CURIOSITIES RESPECTING MAN.—(Continued.)

Instances of Extraordinary Gluttony.

Habitual gluttons may be reckoned among the monsters of nature, and even punishable for endeavouring to bring a famine into the places where they live. King James I. when a man was presented to him who could eat a whole sheep at one meal, asked, “What work could he do more than another man?” and being answered, “He could not do so much,” said, “Hang him, then; for it is unfit a man should live, that eats as much as twenty men, and cannot do so much as one.”

The emperor Clodius Albinus devoured more than a bushel of apples at once. He ate 500 figs to his breakfast, 100 peaches, 10 melons, 20lbs. of grapes, 100 gnat-snappers, and 400 oysters.

Hardi Canute, the last of the Danish kings in England, was so great a glutton, that an historian calls him Bocca di Porco, “Swine’s-mouth.” His tables were covered four times a day with the most costly viands that either the air, sea, or land, could furnish; and as he lived he died; for, revelling at a banquet at Lambeth, he fell down dead.

One Phagon, in the reign of Aurelianus, at one meal, ate a whole boar, 100 loaves of bread, a sheep, and a pig, and drank above three gallons of wine.

One Mallet, a counsellor at law, in the reign of Charles I. ate at one time a dinner provided in Westminster for 30 men. His practice not being sufficient to supply him with better meat, he fed generally on offals, ox livers, hearts, &c. He lived to near 60 years of age, but during the seven last years of his life ate as moderately as other men.

Among the many accounts of extraordinary eaters, there are, perhaps, none that have exceeded those of Nicholas Wood, of Harrison, in Kent, related in Fuller’s Worthies, p. 86, whose enormous appetite appears to exceed all probability.

He ate at one meal a whole sheep, of sixteen shillings price, raw; at another time, thirty dozen of pigeons. At Sir William Sidley’s, in the same county, he ate as much victuals as would have sufficed thirty men. At Lord Wotton’s mansion-house, in Kent, he devoured, at one dinner, 84 rabbits, which, at the rate of half a rabbit a man, would have served 168 men. He ate to his breakfast 18 yards of black-pudding. He devoured at one meal a whole hog; and after it, being accommodated with fruit, he ate three pecks of damsons.

Gluttony is a most degrading vice. Be sober; be temperate; be virtuous; for

Health consists with temperance alone.
And peace, O Virtue! peace is all thy own.
Pope.

We shall, with the readers permission, now introduce some Extraordinary Instances of Fasting.

A full account of a very uncommon case is given in the Phil. Trans, vol. lxvii. part I. Janet M‘Leod, an inhabitant in the parish of Kincardine, in Ross-shire, continued healthy till she was fifteen years of age, when she had a pretty severe epileptic fit; after this she had an interval of health for four years, and then another epileptic fit, which continued a whole day and a night. A few days afterwards she was seized with a fever, which continued with violence several weeks, and from which she did not perfectly recover for some months. At this time she lost the use of her eyelids; so that she was under the necessity of keeping them open with the fingers of one hand, whenever she wanted to look about her. In other respects she continued in pretty good health; only she periodically spit up blood in pretty large quantities, and at the same time it flowed from the nose. This discharge continued several years; but at last it ceased; and soon after she had a third epileptic fit, and after that a fever, from which she recovered slowly. Six weeks after the crisis, she stole out of the house unknown to her parents, who were busied in their harvest work, and bound the sheaves of a ridge before she was observed. In the evening she took to her bed, complaining much of her heart (probably meaning her stomach) and her head. From that time she never rose for five years, but was occasionally lifted out of bed. She seldom spoke a word, and took so little food, that it seemed scarcely sufficient to support a sucking infant. Even this small quantity was taken by compulsion; and at last, about Whitsunday, 1763, she totally refused every kind of food or drink. Her jaws now became so fast locked, that it was with the greatest difficulty her father was able to open her teeth a little, in order to admit a small quantity of gruel or whey; but of this so much generally run out at the corners of her mouth, that they could not be sensible any had been swallowed. About this time they got some water from a noted medical spring in Brae-Mar, some of which they attempted to make her swallow, but without effect. They continued their trials, however, for three mornings; rubbing her throat with the water which ran out at the corners of her mouth. On the third morning, during the operation, she cried out, “Give me more water;” and swallowed with ease all that remained in the bottle. She spoke no more intelligibly for a year, though she continued to mutter some words, for 14 days, which her parents only understood. She continued to reject all kinds of food and drink till July, 1765. At this time her sister thought, by some signs she made, that she wanted her jaws opened; and this being done, not without violence, she called intelligibly for some liquid, and drank with ease about an English pint of water. Her father then asked why she would not make some signs when she wanted to drink? To which she answered,—why should she, when she had no desire? It was now supposed that she had regained the faculty of speech; and her jaws were kept open for about three weeks, by means of a wedge. But in four or five days she became totally silent, and the wedge was removed, because it made her lips sore. She still, however, continued sensible; and when her eyelids were opened, knew every body. This could be guessed from the signs she made. By continuing their attempts to force open her jaws, two of the under fore teeth were driven out; and of this opening her parents endeavoured to avail themselves, by putting some thin nourishing drink into her mouth, but without effect, as it always returned by the corners. Sometimes they thought of thrusting a little dough of oatmeal through this gap of the teeth, which she would retain a few seconds, and then return with something like a straining to vomit, without one particle going down. Nor were the family sensible of any thing like swallowing for four years, excepting the small draught of Brae-Mar water, and an English pint of common water. For the last three years she had no natural discharge, except that once or twice a week she passed a few drops of water.

In this situation she was visited by Dr. Mackenzie, who communicated the account to the Royal Society. He found her not at all emaciated; her knees were bent, and the hamstrings tight, so that her heels were drawn up behind her body. She slept much, and was very quiet; but when awake, kept a constant whimpering like a new-born weakly infant. She never could remain a moment on her back, but always fell to one side or another; and her chin was drawn close to her breast, nor could it by any force be moved backwards. The Doctor paid his first visit in October, 1767; and five years afterwards, viz, in October, 1772, was induced to pay her a second visit, by hearing that she was recovering, and had begun to eat and drink. The account given him was most extraordinary.

Her parents one day returning from their country labours, (having left their daughter fixed to her bed as usual,) were greatly surprised to find her sitting upon her hams, in a part of the house opposite to her bed-place, spinning with her mother’s distaff. All the food she took at that time was only to crumble a little oat or barley cake in the palm of her hand, as if to feed a chicken. She put little crumbs of this into the gap of her teeth; rolled them about for some time in her mouth; and then sucked out of the palm of her hand a little water, whey, or milk; and this only once or twice a day, and even that by compulsion. She never attempted to speak; her jaws were fast locked, and her eyes shut. On opening her eyelids, the balls were found to be turned up under the edge of the os frontis; her countenance was ghastly, her complexion pale, and her whole person emaciated. She seemed sensible and tractable, except in taking food. This she did with the utmost reluctance, and even cried before she yielded. The great change of her looks, Dr. Mackenzie attributed to her spinning flax on the distaff, which exhausted too much of the saliva; and therefore he recommended to her parents to confine her totally to the spinning of wool. In 1775, she was visited again, and found to be greatly improved in her looks as well as strength; her food was also considerably increased in quantity; though even then she did not take more than would be sufficient to sustain an infant of two years of age.

In the Gentleman’s Magazine, for 1789, p. 1211, is recorded the death of one Caleb Elliot, a visionary enthusiast, who meant to have fasted 40 days, and actually survived 16 without food, having obstinately refused sustenance of every kind.

At the same time that we should guard against superstitious fasting, we should be cautious not to transgress the bounds of temperance. Occasional abstinence is useful and praiseworthy, and we shall now give some instances of The Wonders of Abstinence.

Many wonders are related of the effects of abstinence, in the cure of several disorders, and in protracting the term of life. The noble Venetian, Cornaro, after all imaginable means had proved vain, so that his life was despaired of at 40, recovered, and lived to near 100, by mere dint of abstinence; as he himself gives account. It is indeed surprising to what a great age the primitive Christians of the East, who retired from the persecutions into the deserts of Arabia and Egypt, lived, healthful and cheerful, on a very little food. Cassian assures us, that the common rate for 24 hours was 12 ounces of bread, and mere water; with this, St. Anthony lived 105 years; James the hermit, 104; Arsenius, tutor of the Emperor Arcadius, 123; S. Epiphanius, 115; Simeon, the Stylite, 112; and Romauld, 130. Indeed, we can match these instances of longevity at home. Buchanan writes, that one Lawrence preserved himself to 140, by force of temperance and labour; and Spottiswood mentions one Kentigern, afterwards called St. Mongah, or Mungo, who lived to 185, by the same means. Abstinence, however, is to be recommended only as it means a proper regimen; for in general it must have bad consequences, when observed without a due regard to constitution, age, strength, &c.

According to Dr. Cheyne, most of the chronical diseases, the infirmities of old age, and the short lives of Englishmen, are owing to repletion; and may be either cured, prevented, or remedied, by abstinence: but then the kinds of abstinence which ought to obtain, either in sickness or health, are to be deduced from the laws of diet and regimen. Among the brute creation, we see extraordinary instances of long abstinence. The serpent kind, in particular, bear abstinence to a wonderful degree. Rattlesnakes are reported to have subsisted many months without any food, yet still retained their vigour and fierceness. Dr. Shaw speaks of a couple of cerastes, (a sort of Egyptian serpents,) which had been kept five years in a bottle close corked, without any sort of food, unless a small quantity of sand, wherein they coiled themselves up in the bottom of the vessel, may be reckoned as such: yet when he saw them, they had newly cast their skins, and were as brisk and lively as if just taken.

But it is even natural for divers species of creatures to pass four, five, or six months’ every year, without either eating or drinking. Accordingly, the tortoise, bear, dormouse, serpent, &c. are observed regularly to retire, at those seasons, to their respective cells, and hide themselves,—some in the caverns of rocks or ruins; others dig holes under ground; others get into woods, and lay themselves up in clefts of trees; others bury themselves under water, &c. And yet these animals are found as fat and fleshy after some months’ abstinence as before.—A gentleman (Phil. Trans. No. 194.) weighed his tortoise several years successively, at its going to earth in October, and coming out again in March; and found that, of four pounds four ounces, it only used to lose about one ounce.—Indeed, we have instances of men passing several months as strictly abstinent as other creatures. In particular, the records of the Tower mention a Scotchman imprisoned for felony, and strictly watched in that fortress for six weeks; in all which time he took not the least sustenance; for which he had his pardon. Numberless instances of extraordinary abstinence, particularly from morbid causes, are to be found in the different periodical Memoirs, Transactions, Ephemerides, &c. It is to be added, that, in most instances of extraordinary human abstinence related by naturalists, there were said to have been apparent marks of a texture of blood and humour, much like that of the animals above mentioned; though it is not an improbable opinion, that the air itself may furnish something for nutrition. It is certain, there are substances of all kinds, animal, vegetable, &c. floating in the atmosphere, which must be continually taken in by respiration. And that an animal body may be nourished thereby, is evident from the instance of vipers, which, if taken when first brought forth, and kept from every thing but air, will yet grow very considerably in a few days. The eggs of lizards, also, are observed to increase in bulk after they are produced, though there be nothing to furnish the increment but air alone, in like manner as the eggs or spawn of fish grow and are nourished by the water. And hence, say some, it is, that cooks, turnspit dogs, &c. though they eat but little, yet are usually fat.

We shall next offer the reader a few remarks on Sleep-Walking.

Many instances are related of persons who were addicted to this practice. A very remarkable one has been published from a report made to the Physical Society of Lausanne, by a committee of gentlemen appointed to examine a young man who was accustomed to walk in his sleep.

The disposition to sleep-walking seems, in the opinion of this committee, to depend on a particular affection of the nerves, which both seizes and quits the patient during sleep. Under the influence of this affection, the imagination represents to him the objects that struck him while awake, with as much force as if they really affected his senses; but it does not make him perceive any of those that are actually presented to his senses, except in so far as they are connected with the dreams which engross him at the time. If, during this state, the imagination has no determined purpose, he receives the impression of objects as if he were awake; only, however, when the imagination is excited to bend its attention towards them. The perceptions obtained in this state are very accurate, and, when once received, the imagination renews them occasionally with as much force as if they were again acquired by means of the senses. Lastly, these academicians suppose, that the impressions received during this state of the senses, disappear entirely when the person awakes, and do not return till the recurrence of the same disposition in the nervous system.

Our next article is, A Curious Account of the Sleeping Woman of Dunninald, near Montrose.

The following narrative was communicated to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, by Dr. Brewster.

Margaret Lyall, aged 21, daughter of John Lyall, labourer at Dunninald, was first seized with a sleeping fit on the 27th of June, 1815, which continued to the 30th of June; next morning she was again found in a deep sleep: in this state she remained for seven days, without motion, food, or the use of any animal function. But at the end of this time, by the moving of her left hand, and by plucking at the coverlet of the bed and pointing to her mouth, a wish for food being understood, it was given her. This she took; but still remained in her lethargic state till Tuesday the 8th of August, being six weeks from the time she was seized with the lethargy, without appearing to be awake, except on the afternoon of Friday the 30th of June. During the first two weeks, her pulse was generally about 50, the third week about 60, and previous to her recovery, at 70 to 72. Though extremely feeble for some days after her recovery, she gained strength so rapidly, that before the end of August, she began to work at the harvest, on the lands of Mr. Arkley, and continued without inconvenience to perform her labour.

The account is drawn up by the clergyman of the parish, and is accompanied with the medical report of the surgeons who attended; to whose attestations are added those of Mr. Arkley, the proprietor of Dunninald, and Lyall, the father; and the statement is, in every respect, entitled to the fullest credit.

We shall proceed to some Instances of Extraordinary Dreams.

The following account is by no means intended either to restore the reign of superstition, or to induce the reader to put faith in the numberless ridiculous interpretations, given by some pretenders to divination, of the ordinary run of dreams. The absurdity of the many traditional rules, laid down by such persons; such as, that dreaming of eggs prognosticates anger; of the washing of linens, forebodes flitting; of green fields, sickness; of hanging, honour; of death, marriage; of fish, children; and of raw flesh, death, &c. &c. can only be exceeded by the folly of those who put faith in such fooleries. But instances have occurred of particular persons, whose veracity cannot be doubted, having dreams of so singular a nature, and so literally and exactly fulfilled, that it may be well to mention one or two of them, for the entertainment, at least, of the reader, if they should not contribute to his improvement.—

Mr. Richard Boyle, manufacturer, residing in Stirling, about 1781, dreamed that he saw a beautiful young woman, with a winding sheet over her arm, whose image made a deep impression on his mind. Upon telling his mother the dream, she said, you will probably marry that woman, and if you do, she will bury you. Going to Glasgow in 1783, he met with a young woman in a friend’s house, exactly resembling the person he had dreamed of; and notwithstanding the disheartening interpretation he had got, and the additional discouraging circumstance told him, that she was already engaged with another young man, was sure she was to be his wife, and did not give up his pursuit till he made her his own. The melancholy part of his dream was soon fulfilled. He lived only 15 months with her; a short, but happy period. His widow, during his life, dreamed with equal exactness of her second husband, whom she did not see till three years afterwards, when the sight of him, at church, in Montrose, disturbed her devotion so much, upon recollecting her dream, that she hardly knew a word the minister said afterwards. Within less than two months, they were introduced to each other; and within four, were married.—Another young lady had dreamed so often, and so particularly, about the gentleman who afterwards married her, that at their first meeting, she started back, as if she had seen a ghost.—The editors of the Encyclopedia Perthensis declare they knew the parties concerned in the foregoing relations. But these instances of prophetic dreams, they observe, are trifling, compared to one narrated in the Weekly Mirror, printed at Edinburgh, in 1781, and signed Verax; and which, they say, they quote the more readily, as also, from personal acquaintance with the parties, they know the narrative to be true:

“In June, 1752, Mr. Robert Aikenhead, farmer, in Denstrath, of Arnhall, in the Mearns, about 5 miles north of Brechin, and 7 from Montrose, went to a market called Tarrenty-fair, where he had a large sum of money to receive. His eldest son, Robert, a boy about 8 years of age, was sent to take care of the cattle, and, happening to lie down upon a grassy bank before sun-set, fell fast asleep. Although the boy had never been far from home, he was immediately carried in his imagination to Tarrenty market, where, he dreamed, that his father, after receiving the money, set out on his return home, and was followed all the way by two ill-looking fellows, who, when he had got to the western dykes of Inglis-Mauldy, (the seat of the then Lord Halkerton, afterwards Earl of Kintore,) and little more than a mile from home, attacked and attempted to rob him. Whereupon the boy thought he ran to his assistance, and, when he came within a gun-shot of the place, called out some people, who were just going to bed, who put the robbers to flight. He immediately awoke in a fright, and, without waiting to consider whether it was a vision or a reality, ran as fast as he could to the place he had dreamed of, and had no sooner reached it, than he saw his father in the very spot and situation he had seen in his dream, defending himself with his stick against the assassins. He therefore immediately realized his own part of the visionary scene, by roaring out, Murder! which soon brought out the people, who running up to Mr. Aikenhead’s assistance, found him victor over one of the villains, whom he had previously knocked down with a stone, after they had pulled him off his horse; but almost overpowered by the other, who repeatedly attempted to stab him with a sword; against which he had no other defence than his stick and his hands, which were considerably mangled by grasping the blade. Upon sight of the country people, the villain who had the sword ran off; but the other not being able, was apprehended and lodged in gaol. Meantime there was no small hue and cry after young Robert, whose mother missing him, and finding the cattle among the corn, was in the utmost anxiety, concluding that he had fallen into some water or peat moss. But her joy and surprise were equally great, when her husband returned with the boy, and told her how miraculously both his money and life had been preserved by his son’s dream; although she was at first startled at seeing her husband’s hands bloody.

“To those who deny the existence of a God, (adds the writer,) or the superintendence of a divine providence, the above narrative will appear as fabulous as any story in Ovid. To those who measure the greatness and littleness of events by the arbitrary rules of human pride and vanity, it will perhaps appear incredible that such a miracle should have been wrought for the preservation of the life of a country farmer. But all who found their opinions upon the unerring rule of right and truth, which assures us that a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without the permission of our heavenly Father, (and who know, that in the sight of Him, with whom there is no respect of persons or dignities, the life of the greatest monarch on earth, and that of the lowest of his subjects, are of equal value,) will laugh at such silly objections, when opposed to well-attested facts. That the above is one, could be attested upon oath, were it necessary, by Mr. and Mrs. Aikenhead, from whom I had all the particulars above narrated about 15 months ago.—Edinburgh, March 12, 1781.”—Indeed, whoever can persuade himself that such facts as are stated above, can happen by chance, may easily adopt the system of those philosophers, who tell us that the universe was formed by the fortuitous concourse of atoms.

The title of our next subject is curious,—Poetical, Grammatical, and Scientific Deaths.

The Emperor Adrian, dying, made that celebrated address to his soul, which is so happily translated by Pope, in the following words:

Vital spark of heav’nly flame,
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame.
Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister spirit, come away.
What is this absorbs me quite?
Steals my senses, shuts my sight?
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death!
The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?

Lucan, when he had his veins opened by order of Nero, expired reciting a passage from his Pharsalia, in which he has described the wound of a dying soldier. Petronius did the same thing on the same occasion.

Patris, a poet of Caen, perceiving himself expiring, composed some verses which are justly admired. In this little poem he relates a dream, in which he appeared to be placed next to a beggar, when, having addressed him in the haughty strain he would probably have employed on this side of the grave, he received the following reprimand:

“Here all are equal; now thy lot is mine!
I on my dunghill, as thou art on thine.”

Des Barreaux, it is said, wrote, on his death-bed, that sonnet which is well known, and which is translated in the “Spectator.”

Margaret of Austria, when she was nearly perishing in a storm at sea, composed for herself the following epitaph in verse:

“Beneath this tomb is high-born Margaret laid,
Who had two husbands, and yet died a maid.”

She was betrothed to Charles VIII. of France, who forsook her. Being next intended for the Spanish Infant, in her voyage to Spain she wrote these lines in a storm.Roscommon, at the moment he expired, with an energy of voice (says his biographer) that expressed the most fervent devotion, uttered two lines of his own version of “Dies IrÆ!”

Waller, in his last moments, repeated some lines from Virgil: and Chaucer took his farewell of all human vanities by a moral ode, entitled, “A ballad made by Geffrey Chauycer upon his dethe-bedde lying in his grete anguysse.”

“The muse that has attended my course (says the dying Gleim, in a letter to Klopstock[4]) still hovers round my steps to the very verge of the grave.” A collection of songs, composed by old Gleim on his death-bed, it is said, were intended to be published.

Chatellard, a French gentleman, beheaded in Scotland, for having loved the Queen, and even for having attempted her honour, Brantome says, would not have any other viaticum than a poem of Ronsard. When he ascended the scaffold, he took the hymns of this poet, and for his consolation read that on death; which, he says, is well adapted to conquer its fear. He preferred the poems of Ronsard to either a prayer-book or his confessor: such was his passion.

The Marquis of Montrose, when he was condemned by his judges to have his limbs nailed to the gates of four cities, the brave soldier said that, “he was sorry he had not limbs sufficient to be nailed to all the gates of the cities in Europe, as monuments of his loyalty.” As he proceeded to his execution, he put this thought into beautiful verse.

Philip Strozzi, when imprisoned by Cosmo the First, great Duke of Tuscany, was apprehensive of the danger to which he might expose his friends, (who had joined in his conspiracy against the duke,) from the confessions which the rack might extort from him. Having attempted every exertion for the liberty of his country, he considered it no crime therefore to die. He resolved on suicide. With the point of the sword, with which he killed himself, he first engraved on the mantle-piece of the chimney, this verse of Virgil:

Exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor.
Rise, some avenger, from our blood!

Such persons realize that beautiful fiction of the ancients, who represent the swans of Cayster singing at their death; and have been compared to the nightingale singing with a thorn on its breast.

The following anecdotes are of a different complexion: they may perhaps excite a smile. We have given them the title of Grammatical Deaths.

Pere Bouhours was a French grammarian, who had been justly accused of paying too scrupulous an attention to the minutiÆ of letters. He was more solicitous of his words than his thoughts. It is said, that when he was dying, he called out to his friends (a correct grammarian to the last,) “Je Vas, ou je Vais mourir; l’un ou l’autre se dit!”

When Malherbe was dying, he reprimanded his nurse for making use of a solecism in her language! And when his confessor represented to him the felicities of a future state in low expressions, the dying critic interrupted him: “Hold your tongue,” he said, “your wretched style only makes me out of conceit with them!”

Several persons of science have died in a scientific manner.—Haller, the greatest of physicians, beheld his end approach with the utmost composure. He kept feeling his pulse to the last moment, and when he found that life was almost gone, he turned to his brother physician, and observed, “My friend, the artery ceases to beat,”—and almost instantly expired.

De Lagny, who was intended by his friends for the study of the law, having fallen on an Euclid, found it so congenial to his disposition, that he devoted himself to mathematics. In his last moments, when he retained no further recollection of the friends who surrounded his bed, one of them, perhaps to make a philosophical experiment, thought proper to ask him the square of 12; the dying mathematician instantly, and perhaps without knowing that he answered it, replied, “144.”

The following lines, from the pen of Mrs. Barbauld, in an address to the Deity, express the desires and hopes of a real Christian in the contemplation of death:

“O when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my swimming eye;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate,
I stand, and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this transitory scene
With decent triumph and a look serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv’d to thee, in thee to die!”

The following article is not of a pleasing description, but nevertheless proper to be inserted in “The Book of Curiosities.” It is Anthropophagi, or Men-eaters:

The Cyclops, the Lestrygons, and Scylla, are all represented in Homer as Anthropophagi, or man-eaters, and the female phantoms, Circe and the Syrens, first bewitched with a show of pleasure, and then destroyed. This, like the other parts of Homer’s poetry, had a foundation in the manners of the times preceding his own. It was still in many places the age spoken of by Orpheus,

“When men devour’d each other like the beasts,
Gorging on human flesh.”History gives us divers instances of persons driven by excess of hunger to eat their own relations. And also out of revenge and hatred, where soldiers, in the heat of battle, have been known to be carried to such an excess of rage, as to tear their enemies with their teeth.

The violence of love has sometimes produced the same effect as the excess of hatred.

Among the Essedonian Scythians, when a man’s father died, his neighbours brought him several beasts, which they killed, mixed up their flesh with that of the deceased, and made a feast.

Among the Massageti, when any person grew old, they killed him, and ate his flesh; but if the party died of sickness, they buried him, esteeming him unhappy.

Idolatry and superstition have caused the eating more human flesh, than both love and hatred put together.

There are few nations but have offered human victims to their deities; and it was an established custom to eat part of the sacrifices they offered.

It appears pretty certain, from Dr. Hawkesworth’s account of the voyages to the South Seas, that the inhabitants of New Zealand ate the bodies of their enemies. Mr. Petit has a learned dissertation on the nature and manners of the Anthropophagi. Among other things, he disputes whether or no the Anthropophagi act contrary to nature? The philosophers, Diogenes, Chrysippus, and Zeno, followed by the whole body of Stoics, held it a very reasonable thing for men to eat each other.

According to Sextus Empiricus, the first laws were those made to prevent men from eating each other, as had been done until that time.

The Greek writers represent Anthropophagi as universal before Orpheus.

Leonardus Floroventius informs us, that having fed a hog with hog’s flesh, and a dog with dog’s flesh, he found a repugnance in nature to such food; the former lost all his bristles; the latter its hair, and the whole body broke out in blotches.

If even this horrid practice of eating human flesh originates from hunger, still it must be perpetuated from revenge: as death must lose much of its horror among those who are accustomed to eat the dead; and where there is little horror at the sight of death, there must be less repugnance to murder.

We shall conclude this chapter with An Account of a Wild Man, given by M. Le Roy.

In 1774, a wild man was discovered in the neighbourhood of Yuary. This man, who inhabited the rocks near a forest, was very tall, covered with hair like a bear, very nimble, and of a gay humour. He neither did, nor seemed to intend, harm to any body. He often visited the cottages, without ever attempting to carry off any thing. He had no knowledge of bread, milk, or cheese. His greatest amusement was to see the sheep running, and to scatter them; and he testified his pleasure at this sight by loud fits of laughter, but never attempted to hurt them. When the shepherds (as was frequently the case) let loose their dogs at him, he fled with the swiftness of an arrow, and never allowed the dogs to come too near him. One morning he came to the cottage of some workmen, and one of them endeavouring to catch him by the leg, he laughed heartily, and then made his escape. He seemed to be about thirty years of age. As the forest is very extensive, and had a communication with a vast wood that belongs to the Spanish territories, it is natural to suppose that this solitary, but cheerful creature, had been lost in his infancy, and subsisted on herbs.