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That murmurs through the dewy mead,
To be a guest with them! •
4. For thee I pmted, thee I prized,
Whate'er1*11 loved before;
Farewell! we meet no more !m Cowfer
LVI. — SPIRIT THE MOTIVE POWER OP THE BODY.
1. A Machine is a combination of parts composed of material Bubstances, solid or fluid, or both, as the case may be; having certain definite forms and arrangements, and possessing certain capabilities of transmitting force or motion. Its objects are to move, press, sustain, combine, divide, or otherwise, those substances to which it is applied. But the machine itself, merely as such, cannot accomplish this.
2. It possesses not its own principle of motion ; it cannot urge' its own levers," or stretch its own cords, or turn its, own wheels, or put its own fluids into circulation. The application of some efficient cause, extrinsic to and altogether distinct from the machine itself, is necessary to accomplish this. This extrinsic cause, whatever it be, from which the machine derives its motion and efficacy, is called the prime mover.
3. The point on which I desire now to fix your attention is, that this prime mover is altogether distinct from and independent of the machine; that it possesses, or at least may possess, no property in common with it; and that its existence, or nonexistence, is not decided by the existence or non-existence of the machine.
4. The machine may be broken, destroyed, worn by age, or otherwise disabled, and yet the prime mover may still retain its original energy. Thus a steam-engine is moved by fire, a'mill by wind or water; the steam-engine may deteriorate by age, and i the mill be broken by accident, and yet the fire, and the wind, and the water, will still preserve their powers.
5. These observations, which correctly describe a machine, may with propriety be applied to the human body. This body is also a combination of parts, composed of material substances, solid and fluid, having certain definite forms and arrangements, possessing certain capabilities of motion and force, destined and admirably adapted to obey the dictation of its prime mover, the living principle, the immaterial spirit."
6. So long as it pleases the Great Engineer who constructed this body to permit its connection with that intellectual spirit, Bo long will it obey the impulses which it receives; nor does the decay in this bodily machine infer any corresponding decay of the moving spirit, any more than the wear and tear of a steamengine proves the destruction of the principle of heat which gives it motion.
7. Neither are we to infer, because this bodily machine, in its obedience to the vital spirit, acts mechanically, and follows all the ordinary properties and laws of matter, that, therefore, the spirit which moves it partakes of the nature of matter, or is answerable to its laws, any more than we should infer that the levers, wheels, pumps, chains, cords, and valves, of a steamengine, are regulated by the laws which govern heat. On the contrary, I submit it to the candor" of the most sceptical48 materialist," whether the whole tendency of anal'ogy" does not directly overthrow the hypoth'esis," that the principle of life is organic."
8. We are assured in the Scriptures" that in the first instance "God formed man of the dust of the ground;" that is to say, He created that curious and beautiful machine, the organized human body ; — but that body was still an inert structure, without the principle of motion, or spontaneity." A more noble work remained to be performed; the immaterial spirit, the divine essence, the prime mover of this machine, was to be applied; and, accordingly, we learn that God "breathed into his nostrils the breath of life;" and then, and not till then, "man became a living soul." Lardner.
LVII. — THE LION AND THE SPANIEL.
1. In the afternoon our company went again to the Tower to see the great lion and the little dog, as well as to hear the recent story of their friendship. They found the place thronged, and all were obliged to pay treble prices on account of the unprecedented novelty of the show; so that the keeper, in a short space, acquired a littlo fortune.
2. The great cage in the front was occupied by a beast, who, by way of preeminence, was called the king's lion; and, while he traversed the limits of his straitened dominions, he was attended by a small and very beautiful black spaniel,38 who frisked and gambolled about him, and at times would pretend to snarl and bite at him; and again the noble animal, with an air of
fond com'plaisanee, would hold down his head, while the little creature licked his formidable chaps." Their history, as the keeper related it, was as follows:
3. It was customary for all who were unable or unwilling to pay their sixpence, to bring a dog or cat as an oblation" to the beast in lieuixi of money to the keeper. Among others, a fellow had caught up in the streets this pretty black spaniel, who was accordingly thrown into the cage of the great lion. Immediately the little animal trembled, and shivered, and crouched, and threw itself on its back, and put forth its tongue, and held up its paws in sup'plicatory attitudes,40 as an acknowledgment of superior power, and praying for mercy.
4. In the mean time, the lordly brute, instead of devouring it, beheld it with an eye of philosophic inspection. He turned it over with one paw, and then turned it with the other; smelled of it, and seemed desirous of courting a further acquaintance. The keeper, on seeing this, brought a large mess of his own family dinner; but the lion kept aloof, and refused to eat, keeping his eye on the dog, and inviting him, as it were, to be his taster. At length, the little animal's fears being something abated, and his appetite" quickened by the smell of the victuals," he approached slowly, and with trembling ventured to eat. The lion then advanced gently and began to partake, and they finished their meal very lovingly together.
5. From this day the strictest friendship commenced between them, — a friendship consisting of all possible affection and tenderness on the part of the lion, and of the utmost confidence and boldness on the part of the dog; insomuch that he would lay himself down to sleep within the fangs and under the jaws of his terrible patron.
6. A gentleman who had lost the spaniel, and had ad'vertised83 a reward of two guineas" to the finder, at length heard of the adventure, and went to reclaim the dog. "You see, sir," said the keeper, "it would' be a great pity to part such loving friends; however, if you insist upon having your property, you must even be pleased to take him yoursejf; it is a task that I would not engage in for five hundred guineas." The gentleman rose into great wrath, but finally chose to acquiesce rather than have a personal dispute with the lion.
7. As Mr. Felton had a curiosity to see the two friends eat together, he sent for twenty pounds of beef, which was accordingly cut in pieces, and given into the cage; when "immediately the little brute, whose appetite happened to be eager at the time, was desirous of making a monop'oly of the whole, ind putting his pairs upon the meat, and grumbling and barking, he audaciously flew in the face of the lion. But the generous creature; instead of being offended with his im'potent companion,1' started back, and seemed terrified at the fury of his attack, neither attempted to eat a bit till his favorite had tacitly46 given permission.
8. When they were both gorged, the lion stretched and turned himself, and lay down in an evident posture for repose; but this his sportive companion would not admit. He frisked and gambolled about him, barked at him, would now scrape and tear at his head with his claws, and again seize him by the ear and bite and pull away; while the noble beast appeared affected by no other sentiment save that of pleasure and complacence. But let us proceed to the tragic catas'trophe of this extraordinary" story; a story still known to many, as delivered down by tradition from father to son.
9. In about twelve months the little spaniel sickened and died, and left his loving patron the most desolate6 of creatures. For a time the lion did not appear to conceive otherwise than that his favorite was asleep. He would continue to smell of him, and then would stir him with his nose, and turn him over with his paw ; but, finding that all his efforts to awake him were vain, he would traverse his cage from end to end at a swift and uneasy pace, then stop and look down upon him with a fixed and drooping regard; and again27 lift his head on high, and open hia horrible throat, and prolong a roar, as of distant thunder, for several minutes together.
10. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcass from him; he watched it perpetually, and would suffer nothing to touch it. The keeper then endeavored to tempt him with variety of victuals, but he turned with loathing from all that was offered. They then put several living dogs into his cage, and these he instantly tore piecemeal, but left their members" on the floor.37 His passion being thus inflamed, he would dart his fangs into the board, and pluck away large splinters, and again grapple at the bars of his cage, and seem enraged at his restraint from tearing the world to pieces.
11. Again, as quite spent, he would stretch himself by the remains of his beloved associate, and gather him in with his paws, and put him to his bosom; and then utter under-roars of such terrible melancholy as seemed to threaten all around, for the loss of his little playfellow,94 the only friend, the only com« panion, that he had upon earth.
LVIII. — TIIE IMPRISONMENT OF BONNIVAKD.
1. Failing in his enterprise for the liberation of Geneva,"' ISonnfvard1' was transported to the castle of Chillon," where a dreadful captivity awaited him. Bound by the middle of hia body to a chain, the other end of which was attached to an iron ring in a pillar,90 he remained in this condition six years, free to move the length only of his chain, and able to recline only where103 it allowed him to extend himself.
2. The pavement was hollowed by his measured tread; but the thought that his captivity would perhaps avail nothingTM for the enfran'cnTsement of his country, and that geneva and he were doomed to perpetual fetters, must have been more wearing to his mindm than his steps to the stone.
"Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place,
And thy sad floor an altar; for't was trod,
Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod,
3. flow happened it, in this long night, which no day broke in upon, and where the silence was disturbed by no sound save that of the waves of the lake dashing against the walls of his dungeon, — how happened it that the mind did not overpower the body, or the body the mind? Why was it that the jailer, on going his rounds some morning, did not find his prisoner either dead or mad? One begetting — one eternal idea, — was it not enough to break the heart, or paralyze the brain?
4. And, during this time, — during these six years, during thia eternity, — not a cry, not a murmur, as his jailers testified, escaped from the prisoner; although, without doubt, when the tempest was unloosed, — when the gale tore up the waves, when the rain and the blast lashed the walls, — he too had his utterance; for then his voice might be lost in the great voice of nature; for then God only could distinguish his cries and sobs; and, the next day, his jailers, who had not feasted on his despair, would find him calm and resigned, — the tempest in his heart subdued* and hushed, like that in the sky.
5. Ah! without that — without that — would he not have dashed his brains out against the pillar to which he was chained? Could he have awaited that day when his countrymen simultaneously burst into his prison to rescue and to honor him? A hundred voices then exclaimed, "Bonnivard, thou art free !" — 'And Geneva?" — "Is also free!" Original Translation.