Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

thing above the common run of our nature, soon
becomes apparent. A person of well-balanced mind,
therefore, prefers partaking of the common ways of
the world, where innocent, to indulging in such fancies,
because he sees that, even though the former may
involve a little frivolity, it is more amiable as well as
more rational to submit to that, than to set up for
something so like a standing reproach of all mankind,
and that in things upon the whole indifferent.
Still more strange to say, there is an inside and out-
side kind of conscience. It is a thing, as one might
say, in two layers. The outside conscience is the one
for common use, when men have not only to consider
something like the promptings of justice, but also
some circumstances affecting their own interests or
those of parties with which they are connected, or
when they act under the influence of strong preju-
dices. The inside conscience is one rarely called into
action, and only when either there are no lateral cir-
cumstances to be considered, or all bewraying views
have been by some singular chance pushed aside. We
often wonder at the strangely bad courses taken by
political parties, all the men as individuals being known
to us as "honourable, most honourable men." We
wonder at the unrighteous doings of high men of state
in regard to public matters, when we know that they
would not willingly do injury to any single person
under them. We wonder at the licence which men
will take as members of a corporation, who in their
private capacity would do justice to the last farthing.
The mystery is explained by our theory of an outer
and an inner conscience. They think themselves as
conscientious in the one case as the other; but only
in the one case they are acting with the coat con-
science on their backs, and in the other with the waist-
coat. How much better it would be for the commu-
nity if public men in all instances worked in their
vests, we need not pause to consider.

We must now conclude our speculations; and, as a climax is needed in all such things, we think we cannot do better than recommend to our readers to be generally on their guard against the Outside,* which they will almost invariably find to be illusive and betraying, and to look only to that within, "which passeth show."

THE INFLUENCE OF ARTIFICIAL LIGHT
ON VISION.+

WE have recently been favoured with a short trea-
tise, by Dr James Hunter, surgeon to the Eye Dis-
pensary of Edinburgh, on the subject indicated above,
one of very considerable interest to mankind. It is
impossible for people living in a state of civilised so-
ciety to avoid the extensive use of artificial light, by
which is to be understood every species of light ex-
cepting that derived from the sun and the heavenly
bodies; and hence the importance of inquiring how far
and in what manner such light is injurious, and to
what extent the effects resulting from it may be pre-
vented or remedied. We do not propose here to review
the whole question, but only, by a few extracts, to
call attention to Dr Hunter's treatise, where the sub-
ject is handled in a very able and satisfactory manner.
The following simple experiment is proposed by Dr
Hunter, as a mode by which any one may convince
himself of the comparatively hurtful nature of arti-
ficial light: Tie up the left eye, and with the other
look steadily and closely, for about a minute, at some
very small object placed on a sheet of white paper, and
strongly illuminated with ordinary day-light, but not
exposed to the direct rays of the sun: then uncover

Of the propriety of looking below the surface to find the real characters of men as distinguished from their pretensions, we have not for a long time met a more engaging illustration than the following, which we find in a recent newspaper :

"WHO IS THE POOR MAN'S FRIEND?-It is easy to assume the title of A Friend to the Poor.' I know a man who possessed slaves, who violently opposed the abolition of slavery, and who defends the slave-trade itself, but who, for motives best known to himself, has taken upon himself the title of Poor Man's Friend-has become the champion of paupers, the enemy of the new poor-law, and the persecutor of the guardians of the union in which he resides. I know a man who delights in war and bloodshed-who, even in time of peace, can neither think, speak, nor write, but to fight his battles over again-he would not shed a tear for the groans and pangs of 20,000 men dying on the battle-field, or of their widows and orphans left behind; on the contrary, he would be glad, for the sake of employment, and the increase of his income, if war again broke out, although it might not cease till millions of poor men had fallen victims to the senseless quarrel; yet, strange to say, he also has added to his military title that of Poor Man's Friend!" I know a man, for whom no labourer will work, who himself informed me that he was under the necessity of mowing his own lawn, and digging his own gar

den, because,' said he, when I apply to those rascally lafor me, yet in the morning they are sure to disappoint me. This was a curious phenomenon, and I inquired into its cause, and

bourers, although in the evening they promise to come to work

found that he was a hard master, celebrated for grinding the poor, always bating down their wages, and stipulating for a less sum than that for which they could afford to work, and for this he was

odious in their sight. Happily, however, for him, the new poorlaw passed, and caused excitement in the place, and he came forth as the Poor Man's Friend!' I know a man who paid our distant poor, and who for five years professed to pay 3s. 6d. a-week to a

widow at Bristol, but who had kept back 2s. a-week all that time, thus robbing the parish and the poor of L.25, as was proved by the magistrates, and confessed by himself. When the select vestry were examining into the cases of all the poor upon the list, this man exclaimed loudly against the cruelty of diminishing the pay of poor widows at a distance, or of causing them to come and give accidentally come, it appeared that she was a young and hearty

an account of themselves. When, however, this poor widow did

woman, who had been married again the preceding four years to a respectable mason of Bristol."-The Rev. T. Spencer of Bath. Laing and Forbes, Edinburgh. 1840.

the left eye, and look at some distant white surface,
such as the ceiling of the room, first with the left eye,
and then with the right one. It will be found that
there is not much difference in its appearance as seen
by the one eye or by the other, though in general it
will be a very little brighter to the left eye. After
this darken the room, by closing the shutters; tie up
the left eye again, and then with the right one look
at the same object, placed on a sheet of white paper
as formerly, but illuminated by a large tallow candle
or oil-lamp, so that it shall be seen as distinctly as it
was in day-light. Keep the right eye fixed on this
object for about a minute, so as to examine it closely
and narrowly then extinguish the candle or lamp,
open the shutters, and uncover the left eye. When
both eyes are now turned to the ceiling, it will appear
somewhat dim and indistinct; and on looking at it
first with the one eye, and then with the other, the
difference will be very remarkable. To the left eye,
which had not been exposed to the action of the arti-
ficial light, it will appear unchanged; but to the right
eye it will be very dim, and of a dark blue or purple
colour. This shows that, by exposure to candle-light,
the retina of the right eye has been rendered partially
insensible to the action of day-light." From long-
continued exposure to artificial light in this way, the
diminished sensibility of the retina to light becomes a
permanent affection, and entire blindness may follow.
Dr Hunter then enters minutely into the morbid
consequences upon the eye, or in other words the
diseases, produced by artificial light. The most re-
markable of these is the state in which floating films,
or muscæ rolitantes, are seen on the organ of vision,
an affection which sometimes becomes very serious in
its consequences.

"When one of these films is first observed, it is
often very difficult for the patient to be convinced
that it is not merely some light substance floating in
the air, and he generally makes an attempt to drive it
away with his hand; in doing so, he rolls the eyeball,
and as the film immediately disappears, he is confirmed
in his belief that what he saw was nothing more than
perhaps a bit of cobweb or a particle of soot. After
some time he begins to doubt the correctness of this
supposition, by the frequent recurrence of the symp-
tom, and by finding that the cobweb is seen by no one
but himself. At last he is quite convinced that the
film is really caused by some defect in the eye itself,
by observing its motions; for so long as the eye is
kept stationary, the film remains stationary also, but
the moment the eye is moved, it flies off in an opposite
direction. When the eyeball is slowly rolled upwards
to the light, the film gradually sinks downwards, and
if, just as it appears to be going out of sight, the eye
be suddenly directed downwards, that instant the film
flies away upwards, and is seen no more at that time.
At first these musca colitantes are perceived only at
intervals, often of some days, and generally are most
common the day after the eyes have more than usually
been excited in working by artificial light. Their
duration is very transitory, and they seldom continue
visible for more than a few seconds at a time. They
are not often seen when looking at a coloured object,
particularly if its colour be of a red or orange hue;
but they are much more frequently observed when
the eyes are turned to a white surface, such as a sheet
of paper, the ceiling of a room, or a light cloud in the
sky; and a misty day in summer, when the sun's
light is strong, and much diffused by the atmospheric
vapours, is by far the most favourable time for their
appearance. In the first stages of the disease, the dark
films are not often seen by artificial light, at least in
cases where the insensibility of the retina is either
entirely or chiefly occasioned by its injurious action.
But when the eye looks at the flame of a candle or
lamp, either with or without the intervention of a
shade of obscured glass, there very frequently is a
curious appearance, as if a number of very minute and
transparent globules, resembling drops of oil on the
surface of water, and connected with each other like the
links of a chain, were floating slowly through the air, in
the same way as the dark films observed in day-light."
Amaurosis, or nervous blindness, is another disease
liable to be produced by artificial light. But, in place
of following Dr Hunter into the minutia of these dis-
eases, and their mode of treatment, we believe it will
be more satisfactory to general readers to present
them with his views on the " Choice of Artificial
Light," and the comparative advantages and disad-
vantages of each.

The circumstances to be attended to in considering the comparative advantages of different kinds of artificial light, are, 1. Purity of colour. 2. Practical convenience. 3. Economy. Oil-gas gives a very fine light, and at one time numerous companies were formed for manufacturing it; but the great expense of it proved a barrier to its general introduction. The gas obtained from rosin gives fully as good a light as oil-gas. Professor Daniell took out a patent for it, and a jointstock company was formed to manufacture it; but after expending more than L.50,000 on the works, the design was given up, as it was found that, though rosin-gas was of first-rate quality, it was too costly to compete with coal-gas.

I would place the light of gas made from parrot or cannel coal as next in purity, and first in convenience and economy. The light procured from the finer sorts of oil, especially refined sperm-oil, is the next in purity, and perhaps, in some instances, even superior, in this respect, to the light of gas made from parrot or cannel coal; but it is much less convenient and much more costly. In burning oil for the purposes of illumination, a great deal depends on the construction of the lamp, but the argand arrangement is by far the best, and is almost universally used. Next to the finer sorts of oil, the purest light is obtained from wax, spermaceti, stearine, and cocoa-nut candles; but although the quality of their light is good, it wants steadiness, the candles burn down, and all of them are more or less liable to gutter and swill, particularly where there is a varying draught of air.

The gas distilled from common sea-coal contains much less carbon, on which it has been shown that its illuminating power depends, than gas made from parrot or cannel coal; it burns with a reddish-yellow flame, of great heating power, and very hurtful to the eyes, and is quite unfit for in-door use, excepting in halls, or in public places where the eyes are not to be much exerted on minute objects. This inferior kind of coal-gas is that generally used in London, and it is a great pity that some of the metropolitan gas companies do not use a better coal, the greater cost of which would be compensated by the gas made from it being much more generally employed in private houses than at present. [In Edinburgh, gas is made from fine cannel coal, and is therefore burnt in the apartments of private houses, without creating either offensive odour or smoke.]

The light of common coarse oil-lamps and tallow candles is of very inferior quality. The lamps have the advantage of maintaining the source of the light at one elevation, and the size of the flame does not vary so much as in tallow candles, particularly the coarser kinds; for in them not only is the colour of their light highly injurious, but from the constant flickering and variation of its intensity according to the state of the wicks, they are quite unfitted for the illumination of minute objects on which the eyes are to be much employed.

All things considered, I think that the light of gas made from parrot or cannel coal is the best adapted for general purposes: the great recommendations are its purity and equability, its admitting of being so easily placed in any position, the facility of increas ing or diminishing its intensity as required, and its cleanliness, safety, and great economy."

Dr Hunter conceives, that, in burning every kind of gas, the argand lamp is not only the least likely to injure the eyesight, but the most economical form of using the article. He concludes his reflections upon the choice of artificial light by remarking that, where "the sight is much employed on fine work by gaslight, advantage should be taken, during any temporary interruption or interval, of the great facility with which the intensity of the light may be instantly diminished, so as to afford an occasional short period of rest to the eyes, and allow the exhausted retina to recover its tone." The effect of such a temporary repose is decidedly beneficial; and cold-bathing, at such intervals, is recommended by Dr Hunter as an additional preventive of bad effects.

In artificial light, the blue rays are deficient, and the red and yellow rays in excess. In this simple fact, according to the author of the treatise before us, we find the true cause of the injurious action of artificial light. Accordingly, his plans for the prevention of that injury, through mechanical aids and contrivances, have one and all of them a distinct and philosophical reference to these causes of mischief. We shall allow him to describe the first of these contrivances in his own words, though we must refer to his treatise for the figures with which he illustrates this branch of his subject.

"For the improvement, by optical means, of the naturally bad colour of artificial light, on which its injurious action so much depends, two different methods may be employed.

"It is only (says our author) when the eyes are exerted on minute objects, that artificial light is so very injurious. In public places the light is not always so strong as to injure the eyes by its direct action, and it proves hurtful chiefly by the quantity of carbonic acid that is produced by the combustion of the light-giving materials; besides, as in such places the sight is not constantly employed on one object, the bad effects of the peculiar colour of the light are often counteracted by the variety of tints reflected from the walls and furniture. But in reading, writing, sewing, type-setting, and other occupations requiring the severe, long-continued, and nightly upwards is to be deprived of its red and yellow rays by In the first of these methods, the light that passes exertion of the eyes, the light requires to be of consi- some blue intercepting surface, to reflect downwards derable defining power; and to obtain this, it must be the few remaining blue rays, which, mingling with the placed very near the eyes, which it injures by its heat-reddish-yellow coloured light, proceeding directly from ing effect as well as by its bad colour.

1. The addition, by reflection, of the blue rays that are deficient. 2. The subtraction, by absorption, of the red and yellow rays that are in excess.

the flame, shall form a compound light of a white colour, from the primary rays contained in it being *Sometimes it is of a pale reddish or yellowish-white colour, nearly in the same proportions to each other as in when seen by the left eye. daylight. In the second method, the direct light

1

CHAMBERS'S EDINBURGH JOURNAL.

emanating from the flame is to be passed through some transparent medium of a blue tint, such as stained glass, or a coloured fluid, which shall absorb the excess of red and yellow rays, and transmit white light. I will begin by describing the first, or the reflective method of improving the colour of artificial light, as being the simplest, and perhaps the most generally useful. All that is requisite is to provide a conical reflector [like a section of the lower part of a sugar loaf], the inner surface of which should be stained or painted of a sky-blue or azure colour; this reflector must be placed round the flame. The effect of this arrangement is, that all the light passing upwards is intercepted by the sloping sides of the reflector; its red and yellow rays are absorbed, whilst the blue ones are reflected downwards, and made to combine with and improve the bad colour of the light proceeding directly from the flame.

which he had received so much kindness, and for every |
member of which he felt so strong an affection. As
was natural, however, Mrs Shirley and aunt Mary,
who were auditors of the conversation between Arthur
and Harriet, only smiled at it as a passing jest.
Arthur Carey bade farewell to his friends, and em-
barked for the Eldorado of the youth of Britain, the
great empire won by the valour of their fathers in the
East. He owed to Mr Shirley's care many of the
necessaries composing his outfit; and thus was the
feeling of gratitude deepened towards that generous
By him, Arthur was also supplied with
friend.
letters of recommendation to parties of rank and in-
fluence in Madras, which was the youth's particular
destination. On his arrival there, he found these
letters of much consequence. They introduced him
to a circle of friends who had a great deal in their
power, and gave him the opportunity of gaining their
esteem, and so ensuring the future exercise of their
interest in his favour. Possessed of a good person,
engaging manners, and abilities well developed by
education, young Carey was indeed calculated to make
his way rapidly in society. Before two years passed,
he had raised himself from the subordinate position in
which he had commenced his Indian career, to a situ-
ation seldom held by one so young, and was already in
the enjoyment of an income much above his wants.
The prospects, also, which he had of further promo-
tion, were excellent, provided he pursued the same
active and industrious line of conduct which he had
entered upon at his starting.

The reflectors may be made of any convenient ma-
terial, such as silk, tinted paper, or painted metal.
The silk reflectors are the most elegant, but they
are more expensive, and apt to be injured by the
heat; those made of stiff paper or bristol board are
cheap, easily made, and answer very well; but the
most durable, and perhaps the best, are made of tin-
plate or sheet-brass, bronzed on the outside, and
painted of a light sky-blue on the inside. No pigment
answers so well for giving the necessary tint to the
reflecting surface, as a mixture of ultra-marine and
prussian blue. When a light blue-coloured reflector
is placed over an ordinary flame, the effect is very
And what, does the reader think, was the purpose to
marked; objects, such as the page of a book, no longer
appear of a reddish-yellow colour, but of a much which Arthur applied his first free earnings in India?
whiter and purer colour; the light becomes delight- The following extract from a letter written by him to
fully cool and agreeable to the eyes, and, from its Mrs Shirley, will explain the matter:-"I owe much
to Mr Shirley, more than I can ever repay. The re-
whiteness, its defining power is much increased."
The second method of improving the colour of arti-membrance of what he did for me never leaves, nor
ficial light, is by causing it to pass through a medium can leave, my mind. Indeed, I think of him, and of
of a pale blue colour, thus absorbing the excess of red all of you, continually. I have acquaintances and even
and yellow rays. Dr Hunter does not approve much dear friends here, but none of them hold the place in
of the blue spectacles used for this purpose, as the eye my heart which is held by you and yours. Is this to
is liable to overlook them, and as they do not mode- be wondered at? I had no parents, no home on earth,
rate the heat of the light. A better plan, according when you took me in, gave me a home, and supplied
to him, is to use an argand lamp with a pale blue glass to me the place of parents. When I hear my young
chimney, and with a conical reflector of polished metal companions speaking of their fathers and mothers in
to throw down the light in a concentrated form, and Britain, I think of you, and speak of you to them,
My cir-
so make up for the darkening caused by the coloured with the joyous consciousness that I too have dear ones
far away, who remember and love me.
glass.
cumstances being such as I describe, I wish so far to
show my gratitude for what is past. Mr Shirley
obtained for me a settlement in life; will he allow me
to do a somewhat similar action by one of his family?
The money which accompanies this packet, I give him
free leave to dispose of as he thinks fit; but if circum-
stances permit, and he is willing to dispose of it ac-
cording to my liking, he will apply it to the education
of Harriet. You may not remember a conversation
that passed between that sweet little cousin of mine
and myself, just before I left England, when she
promised to be my tall, great' wife. I will not con-
ceal from you that often, often has my mind reverted
since to that conversation, and that at this moment I
feel that it would be a source of the deepest pleasure to
me, to be one day connected with you by a close and
irrevocable tie. But it will be time enough long after-
wards to think of this. Heaven forbid that I should
ever prosecute such a wish, against the future inclina-
tions of either Harriet or you. In the mean time, I
think you will not be offended at what I propose, but
will regard this as a gift coming from a son or a
brother."

Dr Hunter conceives that where the light is not above the level of the eye, and must fall on the organ, it is necessary to use shades as a preservative, and approves most of those which are painted interiorly with ultra-marine, worked up with mastic varnish. There are many other practical lessons of great value in the work from which we have made these excerpts. We are bound to say, that this is the first time that we have ever seen the subject under consideration treated in a philosophical way, important as it has always been to mankind.

STORY OF HARRIET SHIRLEY. "So, my sweet cousin, you faithfully promise to be my little wife-don't you?"

"No, I won't be your little wife, for when you come back, I shall be tall like mamma or aunt Mary. I will be your great, tall wife.”

“Ah, but, my pretty Harriet, you forget how long I may be away, and that I may come home a withered, frightful-looking old man, all wrinkled, and blackened by the sun. What should you say to me then, Harriet? You will still be quite young when I am very old, and I am afraid you will forget your promise to poor cousin Arthur."

"Oh no, indeed I shall not-if mamma will let me love you then; I wont forget you."

This brief conversation, so abruptly reported to the reader, passed between a young man of seventeen or eighteen, and a little girl, some eight or nine years younger, with whose family his own was distantly connected. Arthur Carey was the son of a thriving and respectable attorney in London, and had received a good education preparatory to his entrance on his father's profession. But the untimely deaths of both his parents materially altered his position and prospects. Being not yet ready for a legal career, and having little or no means left him for the completion of his studies, he might have been in a situation of great distress and difficulty, but for the intervention of a distant relative, Mr Shirley, who invited the youth to his house, and bestirred himself so actively in his favour, as to procure him a civil appointment or clerkship in the East Indies. All this was the more honourable to Mr Shirley, as he was far from being a wealthy man, and had a sufficient family of his own to provide for, without expending his interest or means in behalf of one who had but very remote claims upon him.

Arthur Carey passed the period intervening between his appointment and his departure at the house of Mr Shirley, where he received so much kindness as touched his heart warmly and lastingly. It was at this time that the conversation already recorded took place between him and his little cousin, as he called her, Harriet Shirley. It would be ridiculous to say that the dialogue was a serious one, though perhaps the child, in her youthful simplicity, was perfectly in earnest, and though Arthur felt at the time, in his heart of hearts, that it would be delightful at some future period to connect himself with the family from

*

It is unnecessary to quote the words of Arthur's letter further. It is enough for our purpose to say that the Shirleys were greatly pleased, rather than offended, by this mark of the young man's gratitude, and that, from this time forth, an idea perfectly in unison with that entertained by Arthur took possession of their minds. Nor did they conceal the circumstance from Harriet, who, whatever was the case with Mrs Shirley, had by no means forgotten, young as she was, the promise to poor Arthur. She was now about ten years of age, and, in accordance with the wish expressed in the preceding letter, her father devoted the money sent from India to the procuring of instructions for her, of a kind which the state of his circumstances, as well as a sense of what was due to the rest of his family, would have otherwise forbidden him to bestow on any one of his children. At the same time, being a man of sense and prudence, he took care not to treat the proposal of Arthur as a solemn and binding engagement, resolving to be guided in the affair by after-circumstances.

When other two years passed away, Arthur Carey transmitted to his friends a second sum for the continuation of Harriet's education. He had gained another step in the career to which he had devoted himself, and his emoluments were now still more considerable, enabling him to increase the amount of his inclosure to Mr Shirley. During the succeeding six years he repeated these transmissions of money every second year, being always, as he told his friends, better and better able to do so, from his advances in his profession. In the interval, Harriet Shirley had sprung up into a beautiful and accomplished woman. And what were her feelings now, the reader may ask, with regard to this somewhat remarkable engagement with Arthur Carey? The truth is, that for several years she had corresponded regularly with him, and by degrees their letters had become those of declared and attached lovers. Miniatures had been exchanged, and

to Arthur the soft full blue eyes, light hair, and beautiful complexion of his mistress, were as well known as his own manly, embrowned features were to her. As the family refrained from unnecessarily speaking of the engagement of Harriet, she was not without admirers at home ere she reached nineteen, but, though gentle and flexible to a fault in disposition, she firmly and at once refused them, declaring her heart and hand already engaged. Her family were glad to see this, and Mr Shirley in particular, because he had had occasion more than once to reprove his daughter for her over-easy temperament, which, as he told her, was as likely to impair her happiness as the other extreme of obstinacy.

However, as has been said, Harriet remained unalterably faithful to the image of "poor cousin Arthur," and it was with blushing pride and pleasure that she placed in her father's hands a letter in which Arthur at length tenderly and respectfully entreated her to complete his happiness, and to come to him under the care of the bearer of the letter, who had gone to England for a single month's stay, and was about to return immediately to India. Arthur had hoped to come to England in person for his bride, but he afterwards found this impracticable, without serious detriment to his interests. The bearer of the letter was a Colonel Monson, a gentleman far advanced in years, who had promised to take care of Harriet (Arthur said) as a tomed to look forward to the union of their daughter father would have done. Mr Shirley and his wife, and indeed their whole family, had been so long accuswith Arthur Carey, that they had no other feeling on this occasion than a natural anxiety that Harriet should perform her destined voyage in safety and comfort. They entertained Colonel Monson for several days, and were pleased to receive from him assurances that every possible attention would be paid to Harriet on her route.

All was bustle and preparation in Mrs Shirley's household during the short month preceding her daughter's embarkation. At length the time came for the farewell. Mr Shirley alone attended Harriet and Colonel Monson to the port whence the Iris sailed. But the father, too, parted from his weeping girl, and then she was left alone. During the first days of the voyage she remained confined to her cabin, partly partly through the uneasy feelings incidental to a first through a wish to compose her mind by solitude, and trip at sea. She derived, in this situation, some comfort from the attentions of Mrs Watt, a middle-aged lady, whom Colonel Monson had introduced to her as the wife of an officer in his corps, who was about to rejoin her husband at Madras, after a visit to Britain. woman of refined breeding, but her society in such Harriet soon saw that Mrs Captain Watt was not a When Harriet first made her appearance on deck, circumstances was nevertheless of some value. she was received by Colonel Monson with a degree of warmth and empressement which seemed to her greatly to exceed the occasion, but she attributed this merely to his kindly nature. However, as day after day passed away, the manner of the old colonel-for, though a hale man, he was considerably beyond the age of threescore-became more and more marked by the same officious attentiveness, so as by degrees to generate rather uneasy feelings in Harriet's mind. She observed, also, that Mrs Watt began to sound the praises of the colonel, and to boast of his wealth, and of maintain at Madras. Miss Shirley contented herself the magnificent establishment he maintained or could with turning a cold ear to these remarks, and giving them no answer. She could as yet scarcely believe that the suspicion which they gave rise to had any serious foundation, particularly as Colonel Monson knew so well the purpose for which she was now on her way to India. But she was ere long undeceived. To her pain and surprise the colonel one day took advantage of a moment when they were left alone, Harriet Shirley, it has been said, was of a nature to make her an offer of his hand and fortune! "Is it rather deficient in firmness, but she could not disguise her anger and disgust at this communication. "Engagement, Miss possible, sir," said she, "that you can be aware of the engagement which I am now going to India to fulfil, and yet address me in this manner?" "You are mistaken, sir, Shirley!" replied the colonel, "you cannot call it an engagement! You have never seen Mr Carey-you in every respect; and I hope that, since you are now aware of it, this will be the first and last time I shall Miss Shirley turned away, and retired to her cabin to be addressed on such a subject." With these words, reflect with pain on this disagreeable confirmation of her suspicions.

cannot be attached to him."

Alas! well would it have been for the peace of poor Harriet, had the firmness which she had shown on this occasion characterised her conduct permanently! Colonel Monson was not deterred from his purpose by what had passed. He repeated his addresses in the most pertinacious manner, till the peace of the young lady was completely overturned. When she avoided his sight, he made his subservient friend, Mrs Watt, urge his suit on the poor girl, till she was driven to a state of despair. She had no friend beside her, no one to give her counsel, no one to free her from this Watt declared that the colonel would certainly destroy persecution. Among other modes of annoyance, Mrs himself, if she continued to treat him with cruelty. This last argument had a direful effect on Harriet's mind. Her terrors were excited; she was kept in a

state of perpetual alarm, and sleep became a stranger to her pillow. At length, when the vessel cast anchor at the Cape of Good Hope, Miss Shirley's fears and distress were brought to a climax, by the cry, one morning, of "a man overboard!" Mrs Watt rushed to her side. It was the colonel, she said; he had at last thrown himself overboard, as he had threatened to do. In reality, Miss Shirley soon afterwards saw him brought on deck, just rescued from the waters in time to save his life. We shall draw a veil over the particulars of the scene that followed. Impelled by persecution and terror, Miss Shirley became the wife of Colonel Monson at Cape Town, on the day on which the event happened which has now been related.

in various principles connected with their profession," so far as it is connected with manufacture, it appears and in some degree analogous to our Schools of to me to exhibit the true principle on which a school Arts or Mechanics' Institutions. The Prussian go- of design ought to be constituted, whether it confine vernment appears to be more desirous of cultivating itself to one branch of industry, or extend its operathe national taste by means of general instruction, tions over the whole field of ornamented manufacture. than of rearing a mere body of designers, although that By the account I have given of it, the instruction will object is not neglected. The higher academies of art be observed to be twofold; one part relating to the produce specimens of ornamental designs, which are general study of art, and the other to the process of dispersed among manufacturers, to guide them in the manufacture to which art is to be applied; the latter arrangement of their patterns. The system seems naturally giving rise to what constitutes the ultimate well adapted to a community in the infancy of intelli- purpose of the school; namely, the practice of the gence and social privileges, and forms a solid founda- particular species of design which is adapted to the tion for future fame in all branches of the fine arts. reproductive capabilities of the fabric. Thus it will In Bavaria, the cultivation of every kind of orna- be seen that the elements of the education of an inHad Harriet Shirley known at the time that mental and useful art receives the most liberal encou- dustrial artist, which in the German system are diColonel Monson, before he threw himself overboard, ragement. The plan of public instruction which has vided among two or three separate schools, are here had paid two men liberally to stand in readiness to been devised by his present majesty, consists of six to be found united in one; that is to say, the relation pick him up, this sad affair might have ended other-sections, embracing Purely scientific education; of ornamental design to taste, and the principles of wise. She did know of this mean and villanous Purely popular education; Agricultural, combined fine art, and its practical relation to manufacture, artifice ere long afterwards, for the coarse and base with scientific education; Technical or Industrial, equally form the business of the school of Lyons." agent of the colonel, Mrs Watt, scrupled not to avow combined with scientific studies; and Technical, com- The kind of instruction given at this school makes that the scheme was of her suggestion, and one in bined with popular instruction. Each of the six sec- the study of the more elevated branches of art so which she prided herself in proportion to its success. tions commences in an elementary grade, and, accord- common or of easy access, that there is much less preWe cannot describe what were Harriet's feelings on ing to its nature and purpose, finds its termination in tension about French than English artists, for what learning this, nor shall we attempt to depict her suffer- some one of the superior steps. In all the sections of many can do is of comparatively small esteem. It is ings on the remainder of the voyage between the Cape instruction, and in every grade, the study of art occu- considered no degradation in an artist to adopt patternand Madras. Let us hasten to the close of our story. pies a prominent place. It is considered to be the drawing as a profession, because this pursuit is every Arthur Carey waited and watched for the arrival duty of all schoolmasters, and of all public officers of whit as respectable as that of portrait or any other of the Iris at Madras, with an eagerness and anxiety the districts where the schools are, to encourage pupils, kind of painting, and is probably as well remunerated. not to be described. As the appointed time drew particularly those who show talent, to apply themnear, his longings increased in ardour. Every leisure selves to drawing of various kinds, and to explain to moment was spent in scanning the sea in the offing their parents its importance. In the Polytechnic with his glass. On the very day which he had cal- schools, which are of a high grade, the course of inculated upon, a ship-the Iris-did appear. Ar- struction in drawing and designing is very complete, thur lost not a moment in flying to the harbour. and on the soundest principles of exact science. Much He threw himself into a boat, and was rowed to the is done to improve the general taste, by the constant vessel's side. With a heart beating with a thousand exhibition of the finest models of art, both in painting fond anticipations, he sprang upon deck. In an in- and sculpture. Nuremberg and Munich abound in stant, out of all the throng there, his eye selected a the finest monuments of taste and industrial art. well-known face. It was one pale as death. Arthur As respects the general cultivation of taste, and rushed forward. "Miss Shirley! Harriet!" he ex- the advancement in scientific and artistic knowledge, claimed, as with open arms he made his way to- both the Prussian and Bavarian routine of instruction wards her; but at the sound of her name she cast is unexceptionable, but each fails in producing a body her eye hurriedly upon him, and, turning away, fell of individuals who are closely identified with that in a half-fainting state upon the bulwark of the ship. class of manufacturers of goods who require ornamental "Stop, sir," cried Colonel Monson, whom Arthur now patterns. In France, the routine of instruction in art saw as he reached Harriet's side; "this lady is not is more perfect than in other continental countries, now Miss Shirley! She is my wife!" as it includes that most important branch which bears directly on the designing of patterns for manufacturers. Of the various schools, elementary and academic, for cultivating pupils for the higher branches of art, it is unnecessary to extract any account, and we shall confine ourselves to that class of seminaries which we should call Schools of Design.

The averted looks of Harriet had partly alarmed the young man, and Colonel Monson's words now came upon him with the effect of a stroke of lightning. The shock was more than his mind could bear. He reeled, and fell upon the deck. When he was raised and taken away, reason had fled for ever!

This is an "ower true tale." Harriet yet lives, and indeed is still a young woman; but she is old in misery a wretched, broken-hearted creature. The man whom she really loved, though she was weak enough to permit herself to be betrayed into wedlock with another, is an inmate of an asylum for the

insane.

CONTINENTAL SCHOOLS OF DESIGN.

IN consequence of the superior taste which is displayed in the ornamental designs in silk and other fabrics of continental manufacture, the British government a short time ago deputed William Dyce, Esq. to make a personal inquiry into the state of Schools of Design in Prussia, Bavaria, and France, with a view to the improvement of artistic education in this country. Mr Dyce having performed this honourable mission, has, at the solicitation of the House of Commons, laid his Report before the President of the Board of Trade, and it is now published as a parliamentary paper, for general information. We propose to give an abridged view of Mr Dyce's narrative and observations.

In Prussia, the elementary and ulterior instruction of artists forms a considerable department of the general education established throughout the country. Every encouragement is given to the children of the poor and middle classes to cultivate a taste for drawing, founded on the best models and the instruction of masters. There are two principal elementary schools, one at Berlin and the other at Dusseldorff, under the direction of the Royal Academies of these places. Besides these, there are twenty elementary schools of lesser importance in the provinces. These are open to all without restriction, and serve for the instruction of candidates for the higher schools of the academies. In these public academical drawing-schools there are taught, 1. Drawing from the antique, &c. 2. Modelling from the antique, &c. 3. Geometrical and architectural drawing. At the Royal Academy of Dusseldorff, besides an elementary class of this description on week days, there is a Sunday school after the termination of divine service, in which instruction is given gratuitously to the poorer classes. The pupils at these and similar schools are encouraged to proceed, and receive pecuniary assistance in their study of art, according as they show aptitude. Specimens of their work are forwarded to Berlin, and those who have distinguished themselves are rewarded with prizes, or, in remarkable cases, they receive pensions, to enable them to pursue their study at the metropolis. The expenses of the schools are defrayed partly by the government, and partly by universal and local subscrip

tion.

Besides this class of schools, there are two institutions at Berlin, the Gewerb Institut and the Bau Academie, both intended for instructing mechanics

The principal school of this kind is at Lyons, the seat of the silk manufacture. All the students who enter the school commence as if they intended to become artists in the higher sense of the word, and it is not till they have completed their exercises in the drawing and painting of the human figure from the antique and the living model, that they are called upon to decide whether their future pursuits shall tend towards design for industry, or the production of works of fine art. This circumstance, among others, will account for the well-known fact, that the same individuals in France are frequently engaged in both pursuits. The order of study embraces an elementary class for principles No. 1 and 2, in which shadowing and the use of chalks are taught, class of drawing from casts, classes for drawing and painting figures, class of architecture and ornament, class for painting flowers in distemper and oil, classes of engraving and sculpture, and classes de la mise en carte, or the art of putting patterns on the cards for the Jacquard loom. The student of design for silk is occupied one year in the study of ancient ornament, arabesques, &c., during which he is exercised also in designing lasts for two years, and the class of the theory of original compositions. The class of flower painting manufacture an indefinite period. The same students are frequently, and indeed generally, in the two latter at the same time, as the two together constitute strictly the study of design for silk. The school is open from nine till two every day, from the 1st of November till the 31st of March, and from eight till one from the 1st April till the 31st of August, when a vacation of two months takes place. The mayor of Lyons nominates the pupils, giving always a preference to the children of merchants or manufacturers who are themselves destined to the manufacture of silk. The school has ten masters or professors, and its annual cost is 28,580 francs, of which 25,480 francs is allowed by the town of Lyons, and 3100 francs by the government.

Besides the branches of instruction given in the school, there are others connected with its main purpose taught in the same building. These are a course of anatomy applied to the arts, which is given every Thursday from three to four, in the saloon of the Museum of Natural History; and a course of practical geometry on Sunday, at one o'clock. The latter is conducted with open doors. Besides the school and these public lectures, there is a museum of pictures, antiquities, and casts of ancient sculpture, which is always open to the students, and to the public on Sunday and Thursday; a museum of natural history, and a library, are also accessible at certain times to the pupils of the school.

"On a review of the method of instruction adopted in the school of Lyons," says Mr Dyce in his Report,

"The business of the pattern-designer and metteur en carte (putter of the design on the card) both in the same person, does not cease with the mere production of a drawing on paper; he also superintends its being set up and worked in the loom; and thus he is enabled to correct, to retouch (if I may be allowed the expression), and to finish his design. So complete is the co-operation between the designer and the patternweaver, that both may be said to be engaged about one object; the latter being an instrument in the hands of the former to accomplish a work of art, towards the production of which the labours of the designer really tend, a pattern wrought in silk, and not one sketched on paper.

There is no circumstance, indeed, in France, connected with the application of design, not merely to the silk manufacture, but to every branch of industry, that deserves more especial notice than the high est mation in which industrial artists are held, and the free and unrestrained exercise of their judgment and taste, which is consequently allowed to them in all matters over which their peculiar abilities ought properly to give them control. So entire is the confidence which the Lyonese manufacturer reposes in his designer, that I have been assured by the head of one of the principal houses there, that in many cases he did not see the patterns till they were produced in silk, being quite satisfied that in every matter where taste was concerned, the artist must know better than he. In short, a French pattern-designer is looked upon in his sphere precisely in the same light as a professor of fine art.

I am quite persuaded that if there is one cause more powerful than another which has contributed to retard, or which now presents an obstacle to the progress of taste in British manufacture, it is the degraded position which pattern-designers occupy a position in which their talents find no scope for developement, and their taste and judgment as artists are set at nought. The mechanical business of copying, altering, or dovetailing patterns, already in some shape in the British or foreign market (which is all that a draftsman is now called upon to do), is neither lucrative, nor does it hold out the very smallest prospect of that kind of reputation and applause which French designers individually enjoy, and which every one knows is the most powerful motive for exertion with young artists; the consequence is, that if a youth of natural ability the higher walks of art, he will rather take his chance thinks he has any prospect whatever of succeeding in in this than submit to the thankless drudgery to which he is exposed as a pattern draftsman.

In Lyons, the commercial value of taste is reckoned so high, that when a young man displays remarkable powers, a house will admit him to a partnership, in order completely to monopolise his services. Even in general employment, a Lyonese pattern-designer in good practice realises as much as 10,000 francs per annum; which, considering the comparative value of money in Lyons and any town in England, must be reckoned a sum much beyond the conceptions of remuneration on the part of English manufacturers. But why is this? French manufacturer incurs little or no expense for the purchase of foreign designs; he does not employ agents to obtain, at all hazards, a pattern of every new article that appears in the London or Paris market; he never suffers the loss (so frequent in this country) arising from his having manufactured the same pirated design simultaneously with three or four other houses; and therefore it is that he can afford to pay his artist highly. Though the sum he thus expends may appear large, the outlay on patterns in France is not greater than it is in England, if indeed it be so great. But the difference is this, that the money which in France is paid directly to the artist, is in England frittered away on expedients for superseding the employment of original designers ;expedients which, if law and honesty are to be taken into account, cannot be reckoned other than illegitimate, and which, if prudence, must, I fear, be thought

For this obvious reason: the

CHAMBERS'S EDINBURGH JOURNAL.

very short-sighted, because the great bulk of patterns executed in England according to the present system, must inevitably want the stamp of novelty and origi nality, which is not only the great characteristic of the French, but is really the advantage which the French manufacturer gains by paying liberally for the assistance and judgment of highly educated artists."

66

Here was indeed a man fit to be a chef de cuisine, as the French impressively call a culinary professor of the highest order. But more recent days have not been without his equals. "Two shall be named, preLouis Euseminently great," Ude and Carème. tache Ude, a Frenchman by birth, was "cook to the unfortunate Louis XVI. of France, subsequently to the Earl of Sefton, and, finally, steward to the Duke of York," as he himself tells us in his great work, entitled the "French Cook." The high value which he set upon his art may be partly gathered from the accredited story, that he left the service of the Earl of neux, was said "to have put sait into a soup of his (the Sefton, because that nobleman's eldest son, Lord Molysieur Ude) which requires much time, intelligence, and cook's) composition." "Cookery is an art (says Monactivity, to be acquired in perfection. Music, dancing, fencing, painting, and mechanics in general, possess professors under twenty years of age, whereas in the first line of cooking, pre-eminence never occurs under thirty. We see daily at concerts and academies, young men and women who display the greatest abilities; but in our line nothing but the most consummate Why should we not be proud of our knowledge in experience can elevate a man to the rank of chief professor. What science demands more study than cookery? cookery? It is the soul of festivity at all times, and to all ages. How many marriages have been the consequence of meeting at dinner! How much good fortune has been the result of a good supper!" In accordance with the spirit of these remarks, M. Ude Monsieur de Carème is a modern and living French is said to have told Sir Humphry Davy one day," Ab, Sromfrederi, de Society of de Royal Institution shal cook, of perhaps still higher celebrity. He is of a house of cooks; one of his lineal ancestors, the founder not nevare be complet till dere is one chair of cookery." of the family, having been cook to the convivial pope, Leo X.; by inventing a peculiar soup for whom, as a dish for Lent, he got the name of Jean de Carème (Jack-a-Lent). The descendant of Jack-a-Lent is chef de cuisine to the millionary Baron de Rothschild. over all Europe, that the Emperor of Russia and vaAs he grew up, his hereditary talents gradually developed themselves, and he became so greatly renowned rious other sovereigns sought his services. He accepted only eight months in the English prince's household, an offer from George IV., then regent, but remained was a boorish establishment." He certainly did not declaring as he left it, according to report, that "it talents, for the great of London did not disdain to pay quit England because due honour was not paid to his immense prices for his second-hand patties after they had made their appearance at the regent's table. from him an allowance greater than monarchs could Employed finally by the Baron de Rothschild (brother of the great London Rothschild), Carème received merits, and the fussy reverence, but slightly hid unafford. Lady Morgan, in her " France in 1829-30," 66 man at has become the recorder of this culinary artist's der a tone of exaggeration and banter, with which she speaks of him, is most amusing. The "immortal the head of his class," this "extraordinary and celeCarème," such "philosophers as Carème," a brated person"-such are the appropriate terms which she employs in mentioning him. She was asked to Rothschild's to dinner. Previously to this time, "I had no experience," says she, " of the works of Carème. I had yet to judge (in his own words) of those me-faculties of a renowned practitioner.' I did not hear liorations in his art, produced by the intellectual the announcement of dinner without emotion. To do justice to the science and research of a dinner so delicate viands, extracted in silver dews,' with cheserved, would require a knowledge of the art equal to that which produced it. Distillations of the most mical precision,

a

Beneath these lobster-patties; patient here, Fixed as a statue, skim, incessant skim. Steep well this small glociscus in its sauce, And boil that sea-dog in a cullender; This eel requires more salt and marjorum; Roast well that piece of kid on either side Equal; that sweet-bread boil not overmuch." 'Tis thus, my friend, I make the concert play. And then no useless dish my table crowds; Harmonious ranged, and consonantly just! As in a concert instruments resound, Mr Dyce concludes by recommending the British My ordered dishes in their courses chime. government to introduce into the School of Design in Some of the great Greek cooks, of the cast of the Somerset House, certain kinds of apparatus connected with manufacturing industry, with the view of rendering the studies of the pupils more practical; but we preceding gentleman, carried their art to such perfecon one side, and roasted on the other; and stuffed besides, should doubt whether this will have any powerful tion that they were able to serve up a whole pig, boiled effect in improving the patterns of our various manuinventor of this feat was cruel enough to keep the profactures. In this country, generally, the public taste though without visible mark of the knife upon it. The is defective, and there lies the foundation of our poor patterns in all branches of art. Improve taste by in- cess secret for a whole year; at length it was revealed, troducing elementary drawing into all our schools, let that he had bled the animal to death by a very small there be a free and constant exhibition of works of art, wound under the shoulder, by which he had also exand let encouragement be given to artists and designers tracted the entrails piecemeal; that he had forced the according to merit, without regard to rank or party in- stuffing down the throat; and that by means of barley terest, and we shall have little to fear for the improve- paste he had prevented the roasting on one side, having ment of our more elegant class of manufactures. In boiled it afterwards. It is said also of these Greek England, fashion is often led by very vulgar circum-cooks, that, by their saltings, picklings, and fryings, stances, and the designer, instead of improving upon, they could actually make a turnip pass for any kind of "DeOne ancient epicure, by name Philoxenus, made has to follow the taste, however absurd. In France, fish or flesh they chose! as we learn, they manage these things better. sign for industry," says Mr Dyce, is not an ab- himself famous by habituating himself to the touch stract thing; it is not the business of the designer to and taste of water scalding hot, that he might feel the produce good patterns for any possible condition of less impediment in swallowing the hottest dishes. A manufacture, but, taking it as he finds it, to bring congenial spirit appeared in the Roman Apicius, who his cultivated taste to bear on its improvement. It made a voyage to Africa, in a time of tempest, merely is the fashion of each succeeding season that he has because he had heard that the shrimps were larger to deal with. The practice of French manufacturers there. Finding this to be a mistake, he turned his We might greatly prolong our notices of ancient in this respect seems to me worthy of being noticed. back on Africa with contempt. In casting It is, I believe, considered by them that fashion is space for matters of more modern date. something more than the mere caprice of the moment; cookery and epicurism, but it is our wish to leave some and though individuals of rank or of celebrity of some kind may for a time give a particular bias to the mode, our eye downwards from antiquity, we light upon one yet that the current of taste in the ordinary matters peculiarly prominent culinary figure, the famous of life has its origin in, and takes its direction from, the Vatel, cook to the great Prince of Condé. Vatel was general character and habits of society. Hence they a worthy professor of his art, and profoundly sensible say, if we refer to the history of any past age, of its dignity and importance. His death, as recorded we shall find the records of its literature and its art, by Madame Sevigné, is one of the finest touches of the ever was perpetuated by pen or press. Louis XIV. and the remains of its every-day appliances of life, (it would be almost cruel to say mock-) heroic, that all partaking of some common character or sentiment. Acting on this notion, the manufacturers of had gone to Chantilly to visit the Condé. Vatelman eminently distinguished for taste, and whose France make it their business to discern accurately whom the acute Sevigné does not hesitate to term " the characteristics of the under-current of feeling to which fashion and its changes are supposed to be due, abilities were equal to the government of a state," not "The king (says Sevigne) arrived on Thursday night; and by this means to keep pace with people's incli- to speak of a kitchen-Vatel was put upon his mettle. nations, and even to anticipate them. We know,' said one of the Lyonese manufacturers to me, 'that the walk, and the collation, which was served in a when the fashion of this year shall have run its course, place set apart for the purpose, and strewed with jonevery one will have a longing for something new; yet quils, were just as they should be. Supper was served, not absolutely new, but something to which the present but there was no roast meat at one or two of the mode naturally tends. That something which in the tables, on account of Vatel's having been obliged to I cannot bear this world of fashion is only an indefinite sentiment, in provide several dinners more than were expected. This fact, a mere predisposition, we endeavour to render pal- affected his spirits, and he was heard to say several disgrace! My head is quite bewildered,' said he to pable, to give it a strongly pronounced character, and times, I have lost my fame! Gourville. I have not had a wink of sleep these twelve assign it a name.' nights; I wish you would assist me in giving orders. Gourville did all he could to comfort and assist him; but the failure of the roast meat (which, however, did not happen at the king's table, but at some of the other twenty-five), was always uppermost with him. Gourville mentioned it to the prince, who went directly to Vatel's apartment, and said to him, Every thing is more admirable than his majesty's supper.' 'Your extremely well conducted, Vatel; nothing could be highness's goodness,' replied he, 'overwhelms me; I am sensible that there was a deficiency of roast meat at two tables. Not at all,' said the prince; do not perplex fireworks did not succeed; they were covered with a yourself, and all will go well.' Midnight came the thick cloud; they cost sixteen thousand francs. At four o'clock in the morning, Vatel went round, and found every body asleep; he met one of the under"Yes, sir,' of fish. What!' said he, is this all?' purveyors, who was just come in with only two loads said the man, not knowing that Vatel had dispatched other people to all the sea-ports round. Vatel waited for some time; the other purveyors did not arrive; his head grew distracted; he thought there was no more fish to be had; he flew to Gourville. 'Sir,' said he, I cannot outlive this disgrace.' Gourville laughed at him; Vatel, however, went to his apartment, and ineffectual attempts, succeeded in the third, in forcing This great distinctive quality has been called abun-setting the hilt of his sword against the door, after two dantly into exercise by mankind, at all times since the the sword through his heart. At that instant the carriers arrived with the fish; Vatel was inquired beginning of the world. It may be imagined by some after to distribute it; they ran to his apartment, people that our luxurious age is peculiarly the age of cooks, but this is very far from being the case. which they broke it open, and found him weltering in Greeks and Romans carried the niceties of the culi-knocked at the door, but received no answer; upon nary art to a pitch exceeding any thing thought of his blood. A messenger was immediately dispatched to acquaint the prince with what had happened, who even by the Udes or a Carème of our day. Could either was like a man in despair. The duke wept, for his of these famous moderns entertain a higher sense of Burgundy journey depended upon Vatel. The prince the duties and dignity of a master of their art than the Greek head cook, who thus speaks in Athenæus ? related the whole affair to his majesty with an expresThe passage is translated in D'Israeli's Curiosities of sion of great concern: it was considered as the consequence of too nice a sense of honour; some blamed, Literature. others praised him for his courage. The king said he had put off this excursion for more than five years, because he was aware that it would be attended with infinite trouble, and told the prince that he ought to have had but two tables, and not have been at the expense of so many, and declared he would never suffer Vatel." *See Kirby and Spence, or Paley's Natural Theology (People's him to do so again; but all this was too late for poor

man to be a

66

66 reason

COOKS AND COOKERY. SOME acute and discriminate philosopher has defined cooking animal." The full force and accuracy of this definition may not be apparent at first sight, but a moment's consideration will satisfy any one upon the subject. We cannot call man exclusively a "speaking" animal, for the parrot and the starling share with him the endowment of articulated talk. We cannot term him par excellence a ing" animal, for the elephant and the dog, not to speak of other creatures, exhibit well-marked degrees, at least, of the faculty of ratiocination. Nor can we style him a "house-building" animal, for birds inhabit tenements of their own erection, every whit as perfect As little can we say that he is the only "clothes-wearing" being, for, admitting that neither shell-fish, nor the ordinary members of the ephemeral creation, make use of what may be properly called garments, there is at least one little insect, the clothesmoth, which makes for itself a dress of wool lined with silk, as dexterously as any tailor, and wears it as gracefully as any human exquisite.* So that, after all, the definition alluded to is by no means a joke, but, in reality, the most correct that could be given. No animated creature but man, as far as we are aware, cooks its food.

as his.

I never enter in my kitchen, I!
But sit apart, and in the cool direct;
Observant of whate'er may pass within,
The scullions' toil. I guide the mighty whole,
Explore the causes, prophesy the dish.

'Tis thus I speak: "leave, leave that ponderous ham;
Keep up the fire, and lively play the flame

Edition, page 64).

The

[ocr errors]

• On tepid clouds of rising steam,'

formed the basis of all. Every meat preserved its own
verdure. With less genius than went to the compo-
natural aroma; every vegetable its own shade of
sition of this dinner, men have written epic poenis ;
and if crowns were distributed to cooks as to actors,
never were more fairly won than the laurel which
the wreath of Pasta or Sontag, divine as they are,
On good
should have graced the brow of Carème, for this spe-
cimen of the intellectual perfection of an art, the stan-
dard and gauge of modern civilisation!
the permanence of a good organisation; and on these
cookery depends good health; on good health depends
the whole excellence in the structure of human so-
ciety.

As I was seated next to Monsieur Rothschild, I would utter a word before?), that I was not wholly took occasion to insinuate, after the soup (for who was already well acquainted, theoretically, with his unworthy of a place at a table served by Carème, as I merits. Ah, well,' said Monsieur Rothschild, laughing, 'he, on his side, has also relished your works, and here is a proof of it.' I really blush, like Sterne's accusing spirit, as I give in the fact; but he pointed to a column of the most ingenious confectionery architecture, on which my name was inscribed in spun sugar. My name written in sugar! Ye Quarterlys and Blackwoods, and thou, false and faithless Westminster! Ye who have never traced my proscribed name but in gall! think of Lady Morgan' in sugar!

All I could do under my triumphant emotion I flattering artist, and promised, should I ever again did. I begged to be introduced to the celebrated and

trouble the public with my idleness, to devote a tributary page to his genius, and to my sense of his merits, literary and culinary. [The cook had written a work on his science.] Carème was sent for after coffee, and was presented to me in the vestibule of the chateau by his master. He was a well-bred gentleman, perfectly free from pedantry; and when we had mutually complimented each other on our various works, he bowed himself out, and got into his carriage, which was waiting to take him to Paris."

This extract forms the climax of our article. It is impossible for us, by any further remarks or quotations, to place cooks and cookery in a more elevated light than has been here done by Lady Morgan, who has shown herself truly worthy of her great subject. So we leave the illustrious Carème to command the "aids of his staff," to loll in "his carriage," and to enjoy his box at the opera," believing him to be, beyond question, superlatively worthy of all these luxuries. For the straggling character, generally, of these our anecdotes, the reader must pardon us, for we really had no other object in view at the outset than to string together a few such loose illustrations of "man as a cooking animal." We have merely to remark in conclusion, that that definition of man applies universally. All men cook, and enjoy cookery the poor, as well as the employers of Udes and Carèmes. We never shall forget the earnestness and gusto with which an ancient shoemaker once on a time gave utterance to the following saying. He had married a woman who had long been cook in a wealthy family, and was asked by a friend soon after the nuptials how he was pleased with his spouse. "Eh, man," says he in reply, "she is a prime ane! Dashit, I believe she could make a stew out o' bend-leather, and a hashie out o' insoles!"

TRAITS OF LONGEVITY. THERE are certain constitutions formed by nature so robust, with all the animal organs so perfect, that they endure to a great age, even in defiance of all rules of regimen. They can bear both excess and privation. A mode of living that would be too rich and stimulating for ordinary frames, only conduces to their perfect health and vigour, while out of poor materials their vigorous digestion can concoct a wholesome nourish ment, on which weaker stomachs would be thrown into disease and atrophy. It does not follow from this, however, that a strict regimen is useless, or that excess to the generality of men is not highly injurious. A happily constituted temperament may be independent of rules, and may resist the effects of their infringement; while, on the other hand, the observance of rules of sobriety and moderation will have a decided and wonderful effect on those constitutions in which there are such weaknesses as produce the tendency to disease. Generally speaking, too, it will be found that the most perfect temperaments are less disposed to excess or irregularities than feebler ones. There is a happy condition of animal existence in which the enjoyment of health, of simple fare, and of the free air of heaven, are all the stimulants necessary, while a craving for undue excitement is too frequently the characteristic of an irregular physical as well as men

tal constitution.

The effect of regimen on health and longevity is no where more strikingly exhibited than in the celebrated example of Cornaro. Previous to detailing this case, however, it must be remarked, that Cornaro's constitution appears to have been naturally of a peculiar kind, so that the strict regimen which he practised is not intended to be held up as a model for all ordinary livers; his case affords, however, an instructive example of the effects of diet and regimen, both on the body and the mind, and in this view cannot be too frequently appealed to.

Lewis Cornaro was of a noble Venetian family, and was born about the middle of the fifteenth century. He appears originally to have been of an ardent, sanguine disposition, fond of pleasure and enjoyment, and of excitable passions. This temperament overhurried him into a career of dissipation and sensual enjoyment, which he pursued till his thirty-fifth year. About this period his constitution gave way; pains in his sides and stomach tormented him; symptoms of gout made their appearance, with irregular appetite, thirst, and a slow consuming fever. In this wretched condition he struggled on for some time, trying the effect of medicines without any benefit, while his constitution sank more and more, till at last his physicians declared that nothing could rescue him but a total change of his mode of life, and a rigid restriction of his diet and regimen. Cornaro had sufficient strength of mind, and firmness of purpose, at last to adopt this advice; he restricted his diet to the simplest fare, and took of this a very moderate allowance-renounced his irregular dissipated life-avoided excess of heat, cold, and extraordinary fatigue-took timely repose-and, in short, observed a strict and proper regimen. In a very short time he was astonished at the beneficial change which took place in his system, and in less than a year he found his health completely restored. He ever after most rigidly adhered to his spare diet, which amounted to twelve ounces in all daily, and consisted of bread, meat of the simplest kind, yolk of egg, and soup, with fourteen ounces of a mild wine. On this allowance he enjoyed perfect bodily health and vigour, and a freedom from all physical ailments. His mind, too, seemed to share in the beneficial regimen. His passions became less irritable his spirits

more buoyant, and his judgment more cool and considerate. Not only did this regimen procure him the enjoyment of excellent health, but on two trying occasions it enabled him to sustain disasters which have proved fatal to many others. While a grievous and protracted lawsuit was carried on against him by powerful rivals, by which his patrimonial estate was imminently endangered, joined to the chagrin of being deprived of his nobility through the bad conduct of some of his relations, he remained cool and undisturbed till an honourable decision at last was given in his favour, whereas his brother and some other relations sank under the persecution and died. On another occasion, he was thrown from his carriage, and besides being much bruised, had his leg and arm dislocated. The most serious apprehensions for his life were entertained by his friends and physicians, and the most active treatment was urged upon him; but, confident in his own constitution, he would not even allow bleeding, or other evacuations, and by the most simple means recovered in a very short time.

66

Moreover, it is known in what manner I pass my time so as not to find life a burthen, seeing I can contrive to spend every hour of it with the greatest delight and pleasure, having frequent opportunities of conversing with many honourable gentlemen. Then, when I cannot enjoy their conversation, I betake myself to the reading of some good book. When I have read as much as I like, I write, endeavouring in this as in every thing else to be of service to others to the utmost of my power.

At the same seasons every year I revisit some of the neighbouring cities, and see such of my friends as live there, taking the greatest pleasure in their company and conversation, and by their means I also enjoy the conversation of other men of parts who live in the same place, such as architects, painters, sculptors, musicians, and husbandmen. But what delights me most in these journies, is the contemplation of the scenery and other beauties of the places I pass through." At the age of seventy-eight, in compliance with the entreaties of his friends, he increased his allowance both of solid and liquid food by the addition of four ounces daily; even this slight change he found had such an effect upon him, that in eight days, from his usual cheerful active habits, he became peevish and melancholy, so that nothing could please him, and he was so strangely disposed, that he knew not what to say to others, or what to do with himself. On the twelfth day he was attacked with a most violent pain in the side, which continued for many hours, and was succeeded by a fever, which did not leave him for a month, rendering him restless and sleepless, and reducing him to a mere skeleton. After this he attempted no further change in his usual diet, and enjoyed uninterrupted good health till his death. Although he married early, he was pretty far advanced in years before a child was born to him. His anxious wish for a successor to his ample possessions was at last realised in the birth of a daughter. This, his only child, he lived to see become a matron, and die mother of eight sons and three daughters. It is delightful to read in the treatises which he has left to posterity the manner in which he passed his old age. He seems to have been one of those few beings especially favoured by heaven, and by his practice so worthy of its favour, as if in order to show to frail mortals what a beautiful thing a good life is even on this earth. Born in a genial climate, the possessor of an ample estate, of an active firm mind and cheerful temperament, a lover of his country, of his species, and of his God-rescued from a career of sinful folly, he had his life extended to one hundred years, and spent an active existence in the improvement of his estate, in services of the community, in the pleasures of literature, and in the bosom of his family-an old man, vigorous, cheerful, and playful to the last, among a happy group of playful grandchildren.

With all the excusable garrulity of an octogenarian, he thus tells us of his habits. "I will now give an account of my recreations, and the relish which I find at this stage of life, in order to convince the public that the state I have now attained to is by no means death, but real life; such a life as by many is deemed happy, since it abounds with all the happiness which can be enjoyed in this world. And this testimony they will give in the first place, because they see, and not without the greatest amazement, the good state of health and spirits which I enjoy-how I mount my horse without any assistance or advantage of situation, and how I not only ascend a single flight of stairs, but climb up a hill from bottom to top. Then how gay, pleasant, and good-humoured I am!-how free from every perturbation of mind, and every disagreeable thought!—the plains, the hills, the rivers, and fountains, amid which are situated many fine houses and gardens. Nor am I prevented from these enjoyments by any decay of my senses; they being all, thank God, in their highest perfection, particularly my palate, which now relishes better the simple fare I eat wherever I may be, than it formerly did the most delicate dishes when I led an irregular life.”

But his enjoyments are not all personal or selfish; he enters warmly into the agricultural improvements of his country-the draining of marshes, and the melioration of the soil; and looks with anxious solicitude to the completion of extensive improvements of the port, as likely to contribute to the commercial welfare of the state, of whose interests he speaks with all the warmth and ardour of a true patriot.

Like all benignant characters, the playful innocence of youth had peculiar charms for him. He thus introduces us into his domestic evening circle :-"That no comfort might be wanting to the fulness of my years, whereby my great age may be rendered lesi irksome, or rather the number of my enjoyments increased, I have the additional comfort of seeing a kind of immortality in a succession of descendants; for as often as I return home, I find there before me, not one or two, but eleven grandchildren, the oldest of them eighteen, and the youngest two; all the offspring of one father and one mother-all blessed with the best of health-and, by what as yet appears, fond of learning, and of good parts and morals. Some of the youngest I always play with; and, indeed, children from three to five are only fit for play. Those above that age I make companions of; and as nature has bestowed very fine voices upon them, I amuse myself besides with seeing and hearing them sing and play on various instruments. Nay, I sing myself, as I have a better voice now, and a clearer and louder pipe, than at any other period of life. Such are the recreations of my old age."

Thus the good old man continued to enjoy life til! he passed his hundredth year. He slept away without disease, or pain, or agony, in the spring of 1566.

The history of John Macalpin, a Highland drover, will form a good companion to that of Cornaro, as illustrative of the effects of temperance under a severer climate, and in a different station of life from that of

the noble Italian.

John Macalpin was a native of Jura, one of the Hebridian islands. He lived to the age of 119 years, and retained all his faculties till his death, which took place in the year 1745. When a boy, he was rather of slow growth, and was affected with boils and eruptions of the skin. His father died and left him in comfortable circumstances at the age of eighteen. For some years the nature of his business led him into dissipated company, where he was accustomed to drink hard, sit up late, and lead an irregular life. This he continued till he was about twenty-four years of age, when, in leaping out of a boat, he fell, and struck his foot against the ground. The contusion degenerated into an ulcer, which continued, under neglect or bad treatment, to increase før two years. During this period he paid no regard to his diet, eating salt meat, fish, or any thing that came in the way, and drinking frequently to excess. The consequence was, that his constitution gave way, and the ulcer continued to increase. A medical friend to whom he applied, in order to compel him to give over his habits of life, took him to live at his house during the period of cure; and by enforcing a strict regimen to his patient, brought about a complete cure in the course of three months. Macalpin, on his return home, was so impressed with the beneficent effects ef temperance, both for his comfort and health, that he ever afterwards practised it, and in consequence enjoyed uninterrupted good health for the remainder of his long life. As illustrative of local manners, it may not be uninteresting to give a detail of his mode of living.

It was the custom at that time over all the Highlands, and especially among the common people of the isles, to make but two meals a-day. They breakfasted about nine or ten in the morning, and supped about six or seven; this last being the principal meal. Macalpin followed this custom; he went to bed with the sun, and rose with the lark. If he went out as soon as he got up, and the morning appeared foggy, he generally ate a mouthful of bread, and no more till breakfast time. His constant breakfast was bread, butter, and cheese, or eggs, with gruel made of half water half milk. His supper was fish or flesh, for the most part boiled. The flesh was boiled with greens or roots, the soup of which was thickened with a little oatmeal, which he drank plentifully. His fish were generally boiled in as much water as simply covered them; this water was thickened into a soup with a little meal and milk, and eaten along with all white fish. His general rule was to rise from table with an appetite to eat more, and the liquids he used were always at least four times the quantity of the solids. If he used harder exercise at one time than another, he ate a little more than usual; but at no time did he go to excess, or eat of but one sort of food at a meal. He never drank water till it was previously boiled, and poured over a toast of bread or a little oatmeal, and afterwards allowed to cool. This he used for his constant drink between meals. His bread was for the most part made of barley meal, but he also ate oat cake when the others could not be procured. He never indulged in fermented liquors of any kind, except on two occasions during the year, and these were at the terms of Whitsunday and Martinmas, when he went to pay his rent to the landlord, and then only very sparingly. Drams he forswore but if obliged to be long in the cold, or exposed to wet, he took the yolk of an egg, a little honey, and a glass of whisky mixed together, and drank it off; but this was only done on very rare occasions. He used no snuff or tobacco in any shape. He took a great deal of exercise, was of an active, cheerful, and intelligent mind, free from passion, but, when roused, was by no means devoid of proper manly courage. In general, his manner was mild and forbearing, and free of the irascibility of an excited temperament.

If at any time he felt his system in the least deranged, he had recourse to abstinence, and the pro

« ZurückWeiter »