Chapter 21

“In each case, the black treacly fluid obtained by thus cutting the various portions of the lung (more especially the posterior and inferior portions of the lower lobes), and by slitting up the bronchial tubes, was evaporated to dryness, and the residuum being broken up and subjected to a red heat in a porcelain tube retort, behaved precisely as coal under similar circumstances,i.e.it evolved a smoke-like gaseous product, which, on being slightly condensed, deposited hydro-sulphide of ammonium and coal tar, and being thus purified, burnt in all respects like the well-known compounds of the two carbides of hydrogen (common gas).”

Dr. Gregory, of Edinburgh, many years since, by destructive analysis, came to the same conclusion respecting the carbonaceous nature of this deposit. The presence of this foreign body in the lungs leads to the whole train of pulmonary diseases. Asthma, bronchitis, and pneumonia are but too frequent, and we are consequently not surprised to hear that the aggregate amount of sickness experienced by this class, for the period of life from twenty to sixty, is 95 weeks, or 67 per cent, more than the general average.

Rheumatism, leading to heart disease, is another very common complaint of the miner. Indeed, all the conditions of ill-managed mines seem ready prepared for the propagation of this disease. When mines are driven to any considerable depth, the temperature proportionably increases, and 80 degrees of Fahrenheit is a common temperature at the end of workings, all the year round. After exposure to this oppressive atmosphere during the whole day, the collier perhaps suddenly emerges into the open air at the pit’s mouth, vitally depressed by his prolonged exertion, when the bitter wind is shaving the surface of the earth at a temperature much below freezing point. In the coal-field stretching from Valenciennes to Aix-la-Chapelle, the mines are made conspicuous a long way off by the presence of huge buildings, which enclose the machinery and the top of thepit. In these buildings apartments are prepared in which the colliers change their clothes before and after labour, and wash themselves in baths filled with hot water from the steam waste-pipe. The importance of this sanitary precaution is very great, inasmuch as colliers, like chimney-sweeps, are subject to a skin disease, in consequence of the begrimed condition of their skins. Lady Bassett has established these baths, we understand, at her mines at Camborne, in Cornwall; but we think that the enforcement of a sanitary act of such importance should not be left to the philanthropic tendencies of individuals, but should be required by the Government. If a provision of this kind were made compulsory, and stricter legislation with respect to ventilating mines were established, no doubt a vast amount of disease could be eliminated. It is estimated that the worst coal mines can be ventilated thoroughly at a cost of one penny per man per day, and that in well-constructed furnaces the consumption of one ton of coals per day at the bottom of an up-cast shaft will enable each collier to cut one ton of coals more per day with the same amount of exertion. Such being the case, there can be no excuse for asphyxiating the miners wholesale. Those proprietors of mines, who are only open to these breeches-pocket appeals, should know that it is their interest, in a pecuniary sense, to ventilate well, inasmuch as the preservative effect of pure air upon the wood brattrices, which form so expensive an item in mining, effects a saving of 80 per cent.

Our remarks hitherto have been directed entirely to coal mines and colliers, as these are by far the most extensive industrial occupations of the kind. The metalliferous mines, such as the tin and copper mines of Cornwall, and lead mines of Derbyshire, are in pretty much the same pestiferous condition, but in one particular they are still more destructive of life than coal mines. In the latter the tired workman is lifted from the depths of the mines to the surface by a rope. The Cornwall miner, on the other hand, has to carry his exhausted body in some cases thousands of feet up a series of steep ladders to the mouth of the mine. It has been estimated that manyminers have thus to make an exertion every night equal to climbing to the summit of Cader Idris, and this in an up-cast shaft used for the extraction of the foul air! The disastrous effect upon the already weary miner has long been known, yet in only a few of the great mines of Cornwall has the tireless arm of the steam-engine been called in to save him from this unnecessary labour. The machinery used is called a man-machine, and differs entirely from that employed in coal-pits. In place of a rope, a beam of wood or iron descends through the whole length of the shaft; this beam, at regular intervals of ten feet, has little platforms attached to it, sufficient to afford standing-room to a miner; at the sides of the shaft are similar platforms, at the same intervals. At every stroke of the engine the beam ascends or descends through the space of ten feet, consequently the miner has only to step from the fixed platform to the moving one to be lifted ten feet every time it ascends. In this manner as many as a hundred men are lifted at the same time several thousand feet in a few minutes, without any more exertion than is necessary to make a few score steps. This curious invention has materially benefited the miner, and where it is used there is a manifest absence of the heart disease, induced by the climbing of interminable ladders placed in an almost vertical position.

Dr. Greenhow, in his report on the prevalence of certain diseases in different districts of England and Wales, very clearly proves the deleterious nature of the lead-miner’s employment by the comparisons he makes between the death-rates of the men and women of Reeth and Alston, which are purely lead-mining districts. In the former, the lead-miners die at the rate of 2,037 per 100,000 of all ages, whilst their wives, sisters, and daughters, who are variously employed, die at the reduced rate of 1,711 per 100,000; in other words, lead-mining in this one typical district caused an excess of no less than 3·26 deaths in every 100,000 inhabitants; and if we make a comparison relative to the prevalence of pulmonary disease between the two sexes, above the age of twenty, we find the death-rate of the men is double that of the women. The evilinfluence of copper-mining on the male population is not quite so marked, but still it is apparent enough. Thus, in Redruth, in which this kind of labour is exclusively carried on, we find that in every 100,000 of population, 220 males die from pulmonary disease more than females; and in Penzance, which is exclusively a tin-mining district, the superior waste of male over female life, in the same population, of all ages, is 104.

The mason, like the miner, is particularly liable to suffer from the presence of irritating substances in the lungs. It has been asserted that in Edinburgh members of the craft rarely live more than fifty years. This is doubtless owing to the nature of the material they work upon. There is great reason to suppose that the degree of damage done to the delicate air-cells of the lung is to be measured by the nature of the particles inhaled. Thus, the ragged portions of granite detached by the chisel are much more likely to do harm than the less irregular dust of the bricklayer. In this manner we can account for the high rate of mortality said to exist among the masons of our northern metropolis. The scourers in the potteries exercise their fearful trade in an atmosphere loaded with pulverised flints, a mineral dust of the most distressing character: we are not surprised, therefore, to hear that in this process pulmonary disease is still more rampant than among the Edinburgh masons, and is little inferior to that of the dry grinders of Sheffield, who receive into their lungs jagged particles of steel as well as grindstone dust.[52]It will be unnecessary to consider all thetrades which are affected by dust, inasmuch as the artisans employed in them are similarly subjected to pulmonary affections, if not in a like degree. Thus millers are rendered consumptive and asthmatic by the floating meal of their mills; snuff-makers by the snuff which pervades the air of their places of work; pearl-button-makers suffer still more from the same cause; and the men of Sheffield who haft knives with cocoa-wood or ebony are affected with a disease exactly like the hay-asthma. The shoddy-grinders of the West Riding, who grind and break up rags in a machine called “a devil,” are subjected to what they term the shoddy fever, in consequence of the devil’s dust given off in the tearing process. The dressers and preparers of hair, especially of foreign hair, are speedily broken in health by the dust and stench produced by their operations.

The evil effects arising from the prosecution of these trades sink into insignificance, however, when compared with the destruction caused by the floating fluff of flax-mills. These mills employ children of tender years, who have to work in an atmosphere loaded with vegetable particles to such a degree, that in a measure it clouds the vision. The hecklers are the chief sufferers in this department of industry, especially the children, who are, many of them, forced to work the same time as adults—that is, as long as human nature can possibly hold out. We shall have more to say, however, when we come to consider the effects of bleaching and dyeing works, respecting those trades which exhaust the youthful powers of large portions of the working population, and thus do infinitely more damage to the race than the more curious diseases of smaller trades, which may be severe enough, but do not affect more than infinitesimal portions of the population.

It would be supposed that workers on decomposing vegetable and animal matter would suffer a sickness and mortality only inferior to the artisans subjected to the emanations of poisonous metals.A priori, we should say, for instance, that dustmen, night men, and the workers in sewers, would be amongst the most unhealthy of the working classes, and, indeed, routine sanitarians would summarily tell us that such must be the case. The begrimed and dusty scavenger, whose very name is a reproach, spends the best part of his life in clearing away the disgusting refuse of civilization; he has yet another duty to perform which brings him into still closer contact with unsavoury emanations. The lay-stall, or scavengers’ yard, is of course a huge collection of the sweepings of the streets, the refuse of the markets, and the night-soil and dust of the houses, but it is not allowed to remain in a fermenting and indiscriminate mass. Almost as soon as it is deposited, men, women, and boys are employed to sift and sort the heap; bones, glass, woollen and linen rags, old iron and other metals, have to be eliminated from the mass and set aside, and the coals and great cinders are extracted from the useless ashes by the “hill-men.” It would scarcely be possible to bring human life into closer contact with filth of every kind than we find it to be in the workers in these lay-stalls. Yet, strange to say, Dr. Guy, who has investigated their sanitary condition, finds them to be among the healthiest of our working population. “They are, with a very few exceptions,” he tells us, “a healthy-looking, ruddy-complexioned race;” that is, they wear their natural rouge under their artificial tint, reversing the more fashionable method of May Fair.

“One or two boys,” he tells us, “whom I saw at work, would have been excellent models for the artist.” Our London readers will perhaps remember to have seen troops of robust and rosy-looking young women, not perhaps in afternoon toilet, making their way, about five o’clock, from the Marble Arch across Hyde Park; these are the “hill-women,” chiefly Irish, trooping home to the rookeries of Westminster; their appearance quite confirms Dr. Guy’s views as to the healthfulappearance of these workers. The master scavengers, who live with all their families amid these heaps of dusty desolation, excite the admiration of this searcher after truth still more; and at last, breaking out of the calm unimpassioned manner which the philosophical statist, who deals only with general truths, is wont to impose upon himself, he thus fairly gives vent to his admiration for the genus dustman:—

“To conclude this account of the health of this very useful class of men, I will merely add that the score or so of master scavengers who were brought together on more than one occasion by the trial already alluded to (an indictment for nuisance against a lay-stall keeper), as the origin of these inquiries,are the healthiest set of men I have ever seen. I do not think, whether in town or country, such a body of men could be brought together, except by selection; and it is not going too far to assert of them, that if the comparison were limited to the inhabitants of London, or our large towns, no score of selected tradesmen could be found to match the same number of scavengers brought casually together.”

This is high praise, and doubtless deserved; but few people, however, would have suspected that Hygeia clasped so closely to her bosom the grimy scavenger in his filthy frock. Dr. Guy, however, gives us hard figures for his pleasant flourishes. If we compare the scavenger with other workmen placed under somewhat similar circumstances, he rises triumphant over them. Thus whilst the bricklayer’s labourer, generally a very poor Irishman, it is true, suffers from fever, a ratio of 35½ per cent., and the brickmaker 21 per cent., the scavenger experiences only 8 per cent. of illness from the same cause. This result does seem astonishing when we remember that sanitarians sometimes attribute so much illness to the presence of a neglected dust-heap; but as Dr. Guy very justly remarks, those emanations which may prove injurious when confined within a small space—and our houses, like bell glasses, cover and keep in numberless impurities—become innoxious when fully exposed to the air. We suspect, however, that the power of ashes to absorb noxious emanations of all kinds, is at the bottom of the striking immunity which the scavenger exhibits from all febrile complaints. Nightmen and sewer-men, again, are brought into direct communication with the most disgusting, and as the public are led to suppose, the most poisonous animal effluvia; they stir in the very nidus of fever, yet it has beenremarked by many observers that they are singularly exempt from this disease. Sir Anthony Carlisle tells us that out of fifty men employed in the sewers in his time, only three had had fever. Thakrah declares that out of eighteen examined by his assistant, only two had even slight disorders, and they informed him that appetite was increased by the effluvia; and finally Dr. Guy tells us that out of thirty-four nightmen examined by him, only one had had an attack of fever, and he only through being out of work for three weeks; he suffered, in short,from change of air, and perhaps want of food. Dr. Guy, in the little pamphlet we have already quoted from, states a most remarkable fact, illustrative of the changes of opinion, even amongst medical men, relative to the effects of snuffing sewer emanations. He says, that a gentleman who accompanied him in one of his inspections over a scavenger’s yard, informed him that, “he perfectly well recollects thirty years ago, when he was a lad, seeing as many as twelve patients directed by the faculty of that dayto walk round the shootsfor the night-soil on his father’s premises; and he appealed for confirmation of this statement to his brother, who said that he had seen scores of patients industriously inhaling this curious dose of physic.” Thakrah, who wrote his celebrated “Treatise on the Effects of Trades and Professions on Health,” about this period, tells us that the parents of consumptive youth, in his time, brought them up to the business of a butcher, in the hope of averting that formidable malady. In endeavouring to avoid Scylla, they fell into Charybdis, inasmuch as it is a well-ascertained fact that butchers, although exempt from consumption and scrofula, are very prone to inflammatory diseases. They are seldom ill, but when ill, it goes hard with them,—so much so, that, as a class, these jolly, red-faced men, the very pictures of their own beef, are but short-lived. The effects of animal emanations, and the contact of animal substances with the skin in protecting workmen from consumption, is a very remarkable circumstance. Tanners constantly at work among tan-pits, are rarely, we believe, attacked with phthisis; and those artisans in the woollen-manufacturetermed cloth-piecers, whose skins are smeared with oil in the course of the day, present a remarkable contrast to the workers in cotton factories,—their flesh being plump and rosy, and their muscles strong. Mr. Thompson of Perth, who has investigated this subject, found the weight of one hundred young persons, so employed, increased in three months 575 lbs., giving an average increase of 5¾ lbs., and in eight selected cases the gain during the same brief period averaged no less than 17 lbs. each person. The beneficial effect of this department of the woollen-manufacture is so well known, that in Yorkshire the better classes frequently send the delicate members of their families to the woollen-mills for the benefit of their health. The application of oil, especially of cod-liver oil, to the skin, has indeed been recommended to consumptive patients, as thereby a greater amount of carbonaceous material can be thrown into the system without deranging it than by any other. After having drawn attention to so many occupations which are positively injurious to artisans, it is at least gratifying to be able to point to one large and rapidly-increasing manufacture which is so clearly beneficial in its operations upon human health.

There is a class of artisans which suffers from the inhalation of poisonous matters into the lungs, like the grinders and the masons, &c., but the foreign matter here presents itself in the form of a subtle vapour, rather than in that of dust. We little think, when we strike a lucifer-match,—that incomparable product of civilization, whose inventor deserves a statue in every capital in Europe,—what suffering it may possibly have caused in its manufacture. The composition at the end of a match is composed of phosphorus combined with oxymuriate of potash and glue, made into a paste, and kept liquid by being placed over a heated metal plate. Into this composition the “dipper” dips the bundle of matches, and in doing so he is forced to inhale the vapour given off, which is strongly charged with phosphoric acid, the effect of which upon him is sometimes most disastrous. After a time he experiences most excruciating pains in the bones of the jaw, but principallyin the lower one; they begin to swell, a purulent discharge takes place, and, finally, the bone dies and comes away. Mr. Stanley, one of the surgeons of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, had a patient who thus lost the whole of the lower jaw. There appears to be considerable doubt whether the poison acts locally or constitutionally. One would naturally suppose that if the action were local, it would first take effect upon the bones of the nose, but, as far as the experience of surgery goes, the “dipper” always preserves his nose intact. That the poisonous fumes have a certain constitutional effect, the aspect of the workman at once declares; cadaverous in complexion, emaciated to a degree, and painfully nervous, he presents the appearance of a person suffering from the presence of some irritant poison in the blood. It certainly is very remarkable that phosphorus, which, in the form of phosphate of lime, is a very important constituent of bone, should have such an extraordinary effect upon it when received into the system in the manner we have described. We are not aware that this drug, when received into the stomach only, has ever produced the local effect noticed; but, without doubt, it is the quantity of the poisonous agent to which the workman is subjected, as he not only receives the fumes directly into his mouth and air-passages in the act of “dipping,” but the whole atmosphere of the factory becomes so impregnated with phosphorus, in consequence of its volatilization when the process of drying the matches is being proceeded with, that his clothes even become saturated to such an extent that in the dark they appear quite luminous. In Vienna, where enormous numbers of lucifer-matches are made, necrosis of the jaw is of common occurrence among the workmen; and the German physicians believe that the disease arises principally in persons of scrofulous habit, the periosteum or lining membrane of whose bones are peculiarly liable to take on inflammatory action, the death of the bone following as a matter of course. If this view of the case be true, all scrofulous persons should be warned from the employment, as dangerous, and in all cases employers should adopt every precaution in their power to prevent the recurrence ofsuch mischief to the employed. Mr. Stanley says that the oil of turpentine, which is a solvent of phosphorous, when exposed in saucers, absorbs the vapour which does so much mischief, and that its employment in a large lucifer-match factory in the neighbourhood of the London Hospital was attended with the happiest success. Thus we have another example of the power of the chemist to make the good elements of his craft do battle with the evil ones in the cause of humanity.

Another and more common instance, in which the workman is sacrificed to luxury, is the case of the water-gilder. The skill of this artisan is employed in gilding metals, principally silver, by the action of fire. The metal to be gilded is coated with an amalgam of gold and mercury, and is then exposed to the fumes of a charcoal fire, which drives off the mercury, and leaves the gold adherent to the metal. During the process the fumes of the mercury are inhaled by the workman, and, indeed, deposit their metalliferous particles over the entire surface of the skin. The result is, that he speedily becomes afflicted with mercurial tremor, or, in the language of the workshop, he gets “a fit of the trembles.” If he proceeds with his work the tremor rapidly increases. Dr. Watson, in describing a patient thus afflicted, says:—

“He was led into the room, walking with uncertain steps, his limbs trembling and dancing, as though he had been hung on wires. While sitting on a chair he was comparatively quiet,—you would not suppose that he ailed anything; but, as soon as he attempted to rise and to walk, his legs began to shake violently with a rapid movement. He could neither hold them steadily nor direct them with precision.”

Were it not painful to contemplate, the incoherent muscular action of workmen thus afflicted would appear ludicrous. In endeavouring to put his food into his mouth he will sometimes, as in chorea, bob it against his eye or his cheek; and extreme cases have been known in which the unfortunate water-gilder thus afflicted has been forced to take his food like a quadruped. As the disease increases, the complexion becomes of a brown hue, and presently delirium, and, lastly, want of consciousness supervenes. To this complexion comes the water-gilder; and as the silverer of looking-glasses is exposed to the action ofmercury, both by touch and inhalation, the same effects are produced upon him. If the charming belle, as she surveys her beauty in the glass, could but for a moment see reflected this poor shattered human creature, with trembling muscles, brown visage, and blackened teeth, she would doubtless start with horror; but, as it is, the slaves of luxury and vanity drop out of life unobserved and uncared for, as the stream of travellers disappeared one by one through the bridge of Mirza. Happily, the subtle finger of electricity has in a measure emancipated the water-gilder from the horrors of his art. The voltaic battery now deposits the metal without the intervention of quicksilver, and science has eliminated another of those destructive agencies which have hitherto afflicted this class of artisans.

The silvering of mirrors and looking-glasses still remains a dangerous operation; but there can be no doubt that with properly-constructed flues the floating metal would be entirely conducted away. Indeed, it is by the chimney that much of the metal now escapes; for Thakrah tells us that he has been informed by a manufacturer that from the sweepings of the chimney on one occasion he had collected twenty pounds of good quicksilver. Another, and a very manageable expedient, sometimes resorted to by those exposed to the fumes and the oxide of mercury, is to cover the mouth with a tube-like proboscis, which hangs out of the way of the floating metal, and thus conducts pure air to the operator.

Thakrah tells us that workers in brass also suffer from the inhalation of the volatilized metal. The brass-melters of Birmingham suffer from intermittent fever, which they call the brass ague. This malady leaves them in a state of great debility. The filers of brass, on the same authority, are subject to a most peculiar affection, like Tittlebat Titmouse, their hair turning a vivid green. It is supposed that the copper in the brass-dust combines with the oil of the hair, and thus an oxide of copper is formed. Coppersmiths are, of course, similarly affected. Plumbers, whilst casting, are subject to the volatilized oxide of lead, which in time produces paralysis; and while they are soldering, many deleterious fumes arise, of a sweetish taste, and ofa highly astringent nature, which often produces violent attacks of constipation.

But poisonous metals may attack the mucous membrane in the shape of finely-divided powder used in the arts. There is an exceedingly beautiful paper, of an apple-green colour, which is often selected for the coolness and cheerfulness of its appearance. The writer was himself once deluded by the seductive appearance of a paper of this description, and had his library furnished with it. Strange to say, a violent cold seemed to seize every one, even in the midst of summer, who stopped long in this apartment, especially if they came much in contact with the walls. On questioning the paper-hanger the mystery was speedily explained. “I never hang that kind of paper,” he said, “without getting a bad sore throat and a running of the eyes. All the trade knows it is good for a cold to have any dealings with it.” The cheerful green of the paper is nothing less deadly than the aceto-arsenite of copper, an irritant poison of the first class. The flock part of the paper contains a large quantity of pigment in the form of dust, which is of course liable to be detached from the walls on very slight occasions. It has been erroneously supposed that the metal must be volatilized by heat ere it can be separated from the paper; but the action of detachment is mechanical, and not chemical; the poisonous dust either falls or is brushed off the wall, and becomes mixed with the ordinary dust of the room; the lifting of a book, or the displacement of a pile of papers, proves sufficient to set these particles in motion, and to bring them in contact with the mucous linings of the eyes, nose, and throat; hence the violent irritation produced, which similates so closely the effects of a bad cold in the head. Professor Taylor, the celebrated medical toxocologist, has moreover proved the presence of arsenic in the dust fallen from this kind of paper. In a letter to theMedical Times and Gazette, of January 1st, 1859, he says,—

“I procured from the shop of Messrs. Marratt and Short, opticians, 68, King William Street, London Bridge, a quantity of dust for the purpose of analysis. The walls of this shop are covered with an unglazed arsenical paper, and, as I am informed, they have been so covered for a period ofabout three years. In collecting this dust from the tops of the cases containing the instruments, great care was taken not to touch the walls. The quantity thus collected for examination amounted to about 450 grains. It was nearly black, and, under the microscope, appeared to consist of fibres of sooty particles. It was very light and flocculent. One hundred and fifty grains of the dust were examined by Reinsch’s process, and enough metallic arsenic was obtained from it to coat about ten square inches of copper foil, in addition to a piece of copper gauze. From the latter deposit, by the application of heat, octahedral crystals of arsenic were readily obtained. The case had not been dusted for a period of nine months. Even the dust of instruments locked up in the cases, which were lined at the back only with the green paper, was found to be charged with this poisonous pigment. Half a grain of the dust sufficed to cover pretty thickly with metallic arsenic a square inch of copper gauze. These facts,” says Professor Taylor, “lead to the inevitable inference that the air of a room, of which the walls are covered with an unglazed arsenical green paper, is liable to be charged with the fine dust of the poisonous aceto-arsenite of copper. Those who inhabit these rooms are exposed to breathe the dust. The poison may thus find its way by the pulmonary membrane into the system, or it may affect the eyes, nose, and throat by local action.”

After this unimpeachable testimony to the poisonous character of the pigment in this paper, it is not difficult to understand that the workmen employed in its manufacture are particularly liable to attacks of illness which exhibit all the symptoms of acute influenza; or that the paper-hangers, in putting it up, are sometimes obliged to leave work for a time, in order to get rid of the distressing symptoms to which its manipulation gives rise.

There is in Sheffield an occupation connected with tool-making which forms, as it were, a connecting link between the diseases produced by working in steel and those which flow from working in lead: we allude to file-making. Unfortunately, the various preparations of lead enter very largely into the arts and manufactures of this country; and as its action upon the human body is very great, its pernicious influence is felt in a vast number of occupations of a diverse nature. Thus, white-lead manufacturers, sheet-lead rollers, painters, plumbers, potters, china manufacturers, colour-grinders, glaziers, enamellers of cards, lead-miners, and shot-makers, all come under the saturnine influence; even the poor lacemakers of Belgium do not escape, for the manufacturer, in order to make the fibre look white, requires them to dust it with white-lead powder, and possibly, by this means, it may find its way into the fair skin of a duchess!

It may seem strange that a worker in steel should suffer from the poison of lead, but it occurs in this manner:—The file-maker, in order to hold the file securely, and, at the same time, to protect the fine edge of the sharp chisel with which he cuts the face of the file, places it upon a bed of lead which rests upon an anvil. In cutting the larger three-square files, the workman uses as much as a pound of lead a week; this is detached from the mass by friction and the use of the chisel, in the form of a fine black powder. It is curious that the first portion of the file-cutter’s anatomy that is affected is the finger that rests upon the lead; at first it feels numb, and then becomes paralyzed. If the artisan will not take warning by this fastidious touch of a digit, before long the poison grips him by the wrist, and then some fine morning he wakes and finds that he has what is termed in the trade “a dropped hand;”[53]that is, the extensor muscles of the wrist are paralyzed, and the hand falls helplessly forward, like the fore-paw of a kangaroo. Here the specific action of the poison has exerted itself through the skin of the part affected. The same thing is observable in painters, who are more subject to lead-paralysis than perhaps any other workers in lead. The finger which first touches the brush first suffers; and the potter, who has in the course of his trade to dip his ware in a preparation of lead and flints in order to form the glaze, is in like manner, but still more severely, afflicted. It is well ascertained, however, that the constitutional effects which show themselves in obstinate constipation and cholic, arise from the reception of the lead directly into the mouth, either in the shape of finely-divided particles, or floating in the air, or direct from the fingers to the manipulators: thus, painters will eat their food with fingers soiled with the brush. The mere exhalations of paint are sufficient to paralyze some constitutions very speedily; a single night spent in anewly-painted house is sufficient to produce cholic, especially in young children. And Dr. Watson, in his “Practice of Physic,” relates a case in which a person suffered from dropped hands who had, she said, no concern with lead in any way: on cross-examining her, however, it at last came out that her sons “had in the preceding summer occupied their leisure time with making birdcages and painting them green in the one room in which she habitually lived.” The dippers, as they are termed in the potteries, are perhaps subjected to more frightful effects from lead-poisoning than any other workmen: in addition to paralysis and cholic, the subtle poison sometimes creeps into the brain, mania comes on, and they die raving mad. The grinding and packing of white lead is so destructive, that the men can work at the occupation for a few hours in the day only; the dust that is given off penetrates the clothes, and covers the skin to such an extent that these artisans, after taking a medicated bath of sulphuret of potassium in water, come out like blackamoors.

In these works rats and mice are speedily poisoned by the fine white-lead dust, which penetrates even to their holes. The artisan who handles lead in its various combinations may, however, vastly mitigate his trouble by adopting perfect cleanliness. Before every meal he should wash his hands thoroughly, and after work he should change his clothes. Medical science has given him the means of being forewarned that lead is entering his system by a particular and rarely-failing diagnostic sign: where the metal has entered the system a blue line will be discovered near the edge of the gums; when this blue Peter is hoisted he may know that danger is at hand, and that, unless he is more careful, his bread-earning hand will speedily drop powerless by his side. In all cases, however, prevention is better than cure; and we are glad to learn that almost perfect exemption from painter’s cholic and paralysis has been secured in some extensive painting establishments, by causing artisans to drink a lemonade made by adding a drop of sulphuric acid to a gallon of water. The sulphuric acid is supposed to form, with the lead received into the mouth and stomach, a sulphuret ofthat metal, which is insoluble, and, therefore, cannot be taken up by the absorbents into the system.

There are many important classes of workers whose sufferings have nothing either curious or dramatic about them, who nevertheless furnish the largest contingent to the army of death. At the head of these dismal companies march tailors, bakers, and milliners of large cities and towns. These three classes supply more victims to what has been erroneously termed “the English death,” or consumption, than any other. Yet there can be no doubt that there is but one condition wanting to render these employments comparatively speaking healthy, and that one want is pure air. Dr. Arnot makes the monkeys in the Zoological Garden teach us a lesson in this particular which should not be lost upon us. In his evidence before the Health Commission he says:—

“A new house was built to receive the monkeys, and no expense was spared which, in the opinion of those intrusted with the management, could ensure to those natives of a warm climate all attainable comfort and safety. Unhappily, however, it was believed that the object would be best secured by making the new room nearly what an English gentleman’s drawing-room is. For warming it, two ordinary drawing-room grates were put in as close to the floor as possible, and with low chimney openings, that the heated air in the room should not escape by the chimneys, while the windows and other openings in the walls above were made as close as possible. Some additional warm air was admitted through the openings in the floor, from hot-water pipes placed beneath it. For ventilation in cold weather, openings were made in the skirting of the room below the floor, with the erroneous idea that the carbonic acid produced in the respiration of these animals, because heavier than the other air in the room, would separate from this and escape below. When all this was done, about sixty healthy monkeys, many of which had already borne several winters in England, were put into the room. A month afterwards more than fifty of them were dead, and the few remaining ones were dying. This room, only open below, was as truly an extinguisher to the living monkeys as an inverted coffee cup held over and around the flame of a candle is an extinguisher of the candle. Not only the warmth of the fires and the warm air that was allowed to enter by the openings in the floor, but the hot breath and all the impure exhalations from the bodies of the monkeys ascended, first to the upper part of the room to be completely incorporated with the atmosphere there, and by no possibility could escape except as a part of that impure atmosphere, gradually passing away by the chimneys and openings in the skirting. Therefore, from the time the monkeys went into the room until they died, they could not have had a single breath of fresh air.”

Thepost-mortemexamination proved that these monkeys all died of consumption; so that we have a practical proof thatthis dread disease can be brought on at will. Now, what took place in the monkey-house is taking place, in a milder form, in the hundreds of workshops in which tailors and milliners work in this metropolis. In the great majority of cases tailors work together in rooms by no means proportioned to the number that occupies them. In many cases they work knee to knee on the shop-board with the thermometer ranging from 95 to 100 degrees, no ventilation whatever being present, for when it is provided, the enfeebled workers, fearing catarrhal complaints, stop them up. The result is, an amount of consumption among them second only to that prevalent among the grinders of Sheffield and bakers. The cross-legged fashion in which he works in some measure assimilates him to the collier. It has been suggested that instead of thus doubling himself up for the whole time of his working life, he should work on a board having a hole in it of the circumference of his body, with a seat fixed for his support beneath. Such a contrivance would render his position easy, and enable him to bring his work pretty close to his eyes without his having to bend over it as he does at present. As the tailor is principally employed on black and dark clothes, his eyes are much strained, especially if he works by gas-light: hence he is subject to great impairment of vision.

The baker is subjected to a still greater number of debilitating influences as regards his health than the tailor. In all cases his place of work is in a confined basement, where the oven and the gas contrive to keep the temperature at a tropical point. There is generally a privy close at hand, and the drains are not always in good order; the air, already foul enough, has yet to be contaminated with the floating flour-dust so irritating to the fine air-passages of the lungs. In an atmosphere thus deliberately poisoned with the elements of sickness, the journeyman baker is confined ordinarily from seven o’clock at night until four the following morning, and towards the end of the week he is engaged nearly two entire days in succession. Is it surprising that their rate of sickness is dreadful—greater than even that of the tailors? Dr. Guy tells us that no less than thirty-one in the hundred spit blood, and that every other journeymanof the low-priced bakers, who work under still worse conditions, is subjected to this most dangerous disease. We feel convinced that the public cannot be aware that they eat their daily bread at the expense of the life-blood of the producers. Parliament has refused to interfere in their behalf, but Lord Shaftesbury has taken up their cause, and we believe that ere long the force of public opinion will lead to the abolition of the nightwork, which is at the bottom of the evil. At all events, those who wish to assist in the emancipation of these slaves of civilization, will see with pleasure the introduction of the aërated bread, which by the aid of machinery manufactures the loaf in a much more cleanly method than by hand-labour, and performs the whole process in less than an hour. The introduction of machinery into this trade will at once cure the evils complained of, which result in the majority of cases from the confined establishments and insufficient means of the master-bakers.

The milliners, especially of London, are nearly as unhealthy as the tailors. The evidence given before the Select Committee of the House of Lords in 1855, to inquire into the expediency of passing a bill for the protection of needlewomen, certainly is appalling in the tale it tells of the waste of youthful life. During the season of four months, the shortest time these poor young creatures work is from six in the morning until twelve at night, and when they are very hard pressed for time they are obliged to take their meals standing. At times of great pressure young girls have been worked four days and nights consecutively; and Lord Ashley publicly made mention at the meeting at Exeter Hall, July 11th, 1856, of a witness who had worked without going to bed from four o’clock on Thursday afternoon until half-past ten on Sunday night. Such toil as this in close rooms reeking with human exhalations, and further deteriorated by the excessive use of gas, is scarcely to be matched in deadliness by any occupation engaged in even by the stronger sex; and we are not surprised to hear that it is a frequent thing in fashionable millinery establishments to find the workers faint from sheer exhaustion; as the Queen’s physician emphatically says, “a mode of life more completely calculated to destroy human health couldscarcely be contrived.” Mr. White Cooper, the Queen’s oculist, states, in his lately-published work on the eyes, that he has generally observed a great increase of patients of this class come to him after there has been a general mourning. The committee of the Society of Arts which some few years since made a report on the industrial pathology of trades which affect the eyes, recommend that the light should be thrown on the work rather than the eye; they also recommend that the colour of the material upon which needlewomen are engaged should be changed as often as possible, upon the ground that to preserve the tone of the organ it should have variety of stimulus, its long application to the same colour inevitably exhausting it. The following suggestion from a traveller, which is embodied in this interesting report, is worthy of notice:—“Needlewomen, embroiderers, and lacemakers should work in rooms hung with green blinds and curtains to the windows. When in North China, I became convinced of the very great advantage with which this rule has been adopted by the exquisite embroiderers of that part. Their books of patterns are frequently called ‘Books of the Lady of the Green Window.’” Among the diseases affecting female workers we must not omit to mention an affection called “housemaid’s knee,” which is peculiar to those servants who kneel much upon hard wet stones or boards. The pressure on the knee gives rise to a very painful inflammation of the bursa, or pad, which nature has interposed between the skin and the patella, or knee-cap.

Shoemakers live a sedentary life, like tailors and milliners, but they do not work so frequently in company, consequently they escape the destructive influence of foul air; they are subject, like weavers, however, to disease of the stomach, owing to the constant pressure made upon it, in their case, by the last. Some old cobblers are found to have a depression at the pit of the stomach of the shape of the heel of the boot, moulded in fact by the pressure of this article, which he clasps between this portion of his body and his knees whilst sewing. Like the milliners and tailors, their sight suffers through having to direct so fine an object as a needle point: patent bootmakers areparticularly liable to suffer in their eyes through the brilliant blackness of the material they work upon. We perceive that sewing-machines have been introduced into this trade at Northampton, much to the disgust of those whom they will benefit. The introduction of this useful machine will at once elevate this and scores of other handicrafts, such as those of tailors, milliners, glovers, and all who use the needle, to the dignity of manufacturers requiring considerable capital, the presence of which is some guarantee for the intelligence and benevolence of the masters, and for the adoption of larger and more healthful workshops for their people. As this very large class of workers numbers upwards of half a million in Great Britain, we hail the sewing-machine as an emancipator from drudgery of no ordinary kind.

The compositor, who works in an atmosphere very similar to that breathed by the tailor and milliner, is, like them, subject to severe pulmonary diseases. In some newspaper offices they are planted as thickly as their type-cases can stand, and they carry on their monotonous labour, which is confined to a multitude of small motions of the right hand, conveying to the left types in course of “setting up,” Jobbing printers, who have a much greater variety of motion, are invariably healthier than newspaper compositors; and Dr. Guy has remarked that those compositors who work in the upper stories of large establishments, and consequently in an atmosphere reeking with the impurities which have ascended from the crowded rooms below, and possibly from an engine-room in addition, are much more troubled with spitting of blood and consumption than those working beneath them. In a printing office thus foully ventilated, he was enabled to make a very instructive comparison; for instance, there were fifteen men employed on the second floor, and seventeen men in precisely the same way on the third and uppermost floor. On making personal inquiries of each of the men respecting his health, four only out of the fifteen on the second floor made any complaint; one was subject to indigestion, a second to cough, the third to ulcers of the legs, and the fourth waswhat might be termed a valetudinarian. But of the seventeen employed on the uppermost floor, three had had spitting of blood, two were subject to affections of the lungs, and five to constant and severe colds. Ten of these seventeen, therefore, were subject to diseases affecting the chest, while only one of the fifteen in the room beneath had a disease of this nature. In the course of his inquiries respecting the health of workers in printing-offices, the same intelligent statist hit upon another fact with respect to pressmen, which appears to be of general application. Pressmen, or those who take the impressions of the types set up by the compositors, are generally located in the same building with them, and often in the same room, under precisely similar conditions as regards ventilation and quality of air; yet a series of inquiries brings out the fact that the pressmen are far the healthier of the two. The only manner of accounting for this difference lies in the nature of their labour. The pressman has to use long-sustained and somewhat violent exertions in swinging round the lever of his press, unfolding and refolding the tympan, and screwing up its bed. Compared to these varied muscular movements, the compositor’s hardest work is lifting types from his case to his composing-stick; yet the result is, that the pressman’s liability to consumption is but half that of the compositor, and of other diseases a third less.

This is a very remarkable fact, and irresistibly points to the conclusion that foul air and a heated atmosphere can be borne with far greater impunity by those who labour hard than by those who employ themselves in a sedentary manner. The fair lady who honours us with her attention will perhaps draw a conclusion of her own from this experience, which, no doubt, tallies with her practice and her instinct, that it is far better to waltz till five o’clock in the morning in a crowded ball-room than to remain for the same period a disconsolate “wall-flower.” There appears also to be another law, with respect to the two classes of workmen, equally worthy of remark. The pressman, although he enjoys the best health, and the greatest green age, does not, in individual cases, live as long as the compositor. In the same manner, the stalwart blacksmith, although a farhealthier man than the tailor, and generally longer-lived, does not yet count so many patriarchs among his ranks as snip does. This comparison holds good between those who take much or little exercise out of doors. Mr. Neison, who has carefully worked the fact out, in his volume on Vital Statistics, gives the following highly interesting table:—

Thus, between twenty and thirty, the gardener, the labourer, the thatcher, the drover, and the whole class of men who earn their bread toilfully in wind, rain, and sun, have the expectation of living at least six years longer than the coachman, the watchman, and others who are equally exposed to the weather, but whose blood is not equally circulated or sweetened by continual and active exertion. It will be remarked also, that the out-door worker with little exercise comes off but badly in the comparison with the sedentary in-door worker—in other words, the coachman’s is a worse life than the shopman’s. We suspect, however, with Mr. Neison, that intemperance must thus kick the beam against sedentary out-door employments. We all know, for instance, that Jehu is not a teetotaller, and our suspicions are, moreover, strengthened by the fact that engine-drivers, who are forced to maintain a strict sobriety, although among the class of sedentary out-door workers and exposed to a hurricane of air, and to driving wet during the greater part of their existence—are yet remarkably freefrom consumption—the fell disease which decimates the poor printer, who cannot tolerate the minutest draft in his place of work.

As we ascend in the social scale, it would naturally be supposed that we should find the value of life greater, and occupations more healthy. It is a great question, however, if the artisan, subject as he is to so many injurious circumstances, has not the advantage over the shopkeeper. This may appear at first impossible, but when we come to consider the life led by the tradesman, and especially by the smaller ones, who form so large a proportion of the class, we find they are subjected to an accumulation of adverse influences. In the generality of cases the individual of this genus confines himself to the smallest possible amount of room, in which he can possibly carry on his business—the rest of the house he lets off for offices. In this confined space he lives, without taking any adequate exercise, often lying perdu in a dark inner room, through a peep-hole of which he watches for customers. At night, he inhales an atmosphere polluted by many gas-lights, and when, finally, the shutters are closed, he will often be found sorting and placing away the goods disturbed during the day. Under such circumstances, is it wonderful that he perishes at a more rapid rate than the artisan who labours all day at some noxious trade, and sleeps at night in some wretched lodging? It is well-known that there is scarcely such a thing to be found as a London tradesman of the third generation. The class is entirely kept up by the rosy-faced youths who come up from the country full of hope and health, and then gradually subside into the pallid tradesman of middle life, taking on, as it were, the sad colour and aspect of the great city, just as hares and foxes turn white in northern latitudes, when winter brings about her snow.

There are certain classes of tradesmen who suffer from singular skin diseases consequent upon handling articles of their trade. Thus the miller, whose hands are constantly immersed in his meal, is subject to an irruptive disease of those members, in consequence of the attacks of the meal-mite—asmall insect to be found in some kinds of flour. The grocer’s itch, again, is occasioned by handling sugar infected with an animalcule peculiar to it. We have seen sugar which absolutely moved throughout its entire mass in consequence of the immense number of insects present in it, and these readily attack the hand, and produce an irruption similar to that of the ordinary itch. Chimney-sweepers, again, suffer from a more formidable disease—cancer induced by the irritative qualities of the soot upon certain portions of the skin of the body. Neither must we omit from the ranks of unhealthy town occupations the squalid race of clerks, whose monotonous occupation and posture perpetually fixed in the form of a Z, renders them a very unhealthy class of men.

Waiters in hotels and taverns sap their health by surreptitious tippling. A medical friend says, his experience of them is, that with few exceptions, they areall rotten with perpetual imbibition. Footmen do not drink so much, but they are so grossly overfed and under-worked, that they are always suffering from plethora. “Jeames’” aim is to run to calves, but he pays the penalty for his ambition. They are, in fact, in the position of the convicts at Fremantle, Australia, who, during the time that our soldiers were dying for want of food in the Crimea, suffered from what was significantly called the gluttony plague. Excessive over-feeding and under-working was, it appears, the rule at the convict establishment; and, in consequence, no less than 1554 patients were under medical treatment in less than six months, with diseases of the digestive organs, inflammatory affections of the eyes, and cutaneous eruptions. The physic of short allowance and plenty of work soon set matters to rights. It is not often that the lower or middle classes suffer from over-feeding; but drink is the bane of many trades and occupations. The gigantic brewer’s drayman, who seems built as a match for the Flemish team he drives, is but a giant with feet of clay; his jolly looks are a delusion and a snare. The enormous amount of beer and stout he is allowed by his employers—on the principle, we suppose, that you should not muzzle the ox thattreadeth out the corn—so deteriorates his blood, that a scratch prostrates him, and any serious illness is pretty sure to carry him off. The common labourer, who lives under pretty much the same condition, with the exception of the temptation to drink, has an average life of 47½ years, but he is cut off at the early age of 43 years.

If we take another class of persons thrown continually in the way of tippling, we find the result is equally unfavourable. The pot-boy of the metropolis, with whose doughy face and pert leer we are so well acquainted, scarcely lives out half his days. In his case, in addition to continual potations, he is perpetually breathing, until twelve o’clock at night, an atmosphere compounded of drunkards’ breath, stale tobacco, and all the impurities arising from the brilliant gas illumination of a gin-palace; it is not, therefore, surprising to find that his average age is but 41½ years; while the footman may reckon upon helping himself to his master’s venison until he is 44½ years old. The publican is almost as great a sinner as his man in the way of intemperance, and his life in consequence is at least 2½ years shorter than the very limited span of the tradesman.

Dr. Guy, who has taken considerable pains to ascertain the value of life in the educated classes, has worked out the extraordinary result that, the higher the step in the social hierarchy, the greater the means of self-indulgence, the less the chance of long life. People have so long been accustomed to look upon the possession of wealth as the best guarantee for a flourishing bodily condition, that they will be surprised, perhaps, to hear that in proportion as the wholesome stimulus of labour is withdrawn from any class, in the same proportion the value of its average term of life is shortened. And yet our common experience but tallies with the results of scientific inquiry in this matter. When a man who has lived a long and active life, suddenly retires with the idea that he has earned his ease, and that it is time for him to enjoy himself, ten to one but he has taken the most effectual method of shortening his life; and much as we may smile at the taste of the retiredsoap-boiler, who always made a point of going down to his old shop on “boiling days,” yet we can see that his instinct directed him rightly, for we can none of us bear idleness, least of all those who have long practised industry.

Regularity, sobriety, and activity of mind and body, are the pabulum on which vital force is fed; while, on the contrary, luxury, licentiousness, and sloth, are the cankers of life. A comparison of the longevity of the different educated classes proves this in a remarkable manner. Let us take, for instance, the three learned professions. If the reader were asked whether the clergyman, the lawyer, or the physician lived longest, most probably he would say the lawyer. Accustomed to venerable age on the judgment-seat, and struck with the fact that our leading law lords have generally been, and still are, noblemen of very advanced age, he would perhaps be justified in giving the palm of longevity to them. Yet, in truth, as a class, they are the shortest-lived. The race is neck and neck, it is true, but they lose by a neck. The clergyman, as we should naturally suppose, enjoys a higher standard of health, and attains a greater age, than any member of the community, excepting poor Hodge, the humblest member of his flock. His average age, taking those persons only into account who have passed their 50th year, is 74·04 years, or rather better than one year longer than the physician, who lives to an average age of 72·95 years. This trifling difference, we should expect, as the latter is subject to many chances of infection, and lives more a town life than the former. If the comparison is made, however, between the highest grades of the two professions, between archbishops and bishops, and baronets who have filled the posts of physicians and surgeons to the sovereign, the latter have the advantage by four years, and in both cases the lawyer lags behind in the race with clergymen and physicians: with the latter in his ordinary rank by a few days only, and with the class of medical baronets, as compared with judges, upwards of four years, how much hard study, alternated with tawny port, has to do with the difference, we should scarcely like to say. The gentry maybe reckoned to be about as long-lived as the clergy; well-housed, well-fed, and living an agricultural life with active habits, they have few diseases, and are especially exempt from consumption. Officers of the navy have slightly the advantage of those of the army—say one year of life. From this point, where the social hierarchy takes a leap, and clothes itself in the purple and fine linen of nobility, the lamp of life begins rapidly to burn low. The aristocracy of this country are shorter-lived, by more than one year, than he who works with all the cares and anxieties of the priest, the lawyer, or the physician; and members of royal houses (calculated from the ages of members of continental as well as English royalty) descend the ladder of life so rapidly, that they have three years less of existence than the peer; and, lastly, we come to the “round and top of sovereignty itself.” The potentate who stands on the highest pinnacle of human greatness, surrounded, it would seem, with every condition favourable to comfort and longevity, fenced about from casualties which constantly beset the paths of ordinary mortals—his would appear indeed a charmed life; yet the hard fact will stare us in the face, that the sands of life run far quicker with him than with any other of the educated classes. His years are on an average but 64, or 10 less than the clergy, who probably have to fight the hardest battle in the world—the fight of comparative poverty against appearances. It could be “clearly shown,” says Mr. Neison, in his “Vital Statistics,” “by tracing the various classes of society in which there exists sufficient means of subsistence, by beginning with the most humble, and passing on to the middle and upper classes, that a gradual deterioration in the duration of life takes place; and that just as life, with all its wealth, pomp, and magnificence, would seem to become more valuable and tempting, so are its opportunities and chances of enjoyment lessened. As far as the results of figures admit of judging, this condition would seem to flow directly from the luxurious and pampered style of living among the wealthier classes, whose artificial habits interfere with the nature and degree of those physical exercises which, in a simplerclass of society, are accompanied with long life.” Truly, there is a spirit of compensation in this life, if we could only “distil it forth.” The poor countryman of thirty years of age, who takes his frugal repast under a hedge, has a chance of thirteen years’ longer life than the monarch of the same age clothed in purple, and lord, perhaps, of half the habitable world!

THE END.

Footnotes:

[1]Thiscophee-housein Sweeting’s Rents is not alluded to by Mr. Cunningham in his Handbook of London. He mentions the first as established in 1657, in St. Michael’s Alley, Cornhill, and the second (no date mentioned) as set up at the Rainbow in Fleet Street. We think we must make way for this new discovery between the two.

[2]A furniture broker made his fortune by an advertisement headed “Advice to Persons about to Marry.” Our witty friendPunchfollowed up this prelude with the single wordDon’t, as the substitute for the lists of four-posted beds.

[3]In an article upon the teas of commerce, which appeared in theQuarterly Journal of the Chemical Societyfor July, 1851.

[4]Assam tea is the only exception to this rule, but very little of it is imported.

[5]That sold by Messrs. Dakin, of St. Paul’s Churchyard.

[6]It will be scarcely necessary to say that the great London brewers have never laid themselves open to the suspicion of having adulterated their liquor.

[7]An act has lately been passed which will, we trust, check in some degree the grosser food-frauds on the public.

[8]Since gone to make bears’ grease.

[9]The great merit of this inference may be judged from the circumstance that several eminent naturalists, out of an honest regard for the reputation of Professor Owen, endeavoured to prevent the publication of the paper in which, with the sure sagacity of scientific genius, he confidently announced the fact.

[10]The history of the migrations of the rat is involved in doubt, and none of the accounts can be relied on. Goldsmith had been assured that the Norway rat, as it is called, though it was quite unknown in that country when it established itself in England, came to us from the coast of Ireland, whither it had been carried in the ships that traded in provisions to Gibraltar.

[11]When the atmospheric railway to Epsom was at work, the rats came for the grease which was used to make the endless leather valve, which ran on the top of the suction-pipe, air-tight. Some of them entered the tube, from which they were sucked with every passing train; nevertheless, day by day, others were immolated in the same manner.

[12]A native in India, observing one day a rat run across the floor, stooped to look after it. While in this position he suddenly felt something tugging him back by his hair, and on putting up his hand found a large cobra struggling to free his teeth from his locks. The reptile had also observed the rat, and had dropped from the roof, when the peon suddenly interposed his person between the hunter and his prey. The snake and the rat escaped; but the magistrate of the district having ordered the house to be pulled down the next day, the cobra was found with the rat half digested in his stomach.

[13]A single dead rat beneath a floor will render a room uninhabitable. A financier, of European celebrity, found his drawing-room intolerable. He supposed that the drains were out of order, and went to a great expense to remedy the evil. The annoyance continued, and a ratcatcher guessed the cause of the mischief. On pulling up the boards, a dead rat was discovered near the bell-wire. The bell had been rung as he was passing, and the crank had caught and strangled him.

[14]In a comfortable little apartment, which looked quite domestic in comparison with the workhouse wards of ordinary lunatic asylums, we saw, on our last visit, a young musician playing on a violoncello to an admiring audience. Touches of similar enjoyment continually meet the visitor, lighting up the moral atmosphere of the building with a cheerfulness totally at variance with his preconceived notions of this notorious madhouse.

[15]Steps are being taken, we believe, to effect this necessary change; but unless Parliament puts its pressure upon the Home-Office, we shall expect to see the arrangement completed when the Nelson Column is finished, and not before.

[16]The walls of one of the wards of Colney Hatch are decorated throughout with well-executed bas-relief pictures from Greek subjects by a patient. We are informed that the lunatics who are transferred here from the undecorated wards, enter the apartment with expressions of delight, and are particularly careful to preserve the objects of their pleasure in good condition. In some metropolitan asylums the inmates have adorned their prison-house with pieces of sculpture and pictures; and the Germans are fond of indulging the love of colour by filling some of the windows with stained glass. In France, abundance of flowers are placed about the establishment, as being eminent sources of delight. In these particulars we have not a little to learn from our continental brethren.

[17]These particulars respecting the pauper lunatic colony of Gheel are taken from an article by Dr. Webster in Dr. Winslow’sJournal of Psychological Medicine. This review, which originated with and from the first has been under the able editorship of Dr. Forbes Winslow, has given an immense impulse to the study of psychology. It has enlarged the views of the physician of the insane, and, by extending his horizon, has given him a far better knowledge of the special department to which he formerly confined his studies. It is as impossible to understand the workings of a morbid mind without possessing a knowledge of its ordinary action as it is to interpret the sounds of a diseased lung without being first acquainted with those of a healthy one. The great service which Dr. Forbes Winslow has rendered by unravelling the phenomena of mind in its normal as well as in its disordered state, entitles him to a very high meed of praise, and has deservedly ranked him among the first medico-psychologists of the present day.

[18]In the subjoined passage, which is extracted from an official communication to the Commissioners in Lunacy, and published in one of their parliamentary reports, Dr. Forbes Winslow explains the principles which should guide the physician in the moral treatment of the insane when placed under legal control and supervision:—“In the management of the insane, and in the conduct of asylums, both public and private, the principle of treatment should consist in a full and liberal recognition of the importance of extending to the insane themaximumamount of liberty and indulgence compatible with their safety, security, and recovery; at the same time, subjecting them to theminimumdegree of mechanical and moral restraint, isolation, seclusion, and surveillance, consistent with their actual morbid state of mind at the time. It is also necessary to bear in mind as an essential principle of curative treatment, the importance of bringing the insane confined in asylums, as much as possible, within the sphere of social, kindly, and domestic influences. In many cases, isolation, seclusion, and an absolute immunity from all kinds of stimuli, physical and mental, are, during the acute and recent stages of insanity, indispensably necessary to recovery; but in certain forms of melancholia, monomania, and in some chronic morbid states of mind, no mode of moral treatment is productive of such great curative results as that now referred to. I need not observe that this system of treatment cannot be adopted except in those establishments where there is an active, experienced, and intelligent resident medical officer, who fully appreciates the great value of such homely family influences upon the minds of the insane. In our moral treatment, do we not occasionally exhibit an excess of caution, and exercise, with the best and kindest intentions, an undue amount of moral restraint and vigilance? I think we may sometimes err in being a little too distrustful of the insane. Whilst urging the necessity, in certain forms of morbid mind, of great and constant watchfulness, particularly in cases of suicidal monomania, and recent and acute attacks, I would suggest, to those having the management of asylums, the necessity, with the view to the adoption of a curative process of treatment, of placing more confidence in those entrusted to their care, and of allowing the patients a greater amount of freedom, indulgence, and liberty than they at present enjoy in many of our public and private asylums. In many phases of insanity in which confinement is indispensable, the patient’s word may fully be relied upon; and under certain well-defined restrictions, he should be permitted to feel that confidence is reposed in him, and that he is trusted, and not altogether (although in confinement) deprived of his free and independent agency. I feel quite assured that a judicious liberality of this kind will be generally followed by the happiest curative results, and greatly conduce to the comfort and happiness of the patient. Patients should be permitted occasionally to attend divine worship out of the asylum, when circumstances do not contra-indicate this practice; they should be allowed also to walk out of the confines of the asylum, to attend places of amusement, visit scientific exhibitions; and the resident medical officer should make himself their friend and companion; thus inspiring them with confidence in his skill and kindly intentions, and reconciling them to the degree of moral restraint to which they may be unavoidably subjected.”

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