PfWii!;!ii-!.*alPiii MATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDIUM ^>f5 ' f I ""-ft ^ NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINJ ' I ^^k 3NIDIQ3W jo Aavaan ivnoiivn 3nidiq3w jo Aavaan ivnoiivn snidiosw jo Aavaan ivnoiiw NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINi! 'X ^ * fa 3NiDia3w jo Aavaan ivnoiivn snidiosw jo Aavaan ivnoiivn u snidiosw jo Aavaan ivnoiih /v^' **- >-^/\ ^ /^^ %a-' ®- /\ * yw *•• '* ^ NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDIC* I -e I ,4-V* 3NOI03W jo Aavaan ivnoiivn snidiqsw jo Aavaan ivnoiivn gNOiasw jo Aavaan "ivnoi/* NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDIC*1 Pi- J P 11^%^ I % /" Diasw jo Aavaan tvnoiivn snidicisw jo Aavaan ivnoiivn 3NOia3w jo Aavaan ivnoiivn i Cm TIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE ^"V **- -&s I- ^V i 'M^ p DI03W dO Aava-31"! IVNOIIVN 3NIDia3W dO AHVHfln IVNOIIVN dNIDIOdW dO AHVHfln IVNOIIVN IE TIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE " NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE Cr** iDiasw jo Aavaan tvnoiivn 3Nma3w jo Aavaan ivnoiivn 3nidiq3w jo Aavaan tvnoiivn TIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE iDiasw jo Aavaan tvnoiivn snidicisw jo Aavaan tvnoiivn snidiosw jo Aavaan tvnoiivn TIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE / Diasw jo Aavaan tvnoiivn snidiosw jo Aavaan tvnoiivn 3nidici3w jo Aavaan tvnoiivn TIONAL LIBRARY OF MEDICINE NATIONAL LIBRARY OF " = RECOMMENDATIONS. Loaisitlle, Nov. 18, 1839. John C. Gunn, M.D.—I have, with pleasur^ perused the work of Dr. John C. Gunn, entitled "Domestic MedicuiA; or, the Poor Man's Friend :" and having had the experience of nearHforty years' practice of Medicine myself, I feel satisfied that but few Uany medical works contain more valuable and useful practical remarks,w comprise a more plain and concise method of treating diseases. It istruly suited to the plainest understanding, and well calculated to be insn-mental in reliev- ing the sufferings of thousands. Wm. Ochran, M.D. Louisville, Deccmth- \\^ 1839. To Dr. John C. Gunn.—I have examined " Gunn's Lrncstic Medi- cine," and consider it a valuable compendium of the app\vej moc|efn practice of physic, simplified and divested of technicality^ a decree that better .adapts it to the use of families than any work\* tne ^n^ within my knowledge. Wm. A. M'Dowej\ m.D. Ve Dr. J. C. Gunn.—Dear Sir:—I have examined with \e y0lir " Domestic Medicine and Poor Man's Friend." It contains a^mpre. hensive description of the diseases incident to the United S^s? as also the remedies to be employed ; and with pleasure reconimeUt t0 all families, as being the established practice of the profession. \ Respectfully, your ob't serv't. \ . Louisville, Dec. 9, 1839. J. W. Knight, M.\ Louisville, Ky., Dec. 9, 1839: Dr. J. C. Gunn.—Dear Sir:—I have examined your medical wov ." Gunn's Domestic Medicine, or Poor Man's Friend," and unhesitating^ advance the opinion that it is better calculated for the use of planter*, families, &c, than any work of the kind extant, and take great plea-\ sure in recommending its general use. Respectfully, yours, John M. Talbot, M.D. To J. C. Gunn, M.D.—My dear Sir:—I have examined your "Domestic Medicine, or Poor Man's Friend," and find it, in my opi- nion, a most valuable work of the kind, and well suited to the use of families, and for planters;—a work containing, in plain language, di- rections for the treatment of disease, conformable to the most approved practice of modern times. Yours, respectfully, Louisville, Ky., Nov. 30, 1839. I. Vail, M.D 2 T)r J C Gunn.—Having examined the general arrangement or Gunn'; Domestic Medicinl or Poor Man's Friend," and lookea somewhat minutely into a few of it. detail. I can ?^™f£™ state that it appears to me to be a highly useful popular ~™P^ « the modern practice o< physic, in 'a dress well adapted to the wants, of individuals on plantations, and other country situations, remote irom the regular faculty. G. E. Pendergrast, M.D. Louisville, Dec. \ 1839. Louisville, Dec. 10, 1839. To Dr. John 0 Gunn.—I have looked into " Gunn's Domestic Medicine'" and insider it a plain practical work, well adapted to the purposes for wh5n *tis designed, and will be found a valuable assist- ant to families i any sudden emergency, and in all situations where regular professjnal attendance cannot be commanded. ° Llewellyn Powell, M.D. Dr J. cGi'nn.—I have attentively perused " Gunn's Domestic Medicine.' I consider it the best popular work extant. It is the phi- losophy ome(j*c*ne- divested of its scholastic technicalities. No family possessir tn^s W0T*k will, in ordinary cases, have occasion to give away nr*1 ra°ney to a physician. James R. McConockie, M.D. Honorary Member of the Medical Society of Philadelphia. j) Gunn.—I have examined " Gunn's Domestic Medicine, or p0, Man's Friend," and have no hesitation in stating it will be sig- n3' productive of good to all who may use it, as was the design of tj.author; which was, that its instructions should not beget too much ,ifidence in the discriminating judgment of those who consult it, and ereby prevent the timely reference to the skilful living physician of nportant or obscure cases, but be regarded as a directory in all ordi- nary diseases, before it becomes expedient to call a medical adviser. The style of the work is good, indeed fine, and the author entitled tc much praise for the labour and research he has bestowed upon it. The work, likewise, though disclaiming originality, is so, in several -particulars. B. H. Hall, M.D. Formerly a Member of the Board of Faculty, and lute Resident Physician and Surgeon of the Louisville M. Hospital. Louisville, Dec. 17, 1839. Louisville, Ky., Dec. 6, 1839. Dr. Gunn —Dear Sir:—By your favour I have had an opportunity of examining your work entitled " Gunn's Domestic Medicine," and j im happy to state that I am much pleased at the manner in which it js prepared and got up; and furthermore, so far as my judgment ex- pends, I would recommend it to private families as a very useful book. * Respectfully, vours, H. M. Wakefield, M.D 3 Louisville, Dec. 11, 1839. J. C. Gunn, M.D.—Dear Sir:—Having examined your "Domes- tic Medicine, and Poor Man's Friend," I state with pleasure, that it is a compend of the practice of medicine, containing very much invalua- ble medical knowledge, and is well calculated for the perusal of all planters and farmers, who may, by following the directions therein given, not only save much expense, but be instrumental in saving many lives. The directions are plain, and the practice scientific, safe, and valuable. J. W. Brite, M.D. Louisville, Dec. 17, 1839. ■ John C. Gunn, M.D.:—1 have examined "Gunn's Domestic Medicine," and cheerfully recommend it as a useful and safe guide in the practice of medicine on modern principles, simplified and adapted to the comprehension of non-professional readers, &c. A. P. Elston, M.D. Louisville, Dec. 17, 1839 Dr. J. C. Gunn.—Dear Sir :—I have the satisfaction to inform you of my very favourable opinion of the arrangement and contents of your Domestic Medicine. I feel confident that the value of it will be as justly appreciated by private families, &c. &c, as by your friend, &c. &c. W. C. Galt, M.D. PROFESSORS IN THE LOUISVILLE MEDICAL INSTITUTE. Dr. J. C. Gunn :—I have examined " Gunn's Domestic Medicine," and find it a plain work, valuable for families in many cases of emer- gency, when a regular physician or surgeon cannot be procured. J. Cobb, M.D., Professor of Anatomy in the Louisville Medical Institute. Louisville, Dec. 13, 183'J. Louisville, Dec. 19, 1839. Dear Sir:—I have looked through the revised edition of your work, and am pleased to see in it many things calculated to make it useful as a book of reference in domestic medicine. Respectfully, &c, I am yogrs, C. W. Short, M.D., Professor of Materia Medica in the Louisville Medical Institute. Doct. Gunn. J. C. Gunn, M.D.—Sir:—Your "Domestic Medicine" is not onlv an imposing work in its exterior, but embraces much knowledge, which must prove valuable to families residing in remote neighbour*- 4 hoods, where medical practitioners are inaccessible. }* embraces vast amount of information relative to all the "ills which flesh is heir to," together with a list of the best remedies, their doses &c. witn wishes for your success, I am, very respectfully X^^^^^JJ^. Professor of Chemistry in the Louisville Medical Institute. Louisville, Dec. 19, 1839. Doct. Gunn.—Dear Sir:—Having perused your " Domestic Medi- cine " I take great pleasure in commending it to non-professional readers as an excellent guide in cases where the services of regularly educated practitioners cannot be readily procured. As a book of refer- ence it is plain and intelligible to the comprehension of the general reader, and the work, in short, is presented in a form which reflects much credit on the taste of its author. Respectfully, &c, your ob't serv't, W. H. Donne, Demonstrator of Anatomy in the Louisville Medical Institute. State of Kentucky, City of Louisville. I, Fred. A. Kaye,r Mayor of the City of Louisville, do hereby cer- tify, that the gentlemen, who have certified to the above, are resident physicians and surgeons of the City of Louisville, and are all person- ally known to me, with the exception of Dr. McConockie. %*-****-*££ In testimony whereof 1 have hereunto set my name, 5 L. S. £ and caused the seal of the corporation to be affixed, this $>rinnn& 29th day of April, 1840. Fred. A. Kaye, Mayor. Copied from the certificates of Drs. M'Dowell and Withers, St. Louis, Missouri. I have examined Dr. Gunn's work on the Practice of Medicine, designed for the use of families, and consider it valuable. Such a book in the hands of those remote from physicians cannot fail to be of great service. I would commend it to the use of families generally. With respect, Jo. N. McDowell, M. D. Honorary Member of the Philadelphia Medical Society, late Professor of Special Anatomy in the Cincinnati College, and Professor ot Anatomy and Surgery in Kemper College, St. Louis. St. Louis, Sept. 5, 1840. Upon a full examination of Dr. Gunn's Medical Work, I am per- fectly satisfied that it will add much to the health and happiness of the community at large : I therefore recommend to all those who have not purchased a copy, to obtain one so soon as they can. L. A. Withers, M. D. GUNN'S DOMESTIC MEDICINE, OR POOR MAN'S FRIEND, IN THE HOURS OF AFFLICTION, PAIN- AND SICKNESS. THIS BOOK POINTS OUT, IN PLAIN LANGUAGE, FREE FROM DOCTORS' TERMS, THE DISEASES OF MEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN, AND THE LATEST AND MOST APPROVED MEANS USED IN THEIR CURE, AND IS INTENDED EXPRESSLY FOR THE BENEFIT OF FAMILIES. IT ALSO CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF THE MEDICINAL ROOTS AND HERBS OF THE UNITED STATES, AND HOW THEY ARE TO BE USED IN THE CURE OF DISEASES. ARRANGED ON A NEW AND SIMPLE PLAN, BT WHICH THE PRACTICE OF MEDICINE IS RF.DVCED TO PRINCIPI.T-? OP COMMON SF.IWE. **» Why should we conceal from mankind that which relieve* the distresses of our fellow-beingal -*» ■. x 6 •*-*• if-.- FIRST REVISED EDITION, ENLARGED IN 1840. PUBLISHED BY B. J, WEBB & BRO., FOR THE PROPRIETORS, 1844. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1840, by G. V. Raymond, for the proprietors, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. /\nviex WB 120 G-976J I &*H J. TAN COURT, PRINTER, *)UARRY STREET, NEAR SECOND, PHILAD. 9 INDEX. % ABQRTION Accidents, ordinary compound After-pains Ague and Fever - Alum root Aloetic mixture Amputation of the arm of the thigh - of the leg of the forearm of the fingers and toes Anger ... Anodynes Antispasmodics Apoplexy Asthma - BATH, WARM OR TEPID Cold - Sulphur Balm - - Beer for consumption Blackberry, common Bloodroot Bloodletting Bone-set Burns - ' - Butterfly'weed BucjLu leaves CATARRH OR COLDS - Catheter, use of - Canjer Canfer root , Camomile Cas'or oil - Canphorated powder and Julep Centaury (American) Cb/olic (ordinary) - during pregnancy - in children Cholera morbus - epidemic - infantum - Page 505 828 861 531 191 636 796 863 866 866 867 868 31 767 767 380 388 160 168 174 662 819 656 663 738 652 833 680 734 341 366 451 651 657 704 797 687 210 494 597 213 216 608 .8 4 INDEX. Chills ------ Page 530 Childbed fever ------ **J> Chirayita herb ----- 7|jj Citric acid and carbonate of soda - - " „ ;„„ Cbp......*^*H Colchicum seed, tincture of '°„ Columbo 662 Cologne water ------ 8°0 Consumption ------ 290 Corns -.....- 456 Constant desire to make water during pregnancy - - **9° Constipation ------ 596 Convulsions or fits - - - - " ®"2 Contusion or blow - - - - -831 Concussion of the brain ----- 832 Compression of do. - - •• - ^33 Cramp.......497 Croup......- 604 Croton oil - - - - - - 798 DISEASES OF WOMEN - - - - 458 of children ----- 583 Dittany ------- 649 Directions for preserving roots, flowers, and barks - 736 Dispensatory - - - - - -754 Dislocations, generally ----- 856 of the lower jaw - 857 of the shoulder - ■ - - 857 of the collar bone - 858 of the elbow - - - - 858 of the wrists, fingers, &c. - - - 858 of the thigh ----- 859, of the knee pan - - - . - 8#0 of the leg - - - - /860 of the foot - - - - - 861 Dogwood - - - - - -.A 634 Drinking cold water, effects of - - - i? 338 Drops of life - - - - - - f 794 Dropsy - - - - - - * - ' 344 Dyspepsia - - - - - - c 280 Dysentery or flux - - - - - l 322 Diarrhoea or looseness - 621*, 325 EARACHE -.....400 Eating snuff - - - - - - 801 Emetics ------- 755 Emetine ------- 797 Epilepsy ------- 382 Eruptions of the skin r 369 Ether, sulphuric ------ 765 Exercise - - - - - - -153 INDEX. 5 Exercise of children - Page 592 FALSE PAINS IN PREGNANCY - - 501 Faintings after delivery - - - - . •■ 530 i Falling of the palate - - - - - 807 f Fear - - - - - - 26 Fever, general remarks on - - - - 185 bilious ------ 197 nervous - - - - - - 202 scarlet - - - - - * 207 in children - ... - 607 Flooding - - - - - . * - 502 Food ------- 177 Friction - - - - - 750 Fractures (generally) ----- 848 of the bone of the nose - 848 of the lower jaw - - - - 848 of the collar bone - 849 of the arm - 850 of the forearm - - • - - - 850 of the wrist . - - - 851 of the ribs ----- 851 of the thigh - - - - - 852 of the foot - - 855 GINSENG......637 Ginger...... 696 Gleet.......438 Glysters.......762 Green sickness - - - - - -469 Grief.......67 Gravel ------- 354 HARTSHORN, SPIRITS OF - - - - 765 Harrowgate salt^artificial - - - - - 791 Headach 4.....- 399 Heartburn ------ 496 Hope ------- 28 Horsemint __---- 703 Hysteria ...--- 543 Hydrophobia - - - - - -812 INFLAMMATION OF THE STOMACH - - 326 of the bowels - , - - - 328 ' of the brain - ' - - - 330 'of the spleen - - - 333 of the kidneys - - - 334 of the bladder - - - - 336 of the lungs - - - - 805 in child-bed - - - - 531 in the breasts of women - - - 532 Intemperance ------ 78 Jndian physic ------ 676 A2 6 INDEX. Indian turnip m m . Page 685 Iodine . • ^ . . - 793 Ipecacuanha _ _ _ - - 658 American . _ . . - 677 Issues ^ _ . - 751 Itch m m m . - 378 JAMESTOWN WEED . ^ _ _ - 628 Jalap . . _ . - 682 Jaundice - . m _ . - 808 Jealousy - _ _ . . - 36 Jerusalem oak . . _ . - 648 Joy . m m . _ 29 KING'S EVIL _ m m . . 809 LABOUR, ordinary - . . . - 511 difficult . . . . - 517 directions after . . „ _ - 526 Leeches - . . . „ . 820 Liver, diseases of . . _ . . 303 Liverwort *- _ . . . 779 Liquorice . . _ _ . 795 Love . . _ m . 49 Locked jaw . . m m _ 450 Lochia . - V m _ . 529 Lobelia inflata . . m . . 688 MALFORMATION . m „ _ . 589 Materia Medica - . . m _ . 622 May apple . . m . _ 649 Manna . . m m . 671 Menses or courses - _ m _ _ 461 obstructed - . . . . _ 465 great flow of - - . «. . 471 cessation of - . . „ _ 473 Meconium . _ m J* 588 Measles - . . m . 614 Mercury - - . „ m 777 Midwives, directions for - . m m 520 Milk fever - - . _ „ 533 Morphine - - _ m _' 779 acetate of - . m _■ 782 Mortification - . « m 814 of wounds - - - _ # Kt"9 Mumps - - . . . . 401 Mustard seed, white - . _ 705 NIGHTMARE . . m 811 OINTMENTS - . _ _ m 774 Opium - - . . . 697 Otto of roses, how made . . _ . 800 PASSIONS, TREATISE ON - _ . _ 25 Palsy - - - - - r^f INDEX. 7 Pains of the face - - . . 4 Page 447 in the head during pregnancy - . 495 Peppermint - - .' . . 695 Piles (generally) - - ' - . . . 394 during pregnancy - - - - . 500 Pleurisy - - - - - . 350 Pox - . . . 425 , 427 Poisons - . . m . 440 Pregnancy - - . . . 481 signs of - - . . . 486 cautions duripg - . . . 488 diseases of . . _ m 490 Prickly ash . . „ m 683 Pulse . . . . 189 Putrid sore throat - - . . . 396 Purgatives, active - . . . . 759 laxative . . . m 761 QUININE, SULPHATE OF . _ . 792 RELIGION . . „ m 108 Red gum - - . . . . 594 Rheumatism . „. . _ m 271 Rhubarb - . . m ^ , 673 Rhatany root - - - . . 729 Ringworm - . . . . 372 Rickets - . . . . 812 Round leaf cornel, tincture of . . . _ 789 essential salt of - . _ 790 Rue - - . . . 662 ST. ANTHONY'S FIRE - . . . . 371 Sassafras - . . . _ . 635 Sarsaparilla - - - . . 626 Sage - - - . . 661 Saint Vitus' dance - - . . _ 813 Scurvy - . . . . 348 Scaldhead - - . _ . 373 in infants - . . . _ 698 Scalds and burns - . - . . « 454 Senna, foreign - - - - - 666 American - - - - . . 668 Sickness of the stomach - - - - . 493 Sleep - - - - - 146 want of - - - - . 499 Slippery elm - - - - - 647 Small pox - - - - - 413 Snuffles - - - - - . 593 Snake root, Seneca - - - . . 622 button - - - • - 657 Sore legs - - - - - . 391 Sore eyes - - - ■ - . 403 in children • - - - - 599 6 INDEX. Spirits of turpentine of lavender - - Sprains - • - Stoppage of urine Stillborn •> Stimulants - Sudorifics ... Swelled legs - - - Swaim's panacea - Swelled leg - TANSY ... - Tartar emetic ointment Tetter ** Teething - Thrush - Tight lacing - Tincture of ginger and camomile flowers Toothache - Tobacco - - - - Tonics - - - - Treatment of new born infants Transference of vital power Twins - URINE, SUPPRESSION OF - great flow of - stoppage of, in pregnancy - Uva ursi . - - VACCINATION - Venereal disease - - - WARTS - Walnut, white - - - Wen, cure of - Whidow - - - - Whooping cough - - - Whites - - - - White swelling - Wild cherry tree - - - Worms - - - - Wounds, treatise on incised - - - punctured contused of the ear of the scalp of the throat of the chest of the belly of the joints of the tendons - YELLOW GUM - Page 766 766 832 360 584 764 773 497 778 534 661 796 372 600 595 571 788 374 638 768 586 826 518 360 362 498 643 410 417 457 672 813 407 613 476 816 686 616 834 836 838 840 843 844 844 844 845 846 846 594 INTRODUCTION. It is now seven years since I introduced the first volume of my " Domestic Medicine, or Poor Man's Friend." It then contained only 450 pages, and has gone through •eleven editions, and the astonishing number of one hun-, dred thousand copies have been sold in the southern and western states, and the demand is increasing. I now offer it revised, corrected, and enlarged to 900 pages, and executed in superior style. When I reflect upon the weight of responsibility rest- ing upon me, on account of the immense number of my fellow-beings who confide in what I have written for their benefit, in the spirit of truth and soberness, I fall pros- trate as a worm of the dust before Him " with whom I have to do," and supplicate His blessing upon my labours; and I also return my most grateful acknowledgments to my medical brethren for the high and honourable manner in which they have sustained this family work, as being the established practice of the profession. The rapid sale of my book, and the great patronage I have received in my humble efforts to be useful to my fel- low-creatures, fills my heart with joy and gratitude, and language is inadequate to express to my fellow-citizens, how much I estimate their goodness, or how willing I feel still to continue my feeble efforts, through the assistance of Almighty God, to do them good, and to unfold to them such things, in plain language, as may soothe their bodily infirmities, and perhaps be the means of relieving them from pain and sickness. To the profession of medicine 2 9 10 INTRODUCTION. the life of man stands greatly indebted through all its ages, from the cradle to the grave, and that the use of secondary means was intended by the Deity, cannot be controverted. . Behold the spontaneous gifts of nature, yielding in almost every fragrant herb and flower, medi- cine to heal and relieve our maladies, recalling to our minds the splendid proofs of the divine Majesty, showing the incomparable* superiority of nature over the most ele- gant works of human contrivance. Behold, for a moment, the forms and colours that embellish the vegetable world, and see how many thousands of the human race, like the grazing cattle, without reflection, trample on the flowery meads, and forget that those plants are the works of God, and intended by our heavenly Father., in infinite mercy, for the use of his creatures; wonder not then, that so many constitutions are destroyed in this country by the daily and constant use of mineral poisons, which, if pro- perly treated by the medical plants, would have been otherwise preserved, leaving the system free from the effects of such medicines as I consider worse than the original disease. But the time is not far distant, when the reflecting part of this community will be fully satisfied, that the medical herbs and roots of the United States are better adapted to our constitutions and diseases, than the mineral poisons so constantly and freely used in the pre- sent day. I have ever loved and cherished an exalted opinion of the vegetable kingdom, and I never have pre- scribed a single mineral, without feeling sensible there was something defective in my medical education. And although I have prescribed them throughout my work in the spirit of truth, and according to the practice of medi- cine at this time, I still deplore and conscientiously acknowledge, that there is not a substitute for that her- culean remedy, calomel, in which any confidence can be placed, notwithstanding the many boasted substitutes INTRODUCTION. H daily advertised by quacks and pretenders in the healing art, nor has this invaluable remedy, or boasted panacea, of our profession, developed its powers so as to be per- fectly and fully understood by even the most learned and observing practitioners. That it has done much good to mankind, I acknowledge, by its affording relief in many diseases which would otherwise have proved incurable, or perhaps terminated fatally, but whether the effects of this powerful medicine are left lurking in the system for years, and perhaps never eradicated, is quite doubtful; the ocular demonstration of my daily practice, and inter- course with my fellow-men, proves beyond the possibility of doubt, as to the injurious effects produced in many cases by the indiscriminate use of calomel, particularly to those whose constitutions and inherent disorders subject them to the most awful effects from this medicine. Then let me, as a parent bestowing his parting coun- sel and benediction on his children, advise you to avoid as much as possible, this, as well as all other active medicines, remembering to administer it with due cau- tion and judgment; and when required to use it, let it be administered in active doses, by which I mean it is to be removed from the system, and for this purpose an active dose is by far the best, by enabling it not only to be beneficial, but work itself off. You will find in the practice of medicine, that in nine cases out of ten, active purging will relieve; you are also to remember that the mind has a powerful influence not only over disease, but particularly over the digestive organs. Thus when the mind is intensely occupied, the digestive powers of the stomach are suspended; mental activity controls the functions of the stomach to an equal extent. During the period of deep thought, the vital energy of the body is so entirely directed to the brain, that not only the sto- mach, but the extremities experience a diminution of] 12 INTRODUCTION. excitement, as is proven by their coldness and insensibili ty. This condition of the brain will so affect the sto . mach and intestines, as even to suspend the operation ot., active medicines. Doctor Rush states that, during the Revolutionary war, he knew officers who were unexpect- edly drawn into battle after having taken drastic cathar- tics, and yet suffered no inconvenience from them until the excitement of it had passed away. I have seen, too, distressing sea-sickness promptly relieved by the mental anxiety produced by an engagement between vessels of war. The stimulation caused by this sublime spectacle, produced a revulsion from the stomach to the brain, and thus relieved the one of the irritation accompanying this distressing disease, and the other from that depressed state indicated by languid feelings and obtuseness of in tellect. The mind having such full and powerful effects over the whole system, should be a sufficient evidence to guard you in many complaints, particularly in diseases of the stomach, against the use of too much medicine; depending generally upon diet, moderate exercise, rest, temperance in all things, particularly in eating, change of climate, in sea bathing, and the use of the tepid or warm bath, mineral springs, foot exercise in all chronic complaints, and in assisting nature, by innocent remedies, to throw off disease. Your good sense will suggest to you the importance of time, and the remedies mentioned in chronic disorders, by which I mean diseases of long standing, rather than destroying the coats of the stomach, and paralyzing the last glimmering of hope, by a farrago of medicines. Physicians prescribe much, but use few medicines themselves. Let, then, this hint suffice, by showing you that much is to be expected by simple re- medies, discriminating judgment, and the influence of the mind upon the corporeal body: but do not understand me that I wish you to discard medicine altogether; but by INTRODUCTION. 13 its limited use, and depending much on the simple, yet efficient directions I have here recommended to you, you will have but little use for physicians or their prescrip- tions. Man, in the early days of nature, lived in a state of health, both in Lody and in mind: The earth produced its fruits for him without culture; there were neither irre- gularities 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 perpetual. Pro- tected by the immediate presence of the Almighty, and as yet innocent of any violations of his laws, he was happy in the enjoyments which the spontaneous benevo- lence of nature afforded him. But he has been the arti- ficer of his own untoward destinies. He has transgressed the sacred laws of his Creator—and incurred the pe- nalties annexed to his own transgressions! 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 of the philo- sopher—it is civilization! Civilization, by polishing man, and depriving him of his primitive rudeness, seems to have enervated him:—it seems to have made 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 assem- blages, seems in some measure to have relaxed the strong ties on his earthly existence; society, by extending the B 14 INTRODUCTION. circle 'of his wants, by giving greater energy to his pas- sions, and by generating those that fire unknown to the man of nature, seems to have become a frightful and in- exhaustible 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 forests in pursuit of game—and associate with his fellow-man? Could he not by associating with his fellow-beings, the better pro- tect his existence, secure his happiness, and expand his truly astonishing faculties ? There exists no country, in which men are not found in a social state; this is the case even in the most remote and frightful solitudes, from the Arabian deserts to the Polar regions. But cannot the social ties of men be drawn too close ? Witness our large and opulent cities, where the population is immense, and where assembled multitudes seem to be crowded on each other; where, although the comforts and luxuries of life are to be found in abundance, the horrors of want are extreme ! Are not these extremes always hostile to the social nature of man; are not these large cities continu- ally the seats of mortal diseases; the abodes of crime and immorality; and are not physical and moral depravity, always the consequences of such enormous accumulations of people? When men 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 exempt from the greater part of the diseases which affect us, be- cause they had none but natural wants, which they could always satisfy without excess. The beverage of nature quenched their thirst without the aid of spirituous liquors, and the friendly hand of nature gave them sustenance; but, in proportion to the increase of associations, they INTRODUCTION. 15 generated a multitude of fictitious wants, which continu- ally torment us, their offspring, and render us unhappy; whence, instead of those simple foods which always pro- longed life, man has the poisons of every chymical and foreign luxury served upon his table: and what are the results? Why—prematurely borne down with infirmi- ties, and devoured with remorse, he dies disgusted and exhausted with excesses, reflecting on innocent nature, whom he has outraged! The greatest number of dis- eases and infirmities are of our own begetting; because we have infringed the healthy laws of nature. Fifteen out of twenty cases of sickness, are produced by our- selves ; it is by luxury and scandalous excesses, that we render our existence unhappy, and abridge its length. Man is a creature of habit; urged on by the propensi- ties of his nature, he not only abridges the period of his life, but inflicts on himself the displeasure of his Creator. The rising morn, the radiant noon, the shadowy eve, all tell him as they pass, that his temporal existence is short, his advance to eternity rapid! When we view man in all his bearings and dependen- cies, we find, and the profoundest philosophers have done no more, that he is involved in mystery. The greatest philosophers have only discovered that they live; but from whence they came, and whither they are going, are by nature altogether hidden; that impenetrable gloom surrounds us on every side, and that we can seek in reve- lation alone, the only source of comfort and explanation. The seasons are a memento of life. Spring, breathing into life the new-born flowers; Summer, with his genial warmth, ripening his luscious fruits; Autumn, with her golden harvest, bestowing plenty on man; and Winter, with icy mantle, sounding the requiem of the departed seasons. First comes creeping infancy; next merry boy- hood and aspiring youth; then, resolute and industrious 16 INTRODUCTION. manhood; and last of all, decrepit, cold, and declining age; emblematic of the winter of existence, the shortness of human life. Behold the changes that have taken place in our whole western country, wit'.iin the lapse 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 enterprising civilization has wreaked 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 abode of solitude and savage life, in which he unmolested tracked his game, now resound with the festivities of civilization, and the busy hum of labour. Those innocent and forlorn people, who received our forefathers in the spirit of friend- ship, instead of being fostered by the genial hand of civili- zation, have been driven to the feet of the Rocky or Oregon, mountains, and present a sad and solitary spec- tacle 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 house of God has been built, where once ascended the smoke of warlike and idolatrous sacri- fice : cultivated fields and gardens extend over a thousand valleys in the west, never before since the creation re- claimed to the use of civilized man; in the enjoyment of civil ar.d religious liberty, institutions of learning are hourly springing forth, diffusing the light of knowledge, and establishing the enjoyments and happiness of the western v orld. A few years since, even within the me- mory of : any of the present inhabitants, this immense region was a perfect wilderness : the darkened intellect of the savage knew God but in the winds and thunders; on every side, the dark foliage of the shadowy forest waved INTRODUCTION. 17 in the silent majesty of nature, and her noble rivers moved on in silence, with no other commerce than the peltry of the savage hunter. Most of these rivers are now navigated by steamers, affording the quickest facility of transportation, and the most lucrative commerce; sup- plying the remote interior of our country with the rich products of every foreign climate; our public roads 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 politic constitutions of government. The tree of peace spreads its broad branches from the Atlantic to the Pacific; a thousand villages are reflected from the waves of almost every lake and river; and the west now echoes with the song of the reaper, until the wilderness and "the solitary place has been glad for us, and the desert has rejoiced and blos- somed as the rose." God, in the infinitude of his mercy, lias stored our mountains, fields and meadows, with simples for healing our diseases, and for furnishing us with medicines of our own, without the use of foreign articles; and the discoveries of each succeeding day con- vince 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. There is not a day, a month, a year, which does not exhibit to us the surprising cures made by roots, herbs, and simples, found in our kingdom of nature, when all foreign articles have utterly failed; and the day will come, when calomel and mercurial medicines will be used no longer, and when we .will be independent of foreign medicines, which are often difficult to be obtained, frequently adulterated, and always command a price which the poor are unable to pay. The yet uncultivated wilds of our country, abound in herbs and plants possessing medicinal virtues, and pro- bably thousands of them, whose virtues and qualities re- Bg 3 18 INTRODUCTION. main unknown. The ti avels of Lewis and Clarke led to high expectations in every branch of science ; the observa- tions 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: for the time is rapidly approaching, when the beautiful temple of medical science, will stand divested of. all quackeries and superstitions, and its re- builders be rewarded by the blessings, the gratitude, and the admiration 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 liberality, delighted in concealing the divine art of healing diseases, under complicated names,, and difficult or un- meaning technical phrases. Why make a mystery of things which relieve the distresses and sufferings of our fellow-beings ? Let it be distinctly understood, when I speak of professional pride and avarice, that I do not intend to cast an imputation on all my profession, for want of that heaven-born principle, charity, to our fellow-beings. On the contrary, we are furnished by history, with many prominent examples of this divine form of humanity. Hip- pocrates dispensed health and joy wherever he went, and often yielded to the solicitations of neighbouring princes, and extended the blessings of his skill to foreign nations. "fhe great Boerhaave 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— % <• God is their paymaster." Heberden's liberality to the poor was so great, that he was once told by a friend, he would exhaust his fortune: " No," said he, "I am afraid ♦ INTRODUCTION. 19 that after all my charities I shall die shamefully rich." Fothergill once heard of the death of a citizen of London, who had left his family in indigent circumstances:—the doctor immediately called on the widow, and informed her he had received thirty guineas from her husband, while he was in prosperous circumstances, for as many visits; "I have heard of his reverse of fortune, take this purse, which contains all I received from him: it will do thy family more good than it will do me." Similar occurrences of the liber- ality of this great and good man might be given almost with- out end : indeed it is said, that he gave away one half of the income of his extensive and profitable business to the needy and afflicted, amounting, in the course of his life, to more than one hundred thousand pounds. What an im- mense interest in celestial honour and happiness must this sum not produce at the great day of accounts—the general judgment! With what unspeakable gratitude and delight, may we not suppose the many hundreds—perhaps thousands, whom he has fed, clothed, and relieved in sick- ness by his charities, will gaze on their benefactor in that solemn day, while the supreme Judge accredits those acts as done to% himself, in the presence of an assembled uni- verse ! But these good and great men have gone where we must all shortly follow; and are now receiving the rich reward of all their virtues, in that kingdom where pain and affliction cease. When we trace the powers of hu- man intellect,, and the monuments of human greatness, and all that genius has instituted and labour accomplished; when we trace these things through all their grades of advancement and decline—where is the pride of man ? Behold in each successive moment, the monuments of-the rich, the great, and the powerful tumbling into their native dust; and the hand of time mingling the proud man's ashes with those of the menial slave, so that their 20 INTRODUCTION. posterity cannot distinguish them from each other \ When the sable curtain of death is drawn, where is the bright intellect of genius—and where are those we have loved and honoured? At the threshold of eternity, reason leaves us and we sink, notwithstanding all our precau- tions, and the aid of distinguished physicians. Yet, such is the course of nature, that those who live long must outlive those they love and honour. Such, indeed, is the course of nature, and the condition of our present exist- ence, that life must sooner or later lose its associations. i and those who remain a little longer, be doomed to walk downward to the grave alone and 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 may sur- vive another year ? Piety towards God should characterize every one who has any thing to do with the administering of medicine; nor should any individual ever administer medicine, without first imploring the Almighty for success on his prescriptions; for where is the man who can anticipate success without the aid and blessing of Heaven? Galen vanquished atheism, for a considerable time, by proving the existence of a God, from the wise and curious struc- ture of the human body. Botallus, the illustrious father of blood-letting in Europe, earnestly advises a physician never to leave his house, without proffering 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 in- strument to perform a surgical operation. Sydenham. the great luminary and reformer of medicine, was a reli- gious man; and Boerhaave spent an hour every mornin**- in his closet, in reading and commenting on the Scrip- tures, before he entered on the duties of his profession. INTRODUCTION. 21 Hoffman and Stahl, were not ashamed of the gospel of Christ; and Waller has left behind him a most eloquent defence of its doctrines. Doctor Fothergill's long life resembled an altar from which incense of adoration and praise ascended daily to Heaven; and Hartley, whose works will probably only perish with time itself, was a devout Christian. To this record of these great medical men, I shall add but one remark; which is, that the au- thoritative weight of their names alone, in favour of the truth of revealed religion, is sufficient to turn the scale against all the infidelity that has ever disgraced the sci- ence of medicine since its earliest discoveries. I have seen the flower of life fade, and all its freshness wither; I have seen the bright eye of beauty lose its lustre; and my last and best friends close their eyes in the cold and tranquil slumbers of death—and have said, " where are the boasted powrers of medicine, the pride of skill, the vain boast of science ?"—How humiliating 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 by the physi- cian is as brittle and slender as that possessed by his patient: and those remedies, so often used with success in the case 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, will be compelled to pay that debt, which na- ture has claimed from thousands of his patients. When on the couch of death, and whilst perusing the works of Rousseau, the last words of the great Napoleon were, ir the language of that author—" it is vain to shrink from what cannot be avoided; why hide that from ourselves. which must at some period be found; the certainty of 22 INTRODUCTION. death is a truth which man knows—but which he will- ingly conceals from himself1' We shall all shortly finish our allotted time on earth, even if our lives are unusually prolonged, leaving behind us all that is now familiar and beloved. Numerous races of men will suc- ceed us, entirely ignorant that we once lived, who will retain of our existence, not even the vestige of a vague and empty remembrance! GUNN'S DOMESTIC MEDICINE: corrected and enlarged by the author in 1839. • GUNN'S DOMESTIC MEDICINE. OF THE PASSIONS. All the passions of man seem to have been bestowed on him by an all-wise 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, nationally and individually they produce the most frightful catastrophes. Among nations, if suf- fered to transcend the bounds of political justice, they always lead to anarchy, war, misrule and oppression; and among individuals, do we not easily trace the same dreadful and disastrous consequences? With monarchical and despotic governments, we frequently see the unruly and ungoverned passions of one man destroying and laying waste whole empires in a single campaign; and with de- mocratical or republican institutions of government, have we not frequently witnessed the terrific consequences, to - moral and political justice, which arise from the disor- ganizing and turbulent passions of the sovereign people? Individually and nationally, then, the consequences of misdirected and uncontrolled passions are precisely the same, as regards every thing connected with political, legislative, and moral justice. C 4 25 26 THE PASSIONS. But, as it is not my intention to enter into a disserta- tion on the passions, farther than as they relate to man as an individual, and to their influences on the state ol 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 way to the passions, you destroy the finest ol the vital powers : you destroy digestion and assimilation; you weaken the strength and energies of the heart, and of the whole nervous system. The sto- mach is the workshop of the whole human frame, and all its derangements are immediately felt in the extremities; and to prove how strongly the connection exists between the stomach and heart, the latter immediately ceases to beat when the powers of the former sink and are de- stroyed. Distress of mind is always a predisposing cause of disease; while, on the other hand, a calm and con- tented disposition, and a proper command over our pas- sions and affections, are certain to produce consequences which operate against all predisposing causes of disease. (Vny complaint arising from great agitation of mind, is more obstinate than one occasioned by violent corporeal agitation. For instance : eating and drinking, and par- ticularly in the case of drinking, disease may be combated by rest, • sleep, temperance : but neither temperance, rest, nor even sleep itself, as every one knows, can much affect those diseases which have their seat in the passions of the mind. I shall not enter into the subject of the * passions at full length. ! ----------------■ ) FEAR. Fear is a base passion, and beneath the dignity cf man. It takes from him reflection, power, resolution, and judg- FEAR. 21 mcnt'; and, in short, all that dignity and greatness of soul, which properly appertain to humanity. It has great influence in occasioning, aggravating, and producing dis- ease. It has been a matter of much speculation with me, whether any man was born constitutionally a coward: and my decided opinion is, that cowardice and courage are generally the effects of habit, and moral influence* I have frequently seen brave men, acknowledged to be such on great and important occasions during the late war, who trembled at the mere approach of danger, and acknowledged their want of firmness. The great Duke of Marlborough was once seen to tremble on the eve of battle ; being asked by a soldier the cause of it, the Duke made the following reply—"my body trembles at the danger my soul is about exposing it to !" And does it not appear surprisingly singular, but no less true, that a man shall be one day brave and the next day a coward ? That there is a close affinity between the condition of the physical system and the passions, there can be little doubt: the same man who under the influence of opium, would * Immediately preceding the great battle of Waterloo, on which was about to be suspended the great political and military destinies of Europe, Napo- leon employed a guide who was well acquainted with the country, to accom- pany him in reconnoitering the field of battle, and the relative positions of the hostile armies. When the battle commenced, his peasant guide, who had never before been exposed to the tumultuous shock of hostile armies, manifested strong and decided indications of fear, by dodging from side to side at the sound of the shot. Napoleon observed it, and taxed him with cowardice, which he acknowledged. He then reasoned with him on the absurdity of his conduct. "Do you not know," said he, "that there is a power infinitely superior to man, who rules and governs all, and who holds in his hand'our destinies ? If this be true, of which there can be no doubt, you cannot die until your time arrives: why then dodge the sound of a ball ? when you hear it, it has passed you; and besides, when dodging the mere sound of one shot, you may throw yourself in the way of another." This reasoning had the effect: it banished all suggestions of fear, and the guide afterwards rode erect and steady, and manifested no indication of fear. I mention this circumstance, to show how much we are under the influence of moral power or the force of reason respecting both cowardice and courage* 28 FEAR. brave danger in its most giant form, is seen to shrink like a 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 inex- plicable ; but of this we are certain, that cowardice dis- orders 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 ancients elevated courage into a moral virtue. Many persons have fallen down dead, from the influence of cowardice or fear; and can it then be doubtful that this passion has much influ- ence in producing and modifying diseases ? I feel assured, from practical experience, that in disorders that are epi- demical 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 suffer- ing dreadfully from the ravages of the plague, murder to inspire his soldiers with courage, and to ward off those dangers which might arise from the fears of his army, he frequently 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 has greater power on the frame at this time—con- sequently, the system being deranged, loses its healthy action, and cannot resist and throw off the epidemical disease. HOPE. Hope ! what a source of human happiness rests in the pleasures of hope! Man cherishes it to his very tomb Take from him he >e, and life itself would be a burden! HOPE. 29 How wisely has our Heavenly Father blended in our cup of misery soft whispers of our future exemption from its influence. Without hope, how wretched, how miserable our existence ! what a powerful effect it has, when labour- ing under pain and bodily disorder! It raises the spirits; it increases the action and power of the heart and nerv- ous system; moderates the pulse, causes the breathing to be fuller and freer; and quickens all the secretions. It is, therefore, proper and advisable, in all disorders, to produce hope in the mind, if you wish to have any chance to effect a cure. Is there a being who lives without this balni 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 ex- pect from that emotion, when it embraces the certainty of enjoying felicity with God in eternity. When in ordinary health, and engaged in the pursuits of life, hope is attended with many favourable effects of a fortunate event, without possessing the physical disadvan- tages : the anticipation of happiness does not affect us so excessively as the actual enjoyment; yet it has frequently produced more benefit by its influence on health, than fortune realized. JOY. This is a beneficent passion; it produces an extraordi- nary effect, and is of infinite benefit to the constitution, when indulged in moderation; but, if it should be exces- sive, 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 following instance of the melancholy effects "c2 30 JOY. of the too sudden influence of joy, will fully exemplify the power of this passion on the physical system, even when in health. It may be relied on, as it came very nearly under my own observation. A gentleman in the state of Virginia, who had once been very wealthy, but whose pecuniary circumstances had become much de- pressed, not to say desperate, as a last hope of redeeming himself and his family from distressing embarrassments, purchased a lottery ticket, for which he gave the last hundred dollars he could command. 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 misfortunes. A gentleman on horseback immediately from Richmond, rode up to the house and asked for Mr. D----, and was directed by his wife where he would be found. When the gentleman rode up to Mr. D----, without exercising the least precaution, he announced the fact that the ticket had drawn one hundred thousand dol- lars ! The effect was such as might have been expected; Mr. D----immediately fainted, and was with much dif- ficulty, and after many exertions, restored. In the cir- cumstance I have just related, the great influence of this passion will easily be seen; and I trust it will be as dis- tinctly inferred from it, that excesses of joy are frequently as dangerous to the constitution of humanity, as those of grief, if not more so. I need scarcely remark here, that to persons labouring under disease, as well as to those in merely delicate health, joyful intelligence ought always to be communicated with much caution. anger. 31 ANGER. "Next anger rushed—his eyes on fire!"—Of this most dreadful of the human passions, had I sufficient space to allot it, much might be said that would be of high importance. There is no passion incidental to 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— A throat of brass and adamantine lungs." I have before remarked, that all our passions were in- tended by the God of nature, if kept under the control of reason and humanity, to be beneficial to the happiness of man. This position is demonstrable by reason, and sanctioned by the highest authority—the word of God himself, " who never made any thing in vain." It is not the application of our passions to their natural, reasona- ble, and legitimate objects, that constitutes crime and ends in misery and misfortune. No; it is the abuse of those passions by unrestrained and intemperate indul- gence, and the prostitution of them to ignoble and dis- graceful purposes! Was 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? A noble spirit of resentment, upon the strictest moral principles, was intended to punish wanton and unprovoked aggression, and by preventing a repeti- tion of the deed, to reform the offender. I am perfectly aware that I 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 pro- creative power; the nurse which ushers into life succes- sive millions of the human race, ever intended by the God of nature to degenerate into brutal lust, and to be 32 anger. followed by a train of venereal diseases, which canker life at its very core, " and visit the iniquities of the fa- thers upon the children to the third and fourth genera- tions ?" Was the deep-seated and natural sentiment of sblf-preservation, that essential safeguard of man in every stage of his moral existence, ever intended to dege- nerate into that childish, superstitious, base, and ignoble passion called fear ? Was the elevating and ennobling passion of emulation that only seeks to rival superior excellence, so honourable to the pride of man and so con- sonant to the native dignity of his soul, ever intended to degenerate into a dastardly passion of envy, which seeks to destroy by slander and defamation the excellence it has not the honest virtue even to attempt to rival ? Those who blindly decry the legitimate gratification of the hu- man passions, although they may do so from what to them seems the best of motives, ought to beware that they do not arraign the wisdom of Providence, for im- planting them into the human bosom: and they ought, also, in all cases, to avoid confounding the natural and le- gitimate uses of the passions, with the abuses of their lofty and powerful energies. The passions, confined to their native objects, and, as I have said before, kept in due subjection *to the restraints of reason and moderation, are essential to the enjoyments, the preservation, and the happiness 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 Anger. This deformer of the human countenance and character, is everywhere to anger. 33 be found; and its ravages seem co-extensive with its existence; in other words, it seems to live through all human life, and to extend through the whole extent of society. It is even sometimes seen to wrinkle and deform the maiden brow of youthful beauty with a frown! But do not my fair countrywomen know, that the passions never fail to leave their impress on the countenance, and that habitual anger will render them more disgusting than the witch of Endor ? 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 passions, and particularly by that demon Anger. The female countenance is more expressive of the finer, softer, 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 indications of a depraved and vicious temper. The stern countenance of man can assume and maintain a fixture of expression under any circumstances; and it is the consciousness of this power, that frequently tempts him to play the hypocrite and deluder : for were he conscious that his face would always betray the emotions of his soul, he would never even attempt to deceive! To the practised eye of philosophical research and rigid scru- tiny, no expression of the human countenance ever passes unobserved. To such an eye, all the wiles of the human heart stand revealed; nor can any subterfuge of counter- feit expression, conceal the reality from its observation. The Scripture itself sanctions this doctrine : " A man shall be known by his look—and a proud man by his gait." If my fair countrywomen would reflect well on 5 34 ANGER. the doctrine I have just laid down, they would always cultivate the softer and more benevolent feelings of the heart; and always endeavour to be in reality what they would wish to appear; for they may receive it as a valua- ble truth, not to be controverted by any of the artifices of self-deception, that they were never formed by the God of nature for deception and hypocrisy : and that the purity and elevation of their moral feelings, or the cor-" ruption 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 ? We4 see it be- neath the domestic roof, imbittering the enjoyments of the rich and poor; laying waste the harmonious sanctity of connubial life, and often entailing misery and misfor- 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 with perfect freedom, and without the least accountability to another. In all our electioneering conflicts, at least of late years, we can see the old and disgraceful maxim revived and fully acted on :—" those who are not for us are against us;" as if a ma4i could not exercise a right of selection, and prefer one man to another, without forfeiting the friendship, and in- curring the enmity of all the opposite parties. If we would reflect correctly on this subject, we would soon discover, that personal friendship and personal enmity1 ought to have nothing to do with the matter; we would soon distinguish that a real statesman, or an enlightened legislator, ought to be the mere tool, for factional pur- poses, of no party whatever. The noble and devoted ANGER. 35 patriotism, which gave birth to our truly great political institutions, emphatically forbids that the American peo- ple should ever sacrifice to the narrow views of party spirit, what was destined by the God of nature for the benefit of the human race! This government presents to Europe a spectacle of no ordinary character; in which their statesmen read 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 truly representative government, whose experiments in legisla- tion, diplomacy, and arms, are to settle the important question, yet undecided, whether the mass of mankind can bear the wide tolerations of political freedom ; and whe- ther man, under any circumstances, is capable of assuming and exercising the high prerogative of self-government! For what a principle, then, against all the monarchies and despotisms of Europe and Asia, are the people of this government contending;—a principle, as I before re- marked, in which the whole human race are interested! Before this view of the subject, my reader, how do our party squabbles and brawls at elections dwindle down to nothing; to less than nothing! God forbid! that I should ever seem to turn censor of the age; or assume a dictatorial tone, even in the cause of truth and modera- tion. I have been led into a slight notice of the preceding subjects, by their strong connexion with the moral con- dition of man, and his too frequent subjection to the ravages of a most devastating, and I had almost said, a most damnable passion, which it seems is scarcely con- trollable, by all the energies of reason and moral senti- ment combined. Anger was never yet an evidence of justice, a proof of virtue, or a demonstration of superior intellect; a mind of elevated endowments, will always endeavour to correct its sanguinary impulses and to expel its influence. The man of cool reflection, sees in its un- 36 ANGER. restrained dominion, a thousand evils which escape com- mon observation. He sees that it frequently fills our prisons with delinquents; that it is sometimes the cause of endless remorse; and that it often loads the gallows with a melancholy victim! To speak of other than moral and religious remedies, for this dreadful malady, would be idle and nugatory. I might tell you, as a physician, to deluge your head with water as cold as the snows of Zembla; I might tell you to open every vein in your bodies to calm the raging and ungovernable impulses of anger ; I might tell you that an emetic would curb the tumultuous fever of rage, and restore you to yourselves: all these remedies would produce but a temporary cure; they would be but clipping the twigs from the bohon upas, and leaving the root untouched! The only sove- reign powers, or remedies, if you please, which can be efficient in correcting the evils of anger, must be sought for in early education, and in moral and religious princi- ples, instilled into the mind at an early period of life. JEALOUSY. This is a passion, the causes of which have seldom been investigated, although the effects of it are everywhere to be found. The causes of it have generally something to do with love ; but not always. The coxcomb and co- quette, both of whom are incapable of genuine love, may be powerfully affected by jealousy; yet 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 gene- rally 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 of the warrior, which is sangui- JEALOUSY. 37 nary and faring; of that of the diplomatist, which is poli- tic, cunning and circumventive ; or of that of the states- man, which is imbittered by spectres and phantoms of future glory! Nor will I trouble myself with noticing the jealousy of the poet, which is harmless, though vin- dictive ; of the historian, which is long winded and untir- ing in the pursuit of fame; or of the philosopher and man of general science, which is learnedly dull and heavily investigative, in the pursuit of truths which eternally elude human researches ■ I shall confine myself to the single subject, of that jealousy 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 of person, the love of fame, the love of money, &c. So soon as the rites and ceremonies of marriage 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 the lady to marry the gentleman, or the gentleman the lady, any deviation of conduct, however indecent and immoral on the one part, ought never to be complained of on the other^ pro- vided the true intent and meaning of the compact be complied with, in relation to the cash itself! The same doctrines apply, in the case of a marriage contracted on any other principles. If the fame of either of the par- ties, induces the other to enter into the marriage 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 moral 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 D 38 JEALOUSY. cases out of ten, if married persons who are induced to captiousness and disagreement, would only be particular in calling to mind the real motives which operated in inducing them to marry. If the mere love of person, without any considerations relating to temper, moral excellence, and intellectual elevation of character, were 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 excellences, which were overlooked, disregarded, and absolutely undervahmd in the stipulations of the compact. I think this reasoning is fair; and absolutely too logical to be refuted ; and, as I intend this book as a family museum of useful instruction and advice, I trust that what I have so far said on the subject of jealousy, and other causes of domestic discon- tent, 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 neighbourhoods and communities, with their winnings, scoldings, and recriminations of each other? Will these proceedings benefit the parties themselves ? Will these bickerings and brawls, divorce them from each other? Will their domestic disagreements, and their "fisticuffcombats" if they should happen to be so far advanced in the "sweets of comiubial love," reflect any respectability or honour on their innocent and unoffend- ing offspring? Will their neighbours endeavour to com- pose 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 husband; these are o-ene- rally the gentlemen of the little body politic; some will take the part of the wife; these are generally the lady JEALOUSY. 39 peacemakers of the neighbourhood: and before six months pass round, the whole country will be roused to a war of words, and resemble "a puddle in a storm." But, to conclude the subject of this species of jealousy. with as much seriousness as it seems to deserve ; it may be remarked that the passion is generally founded on the tales and hints of servants, the surmises of tale- bearing gossips, and the malignant inuendoes of those who delight in the diffusion of slander and defamation. There is a class of people in all societies, who are seriously afflicted with a disease called by physicians " cacoethes loqusndi." It is a disease that is generated between ignorance, petty malignity, and restlessness of tongue, wrhich forbids the repose of society: in Eng- lish, it. is the " disease of talking." These people have considerable powers of invention; but, from their igno- rance of the common topics of enlightened and manly conversation, they seem to be absolutely compelled to lie their way into notice! The education of these people, commences at an early period of life. Wheii very young, just perhaps able to go on an errand to a neighbouring 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 com- mence with telling Jibs—and end, confirmed and ma- lignant liars ! 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- nant and terrible character, such as that delineated bv Shakspeare in his Moor of Venice, which sometimes takes possession of the human bosom, and shakes the throne of reason to its very centre. This passion, or 40 JEALOUSY. -t rather this insanity, seems to me to be founded on almost speechless and unbounded love ; a love border- ing on absolute veneration and idolatry. This is an abstruse and intricate subject, and I freely confess that I approach it with unfeigned diffidence. There certainly does exist, in the very nature of man, certain strong sympathies and antipathies, 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 antipathies are everywhere to be found ; nor do I believe there exists on earth, one single individual, male or female, arrived at mature age, who has not strongly felt the influences of these instinctive, I will not say unerring principles. They are discoverable in our choices of dogs, of horses, of farms; in fact, they are discoverable in all eases 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 he had made to conciliate his friendship, that he could not gain him over; and received the following reply, which speaks a volume on the subject: " I do not like you Doctor Fell, The reason why, I cannot tell, I do not like you, Doctor Fell." 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 coolness of the human temperament: for I hold it to be impossible, that so sensitive a beinp- as man can ever behold an object possessed of any strength of character, and feel perfectly indifferent JEALOUSY. 41 respecting it. If these sentiments of attraction or dis- gust, existed only in cases where the character oft the object portended benefit or injury to the beholder^ the matter might easily be explained, upon the rational principle 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 pleasing or displeasing, attractive or repulsive; and in fact, an object of attach-- ment or disgust in some degree, without the least relation to the sentiments of self-interest or self-pre- servation. How much stronger, then, must be our feelings of attachment or disgust for an object, when we know or believe that the character of that object is to determine, under certain circumstances, the happi- ness or misery of our whole lives! Parents and guardians of the destinies of youth, if you can lor one moment suspend the delusions which fascinate you respecting wealth and aggrandizement, I wish you to remember, that the closer in contact you bring those who have no natural affinity for each other, the greater and more distant will be the rebound ! Have you never experienced an emotion of loathing and disgust, by being merely in the presence of an object, whose native and unalterable character was repugnant to yours ? In other words, have you never experienced a moral ■ nausea of all the sensibilities of your nature, by being compelled to an association with a being whose feel- ings, whose sensibilities, whose very modes of thinking. spoke a language abhorrent to your souls ?■ If you have. you can form some idea of the irresistible repulsions which sometimes influence the conduct of persons in the married state: freeze the few and cold affections which habits of enforced association may have pro- d2 6 t2 JEALOUSY. duced; and which seldom fail, sooner or later, either to make them unfaithful to each other, or to separate them forever. This is not a threadbare dream of the imagination, a mere chimera of the fancy; the affec- tions 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 reason herself, have been unable to overcome a repugnance to the marriage bond! Was this apparent contumaciousness the offspring of wilful disobedience, and a fixed design to thwart your inten- tions of bestowing connubial happiness on your child ? No, it was the struggle of nature herself in deep dis- tress ; it was the last effort she could make, to prevent the violation of one of the most sacred of her laws! Seeing, then, as I think has been clearly demon- strated, that human affections are not under our con- trol, at least so far as to be influenced by sentiments of duty, or admonitions of reason, are we not to pre- sume, from the great variety of motives which influ- ence many to enter the marriage bond, that thousands, are badly paired, and worse matched? I think so; and those who doubt the fact, for their own satisfac- tory conviction of error, will do well' to investigate the real causes of so much domestic discontent as is every:. where to be found ; of so many quarrels and connubial bickerings: and, 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 splendours of wealth and trappings of power, if it is not hallowed by. human affections; and I assert further, and am in no way apprehensive of experimental contradiction that where JEALOUSY. 43 wedlock is consecrated by fixed and virtuous love, it is, and must be a source of high enjoyment, even sur- rounded by the hardships, privations, and daily suffer- ings of labour and drudgery. I have often been surprised, on going into some of our cabins on the frontiers; there was the 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, and 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 unde- ceived ; the whole enigma was solved satisfactorily: it had been a marriage of pure and virtuous love, un- trammeled by the calculations of avarice, the mean- ness 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, surrounded by luxury and wealth, and reclined at ease on a gilded sofa, love might have held a court superior in splendour 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 lowering 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 gliding in solemn silence from room to room; nor did one sound of cheerfulness or festi- vity break the dull monotony of this splendid solitude : this gilded, carpeted, and festooued hell of wedded misery! I saw the owners-of all this wealth and 44 JEALOUSY. waste of luxury, take their solitary meal; for nature had denied them offspring, in revenge 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 con- verse : no interchange of thought or sentiment, enli- vened the cold and hollow splendour of the scene. The servants in attendance helped them; even the common forms of superficial-politeness were unob- served ; nor did they recognise the presence of each other, unless in 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. They prove conclusively, that marriages contracted from improper motives, are always followed by conse- quences destructive to human happiness and the best interests of mankind. All the conflicts, discontents, and jealousies of the married state, may be traced to improper motives for marriage or improper conduct after it. Perhaps there is one exception; which I shall name. The husband sometimes becomes jealous of the wife, and the wife of the husband, where there is no infidelity on either side ; from a mere conscious- ness of being unworthy of an attachment. Cases of this character frequently -occur; and it may generally, if not in every instance," be laid down as a fixed and settled principle in human nature, that where there is no positive demonstration of connubial delinquency, the party disposed to suspicion and jealousy, derives these surmises of deviation, from the simple fact of a JEALOUSY. 45 consciousness of being too depraved to be an object of love ! I am aware that this is a severe and degrad- ing sentence, against those who entertain causeless suspicions; but the opinion is not less true than severe. The following is the routine of reasoning, usually ob- served by a man about becoming jealous of his wife. "This woman arrests much of the public attention. She is everywhere wTell spoken of. In all public assemblies, where I am considered a mere shadow, she commands the most unbounded respect, and I view every compliment paid to her beauty and accom- plishments, as an indirect satire on myself. I am un- doubtedly 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 compliment with a smile. Yesterday, from my neglect and inat- tention, a gentleman of fine appearance and command- ing manners and address handed her to her carriage; she thanked him for his polite attentions—by h-----n, she never did love me! At Mrs. Fidget'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 gentleman bowed politely to her in passing,—angels and ministers defend me! It was the gentleman who handed her into her carriage—and I am no more thought of—I am a lost man forever." Man of fanci- ful miseries and imaginary cuckoldom, behold your portrait. Thisisthe light in which the world behojds you. Having; now in some measure accounted for the 46 JEALOUSY. passion of jealousy, which is unfortunately too preva- lent in this country, I will conclude the subject by some general remarks. The marriage compact is entered into for two pur- poses. 1st. The happiness of the parties themselves; 2d. The rearing and educating properly the off- spring of the marriage contract. The principles of a genuine attachment, such as ought always to be found in wedded life, can never exist in any degree of per- fection, unless there is a natural affinity between the parties—in temper, disposition, passions, taste, habits, and pursuits of mind. When this congeniality is abso- lutely and entirely wanting, the parties will gradually and almost imperceptibly become estranged from each other, and finally experience the influence of indiffe- rence, and more probably of settled and confirmed hatred. In this event, if our laws would sanction the practice, and if there were no offspring to provide for, it would be much more consonant with justice and expediency, that the parties could separate, and else- where form new and more agreeable engagements. It certainly is worse than useless, to compel persons to associate together, and that too in the most close and 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 release- ment from the marriage bond, must first become pub- licly and notoriously infamous; or resort, as has been proved by the several late executions of malefactors, to 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. JEALOUSY. 47 Many persons marry who only fancy themselves in love! A little master or miss, who would have been well employed in reading the fables in the spelling- book, gets hold of the -'Sorrows of Werter," or Rousseau's '• Eloisa," or Petrarch's '■ Laura," or some other work of the same character, in which unfortu- nate love is delineated in the colours of the rainbow, and leads its unfortunate and most melancholy victims to whoredom and suicide! With a head full of such trash, and a heart as tender and susceptible as a beef- steak that has been well beaten for the gridiron, no- thing will do the little gentleman or lady but the very fact of falling in love; and that, too, with the very first object which presents itself. Papa and mamma are cruel; they will not assent to the match, and the event is probably an elopement. Then comes the appalling discovery, that the lady is not quite a goddess, nor the gentleman entirely a demigod ; then comes the disco- very, 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 predicated on natural con- genia lity 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 to the married state. How can such elevated and responsible duties be performed by persons who are disqualified even from regulating their own conduct, so as to set a correct moral exam- ple ? I am very willing to admit that teachers of much ability are everywhere to be found; but no influence 48 JEALOUSY. can possibly act on the infant and youthful mind in the formation of future character, with half the force, depth and durability Of impression, as that derived from the precepts and examples of parents: and I presume it will be'admitted, that those who are destitute of the capa- city to make a judicious selection of partners for life, are scarcely capable of forming the infant mind. The wives of the Greeks and Romans and their domestic regulations, were truly the nurses and thfe 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 purity, elevation and patriotism of his character, to the sound judgment and intellectual energy of his mo- ther. The influence which the manners, example, and precepts of a mother, exercise over the intellectual dawning of the youthful mind and passions, can scarce- ly be appreciated by men of the most acute and pro- found observation; a proof of which, in addition to the millions of others which might be adduced, may be inferred from the remarks made by the illustrious and greatly unfortunate captive of St. Helena, on the mo- ral and intellectual, qualifications of his mother. The truth is, and I mention it with no ordinary sen- timents of regret, that the education of females in the United States, is not only viewed in too unimportant and contemptible a light, but that it is absolutely dis- graceful to the spirit of our institutions and the REAL GENIUS OF THE PEOPLE. LOVE. 49 LOVE. This is one of the master passions of the human soul, and when experienced in the plenitude of its power, its devotions embrace with despotic energy and uncontrolled dominion all the complicated and power- ful faculties of man. It was implanted in the human bosom for the noblest and most beneficent of purposes, and when restricted to its legitimate objects, and re- strained within due bounds by moral sentiment, may be Galled the great fountain of human happiness. No passion incidental to humanity embraces so vast a space,. and such an infinite multiplicity of objects; it com- mences in the cradle with tender emotions of filial attachment and veneration for our parents; it animates and accompanies us through all the checkered vicissi- tudes of life, attaching itself to every object which can afford us enjoyment and happiness, and finally, in accompanying 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 other elementary principles of human na- ture, its essence baffles the keenest researches of phi- losophy and science; and its existence can only be recognised by a consciousness of its presence, and the effects which are manifested in every department of life, by multiplied exhibitions of its energies. It at- taches the infant to its parent, and the domicile of its earliest days of helplessness and dependence: it attaches the youth to the objects of his playful years, to the companions 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 E 7 50 LOVE. glory, the hero would degenerate into a poltroon, the statesman into a political driveller, and the patriot into a mere citizen of the world, without friends, without home—and without those endearing and sacred ties which bind us to our native land. The beneficent and heavenly aspirations of love are everywhere to be 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 Swede, the Norwegian, and Laplander, to the snows and glaciers of the polar regions; and the courtly and civilized European and American, to the refinements and comforts of the more temperate regions of the globe. Without local, relative or personal attach- ments, man would be eternally discontented with his condition; he would become like Cain, a fugitive and a vagabond upon the face of the globe; in fact, the deep foundations of domestic and national society would soon be broken up and scattered to the winds of heaven, were it not for 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 in- duce him to part with his children; ask the husband of a woman of elevated and noble character, what sum in gold or jewels he would consider equivalent to her value ; ask the savage what would induce him to aban- don 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 Samoide and Lap- lander, what would induce them to change the fogs and snows of the north, for the mild and balmy tem- perature of countries presenting eternal spring and LOVE. 51 unfading verdure. They will tell you that they love their parents, their children, their friends, their coun- try. Man, unlike the inferior animals of creation, is indeed the citizen of every climate; and his capacities 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, conveniences, and positive enjoyments of existence. Philanthropy, or love of our species, is founded on favourable perceptions of the purity, the beneficence, the elevation, and the true dignity of the human cha- racter ; nor did ever an individual, of any age or coun- try, become a confirmed misanthrope, but from con- trary perceptions of human nature. A man who is naturally a hater of his species, without having had his character soured by the deceptions, frauds, and oppressions of mankind, is by nature cowardly, timid, and selfish. Nothing great, patriotic, or disinterested, can be expected from such a man; he is cruel, vindic- tive, avaricious, fraudulent, and roguish in the extreme; he only seems to have been placed among mankind, as a sort of standard of meanness 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 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 exclusive self-love, which manifests itself in taking all possible advantages of mankind, for the hoarding and accumulation of ill- gotten wealth. These pigmy misanthropes, or haters of mankind on a petty scale, are everywhere to be found. They are the scoundrels who, in all societies, cheat and swindle upon every occasion; they are the #2 LOVE. men who will sacrifice, or, in other words, purchase aff half its value, on an execution sale, the little property of the needy, and who would not scruple to rob the widow and the orphan of the little that sickness and misfortune had spared them. You will see these swindling vagabonds, adding hypocrisy to their petty villanies, by making an absolute mockery of religion itself at the communion table. That insatiable avarice 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 consider 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 disco- ver the folly, impolicy, and heinous immorality of such a course. The passion of love, properly 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 hu- man bosom. As I remarked before, under the head of jealousy, this pure and elevated attachment is the great solace of human life; the harbinger of success- ful procreative power; the precursor and nurturer 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 of every country that has been invaded by the enter- prise of man, and is found to bloom and flourish in perfection 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 of the African of the Gambia, as well LOVE. 53 as in the haunts of civilization and the palaces of kings. As I have remarked under another head, there exists in the human bosom, certain instinctive sympathies and antipathies, which we are unable to control, either by the force of moral sentiment or the efforts of rea- son ; and which are absolutely inexplicable by all the boasted powers of human genius. The existence of these instinctive principles, are only known by our own consciousness, and the powerful and decisive effects they are known to produce. No two human beings, especially of different sexes, and more especially if their affections were unengaged by previous prepos- sessions, 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 antipa- thy before noticed. When the attraction is mutually strong, the parties soon become conscious of a conge- niality of temper, disposition, taste, and sensibilities; this sympathetic attraction has, by some writers on the subject, been denominated "love at first sight." When on the other hand, the physical, moral, and intellectual characters of the parties are essentially and radically different from each other; in other words, and in more fashionable phraseology, when the natural characters of the parties are the antipodes, or direct opposites of each other, the repulsive powers of natural antipathy are so strongly experienced, as to produce involuntary hatred, if not fixed and unalterable sentiments of con- tempt and detestation. I am thus particular in giving my opinions on these subjects, not only because I know that their correctness will be sanctioned bv the actual experience of thousands, but because I trust they will be of service to many, in disclosing the extreme dan- E 2 54 LOVE. ger to human happiness, which invariably arises from uniting those to each other, by merely artificial and factitious ties, whom God and nature have put asunder. By opposition of native character, I mean a plain and palpable dissimilitude of temperament, taste, and intel- lectual and moral pursuits. Can physical and moral beauty be in love with physical deformity and moral depravity of character ? Can wisdom and intelligence be in love with folly and stupidity ? Innocence and spotless purity with guilt and corruption ? Virtue with vice ? No! " Vice is a monster of such frightful mien, That to be hated, needs but to be seen." I am willing to admit, and believe it to be strictly true, that persons who are characterized by vice, cor- ruption, guilt, stupidity, folly, moral depravity, or personal deformity, may form strong attachments to persons of diametrically opposite characters: this would be but admitting what every person knows; that vice and imperfection, under all their various forms and characters, if endowed with the common faculties of perception, must and always will pay involuntary tributes 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 im- moral portion of mankind, is precisely such as may always be expected from such characters; it is selfish, base and ignoble; utterly devoid of tenderness and consideration for the object beloved; it is precisely such love as the wolf bears for the lamb, or the fox for the hen-roost! It has always been matter of much asto- nishment to me, that females of refined sensibility, lofty sentiments of moral virtue, and high orders of intel- lectual power, should expect a reciprocation of pure LOVE. 55 and virtuous love, from the scum and dregs of society, the off-scourings of brothels, and the hoary and de- praved veterans of the gaming table! They might as well, I think, and with much better hopes of success, attempt to extract candour from confirmed hypocrites,. honour from thieves, and humanity from highway robbers. There is no way of solving this enigma, that I know of, but by supposing that women of virtue and honour are incapable of distinguishing the particular claims which these gentlemen have to their detestation 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 ex- istence ; for I cannot suppose they can truly love them. and yet be fully acquainted with their intrinsic cha- racters. The strength and quality of an attachment, must certainly depend, in a great measure, on the phy- sical 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 sentiments and base passions, that are produced or excited by a female of a contrary character, and whose countenance and deportment betray indications of immoral habits and loose desires. There is something of immaculate purity; something of the very divinity of virtue, in the countenance and deportment of a woman of chaste desires, elevated moral sentiments, and cultivated in- tellectual powers, that represses the low-born sugges- tions 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 yet had the 56 LOVE. impudence and audacity to contemplate the deliberate seduction of an accomplished and beautiful woman, unless he were under the influence of a species of libi- dinous insanity; had formed a contemptible opinion of the female character, or had discovered some vul- nerable part in her armour of chastity and virtue. Few women, and I mention the fact with much regret, are proof against the thrilling suggestions of vanity, the allurements of flattery, and the fascina- tions 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 hostile to the foolish and dan- gerous suggestions of vanity; that flattery, called by an old and quaint writer, " the oil of fool," is a direct and positive insult; and that a female passion for uni- versal admiration, especially in the married state, is hostile to domestic peace, and absolutely 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 art, without first concluding that the object of his addresses was a fool; the truth is, that flattery is always addressed to our personal vanity, which in plain language means, a strong propensity to an over- estimate of our own 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, that a man or woman may be too proud to be vain; the fact is, that 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 and expected that the French were a proud nation, but I have found by experience that LOVE. 57 ftiey are only vain." The passion for universal admi- ration is the distinguishing and strong characteristic of a coquette; it is the offspring of personal vanity, begotten upon coldness of temperament, ignorance, and folly. A coquette, in the female world, is what a eoxcomb 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 absolutely incapable of feeling the soft refinements, the elevated sentiments, or the deep-toned energies of real love; those people are never in danger of suffering the tortures of a broken heart, nor can they experience either much happiness or any considerable degree of misery in the maTried state. The love of general, admiration is their master passion j> and whenever this is the case, it is impossible that a concentration of affections can take place, and be exclusively directed to a single object; fire can never be produced from the separated and scattered sunbeams, they must be concentrated by a convex glass, called a lens, before they can be rendered sufficiently intense to produce warmth, 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 conjugal affections, and sometimes leads to jealousy and discontent, with all their dreadful train of consequences: in other words, and I wish the sen- timent to make a well-merited and indelible impres- sion,, the married man who can prefer the admiration; 8 58 LOVE. pf other women to that of the 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 connubial love, to the honour 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 attach- ments of a husband, who would not scruple to make a sacrifice of life itself to insure her 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 op- posite physical, moral, and intellectual characters, could never assimilate with, and become strongly attached to each other, notwithstanding the powerful attractions of the sexual instinct. By opposite natural and ac- quired characters, I do not mean mere contrasts of mental and corporeal disposition and characteristics. I cannot otherwise disclose my precise meaning, respecting things which are direct opposites, and those which are only contrasts of each other, than by citing the example of colours. Black and white, for instance, are the opposites of each other, and when placed in juxtaposition, always pain the eye; but, either of those colours, when compared with any other of the primi- tive colours or even shades, are only considered con- trasts. St. Pierre, in his Studies of Nature, has been explicit on this ingenious and novel subject, which is certainly worthy of much consideration. There seems to exist, between persons of opposite physical LOVE. 59 characters, a decided indifference as regards sexual communication; or if not a decided and entire indif- ference, there certainly does not obtain between them, that ardent and passionate sexual propensity, which is found between persons who are the contrasts of each other. I have remarked in innumerable instances, the strong attachments which existed between persons of contrasted complexion, contrasted colours of the eyes and hair, and especially of strongly contrasted stature and dimensions; and I have no doubt, that the reader of this new, if not very interesting part of my reflec- tions, will recollect very many instances, of the exist- ence of marriages voluntarily entered into from the strongest of possible attachments, between persons who, in point of stature and size, were perfect contrasts of each other. Ask a tall, robust and athletic man what sort of a wife he would choose; and you will very soon ascertain that his choice would fall on a female, the contrasted reverse of himself. In fact, you will always find on inquiry, that a lean man prefers a woman of size, and rather large proportions; a short man, a woman of lofty stature, and so on to the end of the chapter of contrasts in personal character. The gigantic and brawny Roman warrior, Mark Antony, fell in love with the sylph-like and fairy form of Cleo- patra, the celebrated Queen of Egypt, who was re- markable for being of very diminutive proportions, though very beautiful; in fact, thousands of such in- stances might be cited from both ancient and modern history. The contrast of physical proportions and character, united in the marriage bond, seems to have been intended by Providence to equalize the breed of mankind, and to prevent them on the one hand from running up into a race of giants, and on the 60 LOVE. other from degenerating into a train of diminutive and contemptible pigmies. But on the subject of contrasts, that is not all; con- trasts in moral and intellectual qualities seem to be equally favourable to love; and here again I am com- pelled to resort to figurative language to convey my meaning. There are concords and discords in music: perfect concords always fall upon the ear with a dull and cold monotony; whilst perfect discords always grate harshly on the auditory nerves, producing exqui- site sensations which are still more unharmonious and disagreeable. It will not be.necessary to say much on this subject of moral and mental contrasts •; I only suggest, that the reader may make his own observa- tions, respecting this singular anomaly in the human character. We know perfectly well, that persons of moderate intellectual powers, both male and female, provided their tempers and dispositions be gentle and amiable, are invariably the objects of love and the most tender regard, with those who possess uncom- monly lofty and powerful characteristics of genius and intellect. This fact is even so notorious in all socie- ties, as to have become a proverb; and, how often .have we all seen instances in conjugal life, in which fortitude has been united to despondency, fickleness -and inconstancy of resolution, with the most unshaken and resolute tenaciousness of purpose, timidity with consummate bravery, and the highest order of moral courage, with the shrinking cowardice of superstition and childish ignorance. We know these to be 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 wis- dom and moral energy, and for forming additional and LOVE. 61 indissoluble bonds in the social compacts of man- kind. -1 have several times mentioned, and I think demon- strated, so far as the force of facts and moral reasoning will go, that the passion of love is measurably invo- luntary, and beyond the control of moral sentiment and reason; nor can there, I think, exist any doubt, not only that the strength of the passion depends on the peculiar temperaments of individuals, but that the distinctive characteristics of the passion or emotion called love, are essentially connected with the physical, moral, and intellectual qualifications of the objects or persons beloved. If, then, the strength of the passion is in any proportion to the natural temperaments of individuals; and if its peculiar qualities or character- istics 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 attachment 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 sub- ject in this way, and place it in this light, in order to prevent the exercise of hypocrisy between the sexes, which is always dangerous in its consequences—and in order, also, that those whose happiness in life de- pends on their being objects of esteem, friendship. veneration, attachment, and love, may see 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 candour, honour, and moral virtue, are the great passports to human happiness. I have often witnessed F 62 LOVE. the tremulous solicitude of females, of the most amia- ble and exalted qualities of person and mind, respect- ing the public opinion of their merits and character, and frequently been interrogated by them on the sub- ject. 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 founded, will be precisely such as are entertained for you by those whose esteem and approbation are of any im- portance. Genuine and rational love commences in the natural, and, if I may be allowed the expression as applicable to human nature, the instinctive sympa- thies of individuals for the society of each other; it is cemented and powerfully strengthened by the endear- ments of sexual enjoyment, of which I have before spoken : and it is crowned with both temporal and im- mortal duration, by the mild purity and unfading lustre of the moral virtues, and the imposing splendours of ge- nius and intellectual power. As I said before, it is con- fined to no particular 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 temperate zones. It is the exclusive guest of no .particular rank in life : the rich, the poor, the exalted, the base, the brave, are alike participant in its genial warmth and heavenly influence. In the words of Laurence Sterne, " no tint of words can spot its snowy mantle, nor chymic power turn its sceptre into iron; with love to smile upon him as he eats his ■ crust, the swain is happier than the monarch, from whose court it has been exiled " by vice and immorality. This is that undebased and genuine love, which is founded in unlimited confidence, mutual esteem, and the mild sublimities of virtue and integrity of charac- % LOVE. 63 ter. It illuminates the countenance with the sparkling brilliancy of soft desire; and is in fact the safeguard of female virtue, and of chastity itself, whenever as- sailed by unprincipled and seductive fascination. With respect to the passion 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 Eve- ry human being, at a very early period of life, from peculiar modes of instruction, and the examples pre- sented to the mind, forms some idea of the qualifica- tions which constitute human excellence. If, for in- stance, at an early period, the parents and instructors of a female impress upon her mind, that the mere de- coration of the person will render her an object of tender regard, without the cultivation of her moral and intellectual qualities, the result will be, and it cannot be avoided, that aiming at what she believes to be the great excellence of the female character, both her mo- ral and intellectual energies will retrograde into bar- renness and insipidity: in other words, she will become what the world denominates a pretty woman, the idol of fools and coxcombs, but an object of compassion, indifference, or contempt, with men of lofty sentiments and distinguished characters. Peter the Great of Rus- sia (on account of her superior intellectual endow- ments) chose for a wife, and made her empress, 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, dis- crimination, and sound judgment of Peter the Great respecting the value of a woman of a cultivated mind, revived in the person and character of Lord Morgan. Sidney Owenson, his present wife, was the daughter of 64 LOVE. a comedian on the Dublin stage. At an early period, this youthful female discovered strong traits of genius of a literary character, and Ovvenson, though in impove- rished circumstances, determined to educate his daugh- ter. He did so; in consequence of which she became an object of strong attachment with a man of distin- guished mind, who preferred her to the titled and the rich, and she is now Lady Morgan. Mrs. Hamilton, a lady of some celebrity, who has written much on female education, makes the follow- ing 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. Hamil- ton recognised religion as an essential prerequisite in preserving the moral virtues of woman, she would probably have said all that was necessary on female education. The accomplishments of women ought always to have some relation to their future duties in life; but it is evident, that the cultivation of their minds, cannot with justice to themselves and society be dis- pensed with, no matter what may be their future de- stinies. A cultivated mind is a never-failing passport to the best society; it always insures the extension of friendship and civility, when accompanied by correct- ness 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 feeling for the distresses of others, and induces a commiseration for the misfortunes of mankind; it holds up to a distinct and scrutinizing examination, the real characters of men, and enables a woman to make a judicious selection betwixt men of real worth and coxcombs and fools, by which, if wealthy LOVE. 65 and distinguished by personal beauty, she may heper- secuted with addresses. It fits her for the superinten- dence and regulation of a family, and enables her to make correct 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 shallow and frivolous accomplishments which are sometimes taught at boarding-schools, nor do I mean by a refinement of the female mind, a proficiency in drawing roses which resemble a copper coin, in thrum- ming a waltz on the piano, or fidgeting through the lascivious gesticulations of an Italian or French fan- dango ! I mean, by mental culture, the acquisition of solid accomplishments ; those which can be rendered useful to domestic policy, be an example to society in the correction of its morals, and reflect honour on the national character. Such an education always represses the waywardness of the fancy, and lops away the use- less, and often dangerous exuberance of a powerful imagination; it affords a never-failing resource of comfort in solitude, and finds a healing balm for the wounds of a wayward and unfortunate destiny. In fine, no woman possessed of a judicious education, even under the pressure of the most trying misfortunes, ever yet lost the just equipoise between her strength and sensibility, or became the victim of a broken heart! The exquisite miseries which spring from disap- pointed love, and sometimes terminate in a broken heart, (for I 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 and ima- F2 9 66 LOVE. ginary conceptions of the qualifications of the object of attachment; they are, in fact, the melancholy re- sults of an over-estimate of the virtues and perfections of human nature;*of.which- the woman of a culti- vated mind, and really philosophic acquisitions, stands in no possible danger. A woman who cultivates her imagination by the unlimited perusal of novels 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, should she live to have the errors of her imagination corrected by prac- tical experience, will have nothing of the imagination left, but the ashes of a consumed sensibility, on which no future attachment can possibly be predicated. A woman of cultivated mind, sees objects as they really are—and 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 it to be a compound of weakness and strength, virtue and vice, wisdom and folly: and never over-estimating the virtues and perfections of an object of attachment* her desires are chastened by moderation, and her loves by the high-toned philosophy of true wisdom ! Such a wroman, unlike the melancholy victim of a morbid sensibility, and a high-wrought and disordered imagi^ nation, 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 to human genius and science are but miserable and inefficient palliatives. Religion, change of scenery, and attractive and interesting company, in some cases have considerable influence in detaching the mind LOVE* 67 from the concentration of its reflections on an object of deep and vital love; but in the more numerous in- stances, they have all been known to fail, and even to baffle all the efforts of friendship and parental attach- ment. 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 imagination, are almost the only and powerful specifics against the occurrence of the mise- ries of disappointed love. GRIEF. This depressing affection of the mind, called a passion when experienced in the extreme, sometimes degenerates into confirmed melancholy, despair, and fatal insanity. It is the offspring of so many and such various causes, that it is next to impossible to enume- rate them. It is sometimes caused by cheerless and gloomy presentiments of the futuFe : sometimes by the heavy pressure of present evils and calamities; and, not unfrequently, by strong and vivid recollections of losses which can never be retrieved. Against its in- roads, and often fatal effects on the health of the phy- sical system, (which are varied according to the tem- perament and character of the individual,) neither the internal nor external exhibition of medical drugs can have much avail. The force and effect which grief exercises and pro- duces, in deranging the functions of the physical sys- tem, seem, in a great degree, to depend on the poig- nancy and acuteness of those sensibilities which cha- racterize the nervous system. Where the nervous 68 GRIEF. system is tremulously sensible, and easily susceptible of external impressions, which is generally the case with persons of distinguished genius, there is invaria- bly found a constitutional melancholy, which delights in retrospections of the past, and serious, if not cheer- less anticipations of the future. At an early period of life, these persons are highly susceptible of the charms of nature, and also of her more gloomy and sombre scenery; and being deeply sensible of the influence of what to other men would be slight impressions, their feelings always exhibit themselves in the extremes of animation or depression of spirits, for which they themselves are utterly unable to account. In fact, it is not unusual to witness in the varying sensibilities of these persons, and that too in the lapse of a single day, the reflective calmness and profundity of the great southern Pacific ocean—the urbanity and cheerfulness attendant on anticipations of future prosperity and happiness—and those storms of ungovernable and un- subdued passions, whose undulations resemble the mountain billows of the Atlantic when lashed by the hurricanes and tornadoes of the torrid zone ! This is not only the constitutional temperament of true and unsophisticated genius, of which so much has been said, and so little known, but it is also the soil which produces sensations of exquisite happiness and misery ; distinguished principles of moral rectitude and depra- vity of conduct; great virtues and great vices ! Seriousness, depression of spirits, melancholy, grief, despair, insanity, are but the different modifications of the same passion or predisposition of the moral facul- ties, of whose essence *we in reality know nothing abstractedly, only differing in degree of force and effect, in proportion to the strength or weakness of GRIEF. 69 operating causes. For instance; seriousness and solemnity of feeling are always produced in a mind of sensibility and reflection, by the sight of a dead body; of the human limbs lopped away in battle; of the human mind in ruins; and of human misery exhi- bited 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 re- produced in the mind, by reiterated exhibitions of objects capable of exciting them, their impressions will become more durable, and soon produce an 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 person affected with its influence, to seek, in solitude and retirement from society, an indulgence in inactivity, irresolution., and gloomy reflections, which, becoming fixed, and as it were immovable, settles down into melancholy. Seriousness, depression of spirits, and melancholy, sometimes produce mental derangements: but they are generally of a harmless, unobtrusive, silent, and inoffensive character, where the nervous system is tre- mulous and exceedingly delicate: or where the tem- perament, if I may be allowed the phraseology, is characterized by weakness, irresolution, and timi- dity. 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 hysterics in women; grief and despair are certainly affections of a more active and powerful character, and 70 GRIEF. much sooner ending in fatuity or mental exhaustion, and outrageous or confirmed insanity. As I have somewhere mentioned, and the proba- bility is that the fact will be acknowledged by all well- informed physicians, (by which I mean those who have discovered how little can be essentially known on the subject of affections of the mind,) that the par- ticular and direct influence which these and other strong passions have in deranging the organization of the brain, cannot well be ascertained. All we know about the matter is, that we cannot think with accu- racy and profundity of research, without a well- organized brain, and that any derangement of that organization and its natural functions, produces coequal and coextensive derangements, of the intellectual or mental powers. The probability is, that refined, sus- ceptible, and strong organizations of the brain, consi- dered in the aggregate, have much influence in im- parting to the mind those refinements of. taste, susceptibilities of feeling, and superior intellectual ca- pacities, which we call genius, for want of a term which can be more clearly understood. We are per- fectly aware, that without a well-organized eye, no definite or accurate ideas can be formed of colours, 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-constructed 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 th GRIEF. 71 tongue and its appendages, be unobstructed by malfor- mation of the organs of taste, no distinctions of flavour could be recognised 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 hands, be perfect both in organization and tone, no adequate or correct ideas could ever be formed of the shape, solidity, &c, of bodies with wiiich 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 and sus- ceptibility of the senses, these derangements always bring to the censorium, or focal point of mental im- pression, incorrect and distorted 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 depression of spirits, and confirmed melan- choly. On the other hand, when afflictive impressions are made upon the mind of an unusually active and powerful character, and sufficient to impair and par- tially destroy the organization itself, as in the cases of intense and poignant grief, or absolute and hopeless despair, the partial dissolution of the physical struc- ture and organization of the brain, it is not impro- bable, leads to offensive, mischievous, and terrific insanity, amounting to absolute frenzy, and 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, 72 GRIEF. between which there exists a close and almost identi- cal sympathy, decidedly morbid effects are 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 of the system, by the passion of grief, and other strong affections of the same or a similar character. The same effects as those produced by the passions above enumerated, are sometimes 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 the 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 derangements of the physical functions, and, not un- freimently, moral and mental alienations. The effect of tincture of cantharides on some of the 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 derangement, and actual dis- solution of organic structure in the brain. The effect which opium produces, where it is used in immoderate quantities, as among the Turks, is well known; and that it not unfrequently ends in derangement of the physical system, and absolute insanity with all its horrors. Nor is the intemperate use of spirituous liquors, used to such excess and in such immoderate quantities in our own country, far behind the use of GRIEF. 73 opium, in producing the same deleterious effects on the brain, through the medium of the stomach. Every man who will tax his recollections, will find his memory furnished with innumerable instances, in which a long train of physical diseases has been fol- io wed by derangements of the intellect, which none of the boasted powers of science or medicine could relieve or rectify, merely from the immoderate use, or rather abuse of spirituous liquors. Have we not all witnessed instances, in which the abuse of spirituous liquors has produced visceral obstructions of a most deadly character: and mental derangements which have been confirmed and rendered durable to the end of life? How is this fixed and confirmed mental alienation to be accounted for, but upon the presump- tion that those stimulants, long continued, affect not only the nerves, but the organic structure of the brain ? Do we not know that a fit of intoxication is a paroxysm of mental derangement, and that impressions often re- iterated will wear their channels in the brain, injure its unrivalled and delicate organization, and render those effects durable? What are the effects which immediately follow a fit of excessive intoxication? Are they not the very same as those produced by the influence of the passions of which I have before spoken? Are they not seriousness, depression of spirits, melancholy, grief, despair, insanity ? This is the point at which I intended to arrive. I intended to demonstrate in a plain and simple manner, that dis- ease, insanity, and death are produced as well by moral as by physical causes; and that a physician ought to ascertain both the state of the body and mind, if he really intends to effect a cure, or removal of the class of diseases just mentioned. I know it to be a com- G 10 74 grief. mon practice w ith physicians, to listen to long details of the physical symptoms of their patients, without the least inquiry as to the moral or mental causes of their diseases; when the fact is, that in five cases out of ten, arising among persons of sedentary, refined, luxurious, studious, and intellectual habits; and among delicate females, in seven cases of disease out of eleven, particularly those which are obstructional, the causes will be found seated in the mind and passions. I need not enlarge on this subject; every man possessed of any experience and common sense, must have observed, both on himself and others, the remarkable effects pro- duced on the physical system by the mind and pas- sions ; nor can such an individual be ignorant of the fact, that deleterious substances, when taken into the stomach, frequently operate with immense power on the passions, as well as on the organic structure of the physical system. The truth is, that although w7e are well convinced of the intimate connection of the mind and body, and also of the reciprocal influence they always exercise alternately over each other, no man has ever yet been able fully to develope the mysteries of that connection, or the natural mediums through which they operate on, and influence each other; in other wrords, all we certainly know respecting the matters under consideration, must be confined to the effects daily and hourly witnessed, in the reciprocal and varied action of the mind and its passions, and the body and its affections, on each other. When morbid derangements of the system are de- rived from the action of the mind and passions the consuiations of religion and philosophy are of "Teat importance; because they teach mankind, in a language not \q be misunderstood, that cheerless and gloomy GRIEF. 76 presentiments of the future, only unfit us for combating and vanquishing present difficulties: that the heavy pressure of present evils, and calamities which are irremovable, are lightened of half their ponderous and depressing influence by that masculine fortitude which is derived from the inspirations of wisdom, and that celestial hope of relief which springs from genu- ine religion : and that it is the height of human folly and weakness unavailingly to mourn over losses which can never be retrieved! When the causes of our dis- eases and miseries are connected with physical princi- ples in some degree under our control, it becomes a moral duty, as far as it be possible, to remove them : and that too by physical means: and lam decidedly of opinion, generally speaking, and a few individual cases which might be enumerated left out of view, that moral causes of diseases and misery are to be combated by moral means—and that physical causes of function- al derangement, and violations of organic structure derived from such causes, are to be combated and over- come by physical means. I am perfectly willing to admit, that the influences of the imagination, and of the animating passions, are very considerable in pre- venting disease, and removing obstructions when not firmly seated; but I am not willing to allow that either the imagination or the animating passions, can render flexible the coats of an ossified artery^ or remove a stone from the bladder! The fact is, that the line of demarcation where moral causes cease to operate, and where the influence of physical ones commences, is a mystery hitherto too profound and inscrutable for the boldest efforts of human genius. We are well aware that many malformations of the human fetus take place previous to birth, such as in cases of hare-lip, external 76 GRIEF. impressions on the skin, &c. but at what period of ges- tation such malformations and external impressions cease to be made, it is absolutely impossible to conjec- ture with even a probability of truth. The following case of the powerful effects of imagi- nation, put by Doctor Cypricanus, is recorded in this work, to place pregnant females on their guard, and to exemplify the effects of the imagination on highly sus- ceptible materials. " A female child," says this distin- guished man,'; was born with a wound in her breast above four inches in length. It penetrated to the mus- culi intercostales, and was an inch broad, and hollow under the flesh round about the wound; besides which, there was a contusion with some swelling, at the lower part of the wound inside. The child came into the world without any violence; and consequently it did not receive the wound in its birth; it was caused by the strength of the imagination; for, about two months before, the mother had, by chance, heard a report that a man had murdered his wife, and with his knife had given her a great wound in the breast—at which rela- tion she changed, but not excessively. It is not merely probable, but absolutely certain, that the child received the wound in its mother's body at the very moment she was affrighted; because the wound was very sordid, and the inside, as well as the outside, beset with slime proceeding from the water in which the child lies in; its mother's wromb—besides which, it had every appear- ance of an old wound." The effects of grief, which is an extremely depress- ing passion, and its morbid influences on the body or physical system, are very remarkable. It diminishes bodily strength in general, and also the action of the heart in particular. It impedes the circulation of the GRIEF. ft fluids, stagnates the bile invariably, atld occasions indu- rations of the liver; or by throwing the bile into the circulation of the blood, it produces jaundice or dropsy. Grief also diminishes the perspiration, renders the skin sallow, aggravates the scurvy; and is particularly ef- fective in producing and aggravating putrid fevers: it also disposes persons t6 being easily affected with fever, arising from excessive irritability, or constipation or costiveness of the bowels. Its effects in changing the colour of the hair are well known; and many ipstances have occurred, in which the hair has been turned from a deep black to gray in a few hours. From grief, blindness, gangrene, and even sudden death, or as it is emphatically called, a broken heart, have not unfre- quently resulted. From the excess of this passion,- persons who indulge in melancholy reflections for any length of time, become peevish and fretful; and so ex- tremely irritable that their minds find new food for sorrow in every object presented to them. Thus the whole imagination becomes seriously affected with confirmed melancholy, sometimes producing nervous fevers, or, what is still more dreadful, total insanity. The remedies, usually resorted to with salutary effects, are gentle opiates taken with caution; exercise on horseback; change of scene; the use of the swing,- which has in very many instances produced signally beneficial effects; friction of the body and limbs with flannel or a flesh brush—this friction ought to be fre- quently resorted to and continued, to give impetus to the blood, when the extremities become cold; wash- ing the body with strong vinegar, &c. Mild wines temperately administered, may be given, and should they produce acidity of the stomach and loss of appe- tite, exercise and other tonics ought to be resnrto^ + 78 GRIEF. Change of climate is often in desperate cases found be- neficial, also a diversion of the mind from its original imaginations, and particularly the frequent use of the tepid bath is recommended : and in cases of the sup- pression of the menstrual discharge occasioned by grief, the tepid bath has invariably been found beneficial. The powerful influence of the mind upon the womb, when affected by grief, can scarcely be computed by the best observers; who generally attribute to merely physical causes, effects which are to be sought for in the mind. But more will be developed on this import- ant subject, as regards female diseases, under another and more appropriate head. i INTEMPERANCE. Intemperance 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 scien- tific order. I will commence my remarks on intempe- rance, which-, in its broadest signification, means excess in the gratification of our propensities, passions, and even intellectual pursuits, by emphatically observing that it is generally found in strong and intimate con- nexion, when really traced to its origin, with the plea- sures and enjoyments, as well as with the miseries and misfortunes of mankind. I have before remarked un- der another head, that with regard to the elementary principles of the passions, propensities, and intellectual powers of man, we know absolutely nothing with cer- tainty; and that all we can possibly understand with respect to them, is derived from our consciousness of INTEMPERANCE. 79 their* existence, and from the effects they daily and hourly produce upon our observation. Every capacity or power of the human system, physical and intellectual, when exercised in modera** tion and with strict conformity to the laws of nature, is productive of enjoyment and happiness: this naftural and moderate exercise of our propensities, passions,, and mental energies, when matured into habits of life and character, we call temperance; and it- is the abusive degradation of those same intellectual powers, passions and propensities, by their unrestrained and excessive indulgence, to the destruction- of health and happiness, that we call intemperance. I will give some familiar examples of the application of these principles*, in or- der that they, may be fully comprehended by those for whom I write. We are all liable to hunger and thirst; and all of us require sleep, for the renovation of our bodily flnd mental powers, when fatigued. These are natural wants; and their gratifications are always es*- sential to health and happiness. We all know perfectly well, for instance, that when wt satisfy our hunger and 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 of body and mind, attended with* enjoy- ment and pleasure. But, on the other hand, when in eating or drinkingf we overload! and surcharge the sto- mach with meat and drink, and when in sleeping take more repose than is required for the renovation of our bodily and mental systems, our excesses are always productive of nausea, uneasiness, indigestion, and stu- pidity, and we habitually become gluttons, drunkards, and sluggards, and are a disgrace to ourselves and so- &.0 INTEMPERANCE. ciety. The same doctrine 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 riot and excess, they are al- ways conducive to health ; and productive of many of the enjoyments and pleasures of life ; but, when they gain the ascendancy of the moral feelings and rational powers, when they prostrate the bulwarks of religion and morality, and are indulged in all their debasing and destructive excesses, the progress of the passions proclaims the premature decay of health, strength, and happiness, and emphatically announces to the unfor- tunate victims of excess, that they are fallen indeed! In truth, what has just been remarked with regard to the natural wants and passions of men, may With strict justice be applied t6 the lofty and powerful energies of the mind itself. It has been truly remarked by an acute and profound investigator of the faculties of the mind, that " he who thinks with great intenseness and profundity, will not continue to do so for many succes- sive years": and in proof of this, I will note some in- stances which will have much weight in demonstrating the fact. Sir Isaac Newton, who was probably the greatest astronomer and mathematician of his own or any other age, several years previous to the close of his life, was utterly unable to comprehend the meaning of his own works ; in addition to which I will notice as a well authenticated fact, that the celebrated Dean Swift, the energies of whose mind were inferior to those of no literary man of the same age, several years previous to his death, became a driveller and confirmed idiot. Whether it be true, that intense, subtile, and powerful intellect, acts upon the mere carcass as a sharp sword does upon the scabbard; or whether the INTEMPERANCE. 81 mind itself becomes exhausted and worn out, by an overstrained and continued excitement of its powers, I leave for metaphysicians to determine: but we cer- tainly do know, and the experience of all ages and generations proves the fact, that excessive mental ex- ertion not only produces fatigue and lassitude in a few hours, but that if such exertion be continued for a few years in succession, it invariably blunts and wears down the keenest and soundest intellectual energies 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 exposition on ge- neral principles that can be given; because it embraces all the destructive excesses to which man is prone, and refers all those excesses to the abuses and degradations of his elevated and noble faculties. I commenced with remarking, and I wish the prin- ciple to be kept in view by the reader, that the vices of intemperance, when fairly traced to their origin, will always be found in connexion with the enjoyments and pleasures, as well as with the miseries and misfor- tunes 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 be refer- able to corporeal or bodily functions and sensations: this Class is composed of men who are properly deno- minated sensualists; in other words, they are indi- viduals who can only be rendered happy or miserable through the medium of the senses. Second, those whose general characters partake more of the nature nd habitual influence of the intellectual powers; and 11 82 INTEMPERANCE. of the emotions and passions of the mind; and whose enjoyments, pleasures, sufferings, and miseries, are more intimately connected with the mind and imagination; these may With much propriety be denominated men- talists. Among the great aggregate of mankind, the reality of the distinction between animal and intellect- ual man, as regards the native basis 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 bo- dily system; and may be called corporeal or bodily passions, when they become so powerful as to impel men to gluttony and drunkenness: desires and pro- pensities being nothing more, when considered in rela- tion to the corporeal system, than slighter shades of the physical wants and passions of men. Love and ambi- tion, on the contrary, are passions of the mind and imagination: they are the offspring of refined sensi- bility, 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 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; but I would ask any skeptic on this point, whether the love of literature, mathematics, astronomy, or any other science or intellectual pursuitr has any connexion whatever with propensities, wants, and passions, founded on the merely corporeal or bodily INTEMPERANCE. 83 functions of mankind. And surely it will not be questioned., that the food and nourishment required for exercising, giving pleasure to, and strengthening the mind, are essentially different from those required for the sustenance, health, and strength of the body: and we all know perfectly well, in reference to the corpo- real and intellectual functions and capacities of men, that the strong predominance of either class operates unfavourably and sometimes destructively to the other. The fact is, that we oftentimes find the loftiest and strongest passions and mental energies, connected with delicate and sometimes feeble corporeal organization, debility of stomach, and prostration of strength : nor is it unusual to observe, that those who possess uncom- monly high health and physical strength, are frequent- ly in the other extreme, as regards the exercise of the mind and passions. But further; every man who has acquired any experience, respecting those states of the physical system when the mind and passions act with the greatest force, must know that a full stomach al- ways blunts the mind and feelings; and that inanition or emptiness of the stomach, is favourable to intellect- ual operations. This fact is so well known, that the Creek Indians, in all their public deliberations on im- portant national concerns, use what they call the black drink, made of the parched leaves of the spice-wood boiled, which vomits them copiously and produces the inanition just mentioned: without which, they allege. they are inadequate to deliberating on their national affairs. Some medical writer has remarked, that phy- sical debility, and a diseased state of the system, impart, as it were, a preternatural excitement to the mind; and instances the cases of Boilieu, Erasmus, Pascal, Cicero, Galba, Pope, and several others, wrho were as remark- 84 INTEMPERANCE. able for the feebleness of their physical constitutions, as they were for their gigantic energies of intellect: the same writer also remarks, that abortive, feeble, and sickly children, almost invariably display powerful characteristics of intellect when growm to maturity; and instances the cases of the great Lord Lyttleton and Mrs. Ferguson, both of whom were seven months' children: to which he might have added the case of Richard the Third, who, according to Shakspeare's account, was " deformed, unfinished, and sent into this breathing world scarce half made up." On the other hand, it has frequently been remarked by men of acute 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 are conspicuous and renowned for great intellectual pow- ers, are almost invariably the very reverse of what may be called the corporeally contemptible realities. In de- monstration of this fact, innumerable instances might be given, in addition to those found in the persons of Alexander of Macedon, Frederick, king of Prussia, John Philpot Curran, Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamil- ton, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, Andrew Jack- son, and, lastly, the late Emperor Napoleon, who was nicknamed by his own soldiers, from his contemptible stature and proportions, the little corporal. I will here make an observation on this subject, which I do not recollect to have seen made by any writer. We are always to presume, that the soundness and strength of the physical constitutions of men, lead to great longe- vity or length of days: and it is a fact, as notorious as INTEMPERANCE. 85 •rue,that such men are seldom or never possessed of much mind; in other words, the sword is not suffi- ciently sharp to cut the scabbard, I am acquainted with a man, a pauper, of this country, who is said from good authority to be one hundred and ten years of age, who, I was informed on inquiry, never, even in the meridian of life, had more than a very ordinary mind: and Thomas Parre, 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 deficiency of mental energies, as for his lascivious and sensual propensities. " It wras ob- served of him," says the London Medical Museum, " that he used to eat often, both by night and by day, taking up with old cheese, milk, coarse bread, small beer, and whey; and which is more remarkable, he ate at midnight, a little before he died ; and on being opened after his death, his body was still found very fleshy. I would by no means wish to be understood, that there are no individuals possessed of high health and great physical strength, who are remarkable for strong intellectual powers; Newton, Johnson, Shak- speare, and a thousand other instances might be given as exceptions to the general rule just noticed; but wTe are all well convinced, not only that high health and strength lead to corporeal amusements and pursuits unfavourable to intellectual improvement, but that debility and disease act in various ways extremely fa- vourable to accessions of mental strength. In the first place, debility and disease lower the tone of those pas- sions which impel us to active exertion and amuse- ment; in other words, they impose a powerful re- straint on the physical appetites and propensities; circumscribe us to amusements and pursuits connected H 86 INTEMPERANCE. with the operations of the mind, confine us to the company of our elders, whose superior experience and knowledge are beneficial to our intellectual improve- ment; and "by keeping up an action in the brain, in common with other parts of the body, they tend to impart vigour to the intellectual faculties." From what has been sajd, I think it will appear evident, that from both natural and accidental circum- stances, there is a distinction to be dfawn between those men whose pleasures and pains are connected with physical or corporeal character, and those whose enjoyments and miseries are more intimately associated with the powers and passions of the mind; and it was for these reasons that I alleged in the outset, not only that intemperance was the offspring of various physical and intellectual causes, but that when traced to its origin, it 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 man- kind. This is a view of the subject of intemperance and its causes, which I presume has never before been taken by any writer; and although it must of neces- sity, like every thing else human, be subject to imper- fections both in data and conclusions, jet it may have some salutary tendencies. It may possibly invite the attention of the learned to further and more satisfac- tory investigations of the subject; it may exhibit the necessity of seeking for the real causes of intemperr ance, in removing its habits and effects from the human system ; and it may invite society to the exer- cise of more lenity and compassion, when labouring for the reformation of its unfortunate and melancholy victims. Abuse and degradation were never yet in- fluential in reforming the intemperate; for, what INTEMPERANCE. 67 interest did any man ever yet feel for the* preservation 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 of the savage, the haunts of the learned, the hovel of the beggar, and in the palaces of kings; its causes are as various as the capacities of man for enjoyments and pleasures, and as multiplied as the various miseries and misfortunes to which he is subjected through life: what a farce then it must be for any physician to attempt to remove the different causes of intemper- ance, without knowing what those causes are, and by the application of one specific remedy fo such an infi- nite variety of causes. 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? Would you soothe the mental anguish of remorse, without the consolations of reli- gion, 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 in- tense by the application of stimulants: in the varied and endless Catalogue of stimulating powers are to be found all the great allurements to dissipation and con- firmed intemperance; but it will hardly be contended, that one grade of stimulants possesses the same strength and adaptation of allurement, with all the varieties of mankind. Physically speaking, one man's system is- 88 INTEMPERANCE. excited to pleasurable sensations by snuff, the system of another By tobacco, of another by wine, of a fourth by spirits and opium, of a fifth by highly seasoned and stimulating 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 restraints of either the moral or intel- lectual energies of the self-devoted victims. You will frequently hear the devotees of any, or all the above excesses, execrating the very agents they employ in wearing dowm their constitutions with incidental dis- eases and premature decay, and moralizing with the finest touches of elocution on the heinousness and im- morality of such dangerous and degrading excesses; and what does all this prove? Why, it demonstrates conclusively, that the habits of dissipation and intem- perance, 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 torrents, before which all human resolutions, and efforts of preservation, sink to rise no more! There are two periods of human life; there are two marked and distinct periods in the progressive excesses of dissipation and intemperance. In the rise of life, we act u.pon every thing around us from a con- fidence in oar own strength, and a consciousness of being able to master and 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 resort to expedients for warding off diseases, dangers, and death. These two periods are strongly marked in the lives and INTEMPERANCE. 89 characters of all men ; from the general, who achieves victories in his youth, and sustains defeat in his old age, to the man of intellectual powers and pursuits, who, like the immortal Milton, writes a "Paradise Lost," in the meridian of life and intellectual resolu- tion, and a " Paradise Regained," when the tremors of old age and irresolution have erept over him. This is a faithful picture of a man of dissipation and intemper- ance. 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 withstand any temptation to dangerous indulgence. In the formation of intemperate habits, this is a pre- carious and hostile ground: the Scripture says, "let him who stands, take heed lest he fall." The habit of intemperance is of slow or rapid growth, in propor- tion to the strength or weakness of our resolutions to withstand temptation. Where many and strong motives combine to retard our progress in excesses of intemperance, we advance slowly and almost imper- ceptibly to self-destruction. When the animations of youth, and the convivialities of conversation, are suffi- cient for the production of pleasurable sensations: when we-are highly susceptible of impressions from the varied charms of nature: and while the brilliant prospects of along and animated life, seem " to bid an eternal Eden smile around us," the 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 pro- portion as the repetition of these enjoyments causes us to lose the sentiment of novelty, and especially when satiety of such enjoyments produces lassitude and cold- ness, we invariably descend to more sensual and H 2 * 12 90 INTEMPEllANCE". intense expedients, for renewing sensations of pleasure: and unfortunately for mankind, those expedients are too often connected with the dissipations and intem- perance of the glutton, the epicure, the opium-eater, and the drunkard. This descent to confirmed habits of intemperance, in all its varied stages of degradation, need not be delineated ; these graduated debasements are visible in every department of society, and are so common, as almost everywhere 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 those passions of the mind, which we call love, hope, ambition, &c. With regard to the pleasures of memory, they are as various and unlimited as the objects by which we are surrounded in nature: they comprise every thing cog- nizable by all the senses*of man, the impressions 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 pa- INTEMPERANCE. 9f rents, our early friends, and all the objects of our youth- ful attachments ; the houses in which we were born and educated, the haunts of our youthful and innocent diversions, and all the objects of our early pursuits. The pleasures of memory also comprise all we have learned of the heroism, the magnanimity, and the in- telligence of the great warriors and sages of antiquity; they, in fact, embrace all the recollections of the mind, in its recognisance 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 wrell as pleasures of me- mory ? There are; and here commences the cata- logue of dissipations, the first impulse of which is to be found in the mind. Was it an inherent baseness and brutality of native character, that rendered Robert Burns intemperate? Was it a bestial love of the liquid poison, which finally destroyed him, that origi- nated and confirmed those habits of intemperance which sent him to an early grave ? No: his dissipa- tions commenced in the convivialities and pleasures of a refined, delicate, and superior mind; and were con- firmed into habits of intemperance too stubborn for the eontrol of his moral energies, by the lowliness of his fortunes, the poignancy and vulgarity of his sufferings, and the pains of his memory! 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 distresses, when contemplating objects yet dear and painful to his memory, in the following in- spired and tender strains: '-ye mind me of departed hours—departed, never to return !" The fate of Ro- bert Burns has been the fate of thousands, whose names are lost to fame, and who have sunk into obscure and 92 INTEMPERANCE. lonely graves, unpitied and unknown. Thomas 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 his theological writings, and'the pains of his memory, led to those confirmed habits of dissipation and intem- perance, 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 intemperance. Howr many millions have sunk into the vortex of in- temperance,, from the influence of. those pains* of me- mory, called an accusing conscience ? Physician, " canst thou minister to a mind diseased," by medical prescriptions which can only affect the body ? Surely not. The pleasures and pains of the understanding come next under consideration: and present such a field for the investigation of philosophy, as can only be deline- ated in outlines. Curiosity is the first passion, or rather emotion of the human understanding; it leads the mind to the investigation and scrutiny of all the ob- jects 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 enig- mas of eternity itself! The mind of man is naturally attached to truth, and always experiences pleasure in INTEMPERANCE. 93 the discovery of itrwhen the disclosure is found bene- ficial to comfort, health, fame, or to enjoyments of any description; in all these cases^ and innumerable others,. we experience what may be called the pleasures of the understanding. But has not the human understand- ing also its pains? I think so; we all know perfectly well, that the period of death must arrive: and does not this certain anticipation give pain to thousands? Is not the fear of death painful ? I will admit that the uncertainty of the moment, wisely and benevolently- hidden from us by Providence., in some measure blunts the painful anticipation of death ; but what are the mental pangs of the convict, who is given to under- stand that he must be executed to-morrow! Both the pleasures and pains of the understanding have relations to the discovery of truth. Suppose a man be bitten by a serpent, of whose character he knows nothing; is he not alarmed ? Suppose that he immediately dis- covers the reptile to be harmless; do not the mental pains of alarm cease: and does he not experience plea- s-are from the consciousness of security from danger? Here the pleasure of the understanding is derived from a beneficial discovery: but suppose he ascertain that the reptile by which he has been assailed is of a venom- ous and fatal character, and that he clearly under- stands his immediate destiny to be death, are not his mental pangs identified with the pains of the under- standing ? I have not space, in a work like this, to go into a philosophical detail of the important truths con- nected with this subject; and regret to be compelled to differ from the authority of the great Doctor Rush, who alleges that the pleasures of the understanding have no antagonists in pain. A knowledge of facts is the aggregate amount of the truths acquired by the; u INTEMPERANCE. operations of the understanding: where these acquisi- tions of knowledge develope consequences beneficial to human enjoyment and happiness, they are always productive of pleasure to the mind, through the medi- um of the understanding: but where, by the operations of the understanding, the mind is brought into a full view of dangerous and disastrous consequences, the results are always painful and unhappy. This I be- lieve to be a full and fair statement of the case; and were it not, I would like to know what influence in the religious reformation of mankind Could possibly be derived from faith in the belief of future rewards and punishments ? Ignorant of consequences, what to man would be the happiness or misery of either prosperity or misfortune ? And how are either t6 be calculated without the operations of the understanding ? can a man even calculate the results of a plain question in arithmetic, without the operations of this mental power? It is alone by the pervading and subtile powers of the understanding, that we are enabled to feel the realities of either intellectual pain or plea- sure, happiness or misery. The memory of man acts upon nothing but facts and events which are past and gone; but the understanding operates also on the pre- sent condition and circumstances of mankind, and even extends its views-to futurity; and these are the reasons why the pleasures and pains of the understand- ing are more intense than those of the memory. These are, also, the reasons why we are led astray by the festivities of present dissipations and intemper- ance ; and these are, also, the true reasons, why wre resort to the banquet and the flowing bowl, to drown both past and present sorrows connected with the mind. Thus we see, that both joys and sorrows are INTEMPERANCE. 95 capable of producing habits of intemperance and dis- sipation. Physician, can your medical drugs restrain those joys, or remove those sorrows which spring from the mind itself, when all the maxims,of moral wis- dom and philosophy have failed ? No ; you must re- sort to the restraining powers, and the consolations of religion and morality. The pleasures and pains of the imagination com- mence where those of the memory and the under- standing terminate.: and there is this specific differ- ence between them; the powers of the understanding and memory operate on facts and probabilities, while those of the imagination riot in the wild excesses of fiction, romance, and absolute improbabilities. The range of the human imagination seems to be unlimit- ed ; and what is very extraordinary, and something difficult to be accounted for, its vigour and creative powers seem to be proportioned to the weakness and want of cultivation of the understanding. All the re- cords which have descended to us from very ancient times, seem to favour the presumption, that the empire of imagination, fiction, and romance, in the dark pe- riods of antiquity, gave a tone and character to the hu- man mind; and that the early records of history only teem with romantic fictions which defy belief, and with delineations of prodigies which never existed, be- cause the philosophic investigations of the understand- ing had not yet corrected the errors of the imagination. It was probably for these reasons, that Homer, in his " Iliad," admits and describes a plurality of gods: and that Ossian's fancy saw the ghosts of departed heroes who had been slain in battle, half viewless among the clouds of night. Had the progress and improvement of Homer's understanding enabled him to arrive at 96 INTEMPERANCE. the sublime conclusion which announces the existence of one great first cause, he never could have delineated in poetic numbers the distinctive characters of his fictitious deities; and, had Ossian not been ignorant enough to believe in ghosts, his imagination never could have deceived him in the belief, that those of his forefathers were witnessing from the clouds the sanguinary horrors of his battles! The fact seems to be, as I have said before, that the empire of imagina- tion commences where the matter of fact and philoso- phic operations of the understanding and memory cease; for I think it will not be contested, even by men of ordinary intelligence, that it is impossible to imagine the existence of a thing which we are convinced has no being; or to fancy a thing to be true, which we know to be a falsehood. Can any man imagine that sugar is bitter, gall sweet, or that two and two make five ? No: the truth is, that a knowledge of facts and realities destroys all the frost-works of fancy and fic- tion, and demonstrates clearly that philosophy and science have nearly extinguished the fire of poetic ge- nius. In other words, few men can be poets in this age of philosophic improvement, who will not borrow or steal from the old writers, or who cannot find sub- jects of poetic inspiration, on which little or nothing is or can be certainly known. Newton or Locke would have cut as contemptible a figure in poetry, as Homer and Ossian would have exhibited in astronomy and metaphysics. We all know that the fire of the imagination is weakened and destroyed by old age and experience ; and that those who always deal in fictions are always the victims of folly. The pleasures of imagination are always the most brilliant and powerful in the youth- INTEMPERANCE. 97 ful mind; and the reasons are obvious. This is the period when all impressions made on the mind, by dis- closing to us the opening beauties of nature and the imposing splendours of creation, are entirely novel and without alloy. This is the period when none of the cares and anxieties of life overshadow and begloom the fairy prospect of fancied and endless felicities to come; and this, too, is the period when our youthful friendships are untainted by a knowledge of the base1 ness and selfishness of mankind; and our loves of the supposed divinity of the female character are unalloy- ed by those appalling discoveries of experience, wisdom, and philosophy, which teach us that every thing hu- man is imperfect, and unworthy of our idolatrous de- votions ! These are the reasons why many modern philosophers have been of opinion, that the state of sa- vage and uncultivated nature, as regards a more refined condition of the human mind, is much more conducive to human happiness than any other; for, says these men, " where ignorance is bliss, it is surely folly to be wise." If these delusive fascinations of the imagination could continue through life, uncorrected by the bitter lessons of experience and wisdom; or if man could be so educated, as never to seek or experience happiness but in the realities of life and nature, the wild delu- sions of fancy would never lead his judgment astray in the pursuits of happiness; nor would he ever be discontented with the moderate enjoyments which the realities of existence afford him. But one of the most difficult lessons in wisdom and philosophy is to be able to acquire and preserve through life that balance of character which preserves to us the innocent delu- sions of the fancy, without suffering them to interfere with, and ultimately to destroy, our rational attach- I 13 98 INTEMPERANCE. incuts to the colder realities of life. It is the want of this just equipoise between philosophic moderation and strength of judgment, and the acute sensibilities allied to a cultivated imagination, that constitutes the real vortex in which so many men of enlightened and lofty genius have sunk to rise no more. Relying on the pleasures of imagination for happiness in early life;' never dreaming that they are in a world of sad re- tdities, which will involve them in misfortunes, against which nothing but the exercise of prudence and judg- ment can guard them, and continuing to enjoy the present moment, without looking forward to the pro- bable and untoward contingencies of futurity; they are never aroused from their brilliant and illusory vi- sions of fanciful and imaginary happiness, until they are overwhelmed with real miseries and misfortunes, and pressed upon by those imperious calls of want and necessity, which cannot be silenced by visionary or imaginary means. Here commence those pains of the imagination, those lacerations of sensibility, and those horrible anticipations of real and unmitigated suffer- ing, which no human language can describe, and which are so often seen to goad the man of genius and supe- rior endowments to dissipation and intemperance, and precipitate him to all the desperations attendant on ruined fortunes, and an early grave! This is the vortex that has swallowed thousands of the greatest men that ever lived; this is the bottomless ocean that has en- gulfed millions of the brightest and most useful men that ever had existence : it is useless to speak of the love of liquor being the cause of intemperance, as ap** plied to men of lofty and powerful energies of mind and it is worse than useless to attempt the reformation of such men, without knowing and reaching the real INTEMPERANCE. 99 causes of their derelictions. Nearly all that has been written on the subject of intemperance has been superficial and nugatory, and confined to the mere contemplation of its effects. Would you prescribe remedies for the mere effects of a disease, without knowing and striking at the real causes ? Would you attempt to guard yourself against the pointed dagger of an assassin, without paralyzing the arm that held it to your bosom ? I will admit that you may remove the diseases and habits of intemperance, where they are merely connected with the corporeal system and physical sensations of men, and have nothing whatever to do with the mind, by the?administration of medical drugs, which will act on that corporeal system, and by the substitution of new bodily habits for old ones; but beyond these points you cannot go by physical means: when you advance on the confines of the mind and the intellectual passions, you are in a new region, and must adapt your means to the origin and nature of the disease; you must employ the moral powers of dissua- sive eloquence, the divine consolations of religion, held out by Scripture to erring and sinful man, and its de- nunciations against the conduct of the self-destroyer; you must employ the matsims of philosophy, and the admonitory precepts of true wisdom; you must soothe the victim of intemperate despair, with hopes of a bet- ter fate, instead of irritating him by abusive and de- grading denunciations on account of his folly. But, as this is a most important subject, I will endeavour to elucidate it a little further. When the causes of disease are connected with the mind and its passions, mere physical restraints and even punish- ments will amount to nothing in attempting a cure. There is a class of mankind, I will admit, who, like 100 INTEMPERANCE. children whose moral susceptibilities cannot be acted upon, must be restrained from excesses, and even the commission of crimes, by ignominious corporeal ter- rors and punishments; this class of men always pos- sesses more of the physical or corporeal, than of the moral and mental character, and must be acted on by pillories, whipping-posts, and sometimes gibbets. But terrors and punishments which merely affect the body, have no influence with those men whose minds and passions are morbidly affected, or those who are under strong moral impressions of rectitude of conduct. The whole range of martyrs, who have suffered unspeakable torments in the cause of religion and patriotism, demonstrates these facts. Would you then attempt to restrain from intemperance, by mere cor- poreal and physical means, the man whose mind and passions are affected? Certainly not; every man whose character is decidedly intellectual, feels that his native dignity is outraged and degraded by corporeal and ignominious restraints or punishments, and will in nine instances out of ten, destroy himself to escape from his own sentiments of degradation. While the genius of conquest, in the person of Napoleon, was lowering by successive victories all the national ban- ners of Europe, a French soldier of the line presented himself to the emperor, and desired to be shot. When interrogated as to his reasons, he replied that he had been sentenced to receive ignominious corporeal pun- ishment for some misdeed, rather than to submit to which, he preferred death: the impression made on the mind of Napoleon was such, that ignominious corporeal punishments were immediately abolished throughout the French armies. It is almost needless to remark, on those passions of INTEMPERANCE. 101 the mind, called hope, love, ambition, &c.; that they are all productive of pleasures and pains, in proportion as their influence is bounded by moderation, or cha- racterised by excess. The pleasures of hope have been finely celebrated by Campbell; and are well known to have a powerful influence in blunting the miseries and misfortunes of mankind during life, and even in illuminating their anticipations of a happy im- mortality beyond the grave! But the pleasures of hope have their counterpoise of evils and miseries; and when indulged in to excess, or founded on visionary and impossible principles, frequently terminate in disappointment and despair. Here wisdom, fortitude, religion, and philosophy are probably the only essen- tial and efficient preventives against these intem- perate palliatives of disappointed hope, which have led thousands to drown themselves, their fortunes and their miseries, in the bowl. The miseries of despair and disappointed hope are seldom the portion of those whose educations have been moral and judicious, or who have been early taught to distinguish the realities of life from those illusive and visionary expectations of it, which never can be realized even by the greatest prosperity. The visionary gildings with which youth- ful feeling and animating anticipation invest the untried scenes of life, always dissolve before the les- sons of wisdom and experience; and where these privations arc followed by positive misfortunes, from which there exists no hope of redemption, intemper- ance almost invariably succeeds, as the only remedy by which temporary alleviation can be obtained. But this conduct is founded in short-sighted and desperate policy; because, to the mental pangs of misfortune are always added the miseries of corporeal disease. I 2 102 INTEMPERANCE. Love is likewise an intellectual passion, and, like hope, is productive of pleasure and pain, happiness and misery. I have before spoken of this passion, as con- nected with the enjoyments and happiness of man ; it now becomes my duty to take a brief view of the sombre colourings of the picture, and to develope some of the causes with which its miseries are con- nected. Love is always founded on perceptions of real or imaginary perfections. When this elevated and ennobling sentiment is based on the perception of qualities which really exist, it invariably leads to hap- piness, and is an unerring indication of superior wis- dom ; but when it is founded in errors of the imagina- tion, and in the false perception of merely visionary qualities which have no existence, it generally even- tuates in misery, and is a decided mark of overween- ing stupidity and folly. The first step to misery, in wedded love, where the qualities of either of the parties are not sufficiently noble to sustain the passion. is the discovery of blemishes of person, disposition, mind, or character, which w7ere not known previously to marriage. This discovery produces a chill of the affections, wrhich leads to a more narrow and scruti- nizing investigation of the causes of our having been deceived. If they are found to have originated with ourselves, wre invariably undervalue and detest our owrn judgment, which would suffer us thus to be deceived, and immediately become dissatisfied with ourselves; and it requires no great exercise of wisdom to knowT, that those who are dissatisfied with them- selves are displeased with all those around them. On the contrary, if it is found on investigation that we I have been deceived by the hypocrisy of the individual to whom we are tied by bonds which death alone can INTEMPERANCE. 103 dissolve, contempt and detestation are the inevitable consequences; for it is no more possible for a man or woman of moral discernment to love an unworthy ob- ject, knowing it to be such, than it is for a human being to hate the presence of virtue combined with peerless beauty. Here then commences that series of domestic and conjugal miseries, which defies and baffles the power of mere language to describe: and the parties soon become estranged from, and perfectly hateful to each other. Home becomes a hell; the tavern and gaming tables are resorted to; to bad com- pany habits of intemperance succeed, and the event is, death by confirmed habits of intoxication, or life im- bittered by negligence, disease, poverty and want! I am the more particular in mentioning the effects of " love to hatred," and in tracing those effects to their causes, not only because the picture, which is true to life, may be instrumental in preventing deceptions and hypocrisy in courtship, but because it may have a tendency to illustrate the eternal truth, that no miseries can ever be drowned in the midnight bowl, unless the chalice contain the poison of death itself! I said that love was always founded on the perception of real or visionary perfections; with that founded on amiable and noble qualities, I have here nothing to do, because it is always permanent, and always unshaken by mis- fortunes. This position requires no further proof than can be found in every country, and in the sphere of every man's observations in life. Where, however, the attachment is founded on illusory perceptions, it is not only short-lived in itself, but eternally liable to destruction by variations of fortune. Some persons, indeed all individuals of the human species are formed by nature for enjoying the felicities of attachment and 104 INTEMPERANCE. love. With these elemental} principles, and with a heart alive to the tenderest sensibilities, the devourer of novels and romances, in which the human character is invested with perfections that never pertained to it, is peculiarly liable to miseries and misfortunes in love. I say once for all, and wish it to be borne in mind by the reader, that no inordinate and excessive passion, not even that of love itself, was ever the offspring of correct perceptions of human nature, such as it really is. Where is the man or woman of reflection, who does not know that human nature is not perfection; and who is not perfectly convinced, that it is a com- pound of personal and moral beauties and imperfec- tions. Those who are in time made acquainted with these philosophic truths, and have early learned to know that man is a compound, to say the best we can of him, of virtue and vice, strength and weakness, wisdom and folly, will never experience any of the passions in their extremes. Their loves and hatreds, their friendships and enmities, and indeed all their other passions, are true to nature, and therefore always characterized by moderation. Loves and hatreds are only felt in the extreme, because in the former case we are blind to imperfections which really exist; and because, in the latter instances, we shut our eyes against many noble traits of character, which would mitigate our unqualified hatreds. The same may be said of our friendships and enmities, and indeed of all our other passions: even the sneaking scoundrel avarice, if he did not overrate the object of his desires, would abandon his swindling propensities, and relax his gripe on the miseries and misfortunes of mankind. It is the immoderate overrating the objects of our pas- sions, that produces all their excesses; against which INTEMPERANCE. 105 no human being can be guarded, unless through the medium of wisdom and intelligence, wrhich alone can stamp the genuine value on every object of human desire or pursuit. Few instances are to be found on record, where the miseries of disappointed love have been experienced in the extreme, by persons whose errors of imagination had been corrected by experience, and the acquisitions of true wisdom ; and even where all the agonies of disappointed love have been felt in their excesses, they produce different effects upon the different sexes. On women, they induce a disposition for retirement and a solitary life, which sometimes ends in confirmed melancholy, sometimes in insanity, and not unfrequently in a broken heart. With man, on the other hand, the excesses of unfortunate love produce very different effects; they urge him to mix in crowded assemblies, in the hum of business, and in the haunts of men; they dispose him to attempt a for- getfulness of his miseries, by exploring new scenes of life, in countries to which he is a stranger, by encoun- tering the dangers of the field and flood; and by drowning the memory of his misfortunes in the oblivion of the bowl. Of the miseries of ambition, and the excesses to which they lead, the space allotted will not allow much to be said. Like love, the passion of ambition, both in moderation and excess, depends for strength on the value we set on subjects of ambitious desire. To those whose wisdom teaches them the true value of earthly objects, the passion of ambition is always productive of enjoyments; but when an over-estimate of the objects of ambitious pursuit arises from false though dazzling perceptions of those objects, the pas- sion always acquires an uncontrolled dominion in the 14 106 INTEMPERANCE. human breast, producing misery to the individual, and frequently the most dreadful desolations to society and mankind. When ambition is confined to moral bounds, in other words, where it is restricted to doing good, it becomes a powerful auxiliary to religion and morality, and to the peace and happiness of mankind. " But talents angel bright, if wanting worth, Are shining instruments in false ambition's hand, To finish faults illustrious, and give infamy renown.'''' Where ambition is laudable, and restricted to benefi- cent and moral objects, it serves to dignify and adorn • the human character: and even where thus character- ized, it meets with failures and disappointments, it produces no serious and lasting miseries to its votaries. The real passion of ambition is of a heaven-born cha- racter ; it is founded in a strong desire to he remem- bered with gratitude and admiration by posterity and future ages, and is the legitimate offspring of a vital and deep-seated sentiment of immortality ! We see its indications in every department of life, and in every age of the world. The monumental inscriptions of ancient times, the mummied catacombs, and the great pyramids of Egypt themselves bear witness of the universal prevalence of this all-absorbing sentiment of immortality, and of the dreadful contemplations which accompany the anticipations of being swept from hu- man memory by the hand of time I The desire to be remembered is as obvious in the school-boy who inscribes his name on a tree or a rock, as in the lofty and headlong careers of Charlemagne, Alexander, and Napoleon, who desolated nations and overturned em- pires to give their achievements to posterity and future ages. When the passion of ambition, of whatever INTEMPERANCE. 107 grade, or to whatever objects directed, is disappointed in its expectations, it invariably leads to dissatisfaction with life and mankind, and frequently plunges its vo- taries into the vortex of intemperance and debauchery. These effects are not only confined to the ambition of man possessing lofty and powerful energies of mind, whose objects of ambition are correspondent in eleva- tion, but they are discoverable in all the inferior orders of society, and in all the subordinate ranks of intellect- ual power: they are in fact, as observable in the Caesar who \s disappointed in the possession of an imperial crown, as in the humble votary of literature and science, or the hook-fingered and swindling devotee of avarice, with whom wealth is the idol of adoration ! Let any of these men be finally and permanently dis- appointed in the first and great objects of their ambi- tion, and if they are destitute of resolution, fortitude, wisdom, and philosophical energy of intellect, they invariably sink in the whirlpool of intemperance, de- bauchery, and sottishness. Alexander the Great died from the influence of a fit of intemperance, probably because he had no more worlds to conquer; and it is needless to advert to the thousands of instances, which everywhere present themselves, of men of all ranks and grades of life, who sink into insignificance and obscurity, from the effects of intemperance brought on them by disappointed ambition. I have now, I think, shown some of the various causes of intemperance, and probably to the satisfac- tion of reflecting men, traced some of them to the physical and mental constitutions of men : as far as it is practicable to be done by observations of mere effects. In this brief essay, by no means correspond- ent with the importance of the subject, I have neither 108 INTEMPERANCE. followed nor profited by the hackneyed theories which have heretofore been published ; I have endeavoured to view human nature as it is, and to remark the deve- lopments of the causes of intemperance, as they have appeared to me in my medical pursuits; and if I have not been as successful as might be desired by medical men, who are the real friends of humanity, I may at least have furnished some materials which may be useful to such fathers of the profession as Mitchell, Physic, Hosack, and many others, who are engaged in developing the mysticisms of medical science, and rendering them intelligible to mankind. RELIGION. Thts principle or affection of the human mind, pro- perly defined and well understood, is a deeply devo- tional sentiment of awe, veneration and love, for that inscrutable Being who created the universe in his wis- dom; supports it by his almighty power; and regulates the machinery of nature, in beneficence and love to his creatures. Considered merely in relation to his vital and ani- mal functions, man seems to occupy the highest point in the scale of animated nature; but notwithstanding this distinguished elevation, with some grand and dis- tinctive exceptions to the general principles of exist- ence, and those of a strong and decided character, he seems in many respects to be allied to the inferior orders of creation. Like the merely animal orders of nature inferior to himself, he is animated by loves and friendships, hatreds and enmities; and by all the other passions and propensities incidental to the merely RELIGION. 109 animal creation. In common with the elephant, the lion, the dog, and the fox, his heart seems to be the seat of life or vitality, and his brain the sensorium of intel- lectual existence! Like them he is furnished with a stomach to digest his food, and a heart to propel the vital fluid through the arterial and venal systems. Like the inferior orders of creation, man is susceptible of the influence of heat and cold, and all the variations of temperature incidental to the changes of the sea- sons ; like them he can he deluged by rains, frozen by the snows of winter, and melted by the heats of sum- mer. Like them he is subjected to physical diseases, which can be mitigated or removed by the same means ; and like them he is animated by strong senti- ments of self-preservation, and entertains an instinctive and powerful dread of both pain and dissolution ! But 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 being in creation, who can raise his contemplations to the Deity, and experience a sublime sentiment of awe and veneration for the unknown author of his existence. The only^being in creation capable of experiencing a strong solicitude for a know- ledge of his own origin, or who can direct his views and anticipations to a future existence, beyond the boundaries of time! He is the only being absolutely known to himself, who can form a conception of space 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 infinitely inadequate conception of the omnipotence of God ! Man seems to unite in his moral and intellectual com- K 110 RELIGION. position, the human extremes of strength and weakness, wisdom and folly. In infancy, or when not associated with his fellow-beings, he is a naked, defenceless, de- pendent and timid animal; exposed to diseases of every multiplied character ; to dangers beyond arithmetical computation; and to death in all its varied and gigan- tic forms: yet, with all these incipient weaknesses, and seeming imperfections of his nature, in the plenitude of life and intellectual power, and when associated with his fellow-beings in social compact, he has satisfied his na- tural wrants; rendered himself independent of every thing but his Creator; driven from his presence, enslaved to his purposes, or destroyed by the machinery and chemical power of his warlike inventions, all animals hostile to his life and his preservation; and compelled the earth, the air, the waters, and the woods, to yield him the sustenance and even the luxuries of life, and to furnish him with the means of construct- ing his habitation. He has done more. By referring his knowledge of particular facts, to the discovery of abstract and general principles, he has measurably un- folded the elements of science; by which he measures the earth, and discloses the laws which regulate the solar system : ascertains the distances and relative po- sitions of the heavenly bodies; and determines the lo- cation of his own globe among them: discloses the component parts of which the substratum of the earth itself is compounded, and by an effort of microscopic vision and profound sagacity, gives you a satisfactory analysis of a physical atom! Nor is this all: from obscure and imperfect original discoveries in nautical science, he has converted the bark canoes of the wan- dering savage into vehicles of burden for international commerce, and imposing engines of war; and instead RELIGION. Ill of the petty barks of the ancients, by which they pro- secuted an insignificant traffic along the shores and inlets of the Mediterranean, he has constructed ships of bulk and 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 secu- rity through trackless, unknown, and almost shoreless oceans, to countries so remote as not even to be found in delineation on the mariner's chart! Nor do the greatness of his discoveries, nor the sublime elevations of his character, terminate here. The progressive im- provements of man in literature, from hieroglyphics, which are the signs of things,* to the use of letters, which are the signs or symbols of sounds, afford new and astonishing demonstrations of his powers. We have proofs before us, if we will advert for a moment to the present state of mankind, of all the progressive stages of improvement, through which he has passed in 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 fic- tions of his early history, to arrive at the truth. A collective view of the present inhabitants of the globe, will furnish ample demonstrations of the following facts. In a state of savage and illiterate nature, tradi- tion, as among the Indians of our own forests, afforded the only means of communication between the pre- sent and future races of mankind. But, in proportion as man began to progress in discoveries relating to the arts and sciences, he became disgusted and dissatisfied with the errors and misrepresentations of oral tradition, and sought various expedients to perpetuate v to his posterity, authentic testimonials of his sagacity, and durable monuments of his intellectual powers. Hie- 112 religion. roglyphics and pyramids were resorted to in some countries, and 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 whictt would revive and perpetuate his knowledge and discoveries to future times, until literature arose to record in unfading characters the intelligence, the im- provements in science, and the fate of past generations. The discovery of, and the progressive improvement 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 writ ! It is from this divine and in- spired wrork, 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 fellow-creatures, and himself. The reveries of all the sages and philosophers of antiquity, with the immortal Plato at their head, sink into cold insignificance, when compared with the divine consolations afforded to man, by that pure and unsophisticated religion, which is derived from the word of God: and while speaking of the pure and undefiled religion of Jesus Christ, I will first show what it is not; second, the abuse of its doctrines; third, what it really is ; and fourth, its bene- fits and consolations, in health and ptrosperity, sickness and misfortune. * The virtues and the boasted-wisdom of man, puri- fied and improved by the highest efforts of human RELIGION. 113 reason, would be nothing without the support and consolations of the doctrines of the Scriptures. The magnificence, splendour, and sublimity of the great works of nature, from which alone, without the divine inspirations to be found in the word of God, he is ena- bled to form but an inadequate and finite conception of the attributes of an Almighty Creator. Thus cir- cumstanced—thus surrounded by mysteries which he cannot explain to himself—feeling a strong and deep- seated natural sentiment 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 consolation in the hour of death; solve the otherwise inscrutable and sublime mysteries of his own existence; and reveal to him the dreadful enig- mas of eternity. In fact, when man surveys, with an attentive and philosophic eye, the vast and complicated machinery of the universe; when he discovers that all this complicated and boundless machinery is subject to the irresistible influence of laws infinitely beyond his conception; when he essays to embody his own conceptions of the attributes of that Being who cre- ated, and who rules and governs all; and, in fine, when he makes the feeble attempt, unaided by divine reva- lation, to identify his hopes of immortality and future happiness with the unchangeable laws of created na- ture, so vast, so boundless, 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 uni- verse ?—am I not lost in the immensity of his works, and the boundlessness of his power ?" Mere opinions, deduced from the boldest efforts of K 2 15 114 RELIGION. 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 futurity. These are the reasons, in all probability, why the an- cient sages, who hoped for and partially believed in immortality, were unable to satisfy themselves with rational and conclusive proofs of the future existence of the human soul: these are also probably the rea- sons, and they are founded in the wisdom and provi- dence of God himself, why the great truths of immor- tality were veiled, in all ages anterior to the true gospel dispensation, from the boasted sagacity and reasoning powers of the philosophers and sages of antiquity: for, could these men have arrived at any definite and cer- tain conclusions on the future destinies of the human race, without the moral purifications of true Christi- anity, the consequences wrould have been dreadful to society and mankind, as can be easily demonstrated. Suppose a man were enabled by the unaided efforts of reason to demonstrate conclusively to himself, that annihilation, or an absolute and entire negation of ex- istence, was his future and irrevocable doom; what would be 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 valueless ? Would it not loosen every strong tie he feels on life, and sicken him with that lapse of time which must so soon reduce him to nothing? Where, under this gloomy and horrid anticipation, would be his affections for his parents, his wife his family, his country: what would become of the per- RELIGION. 115 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 insatiable desires of present and future happiness, under the certain con- viction that the elevated and noble energies of his soul would explode and be lost forever, when his tenement of clay would become a clod of the valley ? But let it be supposed that the powers of reason, unaided by the holy inspirations of 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 des- tiny, was absolutely irrevocable by his own conduct: and what would then be the consequences ? With so brilliant a career of future happiness and celestial glory in full view, would not all the poor enjoyments of this life fade away, and even all the splendours of the visi- ble creation become to him. a blank ? Would he take upon himself the cares of a family, assume the labo- rious 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 distinguish the darker and more sombre co- lourings of earthly objects ? But with unalloyed and interminable happiness 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 116 RELIGION. gratuitously, evils and sufferings 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 speechless agonies of the damned; that nothing he could do would alleviate so dreadful, disastrous, 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 fascinations of nature ? where all the varied and imposing splendours of the visible crea- tion ? What delight could he possibly experience in the performance of his moral duties, or the practice of virtues, which must terminate in a future condition infinitely worse than annihilation itself ? Would not these dark and dreadful anticipations of a period which must soon arrive be eternally present to his imagina- tion, with all their attendant horrors ? Would they not haunt his waking dreams of future misery, and disturb his midnight slumbers with spectral phantoms of the sufferings of the damned, too frightful and tremendous for delineation! But what, under these awful and afflicting expectations, from which there were no dis- tant hopes of exemption, would be the character and conduct of this unfortunate and miserable victim ? Would he not say to himself:—"What 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 hap- piness of society, or the moral conduct and regulations of mankind ? Before the setting 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 splendour RELIGION. 117 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 be- nighted soul, predestined to endless torments, no distant ray of feeble hope can ever dawn !"-------Sectarians, 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 in this faithful picture the condition to which your narrow and selfish doctrines would confine the great mass of mankind ! Approach, and behold a picture which might make you shudder for your blasphemous presumptions in judging between erring and feeble man and his Maker; and wresting the high prerogative of divine and eternal justice from 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 necessity terminate in future misery; what allurements to religion and morality do you hold out to those who, 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 and 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 118 RELIGION. sought with purity of heart? And that he can ever be the voluntary devotee of religious errors, thereby sinning 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 ever- lasting misery, by the entertainment of religious qnnions which he knew to be wrong ? The truth is, that the supposition implies, not only a contradiction in language, but an absolute and positive contradiction in the facts themselves. But let us suppose for a moment, that your sect or persuasion alone are right in their faith and religious opinions, and 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 dis- passionate eye, and traced its malignant and desolating spirit on thepast, on the present, and on future times ? If you have not, I will mafte the laudable attempt to burst your narrow and intolerant prejudices asunder; and to exhibit those disgraceful and dogmatical doc- trines in all their naked 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 antediluvian races of men, and also of those wiio existed anterior to the gospel dispensation, I will make none but the fol- lowing simple and plain remark; that it would hardly comport with the common principles of justice, to con- RELIGION. 119 sign all those numerous races of men to eternal perdi- tion, for not believing in doctrines which had never been announced to them, and to which they were utter strangers! Since the first announcement of the gospel dispensation 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 ten human beings! There are, as nearly as the facts can be ascertained, about eleven hundred million human beings composing the populations on the globe: now, if you will ascertain 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, and new, and most important view of the sub- ject ; and considering likewise, that the immense and measurably unknown population of both Africa and Asia have never embraced the Christian religion; that the aboriginal inhabitants of both North and South America have ever been in the same uncivilized and unchristian condition; I wish you to inform me, ye bigots—ye fanatics—je fiery and intolerant zealots, in the cause of a God Supreme, and infinitely merciful to feeble and erring man, how many human beings, out of the countless myriads who have sunk into the tomb in the long lapse of two thousand years, belonged to those little sects who doom all mankind to the horrors of deep and irrevocable damnation but themselves! But this is not all: according to the narrow and exclu- sive principles of your religious doctrines, which we will bring nearer to ourselves by an application of them to the present age, how many human beings, out 120 RELIGION. ojijekven hundred millions which are now in existence, according to the purblind and intolerant dogmas of any one of your exclusive professions of faith, will be doomed never to reach the goal of infinite ,mercy, even through the merits of that Saviour who died for the salvation of all mankind ! These are views of the absurdity of some of your doctrines, and of the dreadful consequences they would have in their applications to mankind, too stubborn for the subterfuges 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 spec- tacle which your wild, speculative, and visionary theories of religion, would present to an assembled universe at the end of time! Let us suppose at the great day of accounts between man and 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 termination of time, would take place: here all arithmetical computa- tions fail, and the human imagination itself expires in attempting to grasp at so vast, so unbounded a spec- tacle ! Suppose also, that your paltry and disputatious conflicts here, and your narrow conceptions of Divine justice, always inadequate and contradictory because the offspring of ignorance, were to be made the irrevo- cable standard of adjudication by which countless and innumerable millions of the human race were to be consigned to endless misery, ruin, and despair! Would not so dreadful an exhibition of the consequences of your bigotry and intolerance, destroy your holy zeal and vindictive rage in the cause of religious and into- lerant prejudices? Would not your sensibilities as men weep tears of blood and forgiveness over the RELIGION. l&l miseries 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 torture your intellectual vision with the spectacle of a ruined creation and an almost solitary God! I have now shown, and I think conclusively, that the efforts of human reason, unaided by scriptural divinity, are utterly incompetent to disclosing to man- kind the great truths connected with the immortality of man; that without the moral purifications of true Christianity and genuine religion, such disclosures would have been fraught with dreadful consequences to mankind, instanced in the cases of future certainty as to annihilation, future happiness, and future misery. I think I have done more; I think I have shown, as far as the moral reasoning powers of man can be ap- plied to incontrovertible facts, that very many of the intolerant and sectarian abuses which have crept into the Christian religion, from the bigotry and misdirected zeal of many of its belligerant and inflammatory champions, are utterly inconsistent with Christian charity, truly Divine worship, and the principles of eternal justice : in fine, I think I have shown con- clusively, w^at pure and genuine religion is not ! As connected and incorporated with dangerous and intolerant opinions in religion, the abusive conse- quences which always flow from such opinions, espe- cially when under the influence of the vindictive passions of men, require dispassionate consideration. I have said in another part of this work, when speak- ing of the moral philosophy of the passions, that when restrained within due bounds, and exercised only in L 16 122 RELIGION. relation to their native and 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 excess, and suffered to produce anarchy and wild misrule in the human bosom, are fraught with innumerable miseries and misfortunes to mankind, in every department of life. In sectarian doctrines, which relate to the entertain- ment of opinions connected with the temporal self- interests of mankind, it is to be expected that the passions, in all their excesses, will always have consi- derable influence. The professors of all the sciences which relate to the present state of man are passion- ately influenced tothe conversion of proselytes to their respective systems, because on the number of their converts depend, not only their wealth and fame, but, in numerous instances, the very bread which them- selves and their families require for daily support. The same may be remarked, in relation to the leaders of all political partisans, and to all other zealots in political science. In these cases, and 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 wants. In all these cases, we can account on rational prin- ciples, or more properly speaking on logical ones, for the slander and defamation with which scientific men of all professions usually load each other; and for all the personal enmity, envy, and malignity, with which the low-lived spirit of grovelling ambition usually persecutes a dangerous and aspiring rival! In all RELIGION. 123 cas'*s where wTe can connect the excesses of the pas- sions, and the practice of intolerance and injustice, with the wants and immediate self-interests of men, there seems to be some colourable mitigation for their deviations from virtue, justice, and moderation : but in cases where religion alone is concerned; where all the temporal interests and conflictions of self-love are entirely out of the question; where the religious faith and opinions of men are accounts only to be referred to the lofty and unerring tribunal of God himself; th gratuitous persecutions of men, and their sanguinary zeal in the cause of an Almighty Power, who needs not their assistance, can only be accounted for upon principles of wanton depravity, native cruelty of tem- per, and innate vindictiveness of souli Does the Almighty require the sacrifice of the peace of society, and of all the affections of man for his fellow-beings in the diffusion of an immaculate and benevolent religion, which expressly inculcates "peace on earth. and good will towards men?" If my faith in the rectitude and purity of my own doctrines of salvation be 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 tell me, ye bigots, and per- secutors of mankind for the love of 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 with- out attempting their reformation, all those who may chance to differ from you in religious faith and opinion ? Are not those who dissent from you in re- ligious doctrines and opinions, as rational as your- • 124 RELIGION. selves? Are they less interested in knowing the truths of genuine Christian Divinity, and in practising on the precepts which tbey inculcate, than you your- selves are ? Do you suppose that any human being ever existed, who was endowed with ordinary prin- ciples of rationality, and common sentiments of self- love, who could voluntarily entertain errors of opinion in religion, knowing that the profession of such opinions would eventually consign his immortal soul to deep and irremediable misery ? Why, then, perse- cute men for the entertainment of opinions which are misfortunes, and not crimes ? Why, in other words. do you punish and persecute erring and feeble man for involuntary errors of opinion, which, according to your own creeds, will be punished in a future life ? Where are the credentials from which you derive authority to sit in judgment between man and his Maker : and to assist an omnipotent God, in the execution of those laws which his own infinite wisdom, at the creation, imposed on the universe ? Under 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 mankind, and to treat your fellow-men with more lenity and com- passion ; I must confess myself utterly at a loss which to be most astonished at, your ignorance, presumption, or fanaticism. How, ye bigoted and fanatical zealots; how do you reconcile your inquisitions, your burnings, your persecutions, and your intolerance in opinion, with the mildly compassionate and humane example of the Saviour of the world ; he who exclaimed amidst -he protracted agonies of the cross, and while sweat- ing drops of l^>od to wash out the crimsoned iniquities RELIGION. 125 of mankind; " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!" You are mistaken in attributing to pure and holy zeal in the cause of religion, your perse-, cutions of those who differ from you in sectarian faith and doctrines: your worldly-minded pride of making proselytes,—your ambition to become conspicuous among men, as the defenders of the true faith,—your secret aspirations after exaltations to high clerical offices—your love of worldly distinctions and temporal power; and not unfrequently, your cupidity and ava- rice, respecting good round salaries for the discharge of your official functions; these are the energetic and inflammatory motives, which urge you to your vindic- tive persecutions of mankind for opinion's sake; these are the real causes of your wTant 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 endeavour 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 you existence. I place you in the midst of a universe which bespeaks my wisdom and glory, and I surround you with blessings and enjoyments, winch ought to. excite in your bosom pure and elevated sentiments of love, admiration, and gratitude, to that inscrutable Be- ing who made you for the enjoyment of happiness, and placed the objects of those enjoyments within your reach. 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 these exalted and divine emotions, that you may render l2 126. RELIGION. yourself happy both here and hereafter. The fidelity of your obedience to my laws, will be the test of your own happiness; and when you cease to • love me and ki( p 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 God of love and mercy, are the mild and benevolent sentiments entertained by him for his erring and dependent creature, man—for he expressly announces in his holy word, " that he delights not in the death of'a sinner." These are some of the conso- lations of true religion, which when fully merited by man, by a strict obedience to the words of Scripture, and a full and entire faith*in the merits of a blessed Re- deemer, nothing earthly can destroy.. I do not intend to enter into a critical dissertation on the subject of religion, further than its divine spirit is connected with the moral condition of man, and his physical health and enjoyments. We know perfectly well, from our own consciousness, that the mere pleasures and enjoy- ments of this world are insufficient to satisfy the moral desires of the human mind, when deeply impressed with an unerring sentiment of immortality. Give a man wealth and luxury unbounded; load him with titles and worldly honours; even clothe him with what Doctor Young calls " a mortal immortality"—and like Caesar, when crowned emperor and invested with the imperial purple, he will exclaim—-and is this all!" With respect to the enjoyments of this world, I mean those which are not connected with the future state of existence, and sentiments of pure and undefiled reli- gion, it is a truth that has been recognised by the experience of all ages, that their satiation always pro- 1 duces indifference, and not unfrequently disgust. This RELIGION. 127 circumstance alone ought to convince us, that the de- sires of man and his capacities for enjoyment are not limited to this earthly sphere; and that there must be a future and more exalted 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 probably also from the strong impression of the insufficiency of the enjoyments of this life, that the great Dr. Young exclaimed, in his Night Thoughts, " man must be immortal, or Heaven unjust!" Do we not know perfectly well, that when the physical calls of nature are satisfied, lassitude and indifference succeed? Do we not also knowT, that when all the pleasures and enjoyments of this world are showered on us in profusion, there still exist in the human bosom, hopes and desires connected with sentiments of immortality, and objects of a more ele- vated and intellectual order of enjoyment than this world can afford. The fact is, that the desires, the capacities, and the hopes of man as to futurity, when compared with the utter insufficiency of the objects of enjoyment actually under his control in this life, go very far to demonstrate satisfactorily the immortality of man. Do the affections of the brute for its offspring, like those of man for his relations and friends, survive the flight of time, and contemplate a reunion of those affections in another state of existence ? The differ- ence between the influence of reason and that of true religion, in relation to the future happiness and enjoy- ments of man, may be satisfactorily explained in a few words. Reason teaches man merely to hope for im- 128 , RELIGION. mortal existence and happiness, whilst pure religion, supported by faith in the Redeemer, and by the faith- ful practice of his precepts, assures him of both future existence and future happiness. There is this further difference between reason and religion, and I think it a very palpable and plain one ; reason cannot influence man's feeble hopes of immortality and future happiness, with sufficient motives for the practice of piety and virtue, whilst religion urges him imperiously to the performance of his duties to his God, to him- self, and to his fellow-beings, by the certainty of future rewards and punishments. These are the reasons why pure and genuine Christians, I do not mean bigots, hypocrites, or intolerant fanatics, are better citizens, better husbands, and better parents, than most other men ; and these are the reasons, also, wrhy they are the happier class of mankind. Reason may teach the existence of a great First Cause, but it is utterly incom- petent to disclosing his moral attributes of justice, love, and mercy, or to defining for man his particular and indispensable duties in every department of life. The precepts of religion are plain and easy of comprehen- sion; they can be understood and practised by all ranks and grades of men. Reason, on the other hand. in attempting an explanation of the attributes of God, or the duties of man to that God or his fellow-crea- tures, is eternally operating on imaginary and unknown principles, and making hair-breadth distinctions, which have no existence but in the sound of wrords without meaning: the errors of reason are founded in the ig- norance of man, wiio knows nothing in reality of the essential or elementary principles of any one thin-'* in heaven or on earth. The Scripture says, and any man can understand the denunciation, " Whosoever shed- RELIGION. 129 deth 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, punishable with death. But I will put another, and more general and comprisive 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 thousand years of reason- ing been sufficient to reduce law to unerring principles of justice; and why, at this late and refined period of reason, do we so seldom find two persons "of counsel 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 than ingenious and plausible conjecture. If the mere exercise of reason be entirely sufficient to disclose to man his duties, to impel him to the per- formance of those duties, and to satisfy him respecting the all-important doctrines of futurity, why have the advocates of mere reason so many doubts and difficul- ties on all subjects ? The enigma is easily solved; the igmrrance of man respecting first principles, the doubts he always entertains of the infallibility of reasoning as a science, and the consciousness of being eternally liable to error in his rational deductions, involve him in labyrinths of confusion and dismay, from which no merely human powers of intellect or genius can pos- sibly extricate him. While in the rise or day spring of life; while enjoying uninterrupted health and pros- perity ; and while indulging in anticipations of a pro- tracted and fortunate term of existence here, the lordly 17 130 RELIGION. and proud advocate of the all-sufficiency of reason may indulge in theoretical speculations which he imagines he firmly believes in. But, let him become unfortu- nate in his adventures after earthly enjoyments, and infirm in his health : let his prospects of exemption from disease and misfortune darken around him ; and in this situation let him approach the unknown and mysterious confines of eternity. Where then will be his visionary and theoretical speculations respecting futurity ? where the fortitude which ought to support him in his descent to the cold and silent mansions of the dead ? and where the celestial fire of hope and Christian consolation that alone can light him to eternal happiness, relieve his gloomy apprehensions of annihi- lation and shed even a splendour around the horrors of the grave ? Pure and vital religion, not that based on merely bigoted and -sectarian prejudices, or on frivolous and childish distinctions respecting rites and ceremonies, is infinitely superior to reason, in securing to man all the moral enjoyments of this life, and in assuring him of those blessings which reason only hopes for in futurity. By pure and vital religion, I do not mean hypocrisy, which is the religion of knaves; fanaticism, which is the religion 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 Deity, which leads us to faith in the great Redeemer of fallen and degraded man, and to the practice of benevolence, virtue, toleration, and charity 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, as it RELIGION. 131 were, to a communion with his Maker. It cultivates all the finer affections of man for his fellow-beings; makes him a provident and tender parent; a chaste and faithful husband; a kind and benevolent master, and a useful, virtuous, and patriotic citizen: it makes him faithful in his friendships, virtuous in his loves, honest in his dealings, candid in his communications with mankind, moderate in his desires, unostentatious in his charities, and tolerant in his opinions. Fanatics, bigots, zealots, hypocrites; ye who practise fraud, vio- lence, 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 im- maculate Saviour of mankind, compare yourselves with this portrait of a real Christian! There is a class of religionists in every Christian country,, who are im- pressed with the absurd opinion, that the profession of faith in particular sectarian creeds, and the practice of a few frivolous rites and ceremonies, are quite sufficient to entitle them to salvation. The probability is, that these people are deceiving themselves, or making the profession of religion a mere mask for iniquitous de- signs against the community; for, let their vicious pas- sions or propensities be excited, and themselves thrown off their guard, and you immediately discover the true state of the case: in fact, you soon discover them to be sensualists, swindlers, and hypocrites. These peo- ple ought always to bear in mind, that those alone are genuine Christians, who know the will of God, and practise its divine precepts: nor ought they ever to lose sight of the important and eternal truth, that it is im- possible to deceive the Almighty. Compared with these hypocritical and unworthy professors, whose prayers are always on the "house tops," and whose 132 RELIGION. devotions are loud and emphatical, that they may be heard, the true Christian exhibits an essentially differ- ent and greatly more elevated character. He is modest, retiring and unobti'usive in his devotions; it is not the mere profession of piety and religion that stimulates him in the performance of his duties; it is the heaven- born consciousness that his devotional exercises are acceptable 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, disease, infirmities, and misfortunes in this life are nothing; he is above their influence: they can neither ruffle his passions, nor disturb the deep and settled serenity of his soul. The death-bed of such a man is not the death-bed of the sinner: even the pre- sence of the king of terrors cannot appal the resolu- tions, or shake the fortitude of the man whose reliance is on the love and mercy of his God. As a physician, I some time since, in Virginia, attended at the couch of a devout Christian, and a sincere believer in Christ; and was impressed with sentiments which can never be obliterated 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 summons to ■" that bourn from whence no traveller returns." In- stead of seeing terror and dismay depictured in his countenance, which I had often witnessed in the cases of those who were not Christians, all was cheerful se- renity, and mild resignation: no ghastly expression of feattire bespoke the terror of death, no indications of mental distress told of remorse for ill-spent life; nor did a single shade of gloomy anticipation pass over the RELIGION. 133 •eye that was so soon to close in death! The last words of the innocent sufferer were, and they