?;v#':-*-*; -b W^r .^ • •m . . a . ' • ^•VvvJM&hA*-*' "s&> ♦a* ■»,<*•'•' •■*'.. » 'i*bV5. ' . • ' w* V»'r»'. V*-' *£ *» -A&- >b. ^ < . • * •( .4*' # , * "■*» a%> #& #1 •*?. TO har* *^P ■ • ■''•31 fc5 & •■*' ■rf* eLKV ^tstfWP -v -*«f n ft i-i'V NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE Bethesda, Maryland 0 \J>' Ah •k 4 * V I DOMESTIC MEDICINE, OR IK THE HOURS OF AFFLICTION, PAIN AND SICKNESS. THIS BOOK POINTS OUT, IN PLAIN LANGUAGE FREE FROM DOCTOR'S TERMS, THE DISEASES OF MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN, AND THE LATEST AND MOST APPROVED MEANS USED IN THEIR CURE, AND IS EXPRESSLY WRITTEN FOR THE BENEFIT OF FAMILIES, IN THE WESTERN AND SOUTHERN STATES. IT ALSO CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF TI1E MEDICINAL RCOTS AND HERBS OF THE WESTERN AND SOUTHERN COUNTRY, AND HOW THEY ARE TO BE USED rN THE CURE OF DISEASES; ARRANGED ON A NEW AND SIMPLE PLAN, BY WHICH THE PRACTICE OF MEDICINE IS REDU- CED TO PRINCIPLES OF COMMON SENSE. Why should we conceal from mankind, that which relieves the distresses of our fellow-beings? SIXTH EDITION. JOHNSTON & EDWARDS, Publishers. 1836. District of East Tennessee, Knoxvitte. Mxx*t BEIT REMEMBERED, That on the 24th day of 4jRfe& July in the 57th year of the Independence of the 3BMF United States of America, A. D. 1832, Doctor John ■^pl^ C. Gunn, of Knoxville, deposited in this Office, the title of a Book, the right whereof he claims as author, in the following words, to wit: "Gunn's domestic medicine, OTpoor man's friend,'m the hours of affliction, pain & sickness. This book points out, in plain language, free from Doctor's terms, the diseases of men^wo- men and children, and the latest and most approved mean9 used in their cure, and is expressly written for the benefit of Families, in the Western and Southern States. It also con- tains, descriptions of the Medicinal roots and herbs of the Western and Southern country, and how they are to be used in the cure of diseases:—Arranged on a new and simple plan, by which the practice of medicine is reduced to principles of common sense. Why should we conceal from mankind, That which relieves the distresses of our fellow beings?" In conformity to an act of the Congress of the United States, entitled "An act for the encouragement of Learning, by securing copies, of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Authors and Proprie- tors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned." WILLIAM C. MYNATT, Clerk of the United States' District Court, For the District of East Temitsste. INDEX. ANGER, - • 22 Cramp, 366 Ague and fever, 156 Constant desire to make Apoleptic fits, 269 water 367 Asthma, 277 Chills, - - ' - 393 Abortion, 373 Child-bed fever, 397 After pains, 394 Constipation, 416 Alum root, 452 Colic, 417 American columbo, 480 Convulsions or fits, 421 American senna, • - 485 Croup, 423 American ipecacuanha, 493 Cholera Infantum, &c. 427 American centaury, 502 Cancer root or beech drops ,465 Active purgatives, 539 Chamomile, 473 Anodynes, 546 Chinkapin, 474 Antispasmodics, 546 Castor oil & how to make it,513 Accidents, 560 Clysters or glysters, 522 Amputation, 591 Contusion or blow, 562 Amputation of the arm <^c .592 Concussion and compression " ofthe thigh, 594 ofthe brain, 564 " of the leg, 595 Contused wounds, 569 " of the fore arm, fin- Compound accidents, 590 gers and toes, 597 Cholera Epidemic, 605 BILIOUS FEVER, 160 DISEASESofthe LIVER, 208 Bone set, 469 Dysentery or flux, 233 Blackberry bush common, 472 Drinking cold water Button snake root, 472 when over-heated, 236 Blood or Puccoon root, 480 Dropsy, 240 Blood letting, 518 Diseases of women, 337 Butterfly weed or pleurisy JQifficult labor, 383 root, 495 Directions for midwives, 386 COLD BATH, 138 Directions after labor, 390 Colic, 169 Diseases of children, 405 Cholera morbus &c« 172 Dog wood, 449 Consumption, 190 Dittany, 463 Catarrh or cold, 228 Directions for preserving Cowpox.or vaccination, 294 roots #c. 515 Clap, 307 Dispensartory or classifica- Cancer, 328 tion of medicines, «535 Corns, 332 Dislocations, 585 Colic. 364 Dislocation ofthe lowerjaw,585 Dislocation of the collar bone and elbow, 586 " ofthe fingers& thigh,587 " of the knee pan, leg and foot, - 589 Directions for catheter, 598 Di rection for passing bougeis601 EXERCISE, 125 Eruptions of the skin, 258 Eating snuff, - 266 Epileptic fits. - 271 Ear ache, - 290 Exercise of children in pure air, - 412 Extract of garden lettuce, 510 Emetics or pukes, - 536 FEVER, 18 Food, - - 143 Fever & general remarks, 150 False pains, - 369 Flooding, - 370 Fever of children, 425 Fox glove, - - 474 Friction, - 529 Flannel, - 530 Female catheter, - 534 Fractures ofthe bones ofthe nose & lower jaw, 577 " ofthe collar bone, 578 " of the fore-arm & wrist,579 " ofthe ribs and thigh, 580 u of the bones ofthe foot 583 GRAVEL and STONE, 219 Great flow of urine, 255 Gleet, 317 Ginseng, 453 Ginger, 504 Grief, 44 HOPE, 20 Head-ache, 289 Heart-burn, 365 Hooping cough, 430 Hop, 473 Horse mint, 503 EX. INDIGESTION or Dsyp\m Intemperance, 86 I nflammation ofthe stomach,226 " of the intestines', 228 " of the brain, 230 " of the spleen. 231 " of the kidneys, 232 " of the bladder, 234 Itch, 265 Inflammations, 394 Inflammation of the breasl ,395 Ipecacuanha, 476 Indian Physic, 492 Indian turnip, 500 Issues, 531 Incised wounds, 566 JOY, 21 Jealousy, 38 Jam?stown weed, 443 Jerusalem oak, 462 Jalap, 497 LOVE, 38 Lax, 225 Locked jaw, 327 Labor, 377 Lochia, 392 Liverwort, 514 Laxative s - 541 MUMPS, 291 Menses or courses, 339 Milk fever, 396 Meconium, 409 Measles, 432 May apple, 464 Manna, 487 Male catheter, 533 Mercury, 554 Mortification, 597 NERVOUS FEVER, 164 OBSTRUCTED Menses, 342 Original imperfections, 410 Opium, 505 Ointments for sores, 552 INDEX. PASSIONS OF THE, Pulse, Pleurisy, Palsy, - - - Piles, Putrid sore throat, Pox, Poisons, 17 | Snuffles, 154 j Sore eyes, 216 Scald head, 274 281 283 306 318 Pain PI affections ofthe face, 324 354 Pregnancy, Pregnancy signs of, - i>i>7 Pregnancy cautions during, 359 Pregnancy diseases of, 260 Pain in the head & drow- ness, ... 363 Pile*, - - - Pink root of Carolinia, Pennyroyal, Poplar, 450 4e3 466 Seneka snake root, Sassafras, Sarsaparilla, Slippery elm, Spice wood, Sage, Senna, Sulphurous sulphur bath, Stimulants, Sudorifics, Swaim's Panacea, Sprains, Scarlet fever, 41". 419 426 438 411 441 461 468 4711 18:: fumigation or 516 Ml 550 555 316 602 TETTER or Ringworm, 260 Tooth-ache, - - 262 384 Prick 1} ash or toothache tree ,4991 Tw i ns, Peppermint, - - 5031 Treatment of new-born Peach tree, - - 512 Punctured wounds, - 508 RELIGION, - - 63 Remarks preliminary &c, 112 Rheumatism, Red gum, Rue & Balm, Rhubarb, SLEEP, Scurvy, Suppression or stoppage of Infants, - 407 Teething - - 419 Tobacco plant, - - 454 Topical bleeding, - 520 Tonics, - - 547 -414 UVAURSI, - 458 479 J V ENERE A L DISEASES 29G 489 WARM or TEPID BATH 131 119! Whitlow, 2441 Warts, Whiles, urine, - Saint Anthony's fire, Scald head, Sore legs, Sore e) es, Small pox, Scalds and burns, Sickness ofthe stomach, Swelled legs, Stoppage of urine, Swelled leg, Still born, 254 Want of sleep, 259 Worms, . 261 White walnut, - - 2791 Wild cherry tree, 2851 Wounds, 296 Wounds of the scalp, ear, 330 nose, &c. 362 " of the chest, 379 " of the belly, 367 " of the joints, 397 " of the tendons, 406 YELLOW GUM, 292 333 351 368 433 488 501 565 573 574 574 575 575 414 A INTRODUCTION. Man, in the early day&of nature, lived in a state of health, both in body and in mind. The earth produ- ced its fruits for him without culture; there were neither irregularities nor inclemencies of the seasons. In a state of innocency, and under a mild and clement sky, there was nothing to produce disease; spring was per- petual.—Protected by the immediate presence of the Almighty, and as yet innocent of any violations of his law, he was happy in the enjoyments which the spontaneous benevolence of nature afforded him. But he has been the artificer of his own untoward distinties. He has transgressed the sacred laws of his Creatou— and incured the penalties annexed to his own transmis- sions! _ His days are now shortened, and encumbered with disease; spring is no longer perpetual; for him now, "the earth brings forth thorns and briers;" and for him the world has been visited with earthquakes, sterility, storms, and variations of the seasons, which blight the fruits of his labours, and bring mortal diseases and fatal maladies on their wings. Among the moral causes that have abridged the life of man, there is one which merits the attention ofthe phi- losopher—it is civilization! Civilization, by polish- ing man, and depriving him of his primitive rudeness, seems to have enervated him:—it seems to have mada him purchase the advantage, at the expense of a multitude of diseases and miseries to which the first inhabitants of the world were strangers—and with which the savages who only give way to the impulses of nature are still unacquainted. Man, in associating with his fellow-beings in large assemblages, seems in some measures to have relaxed the strong ties on Ma \ 111 INTRODUCTION. earthly existence; society, by extending the circle of his wants, by giving greater energy to his passions, and by generating those that are unknown to the man of nature, seems to have become a frightful and inex- haustable source of calamities. But was not man born for society; did not his individual weakness, and his severe and pressing wants, make him abandon, at an early period, the wandering life he had led in the forest in pursuit of game—and associate with his fellow man? Could he not by associating with his fellow be- ings, the better protect his exisience, secure his happi- ness, and expand his truly astonishing faculties?—There exists no country, which men ;uv not found in asocial state; this is the case even in the most remote and fright- ful solitudes, from the Arabian deserts to the Polar regions. But cannot the social ties of men be drawn too clo^e? Witness our large and opulent cities, where the population is immense, and where assem- bl m! multitudes seem 'to be crowded on each other; where althou^yi th? comfurts and luxuries of life are to be found in ab:i::t physical and moral depra- vity, always the consequences of such enormous accu- mulations of people? When mini first united, it was in small bodies; and they passed their days in innocence and simplicity. We should not then be astonished if they were robust, and if they then arrived to a great age. They were ex- empt from the greater part of the diseases which affect us, because they had none but natural wants, which they could satisfy without excess. The beverage of nature quenched their thirst without the aid of spiritu- ous liquors, and the friendly hand of nature give them sustenance; but, in proportion to the increase of asso- ciations, they generated a multitude of fictitious wants, which continually torment us their offspring, and ren- rNTRODtrCTXN. IX der us unhappy; whence, instead of those simple foods which always prolonged life, man has the poi- sons of every chemical and foreign luxury served upon his table: and what are the results? Why—prema- turely borne down with infirmities, and de\omed with remorse, he dies disgusted and exhausted with excess- es reflecting on innocent nature, whom he has outraged! The greatest number of diseases and infirmities are of our own begetting; because we have infringed, the heal- thy laws of nature. Fifteen out of twuby cases of sickness, are produced by ourselves; it is by luxury and scandalous excess, that we render our existence unhappy, and abridge its length. Man is a creatine ( f habit; urged on by the propen- sity of his natn: ■: he not only abri.-ges t'he period of his life, '»*it in'Has on himself the displeasure of his Creator. T.ie rising morn, the radiert noon, ihe shad- owy eve, all tell him ts they pass, that his temporal exigence i* slu-rb hi- advance to eternhy rapid! Wiien we view man in all his beasin^ and depen- dencies, we fib:!, and the profonn iest philosophers have done no mure, that he is invo'ved in mystery. The greatest philosophers have only discovered that (hey live: but from whence they ca'.w, and whither they are gom--, are by nature altog^t >n hidden; that impenetrable ^!.u> p. surrounds us on every sub, and that we can *>eek a Revelation alone, the on y source nf comfort and explanation. The seasons are a mem- ento of iife: Sprit:?*. t»reathing into lif the newborn flowers: Simmer, uith his genial warmth, ripening his lusii his fruits: Aattunn. with her go'den harvest, bestowing plenty on man: and Winter, with icy mantle, bounding the mpieim of the departe ' seasons. First comes creeping i ifincy; next me \v it y hood and aspiring y<«.»th; then, resolute and Indus rious man- liood; and last of all, decripid, co'd, and declining age; embh untie of the winter of existence, the short- ness of human life. Behold the changes that have taken place in Tennes- A* X Introduction. see, and in the whole western country, within the laps of a few short years! Look for the wigwam of the poor Indian, who was once lord of the soil you now possess: it is gone, and his bones mingle with the dust of his habitation. The storm of enterprizing civ- ilization has wrecked its fury on the poor Indian; his land has passed into the hands of the white man; whose splendid mansion now rests on the graves of his ancestors. His peaceful forests once the abodes of solitude and savage life, in which he unmolested traced his game, now resound with the festivities of civilization, and the business hum of labor. Those innocent and forlorn people, who received our forefa- thers in the spirit of friendship, instead of being fos- tered by the genial hand of civilization, have been .driven to the feet of the Rocky or Oregon mountains, and present a sad and solitary spectacle of their former greatness! In a few more years, the race of the poor Indian will be forever extinguished, and his council fires blaze no more: the wilderness has been subdued, and the hous^ of God has been built, where once ascen- ded the smoke of warlike and isolations sacrifice; cultivated fields and gardens extend over a thousand valleys in the west, never before since the creation reclaimed to the use of civilized man; in the enjoy- ment of civil and religious liberty, insituations of learn- ing are hourly springing forth, diffusing the light of knowledge, and establishing the enjoyments & happi- ness of the western world. A few years since; even within the memory of many of the present inhabitants, this immense region was a perfect wilderness: the dar- kened intellect of the savage knew God but in the winds and thnnders; on every side, the dark foliage of the shadowy forest waved in the silent majesty of nature, and her noble rivers moved on in silence; with no more commerce than the peltry of the hunter savage. Most of these rivers are now navigated by steamers, affording the quickest facility of transportation, and the.most lucrative commerce; gupplying the remote inte- INTRODUCTION. ii rior of our country with the rich products of every for- eign climate; our public rodes are covered every year with the advance guard of civilization, and demonstrate what must in a short period be the result, under our wise equitable and political constitutions of government. The tree of peace spreads its broad branches from the Atlan- tic to the Pacific; a thousand villages are reflected from the waves of a most every lake and river; and the west now echoes with the son- of the reaper, until the wil- derness and "the solitary place has been glad for us, and the desert has rejoiced and blossomed as the rose." —God in the infinitude of his mercy, has stored our mountains, fields and, meadows, with'simi les for heal- ing our diseases, and for furnishing us with medicines of our own, without the use of foreign article*; and the discoveries of each succeeding day convinces us, that He has graciously furnished man with the means' of curing his own diseases, in all the different countries and climates of which he, is an inhabitant. Tnere is not a day, a month, a year, which dues not exhibit to us the surprising cures made by roots, herbs and sim- ples, found in our kingdom of nature, when all foreign articles, have utter y failed; and the day will come, when calomel and mercurial medicines wiil be used no long- er, and when we will be independent of foreign med- icines, which are often difficult to be obtained, frequent- ly adulterated, and always command a price which the po >r are unable to pay. The yet uncultivated wilds of our country, abound in herbs and plants, possessing medical virtues, and probably thousands of them, whose virtues and qualities remain unknown. The travels of Lewis and Clarke, led to the high ex- pectations, in every branch of science; the observations and inquiries of these gentlemen, particularly of Lewis, were directed, among other -things, to the diseases and medical remedies of our Indians; and they have given a large portion of interesting information on these points. Much, however, is left to be done by the wisdom of our legislative bodies on these points, xh INTRODUCTION. for the time is rapidly approaching, when the beauti- ful temple of medical science, will stand divested of ail quackeries and superstition*, and its re-builders be rewarded by the blessings, the gratitude and the ad- miration of mankind. Professional pride, and native cupidity, contrary to the true spirit of justice and Christianity, have, in all ages and countries, from sentiments of self interest and want of liberty, delighted in concealing the divine art of healing disease, under complicated names, and difficult or unmeaning technical phrases. Why make a mystery of things, which relieve the diseases aud sufferings of our fellow being-? Let it be dis- tinctly understood, when 1 speak of professional pride and avarice, that I do not intend .to cast an imputa- tion on all my profession, for want of heaven born principles, charity to our feiiow beings. On the con- trary, we are furnished by. history, witii many promi- nent, examples of this divine 'form of humanity. Hippocrates, dispensed htalth and joy wherever he went, and often yielded to the solicitations of neighbor- ing princes, and extended the blessings of,his skill to forei.au nations. Tne. great Dnerhaave did a great deal for the poor, and always discovered more solicitude and punctuality, in his attendance on them, than on the rich and powerful:—on being asked his reason for this, he promptly replied—"Gad is their paymaster."— Heberden's liberality to the poor was so great, that he was oncetcl i by a friend, he \vould exhaust his fortune: "no," said he,"I am afraid that after all my charities, I shall die shamefully rich." Fothergil once heard of the death of a citizen of London, who had left his family in indigent circumstances:—the doc- tor immediately called on the widow, and informed her he had received thirty guineas from her husband, while he was in prosperous circumstances, for as ma- ny visits; I have heard of his reverse of fortune— take this purse—which contains all I received—it will do thy family more good than it will do me." Sim- INTRODUCTION. Till ilar occurrences of the liberality of this great and good man, might be almost given without end, in- deed it is said, that he gave away one half of the income of his extensive and profitable business, to the needy & afflicted, amounting in the course of his life, to more than one hundred thousand pounds. What an imraeuse interest, in celestial happiness, must this sum not pro- duce at the great day of accounts—thegeneralJudgment. With what unspeakable gratitude and delight, may we not suppose the many hundreds—perhaps thousands, whom'he has fed, clothed, and relieved in sickness, by his charities, will gaze on their benefactor in that solemn day, while the Supreme Judge credits those acts as done to himself, in the presence of an assembled Universe! Iiutjthese good ai d great men, having gone where we must all shortly follow—and are now receiving their rich reward of all their virtues, in that kingdom where pain and affliction cease. When we trace the power* of human intellect, and the monuments of human great- ness, ami all that genius has instituted and labor accom- plished; when we trace these things through all their grades of advancement and decline—where is the pride? of man? Uehold in each successive moment, the monuments of the rich, the great and the powerful— tumbling into their native dust—and the hand of time mingle the proud man's ashes with those of the minial slave, so that their posterity cannot distinguish them from each other! When the sable curtain of death i* drawn, where is the bright intellect of genius—and where are those who have loved and honored? At the tli res hold of eternity, reason leaves us and we sink, not- withstanding all our precautions, and the aid of distin- guished physicians. Yet such is the course of nature, «hat those who live long, must outlive those they lovo and honor. Such, indeed, is the course of nature, and I he condition of our present existence, life must sooner or later lose its associations, and those who remain a little longer, be doomed to walk downward to the grave XIV INTRODUCTION. tdone & unregarded, without a single interested witness of their joys or griefs! It is evident that the decays of age must terminate in death;—yet where is the man who does not believe he way survive another year? Piety towards God, should characterize every one who has any thing to do with the administering of med- icine; nor should any individual ever administer med- icine, without first imploring the Almighty for success on his prescriptions—for where is the man, who can anticipate success, without the aid k blessing of heav- en? Galen vanquished atheism, for a considerable time, by proving the existence of a Gad, from the wise and curious structure of the human body. Botallus, the Illustrious father of blood letting in Europe, ear- ue.stly^dvises a physici.an never to leave his House, without preferiug a prayer to God to aid and enlighten him. Cheselden, the famous English anatomist, always implored the aid and blessing of heaven on his hand, whenever he laid hold of an instrument to perform a surgical operation. Sydenham, the great Luminary and reformer of medicine, was a religious man; and, Boerhaave spent an hour every morning in his clos- et, in reading and commenting on the scriptures be- fore he entered on the duties of his profession. Hoff- man and Stahl, were not ashamed of the gospel of Christ; and, Waller has left behind him, a most eloquent defence of its doctrines. Doctor Kothergill's long iiiV, resembled an alter from which inseuce of adoration and praise ascended daily to heaven; and Hartley, whose works will probably only perish with timeiUelf, was a devoute christian. ' To this record of the great medical men, I shall add but one remark— which is, that the authoritative weight of their names alone, infavor ofthe truth of revealed religion, is suffi- cient to turn the scale against all the infidelity that has ever disgraced the science of medicine since its ear- liest discoveries. I have seen the flower of life fade, and all its fresh- ness wither; I have seen the bright eye of beauty lose its INTRODUCTION. XV lustre; and my last and best friends, close their eyes in the cold and traquil slumbers of death—and have said, "where are the boasted powers of medicine, the pride of skill, the vain boasts of science?"—How humilia- ting to the pride of man! > Let every physician put this solemn question to himself:—what will avail all the means I can use, without the aid of the Almighty?— All efforts, founded on years of experience and study, vanish at the touch of death: and, the hold on life pro- fessed by the physician, is brittle and slender as that possessed by his patient:—the next moment may be his, and those remedies so often used with success in the cases of others, will assuredly fail him in his ^own case at last. In some, unexpected moment, a wave in the agitated sea of life will baffle all his struggles; and he, in his turn w 11 be compelled to pay th&i. debt, which na- ture his claimed from thousands of his patients.—When on the couch of death, and whilst perusing the works of Rousseau, the las-t wards ofthe great Napoleon were, in the language of that author—"it is vain to shrink from what cariiwt be avoided: why hide that from our-elves, which mii't at some period be found; the certainty of death, is a truth which man knows—but which he wil- lingly conceal-; from himself."—We shall all shortly finish our al otted time on earth, if even unusually pro- longed, leaving behind us all that U now familiar and beloved. Numerous races of men wi I succeed us, en- tirely ignorant that we once lived, and who wi 1 retain of our existence, not even the vestage of a vague and empty remembrance! k OF THE PASSIONS. All the passions of man, seem to have been bestowed on him by an all wis Creator, for wise and beneficent purposes; and it is certainly the province of human wis- dom, to keep them under due regulation. In a moral point of view, when the passions run counter to reason and religion, nationnlly and individually they produce the most frightful catastrophes. Among nations, if suffered to transcend the bounds of political justice, they always lead to anarchy, war, misrule and oppres- sion: and among individuals, do we not easily trace the same dreadful and disasterous consequences? With monarchial and despotic governments, we frequently see the unruly and ungoverned passions of one man, de- stroying and laying waste, whole empires in a single campaign: and with democratical or republican insti- tutions of government, have we not frequently witnessed the terrific consequences, to moral and political justice, which arise from the disorganizing and turbulent pas- sions of the sovkreiun people. Individually, and nationally, then, the consequences of misdirected and uncontroled passion are precisely the same, as regards every thing connected with political, legislative, and moral justice. But, as it is not my intention to enter into a disserta- tion on the passions, further than they relate to man as an individual, and to their influences on the state of his physical system, I will first observe, that it is of the very highest importance, to the healthy action of the human system, that the passions should be held in due subjection. If you give away to the passions, you de- stroy the finest of the vital powers; you destroy diges- tion and assimilation; you weaken the strength and 1$ gunn's domestic medicine. energies of the heart, and of the whole nervous system. The stomach is the workshop of the whole human frame, and all its derangements are immediately felt in the extremities: and to prove how strongly the connexion exists, between the stomach and the heart, the latter immediately ceases to beat, when the powers of the for- mer sink and are destroyed. Distress of mind is al- ways a predisposing cause of disease; while on the other hand, a calm and contented disposition, and a proper command over our passions and affections, are certain to produce consequences which operate against all predisposing causes of disease. Any complaint arising from great agitation ol mind, is more obstinate than any occasioned by violated corporeal agitations.— For instance, eating and drinking, and particularly in the case of drinking, disease may be combatted by rest, sleep and temperance', but neither temperince, rest, nor even sleep it>elf, as everyone knows, can much affect those diseases which have their s?eat in the pas- sions ofthe mind. T shall not enter into the subject of the passions at full length. FEAR. Fear is a base passion, and beneath the dignity of man. It takes from him reflection, power, resolution and judgement; and in short, all that dignity and great- ness of soul, which properly appertain to humanity. It has great influence in occasioning, aggravating and pro- ducing disease. It has been a matter of much specula- tion with me, whether any man is born constitutionally a coward;—and my decided opinion is, that cowar- dice and courage are generally the effects of habit and moral influence * I have frequently seen brave men, * Immediately perceding the great battle of Water- loo, on which were about to be suspended the great polit- gunn's domestic medicine. 19 acknowledged to be such on great and important occa- sions during the late war, who trembled at the mere approach of danger, and acknowledged their want of firmness. The great Duke of Marlboro* was once seen to tremble on the eve of battle; being asked by a sol- dier the cause of it, the Duke made tiie following reply —"my body trembles at the danger ny tsoul is about exposing it to!" And does it not appear surprisingly singulai,but no less true, that a man shall he one day v brave and the next day a coward. That there is a close affinity between the condition of the physical system and the passion- .there can he little doubt; the same man who under the iniiuence of opium, would brave danger in its most giant form, is seen to shrink like a fliv? military d"stinips of Europe, Napoleon employed a gtiid.r whn was well acquainte/l, with the counter, to acco?npa»y him in reconnoitering the field of he:!tie, and the relative positions of the hostile armies. Allien the battle commenced, his ^feasant guide, who had never before been exposed to the tumultuous sitock, of hostile armies, manifested stromr and decided indications of ' * ' 4 1 fear—b'/ dodging fro-n side to side at. the sound of ttie shn, Napolmn nhiervdit, and taxed him with emeu: dice which he aclcnoud<>dgi>d. He then v. asoned with him on the absurd if if of his conduct. "Do ipju not know," said he. "'that there is a power infinitily superior to man, who rules and govern* all, and udio holds in his hand all our destinies! If this be true, of which there can be no doubt, you cannot die until rour time arrives; -why then dodge the sound of a ball: tchen youhear it, it has passed you: and besides, when dodging the mere sound of one shot, you may throw yourself in the way of ano- ther." This reasoning had the effect; it banished all suggestions of fear, and the yiude afterwards rode erect and steady, and manifested no indications of fear. I mention this circumstance, to shoiv how much ice are under the influence of morel power, or the force of rea- son, respecting both cowardice and courage. 20 gunn's domestic medicine. sensitive plant, when deprived of that influence. There seems to be a reciprocal exercise of influence between the body and the mind, which by man is absolutely inexplicable; but of this we are certain, that cowardice disorders and impedes the circulation of the blood; hinders breathing with freedom; puts the stomach out of order, as well as the bowels; affects the kidneys and skin, and produces bad effects on the whole body—and it may be for these and similar reasons, that the undents elevated courage into a moral virtue. Many persons have fallen flown dead, from the influence of cowardice or fear; and can it then be doubtful, that this passion has much influence in producing and modifying disea- ses- I feei assured from practical experience, that in disorders that are epidemical or catching, the timid, cowardly and fearful, take them much oftener than those who are remarkable for fortitude and courage. Napoleon was so well convinced of these facts, that when his army of Egypt was suffering dreadfully from the ravages ofthe plague, in order to inspire liis sol- diers with courage, and to ward off those darners which might arise from the fears of his army, frequent- ly touched the bodies of those infected, with his own hands Fear weakens the energy or strength of the heart, and of the whole nervous system; the infectious matter his greater power on the frame at this time— consequently the system being deranged, loses its heal- thy action, and cannot resist and throw off the epidem- ical disease. HOPE. Hope! what a source of iiuman happiness rests in the pleasures of hope. Man cherishes it to his very tomb Take from him hope, and life itself would be a burthen"' How wisely has our heavenly father blended in our cup of misery, soft whispers of our future exemption gunn's domestic vedicine. 21 from its influence. Without hope, how wretched, how miserable our existence; what a powerful effect it ha«, when laboring under pain and bodily disorder! It raises the spirits; it increases the action and power of the heart, and nervous system, moderates the pulse, causes the breathing to be fuller and freer—and quick- ens all the secretions. It is therefore proper and advi- sable, in all disorders, to produce hope in the mind, if you wish to have any chanc to effect a cure. Is there a being who lives without this balm of consolation, this hope, of heavenly birth, which tells of happier days in bright anticipation! If such are the advantages of hope, as to the things of this field of thorns and briers—this vale of tears—what may we expect from that emotion, when it embraces the certainty of enjoying felicity with (rod in eternity. When inordinary health and engaged in the pursuits of 1 fe, hope is attended with many favorable effects fr,)m a fortunate event, without possessing physicial dis- advantages; the anticipation of happiness does not effect us so excessively as the actual enjoyment; yet it has frequently produced more benefit by its influence on health, than fortune realized. JOY. Tins is a beneficent passion: it produces an extraor- dinary effect, and is of infinite benefit to the constitution, when indulged in modetation; hut, if it should be excessive, or very sudden, it frequently does serious and lasting injury to persons in good health; and to those who.are weak, or afflicted with disease, it sometimes terminates fatally. The followingfcinstance of the mel- ancholy effects of the too sudden influence of joy, will fully exemplify the power of this passion on the'phys- ical system, even when in health. It may be relied on, as it came very nearly under my own observation. A B* 22 gunn's domestic medicine. gentleman in the State of Virginia, who had once been very wealthy, but whose pecuniary circumstances had become much depressed, not to say desperate, as a last hope of redeeming himself and his family from distres- sing embarrassment, purchased a lottery ticket, for which he gave the last hundred dollars he could com- mand. The purchase was made, under a presentiment, if such it may be called, that a certain number would draw the highest prize. All his property was then under execution. When the day of sale arrived, his father-in law and himself took a walk into the fields, leaving his family much distressed with their misfor- tunes. A gentleman on horseback immediately from Richmond, rode up to the house and asked, for Mr. B----, and was directed by his wife where he would be found.' When the gentleman rode up to Mr B----, without exercising the least precaution, he announced the fact that the ticket had drawn one hundred thousand dollar-! The effect was such as might have been expect- ed; Air. B----, immediately fainted, and was with munh difficulty and after many exertions, restored.—In the circumstance I havejust related, the great influence of this passion will easily be seen: and 1 trust it will be as distinctly inferred from it, that excesses of joy are frequently as dangerous to the constitution of human- ity, as those of grief, if not more so. 1 need scarcely remark here, that to persons laboring under disease, as well as to those in merely delicate health, joyful intelli- gence ought always to be communicated with much caution. ANGER. "Next anger rushed—his eyes on fire!"__Of this most dreadful ofthe human passions, had I sufficient space to allot it, much might lie said that woujd be of high importance. There is no passion incidental to gunk's domestic medicine. 23 humanity, an indulgence in which leads to so many dreadful, not to say horrid and frightful consequences: "To count them all would want a thousand tongues— ".ithroat of Brass, and Adamantine lungs." 1 have before remarked, that all our passions were intended by the God of nature, if kept under the control of reasons and humanity, to be beneficial to the happi- ness of man. This position is demonstrable by reason, and sanctioned by the highest autority—the word of God \\wxisa\f"who never made any thing in vain.- It is not the application of our passions to their natural, reasonable, and legitimate object*, that constitutes crime, and ends in misery and misfortune: No—it is the abuse of those passions unrestrained and intemperate indul- gence—and the prostitution of them to ignoble and dis- graceful purposes! VVas a noble spirit of resentment, for unprovoked and wanton injuries, ever intended by the God of nature, to degenerate into senseless anger and brutal rage? V noble spirit of resentment, upon the strictest moral principles, was intended to punished wan- ton and unprovoked aggression, and by preventing a repetition of the deed, to reform the offender. 1 am perfectly aware that 1 here occupy a new, but by no means an untenable ground. Was the passion of Love, the refined solacer of civilized life; the harbinger of successful procreative. power; the nurse which ushers into life successive millions ofthe human rsce, ever intended by the God of nature to degenerate into brutal lust; and to be followed by a train of venereal diseases which cankers life at its very core (inm\ visits the iniqui- ties of the father*, upon the children to the third and fourth generations?" Was the deep seated and natural sentiment of self preservation, that essential safe- guard of man in every stage of his moral existence, ever intended to degenerate into that childish, superstitious, base, and ignoble passion called Fear? Was the eleva- ting and enobling passion of emulation, that only seeks to rival superior excellence, so honorable to the pride of man and so consonant to the native dignity of his soul, 24 gunk's domestic medicine. ever intended to degenerate into a dastardly passion of envy, which seeks to destroy by slander and defama- tion, the excellence it has not the honest virtue even to attempt io rival? Those who blindly decry the legiti- mate gratification of the human passions, although they may do so from what to them seems the best of motives, ought to be aware that they do not arraign the wisdom of providence, for implanting them into the human bosom; and they ought also in all cases, to avoid con- founding the natural and legitimate uses of the passions, with the abuses of their lofty and powerful energies, The passions, confined to their native object, and as I have said before, kept in due subjection to the restraints of reason and moderation' are essential to the enjoy- ments, the preservation, and the happines of man; they only become dangerous and criminal, when permitted to produce misrule in the human breast, and are placed beyond the arbitrium and control of'moral virtue, which is the true science of human wisdom. I remarked in the outset, that there was no passion known to humanity, an unrestrained indulgence in which was so fatal in its consequences to the peace of society, and the happiness of man, as Avuer. This deformer ofthe human countenance and character, is every where to be found; and its ravages seem coextensive with its existence: in other words, it seems to live through all human life, and to extend through the whole extent of human society. It is even sometimes seen to wrinkle and deform the maiden cheek of youthful beauty with a frown! But do not my fair country women know, that the pas- sions never fail to leave their impress on the counte- nance, and that habitual anger will renderr them more disgusting .than the witch of End or? They may be assured, and my remarks are not founded on cursory and superficial observation, that the more of native beauty there is to be found in the female countenance the more easily will it be deformed by the vicious pas- lions, and particularly by that demon Anger. Th« gunn's domestic medicine. 25 female countenance is more expressive ofthe finer, soft- er, and more amiable passions than that of man; in other words the female face seems to be formed from finer materials, and to have been cast in a finer mould, and it is from these causes, that the female face is more expressive of the moral feelings, and sooner betrays indi- cations, of a depraved and vicious temper. The stern countenance of .man, can assume and maintain a fixture of expression, under any circumstances; s»nd it is the consciousness of this power, that frequently tempts him to play the hypocrite and deluder:—for were he con- scious that his face would always betray the emotions of his soul, he would never even attempt to deceive! To the practiced eye of philosophic*I research and rigid scrutiny, no expression ofthe human countenance ever parses unobserved. To such an eye all the wiles of the human heart stand unrevealed; nor can any subterfuge of counterfeit expression conceal the reality from its observation. The Scripture itself sanctions this doc- trine, '••! man shall be known by his look—and a proud man by his gait." If my fair countrywomen would re- fleet well on the doctrine I have just laid down, they would always cultivate the softer and more benevolent feelings of the heart: and always endeavor to be in re- ality, what they would wish to appear; for they may re- ceive it as a valuable truth, not to be controverted by any of the artifices of self deception, that I hey were nev- er formed by the God of nature for deception and hy. pocrisy; and that the purity and elevation of theii moral feelings, or the corruptions and depravity of their real characters are as easily distinguished from each other, as is the surface of the ocean in a settled calm, from that same ocean, when lashed into mountain billows by the winds of Heaven. Do we not see the ravages of this moral curse called anger, in every department of society? We see it beneath the domestic roof, embittering the enjoyments of the rich and poor; laying waste the harmonious sanctity of connubial life, aud often entailing misery and mis for- 26 gunn's domestic medicine. tune on a helpless and unoffending offspring. But this is not all. We see it manifesting itself in its most horrid forms, in our halls of legislation; in our seats of legal justice; and even in our elections, in which every man ought to be permitted to act w ith perfect freedom, and without the least accountahiiity to another . In all our electioneering conflicts, atlea.st of late years, we can see the old and disg aceful maxim revived and fully acted on:—uthose who are not for us are against us:"—as if a man could not exercise aright of selection, and prefer one man to another, without forfeiting the friendship, and incurring the enmity of all the opposite parties. If we Would reflect correctly on this subject, we would soon discover, that personal friendship and personal enmity, ought to have nothing to do with the matter; we would soon distinguish that a real statesman, or an enlightened legislator, ought to he the mere tool, for factional purpo- ses, of no party whatever. The noble and devoted patriotism, which gave birth to our truly great politicial institutions, emphatically forbids, that the American people should ever sacrifice to the narrow views of party spirit, what was destined by the God of nature, for the benefit of the, human ra<.e\ This government presents to Europe, a spectacle of no ordinary character; in which their statesmen **ead the future destinies of man, and the political fate of nations. We are the only peo- ple of any age or country, who have organized a liuly representative government, w hose experiments in legisla- tion—diplomacy and arms. are to settle the important question yet undecided, whether the mass of mankind can bear the wide toleration* of political freedom: and whether man, under any circumslances, is capable of assuming and exercising the high prerogative of self government! For what a stake, ihen, against all the monarchies and despotisms of Europe and Asia, are the people and this government contending; a stake, as I before remarked, in which the whole human race are interested! Before this view ofthe subject, my reader, how do our party squabbles and brawls at elections, gunn's domestic medicine. 27 Dwindle down to nothing; to less than nothingl God forbid that I should ever seem to turn censor to the age: or assume a dictatorial tone, even in the cause of truth and moderation. I have been lead into a slight notice of the preceding subjects, by tin ir strong connexion with the moral condition of man, and his too frequent sub- jection to the ravages of a most devastating and I had almost said, a most damnable passion, which it seems is scarcely controlable, by all the energies of reason and moral sentiment combined. Anger was never yet an evidence of justice, a proof of virtue, or a demon- stration of superior intellect; a mind of elevated endow- ments, will always endeavor to correct its sanguinary impulses and to expel its iniiuence. The man of cool reflection, sees in its unrestrained dominion, a thousand evils which escape common observation. He sees that it frequently fills our piisons with delinquents; that it is sometimes the cause of endless remorse: and that it often loads the gallows with a meliiicholy victim! To speak of other than moral and religious remedies, for this dreadful malady, would be idle ami nugatory. I might tell you as a physician, to deluge your heads with water as cold as the snows of Zembla; I might tell you to open every vain in your bodies to calm the raging and ungovernable impulses of anger; I might tell you that an emetic would curb tlw tumultuois fever of rage, and restore you to yourselves: all these reme- dies would produce but a temporary cure; they would be but clipping the tw iggs from the bohon upas, and leaving the root untouched! The only sovereign power or remedies, if you please, which ean be efficient in correcting the evils of anger, must.be sought for in early education, and in moral and religious principles, instil- led into the mind at an early period of life. 28 gunn'b domestic medicine. JEALOUSY. This is a passion, the causes of which have seldom been investigated, although the effects of it are every where to be found. The causes of it have generally something to do with love; but not always. The cox- comb and coquette, both of whom are incapable of genuine love, may be powerfully affected by jealousy^ ye< in both these cases the lady and gentleman have only experienced a slight mortification of their vanity, and love of general admiration. The wound here is not deep, and is generally healed by the consolatory admiration of some other jilt or jackpudding, as the case may be. I am not going to speak of the jealousy ofthe warrior, which is sanguinary and daring; of that ofthe diplomatist, which is public, cunning and circum- ventive; or of that of the statesman, which is embitter- ed by spectres and phantoms of future glory!—Nor will I trouble myself with noticing the jealousy of the poet, which is harmless, though vindictive; of the historian, which is long winded and untireingin the pursuitof fame; or of the philosopher and man of general science, which is learnedly dull and heavily investigative, in the pur- suit of truths which eternally elude human researches! I shall confine myself to the single suhject, of that jeal- ousy which sometimes subsists between husband and wife, and which generally renders both the objects of public curiosity, compassion, or contempt. Marriages are contracted upon various principles; such as the love ol person, the love of fame, the love o"m ne\,&c. So soen as the rires and ceremonies of mar- riage are duly solemnized, and rendered matter of legal record, the parties individually acquire, certain rights and privileges, of which it is a breach of the municipal law to deprive them, as well as a violation of the law of God. If the love of money induced (he lady to marry the gentleman, or the gentleman the lady, any deviation of conduct, however indecent or immoral on the one part, ought never to be complained ofron the other, OP THE PASSIONS. 29 provided the true intent and meaning of the compact be compiled with, in relation to the cash itselp The same doctrines apply, in the case of a marriage con- tracted on any other principles. If the fame of either of the parties, induces the other to enter into the mar- riage bonds, and there be no other stipulation expressed or implied, infidelity to the nuptial bed, profligacy of conduct, and even the most indecent deviations from mural rectitude, ought never to make a breach between the parties; the tenor and spirit of the compact being complied with, there is nothing more to be said. Nor would there be in nine cases out of ten, if married per- sons who are induced to captiousness and disagreement, would only be particular in calling to the mincf, the real motives which o; crated in inducing them to marry. If the mere love of person, without any considerations; relating to temper, moral excellence, and intellectual elevation of character, was the leading principle which induced the parties to bear the yoke of life together, surely neither of them have a right to complain^of the want of excellencies, which were over looked, disregard- ed and absolutely undervalued in the stipulations of the compact. I think this reasoning is fair; and abso- lutely tpo logical to be refuted: and, as I intend this hookas a. family museum of useful instruction and advice, I trust that what I have so far said on the sub- ject of jealousy and other causes of domestic discontent, will have its due weight. What right have parties who have been improperly matched, or rather those who have improperly matched themselves, to disturb the peace of whole neighborhoods and communities, with their winnings, scoldings, ana* recriminations of each other? Will these proceedings benefit the parties themselves? Will these bickerings and brawls, divorce them from each other? Will their domestic disagree- m.'nb, VM\ tiieir "fistcuff combats," if they should :nopentobe.so far advanced in the (sweets ofconn vit- al love, ' reflect any respectability or honor, on their innoceiU and unoffending offspring? Will their neigh- 30 OF THE PASSIONS. bors endeavor to compose their strifes' and hush them into peace with a soothing lullaby? No: they will in ten cases out of eleven, be gratified at finding out, that there are others more miserable than themselves; and do every thing they possibly can, to inflame the contest, by taking sides. Some will take the part of the hus- band; these are generally the gentlemen of the little body politic; some will take the'part of the wife; theso are generally the lady-peacemakers ofthe neighborhood; and before six months pass round, the whole country will be roused to a war of words—and resemble "a puddle in a storm." 8£c. 8£c. But, to conclude the subject on this species of jeal- ousy, with as much seriousness as it seems to deserve; it may be remarked that the passion is generally found- ed on the tales and hints of servents, the surmises of tale-bearing gossips, and the malignant innuendoes of those who delight in the diffusion of slander and defa- mation. There is a class of people in all societies* who are seriously afflicted with a disease called by phy- sicians, "cacoeihes loquindi." It is a disease that is generated between ignorance, petty malignity, and rest- lessness of tongue, which forbids the repose of society: in Engl is. h, it is the "disease of talking." These peo- ple have considerable powers of invention; but, from their ignorance of the common topics of enlightened and manly conversation, they seem to be absolutely compelled to lie their way intonoticel The education of these people, commences at an early period ©f life. When very young, just perhaps able to go on an errand to a neighboring house, they are immediately asked on their return home, as to every thing they saw or heard there; their answers are such as might be expected, a mixture of truths and lies. Finding at length that their parents are interested in such tales—they commence with telling fibs—and end, confirmed and ?nalignant liarsl Parents, this is especially addressed to you; it is worthy of your most serious consideration. But, there is a species of jealousy, of a most malig- OF THE PASSIONS. 31 irant and terrible character, such as that delineated by Shakespear in his Moor of Venice, which sometimes takes possesion of the human bosom, and shakes the throne of reason to its very centre. This passion, or rather this insanity, seems to me to be founded on almost speechless and unbounded love; a love bordering on absolute veneration and idolatry. This is an abstruse and intricate subject, and I freely confess that I ap- proach it with unfeigned diffidence. There certainly does exist, in the very nature of man, certain strong sympathies and antypathies, for which he is absolutely unable to account on reasoning principles; and which, therefore, must be referred to the native inspirations of human instinct. These sympathies and antypathies are every where to be found; nor do I be- lieve there exists ou earth; one single individual, male or female, arrived at mature age, who has not strongly felt the influence of these instinctive: I will not #iy uner- ring principles. They are discoverable in our choices of dogs, of horses, of farms; and infact they lire discover- able, in all cases, where the biases of self interest and ambition have no voice; and where nature herself rules the empire of election. Doctor Fell once asked Dean Swift, what was the reason, after all the advances hit had made to conciliate his friendship, that he could not gain him over; and received the following reply, which apeaks a volme on the subject. '•I do not like you Doctor Fell, The reason wliy I cannot lell. 1 do not like you Doctor I'eM!" These attractive and repulsive principles have been felt by every individual; and the probability is that their influence is stronger or weaker, in proportion to the warmth or coldness ofthe human temperament; for I hold it to be impossible, that so sensative a being as man, can ever behold an object possessed of any strength of character, and feel perfectly indifferent respecting it. If these sentiments of attraction or disgust, existed only [u cases where the character of the object portended '£1 OF THE PASSIONS. benefit or injury to the beholder, the matter might easily be explained, upon'the rational princple of self interest on the one hand, or of self preservation on the other. Such however is not the fact, every man knows, from his own experience; that the first view of an object is pleising or displeasing, attractive or repulsive; and in fact, an object of attachment or disgust in some degree, without the least relation to the sentiments of self interest or self preservation. How much stronger, then must l>e our feelings of attachment or disgust for an object, when we know or believe that the character of fhat object is to determine, under certain circumstances, the. happi- ness or misery of our whole lives! Parents' & guardians ofthe destinies of youth, if you can fur one moment sus- pend the delusions which fascinate you respecting wealth aud aggrandizement, I wish you to remember:—that the closer in cnoiact you bring those who have no natural affinity far each other the greater and more distant will ve$he rehoundl Have you never experienced an emotion of loathing amd disgust, by being merely in the presence of an object, whose native and unaltered character was repuguant to yours? In other words, have you never ex- perienced a moral nausea of all the sensibilies of your na- ture, by being compelled to an association with a being whose feeling*, whose sensibilities, whose very modes of thinking, spoke a language abhorrent to your soul! If you have, you can from some idea of the irresistibile re- pulsions, which sometimes influence the conduct of per- sons in the married state; freeze the few and cold affec- tions which habits of enforced association may have pro- duced; and which seldom fail, sooner or later—either to make them unfaithful to each other, or to separate them for- ever.—This is not a thread bare dream of imagination, a mere chimera of the fancy; the affections of mankind are absolutely beyond their control. How often have you seen instances in which the purest and strongest sentiments of parental duty, and all the efforts of Tea- son herself, have been unable to overcome a repugnance to the marriage bond. Was this apparent contuma- OF THE PASSIONS 33 ciousness the offspring of wilful disobedience, and a fixed design to thwart your intentions of bestowing con- nubial happiness on your child? no—it was the strug- gle, of nature herself in deep distress; it was the last effort she could make, to prevent the violation of one of the most sacred of her laws. S^ein ;tiijsn, as I think has \rt?'\ clearly demonstrated. that human affections are nct.under our control, at le;.st so far as to be influence:! by sentimerits ofdify, or admonitions of reason, are we not to, presume, from the great variety of motives which influence many to enter the marriage bond, that thousands are badly paired and worse matched. I think so; and those who doi.bt the fact, for their own satisfactory conviction of error, will do well to investigate the real causes, of so ranch domestic discontent as is every where to be found; of so many quarrels and connubial bickerings & finally of so many divorces. I assert it to be the fact, and it will be supported by the experience of thousands, that wedlock is a perfect hell, and the worst one we know of on earth, even when surrounded by all the splendors of wealth and trapping of power, if it is not hallowed by human ailectison—and 1 assert farther, and am in no way apprehensive of experimental contradiction, that where wedlock is consecrated by fixed and virtu- ous love, it is and must be a source of high enjoyment, even surrounded by the hardships, privations and.daily sufferings of labor and drudgery. I have often been surprised, on going into some of our cabins on the fron- tiers, there was meat hanging in the chimney, the bread-tray on the only table; the straw bed on a rude frame; the blankets and counterpanes about the floor, from which perhaps a dozen or less of healthy, ruddy children had just risen; there was the corn in the crib, the cow standing with her head in at the door, aud the meal bag under the bed. Great God, I have said to myself, is it possible that wedded love can exist in such a place as this! But I was soon undeceived; the whole enigma was solved satisfactorily; it had been a marriage C* 34 OF THE PASSIONS* of pure and virtuous love untrammelled by the calcula- tions of avraice, the meanness of false pride; and the grovelling aspirations of petty ambition. On the other hand, I have frequented the mansions of the great, the wealthy, and the powerful; where, sur- rounded by luxury and wealth, and reclined at ease on a gilded sopha, love might have held a court' superior in splendor and magnificence to that; said to have been held in the fabled mansions of Jove!' What did I see? I saw discontent, suspicion and prying distrust, lower- ing in every eye. I saw that the hearts of the inhabitants of these splendid mansions were estranged from each other. I saw the servants in varied liveries, glid- ing in solemn silence from room to room; nor did one sound of cheerfulness or- festivity, break the dull mo- notony of this splendid, solitude; this gilded, carpeted, and fastooned hell of wedded mis&ryl I saw the own- ers of all this waste of wealth and luxury, take their solitary meal; for nature had denied them offspring, in rcveuge for a violation of her laws. They approached the festive board, which was loaded with luxuries of every climate, with eyes averted from each other. No social converse; no interchange of thought or sentiment, en livened the cold and hollow splendor of the scene! The servants in attendance helped them: even the com- mon forms of superficial politeness were unobserved- nor did they recognize the presence of each other, unless m stolen and hateful glances. They seemed to sit on thorns; and no sooner was their miserable repast ended than the one betook himself to the gaming table, and probably the other to her paramour. These two delineations of life, are not mere visions, of the fancy; they are to be met with in every country. I ney prove conclusively, that marriages contracted from improper motives, are always followed by consequen- ces destructive to. human happiness and the-best inter- ests of mankind. All the conflicts, discontents and jealousies ofthe married state, may he traced to impro- per motives for marriage or improper-am duct, after it OF THE PASSIONS. 3d Perhaps there is one exception, which I shall name. lhe husband sometimes becomes jealous of his wife, and the wife of the husband, where there is no infidelity on either side; from a mere consciousness of beinr unworthy of an attachment. Cases of this characte'r frequently occur; and it may generally. ,f not in every instance, belaid down as a fixed and settled principle m human nature, that where there is no positive dem- onstration of connubial delinquency, the party disposed to suspicion and jealousy, derives these surmises of deviation, from the simple fact of a consciousness of being too depraved to be an object oflovel I am aware hat this is a severe and degrading sentence, against [hose who entertain causeless suspicions; but the opin- ion is not less true than severe. The following Mini routine of reasoning, usually observed by a man about becom.ng jealous of his wife; -This woman arrests much ot the public attention. She is every where well spoken of. In all public assemblies, where 1 am con- sidered a mere shadow; she commands the most unboun- ded respect, and I view every compliment paid to her beauty and accomplishments, as an indirect satire on myself lam undoubtedly her inferior in everything and particularly in sensibility and intelligence. I am conscious of my own meanness and depravity: she possesses too much perspicacity and penetration, not to have discovered my real character—and cannot love me, —I saw her bowed to in the street: she returned the com- pliment with a smile. Yesterday, from my neglect and inattention, a gentleman of fine appearance and com- manding manners and address, handed her to her car- riage; she thanked him for his polite attention—Ay h----n> she never did love me\ At Mrs. Fiogltt's ball the other night, she attracted general attention; her chair was continually surrounded by gentlemen of figure, compared with whom, I felt myself a mere cipher; a gentlemen bowed politely to her in passing,—angels and ministers defend me! It was the gentleman who handed fcer into her carriage—and I am no more thought 3G OF THE PASSIONS. of—I am a lost man forever." Man of fancied miseries and imaginary cuckoldom, behold your portrait! This is the light in which the world beholds you. Having now in some measure accounted for the pas- sion of jealousy, which is unfortunately too prevalent in this country, I will conclude the subject by some general remarks. The marriage compact is entered into for two purposes — 1st. The happiness of the parties themselves;—2nd. The rearing and educating properly, the offspring of the marriage contract. The principles of a genuine attach- ment, such as ought always to be found in wedded life, can never exist in any degree of perfection, unless there is a natural affinity between the parties—in temper, disposition, passions, tastes, habits and pursuits of mind. When this congeniality is absolutely and entirely want- ing, the parties will gradually and almost impercepti- bly become estranged from each other, and finally expe- rience the influence of indifference, and more probably of settled and confirmed hatred. In this event, if.o ir Jaws would sanction the practice, and if there were no offspring to provide for, it would be much more conso- nant with justice and expediency, that the parties could separate and elsewhere form new and more agreeable engagements. It certainly is worse than useless, to compel persons to associate together, and that too in the most closeand intimate manner, when they are mutually actuated in relation to each other, by sentiments of hatred and contempt. According to the present state of things, in relation to divorcement, the person wishing a releasment from the marriage bond, must first become publicly <% notoriously infamous; or resort, as has been proved by the several late executions of malefactors, or the dreadful alternative of murder. What a terrible lesson do these late executions hold out to society, on the subject of marriage, and the absolute necessity of its being based on genuine love. Many persons marry who only fancy themselves in love! A little Master or Miss, who wolud have been OF THE PASSIONS. &7 well employed in reading the fables in the spelling-book, gets hold ofthe ''Sonuows of Werter," or Ko^sseaos '•FJosi;-.."—Petrarch's "Laura" or some other work ofthe same character, in which unfortunate love is delineated in the colors of the rainbow, and leads its unfortunate ami most melancholy victims to whoredom and suicidel With a head full of such trash, and a heart as tender and susceptible, as a beefsteak, that has been well beaten for the gridiron, nothing will do the little gentleman or lady but the very fact of falling in love; and that too, with the very first object which pre- sents it,elf. Papa and mamma are cruei; they will not assent to the match and the event is probably an elope- ment. Then comes the appalling discovery that the lady is not quite a goddess, nor the gentleman entirely a dem- igod; then, comes the discovery, that they are badly paired, and infinitely worse matched; the gentleman becomes tired of the lady and the lady of the gentleman. and finally, their papas and mammas have to take them home and support them. I have known many instances of this kind, which clearly prove, in addition to what I have noted above, that marriages ought to be predi- cated on natural congeniality of character, and as far as possible, sanctioned by the exercise of reason and reflective power. I have mentioned the rearing and education of off- spring, as duties annexed toth- marriage state. How can such elevated and responsible duties be performed by persons who are disqualified even from regulating^ thair own conduct, so as to set a correct moral example? I am very willing to admit, that teachers of much abil- ity are every where to be found: but no influence can posbihly act on the infant and youthful mind in the for- mation of future character, with half the force, depth aud durability of impression, as that derived from the precepts and example of parents; and I presume it will be admitted, that those who are destitute ofthe ca- pacity to make a judicious selection of partners for life, are scarcely capable of forming the infant miud. The 39 OF THE PASSIONS. wives of the Greeks and Romans and their domestic regulations, were truly the nurses and nurseries of those two great races of statesmen and heroes. The best biographers of Washington, whose moral, political and military life, presents the noblest portrait of man to be found on the records of time, ascribe much of the pu- rity, elevation and patriotism of his character, to the sound judgment and intellectual energy of his mother. —Tiie influence which the manners, example and pre- cepts of a mother, exercise over the intellectual dawn- ings of the youthful mind and passions, can sarcely be appreciated by men of the most acule and profound observation; a proof of which, in addition to the mill- ion of others which migh. be adduced, maybe inferred from the remarks made by the illustrious and greatly unfortunate captive, of St. Helena, on the moral and intellectual qualifications of his mother. The truth is, and I mention it with ordinary sen- timents of regret, that the education of females in tho United Slates, is not only viewed in too unimportant and contemptible a light, but that it is absolutely dis- gracefully to the spirit or oun institutions and the HEAL GENIUS OF THE PEOPLE. L.OVJ3. Tuts isone of themaster passions ofthe human soul, and when experienced in the plenitude of its power, its devotions embrace with despotic energy and uncon- trolled dominion, all the complicated and powerful faculties of man. It was implanted in ihe human bosom, for the j;obkv,t and most beneficent of purposes, and when restricted to its legitimate objects, and res- trained within due bounds by moral sentiment, may be called the great fountain of human happines. ' No passion incidental to humanity embraces so vast a space, aqj such an infinite multiplicity of objects;— it commen- OF THE PASSION. 3» oes in the cradle with tender emotions of filial attach- ment and veneration for our parents; it animates and a( companies us through all the chequered vicissitudes of life, attaching itself to every object which -an afford us enjoyment and happiness, and finally in accompany- ing us to the last resort of the living, it concentrates all its pure and sublime energies at the great fountain of existence, the throne of the living god. Like all othe»- elementary principles of human nature, its essence bailies the keenest researches of philosophy and scieuce: and its existence can only be recognized by consciousness of its presence, and the effets which are manifested in every department of life, by multi- plied exhibitions of its energies. It attaches the infant to its parent, and the domicil of its earliest days of helplessness and dependence; it attaches the youth to the objects of his playful years to the compan- ions of his innocent and festive mirth, and to the first objects of his youthful fancy. Without its animating influence, as concentrated on objects of true glory, the hero would degenerate into a paltroon, th« statesman into a political driveller, and the patriot inki a mere citizen ofthe world, without friends—without home—and without those endearing and sacred ties, which hind us to our native land! Thebencficnet and heavenly aspirations of love, are every where to b« found; they bind the solitary and warlike Savage to his native forests; the Moor, the Arab, and the Negro, to the burning plains of the torrid zone; the Russian, the Sweede, the Norwegian, and Laplander, to the snows and glaciers of the polar regions, and the courtly and civilized European atul American, to the refinements k comforts of the more temperate regions of the globe. Without local, relative or personal attachments, man would be eternally discontented with his condition; ha would become like Cain, a fugitive and a vagabond upon the face of the globe; infact the deep foundations of domestic and national society would soon be broken up, and scattered to the winds of heaven, were it not for 40 OF THE PASSIONS. the strong attachments of man for the objects among which he is placed. If you require proofs of the truth of this universal •doctrine of love, ask the parent what price would induce him to part with his children; ask the husband of a woman of elevated and noble character, what sum in :gold jewels he would considere equivoleut to her value; ask the savage what would induce him to abandon the dangers of the chase, and the deep and silent solitudes of nature, and to reside in your crowded cities, amidst the hum of business, and the confusion of assembled multitudes. Ask the Samoiede, and Laplander, what would induce them to change the fogs and snows of the north, for the mild and balmy temperature of coun- tries presenting eternal spring and unfading verdure? They will tell you that they love theji'parents, their children, their friends, their country. Mau, unlike the inferior animals of creation, is indeed the citizen of every climate; and, his capacity of forming local and relative attachments, are as varied and extensive as the powers by which he overcomes difficulties, and forces nature to yield him the comforts, conveniencies and pos- itive enjoyments of existence. Philanthropy, or love of our species, is founded on favorable perceptions ofthe purity, the beneficence, the elevation and the true dignity of the human character; nor did ever an individual, of any age or country, be- come a confirmed misanthrope, but from contrary per- ceptions of human nature. A man who is naturally a ha- ter of his species, without having had his charac- ter soured by the deceptions, frauds and oppressions of mankind, is by nature cowardly, timid and selfish. Nothing great, patriotic, or disinterested, c.n be expect- ed from such a man; he is cruel, vindicative, avaricious, fraudulent & roguish in the extreme; he only seems to lave been placed among mankind, as a.sort of standard of mean- ness and demerit, by which we are enabled to measure and duly appreciate the elevation' of character and dignified virtues of other men. There are various OF THE PASSIONS. 41 degrees of misanthropy in a descending scale from that which characterized the mind and feelings of "Timon of Athens," downward to the mean, sordid and exclu- h\\^ self love, which manifests itself in taking all possible advantages of mankind, for the hoarding and accumu- lating of ill gotten wealth. These pigmy misanthropes, or haters of mankind on a petty scale, are every where to be found. They are the scoundrels who, in all soci- eties, cheat and swindle upon every occasion; they are the men who will sacrifice, or in other words, purchase at half its value, on an execution sale, the little prop- erty of the ueedy, and who would not scruple to rob the widow and the orphan ofthe little that sickness and misfortune had spared them. You will see these swin- dling vagabonds, adding hypocrsiy to their petty vil- lanies, by making an absolute mockery of religion itself, at the communion table. That insatiable avar- ice is a disease of the mind, there can be no doubt, and that this disease requires a moral treatment of cure, there can be as little question. If these men would reflect on the brevity of human life; if they would con- sider that their ill-acquired wealth must soon pass from their possession, and that death will unload them at the gates of eternity, surely they would soon discover the folly, impolicy, and henious immorality of such a course. The passion of love, propeily so called, or that strong and indissoluble attachment which frequently exists between the two sexes, is one of the noblest and most powerful emotions that ever animated the human bosom. As I remarked before, under the head of jealousy, this pure and elevated ■ attachment, is the great solacer of human life; the harbinger of success- ful procreative power, the precursor and nuturer of successive millions of the human race; the great moral parent of all the numerous races of men to be found in every climate of the globe. It is the native ot every country that has been invaded by the enter prize of man, and is found to bloom and flourish in per- D 42 OF THE PASSIONS. fection wherever man has fixed his habitation. It finds a congenial soil in the booth of the hunter, the hut of the savage, the tent of the wandering Arab, the leafy bower ofthe African ofthe Gambia, as well as in th« haunts of civilization and the. palaces of kings. As I have remarked under anothar head, there exists in the human bosom, certain instinctive sympathies and antypathies, which we are unable to control, either by the force of moral sentiment or the efforts of reason; and which are absolutely inexplicable by all the boas- ted powers of human genius. The existence of these instinctive principles, are only known by our own con- sciousness, and the powerful and dicisive effects they are known to produce. No two human beings, espe- cially of different sexes, and more especially if their affections were unengaged by previous prepossessions, were ever yet in the presence of each other for any length of time, without experiencing the force, in a greater or less degree, of the sympathy or antypathy before noticed. When the attraction is mutually strong, the parties soon become conscious of a congeniality of temper, disposition, tastes and sensibilities: this sym- pathetic attraction has by some writers on the subject, been denominated "love at first sight;" When on the other hand, the physical, moral and intellectual charac- ters of the parties, are essentially and radically different from each other; in other words, and in more fashiona- ble phraseology, when the natural characters of the parties are the antipodes, or direct opposites of each other, the repulsive powers of natural antypathy are so strongly experienced, as to produce involuntary hatred, if not fixed and unalterable sentiments of contempt and detestation. I am thus particular in giving my opinions on these subjects, not only because I know that their correctness will be sanctioned by the actual experience of thousands, but because I trust they will be of ser- vice to many, 1h disclosing the extreme danger to human happiness, which invariably arises from uniting.those to each other, by merely artificial and factitious ties, whom OF THE PASSIONS. 43 God and nature have put assunder. By opposition of native character, I mean a plain and palpable dissimili- tude of temperaments, tastes and intellectual and moral pursuits. Can physical and moral beauty, be in love with physical deformity, and moral depravity of charac- ter? Can wisdom and intelligence be in love with fol- ly and stupidity? Innocence and spotless purityr, with guilt and corruption? Virtue with vice? No! '■Vu-k is a m< nstcr, of such frightful mi< n— ' That to be luted, needs but to be seen.1' I am w iliing to admit and believe it to be strictly true, that persons who are characterized by vice corruption, guilt, stupidity, folly, moral depravity, or personal deformity, may form strong attachments to persons of dianv'trically opposite characters:—this would be but admitting what every person knows; that vice and imperfection, under all their various forms and charac- ters, if endowed with the common faculties of percep- tion, must and always will pay involuntary trihutes of respect, veneration, and such love as they are capable of experiencing, to virtue and moral purity wherever found. The love of the depraved and immoral portion of mankind, is precisely such as may always be expec- ted from such characters; it is selfish, base and i£ noble; utterly devoted to tenderness and consideration for the objV't beloved, it is precisely such love as the wolf bears for the Lamb, or the fox for the Hen-roost! It has always been a matter of much astonishment tome, that females of refined sensibility, lofty sentiments of moral \irtue, and high orders of intellectual power, should expect a reciprocation of pure and virtuous love, from the scum and dregs of society, the off-scourings of bro- thels, and the hoary and depraved veterans of the gam- ing table! They might as well, I think, and with much better hopes of success, attempt to extract catidor from confirmed hypocrites, honor from thieves, and hu- manity from highway rrobbers. There is no way of solving this enigma, that I know of, but by supposing it OF THE PASSIONS. that women of honor and virtue are incapable of distin- guishing the particular claims which these gentlemen have to their destination and contempt; or by presuming that they always, by the aid of their imaginations, invest the characters of such men with factitious virtues, which have no existence; for I cannot suppose they ean truly love them, and yet be fully acquainted with their intrinsic characters. The strength and quality of an attachment, must certainly depend, in a great meas- ure, on the physical and moral qualities of the object beloved, and on the capacities of a lover to perceive and appreciate those qualities. I am perfectly convinced, and that too from experience, that a woman of moral purity of character, never excites the same impure sen- timents and base passions, that are produced or excited by a female of contrary character, and whose counte- nance and deportment betray indications of immoral habits and loos desires. There is something of imma- cniite purity; something, of the very divinity of virtue, in the countenance andi deportment of a woman of chaste desires, elevated moral sentiments, and cultiva- ted intellectual powers, that represses the low-born sug- gestions of lust and depravity, and awes all the vicious passions into cowardly submission to the dignity of female perfection. No man however vicious and de- praved in his habits and pursuits, ever yefc had the impudence and audacity to contemplate the deliberate seduction of an accomplished and beautiful woman, miless he were under the influence of a species of libi- dinous insanityi had formed a contemptible opinion of the hmale character, or had discovered some vulnera- ble part jn her armour of chastity and virtue. Few women, and I mention the fact with much regret, &rr proof agiinst the thrilling suggestions of vanity, the allurements of flattery, and the fascinations attendant on a passion for general admiration: they ought early to be taught by their parents and preceptors that true pride, which is in reality dignity of character, is always hos- tile to tlje foolish, and dangerous .suggestions, of vanity; OFT HE PASSIONS. 45 that flattery, called by an old and quaint writer, (tthe "U of foot," is a dir, vt and positive insult: and that a female passion for universal admiration, especially in the married state, is hostile to domestic peace, and abso- lutely at war with connubial enjoyment and happiness. That flattery is an insult, is evident from the fact, that no flatterer ever yet ventured upon the practice of his ;irt, without first concluding that the object of his ad- dresses was a fool; the truth is, that flattery is al- ways addressed t) our personal vanity, which in plain language, i\eans a strong propensity to an over- estimate of our merits and perfections. Manly and dignified pride, has always been found a specific against the frivolous passion of vanity, and hence it has been frequently said, thata man or woman may be too proud to be vain; the fact is, t" vat vanity is the false and empty pride of fools! Napoleon intended much when he expressed himself thus to some of his friends—"I had hoped k expected that the French were a proud nation, j-^ but I have found by experience that they are only vain." ^ The passion for universal admiration is the distinguish- 'v>> ' ing and strong characteristic of of a coquette; it is the off spring of personal vanity, begotten upon coldness of temperament, ignorance and folly. A coquette, in the female world, is what a coxcomb is among men, a being void of sentiment, sensibility, and intelligence, and utterly incapable of genuine love. The marriages of both coquettes and coxcombs, in conformity with the coldness and shallowness of their characters, are always predicated on other principles than those of attachment to the object, they are abso- lutely incapable of feeling the soft refinements, the ele- vated sentiments, or the deep-toned energies of real love; these people] are never in dinger of suffering the tortures of a broken heart, nor can they experience either much happiness or any considerable degree of misery in the married state. The love of general admiration is their master passion; and whenever this is the case, it is impossible that a concentration of D* 46 OP THE PASSIONS. affections cah take place, and be exclusively directed to a single object; fire can never be produced from the separated and scattered sunbeams, they must be concen- *i trated by a convex glass, called a lens, before they can be rendered sufficiently intense to produce wormth, heat and combustion. The love of general admiration, was wisely implanted in the human bosom, and for the best of purposes; but wherever it gains the full possession of the female breast, it freezes all the domestic and con- jugal affections, and sometimes leads to jealousy and discontent, with all their dreadful train of consequences —in other words, and I wish the sentiment to make a well merited and indelible impression, the married man who can prefer the admiration of other women to that ofthe wife of his bosom, is a traitor to all the hallowed solemnities of the marriage compact, and a cold and calculating violator of the laws of God! Nor on the other hand, is the married woman less a traitress to con- nubial love, to the honor and happiness of her husband and family, and to the best interests of society and domestic enjoyment, who can prefer the shallow and superficial admiration of fools and coxcombs, to the deep and devoted attachments of a husband, who would not scruple to make a sacrifice of life itself to insure here happiness. "Woman alone, was formed to bless The life of man,and share his care; To soothe his breast, when keen distress Hath lodged a poison'd arrow there." I have mentioned that persons of diametrically oppo- site physical, moral and intellectual characters, could never assimilate with, and become strongly attached to each other, notwithstanding the powerful attachments of the sexual instinct. By opposite natural and acquired characters, I do not mean mere contrasts of mental and corporeal disposition and characteristics. I cannot oth- erwise disclose my precise meaning, respecting things which are direct opposites, and those which are only OF THE PASSIONS. 47 contrasts of each other, than by citing the example of colors. Black and white, for instance, are the opposites of each other, and when placed in juxtaposition always pain the eye; but, either of those colors, when com- pared with any other of the primitive colors or even shades, are only considered contrasts. St. Pierre, in his studdies of nature, has been expliciton thisingenius and novel subject, which is certainly worthy of much consideration. There seems to exist, between persons of opposite physical characters, a decided indifference as regards sexual communication; or if not a decided and entire indifference, there certainly does not obtain I etween them, that arduous and passionate sexual pro- ; ensity, which is found between persons who are the i ontrasts of each other. I have remarked in innumer- able instances, the strong attachments which existed between persons of contrasted completions, contrasted colors of the eyes and hair, and especially a strongly contrasted stature & dimensions; and I have no ssess uncommonly! lofty and powerful characU- istics of genius and intellect. This fact is even so noto- rious in all societies, as to have become a proverb; and, how often have we all seen instances in conjugal life, iu which fortitude has been united to despodency—fickle- ness and inconstency of resolution, with the most un- shaken and resolute tenaciousness of purpose—timidi- ty with consumate bravery—and the highest order of moral courage, with the shrinking cowardice of super- stiton and childish ignorance. We know these to be the facts, and can only account for them on the great scale of divine wisdom and providence, by presuming them to be intended for equalizing the human species in wisdom and moral energy—and forming additional and indissoluble bonds in the social compacts of mankind. I have several times mentioned, and I think demon- strated, as far as the force of facts and moral reasoning OF THE PASSIONS. 40 will go, that the passion of love is measurably invol- untary, and beyond the control of moral sentiment and reason; nor can there I think exist any doubt, not only that the strength ofthe passion depends on the pecu- liar temperaments of individuals, but that the distinctive characteristics of the passion or emotion called love, »re essentially connected with the physical moral and intellectual qualifications of the objects or persons be- loved. If, then, the strength of the passion is in any proportion to the natural temperaments of individ- uals; and if its peculiar qualities or characteristics depend on the natural and acquired qualifications of the objects of attachment, how ridiculous, absurd, and perfectly irrational it must be for any man or woman to expect, that he or she can possibly be an object of attach- ment, with any person of rational and scrutinizing mind, on account of qualifications which are not possessed, and which in fact, are known and perceived to be entirely wanting. I mention the subject m this way, and place it in this light, in order to prevent the exercise of hypoc- risy between the sexes, which is always dangerous in its consequences—and in order, also, that those whose happiness in life depends on their being objects of esteem, friendship-, veneration, attachment and love, may >-ee the absolute necessity of deserving the homage of such refined and virtuous sentiments; in other words, that they may be deeply impressed with the important and eternal truth, that candor, honor and moral virtue, are the great passports of human happiness. I have often witnessed the tremulous solicitude of females, of the most amiable and exalted qualities of person and mind, respecting the public opinion of their merits and character, and frequently been interrogated by them on the subject. In these cases, I have uniformly answered in the words of an old Grecian sage, ''know' thyself," and your opinions of yourself, if correct and well foun- ded will be precisely such as are entertained for you by ^those whose esteem and approbation are of any imyor- tan' e, Genuine and rational love, commences in the. SO OF THE PASSIONS. natural, and if I may be allowed the expression, as applicable to human nature, the instictive sympathies of individuals for the society of each other; it is cemen^ ted & powerfully strengthed by the endearments of sex- ual enjoyment, of which I have before spoken; and it is crowned with both temporal and immortal duration, by the mild purity and unfading lustre, of the moral vir- tues, and the imposing splendors of genius and intellec- tual power. As 1 said before, it is confined to no par- ticular climate, and to no exclusive region of the globe; its benign influence is experienced, as well among: the polar snows of the. north, as in the mild climates of the temporate zones. It is the exclusive guest of no par- ticular rank in life: the rich, the poor, the exalted, the base,the brave, are alike participants in its genial w armth •t heavenly influence. In the words of Lawrence Sterne, "no tint of words canspot its snowy mantle, nor chemic power turn its septre into iron: with love to smile upon him as he eats his cruvt, the swain is happier than the monarch, from whose court it has been exiled by vice &. immora ity." This is that undebased and genuinelo^e^ which is founded in unlimited confidence mutual es- teem and the mild sublimities of virtue, and integrity of character. It illuminates the countenance with the spar- kling brilliancy of soft desire; and is in fact, the safe- guard of female virtue, and of chastity itself, whenever assiled by unprincipled and seductive fascination. With respect to the passions of love, there is a com- mon error of female education, which will also apply to the early instruction, of males, of which I must speak in plain terms in the conclusion of this subject. Every human being at a very eaily period of life, from pecu- liar modes of instruction, and the examples presented to the mind, forms some idea of the qualifications which constitute human excellency. If for instance, at an eAily period, the parents and instructors of a female, impress upon her mind, that the mere decoration of the person will render her an object of tender regard, with- # out the cultivation of her moral and intellectual qualities, OF THE PASSIONS. 51 the result will be, and it cannot be avoided, that aiming at what she believes to be the great excellence of the human female character, both her moral and intellectual energies will retrograde into barenness and insipidity: in other words, she will become what the world denom- inates a. pretty woman, the idol of fools and coxcombs, but an object of compassion, indifference or contempt, with men of lofty sentiments and distinguished charac- ters. Peter the Great of Russia, on account of her 8 iperior intellectual endowments chose for a wife, and made her Empress of Russia, a woman of obscure and lowly origin. And in more modern times, I had the information from a person well acquainted with the facts, we find the spirit, discrimination and sound judgment of Peier the Great respecting the value of a woman of a cultivated mind, revived in the person and character of Lord Morgan. Sidney Owenson, his pre- sent wife, was the daughter of Comedian on the Dublin stage. At an early period this youthful female discov- ered strong traits of genius of a literary character, and Owenson, though in impoverished circumstances, deter- mined to educate bis daughter. He did so: in conse- quence of which, she became an object of strong attach- ment with a man of distinguished mind, who preferred her to the title and the rich, and she is now lady Mor- gan. Mrs. Hamilton, a lady of some celebrity, who has written much on female education, makes the following remark on women: "where there is no intellect, there is no moral principle; and where there is no principle, there is no security for female virtue." This is the truth, but not the whole truth: had Mrs. Hamilton recogniz- ed religion as an essential requisite in preserving the moral virtue of woman, she would probably have said all that was necessary on female education.—The accom plishmentsof women, ought always to have some rela- tion to their future duties in life; but it is evident that the cultivation of their minds, cannot with justice to themselves and society be dispensed with! no matter 52 OF THE FASHIONS. what may be their future destinies. A cultivated mind is a never-failing passport to the best society; it always insures the extension of frendship and civility, when accompanied by correctness of conduct and a virtuous deportment; it prevents women from becoming the dupes of artifice, and the victims of seduction; it expands the heart to all the principles of sympathetic feelings for the distresses of others, and induces a com- miseration for the misfortunes of mankind; it holds up to distinct and scrutinizing examination, the real char- acters of men, and enables a woman to make a judicious selection of worth, from a herd of coxcombs and fools, by which, if wealthy and distinguised by personal Ijeauty. she may be persecuted with address. It fiL« her for the superintendence and regulation of a family, and enables her to make correct educational impressions on the minds of her offspring. The want of mental culture, among females of all ranks in life, has frequently led to disastrous conse- quences. By mental culture I do not mean those shal- low and frivolous accomplishments which are sometime* taught at boarding-schools; nor do I mean by a refine- ment ofthe female mind, a proficiency in drawing rose* which resemble a copper coin, in thrumming a waltzon the piano, or fidgiting through the lascivious gesticula- tions of an Italian or French fandango! I mean by mental culture, the acquisition of solid accomplish- ments; those which can be rendered useful to domestic policy, be an example to society in theconection of its morals, & reflect honor on the national character. Such an education always rer resses the way-wardness of the fancy and lops away the useless & often dangerous exu- berance of a powerful imagination; it affords a never fai- ling resource of comfort in solitude, and finds a healing balm for the wound of a wayward and unfortunate des- tiny. In fine, no woman possessed of a judicious edu- cation, even under the pressure of the most trying misfor- tunes, ever yetlostthejustequipoise between her strength and sensibility, or became the victim of a broken heartl OF THE PASSIONS. 53 The exquisite miseries which spring from disappoint- ed love, and sometimes terminate in a broken heart, (for L am well persuaded there is really such a disease,) always arise from visionary creations of the fancy, and disorders of the imagination: in other words, they are the offspring of overstrained 6i imaginary conceptions, of the qualifications of the object of attachment; they are in fact, the melancholy result of an over-estimate of the virtues and perfections, of human nature; of which the woman of a cultivated mind, and really philosophic acquisitions, stands in no possible danger. ,A woman who cultivates her imagination, by the unlimited perusal »f iiovt ,s and romances, at the expense of the solid qualities of her understanding, is always in danger of becoming the victim of a wayward fancy; and, kIiouIiI she live to have the errors of her imagination ctirreiled by practical experience, will have nothing of (he imagination left, hut the ashes afa consumed sensi- bility, on which no future attachment can possibly be predicated. A woman of cultivated mind, sees objects us they really are—ami not as they are clothed by an inflamed and disordered fancy; she knows that human nature is not perfection itself, and expects nothing from it. but what appertains to the natural character of man; she knows t to be a compound of weakness and strength, virtue and vice, wisdom and folly—and never over-estiuijiting the virtues and perfections of an object of attachment, her desires are chastened by moderation, and her lores by the high toned philosophy of true wis- dom! Such a woman, unlike the melancholy victims of a morbid sensibility, and a high wrought and disor- dered imagination, is in no danger of sinking into the diseased apathy of disappointed love, and becoming the victim of partial or total insanity, or a disconsolate and broken heart; for which all the mere medical remedies known m human genius and science, are but miserable & inefficient palliatives. Religion, change of scenery. & attractive and interesting company, in some cases have considerable influence ra detaching the mind from the E 31 &4 OF THE PASSIONS. concentration of its reflections on an object of deep and vital love; but, in the more numerous instances, they have all been known to fail, and even to baffle all the efforts of friendship and parental attachment. In fact, it seems to me, and I have paid much attention to the subject, that judicious education, and a well cultivated mind, acting as preventatives to the disorders of the ima- gination, are almost the only and powerful specifics, against, the occurrence of the miseries of disappoint- ed love. GRIEF. This depressing affection of the mind, called a pas- s'wn, when experienced in the extreme, sometime* degenerates into confirmed melancholy, despair and fatal insanity. It is the offspring of so many and sncb various causes, that it is next to impossible to enumer ate them. It is sometimes caused by cheerless and gloomy presentiments of the future; sometimes by the he:;vy pressure of present evils and calamities; and not unfrequently, by strong and vivid recollections of losses which can never be retrieved. Against \U inroads and often fatal effects on the health of the phys- ical system, (which are varied according to the temper- ament and character ofthe individu 1.) neither the internal nor external exhibition of medical drugs cau have much avail. The force and effect which grief exercises and pro- duces, in deranging the functions ofthe phys cal system, seem in a great degree to depend on the poignat cy and acuteness of those sensibilities which characteiiz,e the nervous system. Where the nervous system is tremu- lously sensible, and easily susceptible of external impressions, which is generally the case with persons of distinguished genius, there is invariably found a con- stitutional melancholy, which delights in retrospections OF THE PASSIONS. 55 of t'lc past, and serioiH. if not cheerless anticipations ofthe future. At an early period of life, these persons ore highly susceptible of the. char.ns of nature, and also of her more gloomy and sombre scenery; and, being deeply sensible ol the influence of what to other men would be slight impressions, there feeiings always rxhibit themselves in the extremes of animation or depression of spirits, for which they themselves *re ntterly unable to account. In fact, it is not unusual to witness in the varying sensibilities of these persons, and (hat too in the lapse of a single day, the reflective calm- ness and profundity of the great south-ru Pacific Ocea» —the urbanity and cheerfulness att ndant on anticipa- tions of future prosperity and happiness—and those storms of ungovernable end unsubdued passions, whose undulations resemble the mountain billows ofthe Atlan- tic, when lashed by the buricanes and tornadoes of the Torrid Zone! This is not only the constitutional tem- perament of true and unsopisticated genius, of which so much has been said, ami so little known, but it is rd.■„') the soil "vhich produces sensations of exquisite happiness ajual misery; distinguished principles of mor- al redituv-./ and depravity of conduct; great virtues and great idcesl • Seriousness, depression ofspirits, melancholy, chief. despair, insanity, are but the different modifications of the same passion, or predisposition ofthe moral facul- ties, of whose essence we in reality know nothing abstractly, only differing in degree of force and effect, in proportion to the strength and weakness of operating causes. For instance; seriousness and solemntiy, of feeling, are always produced in a mind of sensibility and reflection, by the sight of a dead body; ofthe hu- man limbs lopped away in battle; of the human mind in ruins; and of human misery exhibited to us under any form: in these cases the effects produced are only temporary, and usually pass away with the removal of the objects which excited them. If, however,-serious and solemn feelings be often reproduced in the mind, by 3G OF THE PASSIONS. reiterated exhibitions, of objects capable of exciting them, their impressions will become more durable, anil soon produce a habitual tone of feeling, denominated depression of spirits. When this depression of spirits is habitually indulged in for any considerable lapse of time, it is apt to gain so great an ascendency over the active and resolute powers of the mind, as to dispose the.persons affected with its influence, to seek in solitude and retirement from society, an indulgence in activity, irresolution and gloomy reflections, which, becoming fixed and a? it were immovable, settles down into mel- ancholy. Seriousness, depression of spirits, and mel- ancholy, sometimes produce mental derangment; but they are generally of a harmless, unobtrusive, silent, and inoffensive character, where the nervous system, is tremulous and exceedingly delicate—or where the tem- perament, if I may be allowed the phraseology, is char- acterized by weakness, irresolution and timidity. Compared with the above affections, which seem at first view to have their seat in the imagination, and by some are denominated hypochondria in men. and hys- terics, in women—grief nm\ despair are certainly affec- tions of a more active and powerful character, and much sooner ending in fatuity or mtntal exhaustion, and outrageous or confirmed insanity. As 1 have somewhere mentioned, and the probability is that the fact will be acknowledged by all well in- formed physicians, by which I mean those who have discovered how little can be essentially known on the subject of affections of the mind, the particular and direct influence which these, and other strong passions, have in deranging the organization ofthe brain, cannot well be ascertained. All we know about the matter is, fiat we cannot think with accuracy and profundity of re-search, without a well organized brain, and that any derangment ofthe organization and its natural func- tions, produces co-equal and co-extensive derangements of the intellectual or mental powers. The probability is, that refined, susceptible, and strong organizations of OF THE PASSION. 57 the brain, considered in the aggregate, have much influ- ence in imparting to the mind, those refinements of taste, susceptibilities of feeling, and superior intellectual capacities, which we call genius, for want of a term which can be more clearly understood. AVe are per- fectly aware, that without a well organized eye, no defin- ite or accurate ideas can be formed of colors—forms— dimensions—distances, that without a well-organized and susceptible ear, no clear and distinctively correct impressions can be made, by what we call sounds, or vibrations of the air, for want of a more expressive term, on the auditory nerves: that without a well con- structed nasal organ, vulgarly denominated a nose, no clear and distinct impressions can be made on the olfactory nerves or nerves of smelling, by the effluvia arising from bodies; that, unless the portions of the nervous system which are incorporated with the tongue and its appendages, be unobstructed by malconforma- tion of the organs of taste, no distinctions of flavor could be recognized, between sugar, gall, and vinegar; and that unless the nerves which are spread over the cutaneous surface of the body, and particularly that of the hand's be perfect both in organization and tone, no adequate or correct ideas could ever be formed of the shape, solidity, &o. of bodies, with which we come in immediate contact. The fact seems to be, and I con- sider the theoretical conjecture inferior to none which has been published by medical men, that whenever the affections of the mind derange the tone & susceptibility of the senses, these derangments always bring to the censorium, or focal point of mental impression, incor- rect and distordered ideas of external objects which, as in hypochondria, make us believe in the existence of phantasmagoria of a most childish and superstitious character. This is a species of insanity, connected with unnatural and painful seriousness—habitual de- pression of spirits—and confirmed melancholy. On the other hand, when afflictive impressions are made upon the mind, of^i unusually active & powerful char- K* 5* OF THE PASSIONS. acter, and sufficient to impair and partially destroy tf/c organization itself, as in the cases of intence & poignant grief, or absolute and hopeless despair, the partial disso- lution ofthe physical structure and organization ofthe brain, it is not improbable, leads to offensive mischiev- ous, and terrific insanity, amounting to absolute phren- zy, aud finally terminating in dissolution. The fact is, and it is well known to physicians, that a dissolution of the organic structure of the frame, if that dissolution take place in any vital organ, particularly the brain or stomach, between which there exists a close and almost identical sympathy, decidedly morbid effects aro produced to the whole system—physical, moral and mental; in fact, the brain may be called the father, and the stomach the mother of the system. I have only as yet spoken of the 'influence which is produced upon the physical functions and system, by the passion of grief, and other strong affections of the same or similar character. The same effects as those produced by the passions#above enumerated, are some- times the offspring of other causes, not connected in the first instance, with the passions, but which afterwards operate strongly upon them, and assist in destroying the nervous, vital and moral functions and organization of tjie system. We know perfectly well, for instance, that there are many substances which, when taken into the stomach, affect the passions strongly by irritation and excitement—produce morbid derangment ofthe physic- al functions—and not unfrequently, moral and ment- al alienations.-The effect of tincture of conthaides on some ofthe passions, when taken into the stomach, is perfectly well known: nor do I believe, that if its application to the stomach were long continued, it would ever fail to produce morbid irritations and inflammations, which would terminate in functional derangment, and S£ eratur* incidental to the changes of the seasons; like them h« can be deluged by rains, frozen by the snows of winter, and melted by the heats of summer. Like them he is subjected to physical diseases, which can he mitigated or removed hy the same means; and like them he is ani- mated by strong sentiments of self-preservation, and entertains an inst nuve and powerful dread of both pain and dissolution! Hut here the parallel between man and the inferior orders of creation terminates; and he begins to take his departure from their earth-born level, which they can never emulate or even follow. Man is the only animal in creation, who can raise his contemplations to the Deity, and experience a sublima sentiment of awe and veneration, for the unknown au- thor of his existence. The only animal in creation, capable of experiencing a strong solicitude for a knowl- edge of his own origin, or who can direct his views and anticipations to a future existence, bevond the boundaries of time! He is the only being absolutely ka»wn to himself who can form a conception of space, OF TUB PASSIONS. fir, which is an abstract idea of infinity; of time which is an abstract conception of eternity, or of plastic and creative power, which leads to an abstract, but infinite- ly inadequate conception of the omnipotence of god. Man seems to unite in his moral and intellectual com- position, the human extremes or strength and weakness. iciydom and folly. In infancy, or when not associated with his fellow-beings, he. is a naked, defenceless, dependent and timid animal; exposed to diseases of every multiplied character—to dangers beyond arith- metical computation—and to death in all its varied and gigantic forms: yet with all these incipient weaknesses*, and seeming imperfections of his nature, in the pleni- tude of life and intellectual power, and when associated with his fellow-beings in social compact, he has satisfied his natural wants; rendered himself independent of every thing but his crkatoh: driven from his presenc -, enslaved to his purposes, or destroyed by the machin- ery and chemical power of his war-like inventions, all animals hostile to his life and his preservation; ami compelled the earth, the air, the waters and the woods, to yield him the sustenance and even the luxuries o; life, and to furnish him with the means of constructing bis habitation. He has done more, ilv refering; his knowledge of particular facts, to the discovery of ab.-tract and general principles, he has measurably unfolded the elements of science; by which he meas- ures the earth, anddiscloses thelaws which regulate tla solar system:—ascertains the distances and relative positions of the heavenly bodies, and determines tin location of his own globe among them: discloses the compouet parts of which the substratum of the earth itself is compounded, and by an effort of microscopic vision and profouud sagacity, gives you a satisfactory analysis of a physical atom! Nor is this all: from obscure and imperfect original discoveries in nautical scieuee, he has converted the bark canoes ofthe wan- dering savage into vehicles of burthen for international commerce, and imposing engines of war: and, instead F 66 OF THE PASSIONS. of the pretty barks of the ancients, by which they | ros- ecuted an insignificant trade along the shores and inlets ofthe Mediterranean, he has constructed ships of bulk ;:c;d strength sufficient to master the winds of heaven and the waves of the ocean:—to discover and colonize new continents: and to make his way in security, through trackless, unknown, and almost shoreless ocean1-:, to countries so remote as not even to be found in delineation on the mariners chart! Nor do the greatness of his discoveries, nor the sublime elevations of his character, terminate here. The progressive improvements of man in literature, from hieroglyph- ics, which are the signs of things, to the use of tet- ters, which are the signs or symbols of sounds, afford new and astonishing demonstrations of his powers. We have proofs before i;s, if we will advert for a moment to the present state of mankind, of all the progressive stages of improvement through wSiich he has passed, iu arriving at his present state of moral and intellectual civilization, and scientific and literary refinements: nor need we recur to the empire of fable, nor the iictious of his early hystory, to arrive at the truth. A collective view of the present inhabitants of the globe, wiil furnish ample demonstrations ofthe following facts. In a state of savage and illiterate nature, tradition,?,.* among the Indians of cur own for- ests afforded the only means of communication, between the present and future races of mankind.—But, in pro- portion as man b'-^xn to progress in discoveries relating to the arts and sciences, he became disgusted and dis- satisfied with errors and misrepresentations of oral tradition and sought various expedients to perpetuate to his posterity, authentic testimonials of his sagacitv, and durable monuments of his intellectual powers. Hieroglyphics and pyramids were resorted to in some countries, am] pillars and public edifices in others: but knowing all these to be liable to decay, and that their true meaning might be easily misunderstood or forgot- ten, he was not satisfied with a medium of intelligence. OF THE PASSIONS. 07 which would revive and perpetuate his knowledge and discoveries to future times, until literature arose to record iu unfading character*, the intelligence, the improvements in science, and the fate of past genera- tions. The discovery of, and progressive improvements in letters, have enabled man to trace his species through all anterior ages since the creation, nor would he now, were it not for literature and the discovery of the art of printing, be enabled to profit at this advanced period of the world, by the records of history, and the divine inspirations of religion, virtue and pure morality, which are. breathed forth in love and mercy to fallen man, by holy whit! It is from this divine and inspired work, that he derives a knowledge of all the attributes of his creator; of the immortality of his own soul: and of all the duties he owes to God, his f< llow-crea- lures, and himself. The reveries of all the sages and philosophers of antiquity, with the immortal Plato at their head, sink into cold insignificance, when compar- ed with the divine consolations afforded toman, by that pure and unsophisticated religion, which is derived from the word of God: and while speaking ofthe pure and r.ndefilcd religion of Jesus Christ, I will first show what it is not; second, the abuses of its doctrines: third, whut it really is, and fourth, its benefits and consola- tions, in health and prosperity, sickness and misfor- tune. The virtues and the boasted wisdom of man, puri- fied and improved by the highest efforts of human rea- son, would be nothing without the support and conso- lations ofthe doctrines ofthe scripture. The magnif- icence, splendor and sublimity of the great works of nature, from which alone, without the divine inspira- tions to be found in the word of G 3d, he is enabled to form butan inadequate and finite conception ofthe attri- butes of an Almighty Creator, dazzle and confound the feeble efforts of man, in all his attempts to grasp at the divine perfections of his maker— baffle all the high- toned energies of his reason and intelligence—and throw 6S OF THE PASSIONS. him to an infinite distance below even an imaginary conception of the Deity. Thus circumstanced—thus surrounded by mysteries which he cannot explain to himself—feeling a strong and deep seated natural sen- timent of immortality; and yet dreading the cold and silent horrors of the grave—the word of God, and faith in Christ alone, can afford him support and conso- lation in the hour of death; solve the otherwise inscru- table and sublime mysteries of his own existence; and reveal to him the dreadful enigmas of eternity! In fact, when man surveys with an attentive and philo- sophic eye, the vast and complicated machinery of the "* Universe—when he discovers that all his complicated and boundless machinery is subject to the irresistable influence of laws infinitely beyond his conception; —when he essays toembody his own conceptions of the. attributes of that being who created, and who rules and governs all;—and, in fine, when he makes the feeble attempt unaided by divine revelation, to identify his hopes of immortality and future happiness with the unchangeable laws of created nature, so vast so bound- less, and so complicated as they must be, he shrinks back upon his own insignificance, and involuntarily asks himself, "am I not a stranger to the eternal laws of my own destiny?—am I not a stranger to this God, the supreme Creator of the Universe?—am I not lost in the immensity of his worjis, and the boundlessness of his power?" Mere opinions, deduced from the boldest efforts of the reasoning faculties of man, never yet produced that genuine religion which absorbs his affections, concen- trates his love and gratitude on his Divine Creator, regulates his moral and intellectual energies for the production of his present and future happiness, and makes him satisfied with his own prospects' of futu- rity. These are the reasons in all probability, why the ancient sages, who hoped for, and partially believed, in immortality, were unable to satisfy themselves, with rational and conclusive proofs of the future existence of OF THE PASSIONS. GO the human soul: these are also probably the reasons, and they are founded in the wisdom and providence of God himself, why the great truths of immortality were veiled, in all ages, anterior to the true gospel dispensa- tion, from the boasted sagacity and reasoning powers of the philosophers and sages of antiquity:—for, could these men have arrived at any definite and certain con- clusion on the future destinies ofthe human race, with- out the moral purifications of true Christianity, the consequences would have been dreadful to society.and mankind, as can be easily demonstrated. Suppose a man were enabled !.y the unaided efforts of reason, to demonstrate conclusively to hiia-elf, that annihilation, or an absolute and entire negation of exis- tence, was his future and irrevocable doom: — what would b" the immediate consequences of this appalling and dreadful discovery! Would he not feel that every affection of his soul was dissolved—and that existence •>itself was valuless? Would it not loosen every strong tie he feels in life—and sic ken him with that lap«e of time which must so soon reduce him to nothing!— Where, under this gloomy ami horrid anticipation, would be his affections for his parents, his wife, his family, his country:—what would become of the per- . formance of his duties as a parent, a husband, a citizen and a patriot:—where would be the endearing sugges- tions of his own self love, and his ensatiabfe desires of present and future happiness, under the. certain convic- tion that the elevated aud hoble energies of his soul would explode and be lost forever, when his carcass would become a clod of the valley. But, let it be supposed, that the powers of reason unaided by the holy inspirations ofthe scripture, were capable of arriving at the certain conviction of man's future happiness in eternity; and that the decree of the Almighty which awarded to him so auspicious a destiny, was absolutely irrevocable by his own conduct aud what would then be the consequences? With so brilliant a career of future happiness and oelestial glory in full F* TO OF THE PASSIONS. view, would not all the poor enjoyments of this life fade away—and even all the splendors of the visible crea- tion become to him a blank? Would he take upon himself the cares of a family; assume the laborious duties of providing for a numerous offspring, or feel an interest in the common affairs of mankind? Would he experience any of those affections and friendships, which, under the present predicaments of life, are of such vast importance to the enjoyments of man? Can the eye which is accustomed to gazing at the sun dis- tinguish the darker and more sombre colorings of earth- v- b' objects? But, with unalloyed and interminable hap- piness beyond the grave in full view, what in this life would be the feelings, emotions and conduct, of a man subjected to the pains of disease, the evils attendant on poverty and want, and all the great aggregate of miseries and misfortunes, with which man in the present state of things is destined to agonize through life? Would he feel disposed to encounter gratuitously, evils and suf- ferings from which he could escape with impunity to happier regions? And now let us suppose that a man were enabled to distinguish nothing in his future destinies, but a sub- mission throughout eternity to the sufferings and speech- less agonies ofthe damned; that nothing he could do would alleviate so dreadful, disasterous and horrible a destiny:—and what would be the immediate results? Where, to the eye of such a man, would then be all the charms and facinations of nature? Where all the varied and imposing splendors of the visible creation? What delight could he possibly experience in the performance of his moral duties or in the practice of virtues which must terminate in a future condition infinitely worse than annihilation itself? Would not these dark and dread- ful anticipations of a period which must soon arrive, be eternally present to his immagination; w itb ail their attendant horrors? Would they not haunt his waking dreams of future misery, and disturb his midnight slumbers, with spectral phantoms ofthe sufferings of the OF THE PASSIONS, TI damned, too frightful and tremendous for delineation! But, what, under these awful and afflicting expectations, from which there were no distant hopes of exemption, would be the character and conduct of this unfortunate and miserable victim? Would he not say to himself: —-"AVhat to me are all the ties of parentage of offspring or of kindred; what interest have I in the affairs of life, the peace and happiness of society, or the moral conduct and regulations of mankind. 'Before the set- ting of to-morrow's sun, my eyes may close forever on the light of day, on all the objects which once were dear to my infancy and youth, and on all the varied and sublime beauties, which characterize with magnificence and splendor, the mystic wonders of created nature! For me no morning sun will ever again arise; for me no vernal music of the groves will ever again awake; on my benighted soul predestined to endless torments, no distant ray of feeble hope can ever dawn!7'----Secta- rians, remorseless fanatics, purblind bigots—you who deal with unsparing hand and intolerant zeal, the ineffable and everlasting miseries of deep damnation to your fellow beings, merely for differing from you in opinion respecting modes of faith and divine worship, behold iu this faithful picture, the condition to which your narrow and selfish doctrines would consign the great mass of mankind!—Approach and behold a pic- ture, which might make you shudder for your blasphe- mous presumptions, in judging between erring and feeble man and his maker; and wresting the high pre- rogative of divine and eternal justice, fro.n the hands of the Almighty! If you can for a moment suspend the fiery and vindictive delusions of your intolerance and presumption. I wish you to contemplate with a dispas- sionate and discriminating eye, some farther results to which your infuriated and intolerant doctrines inevita- bly tend. If you alone are right, and if all other reli- gious creeds are the offspring of error, which must of neccessity terminate in future misery—what allurements to religion and morality do you hold out, to those who Tl OF THE PASHIONS. you say are predestined from all eternity to the inflic- tions of divine wrath: and to what a penury of benefi- cence and love, do you reduce the mercy aud affections of the Deity to man. Do you suppose that the doc- trines of particular and exclusive faith, are within the arbitrium or control of the voluntary powers of human intellect? In other words, do you presume that a man can believe what he wishes, without divine assistance sought with purity of heart! And that he cau ever be the voluntary devotee of religious error, thereby sin- ning against light and knowledge, and dooming him- self to endless and indescribable torments? To speak in plain terms, and without any courtly affectation of language detrimental to the interests of truth, can you suppose that any rational being since the creation of man, ever yet voluntarily consigned his soul to everlast- ing misery, by the entertainment of religious opinions which he knew to be wrong: the truth is, that the suppo- sition implies, not only a contradiction in language, but an absolute and positive contradiction in the facts them- selves! '' But let us suppose for a moment that your sect or persuasion alone are right in their faith and religious opinions, aud that all others professing different modes of faith, and different opinions in religion, are in the entertainment of errors which must inevitably end in eternal punishments. Have you ever contemplated the absurdity of this intolerant and exclusive doctrine: have you ever viewed it with an unprejudiced and dispas- sionate eye, and traced its malignant and desolating spirit, on the past, on the present and on future times? If you have not, I will make the laudable attempt to burst your narrow and intolerant prejudices asunder;- and to exhibit these disgraceful and dogmatical doc- trines in all their native deformities. By the Mosaical account of the creation, which we are bound to believe authentic, the world is now nearly six thousand years old; but of the antedeluvian races of men, and also of those who existed anterior to the OF THE PASSIONS. TJ gospel dispensation. I will make none but the following simple and plain remark; that it would hardly comport with the common principles of justice, to consign all those numerous races of men to eternal perdition, for not belie\ing in doctrines which had never been announced to them, and to which they were utter stran- ger-! Since the first announcement of the gospel dis- pensation under our ►Saviour until the present time, a period of nearly two thousand years has elapsed; every //"//' minute of which long period, according to the most authentic calculations which can be made, has witnessed the. birth and death of tern human beings'. There are, as nearly as the facts can be ascertained, ahnut eleven hundred millions human beings composing the population on the glebe: now if—you will asceitain the number of half minutes which have elapsed in two thousand years, and multiply that number by ten, you will have something like the number of deaths which have occurred since the coming of Christ. Under this strong, aud new, and most important view of the subject; aud considering likewise, that the immense and measurably unknown population of both Africa and Asia, have never embraced the christian dispensa- tion; that the aboriginal inhabitants of both North and South America have ever beeu in the same uncivilized and unchristian condition; I wish you to inform me ye bigots—ye fanatics—ye fiery and intolerant zealots, in the cause of God autocratical, supreme, and infinitely mercij'ult to feeble and erring man, how many i.e.man being-, out of the countless uiynads who have sunk into the tomb in thelonglap.se of two thousand years, belonged to these little sects, which doom all mankind to the horrors of deep and irrevocable damnation but themselves! But this is not all: according to the narrow and exclusive principle of your religious doctrines, which we will bring nearer to ourselves by an applica- tion of them to the present age, how many human beings, out of clean hundred millions which are now iu existence, according to the purblind and intolerant 74 OF THE PASSIONS. dogmas of any one of your exclusive professions of faith, will be doomed never to reach the goal of infin- ite mercy, even through the merits of that Saviour who died for tiie salvation of all, mankind! These are views of the absurdity of some of your doctrines, and ofthe dreadful consequences they would have in their applications to mankind, too stubborn for the subter- fuges of sophistry, too authentic in point of fact for refutation, and too plain for either denial or evasion.— But let us advance a step farther; let us contemplate the appalling spectacle, which your wild, speculative and visionary theories of religion, would present to an assembled Universe at the end of time! Let us sup- pose a period, the great day of accounts between man aud his maker, when an aggregation of all the various races of men, and, of all the countless myriads who have existed . between the commencement and the ter- mintion of time, would take place: here all arithmetical computations fail:—and the human imagination itself expires, in attempting to grasp at so vast, so unbounded a spectacle! Suppose also, that your paltry and dis- putacious conflicts here, and your narrow conceptions of divine justice, always inadequate and contradictory because the offspring of ignorance, were to be made the irrevocable standard of adjudication by which count- less and innumerable millions of the human race were to be consigned to endless misery ruin and dispair? Would not so dreadful an exhibition of the conseaue:/, ces of your bigotry and intolerance, destroy your holy zeal and vindictive rage, in the cause of religious and intolerant prejudices? Would not your sensibilities as men, weep tears of blood and forgiveness over the mis- lies of your fellow men? Would you not wish to revoke those prejudices against mankind, which could populate the regions of the damned with myriads of your fellow beings—disclose to you an abortive though divine scheme of redemption for fallen man—and tor- ture your intellectual vision with the spectacle of a ruined creation, and an almost solitary God\ OF THE PASSIONS. ,o I hr.ve now shown, and I think conclusively, that the eff*. its of hum:*.n reason, unaided by scriptural divinity, are utteily incomoetent to disclosing to mankind the gient truths connected with the immortality of man: — thi>,t without the moral psirilnatious of true chrisiianity and genuine religion, such disclosures would have he< a IVought wiih dreadlbl consequence41 to manl.ind. instau- ce;l in the cases of future certainty as to annihilation, future hnjipincss and future misery. I think I have dmie more; 1 think I hive shown, as far as the moral reasnaing powers of man can be applied to it'.coo'.rowr :- hie Tic's, that very mii|y ofthe intolerant anil sectarian abuses which h:;ve crept into the chri-'.ian reii.;ion, iVoui the liigolry and misdirected zeal o' rcany of is helligcriut and inflammatory champion*, r.re utterly incou-istent with christian charity, truly divine worship, and the principles of btkknai. .iistick: in fine, 1 think 1 have shown conclusively, what pure and genuine re- ligion is not! As connected and incorporated with dangerous and into!, r.uit opinions in religion, the abusive a/nsct/uences which alwuys ilosv iVom such opinoins, especially when under the influence of the. vindictive passions, of men, require dispassionate consideration. I have sued in another part of this work, when speaking of (he more.l philosophy of the p.-issinss that when restrained within i!ue bounos, and exercised only in relation to their native end legitimate objects, they were essential not only to the existence but to the happiness of man. I now assert that the reverse of this proposition is equally true, in other words, that the passions when indulged in to c\eess, and suffered to produce anarchy and wide misrule in the human bosom, are fraught with innumer- able inb tics and misfortunes to mankind, in every de- partment of life. In sectarian doctrines, which relate to the entertain- ment of opinions connected with the temporal self in- terests of mankind, it is to be expected that the pas- sion*, in ill their excesses, will always have consider- :g OF THE PASSIONS. able influence. The professors of all the sciences which relate to the present state of man, are passion- ately influenced to the conversion of proselytes to their respective systems, because on the number of their con- verts depend not only their wealth am\fa?ne—but in numerous instances, the very bread which themselves and their families require for daily support. The same may be remarked, in relation to the leaders of all pol- itical partizane—and to all other zealots in political science. In these cases, and in many others which might be enumerated, the stimulation of the passions, and all their disorganizing and dangerous excesses, are proportioned to the real or imaginary/ self interests of man, and to the acute and energetic pressure of his immediately real or imaginary ivants. In all these cases, we can account on rational principles or more properly speaking on logical ones, for the slander and defamation with which scientific men of all professions usually load each other—and tor all the persoual enmity, envy and malignity, with which the low lived spirit of grovelling ambition, usually persecutes a dangerous and aspiring rival! In all cases where we can connect the excesses of the pas- sions, and the practice of intoleration and injustice, with the wrants, and immediate self interests of men, there seems to be some colorable mitigation for their de- viations from virtue, justice and moderation: but in cases where Religion alone is concerned; where all the tem- poral interests and conflictions of self-love are entirely out ofthe question, where the religious faith and opin. ions of men are accounts only to be referred to the lofty and unerring tribunal of god himself; the gratuitous persecuiions of men, and their sanguinary zeal in the cause of an Almighty power, who needs not their assist- ance, can only be accounted for upon principles of wan- ton depravity, native cruelty of temper, and innate vin- dictiveness of soul! Does the Almighty require the sac- rifice of the peace of society, and of all the affections of man for his fellow-beings, in the diil'usion of an immac- OF THE PASSIONS. 77 nlatcand benevolentreligion, which expressly inculcates —"peace on earth, und good will towards men?" If my faith in the recititude and paity of my own doc- trines of salvation he perfect, will the persecution and destruction of the religious doctrines of other men, add any further demonstrations of truth to the support of my own creed? You may as well tellme, ye bioot-. and persecutors of cmnkind for the love ct God, that the sun requires a lamp for the diffusion of his meridian rays—or that by conflagrating the habitation of a fellow being, you will build or repair your own! Why then consign to everlasting destruction, and that too without attempting their reformation, r.ll those who may chance to differ from you iu religious faith and opinion? Are. not those who dissent from you in religious doctrines and opinions as rational as vourselves? Are they less interested in knowing the. truths of genuine christian divinity, and in practising on the precepts which they incubate than \ou yourselves are? !)• \on suppose that any human being ever existed, who was endowed with ordinary rationality, and common sentiments of self lore 9,\\ho could voluntarily entertain errors of opinion in religion, knowing that the pro- fession of such opinions would eventually consign Ihei.r immortal souls, to deep and irredeemable misery! Why they persecute, men, for the entertainment of opinion.-, as hieh are misfortunes and not critiUcs? Why. in other words, , in the execution of those laws which his own infinite wisdurt.', at tub creation, imposed on the kniversei Unccr this view of your conduct, which I place in a strong and correct light for your own contemplations, with the hope that you may be induced to abandon your abuses of the religion of the Saviour of inankiud, and G 78 OF THE PASSIONS. to treat your fellow-men with more lenity and compas- sion, I must confess myself utterly at a loss, which most to be astonished at your ignorance—presumption— or fanaticism. How ye. biggotted and fanatical zeal- ots—how do you reconcile your inquisitions, your burn- ings, your persecutions, aud your intolerance in opin- ion, with the mildly compassionate and human exam- ple of the Saviour of the world; he who exclaimed amidst the protracted agonies ofthe cross, and whilst sweating drops of blood to wash out the crimsoned iniquities of mankind—''Father forgive them for they know not what they do!" You are mistaken in attri- buting to pure and holy zeal in the cause of religion, your persecutions of those who differ from yrou in sectarian faith and doctrines: your worldly minded pride of making proselytes—your ambition to become conspic- uous among men, as the defenders of the true faith— your secret aspirations after exaltations to high clerical ouVes—your love of worldly distinction and temporal power—and not unfrequently, your cupidity and ava- rice, respecting good round salaries for the fiiscliarge of your official functions; these are the energetics aud inflammatory motives, which urge you to your vindictive persecutions of mankind for opinion's sake; these ar« the real causes of your want of charity to each other, and to mankind in the aggregate. I think I have now shown, in a tolerably clear and strong point of view, not only what religion is not—but also many of the abuses of its doctrines; let us now endeavor to understand something respecting what it really is. "Feeble work of my hand," says the Almighty to his creature man, "I owe you nothing but I give yon existence. I place you in the midst of a univers which bespeaks my wisdom and glory, and I surround you with blessing* and enjoyments, which ought to excite, in your bosom pure and elevated sentiments of love, admiration ami gratitude, to that inscrutable Beins; who made you for the enjoyment of happiness—and OF THE PASSIONS. 7* placed the objects of those enjoyments within your teach. Your love can add nothing to my felicity, your admiration to my power, nor your sentiments of grati- tude to my glory; and I make you susceptible of theso exalted and divine emotions, that you may renderyour- self happy, both here and hereafter. The fidelity of your obedience to my laws will be the test of your own happiness; aud, when you cease to 'hive me and keep my commandments,' your breach of my precepts will offend me, and render yourself unhappy." Such—according to our feeble and inadequate con- ceptions of a (iod of love and mercy, are the mild and benevolent sentiments entertained by him for his erring anil dependent creature man-fov he expressly announ- ces in his holy word, "that he delights not in the death of a sinner." These are some, of the consniations of true religion, which when fully merited by man. by a •trict obedience to the words 6f scripture and a full aud entire faith in the merits of a blessed redeemer, no- thing earthly can destroy. I do not intend to enter into a critical dissertation on the shbject of religion, farther than its divine spirit is connected with the moral condi- tion of man, and his physical health and enjoyments. We know perfectly well, from our own conciouness, that the mere pleasures and enjoyments of this world, are insufficient to satisfy the moral desires of the human mind, when deeply impressed with an unerring senti- ment of immortality. Give a man wealth and luxury unbounded; load him with titles and worldly honors; even clothe, him with what Doctor Young calls "a mortal immortality,"—and, like Ccesar when crow- ned emperor and invested with the imperial purple, lie will exclaim—"and is this aW." With respect to the enjoyments of this world, I mean those which are noi connected with a future state of existence, and sen- timents of pure and undefiled religion, it is a truth that has been recognized by the experience of all ages, that their satiation always produces indifference, and Hot unfrequently disgust. This circumstance aloneought 80 OF THE PASSIONS. to convince us, that the desires of man and his capaci- ties for enjoyment, are not limited to this earthly sphere; and that there must be a future and more ex- alted state of being, where his capacities for moral and intellectual enjoyment will meet with objects suited to their elevation—and where the boundless desires which he is conscious of in this life, will meet with scenes of enjoyment as unlimited as those desires. It Was from this view of the subject under consideration, and proba- bly also from the strong impressions of the insufficiency •if the enjoyments of this life, that the grtfat Dr. Young exclaimed in his Night Thoughts—"man must be immortal, or heaven is unjust!" Do we not know per- fectly well, that when the physical calls of nature arc satisfied, lassitude and indifference succeed? Do we not also know, that when all the pleasures and enjoy- ments of this world are showered on us iu profusion, here still exists iu the human bosom,-.hopes and de- sires connected with sentiments of immortality, and ob- jects of a more elevated and intellectual order of enjoy- mentthan this world can afford? The fact is, that the de- sires, the capacities, and the hopes of man as to futurity when compared with the utter insufficiency of the objects wf enjoyment actually under his control in this life, go very far to demonstrate satisfactorily the immortality of man. Do the affections of the bruit for its offspring, like those of man for his relations and friends, survive, the flight of time, and contemplate a re-union of those, affections in another state of existence? The difference between the influence of reason and that of true religion. rn relation to the future happiness and enjoyments of man, may be satisfactorily explained in a few words. Ukasox teaches man merely to hope for immortal exist- ence and happiness, whilst pure Religion, supported hy faith in the redeemer, anil by the faithful practice of kis precepts, assures him of both future existence and future happiness. There is this further difference be- tween reason and religion, and I think it a very pal- pable and plaia one; reason cannot influence man's fee- OF THE PASSIONS. 81 ble hopes of immortality and future happiness, with sufficient motives for the practice of piety and virtue — whilst religion urges him imperiously to the perform- ance of his duties to his God, to himself, & to his fellow- beings, by the certainty of future rewards and punish- ments. These are the reasons why pure and genuine christians, I do not mean biggots, hypocrits, or intoler- ant fanatics, are better citizens, better husbands, and better parents, than most other men; and these are the reasons also, why they are the happier classes of man- kind. Reason may teach the existence of a great first cause, but it is utterly incompetent to disclosing his moral attributes of justice, love and mercy, or to defi- ning for man his particular and indispensible duties in every department of life. The precepts of religion are plain and easy of comprehension: they can be under- s'ood and practiced by all ranks and grades of men. Reason, on the other hand, in attempting an explanation ofthe attributes of God, or the duties of man to that God or his fellow creatures, is eternally operating on imaginary and unknown principles, and making hair- breadth distinctions, which have no existence but in the sound of words without meaning: the errors of reasou are founded in the ignorance of man, who knows noth- ing in reality ofthe essential or elementary principles of anyone thing in heaven or on earth. The scriptures says, and any man can understand the denunciation, "whoso shedeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." Now I would like to see the champion of reason, who can demonstrate satisfactorily that murder is a crime, and that it is punishable with death. Hut I will put another, and more general and coraprisive case, which will be quite sufficient. Municipal law is said to be founded on reason, which we call the mother of justice. If reason be an unerring sentinel, and if law be the perfection of reason, as it is said to be by- learned and profound civilians, why have not six thou- sand years of reasoning been sufficient to reduce haw to uuerring principles of justice; and why. at this late G* S3 OF THE PASSIONS, and reflned period of reason, do we so seldom find two persons "of council learned in the law," who agree in opinion respecting its real principles? The fact is, that in reasoning on all subjects involving morals, all we can possibly arrive at is a high degree of probability, which amounts to little more thau ingenius and plausi- ble conjecture. If the mere exercise of reason be entirely sufficient to disclose to man his duties, to impel him to the performance of those duties, and to satisfy him respecting the all-important doctrines of futurity, why have the advocates of mere reason somany doubts and difficulties on all these subjects:—the enigma is easily solved: the ignorance of man respecting first principles, the doubts he always entertains ofthe infal- libility of reasoning as a science, and the consciousness of being eternally liable to error in his rational deduc- tions, involve him in labyrinths of confusion and dis- may from which no merely human powers of intellect or genius can possibly extricate him. While in the rise or day spring of life; while enjoying uninter- rupted health and prosperity; and while indulging in an- ticipations of a protracted and fortunate term of exist- ence here, the lordly and proud advocate of the all suffi- ciency of reason, may indulge in theoretical speculations which he imagines he firmly believes in: but, let him become unfortunate in his adventures after earthly en- joyments, and infirm in his health; let his prospects of exemption from disease and misforione darken around him; and in this situation let him approach the unknown and mysterious confines of eternity. Where then wiH be his visionary and theoretical speculations respecting futurity; where the fortitude which ought to support Jrim in his discent to the cold and silent mansions of the dead; and where the celestial fire of hope and chris- tian consolation that alone can light him into eternal happiness, relieve his gloomy apprehensions of annihi- lation and shed even a splendor around the horrors of the grave? Puire and vital religion, sot that based on merely OF THE PASSIONS. &3 biggollcd and sectarian prejudices; or on frivulous and childish distinctions respecting rites and ceremonies, is infinitely superior to reason, in securing to man all Ihe moral enjoyments of this life, and in assuring him of those ble.-sings which reason only hopes for in futur- ity. By pure and vital religion, 1 do not mean hypoc- risy, which is the nligion of knavesfanatocism which is the r-ligion of madmen, fear which is the religion of cowardice, or superstition which is that of fools; I mean that pure and elevated sentiment of divine, love and admiration for the Dkity, which leads us to faith iu the great Redeemer of fallen and degraded man, and to the practice and benevolence, virtue, toleration, and chaiiiy for our fellow-beings. This divine and ennobling sentiment, when experienced in all its purity, banishes all the base, sordid, selfish, and ignoble, pas- sions from the human bosom, and elevates man us it were to a communion with bis maker. It cultivates all the finer affections of man for his fellow-beings; makes him a provident and tender parent; a chaste, and faith- ful husband; a kind and benevolent master, and use- ful, virtuous and patriotic citizen: it makes him faith- ful in his friendships, virtuons iu his loves, honest in his dealings, candid in his communications with man, kind, moderate in his desires, unostentatious in his char- ities, and tolerant in bis opinions. Fanatics, biggots, zealots, hypocrites, ye who practice fraud, violence, hypocrisy, and all the deceptions and mummery of priestcraft on the sons of men, and yet dare to call yourselves the disciples and followers of the immacu- late Saviour of mankind, compare yourselves with this portrait of a real christianl There is a class of reli- gionists in every christian country, who are impressed with the absurd opinion, that the profession of faith in particular sectarian creeds, and the practice of a few frivulous rites and ceremonies, are quite sufficient to entitle them to salvation. The probability is that these people are deceiving themselves, or making the profes- sion of religion a mere mask for iniquitous designs W OF THE FASHIONS. against the community; for, let their vicious pessiou* or propensities be excited, and themselves thrown off their guard, and you immediately discover the true state of the case; in fact you 6oon discover them to be sen- stialists, swindlers and hypocrites. These people ought always to bear in mind, that those alone are gen- uine christians, who know the will of God, and prac- tice its divine precepts; nor ought they ever to losa sight of the important and eternal truth—that it is impossible to deceive the Jllmiglxty.—Compared with these hypocritical and unwrorthy professors whose prayers are always on the "house tops," and whose devotions are loud and emphatical that they may ba heard, the true christian exhibits an essentially differ- ent and greatlyr more elevated character.—He is modest, retiring and unobtrusive in his devotions; it is not the mere profession of piety and religion, that stimulate! him in the performance of his duties—it is the heaven- born consciousness that his devotional exercises are acceptible to his maker, and that they will render him serene amidst dangers and difficulties, animated and cheerful under the infliction of disease and sickness, and resigned to the will of his Creator. To such a man, diseases, infirmities, and misfortunes in this life are nothing; he is above their influence: they can neith- er ruffle his passions, nor disturb the deep and settled serenety of his soul. The death-bed of such a man is not the death bed of the sinner: even the presence of the king of terrors cannot appal the resolutions, or shake the fortitude of the man whose reliance is on the love and mercy of his God. As a physician, I some years since, in Virginia, attended the couch of a devout christian, and a sincere believer in Christ; and was impressed with sentiments which can never be obliter- ated from my memory by the lapse of time. The patient was a poor Methodist preacher; he had been seriously and dangerously indisposed nearly two years; and was evidently awaiting the summon to "that borne from whnce no traveller returns.*' Instead of seeing terror OF THE PASSIONS. 83 and dismay depicted in his countenance, whiih I had often witnessed in the cases of those who were not christians, all was cheerful serenity and mild ie-io-na- tiou; no ghast'y expression of feature bespoke the terror of death, no indications of mental digress (old of remorse for an ill-spent life; nor did a single shade of gloomy anticipation, piss over the eye that was po »oon to close in the cold and silent mansions of the deaii! The last words of tlie innocent suSIVrir were, m,d they r.rc. deeply impressed on my memory:—*'My life has- been devoted to the service of my God, and to the bene- fit of my fellow beings; I await with perfect resigna- tion to his will, the call of my master/'----------line was an instance of the. consolatory influence of true religion, which ought to prove conclusively that it is connected with none of the gloomy end depressing pas-ions. Iu truth, it has always been a matter of mu< h astonish! lent to me. that the consolations whi; h puic i religion promises mankind in a future state of existence, could ever have produced on the mind of mi-n any oth- er impressions than those of cheerfulness, fortitude and resignation. I never could conceive how genuine reli- gion was connected, unless perverted to the. excitement ofthe gloomy passions, by misconception; of the attri- butes of God, with emotions of terror aud depressing apprehensions of futurity. Has man not assurances of an exemption from all the evils and calamith s of this life, if be b^ a faithful and tru e christian, in a more [ erfect and elevated sta'e- of being, whi n hi- corrup- tions shall put on iucorruption—and when- the mete mortal shall put on immortality? Are not the doctrines of true Christianity, essentially connected with that sun- shine of the breast, which we denominate a good con* sciences—"aud which nothing earthly can giv-, or can destroy,!'' The christian religion was never intended by the. Almighty, as a source of grief, morliucbion and miliVrng: it is a pure emanation of divine love and mercy towards feeble, ening and fallen mankind: and was surely intended by divine wisdorr., as an unfailing; S6 OF THE PASSIONS. nource of joy, consolation and happiness, both here and hereafter, to the human race! 1 have been more par- ticular on the subject of religion, than at first view might seem necessary to the interests of medical science; but I have been long convinced, that the sentiments wo entertain of a future life, are not only essentially con uected witli the moral condition of mankind, but with the health aud many of the diseases of the physical system, of which more will be said under the proper heads. INTEMPERANCE, Txtemperanck is the offspring of so many and such various causes, that it seems impossible to enumerate them, or even to reduce them to any thing like scientific order. I will commence ray remaVks on intemperance, which in its broadest signification means excess in the gratification of our propensities, passions, aud even intellectual pursuits, by emphatically observing that it h generally found in strong and intimate connexion, when really traced to its origin, with the pleasures and enjoyments; as well as with miseries and misfortunes of mankind. I have before remarked under another head, that with regard to the elementary principles of the passions, propensities, and intellectual powers of man, we know absolutely nothing with certainty; and that all we can possibly understand with respect to them, is derived from our consciousness of their exis- tence, and from the effects Jhey daily and hourly pro- duce, for our observation. Every capacity or power of the human system, physi- cal and intellectual, when exercised in moderation, and with strict conformity to the laws of nature, is produc- tive of enjoyment and happiness: tjiis natural and mod- erate exercise of our propensities, passions, and mental energies, when matured into habits of lifeandicharac- ter, we call temperance; and, it is the abusive degrada- OF THE PASSIONS. «T fion of those same intellectual powers, passions ami propensities, by their unrestrained and excessive indul- gence to the distinctions of health and happiw s, that we call intkmpkkavok. I will give some familiar ex- amples of the application of these principles, in order that they may be fully comprehended by those for whom I write. We are all liable to hunger and thirst;*&\\\\ all of us require sleep, for the renovation of our bodily and mental powers when fatigued. These are natural wants; and their gratifications are always es-ential to health and happiness. We all know perfectly well, for instance, that when we satisfy our hunger aud thirst in moderation, and renew the strength of our systems, of mind and body, by sleeping no more than the requisite time for producing those effects, the satisfaction of these natural wants invariably produces healthy action ot body and mind, attended with enjoyment and pleasure. Hut, on the other hand, when eating or drinknc:. w« overload aud surcharge the stomach with meat and drink, and when in sleeping take more repose than is required for the renovation of our bodily and mental system*, Hur excesses are always productive of nausea, uneasi- ness, indigestion, and stupidity, and we habitually become gluttons, drunkards and sluggards, and ar« a disgrace to ourselves and society.—The same doctnn* and mode of reasoning may be applied to the passions of mankind. When they are indulged in with natural moderation, and never suffered to run into not and excess they are always conducive to health; and pro- ductive of many ofthe enjoyments and pleasures id life; but, when thev gain the ascendency of the moral feelings and rational powers, when they prostrate tire bulwarks of religion and morality, and are indulged in all their debasing and destructive excesses, the progress of the passions proclaims the premature decay ot health, strength, and happiness—and emphatically announces to'the unfortunate victims of excess, that thev are fatten indeed! In truth, what has just beeu remarked with regard to the natural wants and passions F$ OF THE PASSIONS. of men, may with strict justice be applied to the lofty and powerful ei.ergies of the mind itself. It has been truly remarked by an acute and profound investigator of the faculties of the mind, that ''he who things with great inien^eness, and profundity wiil not continue to do so for many successive years''—and in proof of this I will note some instances which will have much weight in demonstrating the fic-t. Sir Isaac Newton, who was probably the greatest astronomer and mathemati- cian of his own or any other age, several years previous to the cl )se of his life, was utterly unable to compre- hend thii meaning of his own works; in addition to which I will notic'. as a well authenticated fact, that the celebrated Dean Swift, the energies of whose mind were inferior to those of no literary mm of tiie same age, several years previous to his death became a dri- veller, an i confirmed idiot. Whether it be true, that intense, subtile, and powerful iiitel ect, acts upon the mere carcass as a sharp sword does upon the scabbard: or whether the mind itself becomes exhausted and worn out, by an overstrained and continued excitement of iu powers, I leave, for metaphysicians to determine:—but we certainly do know, and the experience of all age* and generations proves the fact, that excessive mental exertion not only produces fatigue and lassitude in a lew hours, but that if such exertion be. continued for a few years iu succession, it invariably blun»s and wears down the keenest and soundest intellectual ener- gies of man. The broad and comprehensive view I have just given of temperance and intemperance, in regard to the physical wants, passions, and intellectual powers of man, I believe, to be the only correct expo- sition on general principles that can be given; becausa il embraces all the destructive excesses to which man i« prone, and refers all those excesses, to the a&wses and degradations of his elevated and noble faculties. 1 commenced with remarking, and I wish tb^e princi- ple to be kept in view by the reader, that the vices of intemperance when fairly traced to their origin, will OF THE PASSIONS. 89 always be found in connexion with the enjoyments and pleasures, as well as with the miseries and misfortunes of mankind. Mankind may be distinguished into two great classes or divisions: First, those whose pleasures and enjoy- ments, and whose pains and miseries, partake so great- ly of a physical character, as nearly always to lie ref- ferable to corporeal or bodily functions and sensations: this class is composed of men who are properly denom- inated sknsualists; iu other words, they aie individ- uals who can only be rendered happy or miserable through the medium of the senses. Second, those whose general characters partake more of the nature and habitual influence of the intellectual powers, and iff the emotions and passions of the mind: and whoso enjoyments, pleasures, sufferings and miseries, are more intimately connected with the mind and imagina- tion; these may with much propriety be denominated mentamsts. Among the great aggregate of mankind, the reality of the distinction between animal and intel- lectual man, as regards the native bias of the human character towards one or the other extreme, is demon- strable from the following facts. Hunger and thirst, for instance, are corporeal wants; they are essential to the health, strength and support of the physical or bodily system, and may be called corporeal or bodily passions, when they become so powerful as to impel men to gluttony and drnnkeuness:—desires and pro- pensities being nothing more, when considered in rela- tion to the corporeal system, than slighter shades of the physical wants aud passions of man. Love and ambition, on the contrary, are passions of the mind and imagination; thqy are the offspring of refined sen- sibility, and deep-toned energies of intellectual charac- ter; and when acting in their native sphere, are so far abstracted from all corporeal considerations, that they only occasionally act on the physical wants and pas- sions, and then only for the attainment of specific objects. When the passion of love, for instance, is 90 OF THE PASSIONS. directed to the perpetuation of the human species, which I will remark, in passing, was not the case in the love which existed between Jonathan and David, the intellectual passion of love only acts on the sexual and corporeal functions: hut, I would ask any sceptic on this point, whether the love of literature, mathematics astronomy, or any other science or intellectual pursuit, has any connection whatever with propensities, wants and passions founded on the merely corporeal or bodily functions of mankind. And surely it will not be ques- tioned, that the food and'uourishment required for exer- cising, giving pleasure to, and strengthening the mind, are essentially different from those required for the sus- tenance, health, and strength ofthe body: and we all know perfectly well, in reference to the corporeal and intellectual functions and capacities of men, that the strong predominance of either class operates unfavora- bly and sometimes destructively to the other. The f.ct is, that we often limes find the loftiest and strong- est passions and mental energies, connected with deli- cate and sometimes feeble corporeal organization, debil- ity of stomach, and prostration of strength: nor is it unusual to observe, that those, who possess uncommonly high health and physical strength, are frequently iu the other extreme, as regards the exercise of tho mind and passions. Hut further; every man who has acquired any experience, respecting those states of the physical system, when the mind and passions act with the great- est force, must know that a full stomach always bluuts th< mind and feelings; and that inanition or emptiness of he stomach, is favorable to intellectual operations. Ti is fact is so well known that the Creek Indians, in all their public deliberations on important national con-'erns, use vvhat they call the black drink, made of tl e parched leaves ofthe spice-wood boiled, which vomits them copiously and produces the inanition just mentioned; without which, they alledge they are in- adequate to deliberating on their national affairs. Soma medical writer has remarked, that physical debility, OF THE PASSIONS. 91 aftd a diseased state of the system, impart, as it were, preternatural excitement to the mind; and instances tin* eases of Boilieu, Erasmus, Pascal, Cicero, Galba, Pope, and several others, who were as remarkable for their feebleness of their physical constitutions, as they were for their gigantic energies of intelhct: th« ■ame writer also remarks, that abortive, feeble, and *ickly children, almost invariably display powerful characteristics of intellect when grown to maturity : and instances the cases of the great Lord Littleton and Airs. Ferguson, both of whom were seven months' children: to which he might have added the case of Kichard the Third, who according to Shakespeare account, was "deformed, unfinished, and sent into this breathing world scarce half made up." On the oilier hand, it has frequently been remarked by men of acuta and scrutinizing minds, that high health, great corpo- real strength, and uncommon muscularity of frame, are seldom remarkable for subtile and profound genius, or for an attachment to purely intellectual pursuits. This is so notoriously true, that the opinions generally formed by the vulgar, of the persons of men who ara conspicuous and renowned for great intellectual powers, are almost invariably the very reverse of What may b«* called the corporeally contemptible realities. In demon- stration of this fact, innumerable instances may b« given in addition to those found in the persons of Alex- ander of Macedon, Frederick, King of Prusia, John Philpot Currau, Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Andrew Jackson, L lastely the late emperor Napoleon, who was nicknam- ed by his own soldiers, irom his contemptible stature and proportions, the little corporal. I will here make an observation on this subject, which 1 do not recollect to have seen in any writer. We are always to presume, that the soundness and strength ofthe physical consti- tutions of men, lead to great longevity or length of diys: and it is a fact as notorious as true, that such men are seldom or never possessed of much mind; in other 93 OF THE PASSIONS. words, the sword is not sufficiently sharp to cut the scabbard. I am acquainted with a man, a pauper, of this county, who is said from good authority, to be one hundred and ten years of age, who I was informed on enquiry, never even in thti meridian of life had more than a very ordinary mind; and Thomas Pane, who died in London on the 16th November, 1635, aged one hundred and fifty-two years, it is said, was greatly noted for having been a man as remarkable for his defi- ciency of mental energies, as for his lascivious and sensual propensities. ''It was observed of him," says the London Medical Museum, "that he used to eat often, both by night and by day. taking up with ohl cheese, milk, coarse bread, small beer, and whey; and which is more remarkable, he ate at midnight, a little before he died. Being opened after his death, his body was still found very fleshy:—his breast hairy: his gen- itals unimpaired, which served to confirm the report of his having undergone public censures for his ineontin- ency,'" &c. &c. I would by no means wish to be understood, that there are no individuals possessed of high health and great physical strength, who are remar- kable for strong intellectual powers; Newton, John- son, Shakespear, & a thousand of other instances might be given as exceptions to the general rule just noticed; but we are all well convinced not only that high health and strength, lead to corporeal amusements and pursuits unfavorable to intellectual improvement: but that debil- ity and disease act in various ways extremely favorable to accessions of mental strength. In the first place, de- bility and disease lower the tone of those passions which impel us to active exertion and amusement; in other words, they impose a powerful restraint on the physical appetites and propensities—circumscribe us to amuse- ments and pursuits connected with the operations ofthe mind, confine us to the company of our elders, whose superior experience and knowledge are beneficial to our intellectual improvement; and "by keeping up an action iu the brain, in common with other parts OF THE PASSIONS. 98 trf the body, they tend to impart vigor to the intellec- tual faculties." From what has been said, I think it will appear evi- dent, that from both natural and accidental circum- stances, there is a distinction to be drawn between those men whose pleasures and pains are connected with physical or corporeal character, and those w boss enjoyments ami miseries are more intimately associated with the powers and passions of the mind; and it was for these reasons that I alledged in the outset, not only that intemperance was the offspring of various physi- cal and intellectual causes, but thai when traced to its origin, would generally be found in strong and inti- mate connexion, as well with the pleasures and enjoy- ments, as with the miseries and misfortunes of mankind. This is a view of the subject of intemperance ami its cau- ses, which I presume, has never before been taken by any writer; and although it must of/iecessity, like eve- ry thing else human, be subject to imperfections both in data and conclusions, yet it may have some salutary (cndeocies. It may possibly invite the attention of the learned, to further and more satisfactory investigations of the subject; it may exhibit the necessity of seeking for the real causes of intemperance, in removing its habits and effects from the human system; and it may invite society to the exercise of more lenity and compas- sion, when laboring for the reformation of its unfortu- nate and melancholy victims.—Abuse and degradation were never yet influential in reforming the intemperate; for, what interest did any man ever yet feel, for the pre- servation of that which he has been convinced, by abuse and degradation, was of no estimation or value! Intem- perance is confined to no rank in life: to no particular grade of genius and intellectual power, between a Socrates and an idiot; it is found in the hut ofthe savage, the haunts of the learned, the hovel of the beg- gar, and in the palaces of kings; its causes are as vari- ous as the capacities of man'for enjoyments and pleas- ures, and as multiplied as the various miseries II* 91 OF THE PASSIONS. misfortunes to which he is subjected through life: what a furce then it must be, for any physician to attempt to remove the different causes of intemperance, without knowing what those causes are, and by the application of owe specific remedy to such an infinite variety of cau- K"s.—Would you attempt to remove diseases of the mind, by merely physical remedies? Would you, on the other hand, hope for the removal of merely corporeal diseases, by the application of intellectual means? A>\ ould you sooth the mental anguish of remorse, with- out the consolations of religion, and assurances of divine forgiveness? Would you, in other words, attempt to destroy a poisonous variety of plants, without striking at the roots of their existence and vitality. The mere pleasures of sense, as well as those of the intellect, are susceptible of being rendered more intense, by the application of stimulants; in the varied and end- less catalogue of stimulating powers, are to be found all the great allurements to dissipation and confirmed intem- perance; but it will hardly be contended, that one grade of stimulants, possesses the same strength and adaptation of allurement, with all the varieties of man- kind. Physically speaking, one man's system is exci- ted to pleasurable sensations by snuff, the system of ano- ther by tobacco, of another by wine, of a fourth by spir- its and opium, ofafifth by a highly seasoned and stimu- lating food, &c, &c; and we are all perfectly aware, that a persistency in the use of any or all the above stimulants, will sometimes degenerate into a confirmed habit of intemperance in their use, too strong for the restraint of either the moral or intellectual energies of the self devoted victims. You will frequently hear the devotees of any or all the above excesses, execra- ting the very agents they employ in wearing down their constitutions with incidental diseases and premature decay, and moralizing with the finest touches of elocu- tion, on the heinousness and immorality of such dan- gerous and degrading excesses; and what does all this prove? Why it demonstrates conclusively, that the » ' OF THE PASSIONS. 05 habits of dissipation and intemperance, like all other derelictions from the standard of nature and philosophic moderation, are to be resisted in their first formation. and before they can acquire the resistless force of tor- rents, before which all human resolutions, and efftrts of preservation, sink to rise uo more! There are two periods of human life: there are two marked and dis- tinct periods in the. progressive excesses of dissipation and intemperance. In the rise of life, we act upon ev- ery thing around us, from a confidence in our own strength and a consciousness of heing able to masterand shape our own destinies: in the decline of life, when the physical. moral, and mental energies begin to fail, we act upon less resolute and less confidential principles; in other words we merely act on the defensive, and n ,nrt to expedients for warding offdiseases, dangers and death. These two periods are strongly marked in the lives and characters of all men; from the General, who achieves victories in his youth, and sustains defeats in his old age, to the man of intellectual powers and pursuits, who. like the immortal Milton, writes a "Paradise. I,o-t." iu the meridian of life and intellectual resolution and a "Paradise Regained," when the tremors of old age and irresolution, have crept over him. This is a faith- ful picture of a man of dissipation and intemperance.— At first he adventures on an excess, partly from the attractive force of the allurement, and partly from the consciousness of moral and intellectual resolution to wii h- stand any temptation to dangerous indulgence. In the formation of intemperate habits, this is precarious and hostile ground; the scripture says, "let him who stands, take heed lest he fall." The habit of intem- perance is of slow or rapid growth, in proportion to the strength or weakness of our resolution to withstand temptation. Where many and strong motives combine to retard our progress in excesses of intemperance, we advance slowly and almost imperceptibly to self-de- struction. When the animations of youth, and the convi- vialities of conversation, arc sufficient for the production 06 OF THE PASSIONS. of pleasurable sensations: when we are highly suscep* tible of impressions from the varied charms of nature; and while the brilliant prospects of a long and animated life, seem "to bid an eternal Eden smile around us," temptations to degrading intemperance are only those which enhance the intensity of other pleasures. But in proportion as all these fairy prospects fade on the vision; in proportion as the repetition of these enjoy- ments causes us to lose the sentiment of novelty, and especially when satiety of such enjoyments produces lassitude and coldness, we invariably descend to mora sensual and intense expedients, for renewing sensations »f pleasure: and unfortunately for mankind, those expedients are too often connected with the dissipations and intemperance of the glutton, the epicure, the opium- eater, and the drunkard. This descent to confirmed habits of intemperance in all its varied stages of degra- dation need not be delineated; these graduated debase- ments are visible in every department of society, and are so common, as almost every where to have lost their novelty and impression. I have not yet spoken of those dissipations, which seem to be connected with the energies and passions of the mind; and compared with which, the intemperate excesses of the mere animal appetites and passions of man, dwindle into a comparatively insignificant and ordinary character. Where the character of an indi- vidual is decidedly intellectual, there always will be discovered at an early period of life, a strong native propensity to an indulgence in intellectual pleasures, and in those passions which are more closely allied to the mental powers. I mean here those pleasures of the mind, which have their rise in the memory, the understanding, the imagination, &c. and those which are the offspring of an indulgence in the passions of the mind, which we call love, hope, ambition , &c. With regard to the pleasures of mkmory, they are as various and unlimited as the objects by which we are surrounded in nature; they comprize every thing cog- OF THE PASSIONS. 97 wizablo by all the senses of man, the impression of which can be stamped upon the retentive faculty; and they embrace also, those recollections of our own con- duct, which are fraught with the pleasures of a good conscience. It is absolutely impossible to define or limit the pleasures of memory, they embrace our parents, our early friends, and all the objects of our yonthfui attachment: the, Ionises in wdiich we were born and educated, the haunts of our youthful and innocent diver- sions, and all the objects of our early pursuits! The pleasures of memory aisoeomprise, all we have learned of the heroism, the magnamity, and the intelligencu of the i:rrat warriors and sages of antiquity: they in fact einhrace all the recollections of the mind, in its recognizance of all the objects and events which have ever been pleasing to us, and they particularly afford us happiness from a review of a well-spent life. But are there not pains, as well as pleasures of memory?— There are; and here commences the catalogue ofuis«i- pation, the first impulse to which is to be found in the mind. Was it an inherent baseness and brutality of native character, that rendered Robert Burns iuteni- perate? Was it a bestial love of the liquid poison which finaly destroyed him, that originated and con- firmed those habits of intemperance which sent him to an early grave? No: his dissipations commenced in the convivialities and pleasures of a refined, delicate and superior mind; and were confirmed into habits of intemperance too stubborn for the control of his moral energies, by the lowliness of his fortunes, the poignancy and vulgarity of his sufferings, and the pains of hi* memoryl Why do we see a man like this, the prey of a morbid and confirmed melancholy?—And why do we hear him warbling forth his distress, when contem- plating objects yet dear and painful to his memory, in the following inspired end tender strains: "Ye mind me •f departed hours—departed, never to return!" The fate of Robert Burns, has been the fate of thousands irhose names, are lost to fame, aud who have sunk into 9S OF THE PASSIONS. obscure and lonely graves, unpitied and unknown.— T.omas Paine once remarked, that one of the greatest miseries of human life, consisted in not being able to forget what it was painful to remember. Mr. Paine's character was highly intellectual; his whole life had been devoted to conferring political benefits and moral miseries on mankind; and it is not merely possible, but highly probable, that the desertions of society on account of all his theological writings, and the pains of his memory, led to those confirmed habits of dissipation and intemperance, which ultimately destroyed him.— But, the instances just submitted to the reader, are but two out of thousands which might be adduced, to prove the influence of the pains of memory, in originating and confirming fatal habits of dissipation and intemper- ance. How many millions have sunk into the vortex of intemperance, from the influence of those pains of memory, called an accusing conscience? Physician— "canst thou minister to a mind diseased," by medical prescriptions which can only affect the body? The pleasures and pains of the understanding come next under consideration; and presents such a field for the investigation of philosophy, as can only be delineated in outline. Curiosity is the first passion, or rather emotion of the human understanding; it leads the mind to the investigation and scrutiny of all the objects of nature and art which present themselves to man, betwixt the cradle and the grave: the emotion or passion of curiosity does more: it leads us to the investigation of objects beyond the boundaries of time, and impels us to attempt a revelation of the great enigmas of eternity itself! The mind of man is natu- rally attached to truth, and always experiences pleas- ure in the discovery of it, when the disclosure is found beneficial to comfort, health, fame, or enjoy- ments of