PART I.

A DIALOGUE

_Between Dr. A.--a Physician, and Mr. B.--an Invalid, on the comparative merits of different Climates, as places of Winter residence._

"Ne quis _error loci_ nascatur--"

_Mr. B._--In a conversation which we held together in the early part of the summer, you will remember the promise you then gave of affording me such advice, relative to the choice of a winter's residence, as the declining state of my health might require. The autumn is now rapidly advancing, and I feel that no time should be lost in making such arrangements as may enable me to pass the approaching winter with the greatest prospect of benefit.

_Dr. A._--I fully acquiesce in the propriety of your resolution, and shall readily afford you any information in my power; but you well know that to a physician there is not a question which he approaches with so much diffidence, or dismisses with such little satisfaction.

_Mr. B._--I am well aware of the difficulties to which you refer; circumstances of a moral nature, with which the physician can rarely become sufficiently acquainted, must necessarily have considerable weight in directing the decision; but in my own case it is fortunate that no such embarrassment can impede your judgment. My only object and care is the restoration of health, and my means are sufficient to enable me to pursue it in any way which may give the fairest promise of success.

_Dr. A._--You mistake me, it was not to embarrassments of that kind that I was alluding.

_Mr. B._--Can then any other source of difficulty exist? To a medical practitioner who is in the habit of sending his patients to all parts of Europe in search of health, the real and comparative advantages of each locality must surely be well known.

_Dr. A._--Far otherwise, my dear friend; there are few subjects upon which medical men have more widely differed. It is true that we send our pulmonary sufferers to various parts of the continent, and that we receive from them a multiplicity of reports; but then they are often totally at variance with each other upon those very points which are generally considered as the least questionable; and when we attempt to reconcile this discordance, by an appeal to meteorological records, and registers of prevalent diseases, we are mortified to find that the evidence necessary for forming a safe and practical conclusion, requires a union of industry and accuracy which has not hitherto been found to exist in a sufficient number of collateral observers. Nor must it be forgotten, that the disease, for the cure of which the invalid is persuaded to emigrate, may require a very different atmosphere in its different stages and forms; and after all, how often does it happen that the sufferer is not sent abroad, until every chance of palliation has gone by.

_Mr. B._--I do not hesitate to declare that such conduct, on the part of a medical adviser, is as cruel as it is unprincipled; my confidence however in your integrity satisfies me that you will never abandon an unhappy sufferer to such a useless alternative; I must therefore request you to state your opinion, _generally_, as to the peculiar conditions upon which you consider the eligibility of a climate, in the cure or palliation of pulmonary affections, to depend.

_Dr. A._--This I shall do most cheerfully, especially in conversation with one, whose philosophical pursuits will have already instructed him in those principles, from which our conclusions are necessarily deduced.--Congenial warmth, and, above all, equability of temperature, are the first objects of inquiry in the theoretical comparison of climates; but these cannot be _practically_ ascertained, in relation to their effects upon the human body, by the thermometer; because they are constantly liable to be modified by causes of which we have no other indication but that afforded by our sensations.

_Mr. B._--That is strange;--and, so gratuitous does the assertion appear to me, that I should be better satisfied were you to support it by some examples.

_Dr. A._--Well then, I may instance for your satisfaction, the well known influence of peculiar winds combined with moisture, and which, although they may produce little or no variation in the thermometer will rapidly rob the body of its heat; the north-west winds which so commonly blow in the southern provinces of France are decidedly more mischievous to the pulmonary invalid than the March winds that desolate the more delicate frames in our own country, and yet the thermometer in this case affords no indication of their nature.

_Mr. B._--No one who wishes to form a just estimate of a climate, can doubt the propriety of taking the prevalence of wind, and the degree of atmospheric moisture into the account; although reasoning, from analogy, I should not suppose that this latter circumstance would be prejudicial; look at the moist and foggy atmosphere of Holland, and yet I am told that catarrhal affections are extremely rare in that country.

_Dr. A._--Moisture must make both heat and cold more sensible; the one, by diminishing perspiration, the other, by increasing the conducting power of the air;[137] humidity therefore may be an injurious, or a salutary condition, according to circumstances; but you are greatly mistaken in supposing that the Dutch owe their immunity from Catarrh to the dampness of their climate, for it is to be imputed to the greater equability of its temperature.

_Mr. B._ You no doubt place great stress upon the advantage of an equable climate.

_Dr. A._ I consider equability as the most important condition of all; especially where the temperature ranges at about 60° of Fahrenheit. It not only diminishes the chance of aggravating pulmonary disease by preventing Catarrhs, but it serves to preserve a genial and regular action of the skin, to keep the balance of blood constantly on the surface, and to prevent any undue congestion of it in the lungs. Besides, it is acknowledged on all sides, that consumption is most prevalent in countries and districts which are subject to great and rapid changes of temperature, and that it is comparatively rare in those which are free from the diurnal changes and sudden transitions which so characterise that of our own island.

_Mr. B._ Nothing can be more convincing than such reasoning;--but tell me for what reason you consider the temperature of 60° as an essential condition under these circumstances.

_Dr. A._ It is evident that no climate, however equable it may be _thermometrically_, can be considered as such in a _medical_ point of view, if its temperature ranges much below the degree I have mentioned; because in that case a material change must always occur whenever the invalid quits his apartment, and goes into the open air. So that I consider a cold climate must _in effect_ be always regarded as a variable one.

_Mr. B._ But cannot this objection be obviated by suitable cloathing?

_Dr. A._ To a certain extent perhaps, but recollect if you please, that there is no furnishing a great coat for the lungs, to protect their structure against the diminished temperature of the air which is breathed.

_Mr. B._ What opinion have you formed respecting the effects of a marine atmosphere?

_Dr. A._ I apprehend that question cannot be fairly answered without a reference to the symptoms and circumstances of each particular case; generally speaking, I am induced to consider the air of the sea as not hostile to diseased lungs, except perhaps in those cases in which Hectic fever is fully established; but then again cases will sometimes occur which would appear to sanction a contrary conclusion. Thus much I should say was certainly true, that in such situations you will always experience more humidity, and that when the air is cold, that cold will in consequence be more intolerable, for the reasons I have before stated. On the other hand you must be aware that a marine situation will enjoy a more equable temperature[138] than one similarly situated, but remote from the ocean, and as far as that goes it will have its advantages.

_Mr. B._ I should much like to know what the continental physicians think of this circumstance, with reference to their own climate.

_Dr. A._ Upon that point you may be easily satisfied by referring to Dr. Clark's work on foreign climates.[139] He says that the physicians on the sea coast send their consumptive patients into the interior, and those in the interior to the shores of the Mediterranean or Adriatic. From Genoa they send them into the interior, deeming the sea air injurious to them. From Naples they frequently send such invalids to Rome. From Rome, on the other hand, they send them frequently to Cività Vecchia, on the shores of the Mediterranean; more frequently to the shores of the Adriatic, and, occasionally, even to Naples!

_Mr. B._ And is this account to _satisfy_ me? why I am plunged deeper in doubt than ever by such testimony. No wonder that the physician should approach the subject of Climate with diffidence when he finds those best able, from experience, to appreciate its merits, so irreconcileably at variance with each other. In the next place, let me ask whether you advocate the advantages of a Sea Voyage?

_Dr. A._ Not unconditionally. Dr. Young has said, and I believe with much truth, that the greatest possible equability of temperature is to be obtained in a sea voyage to a warm climate; in which the variation will seldom amount to half as much as in the most favourable situation on shore, even on a small island.

_Mr. B._ The very condition which, of all others, you consider the most beneficial.

_Dr. A._ Undoubtedly, and if you can make interest with Neptune to push you forward with his trident, and persuade Æolus to slumber quietly in his caverns, lose no time in availing yourself of such advantages; but as long as the wind "bloweth where it listeth," I entreat you, my good friend, to remain on _terra firma_; depend upon it that experience will fully sanction this advice;--of the great number of patients who have been sent on such an errand, by far the greatest proportion have had the progress of their pectoral complaints rapidly accelerated during the voyage; remember the various kinds of physical injury and distress to which you must be exposed on board of ship, before you can reach a steady and warm climate, from bad weather, and different local causes which it is not necessary to enumerate;--four and twenty hours beating to windward are sufficient to counterbalance all the advantages that might be anticipated.

_Mr. B._ Why you must surely have been inoculated with the prejudices of Mr. Matthews, who tells us that the fatigue and discomfort of a vessel is much the same thing as being tossed in a blanket during one half of the day, and thrown into a pigsty for the remainder.

_Dr. A._ I never was more serious. If the weather be bad the patient has but one alternative, he is either half suffocated with smoke or an oppressive atmosphere in the cabin, or exposed on deck to cutting winds, rain, and cold, and to an air by far too free for diseased lungs; then again sea sickness, whatever may have been said to the contrary, reduces his strength rapidly, and if damp sheets are the _bug-bears_ of land travellers, damp clothes of every description are unavoidable at sea, and which in stormy weather can seldom be dried.

_Mr. B._ Well, you will at least allow that the motion of a ship is preferable to that of a carriage on a rough road.

_Dr. A._ I will not even concede this point, and were you only to read the interesting case of Dr. Currie, I am sure that you would be soon convinced of the contrary.

_Mr. B._ The opinion you have now expressed is sufficient; I shall not be readily induced to make the experiment of a sea voyage; suppose me then, if you please, to have been already transported across the channel on a calm day in a Steam-boat, and tell me to what part of the continent I am to direct my steps, in order to find a suitable residence for the winter months. I take it for granted that you consider the English Climate, from June to October as salutary to natives as that of any country in the world.

_Dr. A._ Beyond question;--but as an invalid who seeks permanent advantage from a foreign climate must be content to remain abroad for, at least, two winters, you will readily perceive that the consideration of his residence during the summer season is not entirely a subject of indifference.

_Mr. B._ My inclination would lead me to the south of France in preference to a more distant residence, provided the place should meet with your full concurrence.

_Dr. A._ The places to which English invalids have been more usually sent are Montpellier, Marseilles, Toulon, and Hieres; but I never ventured an opinion with less reserve when I declare, that I regard the very coldest parts of our own country to be less inimical to delicate lungs than the sharp and piercing air of the places which I have just mentioned. As to Montpellier, I am at a loss to understand how it could ever have obtained a reputation for its climate; and yet so universal was the belief, that its very name became, as you must well know, a characteristic epithet to places supposed to be preeminently salubrious.

_Mr. B._ Is it not remarkable for its clear blue sky, the very idea of which will always carry a charm with it to an Englishman?

_Dr. A._ Clear and brilliant enough, but the air is at the same time so sharp and biting, that every mouthful irritates the lungs, and produces excessive coughing,--and then you are, moreover, constantly assailed by one or the other of two destructive winds,--the _Bize_ bringing cold, and the _Marin_, moisture.

_Mr. B._ And yet to this same _Bize_, of whose sharpness you so greatly complain, did the Emperor Augustus erect an altar.

_Dr. A._ Very true, but we are told it was an homage like that which the Indians are said to pay to the infernal deity; to avert its wrath, not to conciliate its favour.

_Mr. B._ Is the locality of Marseilles less exceptionable?

_Dr. A._ By no means. Cold winds are always injurious, but they are rendered destructive, in a tenfold proportion, when alternated with heat. At Marseilles the dreaded _Mistral_ of Provence (a north-west wind), which is often accompanied by a clear atmosphere, and a powerful sun, reigns in all its glory. Toulon has the damning fault of Marseilles.

_Mr. B._ Is Hieres exposed to the same evil?

_Dr. A._ Not in the same degree. It has generally the credit of being much milder, and I really believe that it is justly preferred to every other place in Provence,--but it is not free from the _Mistral_. Dr. Clark, however, tells us that about the bases of the hills, there are some sheltered spots, where the invalid might enjoy several hours in the open air on almost every dry day, but then there exists a difficulty in reaching them at those times, when they would be most useful.

_Mr. B._ I see plainly, that a residence in the south of France would never realize my hopes of recovery; perhaps Nice may be more likely to afford satisfaction?

_Dr. A._ Nice, as you probably know, was first brought into vogue by our celebrated countryman, Dr. Smollet, who resided there during two winters, and it has been extolled by numerous writers since that period; the northern blasts, which rage with such fury in the south of France, are averted from this favoured valley by the maritime alps. Dr. Smollet, in speaking of its superior mildness, when compared with Provence, says, "the north-west winds blew as cold in Provence as ever I felt them on the mountains of Scotland, whereas Nice is altogether screened from them by mountains."

_Mr. B._ If I have been correctly informed, the neighbourhood of Nice is on many accounts preferable to the town itself.

_Dr. A._ The suburbs of the '_Croix de Marbre_' have been the favourite residence of the English, and indeed on that account are not unfrequently called the '_Fauxbourg des Anglois_'. This spot is situated immediately beyond the river _Paglion_, which, descending from its Alpine sources, washes the western extremity of the town and falls into the bay of Nice.

_Mr. B._ What accommodations are to be met with at Nice?

_Dr. A._ I have always understood that provisions are both good and abundant; some of my patients, however, have complained greatly of the bread as being sour and ill tasted from the leaven. As to the other accommodations, Dr. Clark says that they are also good, making allowance always for the inconveniences which, to an English family, are inseparable from foreign houses, such as smoky apartments, ill provided fire places, &c.

_Mr. B._ Now state, if you please, the objections that may be urged against Nice.

_Dr. A._ In the commencement of the winter, this valley is remarkably infested with mosquitoes, which greatly annoy strangers, especially children. During the months of November, December, and January, the climate would seem to embrace all the qualities so favourable to pectoral complaints, but the three following months are by no means unexceptionable. Although Nice be protected from the _Mistral_, yet in the spring of the year it is infested with cold sharp winds from the east, and north and south-east, which are highly mischievous to the valetudinarian.

_Mr. B._ It is clear then that he should quit Nice at this season.

_Dr. A._ That is not so easy as you may suppose, for unless he leaves it by sea, he must not venture to depart by any of the usual roads before the month of May; for should he direct his route to Turin, he will have a very rough and hazardous journey over the "_Col de Tende_," and may perchance be caught in a snow storm; if on the other hand, he returns by France, he must cross the "_Estrelles_," and expose himself to the cold winds of Provence.

_Mr. B._ Well these are strong objections; but taking into consideration all the advantages and disadvantages of Nice, will not the former so greatly preponderate, as to entitle it to the character it has long enjoyed as an eligible _winter_ residence for the consumptive?

_Dr. A._ I fear that medical experience will not sanction such a conclusion. Catarrhal affections are frequent amongst the inhabitants, and it has been remarked by those best able to investigate the subject, that the progress of pulmonary disease is rather accelerated than retarded by this climate. If you will allow me, I will read a passage from a late work by Dr. Carter, which places this subject in a very striking point of view. "Notwithstanding the mildness of Nice, it appeared to be of little or no service to persons labouring under confirmed consumption; during the winter I was there, I saw no instance of great amendment, and I even doubted whether life was not shortened in some instances by a residence there. Some medical men were clearly of that opinion; and as their interest should have led them to speak well of Nice, they must have been pretty strongly impressed with the conviction of its climate being hurtful to people in confirmed Phthisis, before they could have been induced to make this opinion public."[140]

_Mr. B._ This is discouraging; but is the testimony of Dr. Carter supported by other authorities?

_Dr. A._ By many others. Here is a work by Dr. Clark, who is himself resident at Rome, and a physician of great intelligence; he not only confirms the opinion of Dr. Carter, but adduces that of Professor Foderé who practised at Nice for more than six years, and who in a conversation with Dr. Clark, made the following strong observation. "There is one thing certain, Sir, you may safely assure your countrymen, that it is a very bad practice to send their consumptive patients to Nice." M. Foderé moreover observed, that consumption in this district is not, as in Switzerland, on the banks of the Soane, and in Alsace, a chronic disease; but, on the contrary, he has often seen it terminate in forty days; he says that the physician of the countries just mentioned would be quite astonished at the quickness with which one attack of pulmonary hemorrhage succeeds another, how readily the tubercles suppurate, and how speedily the lungs are destroyed. He is even inclined to believe that there exists, on the shores of the Mediterranean, some source of evil not appreciable by meteorological observations.

_Mr. B_. Enough of Nice. What of Pisa?

_Dr. A._ You may perhaps remember that Mr. Matthews, in his comparison of these two places, says, "I believe that Pisa is the very best place on the continent during the winter for complaints of the chest; and Nice, of which I speak from good authority, is perhaps the very worst. The air of the first, which is situated in a low plain, is warm, mild, and muggy; that of the second is pure, keen, and piercing."

_Mr. B._ To speak honestly, I entertain a very high respect for Mr. Matthews as an intelligent and agreeable tourist, but he is the very last authority upon which I could repose my confidence, with regard to the salubrity of a climate; his observations upon this head are too fretful and petulant to afford satisfaction.

_Dr. A._ His remarks upon Nice and Pisa will certainly justify the opinion you have formed; for there does not exist such a striking difference in the climate of these places as he has been induced to believe; although the latter town is certainly milder than Nice, and possesses the advantage of having good roads leading to it from all parts of Italy, so that the invalid may leave it with safety much earlier than he could Nice.

_Mr. B._ Are the spring winds less violent than at Nice?

_Dr. A._ Scarcely. The site of the houses, however, is better calculated to defend you from their influence. On the northern bank of the Arno, there is a crescent which faces the south, and is well protected from the north winds; this situation ought always to be selected by invalids who winter at Pisa.

_Mr. B._ If I resolve to winter in Italy, I shall probably prefer Pisa. I confess that I have received a prejudice against Rome, as well as Naples, from the reports of some friends who have lately returned from those places; but I should be glad to hear your opinion upon the subject.

_Dr. A._ Rome and Naples ought not to be named in the same breath, unless indeed for the sake of contrast. Rome possesses many points of excellence as a winter residence, but as to Naples at this season, I would not recommend an invalid, on any account, to try its climate:--conceive the effects of a hot sun with a winter wind of piercing bitterness! "_Vedi Napoli e po' mori_," says the proverb, and no wonder that it has received so many illustrations from the English. Upon this one point at least we must all concur with Mr. Matthews: "If," says he, "a man be tired of the slow lingering progress of consumption, let him repair to Naples; and the _denouement_ will be much more rapid."

_Mr. B._ But what of Rome--of the Eternal City?

_Dr. A._ That vehemence of expression, my good friend, betrays your polarity; in spite of your avowal I see clearly that your wishes point to the ancient Mistress of the world.

_Mr. B._ You really mistake me;--depend upon it that I shall undertake no pilgrimage but to the temple of Hygeia.

_Dr. A._ Rome has, by far, too many temptations for the invalid, and I confess that from the accounts which I have received from my patients, I am unable to discover any advantages equivalent to the risks.

_Mr. B._ I am even told that the climate of Rome is much colder than that of Nice in the winter.

_Dr. A._ You have been rightly informed; in addition to which, the streets are damp and chilly, and so variable in temperature, that there is not unfrequently a difference of twenty degrees between one street and another.

_Mr. B._ In what then does its excellence consist?

_Dr. A._ It is decidedly the best spring residence in Italy. The air is much more moist than that of Nice; and, at this season, it has the advantage of being less liable to cold winds; although it must be confessed that the _Tramontana_ (a sharp northerly wind,) is sometimes felt with considerable severity, but it does not affect the human body like the dry cold winds of Provence.

_Mr. B._ The prejudice which exists in my mind against Rome has arisen from the circumstance of many of my friends having suffered severely from head-ache, during their residence there.

_Dr. A._ Upon that point, I fear my opinion will rather strengthen than remove your prejudice. I have no hesitation in stating, that the same complaint has been frequently made to me; and even Dr. Clark, the English resident physician, confirms the objection.[141]

_Mr. B._ And then come the frightful _Malaria_.

_Dr. A._ The stranger has nothing to fear from these exhalations between October and the middle of May, after which period I should not recommend any invalid to protract his visit.

_Mr. B._ But suppose his object is to remain two winters at Rome,--where is he to find refuge during these intervals?

_Dr. A._ In the vicinity of Rome there are many spots which will furnish a very eligible residence during the hot weather, such are Albano, Frascati, Tivoli, Castel Gandolfo.

_Mr. B._ After what you have said, I think it is scarcely worth while for an invalid to encounter the fatigues of so long a journey; but you have not yet mentioned Florence.

_Dr. A._ Its climate is almost as changeable as our own, and far more mischievous, as its Siberian winds alternate with a temperature equal to that of our finest days in spring. The summer, however, is delightful, the heat being greatly tempered by the Apennines. Bicchierai, an Italian Physician of eminence, used to say, that he wondered how any body could _live_ at Florence in the winter, or _die_ there in the summer.

_Mr. B._ Upon the whole you have presented me with a very discouraging view of the Italian Climate; and I have always understood that Lisbon is intolerable to an Englishman from its filth.

_Dr. A._ Lisbon is out of the question: the character of its climate may be summed up in a few words. Its winter temperature is neither mild nor equable, and its spring is remarkable for dense and cold fogs; and as to what an Englishman calls comfort, there is not a city in the world where it is so systematically neglected.

_Mr. B._ Suppose I wave the objections to a sea voyage and set sail for Sicily?

_Dr. A._ In that case you will undoubtedly find a fine climate, superior in most respects to that of the Italian continent. The winter and spring seasons are remarkably mild, provided you select Palermo for your residence; Messina is exposed to cold piercing easterly winds from the mountains of Calabria.

_Mr. B._ I have heard Catania well spoken of.

_Dr. A._ Its atmosphere is too sulphureous; in addition to which every egress from the town is difficult and unpleasant, owing to the lava from the Volcano. But there is in my opinion an insuperable objection to the Sicilian climate from the extreme heat of its summer, from which the invalid cannot easily escape.

_Mr. B._ Well then, Malta.

_Dr. A._ Dr. Domeier, in his account of this climate, tells us that the thermometer seldom varies in this island more than 6° in the twenty-four hours, or stands below 51°, even in the depth of winter: but then the summer, which is protracted even to the month of November, is extremely mischievous from its heat, the force of which is severely felt in a country where there is scarcely any visible foliage, the place of hedges being universally occupied by stone walls.

_Mr. B._ Let me hear what you have to say with respect to the other islands which have gained celebrity for their climates, such as Madeira, the Bermudas, Jamaica,--

_Dr. A._ You must be well aware that these places are, generally speaking, beyond the reach of the ordinary class of English invalids. Madeira has been greatly extolled by Dr. Adams, who even ventures to assert that in cases of consumption, if the patient does not saunter away his time, after his physician has advised him to quit England, we may with certainty promise him a cure. In the West Indies it is agreed by all authors, that consumptive affections are almost unknown, and that scrofula in all its forms is uncommon.

_Mr. B._ Would you recommend a residence in the West Indies to a person who has free control over his movements?

_Dr. A._ If we may be allowed to draw any inference from the qualities of a climate, as indicated by the thermometer, or by its effects on the constitution of the inhabitants, there can be but little doubt that a residence in the Bermudas, in a temperate and sheltered part of Jamaica, or in some other of the West India Islands, would present every advantage, towards the recovery of a consumptive patient, that climate alone can bestow.

_Mr. B._ I thank you sincerely, my good Sir, for the patience and candour with which you have discussed the subject of climate. I am fully sensible of the difficulties with which it is encompassed, and of the utter impossibility of expecting from medical advice a satisfactory solution of the many problems which it involves. Every invalid must, to a certain extent, rely upon his own judgment; but before I finally decide upon the place of my destination, allow me to trespass still farther upon your patience, in order to learn whether, after all, there be not some favoured spot in our own country, where I might seek shelter from the approaching season, and which would supersede the necessity of travelling to a foreign land?

_Dr. A._ I should say to a person, who had been accustomed to the colder and more exposed parts of our island, try the effects of some more genial situation; and such a change would be as likely to favour convalescence as an emigration to the continent; for although by such a step, he might not obtain an equally favourable atmosphere, he would more than counterbalance the difference by ensuring the advantages of English comforts.

_Mr. B._ And to what parts of England would you direct him?

_Dr. A._ There are particular spots on the coast of Hampshire and Sussex which have been long considered as eligible places of winter residence; such are Southampton and Hastings, which are certainly less subject to the effect of the Northern and Eastern winds than many parts of our island; but they are not to be put in competition with Sidmouth, Dawlish, or Torquay in Devonshire, and still less with Penzance in Cornwall, which, after all, is the only situation which can be fairly said to possess any very material advantages from the mildness of its winter. I speak this from well grounded observation and experience. The Climate of Penzance is unlike that of any other part of the island.

_Mr. B._ I remember having received a favourable impression with respect to the climate of that place, from the perusal of a small work, entitled, a Guide to the Mount's Bay and the Land's End; a copy was lent me by Sir ---- ----, and I have since endeavoured to purchase one, but find that it is out of print.

_Dr. A._ Are you not aware then that you have been conversing with its author?--The book has been for some time out of print, but a second edition is nearly ready for publication; and, with your permission, I shall introduce, as nearly as my memory will serve, the conversation which we have just held together upon the subject of Climate.

_Mr. B._ By all means;--the questions which I have submitted for your opinion, are such as must naturally suggest themselves to every invalid who is in search of a winter residence, and as your little work, as far as I recollect, is intended for the same class of persons, its practical utility will be materially enhanced by the addition you have just proposed.

FOOTNOTES:

[137] See Paris's Pharmacologia, vol. I, chap. "_Expectorants_."

[138] See page 5 of the Guide.

[139] Medical Notes on Climate, Diseases, &c. in France, Italy, and Switzerland, by James Clark, M.D. London 1820.

[140] A Short Account of some of the Principal Hospitals of France, Italy, Switzerland, and the Netherlands, with Remarks upon the Climate and Diseases of those Countries. By H. W. Carter, M.D. London 1819.

[141] "There is one class of affections for which the Atmosphere of Rome appeared to me unfavourable. These are head-aches arising from a tendency to a fullness about the head. In many cases among the English residents, I found persons not previously subject to head-aches affected with them here, and some already liable to them had been aggravated. Apoplexy, I was told, was at one time so frequent at Rome that a day of public fasting was ordered, and a particular form of prayer addressed to St. Anthony to avert so dreadful a calamity from the Holy city."

APPENDIX.--PART II

_An Account of the First Celebration of the_ KNILLIAN GAMES at ST. IVES.

Alluded to at page 158 of this work.

We trust that our readers will find some amusement and relaxation, after the fatigue of their day's excursion, in the following _Jeu d'Esprit_, as originally written by an eye witness of the festivity; an institution which, adds the said writer, will go far to preserve the tone of the Cornish character, and which can never be neglected while the Cornish men continue to be brave, and the Cornish women to be virtuous.

The celebration of the Games at Olympia, after the revolution of every four years, formed the chief date of time among the Greeks; and perhaps in future the inhabitants of the West of England will reckon the years, as they pass, by the quinquennial return of the games at St. Ives.

I ought rather to have begun by stating, that John Knill, Esq. a gentleman formerly of great eminence in the above mentioned town, has bequeathed the income of a considerable estate to be distributed by the trustees in a variety of prizes to those who may excel in racing, in rowing, and in wrestling. A large sum is to be divided among a band of virgins, who are to be dressed all in white, and with four matrons, and a company of musicians preceding them, are to walk in pairs to the summit of the hill, which is near the town of St. Ives, where they are to dance and chaunt a hymn round the far famed mausoleum.

Ten guineas are appointed to be expended in a dinner at the grand hotel in the town, of which six of the principal inhabitants are to partake; and this festival is to be repeated every fifth year for ever.

From the earliest periods of history, the Cornish have been famous for their enthusiastic fondness of the athletic exercises of hurling, racing, wrestling, and rowing, and for the pious fervour of the hymns which the Druids instructed them to sing round the Cromlechs of the departed brave.

By establishing rewards for superiority in amusements in which the Cornish still delight to excel, Mr. Knill has shewn the patriotic feelings of his local attachments; while by the appropriate selection of the spot where these pastimes are to take place, he has given ample proof of the correctness of his taste. The enormous statue of Jupiter at Elis pointed out that part of Peloponnesus to the taste of the Greeks, as the most proper place for the celebration of the Olympic Games; and a sympathy of feeling and sentiment induced Mr. Knill to order that the Mausoleum, which he erected in the year 1782 should be the centre of the quinquennial festivities. This proud pyramid, whose base is situated on the summit of a rock, and whose apex is often concealed among the clouds, has hitherto formed only an object of ornamental magnificence, or a guide to the tempest tost mariner; but henceforth it will be regarded as the monument of fame--the pillar of the west--the Cornish column!

Monday last was the day appointed for the first celebration. I was present at the scene, and am induced to think, from this first specimen, that the rites of the hill will be celebrated in succeeding years with increased fervour and renewed admiration. Weak as my powers of description are, your readers may, perhaps, from the following account, conceive some idea of the interesting spectacle.

Early in the morning the roads from Helston, from Truro, and from Penzance, were lined with horses and vehicles of every description. These were seen amidst clouds of dust, pouring down the sides of the adjacent mountains; while thousands of travellers on foot chose the more pleasant route through the winding passages of the vallies. At noon the assembly was formed. The wrestlers entered the ring;--the troop of virgins dressed, all in white, advanced with solemn step, which was regulated by the notes of harmony. The spectators ranged themselves along the sides of the hills which inclose the extensive bay, while the pyramid on the summit seemed pointing to the sun, who appeared in all the majesty of light, rejoicing at the scene.

At length the Mayor of Saint Ives appeared in his robes of state. The signal was given. The flags were displayed in waving splendour from the towers of the castle. Here the wrestlers exerted their sinewy strength; there the rowers, in their various dresses of blue, white, and red, urged the gilded prows of their boats through the sparkling waves of the ocean; while the hills echoed to the mingled shouts of the victors, the dashing of the oars, the songs of the virgins, and the repeated plaudits of the admiring crowd, who stood so thick upon the crescent, which is formed by the surrounding mountains, as to appear, if I may so express myself, _one living amphitheatre_.

The ladies and gentlemen of Penzance returned to an elegant dinner which they had ordered to be prepared at the Union Hotel; and a splendid ball concluded the entertainment of the evening. The jolly god presided,--but a reproving smile from Venus restrained him, if he ventured beyond the due bounds of decorum. Hilarity and beauty danced to the most delicious notes of harmony; till the rosy finger of Aurora pointed to the hour at which the quinquennial festivities should close. Perhaps to many the visions of the night brought back the joys of the day, and the feet danced, the heart throbbed, and the cheek glowed, when the eye-lids were closed in sleep.

A SONG,

Written by one of the Head Poets of London for Mr. KNILL'S GAMES at Saint Ives.

(To the tune of "_Boys and Girls come out to play_.")

_Sung at the Mausoleum, by a Minstrel adorned with Ribbons._

Knill commands, and all obey, Lads and Lasses haste away, Aunts and Uncles,[142] Maids and Wives, All are gay, at gay St. Ives. No tongue is mute or foot is still, But One and All[143] are on the hill, In chorus round the tomb of Knill.

This you surely may rely on, Paul, Penzance, nor Marazion, Never saw in all their lives Such sport as now is at St. Ives. No tongue, &c.

Some in gigs and coaches flocking, Some without or shirt or stocking, All are crowding--not a hack But has three upon his back. No tongue, &c.

Of Virgins pure--(let envy squint, And malice sneer, there's nothing in't) Of Virgins pure a throng advance, And round the tomb in circles dance. No tongue, &c.

Boys on gingerbread are feeding, Cudgel-broken pates are bleeding; Races running, Wrestlers falling, Bones are cracking, women squalling. No tongue, &c.

Thro' the breaking wave below, Rowers urge the bounding prow; While many a Tub and many a Ray[144] Sport around in finny play. No tongue, &c.

All are running--what's the matter? Why, to see the fine Regatta. Earth and water, hill and bay, Share the frolic of the day. No tongue, &c.

Oh! it glads the heart to see e'm Gamble round the Mausoleum. All is joy: and laughter shakes All the merry land of Hakes.[145] No tongue, &c.

What a pother! what a deal is Talk'd about the games at Elis: Such as they--no not a million Equal what we call the Knillian. No tongue, &c.

Knill commands, and all obey, Lads and lasses haste away, All the world and all his wives. What was Greece to gay St. Ives!! No tongue is mute, no foot is still, But _One and All_ are on the hill In chorus round the tomb of Knill.

_An appropriate Chorus to be sung round the Tomb by the Virgins._

Quit the bustle of the Bay, Hasten, Virgins, come away; Hasten to the mountain's brow, Leave, oh! leave St. Ives below! Haste to breathe a purer air Virgins fair, and pure as fair. Quit St. Ives and all her treasures, Fly her soft voluptuous pleasures, Fly her sons and all the wiles, Lurking in their wanton smiles; Fly her splendid midnight halls, Fly the revels of her Balls; Fly, oh! fly the chosen seat, Where vanity and fashion meet. Hither hasten; form the ring, Round the tomb in chorus sing, And on the lofty mountain's brow Aptly dite, (Just as we should be, all in white) Leave all our _Cowels_,[146] and our cares below.

FOOTNOTES:

[142] _Aunts and Uncles._ A Cornish epithet indiscriminately applied to elderly persons.

[143] _One and All_ is the Cornish motto.

[144] Common fish at St. Ives.

[145] St. Ives abounds with a fish called a _Hake_.

[146] See the explanation of this term at page 34.

A CORNISH DIALOGUE

Between GRACE PENVEAR and MARY TREVISKEY.

GREACEY.

Fath and Trath than! I bleeve in ten Parishes round Sichey Roag, sichey Vellan es nat to ba found.

MALLY.

Whoats' tha' fussing, Un Greacey! long wetha Cheel Vean?

GREACEY.

A fussing a ketha! oads splet 'es ould breane! Our Martn's cum'd hum cheeld so drunk as a beast, And so cross as the Gallish from Perran-zan feaast: A cum'd in a tottering, cussing, and sweering So hard as a Stompses, and tarving and teering!

MALLY.

Naver meynd et un Greacey, goa, poat en to bed Al sleep ale tha lecker aweay froam es head.

GREACEY.

I'd nat goa a neest en to fang tha Kings Crown, For a sweers ef I speek to'an al cleev ma skuel down: Tha navar en ale tha boarn daeys, fath and shoar, Dedst behould sichey Maze-gerry Pattick a foar.

Why, a scat ale to Midjans and Jowds for the noans, A clom Buzza of scale melk about on tha scoans. And a raak'd up a showl for to steeve ma' outright, But I'm run'd awaey, readdy to feyntey for freyt! Loard! tell ma un Mally! whaat shall Ey do by 'an? For Zoundtikins Deth! Ey'm a fear'd to cum ny'an.

MALLY.

I know whoat Ey'd gee'an ef so bee 'twor my case, Ey'd scat tha ould Chacks aa'n; Ey'd trem 'an un Greace.

GREACEY.

Ey'm afeard o'my leyf to coam ny tha ould Vellan, Else pleas faather! Ey bleeve Ey shu'd murely kill 'an. Wor ever poor creychar so baal'd and aboos'd, Ma heep here leyke bazzom, tha Roag have a bruis'd. Ey mad for 'es sopar a Muggety Pye, But a shaan't clunk a croom a'te Ey wish Ey meay die!

MALLY.

Aye! Ey tould tha afore that tha jobb wor a done, That tha'd'st find out tha odds 'ate, so shoor as a gun; But tha' wouds'nt hark to ma for doubting, for why That beshoor, that tha knowd'st 'en mooch better than Ey; But Ey knaw'd tha good trem 'ane befour tha's't a got 'en; Ey cou'd tell tha a mashes of stoareys about en; But tha' aanserds't soa heytish and shrinkt up tha noaz: 'A gissing 'twor greeat stromming leys Ey sopoaz! But there's one of es praenks Ey shall aleweays remembar 'Twill be three years agone coam tha eighth of Novembar, Ey'd two pretty young Mabjers as eyes cu'd behould, So fat as tha Botar; jest iteen wiks ould, Tha wor picking about in tha Tewn plaace for meat, Soa Ey hov downe sum Pillas amongst mun to eat: When who but your man comd a tott'ring along Soa drunk, that Ey thoft fath, ad fale in tha dung! 'A left tomble 'es Hoggan-bag jest by tha doar, Soa I caled to tha man as one wud to be shoor, Sez Ey, Martyn! dust hire Cheeld! teak up tha bag, "Arrea" sez a, "for whoat beest a caleing me Dog?" And dreev'd forth toweards ma, nar bettar nar wuss Nack'd the Mabjers boath steff, we a gaert mawr o' fuss; Ley'k enow ef Ey hadnt shov'd haastis awaey A'd a done as a ded to Jan Rous t'oather daey, When a gote en eis tantrums, a wilfull ould Devel, A slam'd tha poor Soal on tha head we a Yevel; Fath and Soal than un Gracey ef so bee a doent aelter Ey bleev e ma conshance el swing en a haelter.

GREACEY. When tha Leker es runn'd awaey every drap 'Tis too late to ba thenking of plugging the Tap, And marridge must goa as the Loard do ordean, But a Passon wud swear to ba used so Cheeld Vean. Had Ey smilt out tha coose 'ane but neyne weeks ago Ey'd never a had tha ould Vellan Ey know, But a vowd and a swear'd that if Ey'd by hes weyf That Ey naver shud lack ale tha daeys o' ma leyf; And a broft me a Nakin and Corn saave from Preen; En ma conshance thoft Ey, Ey shall leve leyk a Queen. But 'tes plaguey provoking, od rat es ould head! To be pooted and flopt soa! Ey wish a war dead. Why a spent haafe es fangings laast Saterday neyt, Leyk enow by this teym 'tes gone every dyte. But Ey'll tame tha ould Devel, afor et es long, Ef Ey caant we ma Viestes--Ey will we ma Tongue.

(Fuss) [a low cant word] a tumult, a bustle. Swift. (Un) Aunt--a title usually given to an elderly woman. (Vean) [Cornish for little] Cheel Vean--little Child. (Tarving) [a cant word] struggling, convulsions, _Tarvings_. (Fang) [Saxon] to gripe, receive, &c. Shakespear. (Maze-gerry Pattick) a mad brutish or frolicsome fool. (Midjans and Jouds) shreds and tatters. (Noans) [Nonce] on purpose. (Clom Buzza) a coarse earthen pot. (Scoans) the pavement. (Showl) a shovel. (Steeve) stave. (Scat) to give a blow, to break. (Chacks) cheeks. (Murely) almost. (Baal'd) mischievously beaten. (Bazzom) of a blue or purple colour. (Muggety Pye) a pye made of sheeps guts, parsley and cream, pepper and salt. (Clunk) swallow. (Croom) crumb. (Mashes) a great many, number, &c. (Mabjers) Mab Hens--young fowls two-thirds grown. (Pillas) [Pilez--Cornish] the _avena nuda_ or naked oats of Ray; bald, bare or naked oats without husks. (Hoggan) Hogan in Cornish British signifies a Hawthorn berry; also any thing mean or vile; but here it means a Pork pasty; and now indeed a Tinner's Pasty is called a _Hoggan_. (Arrea) Arria [vulg. for Ria] O strange. (Gaert) great, "gaert mawr o Fuss," great root of Furze. (Haestis) hastily. (Yevil) a Dung fork with three prongs. (Passon) Parson. (Coose) course or way of him. (Neyne weeks)--as though they had been married but nine weeks, whereas in the third line, she is addressed by Un Mally as 'long wetha Cheeld vean.' This will be readily explained by noticing a custom very prevalent among the lower ranks of the county, as will appear by the following anecdote. A friend of mine who was one year an officer in one of the mining parishes, told me that of fifty-five couples married during that year, it was _manifest_ by the appearance of fifty of the ladies, that they ought to have been married several moons before. A young man, to the honor of the county be it said, (even if the practice be to its disparagement) needs no compulsion to marry his lass when in this condition. (Nackin) Handkerchief. (Preen) Penryn. (Pooted) kicked. (Fangings) gettings or wages. (Viestes) Fists.

CARN BREH,[147]

AN ODE HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED, By Dr. WALCOT,

BETTER KNOWN BY THE POETICAL APPELLATION OF PETER PINDAR.[148]

While nature slumbers in the shade, And Cynthia, cloth'd in paly light, Walks her lone way, the mount I tread, Majestic mid the gloom of night. With reverence to the lofty hill I bow, Where Wisdom, Virtue, taught their founts to flow.

Wan, on yon rocks' aspiring steep Behold a Druid form, forlorn! I see the white rob'd phantom weep-- I hear to heaven his wild harp mourn. The temples open'd to the vulgar eye; And Oaks departed, wake his inmost sigh.

O! lover of the twilight hour, That calls thee from the tombs of death, To haunt the cave, the time-struck tower, The sea-girt cliff, the stormy heath; Sweet is thy minstrelsy to him whose lays First sung this hallow'd hill of ancient days.

Yet not this Druid-scene alone Inspires the gloom-delighted muse; Ah! many a hill to fame unknown, With awe the tuneful wanderer views; And oft while midnight lends her list'ning ear, Sings darkling, to the solitary sphere.

Poor Ghost! no more the Druid band Shall watch, Devotion-wrapt, their fire, No more, high sounding thro' the land, To Virtue strike the plauding lyre. The snake along the frowning fragment creeps, And fox obscene beneath the shadow sleeps.

No more beneath the golden hook The treasures of the grove shall fall; Time triumphs o'er each vanish'd oak-- The power whose might shall crush this ball-- Yet, yet, till Nature droops the head to die Compassion grant each monument a sigh.

The bards, in lays sublime, no more The warrior's glorious deeds relate; Whose patriot arm a thunder bore, That hurl'd his country's foe to fate: Lo! mute the harp near each pale Druid hung, Mute, like the voice that once accordant sung.

Save when the wandering breeze of morn, Or eve's wild gale with wanton wing, To hear the note of sorrow mourn, Steals to the silent sleeping string, And wildly brushing, wakes with sweetest swell, The plaintive trembling spirit of the shell.

Here Virtue's awful voice was heard, That pour'd the instructive truth profound, Here Cornwall's sons that voice rever'd, Where sullen silence sleeps around. See where she sung, sad, melancholy, tread, A pensive pilgrim o'er th' unconscious dead.

She calls on Alda's, Odred's name, Sons to the darken'd world of yore! Lur'd by whose eagle-pinion'd fame, The stranger left his native shore, Daring, his white sail to the winds he gave, And sought fair knowledge o'er the distant wave.

Tho' few these awful rocks revere, And temples that deserted lie, The muse shall ask the tenderest tear That ever dropt from Pity's eye, T' embalm the ruins that her sighs deplore, Where Wisdom, Virtue dwelt, but dwell no more.

FOOTNOTES:

[147] For a description of this hill see page 208.

[148] Dr. Walcot was apprenticed to his uncle, who was an apothecary at Fowey in Cornwall, and after having practised for some years in the West Indies, he settled as a Physician at Truro: after residing there for some time, he suddenly quitted the county, in consequence of a law suit in which he was engaged against the Corporation of Truro; the dispute related to the right of their putting upon him a parish apprentice; when he sold his effects, shut up his house, and informed the officers that if they were determined to carry their point, they might put the apprentice into the empty building, as he should never enter it again.

London: printed by William Phillips, George Yard, Lombard Street.

Transcriber's Notes

Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.

Hyphen added: Carn[-]breh (p. xvii), clay[-]slate (pp. 49, 181fn, 236), light[-]house (pp. 90fn, 93, 99), sub[-]marine (p. 230).

Hyphen removed: Corn[-]fields (p. 42), head[-]land (p. 1).

Both "octahedron / octahedral" and "octohedron / octohedral" appear and have not been changed.

Both "contemporaneous" and "cotemporaneous" occur and have not been changed.

P. x: 52.--Westorn -> 52.--Western.

P. xviii: exsensive fresh-water lake -> extensive fresh-water lake.

P. 19: Land'e End District -> Land's End District.

P. 33: pasturage of the neigbourhood -> pasturage of the neighbourhood.

P. 34 fn: differ much in flavor -> differ much in flavour.

P. 38 fn: posseseed by many of the Fish-women -> possessed by many of the Fish-women.

P. 42: Gear Slamps -> Gear Stamps.

P. 43: Bogs in the neighourhood -> Bogs in the neighbourhood.

P. 68: 29th years -> 29th year.

P. 70: cells, revenues, snd chapel -> cells, revenues, and chapel.

P. 76: their remoal amounted to -> their removal amounted to.

P. 105: maay zealous antiquaries -> many zealous antiquaries.

P. 115: sevesal Tin streams -> several Tin streams.

P. 127: mistaken and disppointed -> mistaken and disappointed.

P. 138: Stalacites -> Stalactites.

P. 144: hugh blocks of this stone -> huge blocks of this stone.

P. 191: Sate Lottery -> State Lottery..

P. 198: quite impossibe to convey -> quite impossible to convey.

P. 216: On one of these pannels -> On one of these panels.

P. 240: pulmonary suffererers -> pulmonary sufferers.