Et tacet extincto laurus adusta foco.

Yet so far from possessing exhilarating qualities, laurel-leaves were supposed to diminish the excitement produced by wine; and Martial affirms that the Roman ladies made use of them to drink large potations with impunity:

Foetere multo Myrtale solet vino; Sed fallat ut nos, folia devorat lauri, Merumque, cauta fronde, non aqua miscet.

May it not be inferred that the leaves given to the Pythia might have been those of the _Lauro-cerasus_, the effects of which are similar to those of prussic acid, producing vertigo, dizziness, and various convulsive symptoms? This tree was first observed by Belon, who discovered it in his eastern voyages in 1546; but it might have been well known to the ancients. We may thus account for the violent convulsions in which the priestesses of Apollo were thrown on these mystic occasions, and which were said to arise from the gas over which they were seated. Although the tree from which the leaves were gathered grew near the temple, and was the common _Lauros n.o.bilis_, yet the leaves of the _Lauro-cerasus_ might have easily been subst.i.tuted on the occasion; since, always green and shining, they are not very unlike each other, and the flowers of both trees are pedunculate; and, no doubt, the priests well knew to what extent they could carry the dose to serve their purposes; possibly the modern preparation of _noyau_ might have been a Pythian dram.

The effects of enthusiasm in rendering its victims insensible to all external agents is truly surprising, and cannot be better ill.u.s.trated than by a relation of the horrors which the famous Convulsionists of Paris and other parts of France underwent, not only voluntarily, but at their most earnest prayer and solicitation.

This work of miracles, as it was called, was first performed by a priest of the name of Paris, in 1724, and strange to say, the aberration continued for upwards of twelve years. Paris having departed this life in the odour of sanct.i.ty, (at least according to the conviction of the Jansenists, who had opposed with no little violence the famous bull _Unigenitus_), the Appellants, for such they thought proper to denominate their sect, appealed to the remains of their beatified companion to operate miracles in support of their common cause. The Appellants were absurdly persecuted, therefore miracles became manifestations easy to obtain. Having succeeded in finding credulous dupes, the next step was to work their credulity into a useful state of enthusiasm. They therefore summoned all the sick, lame, and halt of their sectarians to repair to the tomb of St. Paris for radical relief. Crowds were soon collected round his blessed sepulchre. It is now generally supposed that animal magnetism was resorted to in these curative operations, or rather religious ceremonies.

Had not the means thus employed for the purpose been recorded and authenticated by the most irrefragable authorities, the sceptic might long pause before he would yield them credence.

The patient (a female) was stretched on the ground, and the stoutest men that could be found were directed to trample with all their might and main upon her body; kicking the chest and stomach, and attempting to tread down the ribs with their heels. So violent were these exertions, that it is related a hunchbacked girl was thus kicked and trampled into a goodly shape.

The next exercise was what they called the plank, and consisted in laying a deal board upon the patient while extended on the back, and then getting as many athletic men as could stand upon it, to press the body down; and in this endeavour they seldom showed sufficient energy to satisfy the supposed sufferer, who was constantly calling for more pressure.

Next came the experiment of the pebble, a diminutive name they were pleased to give to a paving-stone weighing two-and-twenty pounds, which was discharged by the operator upon the patient's stomach and bosom, from as great a height as he could well raise the weighty body. This terrific blow was frequently inflicted upwards of a hundred times, and with such violence, that the house, and the furniture of the room, vibrated under the concussion, while the astonished bystanders were terrified by the hollow sound re-echoed by the enthusiast at every blow.

Carre de Montgeron affirms that the _pebble_ was not found sufficiently powerful, and the operator was obliged in one case to procure an iron fire-dog (_chenet_), weighing about thirty pounds, which was discharged as violently as possible on the pit of the patient's stomach at least a hundred times. This instrument having for the sake of curiosity been hurled against a wall, brought part of it down at the twenty-fifth blow.

The operator further states, that he had commenced according to the usual practice, by inflicting moderate blows, until he was induced by her lamentable entreaties to redouble his vigour, but all to no purpose; his strength was unavailing and he was obliged to employ a more athletic surgeon, who fell to work with such energy that he shook the whole house.

The convulsionist, who was of the gentle s.e.x, would not allow sixty blows she had received from her first doctor to be included in the calculation of the dose, but insisted upon having her whole hundred as prescribed. It further appears, that at each stroke the delighted enthusiast would exclaim in ecstacy, "Oh, how nice!" "Oh, what good it does me!" "Oh, dear brother, hit away--again--again!" For be it known, these operators were called by the affectionate name of brothers, whose claims to fraternal affection were in the ratio of the weight of their kindness towards the sisterhood.

One of these young ladies, who was not easily satisfied, wanted to try her own skill, and jumped with impunity into the fire, an exploit which obtained her the glorious epithet of Sister Salamander. The names that these amiable devotees gave to each other were somewhat curious. They all strove to imitate the whining and wheedling of spoiled children, or petted infants; one was called _L'Imbecile_, another _L'Aboyeuse_, a third _La Nisette_, and they used to beg and cry for barley-sugar and cakes; barley-sugar signified a stick big enough to fell an ox, and cakes meant paving-stones. The excesses of these maniacs were at last carried to so fearful an extent, and their religious ceremonies were so debased by obscenities that the police was obliged to interfere, and forbid these detestable practices; hence it was affirmed that the following somewhat impious notice was suspended over the church-door:

De par le Roi, defense a Dieu, De faire miracle en ce lieu.

These lunatics, for such they must be considered, were not impostors. They had been worked to this degraded state by the plastic power of superst.i.tion, and implicit reliance was placed in their a.s.sertions; for, as Pascal said, "we must believe people who are ready to have their throats cut." Whether the Jansenist priests belonged to the same cla.s.s, I leave to the reader to decide.

Cabanis, in his interesting work, "Rapports du Physique et du Moral de l'Homme," offers the following remarks on this most curious subject: "Sensibility may be considered in the light of a fluid the quality of which is determined, and which, when carried to certain channels in greater proportion than to others, must of course be diminished in the latter ones. This is evident in all violent affections, but more especially in those ecstasies where the brain and other sympathetic organs are possessed of the highest degree of energetic action, while the faculty of feeling and of motion--in short, the vital powers--seem to have fled from the other parts of the system. In this violent state, fanatics have received with impunity severe wounds, which, if inflicted in a healthy condition, would have proved fatal or most dangerous; for the danger that results from the violent action of external agents on our organs depends on their sensibility, and we daily see poisons, which would be deleterious to a healthy man, innocuous in a state of illness. It was by availing themselves of this physical disposition that impostors of every description, and of every country operated most of their miracles; and it was by these means that the Convulsionists of St. Medard amazed weak imaginations with the blows they received from swords and hatchets, and which in their ascetic language they called _consolations_. This was the magic wand with which Mesmer overcame habitual sufferings, by giving a fresh direction to the attention, and establishing in const.i.tutions possessed of great mobility a sense of action to which they had been unaccustomed. It was thus also that the _Illuminati_ of France and Germany succeeded in destroying external sensations amongst their adepts, depriving them in fact of their relative existence."

In these phenomena we do not witness miracles or supernatural agency.

Enthusiasts are simply maniacs. Like maniacs, their vital endowments are deranged; they lose the faculty of feeling, of reasoning, of comparing, of a.s.sociating their ideas; their volition, their memory have fled, and all the functions of organic life are more or less disturbed. Rousseau never proved more clearly that his own intellectual faculties were occasionally impaired, than when he stated "that the state of reflection is unnatural, and that the man who meditates is a depraved animal."

Insanity may be divided into four species:

1st, _Monomania_, and _melancholy_, in which the delirium is confined to one or few objects.

2nd, _Mania_, where the delirium embraces a variety of impressions, and is accompanied with violence.

3rd, _Dementia_, or insanity in the full acceptation of the word, where the senses are totally bewildered, and the faculty of thinking destroyed.

4th, _Imbecility_ or _idiotcy_, where, from imperfect organisation, ratiocination cannot be correct.

To the first of these categories enthusiasts generally belong. Delirium, or wandering, is to a certain extent applicable to all, being a want of correspondence between judgment and perception. Locke and Condillac characterize madness as a _false judgment_, or a disposition to a.s.sociate ideas incorrectly, and to mistake them for truths. Hence it is observed by Locke that "Madmen err, as men do that argue right from wrong principles."

Dr. Beattie refers madness to _false perception_; and Dr. Mason Good, justly remarks, that "the perceptions in madness seem, for anything we know to the contrary, to be frequently as correct as in health, the judgment or reasoning being alone diseased or defective."

I hope that I may not be accused of _materialism_ when I venture to affirm that all these enthusiasts labour under a physical disease; but whether this state was originally brought on by a morbid condition of the intellectual or the empa.s.sioned faculties of the mind, or, in other words, whether a diseased state of the mind brought on a diseased state of the body, I shall not at present venture to decide, as the disquisition would be foreign to the nature of this work, and lead us into investigations of little interest to the generality of readers.

In the German Psychological Magazine we meet with a curious case of a patient who believed that he was supernaturally endowed with the power of working miracles. The man was a gend'arme of the name of Gragert, of a harmless and quiet disposition, but rather of a superst.i.tious turn of mind. From poverty, family misfortunes, and severe military discipline, a series of sleepless nights and a mental disquietude were brought on that, according to his own report, nothing could dissipate but a perusal of pious works. In reading the Bible he was struck with the book of Daniel, and was so much pleased with it, that it became his favourite study; from that moment the idea of miracles so strongly possessed his imagination, that he began to believe that he could perform some himself. He was persuaded more especially that if he were to plant an apple-tree with the view of its becoming a cherry-tree, such was his power that it would bear cherries. He was wont to answer every question correctly, except when the subject concerned miracles, in regard to which he ever entertained his old notions; adding, however, that he would relinquish this thought if he could be convinced that the event of his trials did not correspond with his expectations.

That many enthusiasts, although incurable in their peculiar aberration, have possessed some amiable qualities, is undeniable. Such rare occurrences remind one of the curious case of madness recorded by Tidemann of a lunatic of the name of Moses, who was insane on one side, and who observed his insanity with the other; his better half constantly rebuking his worse half for its absurdities. This case was certainly typical of the married state.

In vain have physicians endeavoured to break through this morbid catenation of incongruous ideas by diversions, or what the French call _distractions_, which in general answered to our literal translation of the word, and _distracted_ their patients. Dramatic performances were once allowed in a mad-house near Paris; but the violence of the maniacs, the moroseness of the melancholy, and the stupidity of the idiots, rendered the exertions of the actors perilous to some, and idle to all. Mr.

D'Esquirol once took one of his patients to a play, and the man swore that every performer who came on was making love to his wife; and a young lady, placed in a similar situation, exclaimed that all the people were going to fight about her. Jealousy and vanity were, no doubt, the ruling pa.s.sions in both these cases. Travel has been recommended both by the ancients and the moderns. Seneca on this subject quotes Socrates, who replied to a melancholy wight who complained that his journeys had afforded him no amus.e.m.e.nt, "_I am not surprised at it, since you were travelling in your own company_."

The contagion of enthusiasm is a marvellous fact. Pausanias relates that the malady of the daughters of Proetus, who ran about the country fancying that they were transformed into cows, was common amongst the women of Argos. Plutarch states that a disease reigned in Miletium, in which most of the young girls hung themselves; recent observations have confirmed this singular circ.u.mstance. Dr. Deslages, of St. Maurice, relates that a woman having hanged herself in a neighbouring village, most of her companions felt an invincible desire to follow her example.

Primrose and Bonet tell us that at one period it was found difficult to prevent the young girls in Lyons from casting themselves into the river.

Simon Goulard has recorded the prevalent madness amongst the nuns of the States of Saxony and Brandenburg, and which soon extended its influence to Holland, during which these religious ladies "predicted, capered, climbed up walls, spoke various languages, bleated like sheep, and amused themselves by biting each other." History has recorded the horrible judicial murder of Urbain Grandier, at Laudun, who was sacrificed for bedevilling a nunnery. The recent gift of tongues amongst the _Irvingites_ is still in full vigour, and the _Southcotians_ are still on the look-out in London, as the _Sebastianists_ are in Lisbon.

Addison has remarked that an enthusiast in religion is like an obstinate clown, and a superst.i.tious man like an insipid courtier. On this subject he quotes the following old heathen saying recorded by Aulus Gellius--_Religentem esse oportet, religiosum nefas_; for, as the author tells us, Nigidius observed upon this pa.s.sage, that the Latin words which terminate in _osus_ generally imply vicious characters, or the having any quality to excess. That we should enthusiastically admire all that is holy, sublime, or endowed with uncommon superiority in religion, in poetry, in the fine arts, is not only justifiable but praiseworthy. Genius cannot exist without a certain degree of fervour; its inspiration is a gift divine, naturally a.s.sociated with a religious feeling. The man thus inspired must bend in humble admiration before the wondrous harmony that surrounds him. The poet, the painter, the musician, can only seek excellence by studying primitive perfection. Nothing that is not natural can be truly sublime or beautiful. A rigid observation of nature can alone lead to superiority, and we can only be taught to create by, endeavouring to imitate the beauties of the creation. How distant are these generous feelings from the low grovelling prejudices of bigotry! We admire perfection even in our enemies; and Erasmus was not a truant to his faith when, transported with Socrates's dying speech, he exclaimed, "O Socrates!

I can scarce forbear kneeling down to thee, and praying,

_Sancte Socrates, ora pro n.o.bis_."

While considering this interesting subject, a curious question arises: is enthusiasm more frequently excited by truth than by error? I sadly fear that the latter influence will in general be found to predominate, although falsehood then a.s.sumes the deceptive garb of veracity. The n.o.ble writer whom I have already cited,[19] has justly said, "that truth is the most powerful thing in the world, since even fiction itself must be governed by it, and can only please by its resemblance."

To what then are we to attribute this power that fallacy possesses of inspiring the mind with visionary hopes and fears? Simply because we cease to reason upon matter of fact, and soar in fanciful regions in search of a flittering phantom, a creature of our own imaginative faculties. What falls every day under our personal observation ceases to amaze, and one might even become familiarized to miracles were they of frequent occurrence. Man is naturally disposed to admire what he cannot understand, and to venerate what is incomprehensible. The nature of the divinity being essentially incomprehensible, a religious character is attached to all other subjects that are equally beyond the limits of our understanding.

Sir Thomas Brown has said, "Methinks there be not impossibilities enough in religion for an active faith. I love to lose myself in a mystery, to pursue my reason to an _O alt.i.tudo_! I can answer all the objections of Satan and my rebellious reason, with that odd resolution I learned from Tertullian, _Certum est quia impossibile est_." From our earliest infancy we are delighted with fictions, which we verily fancy to be relations of true facts, and whether we believe with the ancients in the metamorphoses of heathen mythology, the absurd papal stories of the miracles of their saints, or the wondrous incidents of a fairy tale, we listen to these rhapsodies with avidity; whether Jupiter is turned into a shower of gold, St. Denis and St. Livarius travel with their heads under their arm, or Tom Thumb pulls on his seven-league boots. These absurdities are our day thoughts, our night dreams--nay, busy fancy does so dwell on these enchanting phantasies, that, in some cases, the intellectual faculties become deranged, and I have at present under my care, a female who lost her reason by constantly reading the Arabian Nights, and who in her hallucinations, describes as many marvellous voyages as could have done the sailor Sinbad.

The foundation of incredulity no doubt is ignorance, but too often we find men of refined education and feeling the most easily imposed upon by incredible a.s.sertions; we seldom experience as much enthusiasm in the possession of any object as in the pursuit, more especially if that pursuit be vain. The merchant who has realized a splendid fortune in his commercial ventures, is satiated with his business, and becomes careless in the pursuit of greater riches, but let him for one moment contemplate the possibility of discovering the philosopher's stone, he will lose, and cheerfully too, all his past earnings in the chimerical pursuit, and the man who would doze over his ledger, will spend his sleepless nights contemplating his crucibles, and studying the black art.

What is there of an exciting nature in the common events of life and the usual course and uniformity of nature? Very little. However wondrous the works of the creation may be, habit has so accustomed us to behold them, that they are familiar to our eyes; they become matter of fact, and science has taught us to comprehend the nature of many phenomena, which might otherwise have appeared incredible: but when we seek for an unattainable object, however fallacious its attraction may be, the mind is roused to energetic action: if we strive to excel all others in the fine arts, in poetical productions, we become fired with an exalted zeal, which age and experience alone can temper. In our vain pursuit of ideal perfection, the mind may be compared to a focus in which our burning thoughts are concentrated, until we are consumed by disappointment: the love of Pygmalion was probably the most ardent pa.s.sion that could fire the breast of man. Enthusiasm laughs to scorn the suggestion of the senses and common understanding, therefore all its priests and votaries are surrounded with a deceptive halo; and Plotinus maintained that a proper worship of the G.o.ds consisted in a mysterious self annihilation and a total extinction of every faculty. The same may be said of love, which, like all other enthusiastic pa.s.sions, may be considered a temporary hallucination.

Moreover the language of fiction is not required to maintain the self-evident testimonies of facts.

As true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth.

Whereas false doctrines and fallacious opinions need all the aid of imagination's vivid colours to disguise their real form with a goodly outside. We may in general conclude that enthusiasts are at first deceived themselves to become in turn deceivers. Seldom does man display sufficient humility to admit that he has erred in his favourite doctrines, and how much less will he be disposed to confess his deviation from rect.i.tude, when imposture becomes the source of wealth and power, and hypocrisy a trade: to the ghostly speculator we may well apply the lines of Ma.s.singer:

Oh, now your hearts make ladders of your eyes, In show to climb to heaven, where your devotion Walks upon crutches.

It is, however, fortunate that errors generally a.s.sist the development of truth. The progress of the Christian faith was materially forwarded by the absurdities and fallacies of all other religions; and Helvetius has truly observed that if we could for a moment doubt the truth of Christianity, its divine origin would be proved by its having survived the horrors of popery. False theories led Columbus to correct geographic conclusions, and Galileo's discoveries overthrew his own former theories.

MEDICINAL EFFECTS OF WATER.

Amongst the various means resorted to by quackery to speculate upon the credulity of mankind, simple river or spring water, coloured and flavoured with inert substances, has not been the least productive; and many a time the Thames and Seine have been fertile sources of supposed invaluable medicines. Sangrado's doctrines on aqueous potations have long prevailed in the profession; and it has been stoutly maintained that a water diet can cure the gout and various other diseases. That relief, if not cures, have been obtained by this practice, there cannot be the least doubt. Are we to attribute these favourable results to the effects of the imagination, the beneficial efforts of nature, or the salutary abstinence which this prescription imposed? Possibly they all combined to a.s.sist the physician's efforts, or rather aid his effete treatment. Cold water and warm water have in turn been praised to the very skies by their eulogists, and become the subject of ridicule and persecution on the part of more spirited pract.i.tioners.

In surgery, water has ever been considered of great utility; it, no doubt, was instinctively used by man to cleanse and heal his wounds. Patroclus, having extracted the dart from his friend Eurypylus, washes the wound; and the prophet Elisha prescribes to Naaman the waters of Jordan. Rivers had various qualities, and were supposed to prove as different in their action on the economy as the mineral springs which from time immemorial, have been resorted to. These effects may in fact not be altogether doubtful; for, although these salutary streams may not possess sufficient active ingredients to be recognised by chemical tests, yet we know that substances which appear perfectly inert may prove highly active and effectual when combined and diluted naturally or artificially. Moreover, in the effects of watering-places on the invalid or valetudinarian, we must not forget the powerful influence of change of air and habit, the invigorating stimulus of hope, and the diversion from former occupations.

To these auxiliaries many a remedy has owed its high reputation; and probably when Wesley attributed his recovery to brimstone and supplication, he in a great measure might have considered rest from incessant labour the chief agent in his relief. The exhilarating effects of the picturesque site of many of these salutary places of resort is universally acknowledged. Montaigne, Voltaire, Alfieri, acknowledged their influence on the imagination. Petrarch's inspirations flowed with the waters of Vaucluse, some of Sevigne's most delightful letters were written at Vichy, and Genlis and Stael were particularly happy in their epistolary elegance at Spa and Baden.

We owe to accident many valuable discoveries in medicine. It is said that several Indians, having used the waters of a lake in which a cinchona tree was growing, experienced the benefit which led to the use of the Peruvian bark; and the thermal properties of the baths of Carlsbad were first made known by the howling of one of Charles the Fourth's hounds, that had fallen in them in a hunt. It has been also observed, in various countries, that particular waters produced various morbid affections; and to this cause have been attributed goitres, cretinism, calculi, and other distressing diseases. The ancients dreaded the impurity of their rivers.

The Romans boiled their water in extensive _thermopolia_, where not only potations were drunk hot, but occasionally refrigerated with ice and snow, and, when thus prepared, called _decocta_. Juvenal and Martial refer this custom to the Greeks. Herodotus informs us that the Persian monarchs were accompanied on their expeditions by chariots laden with silver vases filled with the water of the _Choaspes_ that had been boiled, and which was solely destined for the king's use: Athenaeus tells us that it was light and sweet. Many ancient coins and inscriptions have recorded these salutary properties of certain waters.

This real or supposed efficacy was scarcely discovered before it became the domain of priests: and common rain or river water became valuable and sanctified when blessed by them: hence the introduction of l.u.s.tral water.