[Footnote 135: Died at the Convent of the Visitation, Georgetown, D.C. on the 18th of April, .... a young girl thirteen years of age, who was received into the bosom of the Holy Church October 2d, 1866.]
"I will wash my hands among the Innocent,and so will I compass thy altar, O Lord!"
Oct. 2d. Feast Of The Holy Guardian Angels. Baptism
In snowy robe and spotless veilStands the fair child at the altar rail."Of Holy Church what askest thou?""The FAITH," she murmured. Upon her browThe bright drops fell. An angel smiledIn the face of God, all he said: "Thy Child!"
Dec. 8th. Feast Of The Immaculate Conception. First Communion.
In snowy robe and spotless veilKneels the fair child at the altar rail."Of Holy Chinch what cravest thou,On suppliant knee and with rev'rent brow?""My Lord, my Hope, in whom I live.""'Tis thy Child!" said the angel. "Master, give!"
April 14th. Palm Sunday. Burial.
In snowy robe and spotless veilLies the fair child at the altar rail."Of Holy Church what askest thou,Palm-branch in hand, and with flower-crowned brow?""In robe baptismal yet undefiled,MY LOVE!" Said the angel: "He waits thee, Child!"
It is the fate of illustrious men to reproduce the tendencies of the age in which they live—whether for good or evil. Thus, the study of characters, that the engraver of fame has impressed on the memory of humanity, leads frequently to a knowledge of the age to which they belonged, and from this knowledge much that is useful can be elicited.
A man has lived among us, whose noble character, generous aspirations, illusions even, or exaggerations, are reflected in his contemporaries. Lacordaire is France of the nineteenth century, and the thought that germinated in the soul of the celebrated Dominican, and until his time awaited its development, borne down by the weight of intellectual ruin which the school of Voltaire had amassed, this thought harmonizes so well with the genius of the day, and with its research, that it seems impossible not to recognize the ray of light destined to dissipate for ever the shadows of doubt and unbelief, which lead astray and weaken the life of our generation.
"I have attained to my catholic belief," writes Lacordaire, "through my social beliefs, and today nothing appears plainer to me than such a consequence. Society is necessary, therefore the Christian religion is divine; for it is the means of leading society to perfection by accepting man with all his weaknesses, and social order with its every condition."
Such words cannot be too deeply considered; and the truths that they express are in such close affinity with the tendencies of our time that it is easy and profitable to meditate upon them. We wish for the happiness of the masses, social prosperity, and the advancement of civilization; therefore, we wish for Christianity. Humanity is called upon to peaceably develop its strength, while releasing itself from the bonds of the monster called pauperism, with whom physical misery is only the clothing of moral. Therefore humanity is called upon to germinate in a reviving sun all Christian teachings.
Do you wish for facts? You are children of an age that acts only by experience. Well, then, light the torch of history, and, throwing its rays over the annals of the world, read the observations spread before your eyes, and compare the actual state of an ancient and modern people. In instructing and bringing man to a sense of his greatness and duty, who has raised and elevated social relations? Who has broken the chains of pagan slavery? Who has sown the seed of all intellectual and moral virtue in those vast regions that barbarian night had enveloped? Who, then, has given servants to weakness, to suffering, to the disinherited by fortune, to all those that grief had touched with an unpitying hand? Who has founded large schools, asylums of science and art; great centres from which have parted in radiating those who, by gigantic works, accomplished under the observation of astonished generations, have merited the appellation of the Cultivators of Europe? Who has done all these things, if not the church, that is to say, Christianity teaching, directing, and moralizing humanity?
Christianity, then, not only elevates man to a moral grandeur unknown to pagan nations, but through its influence society exists in a material prosperity to which Greece and Rome never attained. Profane history shows us a few privileged ones, satiated, we may say, with riches, but beneath and around them, we see only a servile mass vegetating in degrading misery.What a difference, say we, with a modern wise economist, M. Perin, professor in the university or Louvain—what a difference in the riches of the sun between the Roman empire in its happiest time and contemporary Europe! What difference in products, in the multiplicity and rapidity of communication, in the cheapness of transportation, and in the extent of relations which to-day embrace the entire world!
What a difference, again, in the financial resources of states, in their armies, in their material. What a difference and what superiority on the side of modern nations, not only in that which constitutes their individual happiness, but in that which makes the material power of nations and their true force. What superiority especially in the mass of wealth destined for the consumption of a people. Time, since the thirteenth century, has rolled on in the full power of Christian civilization, and has evidenced a period of prosperity which has had no equal in history. These are the facts. But science does not stop at facts. Its mission is to investigate by labor of which it only has the secret and the glorious trouble, the why as well as the end of things.
Science is the knowledge of objects of observation studied by their causes: cognitio rerum per causas. We ask of it, therefore, the reason of the marvellous power we have just proved in Christianity; and in order not to extend our investigations, we will content ourselves by seeking with it how material prosperity and the wealth of nations come from a religion which preaches the doctrine of renunciation.
The reason of the prosperity of nations truly Christian is, it seems to us, evident. We find them practising generally the virtues of which Christianity is the apostle and propagator. Economists will tell, you without capital, that is to say, without expenditure with the view of reproduction, there can be no social riches. But is this expenditure compatible with vice, that never has enough to satisfy its brutal appetites?
Virtue, then, is the source of social ease, and in it only the remedy for pauperism. "If you do not give a people virtue, the only serious guarantee of present expenditure and future capital, you can never entirely defend it against an invasion of misery. In vain you may accumulate well-being and ease around the domestic hearth; in vain make and increase capital from growing wealth, if you do not accumulate a capital conservative of all other, that of virtue." We are happy to quote these beautiful words, only a few days since fallen from the pulpit of Notre Dame.
Just now we pronounced the word renunciation. Well, it is necessary that all understand that Christian self-denial is a dispensing force, the results of which are incalculable. It elevates the poor man beyond discouragement, and preserves for him the energy with which he diminishes the privations of his family. To him it comes to destroy the individuality which absorbs the opulence of the rich. To him it leads the beneficent current of fortune, which flows from those who have toward those who have not. To him, at last, it brings riches in every way, since under its mild influence each one profits by its thousand sacrifices, although he individually may make none. Let us be permitted to borrow some lines from the beautiful book of M. Périn, De la Richesse dans les Sociétés Chrétiennes:
"Follow the course of ages," said this wise economist, "and you will ever find Christianity accomplish through the virtue of self-denial the work of each epoch, forcing humanity toward progress, and even saving it from the perils of success. Run through the society of to-day, and in every degree of civilization that a contemporary world presents us, in the same picture and at a single glance, and in the varied phases that pervade our different societies, you will find Christianity proportion its action to circumstances; you will find it endeavoring to impress all countries and races with the salutary impulse for progress by the power of self-denial, while it is ever the same in principle, and ever infinitely varied in its applications and fertile in its effects."
Self-denial! Yes, it is this which gives Christian souls that holy love of work which is the productive element of social riches. To make a sacrifice of one's repose to God, while bending under the yoke of painful labor, is the joy of the Scripture disciple. He wishes for such joy, he loves it, and it was to obtain it that the children of Saint Benedict have sown its seed in the uncultivated deserts of the old Europe or under the murderous sun of Africa.
At the time of its decay and corruption Rome, it is said, was at the same time lazy and servile. But, even in the days of its grandeur, can we believe that labor showed itself to the eyes of the Roman people transfigured by that aureole which gives it incomparable beauty, so grand that one loves it with a love which might seem folly if it were not supreme wisdom? Such a sentiment can only be born with the doctrine of renunciation and the thought of the Saviour. "To re-establish labor and the condition of the workman, it was necessary that Christ, making himself a laborer, should wield with his own royal and divine hands, in the workshop of Nazareth, the axe and the tools of the carpenter."
These words, which we borrow from a course of political economy, delivered with so much eloquence to the Faculté de Droit de Caen, by M. Alexandre Carel, finish by exemplifying how labor, and, by consequence, the wealth of society, owes so much to Christianity.
The limits of an article do not permit us to develop further the ideas necessary to understand all its power and truth. We can only resume them in saying:
To occupy one's self with social and political studies is to follow the impulse that our age impresses on intelligence. To find the condition necessary for the well-being of society, of which we form a part, would be from the point of view of contemporary aspirations one of the finest victories that the public mind could carry with it, one of the greatest satisfactions that the heart can obtain. Well! may our eyes open at last. Let us learn to see that, without neglecting secondary means, it is necessary, to attain the end desired, to christianize the people.
Christianity with its virtues, its doctrine of self-renunciation, its labor transfigured by freedom and love, behold the agent, and the only one capable of producing the prosperity with which we would wish to endow nations. Let us understand these things, and we shall march with success to the conquest of social happiness. But we shall do better still. Penetrating the harmonious connection that unites effects to causes, we shall ask of it the secret of the superhuman power that escapes from it by submission to the Scripture; and soon we can repeat again the conviction of Lacordaire: "Christianity is the means of leading society to its perfection, by accepting man with all his weaknesses, and social order with its even condition. Society is necessary; therefore the Christian religion is divine."
Mr. Alexander Melville Bell has recently brought under the notice of the Society of Arts his very remarkable system of Visible Speech or Universal Language, which is (says Chamber's Journal) intended to remove an absurdity which vitiates all ordinary alphabets and languages. This absurdity is the utter want of agreement between the appearance of a letter or word and the sound which it is intended to convey; between the visible form of the symbol and the sound and meaning of the thing symbolized; between (for instance) the shape of the letter C and the value of that letter in the alphabets which contain it. This is an old difficulty—how old, we do not know; but to understand the proposed remedy, it will be necessary to have a clear idea of the defect to which the remedy is to be applied.
Spoken language may, for aught we know, have had its origin in an attempt to imitate, by the organs of the voice, the different sounds which animate and inanimate nature presents. Man could thus recall to the minds of those around him those notions of absent objects and past actions with which the sounds are connected. The expression of abstract qualities by the same means would be a later object, and one more difficult of attainment. When the eye instead of the ear had to be appealed to, or the signs rendered visible instead of audible, the system of hieroglyphics would at once suggest itself, by marking on a tablet or paper, a piece of ground or a smooth surface of sand, a rude picture of the object intended. When we get beyond these preliminary stages, however, the difficulty rapidly increases. There is no visible picture by which we could convey the meaning of such sentiments as are called in English virtue, justice, fear, and the like, except by so elaborate a composition as it would require an artist to produce; nor could an audible symbol for each of these sentiments be framed. It would take a Max Müller to trace how the present complication gradually arose. That thereisa complication, anyone may see in a moment. What is there in the shape of the five letters forming the word table, in these particular combinations of curved and straight lines, to denote either the sound of the word or the movements of the mouth and other vocal organs which produce its utterance? Nothing whatever. Any other combination of straight and curved lines might be made familiar by common use, and substituted for our plain English word, with as little attention to any analogy between the visible symbol and the sound of the thing symbolized.
Numerous attempts have been made to devise some sort of alphabet in which the shapes of the letters should in some way be dependent on the movements of the vocal organs—not actual pictures of them, but analogies, more or less complete. Without going to earlier labors, we may adduce those of Professor Willis. Nearly forty years ago, he showed that the ordinary vowel sounds—a, e, i, o, u—are produced on regular acoustic principles; that "the different vowel sounds may be produced artificially, by throwing a current of air upon a reed in a pipe; and that, as the pipe is lengthened or shortened, the vowels are successively produced"—not in the order familiar to us, but in the orderi, e, a, o, u, (and with the continental sounds,ilikeee,elikeay,alikeah,ulikeoo.)Eighty or ninety years ago, Mr. Kratzenstein contrived an apparatus for imitating the various vowel sounds. He adapted a vibrating reed to a set of pipes of peculiar forms. Soon afterward, Mr. Kempelen succeeded in producing the vowel sounds by adapting a reed to the bottom of a funnel-shaped cavity, and placing his hand in various positions within the funnel. He also contrived a hollow oval box, divided into two portions, so attached by a hinge as to resemble jaws; by opening and closing the jaws, he produced various vowel sounds; and by using jaws of different shapes, be produced imperfect imitations of the consonant soundsl, m, andp. By constructing an imitative mouth of a bell-shaped piece of caoutchouc, imitative nostrils of two tin tubes, and imitative lungs in the form of a rectangular wind-chest, he produced with more or less completeness the familiar sounds ofn, d, g, k, s, j, v, t, andr. By combining these he produced the wordsopera, astronomy,etc., and the sentencesVous etes mon ami—Je vous aime de tout mon coeur. By introducing various changes in some such apparatus as this, Professor Willis has developed many remarkable facts concerning the mode in which wind passes through the vocal organs during oral speech.
The useful work would be, however, not to imitate vocal sounds by means of mechanism, but to write them so that they should give more information as to their mode of production than our present alphabet affords. Such was the purport of thePhoneticsystem, which had a life of great activity from ten to twenty years ago, but which has since fallen into comparative obscurity. Mr. Ellis and the Messrs. Pitman published very numerous works, either printed in the phonetic language itself, or intended to develop its principles. Bible Histories, the New Testament, the Sermon on the Mount, Pilgrim's Progress, Paradise Lost, Macbeth, The Tempest—all were printed in the new form; and there were numerous works under such titles as Phonetic or Phonographic Alphabets. Almanacs, Journals, Miscellanies, Hymn-books, Note-books, Primers, Lesson-books, and the like. The intention was not so much to introduce new forms of letters, as new selections of existing letters to convey the proper sounds of words. There was an unfortunate publication, the Fonetik Nuz, which worked more harm than good to the system, seeing that it was made a butt for laughter and ridicule—more formidable to contend against than logical argument.
Mr. Bell contemplates something more than this. He has been known in Edinburgh for twenty years in connection with numerous works relating to reading, spelling, articulation, orthoëpy, elocution, the language of the passions, the relations between letters and sounds, logograms for shorthand, and the like. As a writer and teacher on these subjects, he had felt, with many other persons, how useful it would be if we could have a system of letters of universal application; letters which, when learned in connection with any one language, could be vocalized with uniformity in every other. There are two obstacles to the attainment of this end: first, that the association between the existing letters and sounds is merely arbitrary; and second, that international uniformity of association is impracticable, because the sounds of different languages, and their mutual relations, have not hitherto been ascertained with exactitude or completeness.
Mr. Bell, as he tells us, feeling that all attempted collations of existing alphabets have failed to yield the elements of a complete alphabet, tried in a new direction. Instead of going to languages to discover the elements of utterance, he went to the apparatus of speech itself, endeavoring to classify all the movements of tongue, teeth, lips, palate, etc., concerned in the pronunciation of vocal sounds. By this means, he hoped to obtain, from the physiological basis of speech, an organic scale of sounds which should include all varieties, known and unknown.To transfer these sounds to paper, in the form of visible characters, a new alphabet was necessary. To have adopted letters from the Roman, Greek, or other alphabets, constructed on no common principle of symbolization, would have been to introduce complexity and confusion, and to create a conflict between old and new associations. He therefore discarded old letters and alphabets of every kind. He set himself the task of inventing a new scheme of symbols, each of which should form a definite part of a complete design; insomuch that, if the plan of the alphabet were communicated by diagrams, each letter would teach its own sound, by expressing to the reader's eye the exact position of the sound in the physiological circuit. Could this object be attained, not only would there be a universal alphabet; there would be a scheme of letters representative of sounds, and not, like ordinary alphabets, associated with sounds only by arbitrary conventions.
Mr. Bell believes that he has achieved this result, and his expositions before the Ethnological Society, the College of Preceptors, and the Society of Arts, have had for their object the presentation of various phases of the system. The fitness of the termvisiblespeech may, be urges, be shown by the analogy of an artist, who, wishing to depict a laughing face, draws the lines of the face as seen under the influence of mirth; be depicts, in fact,visiblelaughter. Every passion and sentiment, emotion and feeling, has this kind of facial writing; and an idea of it might be expressed on paper by a picture of the muscular arrangements of the face, so that all persons seeing the symbols would have a common knowledge of their meaning. In forming any sound, we adjust the parts of the mouth to certain definite attitudes; and the sound is the necessary result of our putting the mouth in such a shape. If, then, we could represent the various positions of the mouth, we should have in those symbols a representation of the sounds which cannot but result from putting the mouth in the positions symbolized. Now, Mr. Bell claims to have applied this system of symbolization to every possible arrangement of the mouth: he claims that, whatever your language, and whether you speak a refined or a rustic dialect, he can show, in the forms of his new letters, the exact sounds you make use of. If this be so, a Chinaman may read English, or an Englishman Chinese, without any difficulty or uncertainty, after he has learned to form his mouth in accordance with the directions given him by the letters. Nearly all the existing alphabets contain vestiges of a similar relation between letters and sounds—a relation which has nearly disappeared during the changes which alphabetic characters have gradually undergone. Mr. Bell gave the following anecdote illustrating this relation: "Shortly before I left Edinburgh, in the early part of last year, an elderly lady called on me, accompanied by two young ladies, who were going out to India as missionaries. The elderly lady had been for upward of twenty years engaged in mission work, and she spoke the language of the district like a native. Nevertheless, she could not teach the English girls to pronounce some of the peculiar sounds which she had acquired by habit. They had been for some time under her instruction, but they could not catch the knack of certain characteristic elements. Having heard of 'Visible Speech,' the lady called to solicit my assistance. I know nothing of the language she pronounced before me. Some of the sounds I had never heard in linguistic combinations, though, of course, I am acquainted with them theoretically. I saw the young ladies for half an hour, but this proved long enough to give them the power of pronouncing the difficult sounds which, while they did not know precisely what to do, they could not articulate. Strangely enough, since I came to reside in London, I heard a clergyman and former missionary, speaking of these very girls, remark on the great success with which they pronounced the Canarese language before they left this country; and the speaker knew nothing of their previous difficulty, or how it had been overcome."
The system analyzes all sounds according to the mode in which they are produced. The number of sounds discriminated in various languages amounts to several times the number of letters in the English alphabet; and even in English, although there are only twenty-six letters, there are at least forty different sounds. The Church Missionary Society employ nearly two hundred different letters or symbols in their several printed books; and the list is even then imperfect as regards many of the languages.
Mr. Bell finds thirty symbols sufficient to denote all the two hundred varieties of vowel and consonant sounds. What kind of symbols they are, we do not know, (for a reason presently to be explained;) but he states that, while each elementary sound has its own single type to express it in printing, he requires only thirty actual types to express them as used in language. Each symbol has a name, which does not include the sound of the letter, but merely describes its form. The learner has thus at first only to recognize pictures. But the name of the symbol also expresses the arrangement of the mouth which produces the sound; so that, when the symbol is named, the organic formation of its sound is named at the same time. In order that thirty symbols may denote two hundred sounds, Mr. Bell has adopted certain modes of classification. All vowels receive a common generic symbol, all consonants another; vocality and whisper have their respective symbols; so have inspiration, retention, and expulsion of breath; so have the touching and the vibration of the several vocal organs; so have the lips, the palate, the pharynx, the glottis, and the different parts of the tongue; so has the breathing of sounds through the nostrils, or through nearly closed teeth. There are thirty of these generic meanings altogether, and they are combined to make up letters, every part of every letter having a meaning. The thirty symbols need not be represented mechanically by exactly thirty types; they may be embodied in a larger or smaller number, according to taste or convenience; such of the symbols as together represent simple elements of speech being properly combined in single types. "The highest possible advantages of the system," we are told, "would be secured by extending the number of types to about sixty. At present, I and my sons—as yet the only experts in the use of visible speech—write the alphabet in a form that would be cast on between forty and fifty types, which is but little more than the number in an ordinary English fount, including diphthongs and accented letters. This number does not require to be exceeded in order to print, with typographic simplicity, the myriad dialects of all nations."
Mr. Bell pointed out the prospective usefulness of his system in telegraphic communication. The symbols of speech may, in all their varieties, be transmitted by telegraph, through any country, without the necessity for a knowledge of the language adopted on the part of the signaller. He would only have to discriminate forms of letters; he may be totally ignorant of the value of a single letter, and yet may convey the telegram so as to be intelligible to the person to whom it is virtually addressed. It is known that the telegrams from India now reach London in a sadly mutilated and unintelligible state, owing to their passing through the hands of Turkish and Persian agents who do not know the English alphabet; an evil which, it is contended, would be removed by the adoption of the new system.
The mode in which Mr. Bell illustrated his method was curious and interesting. His son uttered a great variety of sounds—whispered consonants, vocal consonants, vowels, diphthongs, nasal vowels, interjections, inarticulate sounds, animal sounds, mechanical sounds—all of which are susceptible of being represented in printed or written symbols. Then, the son being out of the room, several gentlemen came forward and repeated short sentences to Mr. Bell, some in Arabic, some in Persian, some in Bengali, some in Negro patois, some in Gaelic, some in Lowland Scotch, some in Norfolk dialect; Mr. Bell wrote down the sounds as he heard them, without, except in one or two cases, knowing the purport of the words. The son was called in, and, looking attentively at the writing, repeated the sentences with an accuracy of sound and intonation which seemed to strike those who were best able to judge as being very remarkable.
There is something a little tantalizing in the present state of the subject. We know that there isasystem of symbols, but we do not know the symbols themselves. Mr. Bell states that, besides the members of his own family, only three persons have been made acquainted with the symbols, and the details of their formation—namely, Sir David Brewster, Professor de Morgan, and Mr. Ellis. He has not intended, and does not intend, to secure his system to himself by any kind of patent or copyright; and yet, if he made it fully public at once, he would lose any legitimate hold over it to which he is rightly entitled. He has submitted his plan to certain government departments, but has found that it is "nobody's business" to take up a subject which is not included in any definite sphere of duty. He has next endeavored to interest scientific societies in the matter, so far as to induce them to urge the trial of his plan by the government. He says: "I am willing to surrender my private rights in the inventionpro bono publico, on the simple condition that the costs of so introducing the system may be undertaken at the public charge." Teachers there must be, because "the publication of the theory of the system and the scheme of symbols must necessarily be supplemented by oral teaching of the scales of sound, in order that the invention may be applied with uniformity." The reading of the paper gave rise to some discussion at the Society of Arts, not as to the value and merit of the system itself, but as to anything which the society can do in the matter. It is one rule of the society that no new invention shall be brought forward without a full explanation of themodus operandias well as of the leading principles; and in this case, the objection lay that the inventor declined to make public, unless under some government agreement, the actual secret of his method. Mr. Bell replied that, if even he were to write a sentence in view of the audience, it would add very little to their real knowledge of the subject; but he furthermore said he was ready to explain the details of the system to any committee whom the council of the society, or any other scientific body, may appoint. To us it appears that neither Mr. Bell nor the society is open to blame in the matter. He has the right to name the conditions under which he will make his system public; while they have the right to lay down rules for the governance of their own proceedings. The results actually produced struck the auditors generally with surprise; and there can be little doubt that the system will in some way or other, at all events, work itself into public notice.
Our recent alarm at the appearance and progress of the cholera in London may have drawn the attention of many who had before been accustomed to pass them by with indifference, to those columns in the papers in which the reports of the Registrar-General on the state of the public health are from time to time recorded. But we are perhaps hardly yet sufficiently awake to the importance and interest of the statistics there contained, any more than to the value of the short and, at first sight, rather unintelligible tables which embody, day after day, the meteorological phenomenon collected in London from so many different points on our own coast and those of adjacent countries. These last statistics have an interest which does not yet belong to those which relate to the public health, in that they embrace reports from so many distinct places which can be compared together. We, of course, only publish our own statistics of health, disease, births, and deaths; and we have not yet seen our way to the information that might be gathered by a comparison of our own condition in these respects with that of others under similar circumstances. The interest and value of such a comparison is obvious enough; and some of the results which might be hoped from it, if it were systematically and scientifically made, may be guessed at by the perusal of a thin volume of less than two hundred pages, lately published in Paris by M. Vacher, [Footnote 136] which at first sight may seem not to promise very much except to professional readers, but from which we shall take the liberty of drawing a few facts which certainly seem worthy of the attention of the more general public.
[Footnote 136: Etude Médicale et Statistique sur la Mortalité à Paris, à Londres, à Vienne et à New-York en 1865. D'aprés les Documens officiels, avec une Carte Météorologique et Mortuaire. Par le docteur L. Vacher. Paris: F. Savy, 1866.]
Canning once said, in answer to some one who alleged "a well-known fact" against him, that there was but one thing more fallacious than a fact, and that was a figure. We must all be ready to allow that the results which we see embodied so neatly in a set of figures in statistical tables are, after all, but approaches to the truth; and they are not put forward as anything more. Still, there is often a wonderful accuracy about the average results given by statistical inquiries; and it is obvious that when the result of one calculation is confirmed by that of another independent of the former, or when one uniform result is given by a continued series of inquiries, or when there is a very decided preponderance on one side of a comparison, such as cannot be accounted for by chance, it would be absurd to refuse to assent to conclusions thus obtained. With this single preliminary remark, let us proceed to some of the facts collected for us by M. Vacher.
He begins by giving due credit to this country for having taken the lead in the publication of the kind of statistics with which he has to deal. The reports of the Registrar-General are all that he can desire. New York and Vienna have followed, more or less fully, the example set in London. It has also been copied in St. Petersburg, as far as the registration of deaths is concerned; and it is hoped that a weekly publication of the results will soon be made in that city. Paris joined the movement at the end of 1864 or the beginning of 1865.There is, however, some difference of system. The chief point is, that in England the medical man who attends a sick person reports the cause of death; in Paris there are certain official physicians,vérificateurs des décès, and these, instead of the attending physician, assign the cause. The superiority of the English system seems to be acknowledged. M. Vacher's book is founded on the reports thus produced.
His first business is, of course, to settle approximately the population of the four capitals with whose statistics he deals—a matter of considerable difficulty, even with all the results of the census before him. He calculates the number of the inhabitants of Paris in 1865 at 1,863,000; those of London were 3,028,600; those of Vienna, 560,000; and those of New York, 1,025,000, (in 1864.) At the present rate of increase, Paris will double its population in 32 years, London in 40, Vienna in 44, and New York in 13½. On the other hand, this increase is not to be set down to the excess of births over deaths, which in London, in 20 years before 1861, was only 328,189—about a third of the actual increase, (35 per cent.) In a similar period, the births exceed the deaths in Paris by only 13 (and a fraction) per cent of the whole increase. Immigration has therefore the largest share in the increase of the population. A flow is continually setting in from the country to the town in the age in which we live, and it enriches the largest towns, and the capitals especially. New York, receiving annually so many immigrants from Europe, is, of course, beyond the others in its gains from this source. Paris has undergone great vicissitudes as to the number of its inhabitants. In 1762, the population seems to have been about 600,000. It fell off immensely during the Revolution; even in 1800 it was only 547,756. From 1790 to 1810 the number of deaths exceeded the number of births. Since that time the proportion has been reversed, except in years of great epidemics.
Of the four capitals with which M. Vacher deals, Vienna, the smallest, had the largest proportion of deaths in 1865. In Vienna the proportion was 1 to 31 of the inhabitants; in Paris, notwithstanding the ravages of the cholera in October—causing 6591 deaths (nearly an eighth of the whole)—it was 1 to 36; in New York, 1 to 40; in London, 1 to 41. In Paris, London, and New York, the death rate has diminished in its proportion to the population for some time past. In Paris, in the three decades of years from 1830 to 1860, it fell successively from 1 to 31, to 1 to 34, and then to 1 to 38. There has been the same improvement in the other two cities. In New York, fifteen years ago, the rate of deaths was 1 to 22—nearly twice as high as at present. We do not see any statement in M. Vacher's pages as to the case of Vienna. He attributes the improvement in Paris to some extent to the great public works and measures for securing the health of the population which have marked the second empire; but much more, it would seem, to the better management of the hospitals. In Paris and Vienna a much larger proportion of the inhabitants die in hospitals than in New York and London; and, as far as we are concerned, M. Vacher includes workhouses and asylums of all kinds under the general name of hospitals. He finds, on comparing some scanty statistics of the last century with the facts of the present, that in old times the number of deaths in hospitals was far greater in proportion to the cases admitted than now; and he thinks that, in Paris at least, this almost explains the improvement in the death-rate. In New York the same improvement may have had many causes, but it is remarkably coincident as to time with the magnificent changes made, at an immense cost, in the water supply of that city. From some meteorological tables compiled with great care by M. Vacher, we gather the rather surprising result that the variations of temperature during the year, which have considerable influence on the death-rate, are greatest at Vienna, (nearly 27°,) next at New York, (25°,) much lower in Paris (17°,) and lowest of all in London, (15°.)
One of the most interesting questions at the present time on this subject is that of the water supply. M. Vacher begins with a cordial tribute to the Romans on this head. The magnificent aqueducts by which the city of Rome was supplied date from the time of the early republic, though the emperors increased their number. At an early point of their history, therefore, the Romans were wise and liberal enough to dispense with the waters of the Tiber for drinking. They carried their system everywhere when they became the masters of the world; in France, in Spain, and in Italy many aqueducts can still be traced which were their work. We may be quite certain that if Britain were now a Roman province, the Thames water companies would never be allowed to supply water except for the streets, and great aqueducts would long since have brought us the pure water of Bala Lake or Windermere. Thanks to the popes, modern Rome though not so profusely supplied as in imperial times, is still very far in advance of all other cities in the world in this respect. [Footnote 137] M. Vacher reckons the water supply in ancient Rome as 1492litresa day for each inhabitant; in modern Rome it is 1040; in New York, 159; in Vienna. 134; [Footnote 138] in Paris, according to the new system, 109; in London, 132. But no city seems to have itshousesso well supplied as London; in Rome a great quantity of water is wasted, being left to run away from the fountains, while the houses are not conveniently provided with water. We suppose that our old friend the house-cistern, against which we have heard so many complaints lately, is not an essential feature in our system of house supply.
[Footnote 137: M. Vacher attributes the salubrity of Rome—for, considering its position, it enjoys remarkable salubrity—to the abundance and good quality of its water. Lancisi, who practiced there as a physician in the last century, accounts for the longevity of its inhabitants in the same way. At all events, remarks M. Vacher, "il est impossible de n'étre pas frappé de ce fait, que les historiens ne mentionnent pas un seul example de peste à Rome, et qu'au moyen age et dans les temps modernes elle a constainment échappé aux atteintes de la pests et du choléra, qui ont sévi à plusteurs reprises en Italie." But Rome has certainly been visited by the cholera more than once, and the rest of the statement is surely contrary to history.]
[Footnote 138: This statement is, however, an anticipation. The municipality of the Vienna has undertaken some immense works in order to improve the water supply, at a cost of 16,000,000 florins. The works are not yet completed: but M. Vacher gives the quantity of water for each inhabitant which they are expected to furnish. Hitherto the city has been supplied, it would seem, partly from the Danube, partly by wells. The new supply will be drawn from three different sources among the neighboring mountains.]
M. Vacher gives the following conclusions as to the sanitary effect of good and abundant water. He tells us that inorganic substances contained in water are comparatively innocuous to the health of those who drink it; on the other hand, great injury is caused by the presence of organic matter. The best water in Paris—that of the springs on the north—contains nine times as much of calcareous salts as the water of the Seine; but it is justly preferred for drinking purposes. On the other hand, M. Vacher quotes the testimony of M. Bouchut, a professor at the Ecole de Médecine, for the fact that he noticed the frequency of epidemic diarrhoea during the summer months in the Quartier de Sèvres and that it had been almost stopped in cases where the doctors had ordered the water of the Seine to be no longer used, and had substituted for it water from the artesian well of Grenelle. He adds his own experience at the Lycée Napoleon, which is supplied from the reservoir of the Pantheon, which receives its water from the Seine and the aqueduct d' Arcueil. He had known as many as fifteen students at once ill of diarrhoea, and the disease was stopped by the "alcoholization of all the water." [Footnote 139]
[Footnote 139: P, 106. M. Vacher here cites the Indian case quoted by Mr. Farre in is cholera report. The natives in India drink boiled water as a preventative against cholera; and it has been found that out of a great number in the family of a single proprietor in Calcutta, all of whom took this precaution, not a single person had been attacked even in the worst times of the prevalence of cholera. But Dr. Frank has disapproved at least the universality of this fact.]
As regards cholera, the proof is even more striking than that lately furnished in the case of London by the great and almost exclusive ravages of that disease in the eastern districts.Mortality by cholera seems ordinarily, as M. Vacher tells us, to follow the laws of general mortality, that is, it prevails most in those districts which are ordinarily the most unhealthy. But the one element of good or bad water supply seems to be enough to counterbalance the influence of the other causes which affect the comparative mortality of districts. For instance, difference of elevation is supposed to be one of these causes. Mr. Farre tells us that the mortality of a district is in inverse proportion to the elevation: that in nineteen high districts the proportion of deaths by cholera was as 33 to 10,000; in the same number of low districts, as 100 to 10,000. This law, however, is not enough, nor is it free from exception. Sometimes places loftily situated are attacked and lower places are spared. The elevation of Montmartre is almost equal to that of Belleville; but Montmartre had last year 3.6 cholera cases to 1000, Belleville only 1.1. Again, a rich quarter has ordinarily immense advantages over a poor quarter. The mean mortality by cholera in the poorerarrondissementsof Paris was almost three times as great as that in the richarrondissements. The reason is obvious: the poor work hard, have insufficient food, and are crowded together in discomfort and want; the rich are well fed, not overworked, well and healthily housed. Yet there was onearrondissementof Paris, and that one of the very poorest, which in the three first visitations of cholera (1832, 1849, 1854) had actually the lowest proportion of deaths by cholera of all these districts. In 1865, it had barely more deaths than the very richest of all, that of the Opéra, which headed the list on that occasion as the most lightly visited. Thisarrondissementwas Belleville. Another cause of comparatively greater mortality is density of population; but here again we are met by the fact that this fortunate Belleville is very densely populated. The nature of the soil is another. M. Vacher mentions a number of departments in the centre of France which have never yet been attacked by cholera. They are those which consist of a huge granitic mass, like an island in the midst of the more recent formations around them. Nevertheless, though this will explain much, and though Belleville has an advantage in this respect over many of thearrondissementsof Paris, still it has the same geological formation as Montmartre, which had three times as many deaths (in proportion) from cholera. In short, there is no way left of accounting for its comparative exemption, except that which we have already mentioned, the superior character of the water consumed by its inhabitants. The argument certainly seems as complete as it can possibly be, and we know that it has been strongly confirmed by our own late experience. Let us hope that no time may be lost in acting on the lesson which we have received.
We pass over some interesting statements on the meteorological phenomena which were observed during the prevalence of the cholera last year in Paris. [Footnote 140]
[Footnote 140: M. Vacher here tells a story of his endeavor to make some ozonometrical observations in the Paris hospitals, which were prohibited by the Directeur de l'Assistance publique—an officer of whom M. Vacher is continually complaining on the ground that they would frighten the patients. He remarks that on one occasion when travelling in the pontifical states, some gendarmes found in his possession a psychrometer and an aneroid barometer, and thought they were weapons of destruction. He would have been arrested but for M. Matteucci, then Director of Police. He complains bitterly of the comparative want of enlightenment in the "administration" of his own country. But no hospital would have allowed his experiments.]
M. Vacher rather contradicts current opinion by some remarks he has made as to the relation of cholera to other diseases. Sydenham has remarked that when several epidemic diseases are rife during the same season, one of them usually absorbs to itself, as it were, the bulk of the mortality, diminishing the influence of the rest even below the ordinary level. Thus in the year of the great plague in London, just two centuries ago, the smallpox was fatal to only thirty-eight persons, its average being about eleven hundred.However, the general fact is now questioned. In October last, though 4653 persons were carried off by cholera, the mortality by other diseases in Paris was greater than in any other month of the year. Yet October is usually one of the most healthy of all the months; and the epidemic maladies which ordinarily rage during the autumn—typhoid fever, small-pox, diphtheria, croup, whooping-cough, erysipelas, and puerperal fever—were prevalent to an extraordinary degree. It is curious also that there was an unusual number of children born dead.
The most destructive of all ordinary complaints is undoubtedly consumption. At Vienna it actually causes 25 per cent of the deaths, at Paris 16 per cent, at London nearly 12 per cent, at New York 14 per cent. It is more frequent in women than men; it is twice as destructive in poor quarters as in rich quarters; the age which suffers most from it is between 25 and 40. The difference between the sexes M. Vacher attributes to the more confined and retired life led by women. If observations in Paris are to be taken as enough to furnish a general conclusion, it would appear that more consumptive patients die in the spring than in the autumn. Here again a common opinion is overthrown. The most destructive months are March, April, and May: the least destructive are September, October, and November. We believe that in this country the fewest consumptive patients die in winter, and the most in summer. M. Vacher also attacks the notion that maritime climates are the best for consumptive cases. New York is situated on the sea, but it loses as many by consumption as London; and in the maritime counties of Kent, Sussex, Hampshire, Dorset, and Devonshire, the deaths by consumption are as 1 in 7 of the whole; while in the Midland counties of Warwickshire, Buckinghamshire, Worcestershire, and Oxfordshire, they are as 1 in 9. "Les phthisiques qu'on envoie à Nice et à Cannes, ou même sur les bords du Nil, sur la foi d'un passage de Celse, y meurent comme ceux qui restent sous le ciel natal. Ceux-la, seuls en reviennent guéris, chez qui le mal n'était pas sans ressources et qui auraient guéri partout ailleurs," (p. 129.) We must remember, however, that if such patients are sent to the seaside, and die there, they raise the death-rate there unfairly. M. Vacher insists that the guiding principle in selecting a place for the residence of a consumptive patient should be the absence of great variations in the temperature rather than the actual number of deaths by the disease. Consumption, he says, is unknown in Iceland; but that is not a reason for sending a consumptive patient to that island. As to New York, we have already quoted his observation as to the variableness of the temperature there, notwithstanding its maritime position.
Although we have already stated the results of a general comparison of the mortality in the four capitals—results very favorable to the salubrity of London—it may be interesting to our readers to learn the state of the case with regard to particular classes of disease. In most cases, of course, we have the list in actual numbers: our comparative immunity is only evident when the great excess of our population is considered. In zymotic diseases we have little more than a majority of a thousand over Paris; but then we must remember that in the year of which M. Vacher speaks between 5000 and 6000 persons in Paris died of cholera. This, therefore, would seem to be one of the classes of disease as to which we are really worst off. As to constitutional diseases, consumption, cancer, scrofula, gout, rheumatism, and others, Paris exceeds us in proportion; and it is the same with diseases of the nervous system. From diseases of the heart we lose between two and three times as many as the Parisians; this proportion, therefore, is greatly against us. On the other hand, in diseases of the digestive organs, Paris, notwithstanding its inferior population, exceeded London by a hundred deaths in the last year.London, however, regains a sad preeminence when we come to diseases of the respiratory organs, asthma, bronchitis, influenza, and the like: Paris losing between 7000 and 8000 a year against our 12,500. It is in the commoner diseases that the worst features of London mortality in 1865 were found. Typhoid was nearly three times as fatal last year in London as in Paris; measles four times as fatal; scarlatina not far short of twenty times; whooping-cough more than thirteen times. As the population of London is to that of Paris as five to three, it is clear to how great an extent the balance was against us. It was probably an accident. These diseases prevail very generally for a time, and then retire: and we have lately been visited by a period of their prevalence.
We have hitherto spoken only of diseases; but M. Vacher's researches extend to the comparative frequency of deaths of other kinds. In suicides, New York has the best account to give, Paris the worst. To speak roughly, London has twice as many suicides as New York, Vienna twice as many as London, Paris more than twice as many as Vienna—in comparison, that is, with the total number of deaths of all kinds. Theactualnumbers stand thus: Paris 716, London 267, Vienna 813, New York 36. For the last nine years there has been little change in the number in London; in New York it has diminished, in Paris it has increased, having more than doubled itself since 1839. The two years, 1848 and 1830, which were marked by revolutionary movements, were also marked by a diminution in the number of suicides. The relative proportion of suicides increases with age; that is, it is four times as frequent with people above 70 as with people between 20 and 30. Paris has for a long time been noted as a city in which there were more suicides than any other. More than eighty years ago, Mercier noted this, and attributed it to the rage for speculation. Other writers have since attempted to find a reason for it in the prevalence of democratic ideas. We suppose that both democratic ideas and speculation are not unknown in New York, yet that city (and indeed the State itself) is remarkably free from suicides, and a great number of those that occur are said to be of Europeans.
But if Paris bears the palm in self-slaughter, no city can vie with London in slaughter of another kind. Violent deaths are nearly three times as frequent in London as in Paris. As many as 2241 persons were slain in London last year; as many, that is, as would be enough for the number of the killed in a sanguinary battle: 328 were burnt, 405 were suffocated, (this probably includes children overlaid by their mothers,) 40 were poisoned, 767 disposed of by "fractures and contusions," 232 were killed by carriage accidents; leaving 469 to be laid to the account of other accidents. In the other three capitals the proportion of deaths by accidents to the whole number of deaths ranges from under one per cent to under two per cent; in London it is just three per cent. Finally, London had 132 murders to give an account of in 1865, Paris had 10, and New York only 5.
We are sorry that the last fact which we glean from M. Vacher's interesting tables must be one rather disparaging to the great Transatlantic city which we have last named. Disparaging, that is, positively rather than comparatively; and we fear that, if the statistics which we are now to quote do not reveal a terrible state of things in London also, it is because on this head our admirable system of registration has given M. Vacher no assistance at all. "Quant à la ville de Londres," he says, "il m'a été impossible d'arriver à connaitre le chiffre de sesmort-nés. Le Bulletin des Naissances et des Morts ne donne d'ailleurs aucun renseignement à ce sujet." He expresses his opinion that, if the numbers were given, London would have quite as bad a tale to tell as Paris or New York. But the figures in these cities are sufficiently startling.In Paris the children "born dead" are to the whole number of deaths as one to ten; in New York as one to fifteen; in Vienna they are as one to twenty-three. Twenty years ago, the Préfet of the Seine addressed a circular to themairesof Paris, in which he drew their attention to the great number of these children, and pointed out that it was natural to conclude that their deaths were too often the result of crime. In New York similar complaints have been made, and we are significantly told that full reports cannot be obtained on the subject. As to London, we find a large number of deaths, 1400 or 1500 a year, set down to "premature birth and debility." We fear it would be quite impossible to give an account of the number of births which areprevented—contrary to the laws of God and man alike. We need hardly do more than allude to the frightful increase of infanticide, on which Dr. Lankester has lately spoken so strongly. Mr. Humble's Essay on the subject in Mr. Orby Shipley's volume contains some very startling statistics. There are as many as 12,000 women in London to whom this crime may be imputed. "In other words," says Mr. Humble, "one in every thirty women (I presume, between fifteen and forty-five) is a murderess." We must hope that there is exaggeration about this; but if it were one in every thirty thousand, it would be bad enough—a state of things calling down the judgments of heaven on the land.
The Anglican writer to whom we have just alluded speaks with some apparent prejudice against the most obvious remedy for infanticide—the establishment of foundling hospitals, perfectly free. There may be some objections to these institutions, but we must confess that, in the face of the facts on which we are commenting, they seem to us rather like arguments against life-boats because they may encourage oversecurity in exposure to the dangers of the sea. If Mr. Humble will read, or read again, Dr. Burke Ryan's Essay on Infanticide, which gained the Fothergillian prize medal some time ago, and in which the fact seems to be proved that the crime is more common in England than anywhere else, he will perhaps see reason to conclude, from the French statistics there adduced, that foundling hospitals are more effectual in preventing this abominable evil than anything else that has ever been devised.