had been breathing for weeks, with impunity, burst, like a volcano over their devoted heads, and either swept them, in thousands, to an inglorious grave, or harassed them, for years, with all the tortures which the “ fiend of the fens,” is so well qualified to inflict ! To whatever point of the compass we turn, we see striking examples of a similar kind. Edam, on the coast of Java, was a memorable and melancholy prototype of Walcheren, at the mouth of the Scheldt. After the failure of attack on Batavia, the Isle of Edam was the grave of our troops and tars. Looking westward, who does not remember “ Hosier’s Ghost,” and the ghosts of hundreds and thousands of our countrymen ! — More recently, the waters of the Mississippi were tainted by the corses of our soldiers and sailors, after the repulse from New Orleans ! Our naval history furnishes numerous examples. Two ships sail for the East Indies, for instance, under nearly similar circum- stances. The one is successful in prizes, and arrives at her destination, without any sickness. The other makes no captures — the crew be- come dispirited — and scurvy, dysentery, or fever, makes destructive ravages. Of this fact, I could adduce, and have adduced, striking illustrations and proofs in another place.* But knowledge the most precious is sometimes gleaned from calami- ties the most appalling. Public disasters, of national interest at the time, have developed a principle, which may be beneficially adopted in the various afflictions of private life. It is wonderful that this principle, so clearly revealed, on many melancholy and momentous occasions, should be so little appreciated, and so seldom applied practically to the exigencies of life. The principle is simply this : — that, in all moral afflictions, vigorous exertion of the corporeal powers is the very best antidote to the baleful effects of the depressing passions of the mind ; while, on the other hand, the deleterious consequences of the moral evil are exasperated ten-fold by inertness of the body. This latter part of the principle has been sufficiently illustrated by the deplorable in- * “ Influence of Tropical Climates on European Constitutions.” — 5th Ed. SALUTARY EFFECTS OF CORPOREAL EXERTION. 101 stances of Walcheren, Batavia, &c. I could adduce numerous examples from private life ; but that is unnecessary. The first, and most impor- tant part of the principle deserves some illustration in detail. One of the earliest and most memorable illustrations will be found in the celebrated retreat of the “ ten thousand Greeks,” under Xeno- phon and Cheirisophus, after the fall of Cyrus on the plains of Cunaxa. This band of auxiliaries were left without commanders, money, or pro- visions, to traverse a space of twelve hundred leagues, under constant alarms from the attacks of barbarous and successive swarms of enemies. They had to cross rapid rivers, penetrate gloomy forests, drag their weaiy way over vast and burning deserts, scale the summits of rugged mountains, and wade through deep snows and pestilent morasses, in continual danger of death, or capture, which was far worse than death ! This retreat is nearly unparalleled, in the annals of war, for difficulties and perils ; but has been surpassed in disasters, within the present century. The Greek army had infinitely greater cause for mental des- pondency, when they saw their generals butchered by the treacherous Tissaphernes, and themselves surrounded by ruthless foes, two or three thousand miles from any friendly country, than any army since that period. It is not a little remarkable that, in the first stupor of misfor- tune by which they were overwhelmed, and nearly captured, Xenophon discerned and broached the very principle of conservative hygiene (I allude not to modern political designations) for which I am here con- tending. In his address to some of his companions, in the fearful night that succeeded the murder of Clearchus and the other leaders of the phalanx, he says : — “ The soldiers have, at present, nothing before their eyes but misfortune — if any one can turn their thoughts into action, it would greatly encourage them.” Here is the very principle itself, happily conceived, and most promptly acted on, by the young Athenian General. He tried, and with success, to convert the torpor of despair into the energy of desperation — urging the men to prefer death in the sanguinary, but brief and almost painless conflict with the enemy, per- sonally and collectively, to the protracted tortures that w T ould be the inevitable consequence of captivity ! Then it was that the tents w r ere burnt, the carriages destroyed, the sumpter-horses slaughtered, and every unnecessary incumbrance, besides “ the soldier and his sword,” abandoned. During 215 days of almost uninterrupted, and toilsome march — often between two enemies, and engaged in front and rear at the same mo- 102 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. ment, the army lost an uncertain, but not a great number of men — partly by the darts and arrows of the barbarians — partly by desertion — partly by drowning in the rivers, or sinking in the morasses — partly by perishing in the snows of the Armenian mountains — but not one by sickness ! Xenophon is often very minute in his statements of losses, even describing the individual cases, the names of these individuals, and the parts of the body wounded. Only two instances of sickness are put on record : — one, a sort of Bulimia, or canine appetite, produced by the cold of the snow, which was observed in a considerable number of men, but did not prove fatal. The other, was an illness of 24 hours, which was general throughout the army, in consequence of indulgence in a kind of honey-comb, which they found, at one place, in Armenia, in great abundance. It produced vomiting and purging, among those who ate freely ; but a kind of drunken delirium in those who ate little.* He also describes very minutely, the almost unconquerable disposition to sleep, produced by the frigidity of the snows on the mountains near the sources of the Tigris. The army was in great jeopardy from this cause, for some days, and the soldiers could hardly be induced to con- tinue their march. Many of the rear-guard lay down, and preferred dying or being captured by the enemy, to perseverance against the lethargic sleep that overpowered them. Xenophon was obliged to halt, and repulse the enemy, to prevent these men from falling victims to the cold or to the barbarians. The number of the Greeks, at the commencement of this memorable retreat, is not stated ; but, estimating it at the full complement of ten thousand, it is clear that they could not have lost above 500 men, at the utmost, since they mustered, in the very last battle which they had (and in which they experienced hardly any loss), nine thousand five hundred troops, not including women and slaves ! — They never abandoned a single individual ; and they had no means of carrying sick men along with them, if any considerable number existed. The fact is, therefore, clearly established, that no sickness, in the common acceptation of the word, occurred in this series of sufferings and privations. Now, I am very far from insisting that this astonishing immunity from sickness was solely attributable to the constant activity of the body. * I was informed by my talented friend Sir Charles Bagot that, after a breakfast among the mountains of Virginia, in which he ate rather freely of honey, he ex- perienced a kind of inebriation, from which he did not get free till after severe sickness. This resulted from some property of the honey derived from the nutriment of the bees. SALUTARY EFFECTS OF CORPOREAL EXERTION. 103 There can be no doubt that the perpetual excitement of the mind — gloomy and depressing as it often was, but checquered, as it occasionally must have been, by gleams of hope breaking through the dense clouds of despondency — contributed, in no mean degree, to preserve the health and the lives of the troops. But I am convinced that, without the cor- poreal activity — the perpetual exposure to all the vicissitudes of climate, in the open air — the necessary temperance, which they were forced to observe — the ten thousand Greeks would have experienced a very different fate. This, I think, is proved by numerous modern instances. I shall only allude to one — the Austrians pent up in Mantua, where they lost double the number of the French who besieged them, though these last were far more exposed to the poisonous miasmata of the marshes than those within the ramparts. But despondency and in- activity prevailed among the one class of troops ; — exhilaration and activity among the other. When I said that the difficulties and perils of the “ ten thousand Greeks” were nearly unparalleled, I had in mind the case of our own countrymen — the unfortunate associates of Byron — who experienced perils, toils, and privations, infinitely greater than those which befel the Macedonian phalanx. The Greeks marched through hostile, but popu- lous and fertile countries. Xenophon has related no instance of suffer- ings from hunger in the Greek army, during the retreat. Byron’s men were frequently reduced to the dire necessity of eating grass — and many died from sheer starvation ! Often were they so situated, that the faintest ray of hope could hardly have dawned on the horizon of their desperate prospects ! “ And such thy strength-inspiring aid that bore The hardy Byron to his native shore — In horrid climes, where Chiloe’s tempests sweep Tumultuous murmurs o’er the troubled deep, 'Twas his to mourn Misfortune’s rudest shock, Scourged by the winds, and cradled on the rock — To wake each joyless morn, and search again The famished haunts of solitary men ; — Whose race, unyielding as their native storm, Knows not a trace of Nature but the form ; — Yet at thy call, the hardy Tar pursued, Pale, but intrepid — sad, but unsubdued — Pierced the deep woods, and hailing from afar, The moon’s pale planet, and the northern star, Paused at each dreary cry, unheard before, Hyenas in the wild, and mermaids on the shore ! 104 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. Campbell has here made his favourite, Hope, the guardian angel of our unfortunate countrymen ; and far am I from wishing to deny or diminish the influence of that exhilirating and"n ever- dying passion of the human breast. But I am convinced that Byron and his associates owed their preservation (those few who survived) mainly to incessant exercise of body and vigilance of mind. After a certain duration, indeed, of their miseries and toils, they became so careless of life, and so com- pletely bereft of hope, that four of them were left to starve and die on that horrid coast, without the slightest symptom of reluctance on their part ! The boat would not hold them all — and four marines remained, cheering their companions when shoving off from the shore ! The boat, some time afterwards, was forced back, but the poor marines were nowhere found ! Although nine- tenths of the original crew appear to have perished by drowning or starvation, Byron makes no mention of sickness, during any period of the long and unparalleled series of suffer- ings to which this ill-fated ship’s company was doomed. The memorable and disastrous retreat of Sir John Moore through the mountains of Spain, furnishes another illustration of the principle in question. When all hope of success had vanished — when all dis- cipline was at an end — when the daily routine of toil, hunger, and cold, was only varied and relieved by conflicts with an overpowering and pur- suing enemy — when drunkenness too often added desperation to valour — there was little or no sickness in the harassed and dispirited army ! Even at the water’s edge, and when Napoleon’s order to “ drive the leopard into the sea,” was being put into execution — the hastily and half-formed phalanx of march-worn, famine-wasted warriors, repulsed the legions of the imperial conqueror, as the columnar ranges of Staffa hurl back, in foam, the surges of the Atlantic. But, when danger was over, and safety secured — when activity of body and excitement of mind were changed for repose and comfort — then did disease break forth with terrible malignity, and thousands perished ingloriously in our hospitals, after narrow escapes by flood and field — and after vanquishing the ene- my, by which they had been closely pursued and dreadfully harassed. The salvation from shipwreck by means of boats, though often of the most terrible and almost miraculous kind, do not so well illustrate the principle in question, as toilsome marches on shore — because there is not that exercise of the body, in the former, as in the latter case. Yet the vigilance necessary in escapes from shipwreck, combined with the exercise of rowing and managing the sails, keep the body in a state of SALUTARY EFFECTS OF CORPOREAL EXERTION. 105 health, that could never have been anticipated under such circum- stances. A part of the crew of the Bounty, under Capt. Bligh, went through most wonderful scenes of suffering, as well as danger, w r ith almost entire immunity from sickness. Dr. Wilson, of the Royal Navy, has recently published a narrative, little inferior in interest to that of the Bounty. The vessel in which he was embarked was w'recked on a coral reef in the Indian Ocean, and the crew escaped in two fragile boats, which traversed a distance of nearly a thousand miles, exposed to the elements — and often to savages more dangerous than storms and seas — without the loss of a man — and even without sickness — though they were so reduced by hunger and fatigue, that their friends hardly knew them when they got to a friendly port. The last event to 'which I shall allude, is the disastrous hetreat of the French from Moscow. This was a catastrophe so terrific, that I fear to approach it, and doubt how to handle it ! It looks more like a visitation of divine displeasure on a guilty nation, than the common result of moral and physical causes, even on the largest scale of ope- ration. Think of More than thirty times the amount of the whole Grecian army, under Xenophon, cut off — utterly annihilated — in one-fifth part of the time occupied by the Macedonian retreat — and, apparently, under far less difficulties ! More than three hundred thousand men were destroyed in the retreat from Moscow — while the Grecians lost not more than five hundred between the Tigris and Trebizond ! The snows of Russia were not more impassable than those of Caucasus ; and the soldiers of Napoleon were surely more accustomed to frigid skies than the troops of Xenophon. But order and discipline were preserved in the Grecian ranks, while disorder and insubordination prevailed to a frightful extent in those of the Gaul. Under these last circumstances, and in dire conflict with the elements, the piercing blast swept down their tottering columns, as the autumnal tempest scatters the withered leaves of the deciduous forest. In this terrific scene, the destroying angel was not accompanied by his usual ghastly attendant — sickness. Those whom the sword and the elements spared, were exempted from all common maladies till they reached an asylum. There, in safety and at ease, when reflection on the dreadful catastrophe in the army was aided in its deleterious influence on the mind, by inactivity of body, the most frightful and extraordinary diseases burst forth, and a majority of P 106 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. this ill-fated remnant only escaped one form of death, to be cut off by others more lingering and painful ! W ere it not that historical records have more weight and authenticity than private statements, I would adduce some remarkable illustrations of the principle in question, from my individual observation ; but I think it is unnecessary. The practical application of this principle to a variety of exigencies, of daily and hourly occurrence, is what I most strenuously urge on the notice of all classes of readers. Disorders of the body, in these days, are engendered and propagated, to a most frightful extent, by moral commotions and anxieties of the mind, as will be shewn far- ther on ; and if I have proved that corporeal exertion, especially when aided by any intellectual excitement or pursuit, can obviate the evils that ensue to soul and body from these causes, I shall do some service to the community. The principle in question is neither utopian nor of difficult application. It is within the reach of high and low — rich and poor — the learned and the unlettered. Let moral ills overtake any of these, and he is in the high way to physical illness. To prevent the corporeal malady, and to diminish, as much as possible, the mental af- fliction itself, the individual must tread in the steps — haud passibus eequis — of Xenophon and Byron. He must “ keep the body active, and the stomach empty.” I can answer for the value of this precept. It pre- vents not the individual from throwing into the prescription as much philosophy, physic, and even theology, as he pleases. Of the last in- gredient, it becomes not me to speak, even comparatively ; but of the two other items, I can conscientiously own that they are as “ dust in the balance,” when weighed against the Gr^eco-Byronian recipe which I have so strongly recommended. The poor man has not far to cast about in quest of the means for putting this principle into practice. Generally speaking, he adopts it, nolens volens ; and hence it is, that the most in- digent suffer less from moral ills and misfortunes than those who are far removed from want. As man rises in rank and riches, he becomes de- prived — or rather he deprives himself — not of the means, but of the in- clination to embrace the protection which this principle holds out. Amongst the inferior orders of society, indolence and inebriety give a fearful impetus to the shock of misfortune, and soon induce a variety of corporeal disorders that curtail the range of life, and destroy the springs of happiness. And even in higher quarters, where we might expect better things, the mental affliction, or the moral adversity, appears to INGRATITUDE TO MOTHERS. 107 paralyze the energies of the soul, prostrate all firmness of resolve, and place in complete abeyance all fortitude and power of resistance against the overwhelming evil ! In such condition, it is no wonder that tem- porary solace is sought in wine and other deleterious stimulants, which only smother the flame, like coals heaped on a fire, to make the com- bustion more fierce and destructive afterwards. From these sources are derived many of those hypochondriacal miseries — dyspeptic torments, and even intellectual aberrations, which w r e every day observe. The application of the counteracting principle in question, must be left to in- dividual ingenuity. Women have less facilities for putting it in prac- tice than men, for obvious reasons ; but fortunately they bear dispen- sations, and vicissitudes, with much more fortitude than their boasted superiors — the stronger sex.* And here (though, perhaps, a little out of place) I cannot help ad- verting to a topic on which I have often meditated with painful feelings — the ingratitude which woman experiences from man, but especially from her male progeny ! Had not the God of Nature added instinct to reason in the human female breast, the race would, long since, have become extinct. The pains, the penalties, the toils, the cares, the anxieties of a mother, are not repaid by any thing like an adequate de- gree of gratitude on the part of the offspring ! Nothing, indeed, can repay the female parent for what she undergoes on account of her chil- dren ; and boasted reason would sink under the task, or shrink from the duty, had not the Omniscient Creator infused into the mother’s heart the irresistible instinct of the lioness, which prompts the savage animal to die in defence of its progeny ! — In the savage breast, the instinctive feeling soon ceases, and reason being absent, all sympathy between pa- * It may appear paradoxical, but I am convinced it is true — namely, that it would be much better for some people to lose the whole of their fortune than only half of it. The latter loss preys upon their minds and keeps them in a state of fretting, till their health is destroyed, and sometimes their reason impaired — because they have still enough of property left to keep them from actual want or manual labour. But if the whole of their means are swept away, then they are forced to seek some avocation or pursuit, which diverts the mind from the moral vicissitude, till the sting of adversity is blunted by the hand of time. There are some curious phenomena, which are ex- plicable only on this principle of derivation. Thus, the tortures of a painful surgical operation are greatly mitigated, by giving vent to the feelings in loud wail- ings. So, also, a sudden and overwhelming affliction, as the loss of a parent, sister, or child, is rendered less hurtful by a burst of crying and a flood of tears. — 2d Ed, 108 ECONOMY OK HEALTH . rent and progeny ceases also. Not so with the human female parent. The primary instinct is never entirely obliterated ; but, cherished through life by the nobler gift of reason, the ties of Nature, between mother and child, are infinitely stronger than between the father and offspring. It is strange that the ancient poets, when deifying so many meaner attributes of human nature, forgot maternal affection. They have cloathed in divinity the barbarous monster who slaughtered the children of Niobe, when they ought to have deified the parental agony which the mother felt, and which even the marble yet breathes forth ! Our own immortal poet, Campbell, has actually personified this same maternal love of offspring, in one of the most beautiful forms under which he delineates his “ Angel of Life” — his favourite hope. Lo ! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps, Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps ; And weaves a song of melancholy joy — “ Sleep, image of thy father, sleep, my boy ; “ Thy fame, thy worth, thy filial love, at last, “ Shall soothe this aching heart for all the past — “ With many a smile my solitude repay, “ And chace the world’s ungenerous scorn away.” That it is the instinctive love of offspring , rather than the hope of a return of love and filial duties from the infant, which fills the mother’s breast with the musings so beautifully described by the poet, I firmly believe. Indeed I think the poet himself has proved it ; for soon after- wards he breaks forth thus : — So speaks affection, ere the infant eye. Can look regard, or brighten in reply. There is another train of reflections which the poet causes to pass through the mind of the mother, while gazing on the unconscious babe, and which I believe to be more natural — certainly more sublime and dis- interested, than that which he has already portrayed. And say, when summon’d from the world and thee, I lay my head beneath the willow tree, Wilt thou , sweet mourner ! at my stone appear, And soothe my parted spirit ling’ring near ? Oh ! wilt thou come, at ev’ning hour, to shed The tear of Memory o’er my narrow bed ; Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low, And think on all my love and all my woe? In that passage, there is a train of thought worthy of an immortal M A TB RNAL AFFECT I O N , 109 being, and, in itself, indicative of immortality ! But what i maintain is this, that these and all other trains of reflection in the mind of the mo- ther, spring from the same grancf source — the instinctive love of offspring. This inherent passion is, indeed, sublimed by reason and religion ; and extends itself, in the form of hope, beyond the grave, as the poet has beautifully shewn ; but whether the sentiment be sordid or sublime, its origin must be traced to humble animal instinct — if anything can be humble which emanates from the hand — nay, the design of our Creator. As the philo -progenitive passion is one of the very few in- stincts common to man and the inferior animals, the locality of its mate- rial organ or instrument is said to be more accurately ascertained by phrenologists than most other organs. It is much larger in the female than in the male, whether human or animal. When I say that the mother is treated with ingratitude, I speak com- paratively. A mother cannot have sufficient gratitude from her children, because no return of filial affection can compensate for maternal suffer- ings, love, and anxiety. To the honor of human nature, however, it is but justice to state, that hardly any barbarity of manners or malignity of disposition can eradicate from the human breast that sense of obliga- tion which the offspring owes to the parent — and especially a mother. The female heart is, indeed, the natural channel through which the cur- rent of parental love and filial affection runs with the strongest and stea- diest course. A son may neglect or forget a mother — a daughter never ! Is there any reward for filial gratitude, and punishment for ingratitude, in this world ? It would probably be neither a safe nor an orthodox doctrine to maintain that all sins and crimes are punished in this proba- tionary state, yet I am much inclined to believe that very few of them escape retributive justice, sooner or later, in life. Many punishments are not visible to the world, though keenly felt by the individuals on whom they fall. As the silent and unseen worm corrodes the heart of the solid oak, so a guilty conscience consumes the heart of man, though the countenance may not indicate the gnawings of the worm within ! Whenever we have an opportunity of tracing the consequences that flow from a breach of the laws of God or Nature, we find those consequences terminate in suffering, moral or physical — generally both. This being the case, we may very safely conclude that such breaches always draw after them a penal infliction, whether that infliction be patent to the world or not. In respect to filial ingratitude, it is to be remembered no ECONOMY OF HEALTH that, in the great majority of instances, the ingrate is destined to receive its punishment when, in turn, it becomes a parent. Then, and often not till then, it feels the debt of gratitude which it owed, but did not discharge, to the authors of its being ! The penalty is paid in unavail- ing sorrow and repentance too late ! Nor does filial affection or grati- tude go unrewarded, even when not returned in the next generation. While memory remains, the consciousness of having done our duty to those who watched over our helpless infancy, will smooth the downward journey of life, and sustain us under the neglect or ingratitude of our offspring. Let these considerations induce mankind to foster, even were it only for their own sake, the filial love and kindness which the God of Nature has implanted in his constitution, and which cannot be vio- lated, without punishment in this world. With the consequences of the moral crime of filial ingratitude, in a future state, it is for the divine to deal. I have seen enough to convince me that part, at least, of our moral and physical punishments is inflicted on this side of the grave. And wisely, in my opinion, is it so ordained ! If rewards and penalties for moral good and evil were entirely postponed to a future stage of ex- istence, virtue would flag, and vice would flourish in a frighful degree ! If sin did not taste of sorrow — if the infraction of human laws only in- curred pain and suffering in the flesh, it is to be apprehended that our hopes and fears respecting that undiscovered country, whence traveller never returns, would lose much of their intensity. The Omniscient Creator foresaw this, and provided against it, by decreeing a foretaste of rewards and punishments that can neither be evaded nor misunder- stood ! And wise has been this dispensation ! With all the proofs be- fore our eyes of retributive justice, the laws of God and Nature are often enough violated by headstrong man, under the impulse of his ungo- vernable passions ! What would be the case then, were there no sen- sible, tangible, and unequivocal demonstrations of divine laws, and pro- vidential penalties, during our temporal existence ? The doctrine of future rewards and punishments would become a speculative philosophy, disregarded by the vulgar, and disbelieved by the learned ! To those who have a deep, or even a moderate insight into the nature of man, it must be evident that human laws cannot check a tithe of human delinquencies. Many of the most heinous sins, they do not even pretend to prevent — but only to punish, and that when too late. Take, for example, suicide. No human law can prevent a man from PUNISHMENTS IN THIS WORLD. Ill cutting his throat, or swallowing poison ; though it inflicts a dastardly ignominy on the corpse (which human charity generally frustrates) — or visits the sin of the guilty dead on the innocent survivor.* It may be objected to the doctrine I am preaching, that all crimes cannot receive even a portion of punishment in this world — for instance suicide. It may he answered, that suicide is very seldom a crime, be- cause it is generally committed during a paroxysm of insanity — in fact, it is usually the result of a corporeal malady to which the just and un- just are equally liable. But granting (which I willingly do) that self- destruction is sometimes a cool and premeditated act, unconnected with mental alienation ; is it to be inferred that the delinquent goes un- punished in this world ? He who comes to this conclusion has very little knowledge of human nature. The agonies experienced by a sane mind, before the desperate act of suicide is determined on or committed, are equal to any that we can conceive in the day of final retribution ! An extensive field of observation, indeed, has convinced me that the amount of mental misery, antecedent to suicide, in the sane mind, is generally sufficient, of itself, to produce the final paroxysm of alienation, during which the horrid deed is consummated ! But self-destruction is only the extreme link of a long chain of actions, each of which is a grade of the same thing — a breach of some moral or physical law of nature. Health is impaired, and life itself curtailed by a thousand actions which are not considered criminal, or at least very slightly so, as compared with suicide. The sufferings preceding or accompanying the dire act, are with more difficulty ascertained, than on most other occasions, because the individual is no longer able to throw light on the subject ; but as, in every case where the attendant circumstances can be investigated, we find perpetration and punishment as inseparable as substance and shadow, we may fairly conclude that the Divine Law reaches all grades and shades of guilt, even in this world, though human laws fail to visit a great proportion of evil doings. * A man insures his life for ten, twenty, or thirty years, to secure a sum for his widow or children. But, in a fit of temporary insanity, he commits suicide — and his widow or children are punished by the forfeiture of the policy ! In such cases the “ value of the policy” should be returned to the survivors — and some respectable Companies do so. I knew an instance, in the case of a clei'gyman at Kensington, who destroyed himself. The Crown Insurance Company returned the “ value of the policy,” an equitable composition calculated on fixed principles. 112 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. The same reasoning may apply to rewards as to punishments. Be- cause virtue, and merit, and talent are not apparently rewarded on this globe, it does not follow that they are not really so. If the wicked man carries a hell in his bosom, the virtuous may and does maintain a heaven in his breast. Of all rewards, here or hereafter, happiness must be the greatest — and we have the authority of the great Ethic Bard, as well as daily experience, that — “ Virtue alone is happiness below.” Even the hope of reward in another world, based on conscious recti- tude of conduct, and religious feelings, is in itself a reward beyond all estimation. It is an anchor in the storms of adversity — a consolation in the deepest distress into which man can sink in this world of care and suffering ! We have now brought man to the zenith of his mental and corporeal powers — to the highest arch — or rather to the two highest arches of the bridge of life, with the stream of time flowing silently under his feet ; his hopes undiminished — his ambition in full activity — and his prospects unclouded by the slightest shadow of doubt or despondency. On the contrary, it is all couleur de rose ; for love has, as yet, experienced no reduction of temperature in the human breast, but warms and stimulates to every noble action ! It is not unnatural that the historian of the phases of human existence should instinctively halt in this elevated region of the journey, and contemplate the past, the present, and the future, with intense interest. Thus, with delight, we linger to survey The promised joys of life’s unmeasured way : — Thus, from afar, each dim discover’d scene. More pleasing seems than all the past hath been ; While every form that fancy can repair From dull oblivion, glows divinely there ! Yes ! when we reflect that, at every step from this spot, the horizon behind us grows more obscure, however slowly, while the pleasures of hope and the dreams of imagination become gradually less vivid, human nature may well be excused for the attempt to stay the march of in- exorable Time, and, if possible, tarry, for a moment, on this highest point and brightest speck of existence, before passing the rubicon of life ! KNOWLEDGE. 113 The ** grand climacteric’' ought to have been placed at 42 instead of 63. The former period we may, however, denominate the " climax of life.” The path of man through the two meridian Septenniads — from 28 to 42 — hears some analogy to the apparent course of the sun at noon-day. For an hour before, and an hour after the meridian alti- tude, the naked eye cannot recognize the movement of the blazing orb : — the sextant only can determine whether he still ascends, or passes the zenith, and commences his downward journey. The gnomon of the dial alone can detect the otherwise imperceptible progress of the grand luminary, though his course is swifter than lightning and undeviating as fate ! It is so with man. When, in the prime of life, the stream of time appears to flow past him, without moving him onwards — though doubtless those physical changes are even then at work, which after- wards display their effects so conspicuously. Again ; as it is at the rising and setting of the sun, that the motion of the luminary is most sensible to the eye ; so it is in youth and old age, that the rise and fall of life is most remarkably perceptible. KNOWLEDGE. It is in the equatorial portion of the voyage or journey of life, that man mounts the tree of knowledge ; and, from its various outspread branches, endeavours to extend the natural horizon of his vision, catch glimpses of prospects that lie hidden from the eye at the foot of the tree, and which would almost seem to be designed by the Creator to remain for ever veiled from human scrutiny ! I might support this idea by Scripture. The fruit of the tree of knowledge was forbidden in the Garden of Eden, and the first taste of it — “ Brought Death into the world, and all our woe/’ But I will not insist on this authority, because such a procedure arrests all free inquiry. I am not aware that the punishment inflicted on our first parents for tasting the forbidden fruit, is extended to a repetition of the offence. None of our Divines, that I know of, consider the acqui- sition of knowledge as a crime at present. This, by the way, is rather remarkable. But as the state as well as the fate of man was changed by the fall, so, what was first a fault may now perhaps be a virtue. One thing is certain, viz. that the tree of knowledge has continued, till very lately, to be cultivated only in gardens, and its fruits to be tasted only by a few of the curious. At no period of the world, and in no Q ECONOMY OF HEALTH. nation of the earth, was this tree reared generally in field or forest. Among the Greeks and Romans, science and literature were confined to a very small portion of the population — and in the middle ages they may be said to have become extinct. The invention of the press gene- rated the power of diffusing knowledge throughout every gradation of society ; but it was not till the present time, that this power has been put into active operation. We have no means, therefore, of judging by past experience, of the effects which may result from a universal taste for knowledge and a general acquisition of that article which turned our first parents out of the Garden of Eden ! Hitherto it has been confined to certain classes of society, and those very small as compared with the community at large. The inferences which we draw from the effects of knowledge on small and isolated masses of mankind, must be very imperfect, and may be erroneous, when applied to a general diffu- sion of knowledge ; yet these effects are the only data from w r hich we can safely deduce any inference at all. The following corollaries are the result of some reflection, and no in- considerable observation. Some of them may be inconsequential — for, in fact, the premises are far from being firmly established. I. Knowledge (including the whole circle of arts, science, and litera- ture — every thing that is taught, and every thing that is learnt by man), like wealth and powder, begets the love of itself, and rapidly increases the thirst of accumulation. II. Knowledge being the parent of truth, as ignorance is the parent of error, these two powers must be in a state of perpetual antago- nism ; and, in proportion as the former (knowledge) becomes dif- fused, the strong holds of the latter (error) must be successively invaded and overthrown. III. But when w T e reflect on the countless multitudes, in every country, even the most enlightened, who are directly or indirectly interested in the perpetuation of error, whether in religion, politics, morals, legislation, customs, arts, commerce, arms — or science itself, w r e may calculate on a long and arduous struggle between knowledge and truth on one side, and ignorance and error on the other — a struggle that will not be terminated without many and dire col- lisions, not only of the morale , but also of the physique! Yet, however protracted the conflict, the final issue cannot be doubtful. KNOWLEDGE. 115 There are now no unknown regions, whence myriads of barbarians can again issue forth to extinguish the lights of literature, and des- troy the granaries of learning and the arts. Every year, day, hour, illumines some spot on the mental, as well as the material horizon, that had been shrouded in darkness since the Creation — and con- sequently narrows the boundaries of superstition, credulity, and prejudice. Every year removes a film from the mental optics of mankind, and shews them more clearly, the paths of truth, of justice — and of wisdom. IV. As the facilities of diffusing knowledge are daily multiplying, and as the avidity for information augments in a still greater ratio, no estimate can be formed, with any degree of precision, how deeply knowledge may yet strike its roots through the lower orders of society. It is not probable, indeed, that education, beyond its mere rudiments, can ever permeate the lowest orders of the com- munity, for very obvious reasons. But this exception will make little difference in the final result. The lowest and most illiterate class will always be led by those immediately above them — namely, the middle class. This class, comprehending numerous orders, genera, and species, will, in this country, influence, if not guide, the moral, physical, and political machine of government, infinitely beyond what can be conceived in any other country in the world. In these Islands, the great mass of wealth is deposited in the middle classes — but so generally diffused as not, by its agglome- ration, to check the stimulus to ambition, much less to industry. It will hardly be argued that native talent or capacity is confined to any particular class of society — or that it is likely to be deficient in the wealthy orders of the middle ranks. The diffusion of know- ledge, therefore, among these ranks, will generate and call forth such an amount of moral force as must operate on, if not direct the energies, physical and moral, of the nation. V. It is said, and truly, that “ love levels all distinctions.” Know- ledge has a very strong tendency to produce the same effect. None but a wild enthusiast will imagine that an equality in intel- lect, learning, wealth, rank, or power, can ever obtain in this world. But men of very sober intellects and extensive observation of mankind, can easily conceive that a much nearer approach to equality than now exists* may yet take place. If this propinquity 116 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. to an equilibrium should ever arrive, it will be through the agency of education — and its result — knowledge. It cannot be uninteresting just to glance at the probable way in which this moral revolution, hitherto conceived to be ideal, may be effected. Intellect can never be equalized by any human power. But it is, perhaps, more equal than the magnates of the earth are disposed to admit — and education will draw forth, and bring into the market, an immense supply which, at present, moulders in obscurity. Surmises of this kind may have been floating in the mind of Gray, when pacing the country churchyard. “ Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with Celestial fire ; Hands that the rod of empire might have sway’d. Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre : But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page. Fraught with the spoils of Time, did ne’er unroll ; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.” But talent, though not created, is much improved by culture, as the physical constitution is fortified by exercise. Even Intellect, then, will be much more equalized in a practical point of view, than at present, by the extension of education and the aggregate increase of knowledge. Learning. — It may be asked, why should not some men soar as far beyond their contemporaries in learning, when that learning is diffused, as when it was circumscribed ? The question may be easily answered. The augmented number of competitors will greatly equalize the claims of the candidates for literary or scientific fame. Suppose, out of a popu- lation of a million, there were not more than five hundred who had the means of cultivating literature or science with advantage. It is probable that, under such circumstances, a dozen or two would be pre-eminent, and that one would outstrip all the others. But suppose that Jive thousand out of the million, had all the facilities of distinguishing them- selves. It is extremely probable that fifty, or even five hundred, would be so nearly on a par, that no one would rise over the rest — velut inter ign&s Luna minores. We may have a literary monarch ; but we shall never have a monarch of literature. No. Letters will come back, in fact, to what they -were WEALTH . 117 originally in name — a Republic. The tendency to this state may be plainly recognized, even now, in various departments of learning and science. Let us instance the medical profession. We shall never again see a Harvey or a Hunter — a Baillie or a Cline — giants, who strode over the heads of their brethren of the day — monopolizers of fame or fortune — each a professional prophet, without a touch from whose magic wand, or golden caduceus, the spirits of the great could not, with dig- nity, descend to the shades below ! And why should we not have the race of these medical monarchs continued — these beacons — these colossi — these “ rari nantes in gurgite vasto ?” Because the diffusion of edu- cation has called forth an aristocracy, or rather a democracy of infor- mation, from which it is difficult to select any that are very much ele- vated above those of the same zone in which they move. The same remark will apply, with more or less force, to other professions and classes of society. There is a greater equilibrium of information among them now than there ever was before — and this explains why the Augustan age of England appears to have vanished. It is not because knowledge has decreased, and the giants of literature and science have dwindled into dwarfs ; but because the pigmies have sprung up into men, and the giants no longer appear of colossal stature by comparison. Their individual importance diminishes in proportion as their aggregate number augments. This will be more and more apparent every year. Wealth. — That education and knowledge lead, directly or indirectly, to wealth, needs no argument to prove. It is true that many indivi- duals, with scarcely the rudiments of knowledge, have amassed riches ; but it has been through low or mechanical avocations, where unwearied industry and rigid economy were the chief requisites. And even these individuals could never attain distinction, unless they acquired some de- gree of knowledge, during or subsequent to the realization of wealth. But what are these, when compared with those who have risen, by know- ledge and talent, from the lower ranks of life to fame and fortune ? The spread of knowledge, then, will annually pour into the field of compe- tition, whether in divinity, law, physic, commerce, art, or science, such multitudes of candidates as will minutely divide, and greatly equalize the golden harvests. In the general scramble, many will catch something, though few will catch much. As in the case of knowledge itself, wealth will not only be increased in the aggregate, but distributed through 118 ECONOMY OK HEALTH. wider circles of the community. No doubt it will still predominate in certain zones, but these will grow broader and broader — and they will present galaxies of the minor stars, rather than sparse and widely-dis- tant luminaries of the first magnitude. Even those mighty mounds of hereditary wealth, fortified, as they are supposed to be, by the impregnable ramparts of pride and primogeniture, will gradually diminish in size, and descend far below their present al- titude. Every year will increase the difficulties of providing for the younger branches of noble families, by the pressure of competition and the rigour of political economy. In such cases, the ties of nature will prevail over the laws of man — and the huge ancestral depots must dis- burse provision for the hungry descendants of ancient mansions. Rank. — It is very improbable that ranks and distinctions will be le- velled by education and knowledge. On the contrary, they are likely to be multiplied. But all other kinds of rank and distinction except what are attained by talent, integrity, and learning, will be depreciated in estimation. Hereditary rank or title, without wealth, cannot main- tain its ancient value, where education and knowledge prevail ; and we have just seen that wealth itself will be more and more equalized as ci- vilization advances. Even the circumstances alluded to, under the head of Wealth — the difficulties of providing for the junior offspring of the nobility — will tend, in some measure, to equalize rank, by annually de- taching great numbers of the younger scions of the aristocracy from the higher zones, and compelling them to enter the arena of competition, in various professions and avocations, with more humble, but perhaps not less able candidates for riches and reputation. Those great safety-valves — the army, navy, church, and state — through which the aristocratic redundancy used to escape so freely, and thus relieve the pressure on family finances, will henceforth be much narrowed by imperious eco- nomy and popular competition. In fine, wherever intelligence spreads deep and wide through a community, the power and privileges of the patrician will be abridged, and the franchise and influence of the ple- beian will be enlarged. An autocrat is a demi-god, or “ something more,” holding the destinies of his semi-civilized hordes, with power over life, limb, and property : — the constitutional monarch is only the first magistrate of a nation, without the power to make or break any of those laws which he is sworn to maintain and administer. FINAL RESULTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 119 The foregoing are matters of demonstration rather than of specula- tion ; but still the question may be asked — what will be the result of all this spread of education and knowledge, as respects the benefit or happiness of man ? Here we enter the region of imagination, for we have no real precedent in history to guide us. As I have observed be- fore, there never has been anything like a general diffusion of education and information, moral, scientific or political, in any nation, or at any period of the world. But we have some grounds for reasoning on the subject. We know that our Creator has given instinct to animals, which limits them to their specific functions and actions, during life, without the possibility of their deviating to the right, or to the left. The bee, the ant, and the beaver, constructed their habitations with as much skill, ten thousand, years ago, as at the present moment. But man has been endowed with reason, which enables him to improve — or, at all events, to alter his condition. Now, when we see such wis- dom and goodness in the dispensations of Providence throughout the whole Creation, is it likely that God should have given man the faculty of increasing in knowledge, almost without limit, for other than bene- ficent purposes ? — I cannot believe it. But there is no unmixed good in this world. The rains that fall from the heavens to fertilize the soil, often swell into torrents that leave nothing but ruin in their track. The winds that purify the atmosphere and waft our commerce from shore to shore, not seldom acquire the fury of the hurricane, and scat- ter destruction over earth and ocean. Notwithstanding all the be- nevolence and wisdom of the Almighty, as seen in his works, the great majority of animated beings, from the zoophite up to man, are not merely permitted, but destined to destroy their fellow-creatures, for the support of their own existence ! It is not, therefore, likely that such a boon as knowledge should be accorded to mankind, without a consi- derable alloy of evil.* All tendencies towards equality among mankind, * The Press is the great engine for the dissemination of knowledge — equal, per- haps superior, to the Schoolmaster — but it is a passive instrument, and may be worked, with equal power, for the distribution of evil as of good. When we calcu- late the amount of malignity in this world, as an active agent, and the extent of ignorance, as a passive recipient, we may well pause and meditate, before we strike the balance between the advantages and disadvantages of an unshackled and cheap Press. That the latter will be ultimately beneficial to mankind, I have no doubt ; but if it be not fraught with considerable evil, at first, this kingdom will be very fortunate. 120 ECONOMY OK HEALTH. beget discontent, jealousy, and insubordination, in a greater or less de- gree. It cannot well be otherwise, where there are numerous and al- most imperceptible gradations in society. Where there are but two grades — the high and the low — the patrician and plebeian — there jea- lousy will not so much obtain. We eye with composure the rank and station of the Monarch, the prince of the blood, or even the peer of the realm ; but we envy — we almost hate, the gradation of rank immedi- ately above us. The diffusion of knowledge will be the diffusion of an opinion — nay a conviction — that all men are naturally equal, and that talent, learning, and character, are the only natural distinctions. In such case, it is clear that the artificial distinctions of hereditary rank and wealth will be regarded with jealousy and discontent — and that there will be a perpetual nisus, or endeavour to level distinctions not founded on natural claims. That this attempt will cause a perpetual and powerful struggle and counteraction on the part of the privileged Orders (as they have been denominated), is most certain; and this con- test will last — for ever ! We may hope, and even believe, that it will be all for the benefit of mankind ; but, whether it be for good or for evil, it is inevitable ! We may as w r ell attempt to hurl back the stream of the Nile to the Nubian Mountains — the Rhine to the Rhcetian Alps — or the Ganges to the Hymalaya, as to stem the torrent of Knowledge, and turn it back into the stagnant lake of Ignorance. EQUIPOISE OF THE MAST E R - PASSION S , 121 SEVENTH SEPTENNIAD. [42 to 49 years.'] Seven times Seven ! Awful multiple ! This is the crisis of human existence ; for, however we may conceal it from others, or even from ourselves, the decline of life commences with the Seventh Septenniad. At that period, the tide of existence has swelled to its utmost volume, and its last and highest wave has left its mark on the craggy rock and the golden sands. It is true that, w r hile contemplating the ocean, for some time after the ebb-tide has commenced, we do not remark the sub- sidence of the waters — unless we watch the shores from which they recede. There we will perceive indubitable proofs of the turn of the tide. So it is with human life. For some time after the meridian of manhood, we recognize not the decadence of the stream — until we re- luctantly and sorrowfully remark certain changes for the worse, in our corporeal — perhaps also in our mental powers ! There are, even in this early period of declension from the meridian, certain admonitory pheno- mena that cannot be wholly overlooked by the most thoughtless indi- vidual. A grey hair will obtrude its unwelcome presence — and, if plucked out, will return soon, with half a- dozen companions! Pleasures of all kinds, but especially of a material nature, begin to lose something of their exquisite relish, and are succeeded by something more than mere satiety. Bodily exertions begin to be, not only curtailed in their range or amount, but the period of recruit becomes proportionally extended. Impressions on mind and body are less vivid. Our wine excites us less, and even the delights of conviviality and intellectual intercourse expe- rience a diminution of intensity ! It is in the Seventh Septenniad, too, that the three master-passions of the soul, love, ambition, and avarice — come nearer to an equipoise than at any other epoch. These passions are never, indeed, exactly equi-potent. One is always more powerful than either of the other two — sometimes stronger than both together. Thus, in youth, love pre- dominates — in manhood, ambition — in age, avarice. Still, it is in the Seventh Septenniad that the antagonism of the three passions comes nearest to an equilibrium. Ambition has, generally, the mastery. Love has lost much of his influence — and Avarice, under various masks, R 122 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. as domestic economy, desire of providing for a young family, &c. &c. begins to pull against the other passions, with augmenting force and confidence. Having once gained strength, this passion never quits the field till he overcomes, and finally extinguishes one or both of his anta- gonists ! It is towards the close of this Septenniad, also, that the grand cli- macteric of woman takes place. Forty-nine is an important epoch in female life — an eventful crisis, which often turns the balance between weal and woe — betwixt steady health and dangerous disease ! If wo- man passes this period unscathed, she stands a good chance of a serene and quiet descent along the slope of existence into the vale of years, where the last debt of Nature is to be paid ! But it behoves her to be on her guard during the whole of the Seventh Septenniad, and not to allow fashionable dissipation, late hours, and gossamer dress, to ren- der her grand climacteric the unfavourable crisis of her fate. PATKO-PROTEIAN MALADY. It is in the course of the present Septenniad — often sooner — some- times later — that mankind (including both sexes equally), of modern times, get introduced to a sinister acquaintance, that embitters many, if not most of the remaining years of their lives. It is a monster-malady of comparatively recent origin. No name, no description of it, is found in the records of antiquity — or even of the middle ages. It is clearly the offspring of civilization and refinement — of sedentary habits and intellectual culture — of physical deterioration and mental perturbation — of excitement and exhaustion — of the friction (if I am allowed such a term) of mind on matter, and of matter on mind ! It is not the pro- geny of intemperance, for our forefathers were more intemperate than we are. It is not the product of effeminacy, as far as indulgence in pleasure or idleness is concerned — for the present race is more worn down by labour and care, than by ease and dissipation. Though mil- lions have felt it, no one can describe it — though thousands have stu- died it, no one has been able to frame for it an accurate definition. And no wonder. It is a Proteus which assumes the form, and usurps the attributes of almost every malady, mental and corporeal, that has scourged the human race since the creation of the world ! But this is not all. It disdains the character of being merely an imitator. It P AT 11 0 -PR O IE 1 AN M VLAD Y . 123 takes on shapes and attitudes that have no prototypes in human afflic- tions. Nor need this excite surprise. We have imported, through the medium of our boundless colonization, the constitutions and maladies of the East and of the West, and incorporated them with those of our own. Every day and hour, the experienced eye can detect in the streets of London, the Hindoo features, blanched by our skies of their ochery complexion — the Negro nose and lips, deprived, by the same agents, of their original companions, the ^Ethiopian hue and woolly locks. These, however, would have been of little consequence, had we not imported with them, the bile and the belly-ache — the Hindostannee liver and the Caribbean spleen — the phlegm of the North and the choler of the South. In a country like this, where talent and industry — perhaps less estimable qualities also — are constantly forcing up the peasant and artisan into the baronetcy and the peerage — and where money and mercenary motives are perpetually mingling the blood of the plebeian and patri- cian, we cannot wonder at the hybrid births of strange and anomalous disorders, totally unknown in former times. The attempts to seize and imprison the fabled Proteus of old, were not more numerous or less successful, than those that have been made to trace the origin, ascertain the seat, and analyze the character of this Patho-Proteus, or multiform malady, of our own times. It has been attributed to the liver, the stomach, the spleen, the brain, the spinal- marrow, the nerves, the colon, &c. each physician drawing the Proteian fiend in the shape and hue which it most frequently assumed under his own observance. Hence its various designations. Indigestion, hepatitis, dyspepsia, nervous irritability, bilious disorder, hypochondriasis, &c. &c. have, each in its turn, been the name affixed to the infirmity. It is not difficult to discover the clue to this diversity of designations. The Patho- Proteian affliction is not perhaps, in strict language, an entity — a single disease sent down from Heaven, or springing from the bowels of the earth ; but rather a morbid constitution or disposition, produced by the various moral and physical causes above alluded to, and moulding numerous other maladies into its own semblance. Although the mul- titudinous causes of this evil must operate in a great variety of ways ; yet there are two principal channels through which it flows upon man and woman, much more frequently than through any others ; — namely, the brain and the stomach — but chiefly the former. The moral im- pressions on the brain and nerves are infinitely more injurious than the physical impressions of food and drink, however improper, on the sto- 124 ECONOMY OK HEALTH. mach. The multifarious relations of man with the world around him, in the present sera of social life, are such as must inevitably keep up a constant source of perturbation, if not irritation ; and this trouble of mind is not solely, or even chiefly, expended on the organ of the mind — viz. the brain, and its appendages, the nerves — but upon the organs of the body most intimately associated with the brain — namely, the digestive organs, including the stomach, liver, and bowels. Let us exemplify this. A man receives a letter communicating a piece of astounding intelligence-great loss of property, or death of a child, wife, or parent. The mind, the brain, the nervous system, are all agi- tated and disturbed. But the evil does not rest here. The organs not immediately under the will, or directly connected with the intellectual portion of our frame — the organs of digestion, circulation, nutrition, &c. are all consecutively disturbed, and their functions disordered. These corporeal maladies are those which naturally attract most the sufferer’s attention. He seldom comprehends, or even suspects, the nature and agency of the moral cause. He flies to physic — and it may very easily be conceived that he often flies to it in vain ! But it will probably be remarked that great events and disasters befall only a few, comparatively speaking — and those not often. This is true. But the multiplicity and frequency of minor evils are far more than equivalent to the intensity and rarity of the greater ones. Now those who are even moderately acquainted with the world, and with human nature, are w r ell convinced that there is scarcely an individual, from the meanest mendicant to the most absolute monarch, who does not daily and almost hourly experience moral vexations, perturbations, or dis- quietudes of mind, which sooner or later disturb the functions of the body !* In what, then, does the morbid constitution or disposition, the parent of the Proteian malady, consist ? This is no unimportant inquiry . The * The French Revolution produced whole classes of diseases — especially those of the heart. These are now rapidly multiplying from the excitement of politics. Ex- citement is a word not sufficiently expressive. The antipathy which exists now between people of different politics is such, that health is incompatible with its continuance. One half of the present violent and ultra politicians will assuredly die of disease of the heart, or of some great internal organ. Scarcely a day or even an hour — passes without my seeing exemplifications of this remark 1 If the votaries of political ambition could see with me a few of the effects of that ambition or even of that perturbation of mind attendant on political struggles, they would fly, in dismay, from the baleful contest ! PAT M O - P ROTE I A N MALADY. 125 nature of disorders may often be ascertained by the causes that produce them. These causes, in the present case, may be all, or nearly all, mar- shalled under four heads or representatives — anxiety of mind — intensity of thought — sedentary avocations, and plenary indulgence. The last but one includes, of course, deficiency of exercise. Now, although some of these, as intensity of thought, may improve the intellectual powers, they all, without exception, tend to weaken the body. But de- bility is the parent of irritability — and morbid or inordinate irritability, susceptibility, or sensibility, is the distinctive characteristic of the wide- spread malady under consideration. Thus, moral vicissitudes, troubles, or vexations, which, in a healthy and strong frame of mind and body, would make but a slight impression, will, under the influence of the Patho-Proteian constitution, so ruffle the temper and agitate the soul, that every function of the human machine will be disordered. This re- sults from the inordinate sensibility of the brain and nervous system generally. And although the great organs of digestion, nutrition, cir- culation, &c. are wisely removed from under the direct and immediate influence of mental perturbations from moral causes ; yet, unfortunately, they are destined to participate in the afflictions of their more intellec- tual associates, and suffer most severely in the conflict ! They are thus rendered highly susceptible, by moral evils, to the impression of physical ones. The digestive organs are almost the only internal organs which are daily and hourly exposed to the direct contact and agency of external matters. The introduction of atmospheric air into the lungs is the chief exception — if it be one. Now when we try to enumerate the variety of materials drawn from the animal and vegetable world for pampering the appetite of man — especially in highly civilized life — we are lost and bewildered in the fruitless attempt. A single glance round the shelves of an Italian warehouse, in Piccadilly or the Strand, must compel any one to admit that the powers of the human stomach are — prodigious ! The pickles and the preserves, the chillies and the condiments, the Scandinavian tongues and Westphalian hams — but, above all, the sausages of Bologna and Germany, would, alone, poison the vulture, the shark, and the jackall. Or, if they did not kill direct these natural gourmands, they would, most assuredly, people the air, the ocean, and the wild woods, with as exquisite dyspeptics — perhaps hypochondriacs — as ever paced St. James’s Street, or made the grand tour of Hyde- 126 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. Park, under the full influence of the blue devils. It may be true, that the stomachs of our ancestors were stronger than the gizzard of an ostrich. But it is certain that we, their degenerate offspring, have no such powers of digestion. On the contrary, the vast majority of mo- derns, high and low, complain that they cannot digest even the plainest food, without great and daily torment ! And how or why is this ? Because the nerves of their digestive organs, participating in the general irritability, susceptibility, or sensibility of the whole nervous system, cannot bear the presence of food, which man and animals, in a state of nature and strong health, can turn, with ease, into the blandest nutri- ment. It is well known to every physiologist that the great internal organs, the heart, liver, stomach, &c. perform their vital functions independent of the will, being supplied by the ganglionic nerves, a class entirely dis- tinct from those emanating from the brain and spine, which are under the guidance of the mind. These ganglionic organs not only refuse to tell us how they perform their operations in their hidden laboratories, but when they are at work. Thus, in a state of health, we have no conscious sensations from the vital functions of the circulation, respira- tion, digestion, assimilation, secretion, &c. The heart feels the presence of the blood, but keeps that feeling to itself. The lungs feel the influ- ence of atmospheric air, but gives the mind no intimation of such feel- ing. The stomach is alive to the presence of food, and performs the important task of digestion, but troubles not the intellect with any in- timation of its proceedings. And so of all the other internal organs. This is a wise provision of Nature ; or rather of Nature’s God. But intercourse between the two systems of nerves — the nerves of sense and the nerves of the internal organs — is not absolutely prohibited. They mutually correspond, in a state of health, without our consciousness, and still more, without pain or inconvenience. But let us over- educate, as it were — that is, let us pamper the digestive organs, for example, by unnatural stimulation ; — or, let these said organs be long and strongly associated, in sympathy, with excitement of the intellect, and its organ, the brain — and what is the consequence ? The stomach becomes, as it were, intellectualized — that is, denaturalized; — so that its sensibility rises from the organic or unconscious, to the animal or conscious state of feeling! Then it is that the process of digestion not only becomes cognizable to our senses — but exceedingly painful. PATHO-PR OT El AN M A LA T) Y . 127 When the stomach has thus acquired an additional sense — a sense properly appertaining to a superior organ, the organ of the mind — the owner of that stomach has incurred a penalty, which will require months or years for exoneration. He has over-educated an organ which would have performed its function much better in its pristine ignorance. It is like the cook who studies transcendental chemistry — and spoils the soup — or the tailors of Laputa, who cut their coats on philosophical prin- ciples, and never made them to fit any of their customers. The stomach has tasted the fruit of the tree of knowledge, presented by the brain — and both parties are turned out of the Garden of Eden, to suffer for their transgressions during the remainder of their lives ! Whether or not mutual recriminations took place between the first participators in guilt, I will not pretend to say. Such recriminations are the natural conse- quences of sin in our present state of existence. But, be that as it may, I can answer for this fact, that the stomach repays, with usurious in- terest, the injuries and sufferings which it has received from its con- temporary and co-partner — the brain. When the malady in question has attained to a certain extent, the stomach not only reflects back on the organ of the mind, a large share of those afflictions which it had sustained from that quarter ; but, in consequence of its extensive chain of sympathies with various other organs of its own class, as the liver, kidneys, bowels, heart — in short, the whole of those organs supplied by the ganglionic nerves — it weaves a tissue of disorders which no human skill can unravel — it constructs a labyrinth of infirmities through which no clue can guide us — it fills an Augean stable with evils, which few rivers, except that of Lethe, can cleanse away ! But the action and re- action of the organ of the mind and the great organs of the ganglionic system, one on another, are not the only hos- tilities carried on in this condition of the constitution. Let it be re- membered that the whole of the alimentary canal, from one extremity to the other, is studded with myriads of glands, whose secretions are under the influence of the nerves distributed to them. Now each minute filament of nerve participates in the general disorder of the great nervous centres — and the secretions of the smallest follicle are thus vitiated, and become the prolific source of new irritations reflected back on the whole nervous system, and ultimately on the mind itself. When the morbid circle of association between the mental and cor- 128 ECONOMY OP HEALTH. poreal organs and functions is once formed, it is extremely difficult to discover the starting-point of any one of the various maladies that pre- sent themselves, under such circumstances. For the sensations of body and mind springing from this source, there is no vocabulary. The pa- tient is unable to describe them — the practitioner to understand them ; and thus a whole class of them has got the appellations of “ vapours,” “hypochondriasis,” “ maladies imaginaires,” &c. Yet everyone of them has its corporeal seat, however moral or intellectual may have been its origin. Even those that appear to be purely mental, as monomania, spectral illusions, and general insanity itself, are dependent on, or con- nected with, some derangement of structure or function in the material fabric. I could prove this by numerous cases, but dare not lay open the secrets of the prison-house. One memorable case, however, which could not be concealed from the world, may here be adverted to, as an example. It is the case of the unfortunate gentleman who destroyed his life by Prussic acid in Regent- street, on the 22d November, 1835, and whose death caused a strong sensation at the time. This gentleman (Mr. Me Kerrell) had spent nearly 30 years in India — rose to a prominent station in the civil service of the Company — and realized an ample fortune. He returned to his native land, without much apparent injury of constitution, expecting, no doubt, to crown a youth of toil with an age of enjoyment. But the daemon of ambition crossed his path, and the reform bill opened a prospect which prudence or philo- sophy could not resist ! The British senate — that splendid meteor which has lured so many gallant barks into shoals and quicksands, drew this unfortunate victim from the enjoyment of competence, and the pur- suit of health and happiness, into the vortex of a contested election ! Paisley was to him what Pharsalia was to Pompey ! He went through fatigues of body and anxieties of mind that exhausted his strongest friends. But the issue was unsuccessful, and the event was tragical. From that time, the even tenor of his mind was lost, and his nervous system was unpoised. A strange illusion arose, and haunted his imagi- nation every second day. The secret struggled long in his breast — and was never revealed but to myself — and that under a promise of inviolable secrecy. The fabled horrors of heathen hells were trifles compared with the tortures which this poor wretch endured — and that without the smallest particle of moral guilt ! For some time, the illusion appeared to be a reality — at least on the REMARKABLE CASE OF MONOMANIA. 129 alternate days — but, afterwards, he became satisfied, on the good days, that it was a phantom, having no real existence but in a disordered ima- gination. Still later, he became sensible that he laboured, on alternate days, under monomania, or partial insanity — and this reflection added one more, and a very poignant, sting to his accumulated miseries ! His sufferings were of two kinds — bodily and mental. He awoke every second morning, under a pressure of horrible feelings, which he could neither account for, nor describe ! Common pain, though of the most excruciating kind, would have been gladly accepted in lieu of these terrible sensations. With these was associated the illusion, which ne- ver, for a moment, during the whole of that day, ceased to torture his imagination and blast his sight by its scowling form ! The day was an age of agony. Night and sleep brought a temporary oblivion of his woes — and he awoke the next morning, free from the illusion, and com- paratively free from the indescribable morbid feelings of the body. But contemplation on the past, and anticipation of the future, rendered life but little desirable, though his religious and moral feelings always re- pudiated (so he alleged) the idea of suicide. The history of this case would furnish materials for a tragical romance, founded, in every par- ticular, on fact — if the term romance could be properly applied to such a narrative. Worn out by mental horrors and corporeal miseries, this most pitiable gentleman put an end to his sufferings, on the day of the illusion, by taking nearly two ounces of prussic acid. He left such unequivocal testimonies of a sound mind behind him, in the shape of written docu- ments and oral communications, on the day of his decease, that a verdict of felo-de-se would have, assuredly, been pronounced by a Coroner’s jury, had I not stepped forward and proved the infirmity of the deceased. I revealed not the nature of the illusion — the only point of secrecy en- joined by my patient — but I preserved a property of seventy thousand pounds from sequestration, and warded off a moral and religious stigma from the memory of the dead. The examination of the body, after death, disclosed some of the most remarkable phenomena that were ever witnessed on dissection. The whole history and post-mortem inspection have been laid before the me- dical profession, through the proper channels. It may suffice to men- tion here, that there is a pair of nerves in the body (the par vagum) holding intercourse between the seat of intellect and the great involun- 130 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. tary organs of the chest and abdomen, viz. the heart, lungs, stomach, &c. Though it rises in the brain (the organ of the mind) it is distri- buted to various internal organs that are not under our control. It is, therefore, a great intermediate agent of communication between the soul and the body — in other words, between mind and matter. On this nerve had formed a concretion, of stony hardness, with jagged points, as sharp as needles — growing and piercing into the substance of the nerve itself ! — All the organs to which this most important nerve distributed its in- fluence, were more or less diseased. The disorders of these organs, and of the nerve itself, had, no doubt, re-acted on the brain, and thus pro- duced the illusion of the mind.* But it may be asked, why, if the causes were permanent, should the effects be periodical ? The case is remarkable, but by no means singu- lar. There are many similitudes in medical science. The malaria of the fen is inhaled every day, yet produces an ague only every second day. It is the same with many other agents, as well as their disorders. But the chief reason for the introduction of this melancholy case is yet to be stated. All the organic changes, including the concretion on the pneumo- gastric nerve, must have existed for many years — long be- fore this gentleman returned to Europe, and yet without producing much inconvenience. At the Paisley election he tired out some of his most powerful friends, in excessive labour of body and mind ; conse- quently, his health could not have been much impaired at that time. But the moral causes had not then come into play, and the physical ones were in abeyance. No sooner, however, did ambition take possession of the mind, than the train was laid for the explosion of bodily, as well as mental disorder. Blighted hopes, disappointments, and losses, called into fatal activity diseases which might long have remained quiescent — and from the date of the unsuccessful contest, the tenor of the mind was broken — to be ultimately wrecked in suicide ! The present case, though an extraordinary one in some respects, is exceedingly common in others. Physical, that is, bodily disorders, are either called into existence, or into activity, by mental disquietude, so generally, that the rule becomes almost absolute. Re-action of the * Had I time — or rather had I talent — I could construct a second Frankenstein from the history of this case — without any fiction — without any of the preposterous supernaturalities of that famous romance. RELIGIOUS MONOMANIA. 131 body on the mind is, no doubt, frequent ; but the body suffers more often from the mind, than the mind from the body. And when mind is afflicted by matter, it is generally where the corporeal frame has first suffered from moral miseries. Religious monomania may be ranked amongst the most dire afflic- tions of humanity. It is, according to my observation, more frequent in females than in males, and is not confined to any age. I have seen instances of it under the age of twenty-four years. We can generally trace it, especially in women, to the enthusiastic harangues — for they hardly deserve the name of sermons, — delivered by visionary, fanatic, and ultra- evangelical preachers. These personages, who take upon them- selves to — “ Deal damnation round the land,” do more mischief than they are aware of. They too often represent the omnipotent and benevolent Deity — the Creator and maintainer of the Universe — as an inexorable judge, visiting the slightest foibles or failings of frail mortals, with everlasting punishment of the most horrible kind ! Upon the sensitive minds of weak females these fearful denun- ciations, ex cathedra , make a most powerful impression, and not seldom impair the seat of reason ! A nervous and sedentary female, for in- stance, fixes upon some real or imaginary delinquency of her life, and, by dwelling upon it, soon magnifies it into an enormous sin — and ulti- mately into guilt of an unpardonable character ! Then come — horrors, despair, and desperation — terrores magicos, portentaque Thessala ! She represents herself, even to her friends, as a reprobate who is placed beyond the pale of mercy, and condemned to everlasting tortures in the world to come ! This one consideration absorbs all others. No topic but this can engage her attention for a moment, and it is per- fectly useless to reason with her, or attempt by arguments to divert her reflections from this doleful subject. This wretched state lapses generally into premeditations on suicide — too often into the fatal act itself! It is not a little curious that the individual, who fancies her- self doomed to unutterable tortures and indescribable punishments af- ter death, should yet desire the termination of existence, and even anticipate Nature by self-destruction ! It would seem, in these cases, that the mere contemplation of an imaginary evil was worse to bear than the real evil itself! Hence the wretched monomaniac rushes on death, the consummation of his miseries, rather than live in per- petual apprehension of them ! — I have known a young lady starve her- 132 ECONOMY OF. HEALTH. self to death from religious monomania — another fall into fatal atro- phy — and a third take poison — all under the firm conviction that their sins were unpardonable, and that they were doomed to eternal punish- ment ! There are many instances on record, where the monomaniac lacks courage to commit suicide, or cannot make up the mind as to the means of accomplishing it : — under which circumstances, they have committed capital crimes, with the view of being capitally punished. It behoves parents to ponder on the kind of religious instruction which their pastors impart to their children — especially to sensitive females. It is not my wish or my province to trench on the confines of the metaphysician — much less of the divine ; but, as a physician, I may perhaps be permitted to express my conviction that religious discourses were not intended to excite and inflame the imagina- tion, but to improve the judgment, control the passions, and check the evil propensities of human nature — and all this by representing the Deity and the Redeemer as beneficent and merciful — not as stern and relentless judges of frail humanity ! Those extravagant and phrenzied harangues from the pulpit which throw the female auditory of the pews into hysterics or ecstacies, are conducive to any thing but happiness on earth — whatever may be their influence on our state or condition beyond the grave. Many are the instances which I have seen of their pernicious consequences on the health, the intellects, and the peace of mind of most amiable individuals here below. I have already observed that when religious monomania has seized the human mind, it is almost entirely useless to reason with the unhappy victim. The organ of the mind, or some other corporeal structure with which the brain sympathizes, has become disordered, and it is to that we must direct our attention chiefly. Moral means and soothing treat- ment combine with, and indeed are part and parcel of, the most rational and successful physical management of the insane, whether the mental derangement be partial or general. — But to return from this subject. Ambition then — that ardent desire, that incessant struggle to be, or to appear, greater than we are — or what others are, adds its powerful quota to the sum total of causes that produce the PATHo-Proteian scourge. Ambition is not bounded to any particular rank, or confined to any par- ticular classes, but pervades every ramification of society. It is not en- tirely extinguished in servitude or beggary ! I am inclined to think that it does not diminish, but rather that it increases, as we descend along the scale of rank and wealth — at least to a certain extent. AMBITION A CAUSE OF THE PATHO-PROTEUS. 133 The wife and daughters of the jolly butcher in Bond- street, have not less ambition to outshine, in chintz and China, the wife and daughters of their opposite neighbour, the cheesemonger, than have their aristocratic customers, in Grosvenor- square, to out-flank and rout their fashionable friends, in the columns of the Morning Post. In fine, throughout every link in the vast chain of society — from the court and the cabinet, down to the counter and the cottage — this worst species of ambition is to be found ! It drugs the cup of enjoyment which is at our lips, infusing into it a thirst for that which is not in our pos- session. This thirst, it is true, carries with it its own immediate punish- ment — because few can have it slaked; but the ulterior sufferings entailed on the victims of ambition, are of a deeper die, and graver grade — the dire inflictions of the Proteian malady ! These, however, are evils of our own seeking or of our own creation. But, in the present state of civilization and refinement, there are hosts of others which we cannot or will not avoid. The cares of families — the difficulty of providing for our offspring — the heart-burnings occasioned by the waywardness of children — and the thousand anxieties which in- trude themselves, independently of any misconduct on our own parts, are now multiplied to an incalculable extent, and have already introduced new and undescribed miseries and maladies, that are constantly on the increase. There are numerous causes of this modern scourge, which cannot well be classed under the heads of either the morale or the physique. They partake of both. Such, for instance, are the habits and pursuits of a people. In this country, commerce and manufactures preponderate over agriculture and pasturage — and therefore sedentary, predominate over ac- tive habits. The factory and the counting-house are not only more un- healthy, in a physical point of view, than the hills and the vales, but they are much more detrimental to the moral constitution of man. The labour is thrown on the head and the hand — and that in bad air — rather than on the body and legs, under the canopy of Heaven. This dif- ference contributes largely to the support of the Proteian malady— especially when aided by the competition of trade, the animosity of poli- tics — and the rancour of religious bigotry. These and various other moral and physical agents have unfortunately increased since the termination of a long and sanguinary conflict with the common enemy, during which, internal dissentions were swallowed up in national enthusiasm, and re- 134 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. dundancy of population was kept in check by the waste of war ! Peace, therefore, with all its blessings and comforts, is not without its alloy. Our gigantic struggles with foreign foes, are now transmuted into fierce contentions between opposing factions. Every evil passion is enlisted in this domestic strife. The forum, the bench, the hustings — nay, even the pulpit — pour forth, like volcanos, the destructive elements of discord, hatred, and animosity, among all ranks and classes of society ! Under these circumstances, is it wonderful that we should have new maladies, the products of new causes ? It would be wonderful if we had them not ! I have not attempted a description of the Patho-Proteian evil, be- cause, as was stated before, it is not an entity in itself, but rather a morbid state of constitution, which mixes itself up with almost every other disease, assuming its form — influencing its character — and modi- fying its treatment. This last is a purely medical subject — at least in detail — and is discussed by many authors as well as myself in the pro- per places. But I have pointed out the chief causes (moral and phy- sical) of the evil; and this may guide the individual to avoid them. The very specification of the causes of a malady suggests the chief remedies, or, at all events, the best means of avoiding it. The pith of nearly all that has been written on hygiene, or the pre- vention of diseases — and of the Proteian disorder among the rest, might be included under two heads — almost in two words — temperance and exercise. But temperance means much more than mere moderation in eating and drinking. It comprehends moderation in all our pleasures and enjoyments, mental and corporeal — it prescribes restraint on our passions — limitation of our desires — but, above all, coercion of our am- bition. Our physical wants, like the trade-winds, vary not materially, in di- rection or force ; not so the passions. They are the tempests of life, which too often set at defiance the sails and the rudder of reason — driv- ing the vessel upon shoals or quicksands — and ultimately wrecking her altogether ! I am not trenching on the province of the divine, in these remarks. I allude only to the effects of the passions on health and happiness — and not on the concerns of the immortal soul. The heathen philosopher (Plato) may have carried the idea too far, when he traced all diseases of the body to the mind — but assuredly, as tar as my observation goes PLEASURES OF THE TABLE- ■“ FEAST OF REASON.” 135 — and it has not been very limited — a great majority of our corporeal disorders spring from, or are aggravated by, mental perturbations. This point cannot be too strongly urged, or too often repeated by the physi- cian who treats of the prevention of diseases — and especially of the Pa- tho-Proteus which has been here noticed. But, at the same time, it would be wrong to pass over the various miseries resulting from the “ pleasures of the table.” The intellectual and sensual banquet has too many charms for soul and body, not to lead into almost daily excess, every class of society, from the savage to the sage ! Even here, the immaterial tenant seduces its material tenement into woful sufferings. We hear a great deal indeed of “ the feast of reason and the flow of soul — but, for my own part, I have too often observed this intellec- tual festival to take place where — “ Malignant Chemia scowls. And mingles poison with the nectar’d bowls.” It is more curious than consolatory to scrutinize, with philosophic eye, the workings of turtle, champagne^ and conviviality, on those finer fa- culties with which metaphysicians have invested the immortal principle of man. Without diving into these mysterious and perhaps dangerous investigations, I shall only remark that every faculty of the mind, as well as every function of the body, comes under the influence of the abovementioned material agents, and in a manner that is well worthy of investigation, in regard to the immediate subjects of this Essay — HEALTH and HAPPINESS. In this “ feast of reason,” as it is called, which is generally ac- companied by food of a grosser kind, we find the energies of the mind called forth — one would almost say, created — where they were previ- ously dormant. Sallies of wit and humour — sentiments of noble phi- lanthropy, exalted morality, and even fervent religion, spring forth at the festive board, which lay in abeyance till that hour ! It is then that friendship opens her heart — the miser his purse — bigotry widens the circle of its charity — the debtor forgets his creditor — the creditor for- gives his debtor — the slave breathes the air of freedom — penury becomes possessed of temporary, or at least ideal wealth — and, stranger still, riches are invested with momentary happiness ! Are these remarkable phenomena of the mind unconnected with, or independent of, any corresponding phenomena in our physical organi- zation ? Far from it ! Savoury viands and generous wines stimulate 136 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. the material organs, accelerate the circulation, and call forth the mere animal spirits, before they elicit the intellectual corruscations. And as excitement of the body produces excitement of the mind, so passions of the mind kindle up excitation in the corporeal fabric. On the stage and at the bar, passion is more frequently feigned than felt ; but in the pulpit and the senate, religious fervour and political disputation will call forth the most violent agitation of the body through the medium of the mind. Painting, poetry, music and oratory, cannot raise emotions in the mind, till they have first excited certain nerves of sense, and, through them, the very brain itself — the organ or instrument of the mind. This is the grand consideration, as far as health and happiness are concerned. It establishes this important axiom — little understood or attended to by mankind at large — namely, that whenever the stream of life, whether moral or physical, mental or corporeal, is accelerated in its course, be- yond the normal or medium current, it must experience a corresponding retardation, in turn — and these inequalities in the speed of the stream must inevitably damage, sooner or later, the banks between which it is enclosed. There is not an axiom in physic or physiology more certain than this — that the even tenor of the stream prolongs life, preserves health, and maintains happiness ; while, on the other hand, the strong excitements, w’hether of body or mind, afford temporary enjoyment, at the expense of permanent sufferings. It is true, that the elasticity of youth and health renders the penalties of indulgence short at the begin- ning, and amply repaid by the pleasure of the feast, whether intellec- tual or corporeal. But the periods of enjoyment gradually shorten, while those of pain are protracted, till at length a balance is struck, that awakens the delinquent to a frightful survey of the real condition in which he is placed! It is then, in general, too late to retrace our steps! Now the besetting sin of the present generation is not that of intem- perance in eating and drinking — but rather in that of reading and think • ing. And why is this ? When the intellectual powers are much exerted, the physical powers, and more especially the powers of the digestive or- gans, are weakened. Hence, we have neither the relish for gluttony and inebriation — nor have we the ability to bear their effects. Add to this, that the exercise of the rational faculties dissuades from intemperance, independently of its withdrawing the power of indulging in it. In rude states of society, where the higher functions of the mind are but little employed, the sensual gratifications of the palate and stomach constitute CAUSES OF MODERN TEMPERANCE. 13 / the principal pleasures of life — and the organs being strong, these plea- sures are exquisitely enjoyed, and borne with comparative facility. The coal-heaver, on the banks of the Thames, whose brain is nearly as inert as the sable load under which his muscles crack, will drink ten or twelve quarts of porter, besides gin, in one day, and go home as sober as a judge at night. But let the judge himself, whose active brain absorbs all energy from his muscles, try this experiment ! Here, then, is the true solution of the problem — the real causes why the present generation are more temperate than their ancestors — namely, disrelish for, and inability to bear intemperance, as compared with those of the olden time. But the effects of intemperance have not diminished in proportion. On the contrary, they have multiplied prodigiously. What was ultra-abstemiousness a hundred years ago, would now be des- tructive excess. The habits and manners of the hardy Highlander in the days of Waverly and the wassail bowl, would ill suit the natives of Glenco and Tobermorey in the present day. Tea, politics, and . steam, have wonderfully impaired the digestive organs of the Celt and Sasse- nach laird since the days of Bradwardine and Tully-veolan, though some of their descendants appear to have, even yet, their stomachs lined with copper, and proof against the fiery impressions of the most potent Glenlivet ! Thus, then, a nervous temperament — a morbid sensibility — per- vades the whole frame of society, more or less — a supersensitiveness that inflicts pains and penalties on trifling and occasional indiscretions, which used formerly to be levied only upon habitual and excessive in- dulgence ! There are many millions in this country, to whom food is physic, of the bitterest kind — and to whom physic is as daily indispen- sible as food ! To the luxurious epicure it may seem incredible that, within the boundaries of the British Isles, there are millions, among the opulent classes, who would give half their wealth to be able to do with- out food altogether— who would gladly give up the pleasure of eating, for an immunity from the misery of digesting . Incredible as this may seem, it is nevertheless, strictly true.* * The sister of the celebrated Mrs. Siddons (Mrs. Whitlock) died under the care of the Author, from starvation, without its attendant sufferings of hunger and thirst. An aneurismal enlargement of a vessel in the brain, pressed upon the origins of two particular nerves the eighth and ninth — those which give power to speech, swal- lowing, and digestion. The consequence was, an inability to speak, to swallow, and T 138 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. I wish I could state, consistently with truth, that the punishment falls exclusively on the intemperate — that the gourmand is the only victim, in the end, of indigestion, and all its indescribable horrors. But I am com- pelled to aver that this penalty falls far more frequently on the innocent than on the guilty — on those who labour with their heads, for the good of society, rather than on those who consume the fruits of the earth in luxury and idleness — on the unfortunate far more often than on the of- fender ! And now we have approached the den of the dragon — the favourite haunt of the Proteian fiend ; for, whatever may have been his origin, whether moral or physical, intellectual or corporeal — the stomach and digestive organs are selected as his head-quarters. There he sits, con- cealed, like the spider, weaving his web of mischief, forming his lines of communication, and establishing his chains of painful sympathy between every tissue and structure of the human fabric ! If other maladies do not assail the constitution, the Proteian enemy is ever ready to assume their forms, and harass his victim with incessant alarms ; — if they do, he sel- dom fails to join as a powerful auxiliary, and add poignancy to every sting of the principal assailant ! The discrimination between the real and the imitating malady is, in fact, the most difficult task of the phy- sician. So accurately does the sympathetic affection enact the part of the idiopathic, that the most experienced — the most talented practitioner is very often deceived !f The Patho-Proteus will so closely imitate functional disorders, and even organic diseases of the heart, the brain, the lungs, and every other to digest. Fortunately the paralysis of one of these nerves (the eighth) prevented the sense of hunger — and though this unfortunate lady lived five weeks after the failure of swallowing was complete, she suffered not from either hunger or thirst ! During all this time, the faculties of the mind, and the other functions of the body were unaffected. She was 76 years of age. f Hysteria is a form which the Patho-Proteus is very prone to assume in females of modern times ; and, under this guise, will simulate almost every disease, whether of internal or external parts. The celebrated Dupuytren, of Paris, was one day walking through the wards of a London hospital. His attention was attracted to the case of a young and pallid female, who had white-swelling of the knee, to which the nurse was applying leeches. He examined this patient, and pronounced that the white-swelling was hysteria, and that valerian and steel would be more beneficial than leeches and blisters. His diagnosis was fully verified by the event ! This remarkable species of simulation is well known to experienced practitioners. Sir B. Brodie and others have distinctly described it in their writings and lectures. SYMPATHETIC EFFECTS OF THE PATHO-PROTEUS. 139 internal viscus in the body, that the young practitioner is often deceived, and the old puzzled. With many of the agents which have imposed this nervous tempera- ment, this supersensitive character, on our constitutions, in this age of civilization and refinement, we are acquainted — and they have been already mentioned ; but with the manner in which they have effected this change — with their mode of operating — we know as little as we do of the modus operandi of gravity or magnetism. We recognize, too painfully, many of their effects — perhaps some of their laws. Thus, when this nervous temperament is established, we find that food and drink, which ought to produce no sensation, or, if any, a pleasurable one, cause a sense of discomfort, or even of actual pain in the stomach. This fact at once proves, not only that the sensibility of the nerves of the stomach is exalted, but that it is morbidly exalted. That the diges- tive powers of the stomach are also weakened, is demonstrated by two phenomena — first, that the digestive process is protracted as well as painful — and secondly, that it is imperfect also, as shewn by the food running into the acetous fermentation, which augments — perhaps often is the cause of, the uneasy or painful sensations which we experience. But if the distress occasioned by painful and protracted digestion were the only evil — and it is no trifling one — the sufferer would have great cause to be thankful. The nerves of the digestive organs sympathise so freely and so universally with the nerves of all other organs and parts of the body, that not a single structure or function of the human fabric escapes, at one time or other, from participation in the misery of the part first affected. And even this is not all. Corporeal pain is much more easily borne than mental anguish. The disorders of the body, and especially those of the digestive organs, very soon involve the functions of the mind — and then we have a train of phenomena still more inscrut- able and agonizing ! The irritation resulting from food undigested in the stomach, or from the decompositions into which that food runs, in- duces the most surprizing and afflictive symptoms to which humanity is subject. The following extract from a work which I published more than ten years ago, may be introduced here, in illustration of what I am stating. “ In some cases, where this poisonous secretion lurks long in the upper bowels, the nerves of which are so numerous and the sympathies so ex- tensive, there is induced a state of mental despondency and perturbation 140 ECONOMY OK HEALTH, which it is impossible to describe* and which no one can form a just idea of, but he who has felt it in person. The term * blue devils’ is not half expressive enough of this state ; and, if my excellent friend. Dr. Marshall Hall, meant to describe it under the head ‘ mimosis inquieta,’ he never experienced it in propria persona ! This poison acts in different ways on different individuals. In some, whose nervous systems are not very sus- ceptible, it produces a violent fit of what is called bilious head-ache, with excruciating pains and spasms in the stomach and bowels, generally with vomiting or purging, which is often succeeded by a yellow suffusion in the eyes, or even on the skin. Severe as this paroxysm is, the patient may thank his stars that the poison vented its fury on the body instead of the mind. Where the intellectual faculties have been much harassed, and the nervous system weakened and rendered irritable, the morbid secretion acts in that direction, and little or no inconvenience may be felt in the real seat of the offending matter. The mind becomes sud- denly overcast, as it were, with a cloud — some dreadful imaginary or even unknown evil seems impending ; or some real evil, of trifling im- portance in itself, is quickly magnified into a terrific form, attended, ap- parently, with a train of disastrous consequences, from which the mental eye turns in dismay. The sufferer cannot keep in one position, but paces the room in. agitation, giving vent to his fears in doleful soliloquies, or pouring forth his apprehensions in the ears of his friends. If he is from home, when this fit comes on, he hastens back — but soon sets out again, in the vain hope of running from his own wretched feelings. If he happen to labour under any chronic complaint at the time, it is im- mediately converted (in his imagination) into an incurable disease ; and the distresses of a ruined and orphaned family rush upon his mind and heighten his agonies. He feels his pulse, and finds it intermitting or irregular — disease of the heart is threatened, and the doctor is sum- moned. If he ventures to go to bed — and falls into a slumber, he awakes in the midst of a frightful dream, and dares not again lay his head on the pillow. This state of misery may continue for 24, 36, or 48 hours ; when a discharge of viscid, acrid bile, of horrible fetor, dissolves at once the spell by which the strongest mind may be bowed down to the earth, for a time, through the agency of a poisonous secretion on the intestinal nerves ! Or it may go off without any evacuation of offend- ing matter, leaving us in the dark as to the cause of such a train of distressing phenomena. I believe such a train of symptoms seldom ob- SYMPATHIES BETWEEN BODY AND MIND. 141 tains, except where there has been a predisposition to morbid sensibility, occasioned by mental anxiety, vicissitudes of fortune, disappointments in business, failure of speculations, domestic afflictions, too great labour of the intellect, or some of those thousand moral ills, which render both mind and body so susceptible of disorder.”* This, however, is a paroxysm or storm, which soon blows over, and we have a longer or shorter interval of quietude. A much -worse con- dition is too often the fate of the victim of “ morbid sensibility.” The nerves of the digestive organs sympathise so extensively and inti- mately with those of all other organs and parts of the body, that the seat of suffering is generally placed far remote from the seat of its cause. The head, the heart, and other distant parts, are far more fre- quently referred to by the individual, than the stomach or bowels, where the evil originates ; and to these localities remedies are, of course, in- effectually directed. Here lies the difficulty of discrimination ! And if the longest experience and most patient investigation are frequently deceived, what must be the case in the routine practice of the fashionable physician, who flies, on burning wheels, from patient to patient, pre- scribing for symptoms ! But even these corporeal sufferings, bad as they are, constitute but a small share in the sum total of afflictions resulting from this nervous temperament — this morbid sensibility of the human constitution, in- duced by modern civilization and refinement ! The Patho-Proteian fiend too often flies at nobler quarry than the material organs. He can paralyze the energies of the mind as readily as the torpedo benumbs the feelings of the body. Would that this were all ! But the sting of the fiend carries with it poison as well as paralysis ! In this state of sub- lunary existence, the faculties of the soul are so entwined with the functions of its material tenement, that one class cannot be acted on, without the other being affected. This is a general rule. But the nervous temperament, the morbid sensibility, to 'which I now allude, ex- ercises a peculiar, a predominant influence over our moral sentiments. It is well known, and universally acknowledged, that irritation in the stomach and bowels will frequently induce temporary insanity — and especially those violent paroxysms that lead to suicide. If it be admitted (it cannot indeed be denied) that the malady in question is capable of Essay on Indigestion, 9th Edition. J42 ECONOMY OK HEALTH. subverting reason entirely, for a time, how can we resist the inference that, in milder grades, it perverts the feelings, the affections, the passions — in one word, the temper of the individual ? Temper is perfectly well understood by every one — yet it cannot be defined by the most subtle metaphysician. It is said to be good — bad — gay — sulky — irritable — phlegmatic — irascible — peevish — placid — quarrelsome — imperturbable, &c. involving all kinds of contrasts, and consequently rendering all de- finitions nugatory. Johnson gives seven different definitions of temper. One of them (the first) will be sufficient here; viz. “ due mixture of contrary qualities.” Metaphysicians have not always been the best versed in the knowledge of human nature. How could they, indeed, when we see that they studied but half the subject — the mind and not the body ? The con- sequence has been, that many qualities, dispositions, and propensities have been attributed to the mind, which belong to the body and only affect the mind secondarily. Thus temper, for example, is, by most peo- ple, looked upon as a quality of mind, whereas it is solely one of the corporeal constitution. It is, in fact, temperament, which must be material. If this were not true, how is it that a man’s temper is often entirely changed by a severe illness ? Does the mind or soul change thus ? Not at all. The constitution — the health of the body alters — and the temper with it. This view of the subject offers no apology for non-restraint of our temper, passions, and propensities, by means of our reason. On the contrary, it holds out the strongest incentives to em- ploy the moral power in coercing the physical evil. If tempers and passions belonged exclusively to the mind, the mind could not control them, no more than the body itself could control its own temperament. As temper and passions then are attributes of the grosser part of our nature, it is for the immaterial and immortal agent to quell, or at least to restrain them. But let it be observed that the greatest exertions of the mind will not be always able to control completely the passions or temper of the body, without material assistance. All the reasoning in the world will not be adequate to counteract the effects of disordered digestion on the mental faculties, without laying the axe to the root of the tree — without striking at the corporeal origin of the evil. — Thus a man is affected with depres- sion of spirits, hypochondriasis — or even delusion on a particular subject — monomania. He is told to exert his reason, and thus to dissipate his HYGIENE EXERCISE. 143 vapours. His reason may enable him to bear his sufferings with greater patience, but it will not remove the malady. And here I would ask, if insanity itself be purely “ mental derangement,” why it is that the metaphysician, whose province it is to treat of mind, is not called in, to decide the question of sanity or insanity of mind, and also to guide the treatment ? How is it that the physician, whose business is with the body, is selected to judge of the unsoundness of the mind, and to bring it back from its aberrations ? It is because theory and practice do not quadrate on this point. The truth is, there is no such thing as pure mental derangement. The disease is in the body — its symptoms appear in disordered manifestations of the mind. And it is through the medium of the corporeal organs and functions that we can hope to remedy it. We hear a great deal, indeed, of the moral treatment of the insane. This moral management is proper ; but when accurately analyzed, it will be found that its agency is directly or ultimately felt by the corporeal functions, and thus its chief remedial influence is exerted. Take, for example the mild and soothing system of managing the insane, during a paroxysm, as contrasted with the harsh and coercive means which were formerly employed. What are the physiological effects ? The nervous excitement is lulled — the vascular action is diminished — and the maniacal orgasm is, of course, abridged. In what does this treatment differ from that which is pursued in other diseases ? In fever, gout, or inflammation of the heart, if we irritate the morale of the patient, will we not do great mischief? — and will we not mitigate these diseases by soothing and quietude ? — In short, the whole of the moral treatment, in any and every case, resolves itself, at last, into corporeal results or effects, through which the cure or alleviation is consummated.* This reasoning will hold good throughout the whole chain of moral infirmities, from insanity, at the head of the scale, down to the most trifling irritability of temper. Every link in that vast chain is depen- * Insanity, like gout and some other disorders, is acknowledged to be hereditary. Is the mind or soul hereditary ? If it be derived from our parents, immortality is a dream ! No, no. The soul’s tenement only is transmitted from generation to generation, and with it many of its maladies. The immortal spark is derived from Heaven, the same in every subsequent as in the first creation. It would appear to me a sound, or, at all events, a rational doctrine, to consider evil dispositions as attached to the fallen or mortal part of man, — the soul or immortal part, being responsible in another state of existence, for the duty of controlling and preventing the deeds of the flesh in this world. 144 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. dent on some corporeal disposition or disorder, and is only to be broken by a combination of moral and physical remedies. — Reason, morality, and, above all, religion, will curb, though seldom cure, the minor grades of the evil ; but the highest link in the chain, in which the reasoning powers themselves are subverted, defies moral remedies, and requires the aid of physical agents. HYGIENE; OR PREVENTION. Enough — perhaps more than enough, has been said on the nature and causes of the Proteiform Malady — the offspring and curse of ad- vanced civilization and refinement — the punishment which knowledge and improvement inflict on a redundant population ! But the reflec- tions and observations which I have made will not be valueless to the reader, if duly considered. In portraying the causes of the malady, I have, in fact, indicated the chief preventives, or even the correctives — without naming them — and that in a far more effectual manner than by detailing a long catalogue of specific remedies. This latter course, in- deed, would be inappropriate in a work of this kind, designed for general perusal. I have already remarked that the essence of hygiene, or pre- vention of disease, consists in temperance and exercise. Of the first I have spoken enough — and took care to extend the meaning of intem- perance to more indulgences than those of the table. Every one who has honoured these pages with perusal, must have appreciated the va- lue which I attach to corporeal exercises ; but the subject is one of such vital importance, in regard to health and happiness, that a short, but special disquisition on it, will not, perhaps, be deemed superfluous from the pen of one who has studied it with unusual care, and noted its influence on an extended theatre of observation. In the first phases of human life, exercise of the body is positive plea- sure, and the want of it is little less than actual pain. The muscles of early youth are so imbued with an exuberance of vitality, that quietude is irksome, and this exuberance is joyfully, as well as profitably expen- ded in active exertion. In the advanced stages of existence, on the contrary, the muscles lose their aptitude for motion — the sinews their elasticity — and then rest is little short of sensible pleasure. In the mid- dle stages of man’s journey on earth, when exercise produces neither pain nor pleasure, it is, nevertheless, necessary to health — but it is at HYGIENE EXERCISE. 145 this period that it is too much neglected. Various causes are assigned for this neglect — and various excuses (some of them valid, others not) are made by different individuals or classes. Our sedentary habits and mental pursuits disincline, and, in some measure, disqualify us for stre- nuous bodily exertion — but this is a strong argument for early and re- gular resistance to the growing propensity. “ Crescit indulgens sibi dims hydrops.” And so does the indulgence of indolence increase the disposition to in- action. Many people, with reason, aver that they have no time for exercise. The Coan sage begins his aphorisms with this remarkable expression : “ Ars longa, vita brevis” — which virtually means, “ our labours are many, but our days are few.” The aphorism is correct ; but the inference drawn from it is often wrong. It is not by dedicating all our hours to labour, repose, and sleep, that we shall effect most achievements, whether intellectual or mechanical — consistent, at least, with health. Parsimony is not always economy ; and he who ab- stracts a certain portion of time from his usual mental or corporeal avocations, and dedicates it to simple exercise of the body in the open air, will reach the goal of his ambition sooner — or, at all events, more safely, than he who considers all time lost, which is not spent in the specific avocation or pursuit in which he is engaged. I am well aware that thousands — nay millions, are so circumstanced, that their daily wants demand the daily waste of their health and strength ! This is particularly the case with females ; and affords an additional reason for our sympathy and kindness to the more amiable, as well as the most industrious (I had almost said oppressed ) half of the human race ! Any exercise, however mechanical or partial, as in the various kinds of manufactures or handicrafts, is better than no exercise at all of the body. Throughout the extensive Bureaucracy of this country, in- cluding many of the learned and scientific professions, labour is thrown almost exclusively on the head — and it is not of the most cheerful kind. The benefits of corporeal exercise, and the injuries resulting from its neglect, are by no means generally understood. We are told, indeed, that exercise strengthens the muscles, and the whole body ; — and, on the other hand, that indolence debilitates. This is a very imperfect view of the subject. If strength was the only salutary result of exercise — and if debility was the only consequence of its desuetude, little would u 146 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. be gained by the one, or lost by the other, comparatively speaking. But there are other consequences of a far more important nature. The brain and the nervous system furnish a certain quantum of excitability to the muscles, and to all the various organs and structures of the body ; — and this excitability ought to be expended in the exercise and operations of these various parts — if health is to be insured. But if, on the one hand, this sensorial power or excitability be expended on mental exer- tions, the other, or corporeal organs, must necessarily be deprived of their stimulus, and their functions languish, as a matter of course. Hence the innumerable disorders of those who work the brain more than the body ! The remedy cannot be found, in this class, by forcing the body to exercise, after the brain and nervous system are exhausted. Bodily exercise, under such circumstances, will only do injury. They must curtail the exertions of the mind and increase the exercise of the body. But there is a large class of society, where neither the mind nor the body is exercised. In the higher grades, there is a portion who, of course, have no avocation or pursuit, mental or corporeal, and where indolence and ennui bear sway. In the lower ranges, a few muscles, indeed, as those of the hands and fingers, are daily exercised ; but the mind is either little concerned in these minute manipulations, or it is exercised in thoughts by no means conducive to moral or bodily health. In these two classes — and they comprehend an immense number of the existing human race, in the civilized world — the excitability of the brain and nervous system accumulates, for want of expenditure, and soon passes into irritability — the bane and misery of millions ! ! — An il- lustration of this accumulation, as far as the body is concerned, must be familiar to every one who has travelled for twenty-four hours in a stage- coach, and experienced those most disagreeable sensations known by the term “ fidgets,” and arising from the confinement and inactivity of the limbs, without the power or space for stretching them. The ana- logy extends to our mental, as well as to our physical organization. Muscular exercise, wdiether in high or low life, carries off and prevents an accumulation of excitability, and consequently of irritability, and thus conduces, in a very marked manner, to health of body and tran- quillity of mind. Want of exercise, especially when combined with mental exertion, disturbs the equilibrium of the circulation, and causes the blood to accumulate more in some organs than in others. Thus BEN K FIT OF EXERC ISE. 14 / the brain is the great sufferer ; hence the headaches, confusion, loss of memory, giddiness, and other affections, so common among sedentary people. The liver, from its peculiarly languid circulation, is the next most common sufferer. The vital current stagnates in the venous sys- tem of the biliary apparatus, and inert or bad bile is the consequence. This deranges the whole of the digestive organs, and through them al- most every function of mind and body. Nothing can prove a complete substitute for exercise, whether active or passive, in the prevention of these numerous evils. Exercise equalizes the circulation, as well as the excitability, and thus checks the disposition to congestion and irritability. It is well known that one impression, whether mental or corporeal, will often supersede another, or at least weaken it. This principle is often available in the treatment of that class of human infirmities which we are now considering. If the individual's circumstances will permit him to engage in any pursuit that may occupy his attention and exercise his body, it will prove one of the most powerful means of counteracting the original cause of many of his sufferings. Unfortunately there are but very few, whose circumstances will permit them to embark in any new pursuit. Yet it is in the power of a great many to engage in a systematic exercise of the body, in some mode or other, if they will only summon resolution to make the experiment. The languor and listlessness attendant on the disorder are great obstacles to this plan ; but they should be urged to it by all the eloquence of their medical attendants. Some caution, how- ever, is necessary here. The debility and exhaustion which supervene on the most trifling exertion deter most people from persevering, and therefore, the corporeal exercise must be commenced on the lowest pos- sible scale, and very gradually increased. Thus, a person whose seden- tary occupations confine him to the house, might begin by going once to the top of the stairs the first day, twice the second day, and so on, till he could go up and down the same path many times each day. It is wonderful what may be accomplished in this way by perseverance. I have known people, who could not go up a flight of steps without pal- pitation and breathlessness, acquire, in one month, the power of running up to the top of the house, with scarcely any acceleration of the pulse or respiration. If this kind of ascending and descending exertion, how- ever, is feared, the individual may adopt the plan recommended by Mr. Abernethy, of walking to and fro in the room with the windows 148 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. open. If the exercise can be taken in the open air, it will be still better, and the quantum may be gradually increased by twenty or thirty steps daily. This task, which should be represented as an infallible remedy in the end, must be performed at first when the stomach is nearly empty ; and when an increase of muscular power is acquired, it maybe performed at any time — even within two hours after dinner. Those who can en- gage in any of the lighter gymnastic exercises, should be urged to it by every kind of persuasion, especially in the cool seasons of the year. These are means within the reach of almost all — and the advantages to be derived from such a system are incalculable. By this systematic ex- ertion of the body, with spare diet, most cases of dyspepsia might be completely cured among the middling and lower classes of society. But there is a large class -whose morale has been too far spoiled— whose education has been too refined — and whose senses have been too much pampered, to benefit by such simple means. There must be some incentive to corporeal exertion stronger than the foregoing plan presents ; and moral excitement must be combined with physical agency, if we hope to carry our projects into beneficial operation. That the long catalogue of dyspeptic and hypochondriacal complaints is much more frequently the inheritance of the affluent than the indigent, there can be no doubt ; and yet the former class have a remedy in their power which is infinitely more efficacious than all the other moral and physical means put together, but which they rarely take advantage of — or, when they do embrace it, they seldom go the proper way to work. This is travelling in the open air. In the course of a wandering life (over almost every part of the globe), I have had many opportunities of studying and ascertaining the effects of travelling on different diseases ; but, on four different occasions within the last fourteen years, I made one of parties, whose sole object was the trial of a plan which I had devised for recruiting health. It may not be wholly uninteresting to those whom it may concern, if I offer a concise sketch of the plans which were pursued in these instances. FIRST TOUR OF HEALTH, IN 1823. [ France , Switzcrlatid, Germany, and Belgium.'] Six individuals, three in health (domestics) and three valetudinarians (one a lady), travelled, in the months of August, September, and October, TOUKS OF IIKALTH. 149 1823, about 2.500 miles, through France, Switzerland, Germany, and Belgium, for the sole purpose of health, and such amusement as was considered most contributive to the attainment of that object. The experiment was tried, whether a constant change of scene and air, combined with almost uninterrupted exercise, active and passive, during the day — principally in the open air — might not ensure a greater stock of health, than slow journeys and long sojourns on the road. The result will be seen presently. But, in order to give the reader some idea of what may be done in a three months’ tour of this kind, I shall enumerate the daily journeys, omitting the excursions from and around those places at which we halted for the night, or for a few days. Our longest sojourn was that of a week, and that only thrice — at Paris, Geneva, and Brussels. In a majority of places, we only stopped a night and part of a day, or one or two days, according to local interest. But I may remark that, as far as I was concerned, more exercise was taken during the days of sojourn at each place, than during the days occupied in travelling from one point to another. The consequence was, that a quarter of a year was spent in one uninterrupted system of exercise, change of air, and change of scene, together with the mental excitement and amusement produced by the perpetual presentation of new objects — many of them the most interesting on the face of this globe. The following were the regular journeys, and the points of nightly repose : — 1, Sittingbourn — 2, Dover — 3, Calais — 4, Boulogne — 5, Abbe- ville — 6, Rouen — 7, Along the banks of the Seine to Mantes — 8, Paris, with excursions and perambulations — 9, Fontainbleau — 10, Auxerre — 1 1 , Vitteaux — 12, Dijon, with excursions — 13, Champagnole, in the Jura Mountains — 14, Geneva, with various excursions — 15, Salenche — 16, Chamouni, with various excursions to the Mer de Glace, Jardin, Buet, &c. — 17, Across the Col de Balme to Martigny, with excursions up the Vallais — 18, By the Valley of Entrement, &c. to the Great St. Bernard, with excursions — 19, Back to Martigny — 20, Evian, on the Lake of Geneva, with excursions — 21, Geneva — 22, Lausanne, with excursions — 23, La Sarna — 24, Neuf-Chatel — 25, Berne, with excursions and perambulations — 26, Thoun — 27, Valley of Lauterbrunen, -with various circuits — 28, Grindenwalde, with excursions to the Glaciers, &c. — 29, Over the Grand Scheidec to Meyrengen, with excursions to waterfalls, &c. — 30 By Brienz, Lake of Brienz, Interlaken, and Lake of Thoun, wdth various excursions, to the Giesbach and other waterfalls, back to 150 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. Thoun — 31, Beme — 32, Zoffengen — 33, Lucerne, with various excur- sions — 34, Zoug and Zurich — 35, Schaffhausen and Falls of the Rhine — 36, Neustad, in the Black Forest — 37, By the Valle d’Enfer to Offen- burgh — 38, Carlshrue, with excursions — 39, Heidelburg — 40, Darmstadt — 41, Frankfort on the Maine, with excursions — 42, Mayence, with ex- cursions — 43, Coblenz, Bingen, Bonn, &c. — 44, Cologne — 45, Aix la Chapelle, with excursions — 46, Liege — 47, Brussels, with a week’s ex- cursions — 48, Ghent and Courtray — 49, Dunkirk — 50, Calais — 51, Dover— 52, London. Thus, there were 52 regular journeys during the tour, and 32 days spent in excursions and perambulations. And as there never was so much exercise or fatigue during the journeys, as during the days of sojourn and excursions, it follows that the whole of this tour might be made with great ease, and the utmost advantage to health, in two months. As far as natural scenery is concerned, it would, perhaps, be difficult to select a tract, which could offer such a succession of the most beautiful and sublime views, and such a variety of interesting ob- jects, as the line which the above route presents. It would be better, however, to dedicate three months to the tour, if the time and other circumstances permitted, than to make it in two months ; though, if only two months could be spared, I would recommend the same line of travel, where health was the object. Perhaps it would be better, how- ever, to reverse the order of the route, and to commence with the Rhine, by which plan the majesty of the scenery would be gradually and pro- gressively increasing, till the traveller reached the summit of the Great St. Bernard or Mont Blanc. The foregoing circuit was made, as far as the writer is concerned, entirely in the open air ; that is to say, in an open-carriage — in char- a-bancs — on mules — and on foot. The exercise was always a combina- tion or quick succession of the active and passive kinds, as advantage was always taken of hills and mountains, on the regular journeys, to get down and walk — while a great part of each excursion was pedes- trian, with the char-a-banc or mule at hand, when fatigue was expe- rienced.* This plan possesses many advantages for the invalid, over * The writer of this has little hesitation in averring, that he walked full half of the whole distance which was traversed in this tour : that is, that in a quarter of a year he walked twelve or thirteen hundred miles. TOURS OK HEALTH. 151 the purely active or purely passive modes of travelling. The constant alternation of the two secures the benefits of both, without the incon- venience of either. As the season for travelling in Switzerland is the hottest of the year, and as, in the valleys, the temperature is excessive, so, great danger would be incurred by the invalid’s attempting pedes- trian exercise in the middle of the day. But by travelling passively in the hot valleys, and walking whenever the temperature is moderate or the ground elevated, he derives all the advantage which exercise of both kinds can possibly confer, without any risk to his health. The journeys on this tour varied from 20 to 50 or 60 miles in the day, and were always concluded by sunset — often much before that period. The usual routine of meals was, some coffee at sunrise, and then exer- cise, either in pdPambulations, excursions, or on the first stage of the day’s journey. At noon, a dejeuner d la fourchette, and then immedi- ately to exercise or to travel ; concluding the journey and the exercise of the day by dinner at 8 o’clock at the table-d’hote, where a company, of all nations, varying from 10 to 50 or 60 people, were sure to assem- ble, with appetites of tigers rather than of men. By ten, or half-past ten, all were in bed, and there was seldom a waking interval from that time till six in the morning, the punctual hour of rising. In this circuit, we experienced great and sometimes very abrupt vicis- situdes of temperature, as well as other atmospheric changes ; but, as will be presently seen, without any bad consequences. — Before I give any exposition of the moral and physical effects of this kind of exercise, I may be permitted to premise, that I made it one of my principal studies, during the whole course of the tour, not only to investigate its physiological effects on my own person and those of the party (six in number), but to make constant enquiries among the numerous and often intelligent travellers with whom I journied or sojourned on the road. Many of these were invalids — many affected with actual diseases — a considerable proportion had had dyspeptic complaints previously — and all were capable of describing the influence of travelling-exercise on their mental and corporeal functions. What I am going to say in the sequel, on this subject, therefore, is the result of direct personal experience and observation, in Europe, and in almost every quarter of the globe, un- biassed by any preconceived opinions derived from books or men. I am not without hope that my observations will be of some service to the physician as well as to the invalid, by putting them in possession of 152 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. facts, which cannot be ascertained under any other conditions than those under which they were investigated in the present instance, or under similar circumstances. SECOND TOUR, Through France , Switzerland , and Italy, in September, October, Novem- ber, and December, 1829. 1, Dover — 2, Calais — 3, Montreuil — 4, Granvilliers — 5, Paris (with excursions) — 6, Fontainbleau — 7, Joigny — 8, Montarbe — 9, Dijon — 10, Auxonne — 11, St. Laurent — 12, Geneva (with excursions) — 13, Vevay (by Lausanne) — 14, Martigny — 15, Tourtemagne, intheVallais — 16, Village of the Simplon — 17, Baveno, on the Lag* Maggiore, with excursions to the Islands, &c. — 18, Sesto Calende, on the Ticino — 19, Milan, with excursions and perambulations — 20, To the banks of the Po, opposite Piacenza, and back to Milan, the bridge being broken down — 21, Pavia, with perambulations — 22, Piacenza — 23, Bologna (through Parma and Modena), with excursions and perambulations — 24, Caviliajo, on the Apennines — 25, Florence, with excursions and perambulations — 26, Sienna — 27, Radicofani — 28, Viterbo — 29, Rome, with various perambulations and excursions — 30, Velletri — 31, Mola di Gaeta — 32, Naples, with various perambulations, and excursions to Pompeii, Her- culaneum, &c. &c. — 33, Terracina — 34, Rome — 35, Aquapendente — 36, Florence — 37, Impoli — 38, Pisa, with excursions — 39, Sarzana — 40, Sestri, on the Mediterranean shore — 41, Genoa, with perambula- tions — 42, Finale — 43, St. Remo — 44, Nice, with perambulations — 45, Antibes — 46, 47, 48, 49, to Lyons (day and night by the Diligence) — 50, by vrater to Chalons — 51, 2, 3, 4, to Paris, by Diligence — 55, 56, Calais — 57, Dover — 58, London. In this second tour, then, there were 58 days spent in regular jour- neys, and about 40 days in perambulations. The space traversed in this tour amounted to about 3500 miles, and, with the exception of eight or ten days, it was entirely in the open air, and a considerable proportion of it pedestrian, especially in mountainous parts. As compared with the former tour, I would say, that Switzerland and Germany are more conducive to the health of the body — Italy to the pleasures, or at least the excitement of the mind. In other words, I would say that the first tour is more adapted for the Invalid — the second, for a person in a con- TOURS OF HEALTH . 153 siderable degree of health. The Italian excursion, in fact, was under- taken rather as a relaxation from the “ wear and tear” of Modern Babylon, than as a means of restoring lost health. The renovation, however, of physical energies was not less apparent nor real on this, than on the former tour. I may be permitted to instance a few inci- dents, illustrating the immunity which this kind of exercise confers on travellers, when exposed to vicissitudes of climate and malarious im- pressions. The transition from the valley of the Rhone to the summit of the Simplon is not inconsiderable. We slept one night at Tourtemagne, in the Vallais, and found it very sultry. The next night we slept in the dreary Hotel de la Poste, in the village of the Simplon, among snow and ice, without the least inconvenience, much less detriment. It is in Italy, however, that the transitions of temperature, and other atmospherical alternations, are most severely felt, especially by invalids who are inca- pable of taking strong exercise, or who dare not expose themselves freely to the open air in all weathers. The change of climate from Bologna to the summit of the Apennines, though not so abrupt as that from Sion to the village of the Simplon, is perhaps more trying to the constitution. It was exceedingly hot all the way up the Apennines, and night as well as a storm overtook us before we got to our solitary inn at Caviliajo — “ the scene of one of those deep-laid confederacies for plunder and assassination, of which Italy has always been a prolific theatre.”* Notwithstanding the tales of banditti and the pelting of the storm, we slept securely, and started at day-light next morning, to pursue our journey down to the romantic Val d’Arno, and that without catching either cold or rheumatism. But although regular exercise fortifies us much against atmospherical transitions, or even malaria, yet, if carried to fatigue, it has rather a contrary efifect. An instance may not be uninstructive, especially to travellers. I shall transcribe it from my notes on this tour. Having arrived at Sienna about two hours before night, and having only that time to see the place, I jumped from the carriage, without taking any note of the hotel where w r e stopped, and wandered, as was my custom, through all parts of the city, till long after it was dark. At length, fatigue, cold, and hunger reminded me of their antidotes ; but, not * Rome in the 19th century. X 154 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. knowing the name either of the street or the hotel where we had halted, I was forced to wander about full another hour before I was able to re- join my companions. I should not have mentioned this trifling incident, were it not on account of what followed, and which often follows fatigue and exposure to night air in Italy. We started at day-break, and, as the sun rose, and indeed for two hours afterwards, the whole country presented the appearance of a placid lake, studded w T ith small islands, each crowned with a town, village, convent, or castle. This phenomenon is occasioned by a dense fog, which covers the valleys, and looks like a sheet of water, leaving the tops of the hills free, and on which almost the whole of the towns, vil- lages &c. are built. The air was remarkably raw — and, about half-way between Sienna and Buono Convento (a road where malaria notoriously prevails), I experienced the premonitory horrors of an ague-fit, and the first or cold stage of the “ foul fiend.” The fatigue and exhaustion of the preceding evening had doubtless predisposed me to this attack; and those who have felt the horrible depression of spirits attendant on an attack of malaria fever, can appreciate the feelings which rushed across my mind, under the expectancy of being laid up on the dreary moun- tain of Radicofani, with some serious or fatal malady ! Fortunately the day became very hot — I walked up two or three of the steep moun- tains on this road — passed at once from the stage of shivering to that of perspiration — and baulked the malaria of Buono Convento. The as- cent to Radicofani is five tedious Italian miles. The evening was set- ting in, as we dragged our weary way up the mountain — the cold was intense — the scenery was that of desolation and despair. So loud did the Tramontane winds howl through every chink and chamber of the dreary caravansera on this mountain, that I could not help regretting the removal of old Vulcan’s smithery from a place where a blast of his forge would be so rich a treat to the shivering traveller. The narrow escape from malaria fever, to which I was predisposed by the fatigue above-mentioned, was entirely forgotten the next day, on entering the holy territory of the Pope — surveying the romantic scenery about Aquapendente, the Lake of Bolsena, Montefiascone, and Viterbo, which was the next night’s place of repose. It is not, perhaps, in the northern, the Alpine, and the Apennine portions of fair Italy that atmospherical transitions are so tiying, as in the apparently more favoured regions of that fairy land — for instance, TOURS OF HEALTH. 0£> about Naples. There the Tramontanes, alternating with the Sirocco, pro- duce the most remarkable effects' on the human constitution. It might be said without much exaggeration, that in Italy almost every breeze comes over a volcano or an iceberg — and, consequently, we are alter- nately scorched by the one and frozen by the other ! I shall ever remember the debilitating — almost annihilating, effects of a Sirocco at Naples. It was far worse than the hot land-winds at Madras or Viza- gapatam in the month of May ! On the coast of Coromandel, the land-winds are dry, however hot ; but the Sirocco, as it sweeps over the Mediterranean from the burning sands of Africa, saturates itself with aqueous vapour, and is then poured in boiling steam on the shores of Italy. The depressing effects of this Sirocco are indescribable. After dragging my weary limbs through all the streets of Naples, during a whole day of this furnace-blast from Lybia, I started at day-light next morning for Pompeii, and that under a most piercing blast of the Tra- montane. Yet no injury was sustained by a day’s exposure to the chil- ling blast — on account of the seasoning produced by nine or ten weeks of previous, and almost perpetual motion in the open air. The consciousness of security against atmospherical transitions and malarious impressions, has often led me to do, in travelling, what I should be very sorry to do under other circumstances — and which, indeed, would not be very wise under any circumstances. Take the following for an example. We started from Terracina, a little before sunset, in a carriage very badly calculated for four, but compelled by the villainous courier of the Pope (for which I hope he has never received absolution) to hold an additional passenger, in the shape (if shape he had) of his own pot-bel- lied son, besides baggage and luggage enough to load a caravan. No- thing but the philosophy of observing the Pontine Marshes at night, could have induced me to bear, with any degree of patience, the infer- nal breath of the father and his urchin, between whom I voluntarily placed myself to give some invalid companions all the accommodation which their health and sufferings required. But patience has its bounds, and at the end of the first stage I got on the outside of the coach, rather to breathe the deleterious gases emitted from the fens, than inhale the mephitic airs generated within this infernal cauldron. The atmosphere was still as the grave — the moon shone faintly through a halo of fogs — and a dense vapour rose in all directions around us, emitting the 156 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. most strange and sickly odour which I ever experienced on any part of the earth’s surface. Under other and ordinary circumstances, I should have felt some alarm at thus exposing myself to the full influence of nocturnal emanations from the deadly marshes over which we were passing ; but a consciousness of the life which I had led for three months, inspired me with complete contempt for any morbific influence which air or earth could direct against me. I crossed the fens in this philo- sophic mood, while the courier of St. Peter kept the windows of the coach closely shut against the dangerous malaria of the night. I would not advise others to imitate this rash conduct on my part. Many have paid dearly for their curiosity — and myself among the rest — if not on this, on various other occasions. THIRD TOUR. Home Circuit, 1832. 1, 2, 3, The steamer to Edinburgh — 4, Newhaven to Stirling, by steam — 5, Callander — 6, The. Trosacks — 7, Loch Katrine, Loch Lo- mond, Dumbarton — 8, Greenoch — 9, By the Kyles of Bute to East Tarbet — (excursion by the Crinan Canal, to the Corrivrechan, &c. &c.) — 10, Inverary (with excursion) — 11, Dalmally — 12, By Loch Awe to Oban — 13, To Tobemorey — 14, StafFa, Iona, Oban — 15, DunstafFnage, Glen-Etive, Ballahulish — 16, By the valley of Glenco, Black Moor, &c. to Tyndrum — 17, Tyndrum to Killin — 18, Kenmore, by Loch Tay — 19, Dunkeld — 20, Killicrankie — 21, Inverness, with various excursions to Kraig Phsedric, &c. — 22, Caledonian Canal — Fall of Fyers, &c. — 23, Fort William — 24, Oban — 25, Inverary, across Loch Awe — 26, To Loch Lomond — 27, Glencroe — 28, Glasgow — 29, Ailsa, (excursion) — 30, Lanark, Falls of the Clyde — 31, Gretna Green — 32, Carlisle — 32, 33, 34, English Lakes — 35, 36, Liverpool — 37, Manchester — Rail-roads - — 38, Birmingham — 39, 40, 41, Leamington — Kennilworth, &c. — 42, Cheltenham, with excursions, &c. — 43, London. Thus this highland excursion occupied 43 days of travelling, and about 28 days of sojourn or excursions. Two delicate females accom- panied me, and were exposed, on various occasions, to great incle- mencies of weather, vicissitudes of temperature, rough fare, sometimes to wet beds, and, during the whole tour, to the epidemic cholera. But TOURS OF HEALTH. 157 the constant exercise in the open air set at nought all diseases and all the causes of disease. The travellers came back to Modern Babylon, in prime health, and without ever thinking of bodily disorder.* Exer- cise, and especially travelling exercise in the open air, effects for our constitutions what Mackintosh does for our cloaks — it renders them air- tight and water-proof. And here I would offer a piece of advice to some of my countrymen and countrywomen, who spend a great deal of time and money in the neighbourhood of Cavendish Square and Dover Street, swallowing large quantities of peptic precepts and blue- pill, under Drs. A. B. C. &c. — a class of people who contrive to imagine real ills till, at length, they realize imaginary ones : — the advice is, to go to the Highland mountains, for change of complexion as well as change of air. They will there find water enough to “ raze out the written troubles of the brain” — and air enough to disperse the “ green and yellow melancholy” that hangs upon their countenances — and ex- ercise sufficient to transform their spermaceti muscles into something like youthful and elastic fibre. Let these victims of morbid sensibility — perhaps of morbid fancy, traverse the Highland mountains for a couple of months, and they will learn to prefer oat-cake to calomel, whiskey to senna draughts, and grouse to gruel. FOURTH TOUR OF HEALTH, 1834. Holland — Germany — Switzerland — Italy, &>c. Nights of repose. 1, The Batavier steamer — 2, Rotterdam — -3, Ley- den — 4, Amsterdam — 5, Utrecht — 6, Rotterdam — 7, Nymeguen — 8, On the Rhine — 9, Cologne — 10, Coblenz — 11, Mayence — 12, Carlshrue 13, Baden-Baden — 14, Offenburgh — 15, Villengen — 16, Schaffhausen — 17, Zurich — 18, Rapperschyll — 19, By the Lake of Wallenstadt, to Sargans — 20, Pfeffers — 21, Coire — 22, Village of the Splugen, by the Via Mala — 23, Chiavenna, by the Pass of the Splugen — 24, Round the Lake of Como, in the steamer, to Como — 25, By the Lake of Lugano, to the town of Lugano (dreadful storm, 27th August, and detained seven hours at the edge of the Lake) — 26, Bellinzona — 27, Attempt to ascend * Vide the Recess, or Autumnal Relaxation in the Highlands and Lowlands. By James Johnson, M.D. Octavo. 158 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. the St. Gotliard, but the bridges destroyed, and obliged to return back to Bellinzona — 28, Luvino, on the Lago Maggiore, among a den of rogues and bandits, who imposed on and cheated us — 29, Across the Lago Maggiore, to ascend the Simplon, which was destroyed in various places — 30, Novarra, in Savoy — 31, Chiavassa — 32, Turin — 33, Suza, at the foot of the Mont Cenis — 34, Across the Mont Cenis, on tempo- rary bridges, to Lans le Bourg — 35, Grand Maison, in the Valley of the Arc — 36, Chamberry — 37, Frangi — 38, Geneva — 39, By the Lake to Lausanne — 40, Morat — 41, Berne — 42, Balstall — 43,. Basle — 44, Freyburg — 45, Achern — 46, By Carlshrue to Bruchal — 47, Heidelberg — 48, Darmstadt — 49, Mayence — 50, Coblenz — 51, The Brunnens — 52, Cologne — 53, Aix-la-Chapelle — 54 and 55, Antwerp — 56, At sea — 57, London. In this tour, the same females (besides two other friends,) accompa- nied me.* We traversed the plains of Holland, under an intense sun, and inhaling all the pestiferous miasmata that emanate from Dutch dykes and alluvial soils, without inconvenience. We ascended the Rhine, amidst all the hurly-burly of steamers by day, and contention for beds and suppers at night. We passed through the Brunnens, throwing their stinking waters to the dogs — or to those who prefer such villain- ous compounds of subterraneous pharmacies to the pure element of Nature. We winded through the valleys of Switzerland, and ascended the mighty Alps — sometimes under tropical temperature — sometimes deluged with rain, or frozen with snow — but, at all times, unaffected by these rapid and extensive vicissitudes. BATHS OF PFEFFERS. As the ancient Romans sent their hypochondriacs to Egypt for change of air and scene, and as the rail-roads and steamers are not yet esta- blished between the Thames and the Nile, I shall here give a short description of one of the most curious localities which I have ever beheld in all my perambulations, and which I would strongly recommend hypo- chondriacal and nervous invalids, to visit, while traversing the Alpine territories in search of health. It is the Baths of Pfeffers, in the * Mr. and Miss Hayward, Mrs. and Miss Johnson, and myself. BATHS OF PFEFFERS. 159 Grison Country, not far from the Lake of Wallenstadt, which, in itself, presents most stupendous scenery. Having procured five small and steady horses accustomed to the locality, a party of three ladies and two gentlemen started from the little town of Ragatz on a beautiful morning in August, and commenced a steep and zig-zag ascent up the mountain, through a forest of majestic pines and other trees. In a quarter of an hour, we heard the roar of a torrent, but could see nothing of it or its bed. The path, however, soon approached the verge of a dark and tremendous ravine, the sides of which were composed of perpendicular rocks several hundred feet high, and at the bottom of which the Tamina, a rapid mountain torrent, foamed along in its course to the valley of Sargans, there to fall into the upper Rhine. The stream itself, however, was far beyond our view, and was only known by its hollow and distant murmurs. The ascent, for the first three miles, is extremely fatiguing, so that the horses were ob- liged to take breath every ten minutes. The narrow path, (for it is only a kind of mule-track,) often winded along the very brink of the precipice, on our left, yet the eye could not penetrate to the bottom of the abyss. After more than an hour of toilsome climbing, we emerged from the wood, and found ourselves in one of the most picturesque and romantic spots that can well be imagined. The road now meanders horizontally through a high, but cultivated region, towards the village of Valentz, through fields, gardens, vineyards, and meadow r s, studded with chaumiers and chalets, perched fantastically on projecting ledges of rock, or sheltered from the winds by tall and verdant pines. The prospect from Valentz, or rather from above the village, is one of the most beautiful and splendid I have any where seen in Switzerland. We are there at a sufficient distance from the horrid ravine, to contemplate it without terror, and listen to the roaring torrent, thundering unseen, along its rugged and precipitous bed. Beyond the ravine we see the monastery and village of Pfeifers, perched on a high and apparently in- accessible promontory, over which rise alpine mountains, their sides covered with woods, their summits with snow, and their gorges glitter- ing with glaciers. But it is towards the East that the prospect is most magnificent and varied. The eye ranges, with equal pleasure and asto- nishment, over the valley of Sargans, through which rolls the infant Rhine, and beyond which the majestic ranges of the Rhetian Alps, ten thousand feet high, rise one over the other, till their summits mingle ECONOMY OF HEALTH. ICO with the clouds. Among these ranges the Scesa-plana, the Angsten- berg, the Flesch, (like a gigantic pyramid,) and in the distance the Alps that tower round Feldkirck, are the most prominent features. During our journey to the Baths, the morning sun played on the snowy summits of the distant mountains, and marked their forms on the blue expanse behind them, in the most distinct outlines. But, on our return, in the afternoon, when the fleecy clouds had assembled, in fantastic groups, along the lofty barrier, the reflections and refractions of the solar beams threw a splendid crown of glory round the icy heads of the Rhetian Alps — changing that “ cold sublimity” with which the morning atmosphere had invested them, into a glow of illumination which no pen or pencil could portray. To enjoy the widest possible range of this matchless prospect, the tourist must climb the peaks that overhang the village, when his eye may wander over the whole of the Grison Alps and valleys, even to the lake of Constance. From V alentz we turned abruptly down towards the ravine, at the very bottom of which are the Baths of Pfeffers. The descent is by a series of acute and precipitous tourniquets, requiring great caution, as the horses themselves could hardly keep on their legs, even when eased of their riders. At length we found ourselves in the area of a vast edifice resembling an overgrown factory, with a thousand windows, and six or seven stories high. It is built on a ledge of rock that lies on the left bank of the Tamina torrent, w T hich chafes along its foundation. The precipice on the opposite side of the Tamina, and distant about fifty paces from the mansion, or rather hospital, rises five or six hundred feet, as perpendicular as a wall, keeping the edifice in perpetual shade, except for a few hours in the middle of the day. The left bank of the ravine, on which the hospital stands, is less precipitous, as it admits of a zig-zag path to and from the Baths. The locale, altogether, of such an establishment, at the very bottom of a frightful ravine, and for ever chafed by a roaring torrent, is the most singularly wild and picturesque I had ever beheld ; but the wonders of Pfeffers are not yet even glanced at. From the western extremity of this vast asylum of invalids, a narrow wooden bridge spans the Tamina, and by it we gain footing on a small platform of rock on the opposite side. Here a remarkable phenomenon presents istelf. The deep ravine, which had hitherto preserved a width of some 150 feet, contracts, all at once, into a narrow cleft or crevasse, BATHS OF PFEFFERS. 161 of less than 20 feet, whose marble sides shoot up from the bed of the torrent, to a height of four or five hundred feet, not merely perpendicu- lar, but actually inclining towards each other, so that, at their summits, they almost touch, thus leaving a narrovr fissure through which a faint glimmering of light descends, and just serves to render objects visible within this gloomy cavern. Out of this recess the Tamina darts in a sheet of foam, and with a deafening noise reverberated from the rocks within and without the crevasse. On approaching the entrance, the eye penetrates a majestic vista of marble w r alls in close approxima- tion, and terminating in obscurity, with a narrow waving line of sky above, and a roaring torrent below ! Along the southern wall of this sombre gorge, a fragile scaffold, of only two planks in breadth, is seen to run, suspended — as it were — in air, fifty feet above the torrent, and three or four hundred feet beneath the crevice that admits air and light from Heaven into the profound abyss. This frail and frightful foot-path is continued (will it be believed ?) nearly half a mile into the marble womb of the mountain ! Its construction must have been a work of great difficulty and peril ; for its transit cannot be made even by the most curious and adventurous travellers, without fear and trembling* amounting often to a sense of shuddering and horror. Along these two planks we crept or crawled, with faultering steps and palpitating hearts. It has been my fortune to visit most of the wonderful localities of this globe, but an equal to this I never beheld. “ Imagination (says an intelligent traveller) the most vivid, could not portray the portals of Tartarus under forms more hideous than those which Nature has displayed in this place. We enter this gorge on a bridge of planks (pont de planches) sustained by wedges driven into the rocks. It takes a quarter of an hour or more to traverse this bridge, and it requires the utmost precaution. It is suspended over the Tamina, which is heard rolling furiously at a great depth beneath. The wralls of this cavern, twisted, torn, and split (les parois laterales contournees, fendues, et dechirees) in various ways, rise perpendicular, and even incline towards each other, in the form of a dome ; whilst the faint light that enters from the portal at the end, and the crevice above, diminishes as we proceed ; — the cold and humidity augmenting the horror produced by the scene. The fragments of rock sometimes overhang this gangway in such a manner, that the passenger cannot walk upright : — At others, the marble wall recedes so much, that he is unable to lean against it Y 1(>2 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. for support. The scaffold is narrow, often slippery ; and sometimes there is but a single plank, separating us from the black abyss of the Tamina.* He who has cool courage, a steady eye, and a firm step, ought to attempt this formidable excursion (epouvantable excursion) in clear and dry weather, lest he should find the planks wet and slippery. ' He should start in the middle of the day, with a slow and measured step, and without a stick. The safest plan is to have two guides sup- porting a pole, on the inside of which the stranger is to walk.” We neglected this precaution, and four out of the five pushed on, even without a guide at all. At forty or fifty paces from the entrance the gloom increases, while the roar of the torrent beneath, reverberated from the sides of the cavern, augments the sense of danger and the horror of the scene. The meridian sun penetrated sufficiently through the narrow line of fissure at the summit of the dome, to throw a variety of lights and of shadows over the vast masses of variegated marble com- posing the walls of this stupendous cavern, compared with which, those of Salsette, Elephanta, and even Staffa, shrink into insignificance. A wooden pipe, which conveys the hot waters from their source to the baths, runs along in the angle between the scaffold and the rocks, and proves very serviceable, both as a support for one hand while pacing the plank, and as a seat, when the passenger wishes to rest, and contem- plate the wonders of the cavern. At about one- third of the distance inward, I would advise the tourist to halt, and survey the singular lo- cality in which he is placed. The inequality of breadth in the long chink that divides the dome above, admits the light in very different proportions, and presents objects in a variety of aspects. The first im- pression which occupies the mind is caused by the cavern itself, with reflection on the portentous convulsion of Nature which split the marble rock in twain, and opened a gigantic aqueduct for the mountain torrent.f * “ Le pont est etroit, sou vent glissant, et quelquefois on n’est separe que par une seule planche du noir abime de la Tamina..” f- It is surprising that the author of the “Voyage Pittoresque en Suisse,” and even Dr. Ebell, should have been led into the monstrous error of imagining that the torrent of the Tamina had, in the course of ages, hollowed out of the marble rock this profound bed for itself. We might just as well suppose, that, the bed of the Mediterranean had been scooped out by the waters of the Hellespont, in their way from the Black Sea to the Atlantic. The mountain was rent by some convulsion of Nature, and apparently from below upwards, as the breadth, ; he bed of the Tamina, is far broader than the external crevice above. BATHS OF PFJSVFERS. 163 After a few minutes’ rumination on the action of subterranean fire, our attention is attracted to the slow but powerful operation of water on the solid parietes of this infernal grotto. We plainly perceive that the boisterous torrent has, in the course of time, and especially when swelled by rains, caused wonderful changes both in its bed and its banks. I would direct the attention of the traveller to a remarkable excavation formed by the waters on the opposite side of the chasm, and in a part more sombre than usual, in consequence of a bridge that spans the cre- vice above, and leads to the Convent of Pfeifers. This natural grotto is hollowed out of the marble rock to the depth of 30 feet, being nearly 40 feet in width, by 26 feet in height. It is difficult not to attribute it to art : and, as the whole cavern constantly reminds us of the Tartarean Regions, this beautifully vaulted grotto seems to be fitted for the throne of Pluto and Poserpine — or, perhaps, for the tribunal of Rhadamanthus and his brothers of the Bench, while passing sentence on the ghosts that glide down this Acheron or Cocytus — for had the Tamina been known to the ancient poets, it would assuredly have been ranked as one of the rivers of Hell. One of the most startling phenomena, however, results from a per- spective view into the cavern, when about midway, or rather less, from its portal. The rocky vista ends in obscurity ; but gleams and columns of light burst down in many places, from the meridian sun, through this “ palpable obscure,” so as to produce a wonderful variety of light and shade, as well as of bas-relief, along the fractured walls. While sitting on the rude wooden conduit before alluded to, and meditating on the infernal region upon which I had entered, I was surprised to behold, at a great distance, the figures of human beings, or thin shadows (for I could not tell which), advancing slowly towards me — suspended between Heaven and earth — or, at least, between the vault of the cavern and the torrent of the Tamina, without any apparent pathway to sustain their steps, but seemingly treading in air, like disembodied spirits ! While my attention was rivetted on these figures, they suddenly disappeared ; and the first impression on my mind was, that they had fallen and perished in the horrible abyss beneath. The painful sensation was soon relieved by the re-appearance of the personages in more distinct shapes, and evidently composed of flesh and blood. Again they vanished from my sight ; and, to my no small astonishment, I beheld their ghosts or their shadows advancing along the opposite side of the cavern ! These, 0X0 MY OF HEALTH. 1(54 and many other optical illusions, were caused, of course, by the peculiar nature of the locality, and the unequal manner in which the light pene- trated from above into this sombre chasm. Surprise was frequently turned into a sense of danger, when the par- ties, advancing and retreating, met on this narrow scaffold. The “ laws of the road” being different on the Continent from those in old England, my plan was to screw myself up into the smallest compass, close to the rock, and thus allow passengers to steal by without opposition. We found that comparatively few penetrated to the extremity of the cavern and the source of the Thermae — the majority being frightened, or finding themselves incapable of bearing the sight of the rapid torrent under their feet, without any solid security against precipitation into the infernal gulf. To the honour of the English ladies, I must say that they ex- plored the source of the waters with the most undaunted courage, and without entertaining a thought of returning from a half-finished tour to the regions below.* Advancing still farther into the cavern, another phenomenon presented itself, for which w r e were unable to account at first. Every now and then we observed a gush of vapour or smoke (we could not tell which) issue from the further extremity of the rock on the left, spreading itself over the w r alls of the cavern, and ascending towards the crevice in the dome. It looked like an explosion of steam ; but the roar of the tor- rent would have prevented us from hearing any noise, if such had oc- curred. We soon found, however, that it was occasioned by the rush of vapour from the cavern in which the thermal source is situated, every time the door was opened for the ingress or egress of visitors to and from this natural vapour-bath. At such moments the whole scene is so truly Tartarean, that had Virgil and Dante been acquainted with it, they need not have strained their imaginations in portraying the ideal abodes of fallen angels, infernal gods, and departed spirits, but painted a Hades from Nature, with all the advantage of truth and reality in its favour. Our ingress occupied nearly half an hour, when we found ourselves at the extremity of the parapet, on a jutting ledge of rock, and where the cavern assumed an unusually sombre complexion, in consequence of * This has not always been the case. The talented authoress of “ Reminiscences of the Rhine,” &c. appears to have lacked courage for this enterprise, though her beautiful daughters advanced to the further extremity of the gorge. BATHS OF I'FEFFERS. 165 the cliffs actually uniting, or nearly so, at the summit of the dome. Here, too, the Tamina struggled, roared, and foamed through the narrow, dark, and rugged gorge with tremendous impetuosity and deafening noise, the sounds being echoed and reverberated a thousand times by the frac- tured angles and projections of the cavern. We were now at the source of the Thermae. Ascending some steps cut out of the rock, we came to a door, which opened, and instantly enveloped us in tepid steam. We entered a grotto in the solid marble, but of what dimensions we could form no estimate, since it was dark as midnight, and full of dense and fervid vapour. We were quickly in an universal perspiration. The guides hurried us forward into another grotto, still deeper in the rock, where the steam was suffocating, and where we exuded at every pore. It was as dark as pitch. An owl would not have been able to see an eagle within a foot of its saucer eyes. We were told to stoop and stretch out our hands. We did so, and immersed them in the boiling — or, at least, the gurgling, source of the Pfeffers. We even quaffed at this fountain of Hygeia. Often had we slept in damp linen, while travelling through Holland, Germany, and Switzerland. We had now, by way of variety, a waking set of teguments saturated with moisture ab interno, as well as ab externo, to such an extent, that I believe each of us would have weighed at least half a stone more at our exit than on our entrance into this stew-pan of the Grison Alps. On emerging into the damp, gelid, and gloomy atmosphere of the cavern, every thing appeared of a dazzling brightness after our short immersion in the Cimmerian darkness of the grotto. The transition of temperature was equally as abrupt as that of light. The vicissitude could have been little less than 50 or 60 degrees of Fahrenheit in one instant, with all the disadvantage of dripping garments ! It was like shifting the scene, with more than theatrical celerity, from the Black Hole of Calcutta to Fury Beach, or the snows of Nova Zembla. Some of the party, less experienced in the effects of travelling than myself, considered themselves destined to illustrate the well-known allegory of the discontented — and that they would inevitably carry away with them a large cargo of that which thousands come here annually to get rid of — Rheumatism. I confess that I was not without some misgivings myself on this point, seeing that we had neither the means of changing our clothes nor of drying them — except by the heat of our bodies in the 1 ( 5(3 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. mountain breeze. The Goddess of Health, however, who is nearly related to the Genius of Travelling, preserved us from all the bad consequences, thermometrical and hygrometrical, of these abrupt vicis- situdes.* We retrograded along the narrow plank that suspended us over the profound abyss with caution, fear, and astonishment. The Tamina seemed to roar more loud and savage beneath us, as if incensed at our safe retreat. The sun had passed the meridian, and the gorge had assumed a far more lugubrious aspect than it wore on our entrance. The shivered rocks and splintered pinnacles that rose on each side of the torrent, in gothic arches of altitude sublime, seemed to frown on our retreating footsteps — while the human figures that moved at a dis- tance along the crazy plank, before and behind us, frequently lost their just proportions, and assumed the most grotesque and extraordinary shapes and dimensions, according to the degree of light admitted by the narrow fissure above, and the scarcely discernible aperture at the ex- tremity of this wonderful gorge. The Tamina, meanwhile, did not fail to play its part in the gorgeous scene — astounding the eye by the rapidity of its movements, and astonishing the ear by the vibrations of its echoes. It seemed to growl more furiously as we receded from the depths of the crevasse. At length we gained the portal, and, as the sun was still darting his bright rays into the deepest recesses of the ravine, glancing from the marble rocks, and glittering on the boiling torrent, the sudden transition from Cimmerian gloom to dazzling day-light, appeared like enchantment. While crossing the trembling bridge, I looked back on a scene which can never be eradicated from my memory. It is the most singular and impressive I have ever beheld on this globe, and compared with w r hich, the Brunnens are “ bubbles” indeed If * This circumstance illustrates, in a very remarkable manner, the effects of passing from a hot, or vapour-bath, into cold air or water. The immunity is nearly certain. The hotter the medium from which we start into the cold, the less danger there is of suffering any inconvenience. This principle in Hygiene is more understood than practised. It will be adverted to farther on. + Lest I should be suspected of exaggeration, in this account of the Baths of Pfeffers, I shall here introduce a short extract from “ Reminiscences of the Rhine, &c.” by Mrs. Boddington — a work eulogized to the skies in the Edinburgh Review, and its author represented (and, I understand, deservedly) as a lady of very superior talents and of strict veracity. After some slight notice of the Bath-house, Mrs. B. proceeds thus : — WATERS OF PFEFFERS. 167 THE WATERS OF PFEFFERS AND THERMAL WATERS IN GENERAL. The Waters of Pfeffers have neither taste, smell, nor colour. They will keep for ten years, without depositing a sediment, or losing their transparency. But we are not to infer that they are destitute of medi- cinal powers, because they possess no sensible properties. In their chemical composition, they have hitherto shewn but few ingredients ; and those of the simpler saline substances, common to most mineral springs.* * It does not follow, however, that they contain no active materials because chemistry is not able to detect them. Powerful agents may be diffused in waters, and which are incapable of analysis, or des- tructible by the process employed for that purpose. The only sure test is experience of their effect on the human body. It is not pro- bable that the Baths of Pfeffers would have attracted such multitudes of invalids, annually, from Switzerland, Germany, and Italy ; and that for six centuries, if their remedial agency had been null or imaginary .f Their “ Behind rolls the stormy Tamina, hemmed in at one side by the dark Bath-house and the impending cliffs, while, on the other, a giant wall of perpendicular rock, starting up daringly, and shutting out the world — almost the light of Heaven — closes up the scene. Our guide proposed that we should visit the mineral springs that boil up from the depth of an awful cavern, several hundred paces from the Bath-house. A bridge thrown from rock to rock, crosses the flood, and a narrow ledge of planks, fixed, I know not how, against the side of the rock, and suspended over the fierce torrent, leads through a long, dark chasm to the source. I ventured but a little way ; for, when 1 found myself on the terrifying shelf, without the slightest ballustrade, and felt it slippery, from the continual spray, and nothing between us and the yawning gulf, to which darkness, thickening at every step, gave increased horror, I made a few rapid reflections on foolhardiness and retreated.” * In an old account of the baths we find the following passage: — “ The water of these baths is extremely clear, without taste or smell. It bears with it the most subtle spirits of sulphur, nitre, vitriol, and divers metals — amongst others, gold.” f In many people they produce slight vertigo — in more, they act freely on the bowels. They were discovered in the 12th century, by two chasseurs from the neighbouring monastery, who were seeking birds’ nests in the ravine of the Tamina. For a long time they could only descend to these baths by means of ropes ; but at length human ingenuity formed zig-zags along the rocks. As if every thing relating to these waters should partake of the wonderful, it may be mentioned that they begin to flow in May, when the Summer is approaching — are at their acme when the skies are fervid and the land parched with thirst, yielding 1500 pints of water every minute — and cease entirely in September, when the rains begin to fail, and the mountain streams to pour freely along every declivity ! 168 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. visiters are not of that fashionable class, who run to watering-places for pleasure rather than for health — or to dispel the vapours of the town by the pure air of the coast or the country. Yet, as human nature is essentially the same in all ranks of society, I have no doubt that much of the fame acquired by the Baths of Pfeifers (as well as many other baths) has been owing to the auxiliary influence of air, locality, change of scene, moral impressions, and the peculiar mode of using the waters. Their temperature — 100° of Fahr. — certain physical phenomena which they evince, and the nature of the diseases which they are reported to cure, leave little doubt in my mind that their merits, though over-rated, like those of all other mineral springs, are very considerable. The disorders for which they are most celebrated, are rheumatic and neuralgic pains, glandular swellings, and cutaneous eruptions. But they are also resorted to by a host of invalids afflicted with those ano- malous and chronic affections, to which nosology has assigned no name, and for which the Pharmacopoeia affords very few remedies. As the Baths belong to the neighbouring Convent of Pfeifers, and as the holy fathers afford not only spiritual consolation to the patients, but medical assistance in directing the means of cure, there is every reason to be- lieve, or at least to hope, that the moral, or rather divine influence of Religion co-operates with mere physical agency, in removing disease and restoring health. The Waters of Pfeffers are led from their sombre source in the ca- vern, along the narrow scaffold before described, into a series of Baths scooped out of the rocky foundation of this vast hospital, each bath ca- pable of accommodating a considerable number of people at the same time. The thermal waters are constantly running into and out of the baths — or rather through them, so that the temperature is preserved uniform, and the waters themselves in a state of comparative purity, notwithstanding the numbers immersed in them. The Baths are arched with stone — the window to each is small, admitting little light and less air ; — and, as the doors are kept shut, except when the bathers are en- tering or retiring, the whole space not occupied by water, is full of a dense vapour, as hot as the Thermae themselves. The very walls of the baths are warm, and always dripping with moisture. Such are the Su- datoria in which the German, Swiss, and Italian invalids indulge more luxuriously than ever did the Romans in the Baths of Caracalla. In these they lie daily, from two to six, eight, ten — and sometimes sixteen WATERS OF PFEFFERS. 169 hours !* The whole exterior of the body is thus soaked, softened — - parboiled ; while the interior is drenched by large quantities swallowed by the mouth — the patient, all this while, breathing the dense vapour that hovers over the baths. The Waters of Pfeifers, therefore, inhaled and imbibed, exhaled and absorbed, for so many hours daily, must per- meate every vessel, penetrate every gland, and percolate through every pore of the body. So singular a process of human maceration in one of Nature’s caldrons, conducted with German patience and German en- thusiasm, must, I think, relax many a rigid muscle — unbend many a contracted joint — soothe many an aching nerve — clear many an un- sightly surface — resolve many an indurated gland — open many an ob- structed passage — and restore many a suspended function. The fervid and detergent streams of the Pfeifers, in fact, are actually turned, daily and hourly, through the Augean stable of the human constitution, and made to rout out a host of maladies indomitable by the prescriptions of the most sage physicians. The fable of Medea’s revival of youthful vigour in wasted limbs is very nearly realized in the mountains of the Grisons, and in the savage ravine of the Tamina. Lepers are here pu- rified — the lame commit their crutches to the flames — the tumid throat and scrofulous neck are reduced to symmetrical dimensions — and sleep revisits the victim of rheumatic pains and neuralgic tortures. That many circumstances, connected with the singular locality of the Pfeifers, conduce to their medicinal reputation, there can be little doubt. The Baths themselves, though at the bottom of a ravine nearly a thou- sand feet deep, are yet at a considerable height above the neighbouring valley, and very far above the level of the ocean. The air feels pecu- liarly light and pure, even in the depth of the gorge ; while the sur- rounding precipices and lofty mountains must preserve a remarkable equilibrium of temperature. The sun can penetrate the profundity of the ravine only during a few hours in the middle of the day ; and the sojourners can easily defend themselves from his rays w r ithin the walls of this vast sudatorium — or in the cool and gloomy cavern itself. The tempest may roll, the thunders may roar, and the lightnings may play * A German writer informs us that the country people stay in these Baths from Saturday night till Monday morning. “ Tous les Samedis on voit accourir h. Pfeffers une multitude de gens des campagnes voisines, et ils restent dans le bains jusqu’au Lundi matin pour provoquer la sueur.” Z I/O KCONOMY OF HEALTH. round the lofty Alpine peaks ; but the profound depth of the ravine maintains its sombre serenity of atmosphere unchanged, and the whole locality looks like a little colony that had sunk from the surface of the upper "world, and was only reminded of its existence by the distant war of the elements. When rains descend into the ravine, valetudinarians have ample space for exercise under the arcades of the building, or in its spacious “ salles d manger .” When the weather is fine, there is a terrace in the open air, cut out of the rock close to the Baths, for such as are incapable of much exertion. To those however, -who are able to scale the neigh- bouring heights, is opened a fund of pleasure and health, such as no place that I have visited on the face of this globe can present. On the right bank of the Tamina, a staircase is hewn out of the solid marble, by which you ascend to a beautiful little plateau, on -which is built the convent, as well as the village of Pfeffers. This table-land is in the form of a triangle, two sides of which are almost perpendicular precipices of nearly a thousand feet — one overhanging the Tamina — the other over- looking the valley of Sargans, through which meanders the upper Rhine. The third side connects this elevated plain with one of the most cele- brated Alps of the Grisons — the Galanda. The monks, in all ages, have evinced their taste in the selection of healthy as well as beautiful sites for their monasteries and convents. The plateau of Pfeffers is most delightfully situated, under the shelter of the Galanda and other mountains in its rear, and with the romantic valley of Sargans beneath it in front. The ascent to the summit, or Belvidere of the Galanda, on this side of the ravine, is a work of labour; but the lover of magnificent scenery would be repaid by one of the most splendid prospects in the world, while the hypochondriacal invalid would, most assuredly, throw off his load of “ blue devils,” and imaginary ills, before he got half way to the apex of this gigantic pyramid. The chain of the Rhetian Alps rises like a wall before him — the lake of Wallenstadt with its stupen- dous and impending scenery, is under his feet — the lake of Constance is in the distance — and a sea of Alps encompasses him on every side. Invalids of weaker powers, and less ambitious views, may mount almost entirely on mules or small horses, from the western bank of the Tamina — namely, from the Baths, by the romantic village of V a- lenz, to the mountains that tower over the hamlet, where they will en- joy a prospect little inferior to that which is seen from the Galanda, WATERS OF PFEFKERS. 17 1 and where the sublime and beautiful are scattered in the most bountiful profusion.* If we consider attentively the remarkable process of bathing, already described — the equable temperature maintained in the ravine — the moral impressions made on the mind of the stranger by the stupendous and romantic scenes around him — the opportunities, and even the induce- ments, for every species of exercise, from the slow saunter on the level terrace, to the laborious ascent of the cloud-capt Alp — and, lastly, the invigorating influence of the mountain-breeze, after protracted immersion in hot water, and long inhalation of tepid vapour — we can scarcely doubt that all these moral and physical agencies combined, must produce very remarkable effects on the human constitution — and those of a very be- neficial kind, particularly in certain maladies. * It is equally curious and interesting to observe the series of gradations and changes that present themselves to the eye of the spectator, while standing on an eminence of five or six thousand feet, and in the vicinity of the high Alps. First, the cap of dazzling and unsullied snow, crowning each mountain-top “ in frigid majesty — then the naked and primaeval granite, starting out through the thinner coats of snow — a little lower down we see specks of scanty vegetation, preserving a miserable and precarious existence amidst storms and avalanches — then the stunted pine, extracting nutriment from the crevices of the rocks — next in succession, we see small pieces of pasturage, maintaining the goat, with its outlaw, the chamois, and presenting the first and worst of human habitations — the Chalet. Descending still lower, the dark “ piney forest” contrasts deeply with the masses of “ unfathom’d snows” that hang over it, and seems to stand as the barrier between the region of desolation and that of fertility. Now the Chaumieres or Swiss cottages supersede the chalets, or goat-herds’ huts, perched on ledges of rocks, and surrounded by meadows, corn-fields, gardens, and even vineyards ; — with cattle grazing, shepherds tending their flocks, and peasants labouring in every kind of rural avocation. From the region of eternal snow, down to the sunny vales of the Alps, we see the glittering glaciers wedged in the deep ravines, and slowly descending in rivers of solid ice, each disgorging from its dark recesses a rapid and roaring torrent, the noisy herald of the Alps, announcing their contributions to the mighty ocean. Lastly, the eye rests on the tranquil and glassy lake, the mirror of the mountains, reflecting from its polished surface the hoary peak and frowning cliff — the verdant field and gloomy forest — the solitary hut and smiling cottage — the foaming cataract and fearful precipice — all the materials and features, in short, of the magnificent amphitheatre. The contemplative spectator beholds, with equal delight and astonishment, another Heaven and another Earth depicted ten thousand feet beneath him, illustrating, and infinitely surpassing, the beautiful description of the poet — Prior : — “ As when some smooth expanse receives, impressed, Calm Nature’s image on its wat’ry breast ; — Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow. And skies beneath, with answering colours glow.” 172 ECONOMY or HKAI.TII. It is clear, however, that there are many complaints to which the Baths of Pfeffers, and other thermal waters, might prove injurious. In pulmonary affections of all kinds, warm baths are more than doubt- ful — they are generally prejudicial. The afflux of blood to the surface, while in the bath, must be followed by more or less of efflux from the periphery to the centre of the body — and then the weak organ will ex- perience more injury than benefit from the operation. Besides this, there is a certain degree of re-action that follows all baths, both hot and cold — and this re-action or excitement almost always aggravates the symptoms of chronic inflammation, or organic disease of internal struc- tures. Chronic hepatitis may form an exception sometimes. The ex- citement of the tepid bath on the skin generally increases the secretion of bile, and in that way relieves a congested liver. But, even here, the bath should never be more than tepid. The same observations apply to all organic affections of the heart. The tide of the circulation, in such cases, should never be accelerated by either warm or cold bathing — or by the exercise of climbing heights, in such localities as the Pfeffers. I have seen, in my wanderings on the Continent, many invalids incautiously sent to drink and bathe in various medicinal waters, and where injury would almost inevitably be the result. In. determinations (as they are called) to the head — in chronic affec- tions of the membranes, of the vessels, or of the substance of the brain, hot or cold baths are decidedly contra-indicated, and for the reasons al- ready adduced. As people with acute diseases are seldom sent to such places as these, it may seem unnecessary to allude to them here ; but I cannot help taking this opportunity of cautioning against a practice by no means uncommon in this country — namely, the employment of warm, and even hot baths in acute rheumatism, and other inflammations. I can safely declare that I never yet saw any good effects from such procedure ; — but, on the contrary, that I have very generally observed an augmen- tation of the fever — or, what is worse, an increased tendency to trans- lation — not merely from joint to joint, but from the surface to some in- ternal organ, especially the heart. I have been long in the habit, while investigating hypertrophy of the heart, succeeding acute rheumatism, to inquire respecting the treatment of the original disease ; and I have found that, in more than three-fourths of these cases, the hot bath had been employed to relieve the pains of the limbs. Acute rheumatism is THERMAL MEDICINAL WATERS. 173 a specific, and not a common inflammation. It is not to be cured by- general and local bleeding, like other topical phlegmasia?. The blood, indeed, will be found highly inflamed ; but that does not authorise vene- section in this particular case, any more than the same phenomenon would in pregnancy. Acute rheumatism is a very manageable disease, if baths and blood-letting are left alone, in general, and calomel and opium given, with colchicum and saline aperients. Warm evaporating lotions to the parts inflamed are infinitely better than the leechings and baths. I doubt the utility of warm baths in acute inflammation of internal structures generally — and in many of them, where they are sometimes employed, I am confident they are detrimental. It is by no means un- common to place a patient, labouring under acute hepatitis, in a warm bath after bleeding. It is hazardous to employ this measure before the inflammation is checked, and it is unnecessary afterwards. The same practice is often pursued, and always with risk, in pneumonia and car- ditis. Nothing would induce me to order the warm bath in either of these complaints. Inflammations of the peritoneum and of the urinary organs, including of course the kidneys, are those in which I have ob- served most benefit, and least danger, from the warm bath. But even in these, very copious bleeding should precede it — the bowels being well cleared — and the secretions rendered as healthy as possible. There are very few other internal inflammations, where I would venture on the warm bath. But there is a long catalogue of chronic disorders, to which thermal medicinal waters, both internally and externally applied, prove ex- tremely useful — especially when aided by the moral and physical circum- stances adverted to in this section, and which exist, in greater or less abundance, at most of the watering-places, in England and on the Con- tinent. Thermal waters act in three principal ways on the human machine ; — 1st, through the medium of sensation, on the nervous sys- tem — 2nd, through the agency of temperature, on the vascular system — and 3rd, by means of their chemical contents, on the secretory and ex- cretory organs. In most chronic complaints, and especially in rheuma- tism, gout, cutaneous deflations, neuralgia, dyspepsia, glandular swel- ' lings, and visceral obstructions, there is pain, uneasiness, or discomfort of some kind, which, indeed, constitutes the chief grievance of the indi- vidual. It is no unimportant matter to soothe these sufferings, during 1/4 K( ONOMY OF II iiALTH. tlie process employed for tlieir cure. The warm bath effects this pur- pose in an eminent degree, through its agency on the sentient extremi- ties of the nerves distributed over the surface of the body. There is an extensive chain of sympathies established between the skin and the in- ternal viscera ; and, through the medium of this channel, agreeable sen- sations excited on the exterior, are very often communicated to the central organs and structures themselves. Even in this way, torpid secretions are frequently roused into activity and improved in quality, while the secretory apparatus itself is relieved from a host of painful feelings. The agency of thermal waters on the vascular system is of the utmost importance. Although the temperature of the blood is 98° of Fahrenheit, the surface of the body, when not fevered, is very many degrees below that point. The warm bath, therefore, when about blood-heat, attracts a strong tide of circulation to the surface, and thus liberates internal organs, for a time, from a congestive state of their vessels. This deter- mination to the surface augments the cutaneous exhalation, and, by a well-known reflex sympathy, increases the secretion of the great glan- dular viscera of the interior — more especially the liver. Even the gentle and alternate flux and reflux of the circulation, from the interior to the exterior, and vice versa, produce very beneficial effects, in constitutions where the balance of the circulation is broken in a variety of ways, and where several secretions and excretions are vitiated, by stagnation in some cases, and by inordinate action in others. The chemical agency of mineral waters is not to be overlooked. They contain, in all probability, many ingredients which we cannot de- tect — and many known agents, which we cannot imitate by artificial combinations. This is proved by every day’s observation. Thus, the saline aperient materials, in mineral waters, will produce ten times more effect than the identical materials, artificially dissolved and commixed. The same is true with respect to the chalybeate springs. A grain of iron in them is more tonic than 20 grains, exhibited according to the Pharmacopoeia. It is on these accounts that a course of the saline aperient waters, followed up by the light chalybeates, as at Ems and other places, combined with the various moral and physical auxiliaries which I have described, may and do work wonders in many chronic maladies. It is, however, in that extensive class of human afflictions termed TRAVELLING EXERCISE. 1/5 nervous, dyspeptic, and hypochondriacal, that a journey to the Baths of Pfeifers, and other waters of a similar kind, offers strong temptations, and very considerable hopes of amendment. To hypochondriacs espe- cially I would recommend this tour. Let them get sea-sick in the Batavier, mud sick in the Maaes, and dyke-sick in Holland ; — let them then ascend the Rhine, amid all the bustle of steamers and hotels — and wind through the romantic scenery of that noble river. They may visit the Brunnens of Nassau — the shopocracy of Frankfort — the clean, dull towns of Darmstadt and Carlshrue — the old red Castle of Heidelberg — the fairy land of Baden Baden — the prosperous town of Offenburgh — the Black Forest — the Falls of the Rhine — the Lake of Wallenstadt, presenting the most splendid lake scenery in Switzerland — and, lastly, the Baths of Pfeffers. Let them be enjoined by their physician to penetrate the gorge of the Tamina, and drink and perspire at the source of the waters in the rock, as the sine qua non of cure — let them be con- jured to mount the Galanda, where there is a specific air for removal of low spirits — and then, if their “ blue devils” are not drowned in the Pfeffers, or blown away on the Alps — they had better jump into the Tamina — for their case is hopeless ! But if they experience, as I think they will, the most beneficial con- sequences of the discipline I have recommended, then I would advise them to prosecute their tour of health still farther. They are now in the vicinity of one of the most magnificent of the Alpine passes — the Splugen. In their way thither, they thread the mazes of the Via Mala, one of the wonders of the world — where they view, with terror, the infant Rhine struggling through gorges little inferior to that of the Tamina — and over which they pass three times, with the river rolling and roaring 300 feet beneath them.* Descending from the sublime and dreary heights of the Splugen, they behold, with delight and wonder, the road winding down to fair Italy, like a serpent coiled along the rugged steeps of the mountain. Traversing the lake of Como in the steamer, they may wander round the romantic shores of Lugano — em- bark on the Lago Maggiore, and land on the Boromeo Isles — return by the Simplon, St. Bernard, or Cenis, and penetrate through the centre of * See Dr. Beattie’s inimitable delineation of the^ViA Mala, in “ Switzerland illustrated ” — a wprk unequalled for the eloquence of the text, the beauty of the plates, and the fidelity of the descriptions. 176 ECONOMY OK HEALTH. Switzerland, back to the Rhine — or across through dull France, to their native shore — all in two months. We descended to the plains of Lombardy, in August, when the heat was excessive, and when malaria issued, in abundance, from the fruitful soil of that beautiful country. We slept near Riva, one of the most pestiferous spots in Italy, where malignant fevers are almost certain to issue from even a single night’s repose there — and all without illness. On the Lake of Lugano, we witnessed one of the most terrific hurricanes that ever swept along the Alps. It destroyed every pass, on the 27th of August, between the Mediterranean and the Tyrol, carrying devasta- tion and ruin along a line of two or three hundred miles, burying whole villages under the masses of rocks and debris of pine forests torn down from the Alps into the valleys, occasioning the loss of more than a thousand lives, and of many millions of property. In crossing rivers, lakes, mountains, and deep ravines, we experienced all imaginable tran- sitions, thermometrical, hygrometrical, and barometrical — without a day’s or an hour’s sickness ! We returned to modern Babylon, more like gypsies than London citizens. We were embrowned in complexion — improved in health — and impressed with a conviction of the beneficial influence of travelling exercise in the open air.* * It has been remarked that this work is very digressive and excursive. There is no doubt of it. But if such procedure be excusable in any work, it may be in the “ stream of human life” — which embraces — “ Quicquid agunt homines — votum, timor, ira, voluptas.” But it may reasonably be asked what possible connexion can a description of the Baths of Pfeifers have with the “ stream of life?” The “Economy of Health” is the main object of the Essay — and the remedial means afforded by travelling exercise are of the very first importance to the wealthier classes of society in this country. These remedial means are much increased by pursuing those tracts which produce most amusement and even excitement of the mind, thus calling off the invalid’s at- tention, as much as possible, from a contemplation of his own morbid feelings. There is no route on the Continent which offers sublimer scenery, or rivets the attention more than that which lies between Zurich and the village of the Splugen, including Pfeffers and the Via Mala. It was on this account that I dwelt more on these localities by way of invitation to my valetudinary countrymen — few of whom take this route in their travels. RELATIVE POSITION OF THE MASTER- PASSIONS. 1/7 EIGHTH SEPTENMIAD. [49 to 56 years.'] The idea of dividing human life into septenary periods, is as old as Galen, or nearly so — and both Shakespeare and Hoffman supported the same idea. It was only while this edition, however, was passing through the press, that I met with a work by Dr. Jameson, published about thirty years ago, in which there is a most striking coincidence between that gentleman and myself, in respect to these septenary periods, as the fol- lowing extract will shew. “ But the septennial evolutions of the machine, are still more re- markable than any changes upon septenary days and months, for there does not occur seven successive years in the life of man, without some evident alteration of constitution, which will become apparent in the course of the present narrative. We may, however, in the mean time, instance the renewal of the teeth at the seventh year, the arrival of puberty at twice seven, full stature at three times seven, the perfection of growth at four times seven, the greatest vigour of body and mind at five times seven, the commencement of partial decay at six times seven, general decay, and decrease of energy at seven times seven, the arrival of old age at eight times seven, and the grand climacteric of the ancients at nine times seven, which the author has always observed to come nearer the extent of life, enjoyed by persons who have always lived in Lon- don, than any other term that could be chosen for general calculation.” Dr. Jameson did not, however, adopt this septenary division, but parcelled out the stream of human existence into four periods — namely — infancy from birth to the age of 14 — youth, from 14 to 28 — manhood from 28 to 56 — and old age from 56 to the end of the term. Hoffman’s arrangement was — infantia from birth to 7 — pueritia from 7 to 14 — adolescentia from 14 to 21 — -juventus, from 21 to 35 — virilis (etas from 35 to 49 — senectus from 49 to 63 — decrepitas (etas, from 63 to the end of life. It will be seen that the cardinal points of Dr. Jameson’s cal- culations are the same as my own. He makes the greatest vigour of mind and body to take place at 35 — and declination from the meridian to commence at 42 years. Dr. Jameson, however, is inclined to think that this declination is not very conspicuous till the age of 57 years. a a 1/8 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. “ It might be expected, that the history of old age would commence with the incipient part of man’s decay, which is felt in some of the organs soon after forty-five, but it would be considered as a perversion of language in these days, to call men old at the time the body begins to retrograde, in a manner known only to anatomists. The author is, therefore, inclined to designate the 57th year, when the failure becomes generally obvious over the system, as the beginning of old age, and, the 81st year, as the commencement of the age of decrepitude, which ex- tends to any subsequent number of years, to which the life of man may be extended.” But be this as it may, the first anniversary of the Eighth Septenniad launches us beyond the first — and, in all human probability, into the last half century of human existence ! — Many commence the second half of the century ; but not one in fifty thousand complete it.* When, however, we survey the great chain of animated beings around us, from the polypus to man, we have no just reason to complain of the shortness of human life. A few animals, indeed, as the eagle and the elephant, live longer than we do. But the immense majority, enjoy an infinitely shorter range of light on this little globe. And when we look back from this advanced stage of our path, and contemplate the difficulties and the sufferings which we have experienced on the road — when we reflect, that those which we have yet to encounter, are not likely to be few, we ought not to repine that the remainder of the journey is comparatively short, and that a peaceful asylum is in view, where a narrow undisputed man- sion will limit our ambition, and effectually exclude the passions, the cares, and the afflictions of this life. Yet, even in this eighth Septen- niad, our hopes, anxieties, and struggles are more sanguine, intense, and persevering, than in any previous epoch of our sojourn here below ! In this Septenniad, the three master-passions, love, ambition, and avarice, shew further changes of relative position, not unworthy of attention. Love and ambition had a hard struggle for precedency, in the seventh Septenniad — and avarice was clearly in the minority. In the present epoch, ambition comes unequivocally to the head of the * By some statistical writers the centenarians are represented as much more numerous ; hut their data are very doubtful, and much deception is practised by people after ninety years of age. They are then prone to exaggerate their length of life, instead of concealing their years. PAINFUL REMINISCENCES. ]/9 list, and avarice, steadily rising, now disputes the claim of priority with love — and, it is to be feared, often stands second ! I have already remarked that the grand climacteric of woman — “ the turn of life” — takes place in the latter years of the seventh Septenniad. If she escape the perils of that crisis (and they are not few), the stream of her physical existence is likely to run clear and placid till the great ocean of eternity is approached. There is not, at this period, any cor- responding crisis in the life of man. His critical or grand climacteric is at the advanced age of sixty-tiiree. But, in both sexes, the eighth Septenniad brings with it a very marked increase of all the physical as well as intellectual changes, which the hand of Time is now working on the downward course of human existence. If, at this period, we meet with a friend or acquaintance, whom we have not seen for twenty years, the probability is, that we will not recognize the features of him or her, however familiar they may have been to our eyes for twenty years pre- viously to the separation ! Each of the parties is shocked — almost horrified — at the change in the other — and each congratulates himself, by a kind of involuntary impulse, on having experienced less of the wear and tear of time, than his old friend ! He or she, who has daily con- templated the reflected image in the faithful mirror, for a quarter of a century, cannot detect the gradual, and almost imperceptible inroads of time on the eye and the countenance generally, till the startling portrait of the friend, so changed, so metamorphosed, as not to be recognized but by collateral proofs of identity, suddenly arrests the attention, and, in despite of self-love and personal vanity, conveys a thrilling conviction that years have not rolled over his own head, without leaving their melancholy impress ! Poets and novelists have drawn glowing portraits of “ the pleasures of memory j” but he or she who revisits old friends and youth-hallowed localities, after a lapse of twenty or thirty years, will find that dolorous feelings predominate over youthful reminiscences. I can tell the philo- sopher, the philanthropist, and the moralist, that these revisitations will cause more pain than pleasure — especially if made during or after the seventh Septenniad. At an earlier period of life, the lapse of seven or ten years may enhance the pleasures of memory, the review of juvenile scenes, and the re-union of old friendships ; but, in advanced stages of existence, these pleasures are only in imagination, and are there alone enjoyed ! In such cases, epistolatory correspondence is perhaps pre- ferable to a renewal of personal acquaintance. We are told that 180 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. “ Heaven first taught letters for some wretch’s aid, Some banish’d lover, or some captive maid” — but they furnish solace and even pleasure to old and distant friends, who, through them, can recall the scenes of by-gone days, and revive impressions that were made — When life itself was new, And the heart promis’d what the fancy drew — without the melancholy drawback of viewing, in the shattered fabric of our friend, those ravages which time has made, though the mirror has softened them, in ourselves ! I am here induced to make a short dis- quisition on — MEMORY. The phrenologists do not allot any particular organ or locality for memory. “ Each organ (say they) enables the mind to recall the im- pressions which it served at first to receive.” Thus the organs of tune and form will recall notes and figures. Mr. Coombe remarks, however, that “ there appears to be a quality of brain, which gives retention to memory, so that one individual retains impressions much longer than another, although their combination of organs be the same. The cause of this is unknown.” But whatever be the nature or seat of memory, there is no power of the mind which is more complained of, as short in youth, treacherous in manhood, and impotent in age ! It appears, in- deed, to be the first faculty to fail and ultimately decay. It is the power of reproducing images impressed on the sensorial tablet through the medium of the senses first, and reflection afterwards. It is therefore the child of attention — and where the parent is indolent, the progeny will, in this case, be indigent. In nine cases out of ten, where the memory is treacherous, the observation has been superficial, perception faint, and reflection null or vague. The senses furnish, and memory preserves, the whole materiel of our knowledge — while imagination and reflection are merely the architects that convert the rough materials into various forms afterwards. It is fortunate that memory is faithful and retentive during that period of life in which the chief stock of knowledge is laid up. The faculty may afterwards fail ; but the understanding has been furnished with proper materials for carrying on the ordinary concerns of life. It rarely happens that the substance of early know- ledge is ever lost — though its sources, its minutiae, and its technicalities lapse from the tablet of the memory. The impressions of external ob- MEMORY. 181 jects (and even reflections), on the youthful mind, are graven in brass — those of our latter years are written in sand — or rather in water ! They fade almost immediately. Memory is one of the most wonderful operations of mind or matter. We can form some faint idea of the impression which an object — say a ruin — makes on the mind through the medium of the eye ; — but how memory can fix it there — or, at all events, reproduce it, voluntarily or involuntarily, twenty or thirty years afterwards, is most mysterious ! Now all anatomists agree that the whole structure of the brain is re- peatedly renewed in the course of life — there being no particle of the same organ in manhood which had existed in youth. Yet an image impressed on the sensorium in early life, is often recalled in age, after the whole material tablet on which it was engraved, has been removed. This would seem to indicate that memory is a function connected with something beyond the boundary of matter. This, how'ever, like every faculty or function of mind, is manifested through the instrumentality of matter. Although the brain cannot think, per se, neither can the mind render thought obvious without the brain — and so of memory. The brain cannot recall past impressions without mind, nor can the mind retain them without the material organ. The memory decays with the body, or is temporarily deranged by the disorders of its material seat, the brain, in compliance with the laws that affect all the other mental faculties. It is greatly impaired by intemperance in spirituous liquors, the drunkard often becoming nearly bereft of memory at the age of forty or fifty. When a man has taken a bottle of wine, even when in perfect health, his memory becomes treacherous on subjects and names which he distinctly recollects when he is sober next day. This shews that the excitement of wine, while it exalts the imagination, impairs the memory — and, I need hardly say, clouds the judgment. There is no artificial means of recruiting the memory, but by keeping the brain as free as possible from excitement — especially of spirituous potations. But, as I said before, Attention is the parent of Memory, and one half of our complaints respecting weak memory originates in inattention. We neglect to observe — and we say we forget. The want of laudable ctiriosity is a great source of weak impressions — and, consequently, of defective memory. The first time I crossed the Tyber, in company with an English country-gentleman, I was bored with an account of horses and horse-racing. After passing the Milvian bridge, 182 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. I asked him what river that was that looked so muddy and yellow’. “ River ! said he, I saw no river.” I pointed out the turbid stream behind us, and told him it was the celebrated Tyber. He acknowdedged that he had passed it unobserved. Now any particulars that escaped this gentleman’s observation would assuredly be put down to the account of a treacherous memory. I once visited Staffa, in company w r ith an elderly gentleman who had returned from India with a good fortune. He sat down on a block of basalt, at the entrance of Fingal’s Cave, while the rest of the company were examining the interior of this “ cathedral built by Nature.” On returning to the steamer, he re- marked that he had been a great fool for coming so far, and getting sea-sick, “ to see a huge heap of great stones.” On the top of Ben Cruachan, afterwards, he ate a hearty luncheon, while I was contem- plating the magnificent panorama, the scenery of which attracted not his attention. How could Staffa or Ben Cruachan remain in the me- mory, when the images were so faintly impressed on the sensorium ? We are told by metaphysicians that memory is not entirely under the command of the will — that we cannot always recollect when we please — nor banish recollections when they arise, by an act of volition. They are greatly mistaken. We can instantly forget an old friend or intimate acquaintance, if he has happened to fall into misfortunes and poverty — and recall him as suddenly to mind, when he emerges into opulence or power. Our memory is singularly tenacious of any injury we have re- ceived from a neighbour — and equally treacherous as to favours con- ferred on us by a friend who is now in need. The effects of avocations and offices on the memory is often remarkable. Ministers and heads of departments, civil, military, and naval, have, ex officio, most treacherous memories as to promises made to aspirants for places, pensions, and promotions. Parents are apt to forget that they ever were young — and children that they are ever to be old. Matrimony sometimes affects the memory in a peculiar and partial manner. We often find the husband forget the words “ cherish and support,” — while the wife loses recol- lection of the words “ honour and obey.” I never knew a lady forget the exact amount of her pin-money. The sight of beauty often causes forgetfulness of other qualities, in the male spectator. “ If to her lot some female errors fall. Look in her face, and you’ll forget them all.” In the female spectator, however, the sight of beauty has often a MKMORY. 183 directly contrary effect. I knew a lady who complained bitterly of her memory, and declared her belief that she would soon forget her own name. Yet she remembered not only the names, but the ages of all her female friends — especially if they were -on the wrong side of thirty. Tenacity and treachery of memory run very much in families. The nobleman seldom forgets his high ancestral pedigree — the plebeian rarely remembers the names or professions of his forefathers. That memory and forgetfulness are acts of volition, I will give the testimony of Blackstone — who was surely a judge. He charges the jury (and the example is followed by all judges since his days) to forget everything they may have seen, heard, or felt, prior to the trial, and to remember nothing but what comes out during the evidence in court. Surely grave and learned men on the Bench would not enjoin that which is incom- patible with human powers — ergo, we can remember and forget, at pleasure. But deficiency of memory, which most people complain of, as a great misfortune, ought really, according to Pope, to be regarded as a special advantage. “ Thus in the soul where memory prevails, The solid power of understanding fails : — Where beams of bright imagination play, The memory’s soft figures melt away.” This doctrine of Pope, or rather of Bolinbroke, is somewhat ques- tionable as to the soundness of its philosophy. It is difficult to con- ceive how the understanding can be injured by a retentive memory — or how indeed it can be built up without this necessary faculty. If the bricks and blocks of marble begin to crumble down as soon at they are collected, the edifice will hardly swell into the majestic temple. And so it is with facts and knowledge of every kind. Unless they are re- tained in the memory to be worked up by reflection, the understanding will be defective. And yet there is some truth in the above dogma. Thus, a man who has a very retentive memory, employs himself more in storing up the facts, observations, and reasonings of others, than in digesting them in his own mind and drawing conclusions for himself. His memory is an immense granary, from which he can draw at plea- sure, and repeat by rote ; securing to himself the credit of learning among all his auditors — and talent amongst a majority of them. But this strength of memory, w’here it does not accompany or lead to indo- lence of reflection, proves the soundest basis for the understanding and 184 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. judgment. As for imagination, it can do nothing without memory. The greatest poetical genius that ever existed, can only combine, mo- dify, or exaggerate images and facts impressed on the mind through the medium of the senses. Shakespeare may have “ exhausted worlds but I deny that he “ imagined new.” I defy his warmest admirers to produce a single offspring of his imagination that is not a type or com- bination of sensible objects presented to his and to every man’s mind in this our own globe. Take, for instance, his Caliban, which is one of the best specimens of his imagination. No one, of course, ever saw such a creature. But there is not a single part, or particle of his composition, from his hide to his hoof, which has not its representative in nature. He merely combined parts which are separated and dispersed through other animals. Thus we may draw or imagine a figure with the head of a cock, the neck of a horse, the body of a lion, and the legs of an ele- phant. But is there any new creation here ? None. The fancy com - bines heterogeneous parts already known — and then we have a wonderful effort of genius — a splendid creature of the imagination — a Caliban. Now the greater the number of facts and observations that have been accumulated, the more retentively they have been kept in the memory , and the more assiduously they have been worked up by reflection — the more powerful will be the imagination in combining in one figure a variety of disjointed parts that are never seen as a whole in Nature. And this is one of the grand attributes of our immortal Bard. It ex- tends to the morale as well as to the physique. The sentiments of Caliban and Prospero — of Ariel and Miranda, were suggested by obser- vation and reflection, just as much as their figures and faces. It is not therefore true that Shakespeare or the poet he describes, has been able to give to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. If w T e look to Homer, we find that his heroes are only men — and his gods and goddesses but mortals with wings. He can cloathe Jupiter himself only with thunder and lightning for his celestial weapons — and Apollo is obliged to use bows and arrows. If he had assigned his warriors, at the siege of Troy, either pistols or cannon, w T e might have given him credit for creating some image or figure, of which he had neither heard nor seen any thing. But he has done nothing of the kind — for the best of all reasons. Milton, indeed, has introduced artillery into Heaven ; but, unfortunately for his creative genius, it was previously introduced MEMORY. 1 So on earth. Satan could not portray his mother, Sin, in any but human shape distorted. “ Whence and what art thou execrable shape ?” And so the sculptor, who cliisselled the Medicean Venus, could only select the best parts and features from other beauties, and combine them in one. Shakespeare reversed the plan when he drew the portrait of Caliban. The moral or useful deduction which we are to draw from such dis- quisition is this — the more facts we collect — the more we reflect on these facts — and the more tenacious the memory is, both of the facts and re- flections — the better will be the “ understanding” — and the brighter will be the “ imagination.” Let youthful poets ponder on this, and not flatter themselves that the fertility of their imagination will com- pensate for careful observation, mature reflection, and retentive memory. If they do, they will find themselves woefully mistaken. But although we often injure the memory — although we often blame it when we ought to blame our inattention — and, what is worse, although the memory is amongst the first of the mental faculties to fail — yet there is no doubt that mens’ memories are as various as their abilities or com- plexions, namely, that some are naturally retentive — others irretentive, dependent on some unknown quality of the brain itself. On this account we are led to ask, can the memory be improved or fortified ? Un- doubtedly it can. Every faculty of the mind, as well as the body itself, maybe strengthened by exercise, and weakened by idleness. The surest method of improving the memory is by early and regular cultivation of the attention. The latter, as I before observed, is the parent of the former — and it is in the power of every individual to employ it. But the most assiduous attention will be comparatively inefficient, without the habit of reflection on the objects presented to the senses. Reflection arranges the materials in the mind, and tends to rivet them in the memory. Nine-tenths of the differences which we find in the memo- ries of men, are attributable to the different degrees of attention which they pay to surrounding objects and passing events — and also to their habits of reflection or non-reflection afterwards. Thus, two men sail up the Rhine in the steamer. One of them directs minute attention to every old ruin, precipice, rock, declivity, village or vineyard on the romantic banks of the stream. The other spends half the time in chatting to his b b 18 <> ECONOMY OF HEALTH. neighbours, casting a careless look occasionally at the moving panorama, without making any reflections whatever on the mouldering monuments of other times that meet the eye at every sinuosity of the river, or on the history or legends connected with them. Whose memory, of these two individuals, admitting that they were naturally equal in compass, will remain most charged with the romantic scenery of the Rhine ? I need not answer this question — it is already answered in every reader’s mind. I may add that, after careful attention to, and subsequent re- flection on, surrounding objects, although the names and minute circum- stances may fade from the memory, in the course of time, the great features will always rise at will and in vivid colours on the mind’s eye. I know this from personal and general experience. It is now ten years since I first crossed the Simplon — and never since — yet every tourniquet and gallery — every frowning precipice and yawning gulf — every chilling glacier and dripping grotto — every pine-capt cliff and roaring torrent — are as fresh in the mental mirror as when first impressed on the tablet of my memory — which is by no means a retentive one.* It is all owing to attention and reflection. These I strongly recommend to the reader — especially before the period arrives when the memory begins naturally to decay. There are some admonitions that are applicable to the seventh, but still more to the eighth Septenniad. In these periods, the moral as well as the physical aptitudes to receive and to retain impressions are dimi- nished, and our habits are firmly rooted. Hence the danger of embark- ing in any new pursuit, avocation, or enterprize, to which ambition (now in the ascendant) is constantly prompting mankind. Every avo- cation or pursuit requires a certain amount of elementary knowledge, which can only be properly acquired in youth; when the susceptibilities are keen, and the memory retentive. It is not, therefore, in middle age, that we are to expend our time and energies in such acquirements — but rather to work upon the materials of knowledge previously stocked up. Thus we see men labouring at the study of new languages after the age of forty — or embarking in entirely new professions or vocations. Nothing can be more injudicious — for failure is almost the invariable * I made no memorandum or note during the transit, and described this celebrated pass entirely from memory, during an hour or two at the Hotel of Domo d'Ossolo — See “ Change of Air,” 4th Ed. BANGER OF CHANGING HABITS AND PURSUITS. 18 / result. In the middle ages, our judgment is matured, and we should then mould and direct the materials in our possession, rather than accu- mulate fresh stores. This principle applies to another subject of no small interest — the contracting matrimonial alliances after the seventh Septenniad. Old maids, old bachelors, old widows, and old widowers — a formidable pha- lanx ! — will, no doubt, declare war against me, on account of the senti- ments which I am going to deliver. None of them will follow my advice (if they can help it) — few of them will approve my counsel — but many of them will acknowledge, ’when too late, the truth of my opinions! These opinions are not deduced from inadequate data, nor are they grounded on superficial observation. They are the result of mature reflection, and they can hardly be suspected of any personal motive or misanthropic impulse. They may be erroneous ; but they are, at least, conscientious. When matrimonial alliances are formed after the seventh Septenniad, they are generally effected under circumstances of great disparity in age. An elderly gentleman marries a young wife — or a matronly lady espouses a youthful husband. In both cases, money is the usual equipoise thrown into the scale to adjust the balance of years — the counterfort (as an engineer would say) to prop up the decline of life. But gold remains the same, or grows lighter, while infirmities accumulate. The balance is soon broken, and the inequilibrium becomes every day more glaring, till the scales are in the position of the Zenith and the Nadir ! The false step is perceived when it cannot be retraced — and disappointment, if not misery, is the result ! That there are exceptions to this rule, I do not deny — but that they are more frequently apparent than real, I am inclined to suspect. It will clearly be the interest and object of both contracting parties to con- ceal the disappointment and portray the blessings of the alliance. When a man finds that he has purchased a bad horse, he is unusually eloquent in his praises of the animal. It is not impossible that animals, of a higher order, in the scale of creation, than even the horse, have sometimes received unmerited eulogy. Be this as it may, I am con- vinced, from no narrow range of observation, that great disparity in years can rarely be compensated by disparity in wealth or in rank. I base my conclusions on some knowledge of human nature, namely, a knowledge of the moral and physical constitution of man — and woman 188 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. too — in our present state of existence. Those who expect that the general laws of Nature may bend to accommodate particular circum- stances and individual wishes, will find, when too late, that the fore- going exposition is a truth — perhaps unpalatable, but certainly salutary. It is in the eighth Septenniad that certain mementos, which had faintly announced themselves previously, now obtrude their unwelcome presence so unequivocally, as not to be mistaken or overlooked. These are the changes which years effect in the hair, the eyes, the teeth, the complexion, the features, and many other organs and functions in the human frame. It becomes too manifest at this period, that fifty Winters did not roll over our heads, without leaving indelible marks of wear and tear ! It is now but too evident that the tenement we inhabit, though constructed with infinite skill, is yet but one of clay — that it is failing in its whole fabric — that, though it may be propt up for a time, it is insusceptible of thorough repair — in fine, that the mansion must be vacated at the expiration of the lease, and the materials left to moulder into the dust from which they originally sprung ! It is about this time, indeed, that the conviction comes home to the mind of the tenant, that the very same implements and mechanism which raised the proud edi- fice to its highest elevation, are now gradually, but perceptibly, dilapi- dating the walls and undermining the foundation ! “ Nascentes morimur, finisque ab origine pendet.” One might expect that, with all these unequivocal warnings, man (the only animal on this globe who recognizes the ebb of life, and is aware that it ends in death) would slacken his pace in the career of ambition, and relax his grasp in the pursuit of wealth. Yet he does nothing of the kind ! On the contrary, the lust of power and the love of gold (espe- cially the latter) augment rather than decrease as the goal is approached where both objects must be abandoned for ever ! The fact is, that these propensities are instincts implanted inhuman nature, over which Reason has but partial control. Religion can do more ; but neither of these can eradicate an instinct, which is a kind of moral appetite, as naturally appertaining to mind, as hunger or thirst to the body. The moral ap- petites are not the less wisely given, because, like the physical, they are much abused. Were it not for these powerful instinctive impulses, man, as soon as he saw that his days were necessarily bounded within a very narrow span, would abandon all mental exertion, and limit his labours to the mere gratification of his corporeal senses . But the Omniscient Creator INSTINCTIVE MORAL IMPULSES. 189 foresaw this evil, and effectually obviated it, by irresistible moral in- stincts. It is for Religion, Morality, Reason, and Philosophy, to res- train these instinctive impulses, as much as possible, within salutary bounds — it is for the visionary enthusiast to denounce them as wicked propensities infused into the human mind by the Father of Evil, and to be extinguished by austerity or fanaticism.* But although the warnings and admonitions abovementioned, are not sufficient to wean the mind of man from the affairs of this world, and to direct it to the concerns of another, they are by no means passed over unnoticed. On the contrary, they are viewed with the utmost solicitude. The three kingdoms of Nature, and the four quarters of the globe, are ransacked in search of any and every material that may repair, palliate, or conceal, the ravages of time or disease on the corporeal fabric. If an accurate estimate of the number of human beings employed in these various avocations, could be formed, it would astonish the world. It might not, probably, be exceeding the truth, if it were calculated that, in the British Isles alone, a quarter of a million of people are daily ex- ercised, directly or indirectly — as manrights. The head engineers — the doctors, surgeons, apothecaries, dentists, oculists, aurists, &c. &c. though a formidable phalanx in themselves, are a mere drop in the ocean, compared with the myriads of subordinate agents engaged in collecting and preparing the materials for those who apply them ! And, after making due allowance for the useless or injurious measures that are em- ployed in the hope of remedying defects or concealing deformities, man- kind draws a prodigious amount of succour and solace from this maga- zine. I will only adduce one or two instances. What a source of pleasure, comfort, and happiness, is found in apiece of glass, by which the human eye, in age, is enabled to recover and maintain the focus of youth — and thus to enjoy the beauties of Nature, and peruse the effusions of genius, to the latest years of existence ! Whether or not the ancients * It is impossible to read the life of Cowper, the Poet, without coming to the conclusion that the greater part of his life was passed in a state of insanity. But that insanity was dreadfully exasperated by the insane conduct of some of his friends — especially that fanatic Newton, who dragged the melancholy hypochondriac through all the mazes of a visionary system of religion, expecting a miraculous interposition of the Deity, in favour of the poor poet, instead of placing him under the care of a physician to check, if possible, the corporeal disorder, of which the mental delusion was the effect , or outward symptom ! The unhappy bard was sacrificed, body and mind, by injudicious friends ! too ECONOMY OF HEALTH. enjoyed the luxury of spectacles, I am not certain. I apprehend that they did not. And if so, the moderns have an advantage over them which is incalculable ! In respect to the teeth, I think it very probable that the ancients did not experience the premature decay of these most useful and ornamental instruments, to such an extent as is now witnessed. But lengthened years must have demolished the teeth in all ages ; and it is quite certain that our forefathers were deprived, or rather unpossessed of the opera- tions and inventions of dentists — excepting, perhaps, the rude and pain- ful extraction of teeth that were never to be replaced. The amount of advantage conferred on mankind by the substitution of artificial organs of mastication and speech, when the natural organs are destroyed, is prodigious, as regards health and happiness — leaving aside the deformity and mortification attendant on toothless gums. If the healing art has introduced a host of unprincipled quacks and impostors — and if the art itself is necessarily conjectural in some de- gree ; yet it confers on mortal man a great boon. It averts or cures many diseases that would otherwise be fatal. And even where it cannot avert the malady, or arrest its career, it inspires hope, and thus strews the path to the grave with flowers, which, without it, would be planted with thorns, tortured with pains, and clouded with despair ! Those who, in health, are most prone to scoff at medicine, are those who, when overtaken with the pangs of disease, are most eager, and even impatient to implore its aid. It is not, indeed, at the last struggle which marks the liberation of the immortal tenant from its shattered and falling mansion, that the keenest agony is felt, or the consolation of the Divine and the Physician is most wanted. It is in the long and rugged avenue of sickness which leads to the peaceful grave, that the balm of friendship, the support of re- ligion, and the anodyne of the physician, is truly needed and gratefully acknowledged. It is in the Eighth Septenniad, that certain spontaneous changes take place in the balance of the human constitution, which, though not actu- ally forming the Grand Climacteric, create the materials which render that epoch critical, if not dangerous. After the age of 50, the muscles lose much of their elasticity and aptitude for action — partly from time, partly from sedentary avocations, — and partly from indolence. But this diminution of muscular activity is not usually attended with a corres- OBESITY. 191 ponding diminution of relish for the pleasures of the table. Very often the increase of this relish is proportioned to the decrease of inclination for exercise. The consequences may be easily imagined. Obesity is the result of too much nutriment, and too little expenditure of that nutriment in mus- cular exertion. The body enlarges in size, especially about the seat of the digestive organs — layer after layer of fat is deposited in the abdo- men — and, in fine, a portly corporation is formed, which destroys the symmetry of the figure, and indisposes still further to healthful bodily exercise. These, however, would be trifling evils in themselves. They lead to much greater ones. The balance of the circulation is disturbed, and a greater impulse of blood is directed to the head. The pressure of corpulency on the great vessels descending through the abdominal organs, determines inevitably the afflux of blood to the upper part of the body, and lays the foundation of numerous and dangerous diseases in this or in the succeeding Septenniads. It is at this period, that we hear people complaining of various feelings and phenomena about the head, which are too often disregarded, or attributed to indigestion, when, in reality, they are precursors of apoplexy, paralysis, or damage of the intellectual powers. Giddiness, head-aches, forgetfulness, drowsiness, noise in the ears, specks before the eyes, numbness of some of the upper or lower limbs, diminution of sensation or muscular power, thickness of speech, tremors, confusion of thought, when any important mental ope- ration is to be performed — these and many other warnings of this kind which, if attended to in time, might render the Grand Climacteric of the next Septenniad, much less hazardous, if not positively safe, are too often trifled with till the mischief is irremediable. Even at this eleventh hour, many bad habits may be corrected — many good habits fostered — many dispositions to disorder checked. Those causes which tend to induce obesity or corpulence generally, tend to in- duce fulness of the vessels of the brain, and to weakness of those vessels. Congestions in other organs, as the lungs, liver, &c. are also the usual consequences of corpulence. And what are these causes ? Indulgence of the appetite and of indolence. The latter, indeed, is the natural sequence of the former. In the eighth Septenniad, luxurious eating and drinking incapacitate us for a proper degree of bodily exercise, and take away all desire for it. The evil is increased by the declining powers of digestion, at a period when the excitement resulting from indulgences 192 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. of the table is most relished. Hence the great organs become oppressed, not only by the too great daily supply, but by the remains of preceding repasts still lingering in the body. The best remedies or preventives will not be adopted by one in one thousand — temperance and exercise. But many will adopt the second best means of preventing diseases and pre- mature death. These are, light food and drink, with constant attention to the great safety-valve — the bowels. To which ought to be added, exercise, either active or passive, daily, between breakfast and dinner. If, in the eighth Septenniad, when a disposition to corpulency appears, attended with any of the warnings already mentioned, the individual does not, at once, abandon turtle-soup and Champagne, and confine himself to fish, poultry, game, and pudding, with a moderate portion of light wine, daily aperient medicine, and exercise in the open air, he may calculate on a visitation, in that or the next Septenniad, of apoplexy, paralysis, dropsy, or other disease that will cut short the thread of ex- istence, — or render life a burthen instead of a blessing. This is the admonition of long experience and extensive observation. It is a prescription without a fee, and worth at least three times the price of the book in which it is contained. If adopted, it will save many a valuable life — prevent many a domestic calamity — and insure much individual happiness. GOUT.* Gout, like consumption, is often hereditary — often acquired. In the former disease we are punished for the sins of our forefathers — in the latter , for their misfortunes ! — This seems hard ; but so it is. Large volumes have been written on this painful malady — not perhaps with the object, but certainly with the effect, of mystifying its nature, obscuring its causes, and complicating its treatment. In a very few pages may be concentrated most of what is really known, and much of what can be honestly communicated respecting this dire affliction. It is a near * The location of this disease in an) 7 particular Septenniad is rather arbitrary. It has been witnessed in all periods of life, from infancy to old age. Its causes are often laid very early ; but, generally speaking, it is a disorder that displays itself most con- spicuously after the meridian of life — after the fifth or sixth Septenniad. I have placed it in the eighth Septenniad, as that in which it begins to press heavily on the constitution. — 2d Edition. GOUT, 193 relative — perhaps the original representative of the Patho-Proteian family already described in this Essay. It is, in general, the offspring of indulgence and indolence, though often acknowledging many other parents. Every one of those numerous causes which lead to indiges- tion, may be classed as contributaries to gout. Cullen defined it an hereditary disease — and indeed it pretty regularly descends with encum- bered estates, thus forming the duplicate title to disorder of body and anxiety of mind. In earlier periods, gout was a badge of nobility — or at least of riches ; for affluence only could afford to be luxurious. Afterwards commerce brought wealth, and the means of pampering the appetite, with ample causes for impairing the digestion. Gout then descended a step lower in the world, and extended its ravages much wider in society. Still later, civilization and refinement introduced additional sorrows and vexations of spirit : — and, now, the once proud badge of ancestral pride and hereditary honours, is affixed to the most mushroom escutcheons — nay, it pays its unwelcome visits to the cottage of the peasant and the workshop of the mechanic ! Gout, whether hereditary or acquired, is only the last link in a long chain of morbid phenomena, to which it generally proves a crisis for the time. It seldom explodes without premonitory symptoms and adequate causes. The causes are all those which disorder the digestive organs — but chiefly luxurious diet and indolence. The regular drunkard is sel- dom the subject of gout. He becomes the prey of liver disease, and dies of dropsy. It is on the gourmand that gout falls most heavily ; though when the hereditary taint is strong, the most rigid temperance and the most systematic exercise will not always stave off the evil. They will greatly mitigate its severity, however, and amply repay the sacrifice that is made. But causes the most varied and opposite will derange the process of digestion — and this disturbance will, in a small number, induce gout — in the multitude, it will produce a worse evil — - the Proteian malady — the hydra-headed dyspepsy. In respect to the premonitory or warning symptoms, they are those of indigestion — flatulence, acidity, distention of stomach, failure of appe- tite, disrelish of accustomed food, constipation, secretion of uric acid in the kidneys, depression of spirits, irritability of temper, troubled sleep, &c. &c. &c. It is curious, however, that, in a few instances, just before the attack, the feeling of health is stronger than usual, as if c c J94 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. Nature wound herself up, and collected all her energies for the ap- proaching conflict. In the simpler forms and earlier attacks of gout, the pain comes on in the night, usually in the great toe, but sometimes in the heel or instep. The agony resembles that of a dislocated joint — and symptoms of febrile movements soon succeed, as chilliness, quickness of pulse, and thirst. The paroxysm gradually increases in intensity for 18 or 20 hours, abating a little the next evening, to be renewed in the night with absence of all chance of sleep or rest. The afflicted victim is inces- santly shifting his position, without ever attaining ease ! Towards morning of the second day, there is often a remission, or even solution of the fit, where the constitution is good, and the malady recent. But the attacks vary from 24 hours to as many days, the intervals of im- munity being also of various duration, from two or three years, to three or four months, or even weeks. At first, the paroxysm is succeeded by a renewed state of health and vigour, and the foot is not at all disabled ; but, in process of time, as the paroxysms become multiplied and lengthened, successive joints are invaded, till at length the feet and hands are rendered almost useless, and converted into misshapen masses. The enemy now invests the citadels of life, the heart, brain, or stomach, and carries off its victims in one of these unequal combats ! Sydenham, who suffered 35 years from gout, has detailed a host of minute and anomalous symptoms which precede or accompany gout, and modern authors have extended the catalogue. But a great propor- tion of these ailments had no necessary connexion with gout itself, but were the effects of its causes — namely, disorders of the digestive organs. But this supposed connexion led, and every day leads to most injurious measures of treatment. Gout being considered as a critical elimination of some peccant humour in the body, cordials, stimulants, and gene- rous diet were exhibited by way of keeping up the energy of the con- stitution, and throwing off the evil by a paroxysm of the malady. In this way, gout was increased in force, and accelerated in its returns, instead of being prevented by the withdrawal of its causes. The Portland powders did mischief enough in their day. The tonics and bitters of our own times are only different modes of doing similar mis- chief. As prevention is better than cure, and as full feeding and indolent r.OUT. 195 habits are the chief causes of gout, so temperance and exercise are the most certain preventives. Those who inherit the gouty constitution have the greatest need of early habits of simplicity of diet. There is no necessity for extreme abstinence, for this indeed would often do more harm than good. He who wishes to avoid the pains and penalties of gout, should dine almost always on tender meat and stale bread, eaten very slowly, and drink weak brandy and water, or moderately of good sherry wine. The quantity should be guided by the feelings of the individual. The golden rule is to avoid satiety, and to leave off with the power of eating more. In fine, the same diet that prevents or cures indigestion is strictly applicable to gout. All food of difficult digestion, all acids, and, in general, malt liquors should be avoided, though the quantity is of still more consequence than the quality of our nutri- ment. This simplicity and temperance of diet is within the reach of all — though only a few will adopt it till too late. Exercise is also within the power of many — not of all. Where neither the one nor the other will be adopted or steadily pursued, there are artificial means of greatly lessening the gouty disposition, and greatly mitigating the force of the paroxysms.* Where regular (not violent) exercise cannot or will not be taken, frictions are a kind of substitute. By these simple means I have known many who have warded off, or considerably mitigated the paroxysms of * The following preventives have succeeded better than any other merely remedial means. The bowels should be regulated by No. 1, taken every second or third night, according to the strength of the predisposition. No. 2 should be taken once a fortnight, or once a month, according to the hereditary or acquired tendency. No. 1. Ji. Ext. col. comp. Pil. rheicomp aa 5ss. — Hydrarg gr. viij. Ipecac, pulv gr. iv. 01. carui gt. v. Ft. pil.xvj. Capt. ij. alternis vel tertiis noctibus. No. 2. p>. Infus.rhei ^iss. Magnes. carb gr. x. Tart, sodse 3ij. Vini colchic Tinct. rhei comp 3j. sennse 5j. Ft. haustus primo mane sumendus. Semel vel bis in mense. 196 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. gout. They are means which cannot do injury in almost any con- stitution. TREATMENT DURING AN ATTACK. In former times, from some indefinite idea that gout threw out some peccant humour from the constitution, and thus gave it a kind of tem- porary renovation, the mode of treatment, by “ patience and flannel,” protracted and exasperated the attacks. In modern times, men ran into the contrary extreme. They plunged the feet into cold water, and leeched the parts as if affected by common inflammation after a wound or contusion. This latter plan, though it often cut short the paroxysm in strong constitutions and in primary attacks, yet it also did sometimes transfer the gout from the extremities to an internal organ, and thus endangered or destroyed life. A more rational doctrine led to a less dangerous practice. A medium has been adopted that avoids both ex- tremes. When the attack takes place, the inflamed part should be kept constantly wet with a spirituous lotion applied warm, and the clothes wetted whenever they get dry.* By keeping a loose flannel over the wetted clothes, the parts will be constantly in a kind of vapour-bath, and the pain and inflammation will be greatly mitigated and curtailed. Leeches will seldom be neces- sary, except in young people, or in plethoric constitutions. This is all the topical treatment that is necessary. The farrago of local applica- tions is sheer charlatanism. But the chief means of safely curtailing the paroxysm of gout are by internal remedies. These must vary under different states of constitu- tion, but the remedies mentioned below are those which may be safely employed in almost every case, though others may be occasionally necessary.! * The following is a safe and efficient application P>. Liq. ammon. acet ^ v - Mist, camphorae 3 V J- Spir. vin. tenu £j. Misce fiat lotio. t At Night. Ijt. Pulv. ipecacuanhae comp., gr. x. Sub. hydrargyri gr. ij. Pulv. zingiberis gr. ij. Pt. pulvis hora somni sumendus ex vehiculo crasso. GOUT. 197 The paroxysm will often be carried off by one or two doses of this medicine. If not, it may be repeated for three or four nights and mornings. If the attack is not reduced by that time, patience and milder means must be employed till the disease has expended its vio- lence. These means must be left to the discretion of the attendant practitioner. But it must ever be borne in mind that the remedies for the actual paroxysm of gout only repel the enemy for a time. He will speedily return, unless the preventive means of temperance and exercise, with all those precautions which are necessary for the prevention of indigestion, be steadily kept in force. It is through the medium of the digestive organs that gout is developed, and consequently it is by keeping them in the best possible order, that the malady is prevented.* * In the Morning. JT Infusi rhei ^iv. Pulv. rhei 9j. Tart, sodae 5iij. Vini colchici 5 j. Magnesias carb gr. xv. Tinct. rhei compos ^iij. sennae ^iij. jalapae 3 iss. Misce ft. mistura, capiat tertiam partem primo mane, et repetetur dosis alternis horis donee alvus respondeat. * As I have entered into a minute detail of the means of preventing and remedying indigestion in a work which has gone through nine editions, it would be useless to enter upon the subject more at large in this place, especially as that work is more widely diffused than this can ever hope to be. 198 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. NINTH SEPTENNIAD. [56 to 63 .] GRAND CLIMACTERIC. In the ascent of a mountain, our steps are slow, and the miles appear long ; but, in the descent, on the other side, our paces are quick, and the space which we traverse seems short. It is so in the journey of human life. In youth, and before the meridian is attained, each year appears almost as long as a Septenniad. In the decline of life, each Septenniad seems little more than a year ! It is in the latter, or post meridiem part of the journey, that we begin to notice the swiftness of time, and to ap- preciate duly the value, as well as the shortness of life ! Every day offers materials for reflection on the past, and retrospection instinctively veers round to prospective glances into the future. It is said by the poet that — “ Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate. All but the page prescribed — their present state.” This is perfectly true, as respects animals ; but does not strictly apply to man. The ox and the sheep see their companions slaughtered, without any apprehension of death. The startling sight of blood, and the groans or struggles of their murdered mates, occasion terror, and prompt them to escape — not from death, but from injury. The love of life and the fear of death are different things. The former is instinctive , and is implanted as strongly in the breast of the meanest reptile, as in that of man himself. The latter is rational and peculiar to man — the only ani- mal who learns that he must die — and the only animal who believes that there is another world, where his actions in this one may be taken into account. It is very true that man knows not the when and the where he is to “ shuffle off this mortal coil ;** but every insurance office can in- form him, with much more precision and truth than the oracle of Apollo, what is the probable number of his days. In this Septenniad, indeed, the most obtuse intellect cannot help perceiving the annual — almost the monthly descent of his oldest friends and acquaintances into the grave. This is not noticed in the earlier Septenniads, because, in fact, there is not then such a marked mortality amongst those of our own age, and GRAND CLIMACTERIC. 199 consequently amongst those with whom we are most intimately ac- quainted. But, after the meridian, our attention is strongly drawn to the lapses of life, occurring amongst personages whose images are irrevo- cably implanted in our memories ; — and sombre reflection on the short- ness and instability of human existence is unavoidable. In this Septenniad, the love of money takes the decided lead over the love of sex — and even over ambition. We see, indeed, occasional — perhaps too many — alliances between January and May, at this period ; but they are unhallowed unions, destined soon to dissolve ! When Love, at the age of 60, pushes aside Ambition and Avarice, it is the ghost of boyish passion resuscitated for a moment from the grave — and, like other ghosts, soon to vanish from the stage. But the most important feature of the Ninth Septenniad is, the Grand Climacteric — an epoch that has been regarded, in all ages, with some- thing like mysterious awe, as the most critical in human life. Popular opinions of this kind are generally based on observation, however in- accurate, and are rarely the offspring of mere fancy, or a superstitious combination of numbers. Nine times seven forms a remarkable — indeed an appalling multiple, and very few can apply it to themselves, without feelings of the penseroso kind ! But the “ Grand Climacteric” is not merely a popular superstition ; it has engaged the attention, and occupied the pen of a modern physi- cian of great distinction. As the Essay was written some twenty years ago, it wants that development which Sir Henry Halford’s further ex- perience would have rendered more valuable. It is not my intention, however, to draw from any other source than the evidence of my own senses on this occasion. The changes in the balance of the constitution which began to shew themselves rather unequivocally in the Eighth Septenniad, become but too conspicuous, as the age of 60 is touched, in a great majority of both sexes. The Ninth Septenniad is clearly the “ fifth age” of Shakespeare, typified by the “ Justice,” possessed of a portly corporation, “ with good capon lined” — “ With eyes severe and beard of formal cut. Full of wise saws and modern instances.” Where corpulency does not obtain at this period, a contrary state not unfrequently commences. The fluids of the body diminish in quantity —the softer parts shrink — and the solid parts, as bones, cartilages, liga- 200 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. merits, &c. become more condensed than ever. The vessels conveying the blood from the heart to all parts of the body, begin to partially ossify (as it is commonly termed), and are thus greatly weakened at the junc- tion of the indurated with the elastic portions, rendering them liable to give way from distention or pressure. The cartilages of the ribs being turned into bone, the chest loses much of its expansive and contractile capabilities, and the breathing is less easy, especially when the body is in motion. The joints grow stiff, and the muscles get flaccid. All the senses become much more obtuse — and the various appetites greatly di- minished — some of them being almost annihilated. By short-sighted man this diminution of enjoyment, in the exercise of the senses and appetites, is keenly deplored, though it is wisely ordained by the Omnis- cient Architect. Were the appetites to remain unimpaired, while the material fabric is necessarily, but gradually breaking down, the weakened organs would be overpowered — and sudden death, or painful maladies would be the consequence. This is sometimes the case, even as it is, when the appetites are stimulated by provocatives, and the tide of en- joyment swells beyond the channels which were destined to confine it. About this period, too, the teeth, in a vast majority of people, become deficient in number, and very inadequate to the important function of mastication — while digestion, already weakened, is thus greatly em- barrassed, by the additional labour imposed on the stomach. All the internal organs growing more torpid, the secretions necessarily get more scanty. The skin itself becomes more dry, shrivelled, and wrinkled — the veins are enlarged and blue, slowly propelling the vital current towards the heart. In fine, every structure and function in the body shew clear and unequivocal marks of deterioration, gradually, but steadily increasing ! Nor do the intellectual faculties remain unaffected, though they do not always evince a strict correspondence with the failure of corporeal functions. Imagination, wit, and memory may flag ; but judgment, understanding, and wisdom remain firm as a rock. Sixty years’ ex- perience indeed of human vicissitudes converts temerity into caution — sanguine hope into cool calculation — castles in the air into habitations a little (and but a little) more durable on earth — credulity into doubt — confidence into suspicion — prodigality into parsimony — and contempt of danger into timidity and love of life. These and various other changes, moral and physical, are so gradual, GRAND CLIMACTERIC. 201 that they cannot be measured by any standard of days, weeks, or months — scarcely indeed of years. But, whether from original defect in the organization, accidental injuries sustained in the journey, or, what is more common, from overworking of the living machine, it not unfre- quently happens that, about the ninth Septenniad (sometimes sooner sometimes later), a marked alteration takes place in the rate of pro- gression, or rather retrogression. In the course of a single year, nay of a few months, the physiognomy will present a singular and inauspi- cious look of deterioration. The character of expression in the coun- tenance is changed — the features are pinched — the eye is lack-lustre — the strength is greatly diminished — the flesh wasted or bloated — the voice feeble — the gait unfirm — the appetite in abeyance — the thirst often troublesome — the spirits unaccountably depressed ; and all this, without any tangible or visible disease, to explain the sudden declension of the various physical powers ! This is the Climacteric itself ; but not the Climacteric disease. The functions are greatly impaired ; but no vital organ has, as yet, been affected in structure. The truth is, that the organs of daily supply are now inadequate to repair the daily waste — and the laws of vitality are no longer able to counteract the chemical law T s of decomposition. The whole material fabric is therefore gradually crumbling down. But I believe that very few touch the final goal of existence in this way — at least I have seen no example of the kind. This general dilapidation — this universal decadence of functional power having obtained, for a longer or shorter period, some particular organ or class of organs, gives way in function or structure more than the others, and then we have the “ Climacteric disease .” Thus the absorbents are frequently the first to fail in their office, — the ancles swell — and effusions take place into the cavities of the brain, chest, or abdomen, with corresponding symptoms. If the effusion be in the head, we have drowsiness, loss of memory, thickness of speech, diminution of muscular power, partial paralysis — and finally, apoplexy of the watery kind. If the effusion be in the chest, we have cough, embarrassed respiration, inability to lie low in bed, breathlessness in ascending stairs, &c. &c. If the effusion be in the abdomen, dropsy is the “ Climacteric disease.’" If the organs of digestion and nutrition be the first to give way (which is very often the case), then we have atrophy or general wasting of the body — ending in dropsical effusions. ad 202 KCONOMV OF HEALTH. But it not infrequently happens that the heart itself is the organ on which the “ Climacteric disease” falls. It becomes enlarged in size, softened in structure, thinned in its "walls, and imperfect in its valves. The effects of this disease are far more conspicuous in the function of respiration than in that of the circulation. As at the time Sir Henry Halford wrote, we had not the means of distinguishing diseases of the heart, by the stethoscope, which we now have, so the “ climacteric disease” has probably been supposed to fall on the lungs when the heart was the seat of disease.* In the course of a long experience I have met with few instances of this kind. In those cases where the lungs were apparently affected, the heart was the organ primarily and essentially diseased. Every experienced practitioner, indeed, is now well aware of this fact. At the period alluded to, asthma was generally considered an affection of the lungs alone : — at present, it is known that, in nine cases out of ten, it is attributable to, or combined with, disease of the heart. And here we have a most important subject to consider. In the climacteric decline , and before any one particular organ breaks up — when we have a great deterioration of several functions, without marked disease of any one structure, — is there any chance of checking the pro- gress of decay, or staving off, for a time at least, the climacteric disease ? This question is not so easily solved, even by experience, as might be expected — and for this reason — that all the phenomena of the climac- teric decline occasionally present themselves in people who are very far short of the ninth Septenniad — and where recovery often takes place. There is no reason why the same might not occur in the climacteric period, and yet not be the climacteric decline. There is a curious imitation of the Grand Climacteric that manifests itself among young women, from the age of 20 to 30 years, and which I have often ob- served. They appear to be fine plump healthy girls till the above period, when they begin to lose flesh, droop in spirits, grow languid and pale, with defective appetite, torpid secretions, and, in short, a general break up of the health, without any evident cause — without any tangible dis- * “ Of the various immediate causes to which this malady may owe its com- mencement, there is none more frequent than a common cold.” “ When it combines itself with a common cold, the symptoms of catarrh continue to manifest themselves, and to predominate throughout the greater part of the du- ration of the climacteric disease.” — Sir H. Halford. CLIMACTERIC DISEASE. 203 ease of organ or function. It is seldom fatal, though I have known it go on till death closed the scene. More frequently it takes a turn for the better — sometimes without any apparent reason — more often from some love-fit — or marriage — or time, which cures love-melancholy, as well as this erotic decline. Though the cause of this pseudo, or pre- mature climacteric is not always apparent, its real nature rarely escapes the notice of the experienced physician. It is little under the control of drugs ! Whenever the state of society or the times we live in produces an unusual number of old maids , we are sure to find on the sick-list, a pro- portionate number of young maidens. Who does not daily visit fami- lies where three, four, or five beautiful and amiable young ladies, from sixteen to six-and-twenty years of age, are seen sitting round the work- table, or iterating mechanical music at the piano, from month to month — from year to year — “ Nobody coming to woo.” Is it wonderful that this monotonous life, this cheerless prospect, should make serious impression on the sensitive minds of these young creatures? We see the lily gradually usurp the place of the rose, on some of their cheeks — and the state of health which I have just des- cribed, steal slowly over the drooping frame. The parents take alarm — the best advice which the town can afford, is procured — bark, steel, myrrh, camphor, and assafcetida are swallowed — and even good old Port ; but in vain ! The bloom of health refuses to return to the faded cheek — and the doctor is blamed for the inefficacy of physic ! There is but one remedy that promises any advantage in such cases — and that is exercise. The sedentary life which young females lead, and the avocations of music, painting, reading, &c. are all injurious ; and nothing but gradually-increased exercise of the body in the open air offers a chance of checking the moping melancholy of hope deferred and expectations blighted ! But to return from this short digression. In several instances that have come under my own observation, and where all the symptoms of the climacteric decline — and that after the age of 60 — were unequivocal, the constitution has rallied, at least for some years, and the individuals have died at last of other diseases. This has happened where especial care was taken — “ To husband out Life's taper at its close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.” 204 ECONOMY Of HEALTH. It was not, by repose, however, in the ordinary acceptation of the term— by reclining on the sofa — and stimulating a jaded appetite by provoca- tives. The farrago of tonics, cordials, and nutriments, in such cases, only tend to consume the pabulum of life more rapidly, and extinguish the flame more quickly. The repose is that of passive motion in a carriage — if possible in an open one — perpetually changing the air and scene. It is now nearly twenty years since my attention was strongly drawn to the subject, by a remarkable example. A gentleman near the close of the Ninth Septenniad, suddenly fell off, with all the symptoms of the climacteric decline — and some symptoms that indicated the com- mencement of even the climacteric disease. A favourable season pre- sented itself — he was rolled along in an open carriage, daily, for three months, and over a space of 3000 miles. He recovered flesh and strength, and was killed by an accident two years afterwards. Since that period, I have ascertained that several similar instances of recovery have taken place, by a similar procedure ; and I have no doubt that this remedy, where it can be procured, is superior to all others on such occasions as the present. The remarks which I have made on travelling- exercise in the open air, will apply to the present subject with force. The climacteric disease is not confined to a particular part, or a pecu- liar form. It is the breaking- up of function or structure, or both, in the weakest organ of the body. When a function totally or principally fails, there can be little doubt that the structure of the corresponding organ or part must be more or less changed in its molecular organiza- tion, though that change may not be visible to the eye or demonstrable by the scalpel. Although the function of digestion would seem to be the first, or amongst the first to fail, in the climacteric disease, yet is does not ap- pear to be the one which leads directly to the final issue. Defect in assimilation (the conversion of the food into nutritious blood), is much more frequently the cause of the emaciation and debility, than the mere loss of digestive power. Dropsical effusions into the different cavities, especially those of the chest and head, are the most common forerunners of death, in the climacteric disease. The former occasion difficulty of breathing in ascending stairs, with some cough and wheezing : — the latter render the individual drowsy, stupid, forgetful, torpid, palsied — and ultimately apoplectic. The heart, as I said before, is not unfrequcntly the organ on which CXI M A CTJ£ K ! C DI S EASE . 20 .') the climacteric disease falls. It grows flabby in structure — dilated in its cavities — attenuated in its walls — and imperfect in its valves. This is the most common cause of the dropsical effusions, the difficulty of breathing, the cough — and those symptoms which, at a former period, were set down as affections of the lungs. It would be a tedious, and, perhaps, useless task, to detail the various ways in which the climacteric disease winds up the drama of human life. The function of the kidneys often fails, with corresponding change in their structure and secretion. This is a form of the climacteric dis- ease which has been much overlooked, but which is now attracting con- siderable attention. The same may be said of the liver. Defective function in this organ prostrates the strength, and reduces the flesh, in a most extraordinary manner. It arrests nutrition, and thus subverts the powers of life, without producing any very marked phenomena that might awaken suspicion as to the cause. It is humiliating to confess that, in climacteric diseases, palliatives only can be offered by the most skilful physician — and it is little less painful to observe the amount of mischief which is every day inflicted on humanity by rashness, empiricism, and ignorance, in such cases. Modern researches in morbid anatomy, have not enabled us to cure dis- eases that were previously incurable ; but they have shewn us what are and what are not susceptible of remedy. We are thus guarded against doing harm ; whilst the unprincipled charlatan, having no such check on his presumption, administers powerful drugs (for they are not remedies) in complete ignorance of the nature of the malady, and thus precipitates his victim into the grave, or, what is worse, aggravates his sufferings, during the remainder of his life ! Death, from the climacteric malady, is generally easy — and often sud- den, at last. As will be shewn farther on, it is, as nearly as possible, the death of Nature, which is always easy — antedated, indeed, a few years, as to time, and considerably abridged as to duration. There is here no violent struggle between a sound constitution and an accidental illness. It is like the crumbling down, stone after stone, of an ancient castle, compared with the demolition of the same edifice, at an earlier period, by catapultse or cannon. As the mantling ivy procrastinates the fate of the tottering tower ; so, change of air and scene, with the mildest restoratives, will sometimes prolong the existence of the droop- ECONOMY OF HEALTH. 20 0 ing* human fabric, and add a zest to the cup of enjoyment till the bowl of life is drained ! But the climacteric disease is not the only, or even the chief malady of the Ninth Septenniad. Before this period, the balance of the con- stitution begins to be materially altered, and the head encounters many dangers, not only from its own vessels, but from the affections of other organs, especially the heart and the stomach. Apoplexy and paralysis, therefore, are more common in this, than in any preceding — or perhaps succeeding epoch of existence.* It is now that the man of letters, the statesman, the lawyer — all who have worked or over- worked the intel- lect, for years, may dread the failure of its material organ. It was in this Septenniad that the “ Great Unknown,” whose mental lucubra- tions surprised and delighted a hundred millions of the human race, experienced the break-up of that brain, by excessive labour, which might otherwise have sustained the wear and tear of moderate avocation, for many years longer ! Grief and chagrin, no doubt, accelerated the fatal event. The magician’s death may prove a warning to his survivors, not to expect too much from a mechanism so delicately constructed as the material organ of the mind.f Gout, too, having disabled or deformed the feet and hands, begins to shew inclination to attack more vital parts — and, very often, this child of luxury and intemperance turns parricide at last, and destroys the author of its own existence ! It is now too late to think of expelling this offspring of indolence and epicurean indulgence, by exercise and abstemiousness. The ingrate has his victim in his power, and may be soothed, but not bullied. Thousands are annually hurried to their graves * I have placed it, however, at the close of the eighth Septenniad (at the age of 55 or 6) as a period when it often appears. t Sir Walter Scott’s tour to Italy was ill-timed and ill-managed. Worn down by inordinate mental labour, and depressed by pecuniary losses of no mean kind, the excitement of Italy was far too great. Had he travelled in cheerful company through the sublime scenes of Switzerland, his health might have been recruited, and his brain composed to rest. Italy was the very worst place he could have visited in his state of health — and the result was — apoplexy, and slow destruction by its sequence, paralysis ! Byron undermined his health by excitement, though his premature death was occasioned by his own obstinacy in resisting necessary depletion, when overtaken by a high degree of inflammation of brain and lungs ! He had too much confidence in himself, and too little in his medical attendant. DISAPPOINTMENTS OF RETIREMENT. 20 / by the ignorant practice of charlatans who pretend to cure gout at this advanced period of life, by potent medicines that destroy the material tenement in the vain attempt to dislodge the enemy by force, instead of persuasion. At the age of 60, the merchant, the lawyer, the physician — the w r hole of the Bureaucracy, begin to find that labour is not such a pleasure as it was twenty years previously. They love money as much as ever they did, but the pursuit of it is not quite so delightful. Then it is, that they long for retirement in the country, and begin to quarrel wdth the smoke, and dust, and foul air of the city and town. They purchase their villa ; and, for a short time, they are amused with the arrangements and im- provements going on around them. Do they remain contented ? The Roman bard has answered that question, nearly tw r o thousand years ago. “ Amo Tibur Romae — ventoso Tibure Romam.” In London, the distant tranquillity of the country seems a foretaste of Paradise. The haven is found ; — but rural quietude soon begins to w r ear the aspect of irksome solitude — and solitude proves to the mind w r hat starvation is to the body. The pabulum of existence seems to be with- drawn from the citizen’s mind, and he longs for the excitement, the bustle, and the stimulation of the metropolis ! This is not the discon- tent of each with his lot, w r hich Horace alludes to, in liis celebrated ode. It is the result of a physiological, and not a psychological principle. The habits of forty years cannot be changed, w’ith impunity, at the Grand Climacteric. It is then too late — and it is then too early. Too late, to acquire new habits — too early to renounce old ones — the de- crepitude of age not having then arrived. But as it is very clear that the climacteric period is a period of transition, so it would be wdse to make the change from activity to retirement one of gradual, not abrupt transition. Inattention to this has been the rock on which many a valuable life has been w r recked — and the cause of much happiness being turned into misery. Retirement, even at the close of the ninth Sep- tenniad, requires resources which few minds, accustomed to the turmoil of active life, possess. Even the pursuits of literature are feeble substitutes for the previous avocations — unless there be something to write as well as to read. The passive amusement which works of fancy afford, in the perusal, will not always keep off ennui — nor will books demanding close attention of the mind, compensate for the strenuous 208 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. exertion which that mind had undergone for many years in laborious or arduous professions. The mind then is unequal to such a task. About the period of the Grand Climacteric, various moral and physical causes combine to produce a considerable depression of spirits, often amounting to a degree of melancholy. The decline of our corporeal powers would alone induce more or less of this dejection of mind ; but there are many other causes. Very few pass the sixtieth year, without experiencing great tribulations and disappointments, however prosperous may have been their worldly affairs. They must have lost fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, children — and a great majority of their nearest and dearest friends, as well as of their oldest and best-remembered ac- quaintances ! The farther we advance on Time’s list, the more numerous become these mementos of our own doom ; — and reflection on the daily ebb of human existence around us, cannot fail to cast a settled gloom, however slight, over the prospect in advance ! This natural and inevitable depression of spirits is greatly aggravated by the sudden transition from activity to idleness, in retirement from avocation, whatever that avocation may have been. Many examples of this kind have come within my knowledge — some of them tragical — some ludicrous — and some tragi-comic. There are few who cannot call to mind instances of this description. I shall only allude to one. A gentleman, of great talent and industry, who had amassed a princely fortune in an honourable profession, and established an enviable reputa- tion, said to himself, as he closed his sixtieth year ; — “ Now is the time, when my riches are ample, my faculties unclouded, my health unim- paired, to retire from the turmoil of business, and spend the rest of my days among woods and lawns, meadows and cornfields, with Nature smiling round me, and the air itself carrying the balm of salubrity on its wings.”— ^The suggestion was quickly put into execution. A magnifi- cent villa, ample park, and beautiful pleasure-grounds soon owned a new master. The honeymoon of rustic life and rural felicity glided smoothly away, in viewing his domain and receiving visits from the neighbouring gentry. He often exclaimed in the words of the poet — How bless’d the man who crowns, in shades like these, A youth of labour with an age of ease ! But, in a few months, he began to feel that he wanted something, though he knew not what. Like JMiranda, on the enchanted island, there was a link deficient in the chain of contentment. And what was DISAPPOINTMENTS OF RETIREMENT. 209 this undefined something? It was the “ flattering unction ’ which, for thirty years, had been daily applied to the soul by dependents, clients, friends, and the public. For this, the luxuries of the table, the sports of the field, and the beauties of Nature, could not offer a substitute. The incense that is long poured out at the shrine of Fame — no matter how high or low the station in life — from the mean mechanic up to the inspired bard — becomes, in time, as necessary to the happiness of the mind, as food is essential to the existence of the body. This principle was overlooked, or not understood by the talented individual in ques- tion ; but it did not fail the less to operate. Another element, soon afterwards, came into play. The novelty of the rural scene wore out, notwithstanding the excursions into the neighbouring districts — and satiety was the consequence. But satiety, to a mind long accustomed to activity or adulation, rests not stationary. It passes into disgust — too often into despair.* The stately oaks of the park, instead of ex- citing sensations of pride and pleasure, suggested at length, the horrible idea of suicide ! Had not a prudent, and somewhat precipitate retire- ment, from the country to the city, been effected, it is highly probable that the lord of the manor would, ere long, have been found suspended from one of his own trees ! He tugs at the oar to this hour, though he has rounded his 70th Winter — not for love of lucre, but from fear of ennui. f This principle, propensity, or whatever it may be called, extends even to the brute creation . % It is not a disease in itself, but it leads to dis- ease, and even to death. It is a kind of nostalgia. The Swiss longs to return to his mountains — the merchant to his counting-house — the lawyer to his briefs — the physician to his patients — the shop-keeper to his counter — the banker to his balance-sheet — the broker to the ex- * Reflection, too, for which the active man, in full employment, has little leisure, becomes, in retirement, a source of misery. The mind dwells on the sombre scenes of declining life, and has not the means of escaping from its own melancholy antici- pations amid the bustle of human intercourse ! t This portrait has been applied to an eminent medical personage. It was not drawn from any individual in the medical profession, though probably it may apply to several. — 2d Ed. X The dog, the cat, every domesticated animal, pines on being removed from it* accustomed locality and acquaintances. So does the wild animal on being intro- duced to civilization and refinement. The tiger and the vulture would infinitely prefer the putrid carcase of a buffaloe, amid the jungles of the Sunderbunds, to * choice leg of mutton in the Zoological Gardens. 210 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. change — the pensioner to place — the minister to the cabinet — and per- haps, the cidevant monarch to the abdicated crown. In line, almost every human being who retires from his avocation or pursuit, in the ninth Septenniad, may calculate on experiencing more or less of the nostalgic yearning, which will diminish his anticipated happiness, and probably curtail the duration of life. These observations, founded on some knowledge of mankind, may not be unworthy of consideration by a large class of society in this country. The amount of misery produced by a false estimate of the “ otium cum digniiate,” is very great indeed. Man is fond of variety ; but Nature abhors sudden change. In the transition from a life of labour to an age of ease, business and retirement ought to be dove- tailed, and the line of demarcation between the two should never be abrupt. In many cases, it is less safe to leave business than to allow business to leave us. The latter is mortifying ; but the mortification is salutary, because it corrects a greater evil than it creates. As it is in the ninth Septenniad that we perceive the most unequi- vocal mementos of declining life, so it is in that period that we begin seriously to review the past, and meditate on the future. The retros- pective and prospective views are anything but cheering. Often before this epoch, we hear and repeat the exclamation of Solomon — “ all is vanity and vexation” — but it is now that we reflect on it, and acknow- ledge its truth ! When we look back as far as memory can stretch, we are forced to admit that our toils have been inadequately rewarded in general, and were often fruitless — that our hopes have seldom been realized, and were always alloyed by our fears and disappointments — in fine, that, if our pains and our pleasures, our privations and enjoy- ments were put into the scales, the balance would be against the latter ! And if this be the case when we have youth, and strength and spirits on our side, what have we to expect, when the energies of the consti- tution are fast ebbing — when infirmities are taking their place — when the relish for every enjoyment is gradually fading away — in short, w T hen all (or nearly all) the blandishments of life are gone ! Were it not for strong moral motives, and still stronger instinctive impulses, aided by religious feelings, man, at this stage of the journey, w r ould be apt to sink into apathy, if not despair. But he cannot pause in his progress to the final goal ; on the contrary, he appears to proceed with an in- creased impetus. Hope, too, never entirely deserts the human breast RETROSPECTIVE AND PROSPECTIVE VIEWS. 211 — and always sheds a gleam of sunshine over the darkest scenes of ad- versity. Yet even this “ angel of life” would not enable the most Stoic philosopher to view the last sad stage of human existence, with much serenity of mind. No ! Religion only — the Christian hope of immortality in another world, can alone fortify man against the ills of this. It is through the influence of Religion that man can bear with patience, and even cheerfulness, the infirmities of age, and contemplate, without terror, that awful and mysterious transition to another state of being, through the agonies of death, the corruption of the grave, and the resurrection of the body !* * Determined suicides (reason being perfect) were infinitely more prevalent under the influence of the Heathen Mythology than under the Christian dispensation. In the former case, not one of the warriors who rushed upon their swords, or the philosophers who swallowed hemlock, believed in the popular religion — if religion it could be called. In the latter case, the very few who destroy themselves are either sceptics or maniacs. Mr. Whitbread, Sir S. Romilly, Lord Castlereagh, among others, laboured under congestion or some vascular affections of the head, when they committed suicide. Not so, perhaps, Cato, Pompey, and Cleopatra. Since the French revolution, when death was determined by the National Assembly to be “everlasting sleep,” our Gallic neighbours have often imitated the heathen philoso- phers, and wooed the grave as a refuge from real or imaginary woes ! Although the population of Paris is little more than half that of London, the number of annual suicides there is more than double the number that occur on the banks of the Thames. The deduction is obvious. 212 ECONOMY OF HEALTH, TENTH SEPTENNIAD, [63 to 70.] This is apparently the sixth age of Shakespeare. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side - r His youthful hose well sav’d, a world too wide For his shrunk shank — and his big manly voice Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Now if the Bard of Avon had taken Solomon’s calculation for his text, viz. the “ three score years and ten — this ought to have been his seventh age, or “ last scene of all.” But it is impossible to reconcile Shakespeare with Solomon — nor is the poet’s description very easily reconciled with any computation of the life of man, whether by sep- tenniads or decenniads. It is very certain that Shakespeare’s sixth age does not accurately correspond with the last seven years of life accord- ing to Solomon’s calculation. The above description would be quite strong enough for the seven years that succeed the “ three score and ten.” The very survival of the “ Grand Climacteric” without any spe- cific or mortal malady having presented itself at that epoch, argues an originally sound constitution ; and whatever the actuaries may say, I believe that the Tenth, or last Septenniad of the Solomonian computa- tion is more secure from casualties than the First, or infantile Septen- niad. At birth, we are exposed to a host of known and unknown diseases which snap the tender thread of life at a fearful rate. From sixty-three to seventy, we are exposed to rather less than the ordinary wear and tear of life, together with those natural organic changes which ultimately stop the wheels of the machine, no doubt, but which are productive of little additional embarrassment during the last of the ten Septenniads. According to our experience at present, the sixth age of Shakespeare would apply to the Eleventh rather than to the Tenth Septenniad — and his seventh age is now only seen in extreme senectitude — say at 80 years and upwards. No such thing as “ second childishness and mere PORTRAIT OF OLD AG£ MARLBRO’ AND SWIFT. 213 oblivion” occurs at 70, or even 75, unless from disease or idiotism. Some solution of this may be found in the fact that, even since the days of Shakespeare, the value of life (to use the language of the insurance offices) has increased at least seven years : — that is to say, the probable duration of life is seven years longer now than it was two centuries ago, in this country. The calculations may have been erroneous, in days of yore, for want of accurate data ; but still, there is every probability that longevity is increased within the last two centuries. In respect to Solomon’s computation, it is perfectly well known that, in hot climates, and especially in the eastern w r orld, the average duration of human existence is at least seven years below the average of northern regions. This, indeed, is not admitted by the learned Dr. Prichard, in his erudite physical history of mankind ; but the doctor had a theory to support by the doctrine of equality of life all over the world, and probably leaned a little too far to those facts that favoured his own hypo- thesis. The changes which occur in the Tenth Septenniad, are perhaps less remarkable than in either of the two preceding epochs, whether we re- gard the observations of the spectator or the feelings of the individual. The functions, however, continue to diminish progressively in activity — the bones become more dry and brittle — the cartilages more bony — the muscles more rigid — the various circulating fluids more slow in their current — their channels less elastic — the valves of the heart more or less indurated — the great arteries partially ossified — the circulation of the blood feeble and irregular, or too strong for the vessels, according as the heart is in a state of atrophy or morbid enlargement — the joints get stiff and sometimes contracted — the head droops forward, from absorption of the intervertebral substance — the skin becomes more and more wrinkled, from the general shrinking of the whole body — the eyes sink deeper in their sockets, and become flatter, requiring glasses of augmenting powers — the humours of the eye are less limpid, and the lustre is gone — what remains of the hair is now white, or even silvery — the tears flow from the slightest mental emotion or external irritation* — the appetite loses all its * It is generally later than the Tenth Septenniad, but not very unfrequentiy even in it, that we see the melancholy, clever, but unfeeling and sarcastic portrait of Blenheim’s hero, and Ireland’s pride, as drawn by S. Johnson. “ From Mari.bro’s eyes the streams of dotage flow, And Swift expires a driveller and a shew.” 214 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. keenness, and the power of digestion is greatly impaired, because little is now necessary to recruit the trifling daily waste of the corporeal fabric — the secretions and excretions are (with certain exceptions) diminished to one-half their former amount, in consequence of the inac- tivity of the organs, and the slender inlay of nutriment — the relish for all enjoyments, intellectual and bodily, fades slowly away, and is forgotten, or remembered with a sigh — the sockets of the teeth being absorbed, the teeth themselves drop out, and that singular feature of senility, the approximation of the nose and chin, becomes painfully con- spicuous to the byestander !* * The sensibility of the whole nervous system (including the five special senses), grows more and more blunt, and impressions are less and less distinct — the brain itself grows smaller, often of softer consistence — and the skull experiences changes in its external form — the limbs lose all their agility, and muscular motion is slow and often painful — the ancles swell — drowsiness is common, espe- cially after food ; but sleep in the night is short and imperfect, arising, no doubt, in a great degree, from the inability to take sufficient exercise. f It was not fair, in Johnson, to class these two illustrious individuals together. Marlbro’s infirmity was the natural effect of age — Swift’s was that of disease— of idiotcy. Cowper’s end was still more deplorable, because his monomaniacal illusion was religious despair, than which there is not a more horrible infliction on humanity ! The materialist’s horror of annihilation is bad enough, but Cowper’s conviction that soul and body would be broiled to all eternity in sulphureous flames, was a hell upon earth — happily annihilated by the kind hand of death ! It was a great pity that Cowper’s spiritual advisers had not a foretaste of this insane incineration by a plunge into a bath at 150° of Fahrenheit ! Most richly did they deserve it. * The premature decay of the teeth in our own times, as compared with even fifty years ago, must have arrested the attention of most observers. For many years I have been endeavouring to form some calculation of the difference, and to account for its causes. 1 cannot say that I have been successful in either case. Suppose out of a large assembly of people we were to select the first hundred that had attained the age of 50 years — and then a hundred who had attained the age of 30 years. I think we would find as many teeth in the heads of the seniors as in the heads of the juniors. This ought not to be. There must be some cause or causes. The change of habits and manners — the increase of sedentary and manufacturing employments, may have done something. The indiscriminate use or abuse of calomel, especially among children, since the beginning of the present century, may have proved no unimportant cause of what a clever American dentist of this metropolis calls “ devastation of the gums.” The people of the United States are remarkably prone to early loss of teeth. It is well known that they swallow enormous doses of calomel on all occasions. f It may be laid down as a pretty certain rule that, in each Septenniad of human life, the length of time absorbed in sleep gradually diminishes. In early infancy PORTRAIT OF OLD AGE. 215 The mucous membranes of the eyes and air-passages become relaxed and turgid, effusing tears from the former, and phlegm from the latter ; hence the watery eye, dripping nose, and wheezing respiration. The septuagenarian, or rather the octogenarian, then, to use the poet’s phrase — “ Pipes and whistles in his sound.” These are among the chief physical phenomena which become con- spicuous at the close of the Tenth Septenniad, and augment in intensity, during the remaining span of existence — an indefinite period, beyond the reach of human calculation. Sombre as is the portrait here drawn of the decline of life, it is a favourable one, because it presupposes an origi- nally sound constitution, and the non-abuse of it by vice or intemperance. But, unfortunately, very few can expect to glide down into the vale of years in this natural, and comparatively easy manner. Nine in ten of those who touch or pass the 70th year, bring with them some thorn to aggravate the inevitable evils of life’s last stage ! It is now, when too late, that the septuagenarian bewails the excesses of youth, and the useless anxieties as well as inordinate labours or culpable indolence of middle age ! These, he finds, have entailed on him a long catalogue of maladies, in addition to his natural infirmities ! On the other hand, the individual who has led a life of temperance, morality, and activity, is now rewarded by a green old age, in which the decay of the powers is so slow as to be almost imperceptible, and the penalties of Nature so more than three fourths of our hours are passed in profound repose — scarcely dis- turbed by a dream. In manhood, about one third — in old age scarcely a fourth of the 24 hours is consigned to balmy sleep. There is a vulgar and erroneous notion that old people sleep almost as much as infants. They doze away a good deal of that time which is dedicated to exercise or amusement among the young and middle- aged — but it is not sleep, and, in the night they pass many dreary hours in watchful- ness or unrefreshing slumbers ! This is one of the greatest taxes on old age, and severely is it felt ! “ Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, Balm of hurt minds, great Nature’s second course, Chief nourisher in life’s feast,” is often invoked, but seldom kindly descends upon the aged eyes ! The bad habits of late hours and midnight studies or dissipation, so often indulged in the early and middle periods of life, tend greatly to sleeplessness in our declining years. Those who have long repulsed the drowsy God from their doors, when he paid his voluntary visits, will find it difficult to entice him back when they are anxious for his favours. — 2d Ed. 216 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. mild as scarcely to call forth a murmur ! The final decline of life, in- deed, is a kind of protracted “ climacteric disease,” in which all the organs appear to wear down with such evenness, that hardly any specific complaint is made or felt by the individual. The whole machine volun- tarily ceases to move, rather than experiences any violence in the stoppage of the wheels. If we turn from the physique to the morale, we shall find a corres • ponding decadence as we verge towards the end of life’s long journey. As the tenth Septenniad advances, the stormy passions of youth and manhood subside into a state of tranquillity, calm as the unruffled surface of the lake. Love has long taken his departure, leaving affection as his frigid, but friendly substitute. Ambition, if a shadow of it remain, has now little else to do than ruminate on the giddy and dangerous heights which it has climbed — perhaps the rugged precipices over which it has been hurled ! The pillar of ambition may be as broad at the base as a hemisphere of this globe, and constructed of materials as firm as the molten arms of conquered nations ; but the proud figure on the summit is in more peril than “ The ship-boy on the high and giddy mast,” when the tall fabric bends and cracks over the boiling surge in the mid- night tempest. The ample page of history is fraught with illustrations ; but these are all cast in the shade by the stupendous dispensation of our own times — the sun of Austerlitz, Friedland, and Marengo, hurled from his high meridian throne, and plunged into the dark Atlantic wave — never to rise again ! Avarice — sordid, selfish avarice, still grasps, with clenched and flesh- less fingers, the bag that holds the darling pelf — a grasp so firm as scarcely to relax under the agonies of death !* But the possession of * In excavating Pompeii, a skeleton was found with the fingers clenched round a quantity of money ! A very remarkable example presented itself to the Author while this sheet was passing through the press. An octogenarian, worth more than a hundred thousand pounds — sinking under a complication of fatal organic diseases, sent for the Author, and, after dwelling for a few minutes on his corporeal afflictions, broke out in a strain of lamentation on the loss of two thousand pounds by a recent fire on his extensive premises ! He remarked that it was of little use to prescribe for the disease of the body, unless I could cure its cause — the anguish of his mind! I quoted to him the reply of the Physician to Macbeth; but that afforded him no consolation. I then repeated the celebrated passage from Shakespeare, CONSOLATIONS OF OLD AGE. 21 / wealth (the only enjoyment which the miser experiences) begins to lose its relish in the vale of years, and the very sight of his gold reminds the wretch of the approaching separation from all that he holds dear. The last of the master-passions floats like a wreck on the ocean of de- clining life, till it becomes a scarcely visible speck, and ultimately disappears ! Thus then, with appetites diminished, desires decayed, passions sub- dued, and infirmities accumulating, what has man to attract him to this world, or to regret at leaving it ? Little ! — But that little is, to him, a great deal. It is in poverty that we prize riches — in sickness, health. And so it is chiefly when we approach the final goal of existence that we fully appreciate the just value of life ! “ Though dull the close of life, and far away, Each flower that hail’d the dawning of the day ; Yet o’er her lovely hopes, that once were dear. The time- taught spirit, pensive not severe, With milder griefs her aged eye shall fill. And weep their falsehood, though she love them still !” It may be fairly doubted, indeed, whether the balance of happiness is much against the septuagenarian, and in favour of earlier Septenniads. In this late stage of the journey, our wants, and even our wishes are few, and easily satisfied. If early life has been spent in honest industry and temperance, our declining years will be little annoyed by the natural penalties of age. We then hear the tempests of ambition and the other turbulent passions rolling over our heads, and hurling their victims into the abysses of misery or crime, while we are sheltered from the storm in the lowly vale. What says the poet Campbell ? “ Hail welcome tide of life, when no tumultuous billows roll. How wond’rous to myself appears this halcyon calm of soul ! The wearied bird blown o’er the deep would sooner quit its shore, Than I would cross the gulf again that time has brought me o’er.” “ Who steals my purse, steals trash — ’tis something — nothing — ’Twas mine — ’tis his, and may be slave to thousands ; — But he who filches from me my good name, Robs me of that which not enriches him, But makes me poor indeed !” I asked him if he had lost his credit, — his reputation, — his honour? — He raised himself with animation on his couch, and, squeezing my hand, exclaimed, “ No ! all that is safe — no stain attaches to my name as a merchant in the City of London.” I left him under this transient impression of pride — but probably it did not bear him long up. P.S. He died soon afterwards, and left an ample fortune to his children, — 2 d Ed. F f 218 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. Pleasures do not constitute felicity, nor pains misery. Many who are capable of enjoying, and do actually possess, the luxuries of this world, are wretched in the midst of plenty ; while others, who are buffeted by misfortunes, deprived of comforts, and harassed with bodily sufferings, are resigned, contented, and comparatively happy ! The cause of this difference is not inexplicable. A well-spent life in this world, and a well-founded hope of immortality in the next, may readily account for the one — a long series of breaches against the laws of Nature and of Nature’s God, with little or no hope of “ another and a better word” — perhaps the apprehension of a worse, inevitably eventuates in the other. Virtue is its own reward, at all periods of life, but it is religion alone, that can sustain frail humanity, with any degree of fortitude, under the pressure of adversity, the infirmities of age, and the prospect of death. Descending, however, from this spiritual source of consolation to material conditions of human nature, there are many curious subjects which appear to have escaped the attention even of Cicero, while portraying the comforts of old age. Some of these may be less digni- fied or philosophic than those enumerated by Tully, but not less natural or efficient. We know that, in youth, much of our time is spent, and much of our pleasure consists in anticipations of the future — in building castles in the air. In age, the scene is reversed. Unable to embark in new pursuits, or continue the old, many of our hours are daily passed in retrospection — in re-enacting by- gone transactions — conjuring up long forgotten events — and rehearsing the chequered drama of existence, even from our boyish days ! Memory, shattered as it is, now stands our friend, and supplies the place of imagination. In his half-dreaming reveries, the septuagenarian winds through all the tortuous and devious paths of youth and manhood, extracting plea- sure not only from the smiles, but also from the frowns of Fortune, experienced in the diversified journey of seventy years. Misfortunes are now remembered only as difficulties overcome, dangers survived, and sorrows deprived by time of their stings. Along the retrospective vista, joys are painted in mellowed tints, unalloyed by those pains and penalties from which they are seldom free in their actual occurrence during the busy turmoil of life. These reminiscences afford more solace to the old man in his arm-chair, half dozing over his cheering CONSOLATION OF COMPLAINING. 210 glass of port or sherry, between dinner and tea, than many young people can imagine ; and they are not attended by the broils, nor succeeded by the headaches, which too often detract from the plea- sures of Bacchanalian festivities in the fourth and fifth Septenniads. There are other peculiarities of the aged, which may admit of question as to their tendency towards happiness or misery. He who has passed his tenth Septenniad, is apt to regard with disdain — sometimes ap- proaching to disgust — the ever-changing manners, habits, fashions, customs, and even creeds, going on in the world around him. He has long embraced the venerable maxim — “ Stare super vias antiquas,” and considers every deviation from the instructions of his forefathers, as a degeneration from the “ good old ways” of the world. In these his reflections on modern frivolities, errors, and evils, there is no small share of pride and pleasure, mixed up with the acerbity and wailings of querulous criticisms. Upon the whole, I am inclined to place these among the solaces rather than among the miseries of age. But however this may be, they are often extremely amusing to the listener. I attended a gentleman for many years before he was sum- moned, at the mature age of 84, to his final home. When I first became acquainted with him, the steam-engine was the daily subject of his anathemas. This vile automaton he would not admit to be the in- vention of Fulton or Watt, but that of the “ Evil One” himself. It was, in no long time, to ruin half the artizans of England, turning their families into paupers, and themselves into robbers and thieves. But this was not all. The iron and tin mines of Cornwall and Wales would be utterly exhausted by the manufacture of hardware, for Europe and America, so that we should not have a nail to drive into a door or a ship’s bottom ! Gas fortunately changed the theme. Nobody could doubt that this was the invention of Lucifer. It vitiated the air we breathe — it poisoned the waters, so that the fish of the Thames could not live among the drainings of the gas-works. The coal-mines of the North would soon be exhausted, and the whale fisheries would be at an end, as oil would soon be useless. The day of retribution, however, was not far distant, for the metropolis and all the great cities of England would one day be blown into the air, by a general explosion of this infernal machine ! 220 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. Gas, in its turn, gave way before a still greater evil — steam naviga- tion. The days of England’s naval supremacy were numbered ! “ The flag that braved a thousand years, The battle and the breeze,” would soon be struck for ever! The hardy race of tars who could “ hand reef and steer,” in the heaviest gale of wind, would soon degenerate into a band of squalid half-broiled wretches, doomed, from morning till night, and from night till morning, to heave up coals under a cauldron, or grease the clanking machinery of a steam-engine. Oh, it was melancholy to behold a fine vessel squatted on the water like a duck, with fins for sails, and a huge chimney for a mast, belching forth smoke like a glass-house, and consuming more fuel in a day than would warm the hearths of half a parish for a week ! Such a system would, in the next war, strike Great Britain out of the map of independent kingdoms. Had Napoleon been supplied with steamers to tow his flotilla across the Channel in a calm, England would now have been a province of France, and the Czar of Muscovy a sous-prefect of Peters- burgh ! Strange to say, this anticipated subjugation of his country by foreign bayonets, was, all at once, absorbed and forgotten in an event of a very different character — Catholic Emancipation. Although there had been premonitory lightnings for some years in the West, this stupendous disaster came on the old gentlemen like a peal of thunder, for which he was quite unprepared. In the sudden conversion of Peel to Popery, he saw clearly portrayed the advent of the Scarlet Lady of Babylon, the subversion of the Protestant Church, and the dominion of Anti- christ ! Already the approaching tortures of the Inquisition had nearly suspended the racking pains of gout, when the wheel of fortune once more revolved, and the gift of prophecy was required in a new quarter of the compass. The Emancipation of Irish Catholics was bad enough, but " Reform of Parliament” was a dispensation that could not but speedily bring down a signal and awful punishment on a guilty nation ! The political frame of society would now be rent asunder, and the great pyramid of ranks, orders, and gradations would be inverted, and set on its apex, with its broad and unwieldy base uppermost ! Such a fabric could not stand a single year, without breaking down and involving all classes consolation of complaining. 221 in one common ruin ! One, two, three years elapsed, and, to the astonishment of the prophet, the pyramid stood firm on its apex ! One day, when I entered his apartment, I saw Eureka in his countenance. He had evidently solved some great problem, and was bursting with the discovery. “ Doctor, said he, you have often asked me if the pyramid were still standing on its apex ? I can tell you now why it yet stands. Did you ever, when a boy, amuse yourself by spinning a Tor ?” I an- swered in the affirmative. “ How did you make the top stand on its pivot, with its broad and heavy end uppermost ?” By whipping it cer- tainly, I replied. “ That’s the very point,” cried he. “ The political top is kept on its apex, at present, by perpetual revolution, whipped round and round with a scourge of scorpions by that fiend O'Connell ! But the quicker and the longer it revolves, the greater will be the crash when it comes down.” This amiable and venerable prophet did not live to see any of his predictions fulfilled — and most of them were forgotten even by himself. But he derived more solid advantages from his prophecies than if they had all been verified to the letter. In his philanthropic wailings over the evils that were to befall his posterity, he forgot a great proportion of his own personal infirmities and sufferings. Days, months, and years of bodily pain in himself were thus beguiled by ruminations on the imaginary ills of others ! Nor is this a rare or solitary instance of the mu sings of the mind when the body is bowed down by age. The species of solace illustrated by this example is diffused through every ramification of mankind, varied in kind, mode, and degree, by individual temperament, education, and habits of life. Perhaps the humane reader may not be disinclined to learn the finale of the worthy personage alluded to in this instance. A slight attack of apoplexy impaired his faculties, and put an end to his anxieties for the fate of succeeding generations. He passed another year or more in a kind of quiet vegetative existence, with little bodily pain and no tribulation of mind. A second seizure of coma rather than of apoplexy rounded a long life w T ith a short and transient slumber that ended in eternal sleep. But notwithstanding these and many other sources of solace under the pressure of years — and although indulgent Nature endeavours to provide for the comfort and happiness of her offspring in all periods of 222 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. existence, when her laws are not outraged ; yet it is but too true that, in civilized society, declining life brings w r ith it a long black catalogue of calamities and sufferings which were never designed by our Creator, and which are the penalties we pay for civilization, refinement, luxuries, and excesses, in youth and manhood. The wild animal decays and dies with little or no pain or suffering. Compare this with the horse, domesticated and civilized with man ! He is afflicted with nearly as many maladies as is his master ! So of the unsophisticated Indian and the polished European. Were there no considerations of present in- convenience, but only the knowledge of what is to be the lot of old age, the exhortation to temperance and exercise in early and middle life, deserves the deepest reflection. After the ninth or tenth Septenniad, neither prevention nor cure of corporeal afflictions need be expected. We are then doomed to suffer for early indiscretions, without hope of mitigation ! How many thousands would then give kingdoms for a few years of immunity from pains and penalties which they laid the founda- tions of, when it was in their power to prevent them ! It is not a little curious that, amongst the most wild and uncultivated nations on the earth, age is venerated and honoured, even on its own account ; whereas in states of the highest cultivation and refinement, we frequently see the diseases of body and mind treated with contempt — too often with ridicule ! This is passing strange, knowing as we do, that the life of man is so short, that the young may be said to be actually treading in the very steps of the aged — hurried on by irresisti- ble fate to the same melancholy goal — and plunging, like their parents, into the same gulph of oblivion at last. If some cruel tyrant pre- cipitated daily into a dark and dismal dungeon a certain number of his subjects, there to linger and die without food or drink, what would be thought of those last thrown in, if they made themselves merry with the agonies and death of those w T ho had preceded them by a few days ! Yet such conduct w r ouid not be less rational or humane than that which sports with the infirmities of the aged, and points the finger of ridicule at the second childhood to which they themselves are fast advancing ! It is strange that we should dread or despise that wdiich we all wish to attain — length of years. “ Age, says a late writer, ought to be venerated and respected, especially when w T e consider it free from the dominion of impetuous passions, and endowed with a greater share of experience than appcr- CONSOLATIONS OF OLl) AGE. 223 tains to other periods of life. Nay, we may advance another step, in depreciating the calumny too generally directed against the condition of the period, by observing that, when old age is devoid of unpleasant reflections from the conduct of a past life, and of diseases from the imprudence of former years, men in easy circumstances find it an ex- tremely comfortable state.”* There is much truth in these observations, though the picture here drawn of old age may be somewhat too flattering. It tends, however, to shew, what I have elsewhere urged, that all the advantages of life are not concentrated in its earlier periods — but scattered, however sparsely, over the ulterior epochs of man’s existence here below. When we mean to express our most fervent desire for the welfare of an individual, we wish him — “ long life.” The Eastern Nations have carried this to a hyperbolical excess. “May you live a thousand years,” is an ordinary salutation — and the sacred text is well known — “ honour thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the land.” All these shew that protracted existence has, in every age, in every clime, been considered the greatest boon which could be conferred by Heaven on a mortal being. I am far from agreeing in the propriety of this “ universal prayer .” Health and contentment are infinitely preferable to length of years, which must be attended with infirmities — too often with sufferings. Yet a contemplation of tottering age and octogenarian imbecility ought to supply any thing rather than food for gratulation, much less mirth or satire to the young and vigorous. They are pro- phetic mirrors which reflect the future form, with as much fidelity as the polished glass reflects the living features — but with this important addition, that they portray the moral as well as the physical condition towards which we are verging ! * Dr. Jameson on the Changes of the Body, &c. 224 ECONOMY OF HEALTH. ULTEA-LIMITES. [70 to 0.] last scene of all That ends this strange eventful history ! The Almighty, for wise purposes, has implanted in every human breast, an instinctive love of life and horror of the grave. But had the limits of man's sojourn on earth been accurately defined — had the “ three score years and ten,” been the maximum of his days, the instinct in question would have been a fatal gift, and utterly destructive of even a moment’s happiness here below. The Omniscient Creator will’d it otherwise. For him who is advanced, however far, on Time’s list — even for the septuagenarian, so ample a margin is left, and so completely in- volved in obscurity is the further boundary of that margin, that no one can calculate his own destiny, — no one can foresee the day or the year that is to be his last. On the contrary, every one indulges the hope that he is not next on the list of departures from the social scene. Et mihi forsan tibi quod negarit, Porriget hora. The grisley monarch, in ninety-nine cases out of every hundred, ap- proaches at last in disguise, and, waving his Lethean Sceptre, seals in un waking sleep the eyes of his victim, now as unconscious of the struggle that separates soul from body, as he was of the maternal throe that first ushered him into this world of cares.* * We have heard a great deal of those brilliant scintillations of intellect that some- times cast a dazzling lustre round the dying bed. Eloquent orations on this topic have been addressed to audiences more disposed to swallow the marvellous than investigate the probable ! The whole is, in my opinion, an innocent romance, calculated to gratify the feelings — perhaps flatter the pride — of the living, by throwing a halo round the couch of the dead. Every one knows how prone are the friends and spectators of the dying man, to mark each expression — treasure it up in the mind — and embellish it in the rehearsal. But the experienced physician and the calm philosophic observer reduce these ex- aggerations within the narrow and sober boundary of truth. Few have had the melancholy task of witnessing more death-bed scenes than myself, whether amid the storms and havoc of war, or in the quiet walks of peace. But no such corruscations of the mind have I ever beheld, when .the immortal spark was deserting its un- “last scene of all/’ 225 Although instinctively, and, of course, involuntarily clinging to life, and desiring its procrastination from year to year, yet the octogenarian experiences a series of events that tend to gradually wean him from his attachment to this world — or, at all events, to enable him to contemplate his approaching end with more serenity of mind, than at earlier periods. These preparations are moral, physical, and religious. In the first place, the octogenarian finds that he has outlived all, or almost all his juvenile acquaintances and relations. Father and mother are scarcely remembered in form or feature — brothers and sisters are gone — few even of his own progeny remain on earth, and they are dispersed, and growing old amongst their own families. Those who were bom and still survive, when the octogenarian was in the prime of life, have now a numerous offspring, and are themselves beginning to decline into the vale of years ! With these he cannot now form new acquaintance, their habits and sentiments being all different from his own, which have remained stationary for twenty years or more. Thus the old man feels himself like a withered, gnarl’d oak in the midst of a forest of tall and flourishing trees, having little in common with the world around him, except the air he breathes and mother earth under his foot ! Unable to mix with society, or to enjoy it if able, he seeks converse with the dead. But those authors who afforded him delight in youth, are insipid in age. Works of ima- gination have lost their charm, because imagination itself is decayed. Arts and sciences have faded on the memory ; and fiction excites little interest when fancy is fled. inhabitable tenement. The phenomenon is contrary 'to Nature and experience — and miracles I leave to those who prefer them to experimental truths. The alleged fact, though grossly exaggerated, has some foundation. In a very considerable number of instances, the dying man and woman retain possession of their mental faculties till within a very short period of dissolution. And this depends on the nature and seat of the disease. Many maladies destroy life without materially disturbing the organ of the mind — the brain — till the last hours of existence. Pulmonary consumption is one of these, and the list is rather extensive. In such cases, we frequently observe a serenity of mind-^-a tranquillity — a placid resignation to the will of the Almighty, and even a cheerfulness in contemplating the approaching change. But as to any preternatural blazing-up of the expiring taper, at such moments, it is either sheer imagination in the bye-standers, or a poetical creation of after -thought. No rational or physiological explanation of the phenomenon has been attempted by the historians of these death-bed illuminations. No ! They have left them to the easy and convenient solution of supernatural agency. The ex- planation which I have given is founded on physical facts — and with the miraculous I have no concern. Gg 226 ECONOMY OF HEALTH, There is one, and only one book, (need I name it !) which retains its attractions to the last, and even rises in estimation as life sinks in value. Frigid philosophy offers little consolation when the curtain begins to fall. True, it shakes the fear of future punishment, and the hope of future reward ; but it substitutes for these the horror of annihilation, more terrible to the human mind than the direst chimeras of the wildest superstition ! The musing melancholy sceptic meditating on the dreary grave, where the body is to moulder into dust, and the mind vanish into nothing, envies while he despises the savage of the wilderness — even the untutor’d Indian to whom ————————— — is given Beyond the cloud- capt hill an humble Heaven ; And where, admitted to an equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company. Gladly would he barter Golconda’s mines (were they his) for any creed, however credulous, of any people, however barbarous ! But faith is a jewel that cannot be purchased ! Although a belief may force itself upon us, we cannot force ourselves upon a belief. It is the child of con- viction, and disdains adoption from choice. Happy, thrice happy, the man who, in early life, has imbibed the cheering doctrines of Christianity, and, in the maturity of years, has practised its holy precepts. He, and he only, ean bear the infirmities of age with fortitude, and the prospect of dissolution with composure— -confident in the hope that, the agonies of death are but the pains of a new birth, and, that the grave itself will prove the cradle of immortality. Unfading Hope, when life’s last embers burn, When soul to soul, and dust to dust return ! Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour ! Oh ! then thy kingdom comes ! immortal power ! What though each spark of earth-born rapture fly The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye ! Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey The morning dream of life’s eternal day — Then, then, the triumph and the trance begin. And all the Phoenix spirit burns within ! THE END. ( 227 ) APPENDIX* MR, COULSON ON TIGHT-RACING. Since the first edition was in press, Mr. Coulson, a very intelligent sur- geon, has published a little work on deformities of the chest, which has already reached a second edition, in which there is a chapter dedicated to the subject of tight-lacing, containing many highly-important observa- tions. Mr. Coulson has introduced some plates, from the celebrated Professor Soemmering, on the effects of tight-lacing, which deserve the attention of mothers and daughters, and, among other pertinent remarks, will be found the following. “ The use of the stays, when they have the least effect on the chest, produces compression of the soft parts below, and throws up the viscera of the abdomen towards the chest. " Not only will the moveable false ribs be pushed upwards, and close together, and the space between them diminished, but they will be so pressed, that those of the right side will be brought nearer to the left, not only at their anterior extremities (the last, perhaps, excepted on account of its shortness), but also at their extremities towards the spine. In consequence, the inclination of the false ribs generally must increase, and their cartilages be more bent; for the cartilaginous parts yield most readily, and the bony parts, on account of their elasticity, yield also a little. " If the compression be carried further, the lower true ribs will be carried upwards towards one another ; the right will be carried towards the left, the sternum will ascend, and when the pressure is increased, the sternal extremities of the lower true ribs will necessarily be brought nearer to the spine, and the diameter of the chest, from before to behind, be diminished. * See page 51 of this edition. 228 APPEND IX TI G H T-LA CING, “ Whilst this is going 1 on with the ribs, the bodies of the vertebne are somewhat raised, their spinous processes gradually become more oblique, and pressed on one another, and at last the spine becomes bent. " Superiorly, the thorax naturally becomes smaller. The fifth and sixth ribs do not further suffer from the immediate pressure of the stays, but commonly form more or less of a circle round the chest. In the remaining upper ribs, the contrary, to a certain degree, is the case : the ribs are pressed from one another by the internal viscera ; their interspaces are greater ; the right is somewhat separated from the left ; and their sternal stand off from their spinal extremities. " To the act of breathing, the first, second, third, and at the utmost the fourth ribs, contribute : it even appears as if they were more moveable. “ To this space are the breasts, with the surrounding parts, pushed upwards, and such persons appear to have larger breasts, but some part of these organs usually suffers from the pressure. “ The shoulder-blades are sometimes brought closer to one another behind; and their under part is pressed towards the spine; the back loses its fine rounding, and the arm is impeded in its free motion. Hence, when a tight-laced person, while sitting, reaches over, she must move the whole upper part of the body on the hips,” If all these changes take place externally, what must the internal organs suffer? The lower portions of lung are compressed — the circu- lation is impeded — the diaphragm is pushed up forcibly, and embarrassed in all its motions. The viscera of the abdomen suffer. The stomaoh is compressed, and bad digestion follow^. The duodenum is pushed up- wards unnaturally, and the function of the liver is impeded. The rectum, uterus, and bladder are forced lower down than is natural. From two measurements, Soemmering found that, “ in a fine girl, the circumfer- ence of the head was twenty-two Paris inches ; while the circumference of the waist, with the stays on, was 21 inches and a mere fraction.” In another girl, the circumference of the head was 18 inches, and that of the laced body was 15 inches! In this last, the circumference of the chest, at the arm-pits, was 39 inches. The body was, in this young lady, three inches less in circumference than the head ! Soemmering has collected from various authors, and with true German industry, a catalogue of the diseases or disorders produced by the tight- lacing* — and they amount to the frightful number of — ninety-six! Many APPENDIX TIGHT-LACING. 229 of them, too, are amongst the most formidable and fatal maladies to which flesh is heir ! I need only glance at a very few of these, viz. carotidean aneurism, cancer, asthma, haemoptysis, pulmonary abscess, consumption, hydrothorax, scirrhus of the pylorus, dysentery, jaundice, cancer of the womb, &c. &c. Amongst numerous evils enumerated by the Germans, as attributable to tight-lacing, are " ugly children.” It is also to be borne in mind, that habit renders the tight stays necessary ; for ladies, after 15 or 20 years, are so dependent on them, that they cannot keep themselves erect without them. The injurious effects of tight-lacing are hardly exaggerated by Soem- mering or Mr. Coulson; for the abdomen and thorax are so much com- pressed by the stays, that the ribs cannot rise nor the diaphragm descend at each inspiration. Neither digestion nor assimilation can, therefore, be properly carried on, and many of the corporeal functions must neces - sarily languish. I strongly recommend Mr. Coulson’s little work to mothers and maids, as well as to the public generally, and particularly solicit their attention to the plates of Soemmering in his volume. They will convey a much better idea of the effects of tight-lacing than any verbal descrip- tion could do. ( 230 ) LATELY PUBLISHED, BY THE SAME AUTHOR, Fourth Edition, price 85. 6 d. bds. It Change of Air, or the Pursuit of Health and Recreation; illustrating the Beneficial Influence of Bodily Exercise, Change of Scene, Pure Air, and Temporary Relaxation, as Antidotes to the Wear and Tear of Education and Avocation. CRITICISMS. “ Every page of Dr. Johnson’s volume reminds us of the 4 Sentimental Journey.’ Like its prototype, this work is so spirited, so sentimental, so full of sound moral reflection — so correct and so impartial, that we scarcely know where to look for its equal. It is a classical and philosophical tour, in which the characteristic features of every country are sketched with fidelity and effect. In addition to extensive read- ing and research, the author has travelled over many territories collecting his mate- rials. The work is full of entertainment for all who love history, topography, the description of beautiful scenery, traditionary legends and antiquarian accounts of historical monuments. To travellers and invalids it is an amusing, instructive, and invaluable companion. It is impossible to dip into any part of it, without having the attention rivetted and the fancy pleased. Of this production we need only say, that it is worthy of the accomplished author. It is written with elegance, accuracy, and an impartial spirit of philosophy ; and will add to his high literary and profes- sional reputation. Had he written but this volume, he would have ranked among the best topographical writers of the day ; for his description ‘ of men, manners, and countries’ are seldom equalled — hardly ever surpassed. It is one of the most inter- esting publications which modern times have produced.” — London Medical fy Surgical Journal, April, 1831. The Ninth Edition, improved, price 65. 6 d. boards. 2. Dr. Johnson on Indigestion, or Morbid Sensibility of the Stomach, «fcc. criticisms on the above work. “ This brings us to the conclusion of the volume — a volume, we repeat, small in size, but rich in matter, from the perusal of which every reader will derive instruc- tion. The extracts which we have given sufficiently attest the value of this contri- bution to the stock of medical facts. The essay is written throughout in a pleasing unaffected style.” — Med. Phy. Journal for Jan. 1827. “ We will venture to say, that this cheap little volume, which sells for half a dol- lar, contains more sound precept and wholesome practice, than will be found in one half the tumid octavos, which we buy for eight or nine times as much money, and throw by, unread, at last. It is full of clear details of what we believe to be the correct views of Dr. Johnson, concerning the nature and treatment of some of the most obstinate complaints, with which the physician is every day baffled, or the patient afflicted, tormented, and ultimately shuffled out of this mortal coil. We, therefore, most earnestly recommend it to our readers, as a treatise which they will be sure to peruse, if but for the pleasant style in which it is written ; and sure to profit by, both as regards their own comfort, and the well-being of their patients.” — North American Medical and Surgical Journal, April, 1827 ,p. 358. The 5 tli Edition, greatly enlarged, price 18s. boards. 3. The Influence of Tropical Climates on European Constitutions. critical notices of the above work. " In no Work do we remember to have seen the important subject of preserving Health in Tropical Climates, so ably, so clearly, and so philosophically treated. The easy, lucid, and entertaining manner in which it is written, cannot fail to render it equally interesting to the soldier, sailor, merchant, or traveller, as to the medical part of the community.” — New Med. 8f Phys, Journal, Dec. 1813. 4. The Recess, or Autumnal Relaxation in the Highlands and Low* lands; being the Home Circuit versus Foreign Travel, a Tour of Health and Pleasure to the Highlands and Hebrides. (Sequel to “ Change of Air.”) CRITICAL NOTICES OF THIS WORK. “ The author of this book, with a right proper feeling of love for the mother-land, prefers the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland to the romantic scenery breasting the Garonne — in short, to the whole of the Continent. His book is full of this feeling. He treats his subjects with freshness and earnestness, and evidently has his heart in what he is doing. He is so engrosed in the locale, that he succeeds in creating a strong interest in the reader. His book will prove a lively companion on the route it traces.” — Atlas. “ The author, who has evidently a turn for the satirical, seems to have had abund- ant materials afforded him for the gratification of his humour. The districts through which he travelled abound in romantic scenery, and of a character to compensate highly those who travel for amusement or health. A better companion than this book they can hardly find.” — News, Feb. 9th, 1834. “ He gives us, nevertheless, some pleasing descriptions — nay, passages in which manners are cleverly delineated — and has such good will towards the land, that he often speaks the truth about it. This traveller is the kindest of all tourists : he seeks to extract enjoyment out of every thing, and he goes smiling over the land, scatter- ing his jokes and his jibes like a prodigal.” — Athenceum, Is/ March, 1834. Second Edition, ‘price 7s. 6d. boards. 5. The Economy of Health, or the Stream of Human Eife, from the Cradle to the Grave ; with Reflections, Moral, Physical, and Philo- sophical, on the Septennial Phases of Human Existence. CRITICISMS ON THE FIRST EDITION. “ Dr. James Johnson’s books are always distinguished by originality and vigour. His views are frequently new and startling — his manner always sincere, buoyant, and independent. When there exists so much candour and courage in the assertion of practical principles that are occasionally at variance with received theories, we may expect to find a spirit of vigilant enquiry, great facility in grasping and classifying facts, and a large experience of mankind. Dr. Johnson develops these characteristics throughout all his writings. His illustrations are drawn from ordinary and accessi- ble sources. He draws in all the sympathies and remote influences in his analysis of particular states of the human mind or body, and makes the matter of enquiry a medium through which we are led to the contemplation of nature at large. Hence he seems to digress when he is only carrying forward his researches to points which had not hitherto been included within the assigned limits of the subject. When the intimate connexion and mutual dependence of the mind and body are taken into con- sideration, this mode of treating the diseases of either, by constantly keeping in view the causes that affect both, must be admitted to be as judicious as it is philosophical. Indeed, Dr. Johnson writes like an Anthropologist, fortified by the knowledge of the physician. The earnest spirit in which it is written, and the practical knowledge which is brought to bear on its details, render it in the highest degree worthy of public attention.” — Atlas, Nov. 5, 1836. “ Dr. James Johnson is a clear-headed close-thinking man. He dares to genera- lize, and gives utterance to his opinions with a boldness which not seldom has an air of rudeness. His profession owes him a great deal — the public more. We like all Dr. Johnson’s works, this last not least, its subjects being of paramount importance to us all. * * * * We leave this book with regret, it is full of information.” — Satirist , Oct. 30, 1836. ( 232 ) “ The Economy of Health is a very amusing book, containing a variety of sensible remarks and much good advice, interspersed with many quaint digressions — some striking facts picked up in the course of a wide acquaintance with mankind in many countries, &c.” “His account of the character, origin, and causes of the Patho-Proteian Malady, as well as his description of its popular pathology, is a piece of quaint but powerful eloquence, mingled with touches of dry humour.” “ After the quotations given from the work, it may be superfluous to say that originality is its characteristic. Dr. Johnson may have been occasionally indebted to others for his facts or his thoughts, but he has made them his own by digesting them. The Economy of Health is a faithful reflex of the Author’s mind, and not * a thing of shreds and patches.’ ” — Spectator, Nov. 5, 1836. “ The Author of this interesting publication has long been known to the medical world as truly learned in the healing art. His works on popular medicine have long been before the public, and earned him a justly deserved reputation. The volume before us cannot fail to increase it.” — Parthenon, Nov. 17, 1836. “ Dr. Johnson stands alone in the ranks of the faculty for the extent and import- ance of his literary labours. Besides the deeper and inore elaborate works strictly confined to medicine and surgery, he has enriched the literature of the country by various agreeable publications, in which, with a tact peculiarly his own, he has con- trived to blend amusement with instruction, and delight the reader’s mind while teaching him to preserve the body. The * Economy of Health’ is one of the brightest specimens of Dr. Johnson’s tact and talent in this way.” — John Bull, Dec. 4, 1836. “This work, it is true, is not voluminous, but it treats of almost every thing ; and there is hardly a page in it that does not call for attention, either in the shape of praise or comment. It is just one of those books which, to do them justice, would require an article longer than themselves. The work is excursive, ingenious, replete with curious facts and novel generalizations. The medical observations contained in the several Septennaries are alike striking and just ; yet are they not more valuable and philosophical than very many of the moral and social reflections with which the work abounds. “ Perhaps the most original and important portion of the present volume is con- tained under the head of the seventh Septenniad, in which the reader is introduced to the knowledge of what Dr. Johnson calls the patho-proteian malady, or that unde- finable, fitful and ever- varying disease, which simulates almost every other malady incidental to man, but is, indeed, a substantive morbid condition engendered by the abnormal and complicated stimulations of civilized life. The immense increase, not only of the pleasures, but of the pains of existence, resulting from a high state of civilization, with its arts, its conveniences, its dense population, and consequent in- creased struggle for subsistence, calls upon the nervous system for a corresponding increase of activity. Disproportionate exertions of mental labour are requisite, to fit the individual for enjoying high station with dignity, or for pushing his upward career against incessant competition The result is a morbid increase of sensibility in the nervous system, which operating by sympathy on the nerves of the stomach, liver, and other organs, changes their action and deranges their functions. The details of this physiological constitution are investigated by Dr. Johnson with much acumen ; and they are exposed with a vigour of style that is entitled to rank as eloquence ” — Athenceum. “ This new work of Dr. Johnson’s, like all those of his which have preceded it, recommends itself to public attention by the interesting nature of the subject, as well as through the interesting form with which the author so happily invests every subject which he handles. ******* In taking leave of this book we will briefly remark, that of all the treatises on health and longevity, from Old Cornaro downwards — commend us to Dr. Johnson’s Economy of Health.” — Windsor and Eton Express. PRINTED BY F. HAYDEN, LITTLE COLLEGE STREET, WESTMINSTER. tijd _ V' ' >* .' .. . & gggj£-w >VjSM ■Rite SL. -L/'- Kt . .. ■ rs j&L ■; ;iKj|