frame; when I examine the subject, and point out, for the general benefit of all mankind, as well as for my own satisfaction, all the frail and imperfect parts in the anatomy of the human body?"

The more extensive our knowledge of human nature is, and the better acquainted we make ourselves with that strong influence which mind and body mutually exert, the greater will be the indulgence towards the errors of our species, and the more will our affections be enlarged. How slight are those alterations in health-almost imperceptible to the ordinary observer-which have produced or aggravated the gravest mental infirmities! And how incapable is he of forming a just idea of them, who is unable, not only to detect, but to estimate the importance of those apparent trivial physical derangements with which they are so intimately connected.

It would be a folly to imagine that an ordinary disease exerts such an absolute dominion over the mind, that the moral perceptions are overpowered or perverted, and that the individual ceases to be responsible for his errors. When the intemperate man "puts an enemy into his mouth to steal away his senses," and under its maddening influence commits a violent assault upon his neighbour, no one doubts but that a state of temporary insanity was productive of

the offence; nevertheless, the offender knew that such insanity was the inevitable consequence of intemperance, and he is punished for it accordingly.

The literary man who indulges in habits prejudicial to his health, cannot be supposed ignorant of the effects that must arise from excessive application; and who can say he is guiltless of the infirmities he drags upon him?

There is a case in our criminal records of a thief going out in the middle of the night to rob a hen-roost, and being attacked by a dog, he fired at the animal, and chanced to kill a servant of its owner, who had concealed himself behind the kennel. There was no malice; the mischief was unpremeditated, but the last degree of violence was incidental to the first, and the law did not hold him guiltless of the murder.

The studious man sets out with stealing an hour or two from his ordinary repose: sometimes perhaps more; and finishes by devoting whole nights to his pursuits. But this night-work leads to exhaustion, and the universal sense of sinking in every organ that accompanies it, suggests the use of stimulants, most probably of wine; alcohol, however, in some shape or other. And what is the result?-why, the existence that is passed in a constant circle of excitement and ex

haustion, is shortened, or rendered miserable by such alternations; and the victim becomes accessary to his own sufferings.

These are, indeed, extreme cases, yet are they cases in point; in all, are the offenders held responsible for their crimes or errors, but nevertheless are they entitled to our pity.

In a word, if the literary man consume his strength and spirits in his study, forego all necessary exercise, keep his mind continually on the stretch, and even, at his meals, deprive the digestive organs of that nervous energy which is then essential to their healthy action; if the proteiform symptoms of dyspepsia at last make their appearance, and the innumerable anomalous sufferings which, under the name of nervous and stomachic ailments, derange the viscera, and rack the joints of the invalid; if by constant application, the blood is continually determined to the brain, and the calibre of the vessels enlarged to the extent of causing pressure or effusion in that vital organ; in any case, if the mischief there is allowed to proceed slowly and steadily, perhaps for years, (as in the case of Swift,) giving rise to a long train of nervous miseries-to hypochondria in its gloomiest form, or mania in its wildest mood, or paralysis in the expressionless aspect of fatuity, (that frequent termination of the literary career;)

who can deny that the sufferer has, in a great measure, drawn the evil on himself, but who will not admit that his infirmities of mind and body are entitled to indulgence and compassion?

The errors of genius demand no less. "A vigorous mind," says Burke, "is as necessarily accompanied by violent passions, as a great fire with great heat." And to such a mind, whatever be its frailties, the just and the charitable will be inclined to deem it, like poor Burns,

"Misled by fancy's meteor ray,
By passion driven,

But yet the light that led astray,
Was light from heaven."

VOL. I.

3

CHAPTER II.

ADVANTAGES OF LITERARY PURSUITS.

A DISTINCTION has been made between literary men and men of letters; the former title has been given to authors, the latter to the general scholar and lover of science.

In these volumes the term literary is applied to all persons who make books the business of their lives, or who are addicted to studious habits; and our observations apply to those who think too much on any subject, whether that subject be connected with legal, polemical, or medical erudition.

Literature of late years has become so general a pursuit, that it is no small stock of knowledge which enables a man to keep pace with public information: go into what society we may, we are sure of meeting some individual with all the honours of recent authorship thick upon him.

It is the purport of this chapter to point out the use and the abuse of studious habits and literary temperaments. Perhaps the greatest of the advantages are those which are least ob