Читать книгу: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 20, No. 558, July 21, 1832», страница 2

That we live upon meat, and yet increase in growth and strength is little to the point, but whether we might not be still better without it; dogs thrive upon flesh, but biscuits are better for them: that we are fond of it is still less pertinent, for who does not know that custom alters nature itself, that it becomes, in fact, a second nature, and that such things as we are accustomed to, though actually evil in their own nature, yet become gradually less offensive, and at last pleasant. We have very remarkable proofs of this in all parts of the world. In China they eat cats and dogs, while the poorer classes think rats, mice, and other vermin, no bad food. The Romans thought peacocks a dainty, which we quite nauseate. The Greenlander and the Esquimaux relish train-oil, whilst these and all savages, on first tasting our wines are disgusted and spit them out. Horse-flesh is commonly sold in the markets of the north. Then again, there are some wandering Moors, who subsist entirely on gum senegal, and there have been many cases of shipwreck where the mariners have even subsisted for weeks on old shoes, tobacco, or whatever they could get; in short, what cannot custom effect? The Turk, by constant habit, is enabled to take opium in quantities that would soon destroy us; and every one must have known private cases where individuals in this country could take laudanum in surprising doses; we have all more or less experienced the power of habit in our acquired tastes, and whether we derive pleasure from the fumes of tobacco, or approve the flavour of olives, we may remember that at first we disliked, or were indifferent about either. History itself informs us, that Mithridates was able to drink poison; and there was a female slave, sent to Alexander by King Porus, who was even brought up with it from her infancy. But to bring this influence of custom upon the taste, still more in point, we find recorded in a work upon zoology, the following remarkable case:—The provender for a lamb, which a ship's company had on board, was all consumed; in the absence of other food they offered it flesh, which it was at last compelled to devour, and gradually acquired such a relish for this new aliment, that it could never after be prevailed on to eat any thing else.

It is very certain that the most natural tastes are the most simple: our first aliment is milk, and it is only by degrees we bring ourselves to relish strong food; one speaking proof that such stimulating diet is not natural to the human palate, is the indifference children have for such food, and they evidently prefer pastry, fruit, &c., until the digestive organs become more depraved. Neither has man the peculiarities of a carnivorous animal; he has no hawk-bill, no sharp talons to tear his prey, and he wants that strength of stomach and power of digestion which is requisite to assimilate such heavy fare; his tongue is not rough, but, as compared with that of ravenous animals, of a very smooth texture; neither are his teeth pointed and rough like a saw, which above all is a distinguishing mark. It is well known that in our West Indian colonies, all the negroes still surviving, who were originally brought over from Africa, have their teeth filed down to this day, which was at first expressly done for the purpose of tearing and eating human flesh. It is probable that the first man who adopted this most horrible custom, was driven to it by necessity and the want or scarcity of other food, and we know certainly that cannibals are as much excited by the spirit of revenge as by an appetite for flesh, in devouring their captured enemies; we, however, have not even this poor plea; we are even ungrateful in attending to the satisfaction of our desires, for we kill without remorse, as well the ox that labours for us, as the sheep that clothes us, and disregarding all the natural wealth of the fields, and the delicacies of the garden, we capriciously destroy creatures who are no doubt sent into the world to enjoy life as well as ourselves. But you who contend that you are born with an inclination to such food, why object to kill what you would eat? do it, however, with your own hands, and without the aid of a knife; tear your victim to pieces with your fingers, as lions do with their claws, and after worrying a hare or a lamb, fall on and eat alive as they do; drink up the flowing blood, and devour the flesh while it is yet warm! Is not the very idea horrible? we know we could not do it; as it is, the sight of uncooked flesh with all its raw horror excites loathing and disgust, and it is only by culinary preparation, it can be softened and rendered somewhat more susceptible of mastication and digestion; it must be completely transformed by roasting, boiling, &c., and afterwards so disguised by salts, spices, and various sauces, that the natural taste is gone, the palate is deceived into the admission of such uncouth fare, and finds a flavour in the taste of these cadaverous morsels.

May we be allowed to take for granted, that health may be preserved through the same means by which it is recovered? If so, animal food is clearly an impediment to a healthy state of body, for health is restored by a simple and fleshless diet, and therefore may be preserved by the same regimen. That animal food is highly stimulant there can be no doubt; but like all other stimulants, it produces weakness eventually, for when excitement has been brought to its acme, debility must of necessity succeed.

The grand objection to an animal diet, is its detrimental effect upon the mind: it is well known that flesh-eating makes the body strong and lusty, (and it is for that reason recommended to pugilists who are in a course of training,) but the mind becomes weak and inactive; for it must needs happen, where a muddy and clogged body is shackled down by heavy and unnatural nourishment, that all the vigour and brilliancy of the understanding must be confused and made dull, and that, wanting clearness for nobler things, it must ramble after little and unworthy objects. The passions cannot fail to be excited, and thus the whole of the irrational nature becoming fattened as it were, the soul is drawn downward and abandons its proper love of true being. The truth of this we must all more or less have experienced: we are never so lively when we have dined, and the studious man knows well that the morning is the more proper time for his employment.

Why then should we not liberate ourselves from such inconvenience, by abandoning as far as we can a fleshy diet? and let us remember, that even on the score of comfort, the pain of indigence is much milder than that which is produced by repletion. We should thus free ourselves at once from a heavy and somnolent condition of body, from many and vehement diseases, from the want of medical assistance, from "the crassitude of the corporeal bond," and above all, from that savage and unnatural strength which incites to base actions, so as to escape an Iliad of evils!

F.

MY FATHERLAND

FROM THE GERMAN OF KORNER

 
Where is the minstrel's Fatherland?
'Tis where the spirit warmest glows,
Where laurels bloom for noblest brows,
Where warlike hearts the truest vows
Swear, lit by friendship's holy brand;
There was once my Fatherland.
 
 
What calls the minstrel, Fatherland?
That land, which weeps beneath the yoke
Its slaughter'd sons, and foeman's stroke:
Land of the stern, unbending oak.
Land of the free, the German land,
That once I call'd my Fatherland.
 
 
Why weeps the minstrel's Fatherland?
It weeps before a tyrant's dread,
The valour of its monarch's fled;
At Deutchland's voice a people dead,
Despised, unheeded its command.
This, this weeps, my Fatherland.
 
 
Whom calls the minstrel's Fatherland?
It calls on spirits pale with wonder,
In desperation's words of thunder,
To rise and burst its chain asunder.
On retribution's vengeful hand,
On this calls my Fatherland.
 
 
What would the minstrel's Fatherland?
To blot out slav'ry's foul disgrace,
The bloodhound from its realms to chase,
And free to bear a freeborn race:
Or bid them free beneath its sand,
This, this would my Fatherland.
 
 
And hopes the minstrel's Fatherland?
Yes, that for God and Deutchland's sake,
Its own true people will awake,
And outrag'd heaven, vengeance take;
That he,³ whose prowess has been scann'd,
Will save the minstrel's Fatherland.
 

H.

THE NATURALIST

ERRORS IN NATURAL HISTORY

(From Chit-chat, in the Magazine of Natural History, by Dovaston and Von Osdat.)

Dov. Ray tells a humourous story, that, after the patiently exploring commissioners, at the end of their long examinations, deliberately confessed their utter ignorance to account for the Goodwin Sands, an old man gravely asserted Tenterden steeple to be the cause.

Von Os. Tenterden steeple!

Dov. Ay; Tenterden steeple: for that those sands first appeared the year it was erected.

Von Os. And the slightest interview with the mass of mankind, any hour, will prove the race of Tenterden philosophers to be far from extinct.

Dov. Particularly with regard to facts relative to natural history: and this is the more lamentable, and perhaps the more surprising, when we consider its unlimited adaptability to all capacities, ages, sexes, and ranks; and, moreover, the absolute necessity of many parts of it to their intellectual existence.

Von Os. There is in our village, a slater, very fond of keeping bees. These useful insects, he says, at breeding-time sweat prodigiously; and each lays four eggs at the bottom of each cell: soon after which, he has observed the combs to become full of maggots, which must be carefully destroyed by smoke! When any one of his numerous family is buried, as the corpse passes out of the house, he carefully loosens every hive, and lifts it up; otherwise, he says, the bees would all die!

Dov. The superstitions about bees are numberless.

Von Os. And yet this poor fellow believes himself inspired with "grace abounding;" and readily undertakes to "spound," as he calls it, any verse read to him, however remotely insulated from the context.

Dov. But what would you think of a gentleman I have the pleasure of visiting in the higher ranks, and whose conversation is really a happiness to me, who talks of little young bees?—and really believes that they grow! He smiled at me compassionately when I told him that insects never grew when in the perfect state; but, like Minerva from the brain of Jove, issue full-armed with sharpest weapons, and corslets of burnished green, purple, and gold, in panoply complete: yet is this gentleman a man of genius, wit, and very extensive knowledge.

Von Os. Not in bees.

Dov. He was not aware of the numerous species of British bees; and that several, of a small intrepid sort, will enter the hives, and prey on the treasures of their more industrious congeners.

Von Os. Reasoning from analogy does not do in natural history.

Dov. No; for who, without observation, or the information of others, ever by analogical reasoning could reconcile the enormous difference of size and colour, in the sexes of some of the humble bees?—or ever discover that in some species there are even females of two sizes?

Von Os. But these never grow.

Dov. Certainly not. Bees, however, hatched in very old cells, will be somewhat smaller: as each maggot leaves a skin behind which, though thinner than the finest silk, layer after layer, contracts the cells, and somewhat compresses the future bee.

Von Os. No ignorance is so contemptible as that of what is hourly before our eyes. I do not so much wonder at the fellow who inquired if America was a very large town, as at him who, finding the froth of the Cicada spumaria L. on almost every blade in his garden, wondered where were all the cuckoos that produced it.

Dov. They call it cuckoo-spit, from its plentiful appearance about the arrival of that bird.

Von Os. That is reasoning from analogy.

Dov. And yet I see not why the bird should be given to spitting; unless, indeed, he came from America.

Von Os. The vulgar, too, not only delight in wonders inexplicable, but have a rabid propensity to pry into futurity.

Dov. I believe that propensity is far from being confined to the vulgar.

Von Os. True; but not in so ridiculous a way: as they prophesy the future price of wheat from the number of lenticular knobs (containing the sporules) in the bottom of a cup of the fungus Nidularia.

Dov. The weather may be foretold with considerable certainty, for a short time, from many hygrometric plants, and the atmospheric influence on animals.

Von Os. And from Cloudology, by the changing of primary clouds into compound; and these resolving themselves into nimbi, for rain; or gathering into cumuli, for fair weather. This is like to become a very useful and pleasing science.

Dov. It is wonders of this kind, and forewarnings of this nature, that natural history offers to the contemplative mind: in the place of superstitious follies, and unavailing predictions, such as the foretelling of luck from the number or chattering of magpies; and the wonder how red clover changes itself into grass, as many a farmer at this moment believes.

Von Os. Linnaeus himself was a bit of a prophet; as, indeed, thus well he might; for experience and observation amount almost to the power of vatacination. In his Academic Aménities he says, "Deus, O.M. et Natura nihil frustra creaverit. Posteros tamen tot inventuros fore utilitates ex muscis arguor, quot ex reliquis vegetabilibus."

Dov. English it, Von Osdat; thou'rt a scholar.

Von Os. "God and Nature have made nothing in vain. Posterity may discover as much in mosses, as of utility in other herbs."

Dov. And, truly, so they may: one lichen is already used as a blessed medicine in asthma; and another to thicken milk, as a nutritive posset. And who, enjoying the rich productions of our present state of horticulture, can recur without wonder to the tables of our ancestors? They knew absolutely nothing of vegetables in a culinary sense; and as for their application in medicine, they had no power unless gathered under planetary influence, "sliver'd in the moon's eclipse."

Von Os. When Mercury was culminating, or Mars and Venus had got into the ninth house.