Vol. I. September, 1887. No. 8. Project Gutenberg's Buchanan's Journal of Man, September 1887, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Buchanan's Journal of Man, September 1887 Volume 1, Number 8 Author: Various Editor: J. R. Buchanan Release Date: January 5, 2009 [EBook #27703] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BUCHANAN'S JOURNAL, SEPT. 1887 *** Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net BUCHANAN’S JOURNAL OF MAN. CONTENTS. Concord Symposium Rectification of Cerebral Science Human Longevity Miscellaneous Intelligence—An important Discovery; Jennie Collins; Greek Philosophy; Symposiums; Literature of the Past; The Concord School; New Books; Solar Biology; Dr. Franz Hartmann; Progress of Chemistry; Astronomy; Geology Illustrated; A Mathematical Prodigy; 1 Astrology in England; Primogeniture Abolished; Medical Intolerance and Cunning; Negro Turning White; The Cure of Hydrophobia; John Swinton’s Paper; Women’s Rights and Progress; Co-Education; Spirit writing; Progress of the Marvellous Chapter VII.—Practical Utility of Anthropology (Concluded) Chapter VIII.—The Origin and Foundation of the New Anthropology The Concord Symposium and their Greatest Contribution to Philosophy. Let no one accuse the critic of irreverence, who doubts the wisdom of universities, and of pedantic scholars who burrow like moles in the mouldering remnants of antiquity, but see nothing of the glorious sky overhead. While I have no reverence for barren or wasted intellect, I have the profoundest respect for the fruitful intellect which produces valuable results—for the vast energy of the lower class of intellectual powers, which have developed our immense wealth of the physical sciences and their useful applications. Indescribably grand they are. The mathematicians, chemists, geologists, astronomers, botanists, zoologists, anatomists, and the numerous masters of dynamic sciences and arts, have lifted the world out of the ruder elements of barbarism and suffering. But, as for the class of speculative talkers, whose self-sufficiency prompts them to assume the name of philosophers, to which they have no right, what have they ever done either to promote human welfare, or to assist human enlightenment and reveal the mysteries of life? Have they not always been as blind as owls, bats, and moles, to daylight progress? Are they not at this time utterly and unconsciously blind to the progress of spiritual sciences, to the revelations of psychometry and anthropology—placing themselves, indeed, in that hopeless class who are too ignorant to know their ignorance, too far in the dark to know or suspect that there is any light? A remnant of these worshippers of antiquity still holds its seances at Concord, Mass., and publishes its amazingly dry Journal of Speculative Philosophy. With the unconscious solemnity of earnestness, it still digs into Aristotle’s logic and speculations—the dryest material that was ever used to benumb the brains of young collegians, and teach them how not to reason, for Aristotle never had a glimmering conception of what the process of reasoning is. Yet all Concordians are not Aristotelians; some of them have more modern ideas, and a vigorous, though misdirected, mentality. Prof. W. T. Harris, the leader of the Concordians, to whose lucubrations the newspapers give ample space, as those of the representative man, made a second attempt to explore the Aristotelian darkness, in which his first essay was totally lost. If there is but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous, it is not even a step from the absurd to the ludicrous and amusing. The professional wit or joker is never so richly amusing as the man who is utterly unconscious that he is in the least funny, while heroically in earnest. The professed comedian never furnishes so much amusement as the would-be heroic tragedian, who, like the Count Joannes, furnishes uproarious merriment for the whole evening. I have seen nothing in our Boston newspapers quite so amusing as the very friendly and sympathetic report of Prof. Harris’ most elaborate and laborious comments on the SYLLOGISMS, which reminds one of Hopkinson’s metaphysical and elaborate disquisition on the nature, properties, relations, and essential entity of a salt-box. We do not laugh at the professor as we did at Daniel Pratt, the “Great American Traveller,” whose travels are now ended; for, aside from his metaphysical follies, Prof. Harris is a man of real merit and great intellectual industry, whose services in education will entitle him to be remembered; but when the metaphysical impulse seizes him, “Who would not laugh if such a fool there be, Who would not weep if Atticus were he.” The lecture of Prof. Harris was reported in the Boston Herald, in the style of a gushing girl with her first lover, as a “New Step in the History of Philosophy,” attended by a full 2 audience as “a rare treat” “like buckwheat-cakes fresh from the griddle,” for “Prof. Harris took a decidedly new step in Philosophy,” giving “an insight which no philosopher, ancient or modern, has attained.” Again, speaking of it privately, Prof. Harris said, “I got hold of the idea three or four years ago, and I have been trying to work it out since. I regard it as my best contribution to philosophy.” “Montes parturiunt,” What do they bring forth? Is it a mouse of respectable size? The Boston Herald, which is generally smart, though never profound, says of the symposium, “It has set up Aristotle this year as its golden calf to be worshipped.” “But when you ask the question, what does all this talk amount to, it is difficult to give an affirmative answer.” “It is simply threshing straw over, again and again.” But it is not aware that the Concord straw is merely the dried weeds that Lord Bacon cut up and threw out of the field of respectable literature over two hundred and sixty years ago. “What man (says the Herald), with any serious purpose in life, has any time to waste over what somebody thinks Aristotle ought to have thought or said.” And my readers may ask, why give the valuable space of the Journal of Man to examining such trash? Precisely because it is trash, and yet occupies a place of honor, standing in the way of progress and representing the tendencies of education for centuries, which still survive, though they may be said to have gone to seed. Concord represents University philosophy, as a dude represents fashion, and as University philosophy is a haughty antagonist of all genuine philosophy, it is important to illustrate its worthlessness. The subject of Prof. Harris’ lecture was “Aristotle’s Theory of the Syllogism, Compared with that of Hegel.” As these two were the great masters of obscurantism, the lecture should have been, of course, as perfect a specimen as either of darkness and emptiness. Omitting the definitions of syllogisms, which are familiar to all collegians, but too intolerably tedious to be inflicted on my readers, we find a very unexpected specimen of common sense following the talk about syllogisms, which embodied Aristotle’s ideas of Reason. Here it is: “Logic is often called the art of reasoning, and many people study it with a view to mastering an art of correct thinking, hoping thereby to get an instrument useful in the acquirement of truth. It may be doubted, however, whether the mind gets much aid in the pursuit of truth by studying logic.” There is no doubt at all about it,—not one rational individual out of a hundred thousand collegians will confess that he ever got any benefit in reasoning or in pursuing truth from Aristotle’s syllogistic formula. “All men are mortal—Socrates is a man, and therefore Socrates is mortal.” Why, then, such a flourish of trumpets over some new trick in playing with syllogism, when the whole thing is utterly worthless? And the Professor upsets himself in his own lecture, thus: “If the middle tub is contained in the big tub, and the little tub is contained in the middle tub, then the little tub is contained in the big tub.” Hegel says: “Common sense in its reaction against such logical formality and artificiality turned away in disgust, and was of the opinion that it could do without such a science as logic.” Most true, Philosopher Hegel, you have absurdities of your own on a gigantic scale, but you do well to reject the petty absurdities of Aristotle. How does Prof. Harris rise up from Hegel’s fatal blow? He rises like Antæus from touching the earth, and triumphantly shows that syllogisms are the most necessary of all things to humanity in its mundane existence; that, in fact, we have all been syllogizing ever since we left the maternal bosom to look at the cradle, the cat, and the dog. In fact we never could have grown up to manhood, much less to be Concordian philosophers, if we had not been syllogizing all the days of our life, and, indeed, it is probable we shall continue syllogizing to all eternity, in the next life, if we have any growth in knowledge at all. Blessed be the memory of Aristotle, the great original and unrivalled discoverer of the syllogism, by means of which all human knowledge has been built up, and “blessed be the man (as Sancho Panza said) who first invented sleep,” by which we are relieved, to rest after the mighty labors of the syllogism. And lo! we have been syllogizing all these years, alike when we listen to the nocturnal yowl of the tomcat, and to the morning song of the lark; alike, when we smell the rose, seize the orange, or devour the tempting oyster. In syllogism do we live and move, and have our being. This is the grand discovery—the last great contribution to philosophy from Concord’s greatest philosopher. We suddenly discover that we have been syllogizing like philosophers, as Mrs. Malaprop discovered that her children had been speaking English. The illustration of this overwhelming discovery is peculiarly happy, for he applies it to the discovery of a red flannel rag in the back yard or garden, and, after detecting the red flannel by syllogism, he advances to the grander problem of showing how, by philosophic methods, we can actually distinguish an old tin can from an elephant. To enjoy this fully, the reader must take it himself from the reported lecture. “The act of recognition is an unconscious syllogistic process in the second 3 4 figure of the syllogism. I perceive something scarlet in the garden. So far I recognize a host of attributes; it is a real object; the place, surroundings and color are recognized. The sensations were so familiar that the recognition was inconceivably rapid. Then comes a slower process. The scarlet is an attribute. What can the object be? I think it is a piece of red flannel. The inference comes almost to the surface of consciousness, but I have reasoned unconsciously: This object is red. A piece of flannel is red; therefore this may be a piece of red flannel. The middle term is predicate in both premises. The unknown object is red. A familiar object (flannel) is red. Hence, I recognize this as flannel. I identify the unknown object with what is familiar in my mind. But the logician will say that this reasoning is on the invalid mode of the second figure, from which you can never draw an affirmative conclusion. Precisely so, if you mean a necessary conclusion. But sense-perception uses affirmative modes of the second figure and derives probable knowledge therefrom. I make probable knowledge more certain by verifying the inference or correcting it. I go to the garden and pick up the object, and see the threads and fiber of the wool. Or perhaps I find it was a piece of red paper. But whatever it was, at the end I can say what I have seen, only in so far as I have recognized or identified it. Recognition proceeds by the second figure, and has chiefly the non-valid modes. But it may use the valid modes, though in a still less conscious manner. For instance, I recognized that the object was not an elephant by this valid form; every elephant is larger than a tin can; this object is not larger than a tin can; therefore, this object is necessarily not an elephant; or, by this other valid form, no elephant is as small as a tomato can; this object is just the size of a tomato can; hence this object is not an elephant. Had some one told me to look out and see an elephant, my perception would unconsciously have taken one of these forms. The scarlet is recognized as such only as it is identified with a previous impression of scarlet. Here is our third surprise in psychology. Unless there were a priori idea, sense-perception could never begin. More, unless there were a priori idea, it could not begin. For there must be two recognitions before there can be a first new idea from sense-perception. The fourth surprise is that directly with the first activity of perception in the second figure of the syllogism is joined a second activity which takes place in the form of the first figure of the syllogism. As soon as I perceived the red object to be a piece of flannel, I at once reinforced my sense-perception by unlocking all my previous store of knowledge stored up under the category of red flannel. I unconsciously syllogized thus: ‘All red flannel has threads of warp and woof and a rough texture, caused by the coarse fibres of wool curling up stiffly; this is a piece of red flannel; hence this will be found to have these properties.’ The act of recognition is a subsumption of the object under a class by use of the second figure of the syllogism. “Now begins the syllogistic activity under the form of the third figure. There are a variety of attributes which I recognize by the activity of the perceiving mind in the form of the first figure, as it recognizes the general classes by the primary activity in the form of the second figure. These attributes are collected around the object as a centre of interest, and it is now the middle term. These give a new element of experience, thus: ‘Major—this is a tin can; minor—it lies neglected in the garden; conclusion—tin cans get abandoned to neglect.’ And so on, as to the use of the contents and the value of the can, running out into a long series of inferences.” As we have now reached the seventh heaven of Concord philosophy, and know how to distinguish an old tin can from an elephant, let us rest in peace, to meditate and enjoy its serene delights. We have had the supreme satisfaction of listening to the modern Plato, the leader at Concord. The Herald has informed us that on another day “the school listened with great satisfaction to Prof. Harris, who is constantly adding to the deep impression he has already made, and to the high opinion in which he is held as the most acute and profound thinker of the times, in his field.” Lest the reader should fail to see in the foregoing what the great contribution to philosophy is, let us look in the Open Court of Chicago, which has a most affectionate partiality for metaphysical mystery. It says this “Best contribution to philosophy” “may be summed up thus,” “We can perceive nothing but what we can identify with what was familiar already.” If this were true, the babe could never perceive anything, as it begins without any knowledge, and it would be impossible for us to learn anything or acquire 5 any new ideas. This is rather an amusing discovery! but it is barely possible or conceivable that there are some old fossils whose minds are in that melancholy condition. P. S. After a few hours of repose to recover from mental fatigue and digest the new wisdom so suddenly let loose upon mankind, we discover the new aspect of the world of (Concord) philosophy. The great question of the future will be to syllogize or not to syllogize. Is it possible to distinguish an elephant from a tin can by any other method than the syllogism? When that question is decisively settled, if it ever can be settled (for metaphysical questions generally last through the centuries) Prof. Harris will have an opportunity to win still brighter laurels, and make still greater contributions to philosophy, by finding more syllogisms. Will he not prove that mathematics is the sphere of syllogism also, for if two and two make four, does not the conception of four assume the position of the major predicate, which is the generalized idea of one to a quadruple extent, and also of twos duplicated. Thus the major predicate, that four is two twos, involves the minor that two is the half of four and consequently that twice two is four. Q. E. D. The syllogism is irresistible. If Prof. Harris should establish the mathematical syllogism and extend its power through all the realms of mathematics, as so industrious a thinker might easily do, he will have taken a step far in advance of Plato, and justly deserve a higher rank, for Plato (see his Phædo) was terribly puzzled over the question how one and one make two. After much puzzling he decided finally that one and one became two “by participation in duality.” This was the first great step to introduce philosophy into mathematics. Let Prof. Harris consummate this great work either by syllogism or by “participation.” Perhaps he may introduce us to a still greater “surprise” by showing that all metaphors and poetical figures of speech are constructed on syllogistic principles. It can be done, but we must not lift the veil of wisdom too hastily, or rush in where Concord philosophers “fear to tread.” They have an endless future feast in the syllogisms, if they are faithful followers of Prof. Harris. But possibly there may be others attracted to Concord who would give the school something less dry than metaphysics, or, some other sort of metaphysics. One of their most esteemed orators made a diversion from the syllogism by presenting some other idea based on Aristotle, which ought to eclipse the syllogism, for, according to the report, he said “It is the most momentous question that can engage the human attention. It involves the reality of God, of personal existence, and freedom among men, and of immortality.” Immense it must be! Dominic Sampson would surely say “Prodigious!” An attentive study of the obscure phraseology of this philosopher enables one to discover that the great and tragical question concerns the reality of reality, or what the reality is, and whether it is real or not, and how we can find it out. The way to find out whether that which we think is, is or is not, is to go back to Aristotle, who is the only man that ever understood the is-ness of the is. As the lecturer is reported to say, “The first sign of a movement in the right direction is the serious attention now being devoted in many quarters to the writings of Aristotle, who, in this, as in many other things, will long remain the master of those that know.” Evidently those that don’t go to Aristotle don’t know anything about life, freedom, God and immortality. How unfortunate we are, and how fortunate the professor is, must appear by his answer to the great question, reported as follows: “Prof. Davidson discussed at length the nature of phenomena, taking the underlying basis that time and space are relations of the real to the phenomenal, and nothing but relations; also that we not only have ideas of reality, but that these ideas are the realities themselves. Then the question is, if the concept of reality be reality itself, how is this related to phenomena? There is a double relation, active and passive. * * * Eternal realities are known to us only as terms of phenomena. They are in ourselves, and from the exigencies of our intelligence.” Thus we understand nothing whatever exists but our own cogitations, or, as the sailor jocosely expressed it—“’Tis all in my eye”—and after these many years we are brought back to the famous expression of the Boston Transcendentalist, “we should not say it rains, it snows, we should say I rain, I snow.” This, gentle, patient reader, is no burlesque, that you have been reading, it is the wisdom of the Concord Symposium of professors and authors meeting near the end of the 19th century, and basking in the smiles of cultured Boston! or at least that portion which is devoted to the Bostonese idea of philosophy, and thinks the feeblest glimmer of antiquity worth more than the science of to-day. Such indeed are the sentiments of the President of Boston University. And as for the wisdom of Concord, the Open Court, which is good authority, says: “Dr. Harris and Prof. Davidson are, without doubt, the pillars of the school; but there is some difference of opinion as to which is its indispensable support.” An intelligent spectator would say that more metaphysical acumen and vigor has been displayed by Dr. Edward Montgomery than by all the remainder of those engaged in the blind hunt for philosophy 6 7 at Concord. On the last day of the Symposium, July 28, the report says “The burden has fallen wholly upon Prof. Harris, and he has borne it so as to excite the wonder and admiration of his listeners. He went to the very bottom of things as far as human thought could go, and there, as he put it, was on solid rock, with no possibility of scepticism. Both his forenoon and evening lectures were masterly in their way.” Exactly so; they were unsurpassed as a reproduction of the style and manner of the Aristotelian folly which held Europe fast in that wretched period called the Dark Ages, which preceded the dawn of intelligence with Galileo. About one half of the reported lectures on Aristotle is, though cloudy, intelligible. The remainder is a fair specimen of that skimmy-dashy style of thought which glances over the surfaces of things and never reaches their substance or reality, yet boasts of its unlimited profundity because it does not know the meaning of profound. Such thinking must necessarily end in falsity and folly, of which the lecture gives many specimens, which it is worth while to quote, to show what the devotees of antiquity call philosophy— thus: “If we cannot know the ultimate nature of being, then philosophy is impossible, for philosophy differs from other kind of knowing by seeking a first principle.” “The objects of philosophy then include those of ontology. They are first the nature of the ultimate being of the universe, the first principle, the idea of God.” This is not philosophy, but might be called theology, and not legitimate theology even, but supra-theological—for all sane theology admits that man cannot know God. It is a desperate, insane suggestion that we must know the unknowable, and that if we cannot do that we can have no philosophy. Of course men who think this way know nothing of philosophy, and are beyond the reach of reason. Again, “in the nature of the truly independent and true being, it sees necessary transcendence of space and time, and this is essential immortality.” This is a fair specimen of the skimmy-dashy style. Immortality is not a “transcendence of space,” if that means anything at all, but a conscious existence without end. Perhaps by “transcendence of space” he means filling all the space there is, and going considerably beyond it where there is no space. His idea of infinity is worthy of Aristotle or Hegel, to whom, in fact, it belongs—he says, “self-conditioning is the form of the whole, the form of that which is its own other.” That something should be “its own other” is just as clear as that it should be its own mother or father. Do such expressions represent any ideas, or do metaphysicians use words as a substitute for ideas—verily they do, in Hegelian metaphysics, and the same thing is done in asylums for the insane. Again, “our knowledge of quantity is a knowledge of what is universal and necessary, and hence is not derived from experience.” If this is true of the professor, he knew all of mathematics before he opened his eyes in the cradle. Common mortals know nothing of quantity or anything else, until they have had a little experience. If we know everything that is “universal and necessary” without experience, the little babes must be very wise indeed. Again, “causal energy is essentially a self-separation, for in order that a cause A. may produce an effect in B. outside of it, cause A. must detach or separate from itself the influence or energy which modifies B.” What does the earth detach from itself when it causes a heavy body to fall? In chemical catalysis what does the second body “detach from itself” to produce change in the first, which is changed by its mere presence. The assertion is but partially true, applying only to the transfer of force when one body strikes another. Aristotle has some thoroughly absurd suggestions on the same subject which Professor H. did not reproduce. How does he grapple with the idea of God, which is the essence of his philosophy? Here it is: “The first principle as pure self-activity, must necessarily have the permanent form of knowing of knowing, for this root form of self-consciousness is entirely self-related. The self sees the essential self, the self-activity is the object of self.” We are instructed! God knows he knows, and that is the very essence of his divinity—that is enough. In this profound expression we have the consummation of philosophy, for the purpose of his philosophy is to know God, “Nunc dimittis,” we need to know nothing more,—we know we know, and so we are God’s. “This line of thought brought up at every step some phase of Plato and Aristotle,” said the professor, and we are thankful that he did not resurrect any more of the puerilities of Athenian ignorance. “Knowing of knowing” is quite enough, which he repeats to be emphatic. “All true being is in the form of the 8 infinite or self-related, and related to itself as the knowing of knowing. All beings that are not this perfect form of self-knowing, either potentially or actually, must be parts of a system or world order which is produced in some way by true being or self-knowing. All potential self-knowings contain within themselves the power to realize their self- knowledge, and are therefore free beings.” This is a broad hint that men are gods and lands us in that realm of folly of which Mrs. Eddy is the presiding genius. She is much indebted to the Concord philosophers for lending their respectability to her labyrinth of self-contradictions. One quotation more, to give the essence of this Concord philosophy. “The Divine Being exists for himself as one object. This gives us the Logos, or the only-begotten. The Logos knows himself as personal perfection, and also as generated, though in an infinite past time. This is its recognition of its first principle and its unbegotten ‘Father.’ But whatever it knows in self-consciousness, it creates or makes to exist,” and more of the same sort. We are overwhelmed with such a flood of wisdom! How the professor attained so intimate, familiar, and perfect a knowledge of the infinite power, to which the fathomless depths of starry infinity are as nothing, is a great mystery. Was it by Kabbala or by Thaumaturgy, or did he follow the sublime instructions of his great brother Plato, and thrust his head through the revolving dome of the universe, where the infinite truth is seen in materialized forms. The “Divine” Plato (of whom Emerson said, “Plato is philosophy, and philosophy is Plato”) described the immortal Gods as driving up in chariots through the dome of the heavens to get upon the roof, and look abroad at infinite truth, as they stand or drive upon the revolving dome, followed by ambitious souls who barely get their heads through the roof with difficulty, and catch a hasty glimpse of infinite truth, before they tumble back, or lame their wings, or perhaps drop into the body of some brute. The revolving dome and the ambitious souls peeping through the roof, would be a good subject for the next symposium. They might tell us whether these ambitious souls that peep through the roof are Concordian philosophers, or belong to the schools of Aquinas and Duns Scotus. The philosophy of the Greeks is worth no more to-day than their chemistry or their physiology. The lingering superstition of believing because they had famous warriors, orators, statesmen, historians, poets, and sculptors, while entirely ignorant of science and philosophy, that their philosophic puerilities are worthy of adoration in the 19th century, a superstition which makes a fetish of the writings of Plato and Aristotle, has been tolerated long enough, and as no one has attempted to give a critical estimate of this effete literature since Lord Bacon did something in that way, I shall not much longer postpone this duty. Rectification of Cerebral Science.—In the October number the rectification of cerebral science as to psychic functions will be shown by appropriate engravings, showing how far the discoveries and doctrines of Gall and Spurzheim are sustained by positive science. In the further development of the subject, hereafter, the true value and proper position of the discoveries of Ferrier, and the continental vivisectionists will be explained, though but meagre contributions to psychology, they furnish very valuable additional information as to the functions of the brain. Human Longevity. Is not longevity in some sense a measure of true civilization or improvement of the race? It is certainly an evidence of conformity to the Divine laws of life and health, which reward right action with happiness, health, and long life. I cannot, therefore, think the study of longevity unimportant. To every one of us it is a vital question, for death is 9 10 regarded as the greatest calamity, and is the severest penalty of angry enemies, or of outraged laws. It is our duty as well as privilege to perfect our constitution, and see that it does not wear out too soon, that we are not prematurely called away from our duties. And I bring it as serious charge against modern systems of education, that they tend to degenerate mankind, to impair the constitution and to shorten life. That we should not submit to this, but should all aspire to live a century or longer, if we have a fair opportunity, I seriously maintain, and that my readers may be inspired with a like determination, I take pleasure in quoting examples. In Dr. Cohausen’s Hermippus Redivivus republished in 1744, I find the following statements: “It is very remarkable, that not only the sacred writers, but all the ancient Chaldean, Egyptian, and Chinese authors speak of the great ages of such as lived in early times, and this with such confidence that Xenophon, Pliny, and other judicious persons receive their testimony without scruple. But to come down to later times, Attila, King of the Huns, who reigned in the fifth century, lived to 124, and then died of excess, the first night of his second nuptials with one of the most beautiful princesses of that age. Piastus, King of Poland, who from the rank of a peasant was raised to that of a prince, in the year 824, lived to be 120, and governed his subjects with such ability to the very last, that his name is still in the highest veneration amongst his countrymen. Marcus Valerius Corvinus, a Roman Consul, was celebrated as a true patriot and a most excellent person in private life, by the elder Cato, and yet Corvinus was then upwards of a hundred. Hippocrates, the best of physicians lived to an 104, but Asclepiades, a Persian physician, reached 150. Galen lived in undisturbed health to 104; Sophocles, the tragic poet, lived to 130; Democritus, the philosopher, lived to 104; and Euphranor taught his scholars at upward of 100; and yet what are these to Epiminedes of Crete, who, according to Theopompus, an unblemished historian, lived to upwards of 157. I mention these, because, if there be any truth or security in history, we may rely as firmly on the facts recorded of them as on any facts whatever. Pliny gives an account that in the city of Parma, there were two of 130 years of age, three of 120, at a certain taxation, or rather visitation, and in many cities of Italy, people much older, particularly at Ariminium, one Marcus Apponius, who was 150. Vincent Coquelin, a clergyman, died at Paris in 1664, at 112. Lawrence Hutland, lived in the Orkneys to 170. James Sands, an Englishman, towards the latter end of the last century, died at 140, and his wife at 120. In Sweden, it is a common thing to meet with people above 100, and Rudbekius affirms from bills of mortality signed by his brother, who was a bishop, that in the small extent of twelve parishes, there died in the space of thirty-seven years, 232 men, between 100 and 140 years of age, which is the more credible, since in the diet assembled by the late Queen of Sweden, in 1713, the oldest and best speaker among the deputies from the order of Peasants was considerably above 100. These accounts, however, are far short of what might be produced from Africa and North America, that I confine myself to such accounts as are truly authentic.” All of these instances the doctor sustains by reference to his authorities. To the foregoing he adds the examples of teachers and persons who associate with the young, to which he ascribes great value in promoting longevity. Thus, “Gorgias, the master of Isocrates, and many other eminent persons, lived to be 108. His scholar, Isocrates, in the 94th year of his age published a book, and survived the publication four years, in all which time he betrayed not the least failure, either in memory or in judgment; he died with the reputation of being the most eloquent man in Greece. Xenophilus, an eminent Pythagorean philosopher, taught a numerous train of students till he arrived at the age of 105, and even then enjoyed a very perfect health, and left this world before his abilities left him. Platerus tells us that his grandfather, who exercised the office of a preceptor to some young nobleman, married a woman of thirty when he was in the 100th year of his age. His son by this marriage did not stay like his father, but took him a wife when he was twenty; the old man was in full health and spirits at the wedding, and lived six years afterward. Francis Secordo Horigi, usually distinguished by the name of Huppazoli, was consul for the State of Venice in the island of Scio, where he died in the beginning of 1702, when he was very near 115. He married in Scio when he was young, and being much addicted to the fair sex, he had in all five wives, and fifteen or twenty concubines, all of them young, beautiful women, by whom he had forty-nine sons and daughters, whom he educated with the utmost tenderness, and was constantly with them, as much as his business would permit. He was never sick. His sight, hearing, memory, and activity were amazing. He walked every day about eight miles; his hair, which was long and graceful, became white by the time that he was four-score, but turned black at 100, as did his eyebrows and beard at 112. At 110 he lost all his teeth, but the year before he died he cut two large ones with great pain. His food was generally a 11 few spoonfuls of broth, after which he ate some little thing roasted; his breakfast and supper, bread and fruit; his constant drink, distilled water, without any addition of wine or other strong liquor to the very last. He was a man of strict honor, of great abilities, of a free, pleasant, and sprightly temper, as we are told by many travellers, who were all struck with the good sense and good humor of this polite old man.” “In the same country (as Thomas Parr) lived the famous Countess of Desmond. From deeds, settlements, and other indisputable testimonies it appeared clearly that she was upwards of 140, according to the computation of the great Lord Bacon, who knew her personally, and remarks this particularity about her, that she thrice changed her teeth.” The stern scepticism of the medical profession and especially among its leaders has borne so heavily against all cheerful views of life and longevity, that at the risk of becoming monotonous I again refer to this subject and present examples of longevity which cannot be denied, in addition to the list previously given. Medical collegiate scepticism can deny anything. Ultra sceptics deny centenarian life, as they also denied the existence of hydrophobia, while those who admitted its existence denied its curability. Connecticut alone furnishes a good supply of centenarians. Three years ago Mr. Frederick Nash, of Westport, Conn, published a pamphlet giving the old people living in Connecticut, including twenty-three centenarians, whom he described. The names of twelve of these were as follows: Edmund R. Kidder, of Berlin, Aug. 17, 1784. Jeremiah Austin, Coventry, Feb. 10, 1783. Mrs. Lucy Luther, Hadlyme, Jan. 6, 1784. Walter Pease, Enfield, March 29, 1784. Egbert Cowles, Farmington, April 4, 1785. Mrs. Eunice Hollister, Glastonbury, Aug. 9, 1784. Mrs. Elsie Chittenden, Guilford, April 24, 1784. Miss Eunice Saxton, Colchester, Sept. 6, 1784. Marvin Smith, Montville, Nov. 18, 1784. Mrs. Phebe Briggs, Sherman, Nov. 16, 1784. Mrs. Elizabeth Buck, Wethersfield, Jan. 10, 1784. Mrs. Clarissa D. Raymond, Milton, April 22, 1782. The others are either of foreign birth or former slaves, whose precise ages cannot be established. In addition to this list the newspapers gave us Mrs. Abigail Ford of Washington, born in 1780, Mr. Darby Green of Reading, born in 1779, Tryphena Jackson, colored, born in 1782, and Wm. Hamilton, Irish, also in 1782; and an old sailor in New Haven town house claims to have been born in 1778. The very careful investigation of Connecticut by Mr. Nash shows that “the duration of human life in this State is greater than it was a generation ago. Then only one person in 500 lived to see 80 years. Now one per cent of the population live to that age. The average age of 6,223 persons is 83 years. The number of ages ranging from 84 to 89 years is large, and those who are 90 and over number 651; nine are 99, thirteen are 98, and eleven are 97. No age of less than 80 years has been recorded. “It may be pleasing to our grandmothers to know that in this list of more than 6,000, more than 4,000 are women, and that only eight of the twenty centenarians are men. The list adds strength to what has already been held as true, that married people always live longer than single, and it also shows that two spinsters have begun their second century. They are accompanied on the list by two sturdy bachelors.” In a sketch of centenarians published in November, 1884, are given the names of Nathaniel H. Cole of Greenwich, R. I., born in 1783, Royal C. Jameson, Papakating, N. J., born in 1784, Wm. Jovel of New Jersey, and Luther Catlin of Bridgewater, Pa., born in 1784. The last three took an active part in the last presidential election. In Maine were reported Mrs. Sally Powers, Augusta, believed to be born in 1778, Mrs. Thankful Donnel of West Bath, 101, Mrs. Betsy Moody, 102, Mrs. Philip Pervear of Sedgwick, 105, Jotham Johnson of Durham, 100, Mrs. Small of Bowdoinham, 100. If alive to-day, they are three years older. In Vermont, from 1881 to 1884, sixteen centenarians died; and in the last census of the United States there were 322. In looking over my records I find so many other examples of centenarian life that I shall not weary the reader by their repetition, but examples running for over a century may be worth mentioning. Madame Lacene, one of the most brilliant women of France, died a few years ago at Lyons in her 104th year. Her will was under contest on account of her extreme age, but the court was fully satisfied of her intellectual competence. In the olden time she had often entertained Mme. de Stael, Mme. Recamier, and Benj. Constant. 12 13 The oldest person in France, perhaps in the world, is said to be a woman who lives in the village of Auberive, in Royans. She was born March 16, 1761, and is therefore 125 years old. The authentic record of her birth is to be found in the parish register of St. Just de Claix, in the department of the Isere.—Scientific American. “Among the professors at German universities there were no fewer than 157 between the ages of seventy and ninety, of whom 122 still deliver lectures, seven of these being between eighty-five and eighty-nine years of age. The oldest, Von Ranke, was in active service in his 90th year. Elennich, of Breslau, only thirty-nine days younger, still shows energy in anything he puts his hands to.” Mrs. Henry Alphonse of Concord, Mo., over 105, retained her memory and eyesight without glasses till after 104. Mr. Charles Crowley died at Suncook, N. H. over 104. Frank Bogkin, a colored man of Montgomery, Ala., was believed to be 115 at his death recently. When he was about 60 years old, he earned money and purchased his freedom. Tony Morgan, a blind negro, was recently living at Mobile, 105 years old. Pompey Graham of Montgomery, N. Y., lately died at 119, and retained his faculties. Phebe Jenkins of Beaufort County, South Carolina, was believed to be 120 years old when she died about a year ago. Mrs. Louisa Elgin of Seymour, Indiana, whose mother lived to be 115, was recently living at 105. “Jennie White, a colored woman, died in St. Joseph, Mo., Monday last, aged 122 years. She was born in the eastern part of Georgia, and when twenty years of age was taken to Tennessee, where she remained for ninety-six years. She had lived in St. Joseph about ten years. She was a cook for Captain Waterfall, of George Washington’s staff, during the war of the Revolution. She remembered the death of Washington well, and used to tell a number of interesting stories about early times. She died in full possession of all her mental faculties, but was a cripple and helpless.” Males and Females.—In the first number of the Journal it was stated that although women were from two to six per cent more numerous in population, more males were born by four to sixteen per cent. This was a typographical error; it should have been from four to six per cent, generally four. The greatest excess of males is in illegitimate births. The reversal of proportions in the progress of life shows that the male mortality is much greater than the female. Hence the more tranquil habits and greater predominance of the moral nature in women increases their longevity, while the greater indulgence of the passions and appetites, the greater muscular and intellectual force among men, are hostile to longevity. Hence the establishment of a true religion, or the application of the “New Education,” will greatly increase longevity. It will also be increased by greater care of health in manufacturing establishments, and by diminishing the hours of labor; for exhausting physical labor not only shortens life but predisposes to intemperance. The injurious effect of excessive toil is shown in the shorter lives of the poor, and is enforced by Finlaison’s “Report on Friendly Societies to the British Parliament,” which says (p. 211) “The practicable difference in the distribution of sickness seems to turn upon the amount of the expenditure of physical force. This is no new thing, for in all ages the enervation and decrepitude of the bodily frame has been observed to follow a prodigal waste of the mental or corporeal energies. But it has been nowhere previously established upon recorded experience that the quantum of sickness annually falling to the lot of man is in a direct proportion to the demands upon his muscular power. So it would seem, however.” Philanthropists should therefore unite in limiting the hours of daily labor to ten or less. But more quiet pursuits have greater endurance; women keeping house have no ten hour limit, and the editor of the Journal generally gives more than twelve hours a day to his daily labor. A Negro 135 Years Old.—The St. Louis Globe Democrat says: James James, a negro, and citizen of the United States, who resides at Santa Rosa, Mexico, is probably the oldest man on earth. He was born near Dorchester, S. C., in 1752, and while an infant was removed to Medway River, Ga., in the same year that Franklin brought down electricity from the thunder clouds. In 1772 there was quite an immigration into South Carolina, and his master, James James (from whom he takes his name), moved near Charleston, S. C., in company with a number of his neighbors. On June 4, 1776, when 24 years of age, a large British fleet, under Sir Peter Parker, arrived off Charleston. The citizens had erected a palmetto-wood fort on Sullivan’s Island, with twenty-six guns, manned by 500 troops under Col. Moultrie, and on June 28 the British made an attack by land and water, and were compelled to withdraw after a ten-hours’ conflict. It was during this fight that Sergeant Jasper distinguished himself by replacing the flag, which had been shot away upon the bastion on a new staff. His master, James James, manned one of the guns in this fight, and Jim, the subject of this sketch, with four other slaves, were employed around the fort as general laborers. Jim followed his master throughout the war, and was with 14 15 Gen. Moultrie at Port Royal, S. C., Feb. 3, 1779, when Moultrie defeated the combined British forces of Prevost and Campbell. His master was surrendered by Gen. Lincoln at Charleston, S. C., on Feb. 12, 1780, to the British forces, and this ends Jim’s military career. He remembers of the rejoicing in 1792 throughout the country in consequence of Washington’s election to the Presidency, he then being 40 years of age. In this year his first master died, aged about 60 years. Jim then became the property of “Marse Henry” (Henry James), owning large estates and about thirty slaves near Charleston. On account of having raised “Marse Henry,” Jim was a special favorite with his master, and was allowed to do as he chose. His second master, Henry, died in 1815, about 55 years of age, and Jim, now at 63 years of age, became the property of James James, Henry’s second son. In 1833 the railroad from Charleston to Savannah was completed, then the longest railroad in the world, and Jim, with his master, took a trip over the road, and was shown special favors on account of his age, now 81. James James was ten years of age at his father’s death, and when he became of age he inherited large estates, slaves, etc., among whom were “old Uncle Jim” and his family. James James in 1855 moved to Texas with all his slaves. He desired that his slaves should be free at his death, and in 1858 moved into Mexico, so that they could be free before his death. James returned to the United States and died in Texas, and in 1865, after there were no longer slaves in the United States, Uncle Jim’s children and grandchildren returned to the United States. Five years ago, at the age of 130, Jim could do light chores, but subsisted mostly by contributions from the citizens, but for the past two years, not being able to walk, he remains for the most part in his little jacal, his wants being supplied by generous neighbors. The rheumatism in his legs prevents him from walking. So many cases of great longevity have recently been announced, that their detailed publication would be tedious. The New York Sun says: “A town in Cuba prides itself upon being the home of eleven women, each of whom is over 100 years of age.” According to the census of Germany, December, 1875, there were 160 persons over 100 years of age, of whom there was one woman of 115 years, and another of 117, one man of 118, and another of 120. Our own country has a better record of longevity than this. Let us rest content with the fact that the world has many centenarians, and that we too are free to live a hundred years, if our ancestors have done their duty in transmitting a good constitution, and we have done our duty in preserving it. Miscellaneous Intelligence. An Important Discovery.—In the New Education I have endeavored to show that there are qualities of the atmosphere which science has not yet recognized, which are of the highest importance to human health, and that an atmosphere may have vitalizing or devitalizing qualities with apparently the same chemical composition, because some vitalizing element has been added or subtracted. This vitalizing element, though analogous to electricity, is not identical with it. We find it absent in a room that has been recently plastered, and is not quite dry. Sleeping in such a room is positively dangerous. We find the same negative depressing condition wherever evaporation has been going on in the absence of sunlight, which appears to supply the needful element. As evaporation carries off this vitalizing element, precipitation or condensation seems to supply it, especially precipitation from the upper regions of the atmosphere to which it is carried by evaporation, and to which it is supplied by sunshine. Hence we experience a delightful freshness of the atmosphere after a summer shower, or on a frosty morning, when the moisture is not only precipitated, but condensed into frost. Frost gives off more of the exhilarating element of watery vapor than dew, because it is a step farther in condensation. Hence there is a healthful, bracing influence in cold climates, where all the moisture is firmly frozen, and a very unpleasant, depressing influence when a thaw begins. The vicinity of melting snow, or a melting iceberg, is unpleasant and promotive of catarrh and pulmonary diseases. The pleasant influence of the fresh shower ceases when the fallen moisture begins to...