"I was hardly ever in church, when, during | side of the mind. The monomania is painted sermon-time, it [this notion of tails wagging] throughout as rooted in the weakest point of did not present itself to my mind. If a pet a weak or weakened mind, the dreariest side parson entered the pulpit, I immediately saw of a dreary existence (the only exception beall the feminine tails wagging. If he spoke of the duties of children to their parents, all the senile male tails wagged; if of the duties of servants to their superiors, all the matronly tails were in agitation. And after a long dull sermon, when all bent forward to offer up their last prayer, there appeared a simultaneous wagging of all the tails of the congregation. The return of this feeling I alone fear." ing, perhaps, in the case where monomania— if such it can be called-is absolutely nothing but a physical result of intemperance, a mild case of delirium tremens). In every other case, it will be found that the author pictures the monomania as an attempt of weakened faculties to work upon an overstrained nervous string, so that all mental power disappears just when the wish to apply it is But though all the stories of monomania deepest. The imaginative interest popularly are necessarily based on a certain leading idea attached to this dreariest of all mental states, or impression, which furnishes the root of the is very like the imaginative charm of the monomania, the author's power is not exclu- autumnal tree, whose gorgeous spots of colorsively, perhaps not chiefly, shown in the de- ing are but marks of local decay. When the lineation of this absorbing idea or impression, colors of the mind are already flying, there is -but rather in the powerful use of common- a partial decomposition of its structure which place incident in piecing together the story may show how many brilliant prismatic shades which serves as the scene and background for really entered into the dull light of every-day the monomania. Some of the stories-as for common sense and common feeling,—and so example, " A Doctor's Wooing,"-are con- the monomaniac's sorrow or the monomaniac's nected very slenderly indeed with any aber- cunning may strike perceptions of other men ration of mind; and the morbid anatomy, more keenly than the homely love and skill which is never overdone, is often quite thrust of every-day life. Still these more conspicainto the background. In the last, and, in ous shades of thought and feeling are more some respects, most striking tale, "Memory conspicuous only because they lay barc, as it in Madness," though the madman is very were, the decaying membrane of the intellect powerfully described, he is certainly but sec- or heart; and if painted as they are, and not ondary in the story, which interests even more merely as adding to the picturesque effects of by its excessive realism, by the minute seam- a situation, they should give a sense of ining of the incidents, than by the striking pic- finite dreariness such as this author most truly ture of the religious monomaniac. paints. Ilis power of delineating the leaden Indeed, it is one of the characteristic ex-weariness and exhaustion of ordinary wretchcellences of these pictures of monomania that, instead of connecting it, as people are too apt to do, with highly wrought genius and too great a wealth of nature and sentiment, the author realizes, and makes his readers realize intensely, its utter dreariness. The stories all assume that monomania arises in a failure of the faculties round a given centre of thought, in a paralysis of power along a given line of mental direction unaccompanied by any parallel paralysis of interest, so that the patient busies himself involuntarily on a subject on which he has lost the power of bringing his faculties to bear. And further, they make us feel that these morbid centres of partial imbecility are, catris paribus, more likely to spring up in minds below the average in general power than in those above them, though the centre of the disease itself will often be on the noblest or most sensitive edness and toil-that vacancy of mind which comes of overtasked effort in common life, enables him to paint the still greater, though more striking, dreariness of monomania with remarkable truthfulness of effect. Take, for instance, the powerful and partly humorous description of the escape of the two monomaniacs from the asylum, their railway journey to London, and its results. The one who relates the whole is a monomaniac only on the subject of mechanical force. After an enfeebling attack of typhus fever, into which, after a favorable crisis, he had relapsed, he observes, as he fancies, during his recovery, that the force with which a bullet is discharged from an air-gun is far greater than the force employed to condense the air in the barrel of the gun, and thereupon there rises before his mind a dream of an infinite multi'plication of force which would enable him, if he chose, to destroy the earth. This subject is kept in abeyance in his mind while he is secluded from all the means and appliances for mechanical experiment, and kept in a tranquil corner of the world; but he has no sooner escaped, and is in the railway train, than these visions dilate before his relaxed understanding in tenfold grandeur. His companion, Madame Ruemont, is a governess, who has taught Greek history to young pupils at a tension of effort to herself that has resulted in the belief that she is Xerxes, and the first glimpse of a soldier or volunteer throws her into inextinguishable grief in the prospect of her mighty army's destruction, while occasionally it prompts her to put herself at its head and direct its movements. Both monomaniacs are perfectly sane on all other subjects, and keenly alive to each other's weakness. The following passages from the description of the journey of escape will show the admirable workmanship of the writer :"The train moved off. I threw myself back in the carriage and spoke not a word to my companion, for her observation about my expression of countenance had annoyed me extremely. Presently I became drowsy, and shortly afterwards I fell asleep. I know not how long I continued so, or how many stations we passed; but at last I was awoke, not only by the train stopping, but also by the loud sobbing of Mme. Reumont. I roused myself and looked around me, and the cause of her grief was in a moment apparent. A company of Highland soldiers were awaiting! on the platform of the station the arrival of the train, and no sooner had Mme. Reumont cast her eyes on them than the spirit of Xerxes immediately took possession of her body, and she forthwith gave way to her sorrow on the old subject-that in how short a time they would be no more. As the train had to wait some minutes at the station, the soldiers, attracted by her singular appearance, gathered round the carriage at first in astonishment; but when they perceived the burlesque sorrow of the poor lady, that feeling turned to merriment, and they broke into a loud laugh each time any particularly absurd gesture caught their attention. as the conduct of the men had been before, it now became intolerably worse. A certain sort of rude gallantry had restrained them only to laughing at Mme. Reumont's behavior; but in my case it was different; every coarse jest they could think of was immediately played off on me, some asking Mme. Reumont whether that strange-looking cove in the corner was her young man; others, whether we had had a quarrel; if so they were sure she was right, and they would stand up for her. Some advised her to leave such an ill-looking humbug as I was, and join their party; while another had the abominable insolence to advise us to kiss and make it up. 6 "I had now ample time and opportunity to indulge in my own thoughts, and they turned naturally on the inventions I had carried on to such a dangerous degree. The contributed, in no slight manner, to that currapidity at which the train was rolling on rent of thought. The more I reflected on the subject the more attractive it became; and at last the idea came over me whether it would solely as far as related to the motive power not be possible to carry on my invention, for propelling railway carriages, and resolutely to abstain from the temptation of pursuing the study further. The more I thought over the matter the more possible it appeared. Why, after all,' I argued, should I keep from mankind an invention which would immensely benefit them, merely from the possibility that I might carry it to a point so terribly destructive as to endanger the universe?' If such an idea were to actuate others, no physician would prescribe a narcotic for a patient in pain, for fear of being tempted to the death of the individual prescribed for." carry on the prescription till it had caused No; I was resolved. I would go on with my invention for the improvement of locomotives, and that I would manfully resist all temptations to carry it further." There are other passages showing a more striking resemblance to the minute and plodding imagination of De Foe in the book—as, for example, the description by the clergyman of the feelings which induced him to resort to brandy before the funeral of his only son. But these will be sufficient to show the dreary "I cannot describe how terribly annoyed power, not unsprinkled with humor, with I was at the whole scene; I bent forward, and which the subject of the book is treated, begged Male. Reumont to lean back from the though they will not show the skill with window. She paid me little attention, and which the attention of the reader is often then only replied to my entreaty by an impa-riveted on details studiously commonplace tient gesture, which did not pass without notice by the soldiers, one of whom caught and leaden-colored, which read like exact sight of me in my corner, and immediately images of the every-day miseries of every-day communicated the fact to his comrades. Bad poverty. THE LAST NUMBER OF 1863. To the Editor of the Living Age : THOUGH, my dear Sir, you ably and agreeably represent the living age, as your title aptly tells us, I have sometimes thought that an occasional reverting to the past age would be relished by many to whom such reversions would be novelties. Now it has occurred to me that the reproduction of the impressive paper with which Johnson closed his Idler, at the close of the year of a Living Age would be apropos? SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 1760. It is very happily and kindly provided, that in every life there are certain pauses and inthe careless, and seriousness upon the light; terruptions, which force consideration upon points of time where one course of action ends, and another begins; and by vicissitudes of fortune, or alteration of employment, by change of place or loss of friendship, we are forced to say of something, this is the last.' An even and unvaried tenor of life always hides from our apprehension the ap“Respicere ad longæ jussit spatia ultima vita."proach of its end. Succession is not per -JUV. Much of the pain and pleasure of mankind arises from the conjectures which every one makes of the thoughts of others; we all enjoy praise which we do not hear, and resent contempt which we do not see. The Idler may therefore be forgiven, if he suffers his imagination to represent to him what his readers will say or think when they are informed that they have now his last paper in their hands. Value is more frequently raised by scarcity than by use. That which lay neglected when it was common, rises in estimation as its quantity becomes less. We seldom learn the true want of what we have, till it is discovered that we can have no more. ceived but by variation; he that lives to-day as he lived yesterday, and expects that as the present day is, such will be the morrow, easily conceives time as running in a circle and returning to itself. The uncertainty of our duration is impressed commonly by dissimilitude of condition; it is only by finding life changeable that we are reminded of its shortness. This conviction, however forcible at every new impression, is every moment fading from the mind; and partly by the inevitable incursion of new images, and partly by voluntary exclusion of unwelcome thoughts, we are again exposed to the universal fallacy; and we must do another thing for the last time, before we consider that the time is nigh when we shall do no more. This essay will, perhaps, be read with care even by those who have not yet attended As the last Idler is published in that solto any other; and he that finds this late at-emn week which the Christian world has altention recompensed, will not forbear to wish that he had bestowed it sooner. Though the Idler and his readers have contracted no close friendship, they are perhaps both unwilling to part. There are few things not purely evil, of which we can say, without some emotion of uneasiness, this is the last.' Those who never could agree together, shed tears when mutual discontent has determined them to final separation; of a place which has been frequently visited, though without pleasure, the last look is taken with heaviness of heart; and the Idler, with all his chillness of tranquillity, is not wholly unaffected by the thought that his last essay is now before him. This secret horror of the last is inseparable from a thinking being, whose life is limited, and to whom death is dreadful. We always make a secret comparison between a part and ways set apart for the examination of the conscience, the review of life, the extinction of earthly desires, and the renovation of holy purposes, I hope that my readers are already disposed to view every incident with seriousness, and improve it by meditation: and that when they see this series of trifles brought to a conclusion, they will consider that, by outliving the Idler they have passed weeks, months, and years, which are now no longer in their power; that an end must in time be put to everything great, as to everything little; and that to life must come its last hour, and to this system of being its last day, the hour at which probation ceases and repentance will be vain; the day in which every work of the hand, and imagination of the heart, shall be brought to judgment, and an everlasting futurity shall be determined by the past. The interiors of the churches consist of scarce- those districts are called German colonies. ly anything more than four whitewashed They are not prosperous. In one of them, walls, with a few barbarously rude images near Rio de Janeiro, a large and handsome and a gaudily colored choir and altar-piece town has been built; but the builders lost at one end. Many of them are absolutely nearly all their investment, and the speculabeggarly. High up in the walls of the nave, tion is said to be a complete failure. The built in the walls, and flush with them, there name of the town is Petropolis. Ships still are little curtained private pews, which look frequently arrive at Santos full of emigrants exactly like boxes in a theatre. Excepting in destined for a colony about a hundred miles these there are no seats. All the central part beyond São Paulo. This proceeding is conof the nave is devoted to women, and merely ducted by a German speculator, who, under a narrow portion on each side and at the end sanction of the Brazilian Government, conopposite the choir, the west end, is left for tracts to bring over families on condition of men. The division is formed by a small hand- their remaining in his employment until they rail, often made only of sticks. In the Ca- have earned over and above their livelihood thedral of São Paulo it is so rudely and care- a previously stipulated sum-generally about lessly constructed that the bark has not been seventy pounds-with accumulating interest, removed from the sticks. Before the commencement of the service, and during portions of it, the women seat themselves on the floor. Very often their dresses form a splendid exhibition of rich colors, and great taste is displayed in their arrangement. On the great saints' days even the slaves (the domestic slaves in the towns) are elegantly dressed in silk gowns and mantles. The elevation of the Host is announced by a discharge of fireworks, and there is scarcely an hour in the day when the air of the towns is not burdened with their reports. When the divinity has been manufactured, he is invisibly but audibly transmitted to heaven on a rocket. I ought not to conclude this letter without saying something about one subject which I have not yet mentioned. Some years ago a system of German emigration to Brazil was set on foot. Whether the movement emanated originally from Germans or not, I do not know; but the Brazilian Government took active measures to promote it, and still gives it considerable encouragement. The immigrants have various localities granted to them as settlements, and They are sent up the country on foot, under the strict surveillance of agents of the speculator, and it is pitiable in the extreme to see them trudging away in health and spirits and to know the fate that awaits them. Many years elapse before they can accumulate the requisite amount, and they thus virtually become the slaves of the speculator. They are let out for hire in the same manner as the negroes, and are treated almost in the same way, except that they are not flogged. When they have at last performed their part of the contract age has destroyed their vigor, and bitter experience their capacity for enjoyment. With bodies debilitated by long years of labor on wretched diet, and with minds dispirited by their forlorn position, they are left penniless in an alien and unproductive country to eke out the remainder of their miserable existence as best they may. The speculator employs agents in Germany A PAPER on the subject of certain Egyptian papyri above four thousand years old will be read by M. Goodwin at the Society of Antiquaries at one of the meetings next month. These papyri are stated to contain the autobiography of an Egyptian adventurer under the earliest king of the twelfth dynasty, a part of a poem, and a long story, of which the incidents are referred to the third dynasty. A work on the same papyri has just appeared from the pen of M. Chabas, and was announced by us last week. We understand that the results of the decipherment of M. Chabas, coincide with those obtained by Mr. Goodwin, who has been studying the papyri independently. THE name of a poem which the Poet Laureate has ready is "Enoch, the Fisherman." |