limited part is employed in creating the means of actual subsistence,
a very considerable portion may always be abstracted for purposes
of attack or defence. It is usually calculated, that one-fifth part
of the inhabitants of every country is capable of bearing arms. On
this calculation, Great Britain contains four millions of fighting
men, of whom it is believed one million might be formed into an army
without any very serious interruption to the essential operations
of agriculture and commerce. This supposition may seem a little
extravagant, but it must be recollected that, at one period during
the late war, the number of men under arms was actually calculated at
seven hundred and fifty thousand.
In the second place, such a state of things is favourable to public
liberty. The congregation of men in great masses is found to give
great force to the influence of public opinion; by the spirit of
discussion which it generates; by the anxiety for intelligence which
it diffuses; by the collisions of opinion which it engenders, and by
the facility of union which it affords. Nations purely or principally
agricultural are generally under a despotic government, especially
large states, for the maxim of _divide et impera_ is applicable as
well to internal as to external politics. Ancient Persia and Assyria,
and modern Russia and Poland, are instances in point. The fierce
and demoralizing tyranny of the feudal system, which, after [p289]
the destruction of the Roman monarchy, left scarcely any other
division of the people than those of tyrant and vassal, could only
be effectually broken by the rise of great towns. These communities
were alone competent to resist the aristocratical and subordinate
despotisms into which all the nations of Europe were subdivided, and
which, as is well known, overawed the throne, whilst they enslaved
the people. In confirmation of this, it may be remarked, that the
free republics of antiquity, as well as those of the middle ages,
derived the spirit which nurtured them almost entirely from the
capital city; and though, in the former case, there was scarcely
any commerce to excite the activity of the people, yet the mere
congregation of a numerous body of men sustained the power of public
opinion.
But the most important question remains behind. Is a civil community
thus constituted favourable to individual virtue and happiness?
This is assuredly the point which it most behoves us to ascertain,
since no truism is more obvious than that power and opulence, and
refinement and splendour, and even liberty itself, are only so far
valuable as they tend to make men wiser, and better, and happier.
Is it true, then, that Great Britain has anteceded other nations in
these fundamental points, as much as in those we have just described?
This question cannot be answered without some hesitation: for we may
say, with Addison’s facetious Knight, “that a great deal may be urged
on both sides.” On the one hand it is certain that our situation is
eminently favourable to intellectual improvement. The increasing
spread of instruction, and the rapid advancement of knowledge which
are necessarily concurrent with our career of prosperity, must
ultimately advance us in the scale of moral and rational agents. If
knowledge be power, it is also happiness; for communities as well as
individuals would all be happy if they knew how to be so. It is also
certain that the incessant struggles of competition and the strenuous
efforts for distinction which are always at work in an over-peopled
and highly refined country are favourable to the active virtues.
They operate amongst the higher classes to provide many objects of
laudable ambition; and amongst the lower, afford perpetual facilities
for bettering their condition, [p290] and furnish an incessant
supply of occupation, the want of which is sure to open the door to
the incursion of all the worst propensities and basest vices. They
bring into action all the resources of human ingenuity; all the
aids of fortitude and enterprise; all the trials of patience and
perseverance; all the equanimity demanded by the constant mutations
and rotations of fortune. It is not to be denied, moreover, that the
first-rate virtues of beneficence, charity, and hospitality, take
root and flourish with peculiar vigour in a commercial community. The
fluctuations of condition to which almost every man knows himself
liable, and the constant proximity of distress and opulence, offer
perpetual excitements to the benevolent affections.
These, it must be confessed, are important ingredients in the
composition of human happiness; but considerations not less momentous
present themselves on the opposite side, for every thing in human
affairs is on a system of compensations. It is not to be denied
that a state of society, in which one-half of the population is
congregated in towns, and nearly a moiety of this half crowded
together in enormous factories, is highly unpropitious to virtue, to
health, and to happiness. In these huge receptacles of human labour,
it would be absurd to expect that the women should be distinguished
for their modesty and propriety, or the men for their prudence,
temperance, and regularity. It is an unhappy law of human nature,
that the force of example is most prevalent on the side of vice. A
few depraved characters scattered amongst a multitude are commonly
found sufficient to corrupt the whole mass: hence we may always
expect to find, in the seat of a great manufactory, all the worst
ingredients of civilized society; all the base depravities of a
luxurious and opulent community, combined with much of the grossness
and rudeness of the savage state: in a word, all the corruptions of
high civilization without any of its polish. Nor is this mode of
life, generally speaking, more favourable to health and comfort than
to good morals. The constitution of the young is impaired, and their
growth retarded by excessive labour and close confinement. Those of
maturer age are glad to seek relief from the depressing effects of a
wearisome and monotonous labour, unwholesome air, and constant [p291]
restraint, in intemperate indulgence; and all the long train of
vices and miseries to which the poor are liable, follows of course.
Nor are their prospects for the future often such as to encourage
hope or stimulate exertion. The habitual improvidence of the poor
is aggravated in their case by the dangerous fluctuation of their
trade. Sometimes they are eagerly courted with high wages, and lavish
promises; at others, no employment is to be had, and not enough can
be earned, even by the most unnatural exertions, to sustain their
families. Nothing can be imagined more fatal to order, regularity,
and comfort, than these vicissitudes. Hence it commonly happens,
that, in the decline of life, these poor creatures are driven to
the sad resource of parish relief. It is moreover not one of the
least evils of the manufacturing system, that it has a tendency, in
prosperous times, to generate an excessive population, which, on any
great reverse, is suddenly thrown on the community as a superfluous
burden. The changes of a fashion, the caprice of public taste, or the
sudden interruption of a foreign market, will reduce thousands to
helpless and unexpected poverty.
It must, however, be admitted, that the picture of rural life has
also its unfavourable aspect. Those who retire into the country are
apt to find themselves somewhat disappointed in their expectations
of rustic simplicity and pastoral innocence. In situations where
every breath of air, and every feature of nature express nothing but
peace and love, they are a little surprised to see the selfish and
malignant passions at work in all their baneful activity; to find, as
in the purlieus of a court, the symptoms of “envy, hatred, malice,
and all uncharitableness.” Still we shall find that instances of
utter depravity and abandoned profligacy are of much rarer occurrence
than in great towns. In a village, every individual is known, and the
very consciousness of being conspicuous, creates a sense of shame
which is highly salutary. It has often been observed, that men in a
body will commit, and even justify, atrocities which no individual
amongst them would be capable of attempting, if not screened by the
shelter of a crowd. We find, accordingly, in the annals of Wesley
and Whitfield, that the great scenes of their operations are in
collieries, factories, [p292] mines, canals, and all the other
appendages of a great commercial and manufacturing nation. It was
there, according to Whitfield, that the “Arch Enemy” raised his
triumphant standard; it was there, that the harvest of lost souls was
ripe and abundant. But the most decisive proof of the comparative
purity of the rural population above that of the manufacturing
districts, is the fact that the single town of Manchester will
furnish ten times more criminal prosecutions than two Welch counties
which contain an equal number of inhabitants.
On the whole, I think we cannot escape the conclusion, that, though a
certain degree of commercial and manufacturing property is necessary
to stimulate the agriculture of a nation, and to call forth its
utmost powers of production, yet that it is not desirable that
this country should proceed much further in that dangerous career,
or increase still further the disproportion between its urban and
rural population. The late increase in our numbers is so rapid and
alarming, that I am afraid some positive checks (to use Mr. Malthus’s
language) of very terrible potency must soon be brought into action.
The forcible lines of Goldsmith, though that great poet knew
little enough of political economy, are applicable to the wise and
benovolent statesmen of all times—
’Tis theirs to judge, how wide the limits stand
Between a splendid and a happy land.
_On the Modern Ornaments of Architecture, &c._
In no age since the Augustan era of Rome, perhaps, has decoration
of the interior of dwellings been carried to greater excess than
at present; nor, since the days of the florid style of Gothic
architecture, has the exterior received more embellishment.
Architectural ornaments have generally been copied from the antique,
those especially which belong to the orders. Indeed there is a kind
of classical standard, which governs the architect in the execution
of public edifices, from which he cannot with propriety depart.
National, and regal emblems, wherever suitable, should always be
introduced in public buildings, and in those of a private or mixed
character [p293] all legitimate ornaments may be displayed. Of
this class the acanthus, vignette, the branches of the olive, and
leaves of the palm, the crown of laurel, the chaplet of myrtle, and
the wreath of roses, are all proper when judiciously introduced;
and the rose and honeysuckle flowers, and the folicles, trefoils,
cinquefoils, &c., which so often occur on sculpture and plaster work,
are also proper, because they are imitations of nature.
But in our present style of decorative execution, from the most
elaborate finishing of a regal palace, down to the pattern of a
milk-maid’s gown, there is such latitude taken in the display of
licentious fancy, that imagination itself is baffled to find anything
in the infinite variety of nature’s works, to which their designs can
be compared, or to which they bear the most distant resemblance!
It is really unaccountable, that the whole tribe of our artists,
the ornamental statuary, scagliolist, paper-stainer, weaver, chintz
and cotton printer, &c. should all be “straining their low thought
to form unreal” forms and figures; and striking out the most
intricate and complicated, to the utter neglect (except in very few
instances) of those numberless simple though transcendently beautiful
configurations, which everywhere appear in the works of nature.
This is surely a dereliction of all propriety, an exuberance of
grovelling taste which no consideration can excuse, nor reason
justify. In this age of refinement, good taste should be the guide
in all things where invention is necessary, and design requisite;
whatever is grotesque or fantastic, should be banished from our
labours of art, and the elegant forms of vegetable or animal nature
alone take their place.
If it be asked, how it happens that such obliquity of fancy (for
it cannot be called taste) should so generally prevail, the answer
is, were these pattern-mongers to copy from nature every body could
judge of their ability as imitators, and, if unfaithful, would decry
the artist; whereas, whilst bringing forth his nondescript and
nondescribable forms of imaginary figures, he escapes the lash of the
critic, which otherwise he would be subjected to. [p294]
It may be granted, that it is as ridiculous to form stone or plaster
flowers, as those geometrical frets and fanciful nothings which
are usually pourtrayed in architectural decoration: but it may be
answered that if any ornament be necessary, that of a nondescript
character is not more appropriate, as such, than natural forms would
be; and these latter having a name, and many of them an emblematical
character, may be often applied with a propriety which cannot belong
to the other.
The old fashioned tapestry, notwithstanding its sombre appearance,
was in its plan much more rational than the multifigurations of
our modern paper hangings. The first represented some historical
event or legendary tale, yielding some mental information, or it
taught perhaps a moral lesson—the eye was amused while tracing the
ideas of the ingenious sempstress; but in our ephemeral and gaudy
ten-thousand-times repeated _paper_ nothings, there is no design to
interest, nor combination to amuse the eye longer than a transient
glance. Even the Chinese, who, in all their decorative finishings
shew _rigidity_ itself, have escaped from tame mannerism in paper
hangings, by imitating, from the edge of the carpet to the ceiling,
all the gradations of turf, herbs, shrubs, and trees, upon a sky
ground, enriched with figures or rather portraits of flowers and
fruit, as well as beasts, birds and insects. This though it cannot
deceive the spectator for one moment in mistaking a fictitious
for a real scene, yet is certainly far superior to European
paper-upholstery, as it at least may introduce a knowledge of
natural history, which the latter has no pretension to, indeed seems
studiously to discard, as beneath imitation.
All this vitiated taste, or fashion rather, is to be regretted;
especially as it appears that those
Fancied forms which on the ceilings sprawl,
And shapeless frets which decorate the wall,
are just as expensive, and difficult of execution, as the most
elegant imitation of vegetable or animal configuration would be; and
surely when such variety of forms are presented to the artist, they
deserve to be copied as transcendently superior to the capricious
fancies of the most celebrated decorator, or of [p295] the most
splendid fashionable designs; either in the works of the sculptor,
scagliolist, &c. or the more insignificant designers of figured paper
or drapery. Indeed there can be no good reason why ox-heads and
garlands (now the days of sacrifices are past) should not be banished
from the frieze and entablature, to admit the far more appropriate
figures of foliage, fruit, and flowers, aquatic as well as
terrestrial, which every garden yields;—and for interior enrichments
of cornices, mouldings, &c., the curious and elegant forms of the
testacea, would afford beautiful copies for imitation.
In fine, if there be any merit or propriety in the adaptation of
whatever is elegant in form, beautiful in outline, harmonious
in tint and proportion, and congruous in combination, such may
readily be found in the animal and vegetable kingdoms. Faithful
representations of such objects, not only open a fine field for the
exercise of individual ability, at this time, but also a source
from which might be drawn a large share of public patronage, and
consequent commensurate reward. Indeed it is now pretty evident that
in many things, especially in the minor works of art, we have been
too long and too rigidly impressed with a veneration for the works
of antiquity, or what is equally benumbing, a passive following of
tyrant fashion; and that many a bright genius has been “nipped in
the bud,” and remained “twinkling in the socket” of Grecian and
Roman rules, who, if venturous enough to have burst the shackles of
professional thraldom, would have improved and elevated his art, as
well as himself, by designs and works which would have advanced his
profession and adorned his country.
But it is not yet too late; a knowledge and study of the genuine
elements of taste, whether of art or nature, and a mind embued with
rational perceptions of all that is beautiful and picturesque, and
grand or sublime in either, will rise superior to all precedential
fetters, as well as all modern mannerism, and will equally regard the
excellencies of the ancients, as it will avoid the errors of some
modern artists, who, in leaving the beaten track, have deviated far
and widely from the point to which good sense and good taste would
have led. [p296]
A list of plants, &c. which exemplify all that is elegant in
form, beautiful in outline and graceful in position, should have
accompanied the above imperfect remarks, but this must be deferred to
another opportunity.
J. M.
_De l’Influence des Agens Physiques sur la Vie. Par_ W. F. Edwards,
D. M., &c.
[Continued from the last Number.]
In our last number we presented our readers with a general abstract
of the first part of this valuable work. The second part refers to
animals of the _cold blood_ order, including _fish_ and _reptiles_.
The _larvæ_ of the latter underwent some comparative experiments
detailed in the first chapter, because they partake of the nature
both of _fish_ and _reptiles_, as to their _respiratory function_;
the imperfection of their intermediate state and developement of
organization not interfering with the objects in view, and the
double mode of aërification being exercised unequally. The _skin_
of these young animals furnishes them with the means of producing
the requisite changes in the blood by _absorption_, as in the
adult, while it lives in water; and the cutaneous respiration goes
on through this medium at a temperature which the subsequent more
perfect animal is unable to endure. The object entertained is the
influence of physical agents upon the changes which these animals
pass through in their form and structure.
An important condition of their advancement to maturity seems to be,
that the nutriment suspended in the water should be in very small and
limited proportions. Temperature also influences their constitutional
changes.
Sometimes the _larvæ_ pass through the winter in their primitive
state; a fact not generally known. Some _tadpoles_ were confined
within wooden boxes submersed in the river Seine, in which holes
were perforated to allow the stream to pass through, without the
possibility of the animals rising to the surface of the water, and
thus to inhale air. Others were placed in a large vessel of Seine
water renewed at intervals, with power to rise above the surface.
Ten in twelve of the first box underwent no transformation, the
others having gone partially through their change. But [p297] those
of the large vessel, and not submersed in the river, passed through
their changes of form without the least appearance of the phenomenon
being retarded. The running waters of the Seine probably contained
nutritious matter, which the water periodically renewed was more
deficient in.
Under circumstances of moderate nourishment and temperature, the
tadpoles under water did not complete their changes but in a very
partial and protracted manner, while the greater portion made no
change. The great difference in the circumstances of the experiments
seems to have been the access to the air of those which went
through their transformations as usual. Exclusion from light made
no difference in the results, and these were solely influenced by
occasional renewal of air from pulmonary respiration.
These animals possessing a double respiration, cutaneous and
pulmonic, that is, absorbing air from the water around them and
inhaling it from the atmosphere on its surface, renders these facts
highly curious. Fish possess only the means of aquatic respiration,
and the influence of temperature was tried upon them submersed in
water deprived of its air by previous boiling, the heat being varied
from 0° to 40°. The fish died quicker under these circumstances
than the frog species in the same situation; but their lives were
prolonged more in the _descent_ of the thermometer than during its
_elevation_, as also occurred with the experiments on frogs and
salamanders; and, in both cases, the younger the animal, the less it
could resist the higher temperatures. At 40° the young animals only
survived about two minutes, and the adults many more.
Fish were also submersed in closed vessels of aërated water, and, by
varying the temperature and the quantities of water, the duration
of their lives was augmented in proportion to the increased volume
of the liquid, the temperature remaining the same; but when these
experiments were conducted in open vessels, the contact with the
atmosphere altered the phenomena. At 20°, a small fish expired in
four hours; and when the temperature was lowered to 10° or 12°,
the same sort of animal lived several days; and when the water was
kept clean by being changed every twenty-four hours, the fish lived
indefinitely.
It is known that fish rise periodically to the surface of the waters
to respire; and Dr. Edwards discovered that they did so when they
have reduced the properties of the air [p298] dissolved in the water
to a lower standard than is requisite for the proper aërification of
their blood; thus renewing their supply of _oxygen_.
The functions of this class of animals have always been obscure; and
their phenomena are different from those of others. Different species
of fish die at various periods when deprived of water, some in a few
minutes, others in a few hours; and it appears that their dissolution
arises not so much from incapability of atmospheric respiration (for
the experiments of Sylvester prove that they can respire pure air),
as from the different state of the air.
Some experiments on _lizards_, _snakes_, and _turtles_ conclude the
researches among cold-blooded animals. The skins of these, like those
of the frogs and salamanders, received vivifying influence from
the air, mainly acting, in conjunction with pulmonary respiration,
to promote their existence. _Snakes_ and _turtle_, their pulmonary
respiration being insulated, from their skins being guarded from
atmospheric influence, were found alive; but the _lizards_ died
in a few hours, when the vivifying contact of the air was removed
from their bodies, and they breathed only by their mouths. Animals
naturally defended by _scales_ transpire much less than such as have
their skins free. Thus _frogs_, _toads_, and _salamanders_ yielded
more by perspiration than _lizards_, _snakes_, and _turtle_, in a
given time; and the porosity of the skin of course regulates the
facility of transpiration in all cases.
With these experiments and remarks, Dr. Edwards concludes the second
part of his researches. The third part includes _animals of warm
blood_, in which will be found some curious and interesting remarks
on the heat of young animals compared with that of adults.
Dr. Edwards refutes the common notion of young animals being
necessarily hotter than adults. The heat of young puppies was very
near that of the parent, or one or two degrees less, but this
variation was not constant. Some new-born kittens and rabbits were
also subjected to similar trials, and the results led to a conclusion
that the temperature of young animals is _less_ than that of adults.
According to these experiments, the power of resisting the cooling
influence of the air acquires force as the animal grows up; and those
examples related, in which artificial covering was adopted, show that
nudity is not the only cause of the reduction of heat, which is,
in fact, more referrible [p299] to their infantile constitution.
At first the sucking animal shows little variation from the parent
temperature; then this becomes more and more reduced, and about the
fifteenth day it is a degree or two below the mother.