Chapter 3

Salt appears to be a necessary and universal stimulus to animated beings; and its effects upon the vegetable as well as animal kingdom have furnished objects of the most interesting inquiry to the physiologist, the chemist, the physician, and the agriculturist. It appears to be a natural stimulant to the digestive organs of all warm-blooded animals, and that they are instinctively led to immense distances in pursuit of it. This is strikingly exemplified in the avidity with which animals in a wild state seek the salt-pans of Africa and America, and in the difficulties they will encounter to reach them: this cannot arise from accident or caprice, but from a powerful instinct, which, beyond control, compels them to seek, at all risks, that which is salubrious. To those who are anxious to gain further information upon this curious subject, I would recommend the perusal of a work entitled "_Thoughts on the Laws relating to Salt_," by Samuel Parkes, Esq., and a small volume by my late lamented friend Sir Thomas Bernard, on the "_Case of the Salt Duties, with Proofs and Illustrations_." We are all sensible of the effect of salt on the human body; we know how unpalatable fresh meat and vegetables are without it. During the course of my professional practice, I have had frequent opportunities of witnessing the evils which have attended an abstinance from salt. In my examination before a committee of the House of Commons in 1818, appointed for the purpose of inquiring into the laws respecting the salt duties, I stated, from my own experience, the bad effects of a diet of unsalted fish, and the injury which the poorer classes, in many districts, sustained in their health from an inability to procure this essential condiment. I had some years ago a gentleman of rank and fortune under my care, for a deranged state of the digestive organs, accompanied with extreme emaciation. I found that, from some cause which he could not explain, he had never eaten any salt with his meals: I enforced the necessity of his taking it in moderate quantities, and the recovery of his digestive powers was soon evinced in the increase of his strength and condition. One of the ill effects produced by an unsalted diet is the generation of worms. Mr. Marshall has published the case of a lady who had a natural antipathy to salt, and was in consequence most dreadfully infested with worms during the whole of her life.--(_London Medical and Physical Journal_, vol. xxix. No. 231.) In Ireland, where, from the bad quality of the food, the lower classes are greatly infested with worms, a draught of salt and water is a popular and efficacious anthelmintic. Lord Somerville, in his Address to the Board of Agriculture, gave an interesting account of the effects of a punishment which formerly existed in Holland. "The ancient laws of the country ordained men to be kept on bread alone, unmixed with salt, as the severest punishment that could be inflicted upon them in their moist climate. The effect was horrible; these wretched criminals are said to have been devoured by worms engendered in their own stomachs." The wholesomeness and digestibility of our bread are undoubtedly much promoted by the addition of salt which it so universally receives.

_Dr. Paris--quoted in the Doctor._

* * * * *

PROGRESS OF THE SCIENCES.

The first savages collected in the forests a few nourishing fruits, a few salutary roots, and thus supplied their most immediate wants. The first shepherds observed that the stars moved in a regular course, and made use of them to guide their journeys across the plains of the desert. Such was the origin of the mathematical and physical sciences. Once convinced that it could combat nature by the means which she herself afforded, genius reposed no more, it watched her without relaxation, it made incessantly new conquests over her, all of them distinguished by some improvement in the situation of our race. From that time a succession of conducting minds, faithful depositories of the attainments already made, constantly occupied in connecting them, in vivifying them by means of each other, have conducted us, in less than forty ages, from the first essays of rude observers to the profound calculations of Newton and La Place, to the learned classifications of Linnaeus and Jussieu. This precious inheritance, perpetually increasing, brought from Chaldea into Egypt, from Egypt into Greece, concealed during ages of disaster and of darkness recovered in more fortunate times, unequally spread among the nations of Europe, has everywhere been followed by wealth and power; the nations which have reaped it are become the mistresses of the world; such as have neglected it, are fallen into weakness and obscurity.

_Curtis's Lectures on the Ear._

* * * * *

THE CAUSES OF DISEASE.

Daily observation demonstrates that the human structure, even in its most perfect formation is liable to lesions of organization and derangment of function, producing that state of the system in which its usual actions or perceptions are either interrupted or attended with pain--this state is called disease. Every animal carries within itself the germ of its own destruction, or, in other words, it is formed for a limited existence. Many diseases, therefore arise spontaneously, or without any assignable external cause; but many more are produced by causes, over which we have some control, and perhaps the chief source of the physical ills to which we are liable, is the deviation we make from the simplicity of nature. The injurious influence that domestication has upon the health of the lower animals is very strikingly apparent; and in proportion as their subjugation is more complete, and their manner of life differs more widely from that which is natural to them, so are their diseases more numerous and severe. The diseases of our more valuable domestic animals are sufficiently numerous and important to employ a particular class of men; and the horse alone has professional assistance appropriated to him. Men of education and talent have devoted themselves to the investigation of the diseases of this noble and useful creature. The poor little canary birds confined in their prisons, are very liable to disease, more especially inflammation of the bowels, asthma, epilepsy, and soreness of the bill. No animal deviates so far from the simplicity of nature in its habits, as man; none is placed under the influence of so many circumstances, calculated to act unfavourably upon the frame. His morbid affections are hence abundant and diversified, as may be seen by referring to the different nosological arrangements; these long catalogues of diseases affording strong evidence that man has not carefully followed that way of life which has been marked out for him by nature. The crowded state of the inhabitants of large cities; the injurious effects of an atmosphere loaded with impurities; sedentary occupations; various unwholesome avocations; intemperance in food; stimulating drinks; high-seasoned and indigestible viands (and these taken hastily in the short intervals allowed by the hurry and turmoil of business); the constant inordinate activity of the great central circulation, kept up by the double impulse of luxurious habits and high mental exertions; the violent passions by which we are agitated and enervated; the various disappointments and vexations to which all are liable, reacting upon and disturbing the whole frame; the delicacy and sensibility to external influences, caused by heated rooms, too warm clothing, and other indulgencies; are all contrary to the voice of nature, and they produce those morbid conditions of the system which a more simple and uniform mode of living would prevent. Our associates of the animal kingdom do not escape the influence of such causes: the mountain shepherd and his dog are equally hardy, and form an instructive contrast between a delicate lady and her lap-dog; the extreme point of degeneracy and imbecility of which each race is susceptible. In the early ages of society man enjoyed long life, his manner of living was simple, his food, habitation, and pursuits, were all calculated to fortify the body, and no anxious cares disturbed his mind.

_Curtis's Essay on the Deaf and Dumb._

* * * * *

REFORM OF CRIMINAL LAW.

How noble and pure was the ambition of Sir Samuel Romilly we may learn from the following beautiful passages, where he has explained the motives by which he was actuated in his proposed reforms of the criminal law. "It was not," said he, "from light motives---it was from no fanciful notions of benevolence, that I have ventured to suggest any alteration in the criminal law of England. It has originated in many years' reflection, and in the long-established belief that a mitigation of the severe penalties of our law will be one of the most effectual modes to preserve and advance the humanity and justice for which this country is so eminently distinguished. Since the last session of parliament, I have repeatedly reconsidered the subject: I am more and more firmly convinced of the strength of the foundation upon which I stand; and even if I had doubted my own conclusions, I cannot forget the ability with which I was supported within these walls; nor can be insensible to the humane and enlightened philosophy by which, in contemplative life, this advancement of kindness has been recommended. I cannot, therefore, hastily abandon a duty which, from my success in life, I owe to my profession--which, as a member of this house, I owe to you and to my country--and which, as a man blessed with more than common prosperity, I owe to the misguided and unfortunate."

_Roscoe's Lives of Eminent Lawyers._

* * * * *

AN UPRIGHT JUDGE.

The character of Sir Matthew Hale as a judge was splendidly pre-eminent. His learning was profound; his patience unconquerable; his integrity stainless. In the words of one who wrote with no friendly feeling towards him, "his voice was oracular, and his person little less than adored." The temper of mind with which he entered upon the duties of the bench is best exemplified in the following resolutions, which appear to be composed on his being raised to the dignity of chief baron at the restoration.

"Things necessary to be continually had in remembrance:--

"1. That in the administration of justice I am intrusted for God, the king, and country; and therefore,

"2. That it be done--1. uprightly; 2. deliberately; 3. resolutely.

"3. That I rest not upon my own understanding or strength, but implore and rest upon the direction and strength of God.

"4. That in the exertion of justice I carefully lay aside my own passions, and not give way to them, however provoked.

"5. That I be wholly intent upon the business I am about, remitting all other cares and thoughts as unseasonable and interruptions.

"6. That I suffer not myself to be pre-possessed with any judgment at all, till the whole business and both parties be heard.

"7. That I never engage myself in the beginning of any cause, but reserve myself unprejudiced till the whole be heard.

"8. That in business capital, though my nature prompt me to pity, yet to consider there is a pity also due to the country.

"9. That I be not too rigid in matters purely conscientious, where all the harm is diversity of judgment.

"10. That I be not biassed with compassion to the poor, or favour to the rich, in point of justice.

"11. That popular or court applause or distaste have no influence in anything I do, in point of distribution of justice.

"12. Not to be solicitous what men will say or think, so long as I keep myself exactly according to the rule of justice.

"13. If in criminals it be a measuring cast, to incline to mercy and acquittal.

"14. In criminals that consist merely in words, where no more harm ensues, moderation is no injustice.

"15. In criminals of blood, if the fact be evident, severity is justice.

"16. To abhor all private solicitations, of what kind soever, and by whomsoever, in matters depending.

"17. To charge my servants--1. Not to interpose in any matter whatsoever; 2. Not to take more than their known fees; 3. Not to give any undue precedence to causes; 4. Not to recommend counsel.

"18. To be short and sparing at meals, that I may be the fitter for business."

Under the influence of resolutions like these, the conduct of Hale on the bench appears to have been almost irreproachable.

_Ibidem._

* * * * *

THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

DRYBURGH ABBEY.

'Twas morn--but not the ray which falls the summer boughs among, When beauty walks in gladness forth, with all her light and song; 'Twas morn--but mist and cloud hung deep upon the lonely vale, And shadows, like the wings of death, were out upon the gale.

For He whose spirit woke the dust of nations into life-- That o'er the waste and barren earth spread flowers and fruitage rife-- Whose genius, like the sun, illumed the mighty realms of mind-- Had fled for ever from the fame, love, friendship of mankind!

To wear a wreath in glory wrought his spirit swept afar, Beyond the soaring wing of thought, the light of moon or star; To drink immortal waters, free from every taint of earth-- To breathe before the shrine of life, the source whence worlds had birth!

There was wailing on the early breeze, and darkness in the sky, When, with sable plume, and cloak, and pall, a funeral train swept by; Methought--St. Mary, shield us well!--that other forms moved there, Than those of mortal brotherhood, the noble, young, and fair!

Was it a dream?--how oft, in sleep, we ask, "Can this be true?" Whilst warm imagination paints her marvels to our view;-- Earth's glory seems a tarnish'd crown to that which we behold, When dreams enchant our sight with things whose meanest garb is gold!

Was it a dream?--methought the "dauntless Harold" passed me by-- The proud "Fitz-James," with martial step, and dark, intrepid eye; That "Marmion's" haughty crest was there, a mourner for his sake; And she, the bold, the beautiful, sweet "Lady of the Lake."

The "Minstrel," whose _last lay_ was o'er, whose broken harp lay low, And with him glorious "Waverley," with glance and step of wo; And "Stuart's" voice rose there, as when, 'midst fate's disastrous war, He led the wild, ambitious, proud, and brave "Ich Ian Vohr."

Next, marvelling at his sable suit, the "Dominie" stalk'd past, With "Bertram," "Julia" by his side, whose tears were flowing fast; "Guy Mannering," too, moved there, o'erpowered by that afflicting sight; And "Merrilies," as when she wept on Ellangowan's height.

Solemn and grave, "Monkbarns" approached, amidst that burial line; And "Ochiltree" leant o'er his staff, and mourn'd for "Auld lang syne!" Slow march'd the gallant "McIntyre," whilst "Lovel" mused alone; For _once_, "Miss Wardour's" image left that bosom's faithful throne!

With coronach, and arms reversed, forth came "MacGregor's" clan-- Red "Dougal's" cry peal'd shrill and wild--"Rob Roy's" bold brow look'd wan; The fair "Diana" kissed her cross, and bless'd its sainted ray; And "Wae is me!" the "Bailie" sighed, "that I should see this day!"

Next rode in melancholy guise, with sombre vest and scarf, Sir Edward, Laird of Ellieslaw, the far-renowned "Black Dwarf;" Upon his left, in bonnet blue, and white locks flowing free-- The pious sculptor of the grave--stood "Old Mortality!"

"Balfour of Burley," of "Claverhouse," the "Lord of Evandale," And stately "Lady Margaret," whose woe might naught avail! Fierce "Bothwell" on his charger black, as from the conflict won; And pale "Habakuk Mucklewrath," who cried, "God's will be done!"

And like a rose, a young white rose, that blooms mid wildest scenes, Passed she,--the modest, eloquent, and virtuous "Jeanie Deans;" And "Dumbedikes," that silent laird, with love too _deep_ to _smile_, And "Effie," with her noble friend, the good "Duke of Argyle."

With lofty brow, and bearing high, dark "Ravenswood" advanced, Who on the false "Lord Keeper's" mien with eye indignant glanced; Whilst graceful as a lonely fawn, 'neath covert close and sure, Approached the beauty of all hearts--the "Bride of Lammermoor!"

Then "Annot Lyle," the fairy queen of light and song, stepped near, The "Knight of Ardenvohr," and _he_, the gifted Hieland Seer: "Dalgetty," "Duncan," "Lord Monteith," and "Ranald," met my view-- The hapless "Children of the Mist," and bold "Mhich-Connel-Dhu!"

On swept "Bois Guilbert"--"Front de Boeuf"--"De Bracy's" plume of woe; And "Coeur de Lion's" crest shone near the valiant "Ivanhoe;" While soft as glides a summer cloud "Rowena" closer drew, With beautiful "Rebecca"--peerless daughter of the Jew!

Still onward like the gathering night advanced that funeral train-- Like billows when the tempest sweeps across the shadowy main; Where'er the eager gaze might reach, in noble ranks were seen, Dark plume, and glittering mail and crest, and woman's beauteous mien!

A sound thrilled through that lengthening host! methought the vault was closed, Where in his glory and renown fair Scotia's bard reposed!-- A sound thrilled through that length'ning host! and forth my vision fled! But, ah! that mournful dream proved true,--the immortal Scott was dead!

_Literary Gazette._

* * * * *

LORD BYRON'S "LOVE."

_From Lady Blessington's Conversations._

Of love he had strange notions: he said that most people had _le besoin d'aimer_, and that with this _besoin_ the first person who fell in one's way contented one. He maintained that those who possessed the most imagination, poets for example, were most likely to be constant in their attachments, as with the _beau ideal_ in their heads, with which they identified the object of their attachment, they had nothing to desire, and viewed their mistresses through the brilliant medium of fancy, instead of the common one of the eyes. "A poet, therefore (said Byron), endows the person he loves with all the charms with which his mind is stored, and has no need of actual beauty to fill up the picture. Hence he should select a woman, who is rather good-looking than beautiful, leaving the latter for those who, having no imagination, require actual beauty to satisfy their tastes. And after all (said he), where is the actual beauty that can come up to the bright 'imaginings' of the poet? where can one see women that equal the visions, half mortal, half angelic, that people his fancy? Love, who is painted blind (an allegory that proves the uselessness of beauty), can supply all deficiencies with his aid; we can invest her whom we admire with all the attributes of loveliness, and though time may steal the roses from her cheek, and the lustre from her eye, still the original _beau ideal_ remains, filling the mind and intoxicating the soul with the overpowering presence of loveliness. I flatter myself that my Leila, Zuleika, Gulnare, Medora, and Haidee will always vouch for my taste in beauty: these are the bright creations of my fancy, with rounded forms, and delicacy of limbs, nearly so incompatible as to be rarely if ever united; for where, with some rare exceptions, do we see roundness of contour accompanied by lightness, and those fairy hands and feet that are at once the type of beauty and refinement. I like to shut myself up, close my eyes, and fancy one of the creatures of my imagination, with taper and rose-tipped fingers, playing with my hair, touching my cheek, or resting its little snowy-dimpled hand on mine. I like to fancy the fairy foot, round and pulpy, but small to diminutiveness, peeping from beneath the drapery that half conceals it, or moving in the mazes of the dance. I detest thin women; and unfortunately all, or nearly all plump women, have clumsy hands and feet, so that I am obliged to have recourse to imagination for my beauties, and there I always find them. I can so well understand the lover leaving his mistress that he might write to her, I should leave mine, not to write to, but to think of her, to dress her up in the habiliments of my ideal beauty, investing her with all the charms of the latter, and then adoring the idol I had formed. You must have observed that I give my heroines extreme refinement, joined to great simplicity and want of education. Now, refinement and want of education are incompatible, at least I have ever found them so: so here again, you see, I am forced to have recourse to imagination, and certainly it furnishes me with creatures as unlike the sophisticated beings of civilized existence, as they are to the still less tempting, coarse realities of vulgar life. In short, I am of opinion that poets do not require great beauty in the objects of their affection; all that is necessary for them is a strong and devoted attachment from the object, and where this exists, joined to health and good temper, little more is required, at least in early youth, though with advancing years, men become more _exigeants_." Talking of the difference between love in early youth and in maturity, Byron said, "that, like the measles, love was most dangerous when it came late in life."

_New Monthly Magazine._

* * * * *

UMBRELLAS.

_By one of the year 1750._

Umbrellas, in my youth, were not ordinary things; few but the macaronis of the day, as the dandies were then called, would venture to display them. For a long while it was not usual for men to carry them without incurring the brand of effeminacy, and they were vulgarly considered as the characteristics of a person whom the mob hugely disliked, namely, a mincing Frenchman! At first, a single umbrella seems to have been kept at a coffee-house for some extraordinary occasion--lent as a coach or chair in a heavy shower--but not commonly carried by the walkers. The Female Tatler advertises, "the young gentleman belonging to the custom-house who, in fear of rain, borrowed _the umbrella from Wilks' Coffee-House_, shall the next time be welcome to the maid's _pattens_." An umbrella carried by a man was obviously then considered as extreme effeminacy. As late as in 1778, one John Macdonald, a footman, who has written his own life, informs us that when he used "a fine silk umbrella, which he had brought from Spain, he could not with any comfort to himself use it; the people calling out 'Frenchman! why don't you get a coach?'" The fact was that the hackney-coachmen and the chairmen, joining with the true _esprit de corps_, were clamorous against this portentous rival. This footman, in 1778, gives us further information. "At this time there were no umbrellas wore in London, except in noblemen's and gentlemen's houses, where there was a large one hung in the hall to hold over a lady or a gentleman, if it rained between the door and their carriage." His sister was compelled to quit his arm one day from the abuse he drew down on himself and his umbrella. But he adds, that "he persisted for three months till they took no further notice of this novelty. Foreigners began to use theirs, and then the English. Now it is become a great trade in London." This footman, if he does not arrogate too much to his own confidence, was the first man distinguished by carrying and using a silken umbrella. He is the founder of a most populous school. The state of our population might now in some degree be ascertained by the number of umbrellas.

_New Monthly Magazine._

* * * * *

GIPSIES.