Читать книгу: «The International Monthly, Volume 3, No. 1, April, 1851», страница 20

A SUPPLY OF COCKED HATS

In new work entitled A Voyage to the Mauritius and Back, just published in London, we find the following capital story, from which it is apparent that the Chatham-street auction system, even if indigenous, is not peculiar to New-York. The subject of the joke was an Indian officer at the Cape, on leave of absence, and an inmate of the boarding-house where the writer was living.

"The most singular character which Cape Town presented was a Major Holder, of the Bombay Army. In dress he was entirely unique. He wore invariably a short red shell jacket, thrown open, with a white waistcoat, and short but large white trousers, cotton stockings, and shoes; on his head a cocked-hat, with an upright red and white feather, the whole surmounted by a green silk umbrella, held painfully aloft to clear the feather: to this may be added a shirt-collar which acted almost as a pair of blinders on either side. In person he was ample, but somewhat shapeless; and he had a vast oblong face, which neither laughed nor showed any sign of animation whatever. The history of the Major's cocked-hat was as follows. Strolling into an auction at Bombay, he was rather taken with the reasonable price of a cocked-hat, which the flippant auctioneer was recommending with all his ingenuity. 'Going for six rupees—must be sold to pay the creditors. No advance upon six? Shall we say siccas?' In an evil hour the Major bid for the hat, left his address, and returned to his quarters, the happy possessor of a 'bargain.' Seated at breakfast the next morning, a procession is observed approaching the house; four men carrying a large packing-case slung to a pole, and headed by a half-caste, with a small paper in his hand.

"'Major Holder, sar, brought you the cocked-hats, sir; all sound and good, sar; wish live long to wear out, sar. Here leel' bill, which feel obleege you pay, sar.' Whereupon he puts into the hands of the astounded commander a document, headed 'Major Thomas Holder, of H.E.I.C.'s – Regt., Dr. to estate of – and Co., bankrupts, for seventy-two cocked-hats, purchased at auction,' &c., &c., &c.

"It was in vain that the Major remonstrated after he understood the predicament in which he was placed; in vain he appealed to the auctioneer—to the company present; it was too good a joke, and they would have given it against him under almost any circumstances.

"Major Holder was a rigid economist; he had almost a mind which admitted but one idea at a time, and, indeed, not very often that. He was possessed of six dozen of cocked-hats, and they must be worn out. Being mostly in command of his own regiment, he had unlimited choice as to his own head-dress; so he commenced the task at once. From thenceforth all other hats or caps were to him matters of history. At the economical rate of two hats a year, he might safely calculate upon being much advanced in life before the case was exhausted. True, there were drawbacks: he was much consulted about auctions by his friends; many inquiries made of him on that point; bills of auction, and especially any thing relating to cocked-hats, forwarded to him by the kind attention of acquaintance; and a question very currently put to him by the ensigns was 'Tom, how are you off for hats?'

"The interest taken in the Major's hats was far from dying, even after the lapse of years: the less likely to do so, indeed, from the circumstance of their forming epochs in history; as, 'Such a one got leave in Tom's fourth hat;' or, 'I hope to be off before Tom changes his hat;' or, 'I'll make you a bet that Jack's married before another hat's gone.' When this individual arrived at the Cape he was understood to be in his fifteenth hat: but there occurred some confusion in the Major's chronology; for it was understood that, owing to the practical jokes played there, no less than three hats were expended during the short month of his stay. To correct this, he adopted the plan of sitting upon his hat at dinner; but as he wore no tails to his jacket, and left the feather protruding behind, it had to a stranger the appearance of being a natural appendage to his person."

BUYING DONKEYS AT SMITHFIELD

One of the brothers Mayhew is publishing in London, (and the Harpers are reprinting it in New-York) a serial work under the title of London Labor and London Poor, similar in design to the sketches of trades and occupations a year or two ago printed in the Tribune. It is in as lively a vein as may be, but such an anatomy is unavoidably sometimes repulsive. The authors perhaps endanger the designed effect of their performance by attempting to invest it with the attractions of quaintness and humor. We quote from the second part the following description of coster-mongers in the Smithfield market:

"The donkeys standing for sale are ranged in a long line on both sides of the race course, their white velvety noses resting on the wooden rail they are tied to. Many of them wear their blinkers and head-harness, and others are ornamented with ribands fastened in their halters. The lookers-on lean against this railing, and chat with the boys at the donkeys' heads, or with the men who stand behind them, and keep continually hitting and shouting at the poor still beasts, to make them prance. Sometimes a party of two or three will be seen closely examining one of these 'Jerusalem ponies,' passing their hands down his legs or quietly looking on, while the proprietor's ash stick descends on the patient brute's back, making a dull hollow sound. As you walk in front of a long line of donkeys, the lads seize the animals by their nostrils and show their large teeth, asking if you 'want a hass, sir,' and all warranting the creature to be 'five years old next buff-day.' Dealers are quarrelling among themselves, down-crying each other's goods. 'A hearty man,' shouted one proprietor, pointing to his rival's stock, 'could eat three sich donkeys as yourn at a meal!' One fellow, standing behind his steed, shouts as he strikes, 'Here's the real Britannia metal;' whilst another asks, 'Who's for the pride of the market?' and then proceeds to flip 'the pride' with the whip till she clears away the mob with her kickings. Here, standing by its mother, will be a shaggy little colt, with a group of ragged boys fondling it and lifting it in their arms from the ground.

"During all this the shouts of the drivers and runners fill the air, as they rush past each other on the race course. Now a tall fellow, dragging a donkey after him, runs by, crying, as he charges in amongst the mob, 'Hulloa! hulloa! Hi! hi!' his mate, with his long coat-tails flying in the wind, hurrying after him and roaring, between his blows, 'Keem up!'"

From the Leader.
TO LAYARD, DISCOVERER OF BABYLON AND NINEVEH

 
No harps, no choral voices, may enforce,
The words I utter. Thebes and Elis heard
Those harps, those voices, whence high men rose higher;
And nations crowned the singer who crowned them.
His days are over. Better men than his
Live among us: and must they live unsung
Because deaf ears flap round them? or because
Gold lies along the shallows of the world,
And vile hands gather it? My song shall rise,
Although none heed or hear it: rise it shall,
And swell along the wastes of Nineveh
And Babylon, until it reach to thee,
Layard! who raisest cities from the dust,
Who driest Lethe up amid her shades,
And pourest a fresh stream on arid sands,
And rescuest thrones and nations, fanes and gods,
From conquering Time: he sees thee, and turns back.
The weak and slow Power pushes past the wise,
And lifts them up in triumph to her ear:
They, to keep firm the seat, sit with flat palms
Upon the cushion, nor look once beyond
To cheer thee on thy road. In vain are won
The spoils; another carries them away;
The stranger seeks them in another land,
Torn piecemeal from thee. But no stealthy step
Can intercept thy glory.
Cyrus raised
His head on ruins: he of Macedon
Crumbled them, with their dreamer, into dust:
God gave thee power above them, far above;
Power to raise up those whom they overthrew,
Power to show mortals that the kings they serve
Swallow each other, like the shapeless forms,
And unsubstantial, which pursue pursued
In every drop of water, and devour
Devoured, perpetual round the crystal globe.¹⁹
 

Walter Savage Landor.

From Household Words.
PHYSIOLOGY OF INTEMPERANCE

"One glass more," exclaimed mine host of the Garter. "A bumper at parting! No true knight ever went away without 'the stirrup-cup.'"

"Good," cried a merry-faced guest; "but the Age of Chivalry is gone, and that of water-drinkers and teetotallers has succeeded. Temperance societies have been imported from America, and grog nearly thrown overboard by the British Navy."

"Very properly so," observed a Clergyman who sat at the table. "The accidents which occur from drunkenness on board ship may be so disastrous on the high seas, and the punishment necessary to suppress this vice is so revolting, that the most experienced naval officers have recommended the allowance of grog, served both to officers and men in our Navy, to be reduced one-half. In America, as well as in our own Merchant Service, vessels sail out of harbor on the Temperance principle; not a particle of spirits is allowed on board; and the men throughout the voyage are reported to continue healthy and able-bodied. Tea is an excellent substitute; many of our old seamen prefer it to grog."

"That may be," exclaimed the merry-faced guest. "Horses have been brought to eat oysters; and on the Coromandel coast, Bishop Heber says, they get fat when fed on fish. Sheep have been trained up, during a voyage, to eat animal food, and refused, when put ashore, to crop the dewy greensward. When honest Jack renounces his grog, and, after reefing topsails in a gale of wind, goes below deck to swill down a domestic dish of tea, after the fashion of Dr. Samuel Johnson at Mrs. Thrale's, I greatly fear the character of our British seamen will degenerate. In the glorious days of Lord Nelson, the observation almost passed into a proverb, that the man who loved his grog always made the best sailor. Besides, in rough and stormy weather, when men have perhaps been splicing the mainbrace, and exposed to the midnight cold and damp, the stimulus of grog is surely necessary to support, if not restore, the vital energy?"

"Not in the least," rejoined the clergyman. "Severe labor, even at sea, is better sustained without alcoholic liquors; and the depressing effects of exposure to cold and wet weather best counteracted by a hot mess of cocoa or coffee served with biscuit or the usual allowance of meat. In fact, I have lately read, with considerable satisfaction, a prize essay by an accomplished physician, in which he proves that alcohol acts as a poison on the nervous system, and that we can dispense entirely with the use of stimulants."

"Not exactly so," observed a physician, who was of the party. "Life itself exists only by stimulation; the air we breathe, the food we eat, the desires and emotions which excite the mind to activity, are all so many forms of physical and mental stimuli. If the atmosphere were deprived of its oxygen, the blood would cease to acquire those stimulating properties which excite the action of the heart, and sustain the circulation; and if the daily food of men were deprived of certain necessary stimulating adjuncts, the digestive organs would no longer recruit the strength, and the wear and tear of the body. Nay, strange as it may appear, that common article in domestic cookery, salt, is a natural and universal stimulant to the digestive organs of all warm-blooded animals. This is strikingly exemplified by the fact, that animals, in their wild state, will traverse, instinctively, immense tracts of country in pursuit of it; for example, to the salt-pans of Africa and America; and it is a curious circumstance that one of the ill effects produced by withholding this stimulant from the human body is the generation of worms. The ancient laws of Holland condemned men, as a severe punishment, to be fed on bread unmixed with salt; and the effect was horrible; for these wretched criminals are reported to have been devoured by worms, engendered in their own stomach. Now, I look upon alcohol to be, under certain circumstances, as healthful and proper a stimulant to the digestive organs as salt, when taken in moderation, whether in the form of malt liquor, wine, or spirits and water. When taken to excess, it may act upon the nervous system as a poison; but the most harmless solids or fluids may, by being taken to excess, be rendered poisonous. Indeed, it has been truly observed, that 'medicines differ from poisons, only in their doses.' Alcoholic stimulants, artificially and excessively imbibed, are, doubtless, deleterious."

"The subject," observed the host, filling his glass, and passing the bottle, "is a curious one. The port before us, at all events, is not poison, and I confess, that so ignorant am I of these matters, that I would like to know something about this alcohol which is so much spoken of."

"The explanation is not difficult," answered the Doctor. "Alcohol is simply derived by fermentation, or distillation, from substances or fluids containing sugar; in other words, the matter of sugar, when subjected to a certain temperature, undergoes a change, and the elements of which the sugar was previously composed enter into a new combination, which constitutes the fluid named Alcohol, or Spirits of Wine. Raymand Lully, the alchemist, (thirteenth century,) is said to have given it the name of Alcohol; but the art of obtaining it was, in that age of darkness and superstition, kept a profound mystery. When it became more known, physicians prescribed it only as a medicine, and imagined that it had the important property of prolonging life, upon which account they designated it 'Aqua Vitæ,' or the 'Water of life,' and the French, to this day, call their Cognac 'Eau de Vie.'"

"It is a remarkable circumstance," observed the Clergyman, filling his glass, "that there is hardly any nation, however rude and destitute of invention, that has not succeeded in discovering some composition of an intoxicating nature; and it would appear, that nearly all the herbs, and roots, and fruits on the face of the earth have been, in some way or other, sacrificed on the shrine of Bacchus. All the different grains destined for the support of man; corn of every description; esculent roots, potatoes, carrots, turnips; grass itself, as in Kamtschatka; apples, pears, cherries, and even the delicious juice of the peach, have been pressed into this service; nay, so inexhaustible appear to be the resources of art, that a vinous spirit has been obtained by distillation from milk itself."

"Milk!" cried the merry-faced guest. "Can alcohol be obtained from mother's milk?"

"Very probably," continued the Clergyman. "The Tartars and Calmucks obtain a vinous spirit from the distillation of mares' and cows' milk; and, as far as I can recollect, the process consists in allowing the milk first to remain in untanned skins, sewed together, until it sours and thickens. This they agitate until a thick cream appears on the surface, which they give to their guests, and then, from the skimmed milk that remains, they draw off the spirits."

"Exactly so," observed the Doctor, "but it is worthy of notice, that a Russian chemist discovered that if this milk were deprived of its butter and cheese, the whey, although it contains the whole of the sugar of milk, will not undergo vinous fermentation."

"These facts," observed the host, "are interesting, but they are more curious than useful. The alcohol, I presume, from whatever source it be derived, is chemically the same thing; how, then, does it happen that some wines, containing precisely the same quantity of alcohol, intoxicate more speedily than others?"

"The reason," explained the Doctor, "is simply this. We must regard all wines, even the very wine we are drinking, not as a simple mixture, but as a compound holding the matter of sugar, mucilaginous, and extractive principles contained in the grape juice, in intimate combination with the alcohol. Accordingly, the more quickly the real spirit is set free from this combination, the more rapidly are intoxicating effects produced; and this is the reason why wines containing the same quantity of alcohol have different intoxicating powers. Thus, champagne intoxicates very quickly. Now this wine contains comparatively only a small quantity of alcohol; but this escapes from the froth, or bubbles of carbonic acid gas, as it reaches the surface, carrying along with it all the aroma which is so agreeable to the taste. The liquor in the glass then becomes vapid. This has been clearly proved. The froth of champagne has been collected under a glass bell, and condensed by surrounding the vessel with ice; the alcohol has then been found condensed within the glass. The object, therefore, of icing champagne—or rather, the effect produced by this operation—is to repress its tendency to effervesce, whereby a smaller quantity of alcohol is taken with each glass. Wines containing the same quantity of alcohol accordingly differ in their effects; nay, it is not to the alcohol only they contain that certain obnoxious effects are to be attributed, for, as Dr. Paris clearly shows, when they contain an excess of certain acids, a suppressed fermentation takes place in the stomach itself, which will cause flatulency and a great variety of unpleasant symptoms. In fact, a fluid load remains in the stomach, to undergo a slow and painful form of digestion."

"But, in whatever shape you introduce it," remarked the host, "whether disguised as wine, or in the form of brandy, whiskey, or gin-and-water, it matters not—I wish to have a clear idea of the immediate effects of alcohol upon the living system."

"Well!" said the Doctor, "it can very easily be described. When you swallow a glass—let us say of brandy-and-water—the stimulating liquid, upon entering into the stomach, excites the blood-vessels and nerves of its internal lining coat, which causes an increased flow of blood and nervous energy to this part. The consequence is, that the internal membrane of the stomach becomes highly reddened and injected, just as if inflammation had already been produced by the presence of the stimulant. Thus far you probably follow me:—but this is not all—the vessels thus excited have an absorbing power; they suck up (as it were) and carry directly into the stream of the circulation a portion (at all events) of the alcohol which thus irritates them. The result is, that alcohol is thus mixed with the blood and brought into immediate contact with the minute structure of all the different organs of the body."

"But how," asked the merry-faced guest, "can this be known? Who ever saw into the stomach of a living man?"

"Strange as it may appear to you, that has been done, and all the circumstances connected with the digestion of solids and fluids in the stomach have been very accurately observed. It happened, in the year 1822, that a young Canadian, named Alexis St. Martin, was accidentally wounded by the discharge of a musket, which carried away a portion of his ribs, perforating and exposing the interior of the stomach. After the poor fellow had undergone much suffering, all the injured parts became sound, excepting the perforation into the stomach, which remained some two and a half inches in circumference; and upon this unfortunate individual his physician, Dr. Beaumont, when he was sufficiently well, made a series of very careful observations, which have determined a great variety of important points connected with the physiology of digestion. Fluids introduced into the stomach rapidly disappeared, being taken up by these vessels and carried into the system. We cannot, therefore, be surprised to hear that so subtile and penetrating a fluid as alcohol should very speedily find its way into all the tissues of the body. Its presence may be smelt in the breath of persons addicted to spirituous liquors, as well as in their secretions generally."

"But to what do you attribute the noxious effects of alcohol, allowing it to be thus carried by direct absorption into the circulation?" asked the host.

"To the excess of carbon," answered the Doctor, "which is thus introduced into the system; and explains why the liver, in hard drinkers, is generally found diseased."

"How so?" inquired the host. "I have heard of the 'gin liver.'"

"It is well known that a long residence in India," interposed the Clergyman, "will give rise to enlargement and induration of this organ."

"And for the same reason," answered the Doctor, "the liver acts as a substitute for the lungs—just as the skin acts vicariously for the kidneys."

"Not a word of this do I understand," said the merry-faced guest.

"Well, then," continued the Doctor, "I will endeavor to explain it. By a wonderful provision of nature, which appears to come under the law of compensation, when one organ, by reason of decay, is unable to perform its functions, another undertakes its functions, and, to a certain extent, supplies its place. You all know that blind people acquire a preternatural delicacy in the sense of touch, which did not escape the philosophical observation of Wordsworth, who speaks of

 
"A watchful heart,
Still couchant—an inevitable ear;
And an eye practised like the blind man's touch."
 

"Now, it is the office of the vessels of the skin to throw off by perspiration the watery parts of the blood; the kidneys do the same; and under a great variety of circumstances which must be familiar to all, these organs frequently act vicariously for one another. The office of the liver, and the lungs also, is in like manner to throw off carbon from the system, and when during a residence in a tropical climate the lungs are unable, from the state of the atmosphere, to perform their functions, the liver acting vicariously for this organ is stimulated to undue activity, and becomes consequently diseased. Applying these remarks to the spirit drinker, it is obvious that the excess of carbon introduced into the system by alcohol is thrown upon the liver, and by stimulating it to undue activity produces a state of inflammation."

"This I understand," observed the Clergyman, "but how does it act upon the brain? Does the alcohol itself actually become absorbed, and enter into the substance of the brain?"

"The effect of an excess of carbon, in the blood-vessels of the brain, is to produce sleep and stupor; hence the drunkard breathes thick, and snores spasmodically, and after this state, ends in confirmed apoplexy and death—just as dogs become insensible when held over the Grotto del Cane, in Italy, where they inhale this deleterious gas. But in addition to this it has been clearly proved, that alcohol does enter into the substance of the brain, for it has been detected by the smell, upon examining the brain of persons who have died drunk; besides which, alcohol, after having been introduced by way of experiment, into the body of a living dog, has afterwards been procured absolutely as alcohol by distillation from the substance of the brain. It is so subtile a fluid that Liebig says it permeates every tissue of the body."

"But how do you explain the circumstance that death sometimes happens suddenly after drinking spirits," asked the host, "before there can be time for absorption to take place?"

"I remember, not many years ago," interrupted the merry-faced guest, "a water-man, in attendance at the cab-stand at the top of the Haymarket, for a bribe of five shillings, tossed off a bottle of gin, upon which he dropped down insensible, and soon died."

"This may clearly be accounted for," observed the Doctor. "The stomach, as I premised, is plentifully supplied with nerves, and is connected with one of the great nervous centres in the body, so that a sudden impression produced upon these nerves, by the introduction of a quantity of such stimulus, gives a shock to the whole nervous system, which completely overpowers it. From the centre to the circumference it acts like a stroke of lightning, and the death is often instantaneous. A draught of iced water taken when the system has been overheated by exertion, by dancing or otherwise, has been known to be immediately fatal. The physiological action—or rather the 'shock' upon the nervous system, is in both cases the same—violent mental emotion will in like manner suspend the action of the heart and produce instant death. These are the terrors of alcohol, when drank to excess; but the health of the habitual tippler is sure to be undermined; his hands become tremulous, he is unsteady in his gait, his complexion becomes sallow, and all his mental faculties gradually impaired."

"To what, may I ask," inquired the merry-faced guest, "do you attribute the circumstance of the trembling hand recovering its steadiness, after taking a glass of spirits in the morning after a debauch; 'hair of the dog,' as it is called, 'that bit overnight?'"

"Action and reaction is the great law of the animal economy," replied the Doctor; "over stimulation will always produce a corresponding degree of depression; when, therefore, the nervous system has been over-excited by alcoholic liquors, the usual amount of nervous energy which is necessary to give tone to the muscular system is wanting, and then a stimulus gives a fillip to the nervous centres, which restores the nervous powers to the extremities. When this state of things, however, has been permitted to go on, and the brain has been frequently brought under alcoholic influence, its structure becomes affected, and a slow and very insidious inflammation takes place, which terminates in a softening of its substance. This mischief may proceed for a considerable period without being suspected, but on a sudden delirium tremens may supervene, which will terminate, perhaps, in paralysis—perhaps death!"

"To what, Doctor," inquired the Clergyman, "do you attribute the mental pleasures of intoxication? Can this be explained upon physiological principles?"

"Easily, I think," answered the Doctor. "All inebriating agents have a two-fold action—as I have already pointed out—first, on the circulation; and secondly, on the nervous system. There can be no doubt that the mind becomes endowed with increased energy when the circulation through the brain is moderately quickened. This has been proved by observation. The case has been reported of a person who having lost by disease a part of the skull and its investments, a corresponding portion of brain was open to inspection. In a state of dreamless sleep the brain lay motionless within the skull; but when dreams occurred, as reported by the patient, then the quantity of blood was observed to flow with increased rapidity, causing the brain to move and protrude out of the skull. When perfectly awake, and engaged in active thought, then the blood again was sent with increased force to the brain, and the protrusion was still greater. Under all circumstances, increased circulation through the brain gives rise to mental excitement, and sometimes to an unusual lucidity of ideas. It is observed in the early stages of fever, and even in the dying—and this accounts for the clearing up of the mind which sometimes occurs in the last moments of life—what is called familiarly 'the lightening before death.'"

"That," observed the Clergyman, "is a very curious circumstance, which I firmly believe; and you account for this, if I understand your meaning, by explaining that the blood which no longer circulates in the extremities, which may have become cold, flows with increased impetus through the brain."

"Exactly so," replied the Doctor; "and upon this very principle, the rapidity of ideas, and the pleasurable mental excitement attending that temporary state of intellectual exaltation, depends on the increased rapidity of the flow of blood through the brain; but when this becomes carried to too great an extent, and the rapidity of the current disturbs the healthy condition of the brain, then the manifestations of the mind necessarily become impaired, the ideas are no longer under the control of the reasoning faculty, and the bodily organs, usually under the dominion of the will, no longer obey its mandates. This I believe to be the true theory of mental intoxication."

"But there are many circumstances," observed the host, "which may accelerate or retard this excitement."

"Certainly," continued the Doctor; "persons who join the social board already elated with some good news, or cause of unusual happiness; persons who talk much, and excite themselves in argument, are apt to become affected more speedily than those who hold themselves in the midst of the convivial scene sedate and taciturn. The mind, in fact, may exercise a considerable power of resistance against inebriation; for which reason, persons in the society of their superiors, under circumstances which render it necessary they should maintain the appearance of being always well conducted, drink with impunity more than they otherwise could, if they did not impose upon themselves this consciousness of self-government. We also observe the influence of the mind, in controlling, and, indeed, putting an end to a fit of intoxication, by making, doubtless, an impression on the heart and causation, when a sense of danger, or a piece of good or bad news, suddenly communicated, sobers a person on a sudden."

"I have heard," observed the merry-faced guest, "that moving about—changing from one seat into another—will check the effects of liquor; and I have known persons who have left a social party perfectly sober, become suddenly tipsy in the open air. How is this to be explained?"

"Precisely on the same principle," answered the Doctor, "upon leaving an overheated room, on your returning homewards, you expose yourself to an atmosphere many degrees below that you have just left. The cold checks the circulation on the surface of the body; the blood is driven inwards; it accumulates, consequently, in the internal organs; and sometimes its pressure is such on the brain, as to produce on a sudden the very last stage of intoxication. The limbs refuse to support their burthen, and the person falls down in a state of profound insensibility."