From the luminous atmosphere of the Sun I proceed to its opaque body, which, by calculation, from the power it exerts upon the planets, we know to be of great solidity; and from the phenomena of the dark spots, many of which, probably, on account of their high situations, have been repeatedly seen, and otherwise denote inequalities in their level, we surmise that its surface is diversified with mountains and vallies. What has been said enables us to come to some very important conclusions, by remarking, that this way of considering the Sun and its atmosphere, removes the great dissimilarity we have hitherto been used to find between its condition, and that of the rest of the great bodies of the solar system. The Sun, viewed in this light, appears to be nothing else than a very eminent, large, and lucid planet, evidently the first, or in strictness of speaking, the only primary one of our system; all others being truly secondary to it. Its similarity to the other globes of the solar system, with regard to its solidity, its atmosphere, and its diversified surface; the rotation upon its axis, and the fall of heavy bodies, leads us on to suppose that it is, most probably, also inhabited, like the rest of the planets, by beings, whose organs are adapted to the peculiar circumstances of that vast globe. Whatever fanciful poets might say, in making the Sun the abode of blessed spirits, or angry moralists devise, in pointing it out as a fit place for the punishment of the wicked, it does not appear that they had any other foundation for their assertions than mere opinion and vague surmise. I think myself authorised, upon astronomical principles, to propose the sun as an inhabitable world; and am persuaded that the foregoing observations, with the conclusions I have drawn from them, are fully sufficient to answer every objection that may be made against it. It may not, however, be amiss to remove a certain difficulty, which arises from the effect of the Sun's rays upon our globe. The heat which is here, at the distance of ninety-five millions of miles, produced by these rays, is so considerable, that it may be objected, that the surface of the globe of the Sun itself must be scorched up beyond all conception. This may be very substantially answered by many proofs drawn from natural philosophy, which show, that heat is produced by the Sun's rays only when they act upon a calorific medium; they are the cause of the production of heat, by uniting with the matter of fire, which is contained in the substances that are heated; as the collision of flint and steel will inflame a magazine of gunpowder, by putting all the latent fire it contains into action. But an instance or two of the manner in which the solar rays produce their effect, will bring this home to our most common experience. On the tops of mountains of a sufficient height, at an altitude where clouds can very seldom reach, to shelter them from the direct rays of the Sun, we always find regions of ice and snow. Now, if the solar rays themselves conveyed all the heat we find on this globe, it ought to be hottest where their course is least interrupted. Again, our aëronatus all confirm the coldness of the upper regions of the atmosphere; and since, therefore, even on our Earth the heat of any situation depends upon the aptness of the medium to yield to the impression of the solar rays, we have only to admit, that, on the Sun itself, the elastic fluids composing its atmosphere, and the matter on its surface, are of such a nature as not to be capable of any excessive affection from its own rays; and, indeed, this seems to be proved by the copious emission of them; for if the elastic fluids of the atmosphere, or the matter contained on the surface of the Sun, were of such a nature as to admit of an easy chemical combination with its rays, their emission would be much impeded. Another well known fact is, that the solar focus of the largest lens, thrown into the air, will occasion no sensible heat in the place where it has been kept for a considerable time, although its power of exciting combustion, when proper bodies are exposed, should be sufficient to fuse the most refractory substances. From these, and the foregoing arguments, I conclude that the Sun is a planet, abundantly stored with inhabitants. OH! wear this simple chain for me, An emblem of my own decay. The rent links of a broken heart! Recal the hours when Love's warm kiss, Gave transport to our cloudless youth; Then fled for ever-like thy truth. Had'st thou but loved-had'st thou but smiled. And keep it as a parting token Unlike his heart, remain'd unbroken. The Monthly Magazine, for October, p. 427, says "According to M. Fourier, the temperature of the space occupied by our planetary system, is very nearly forty octogesimal degrees, or ninety degrees of Fahrenheit's scale colder than the temperature of freezing ice."—Ed. M. CHERVIN'S RESEARCHES ON THE THIS distinguished individual has been engaged, during nearly the whole of his life, in the study of this formidable disease; neither dangers nor pecuniary sacrifices could change his intention to visit almost every part of America where this calamity reigns. He did not return, until after ten years of incessant study and incredible toil, to his native country, to reap the fruits of his admirable zeal. By the following concise account of his travels, we intend to call the attention of our readers to the work of M. Chervin, which is shortly expected to appear. In the year 1814, he left Paris for Guada. loupe, which he reached in December of the same year. Before he began his journey, he had eagerly studied all French, Italian, English, and Spanish works on the subject, and from them he was disposed to believe in the contagious nature of the yellow fever; but he endeavoured to make his own observations, free of all prejudices, in order to arrive at a clear result. During the year 1815, he had no opportunity of observing the disease, but in 1816 and 1817, he met with it very frequently, under the most varied circumstances; he then began to doubt the correctness of his former opinion. He then went to Martinique, Antigua, St. Christophe, St. Martin, St. Thomas, and Portorico. In August, 1817, he arrived at St. Domingo, where the yellow fever happened to rage in its most malignant form. Having made many observations there, he went to Jamaica, thence to Cuba, and Port-au-Prince. He adapted his route always as much as possible to the course of the disease. During his absence from Jamaica, the fever had made terrible ravages amongst two newly-arrived regiments; on his return, it was still very violent, and afforded him the best opportunity of examining the most im portant circumstances with regard to its contagious or non-contagious nature. the In November he went to Havannah, where he remained till the 12th of February, 1820. At New Orleans he arrived at the period when the fever generally appears; epidemy was terrible; he witnessed it during six months, and then left for Savannah, being informed that the disease raged there with an unprecedented malignity. He was, however, disappointed; by neglect of the Captain, his ship proceeded at once to Charlestown, where he was very well received. He remained but a short time, and went to Savannah, notwithstanding the most anxious representations of his friends, and in spite of the information that no less than six physicians of that place had fallen a sacrifice to the fever. When he arrived, in October, the rage of the epidemy had by no means subsided, and he found an ample field for observation. He was, indeed, so deeply engaged in his studies, that he forgot to write to his friends of New Orleans, who were so certain of his death, that, in the Medical Society of that town, a funeral oration was read to his memory. They were soon, however, agreeably surprised at the news, that M. Chervin, after staying two months at Savannah, had pursued his journey towards the North. He visited North Carolina, Virginia, Alexandria, George's Town, Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York. In the beginning of 1822, he left Boston for Guadaloupe, and having visited Paramaribo, Cayenne, Demerara, Barbadoes, &c., he sailed from Martinique to Spain, where he arrived in February, 1823. The number of documents which M. Chervin has collected exceeds eight hundred ; they consist, mostly, in authentic statements of the physicians and the magistrates of those towns and districts which he visited, and which are subject to the epidemy. Besides the valuable results of the most ample experience as to its treatment, they contain most important materials for deciding the question of its contagious or non-contagious nature. Chervin has made more than FIVE HUNDRED post-mortem examinations. He has often swallowed some of the black fluid found in the stomach of the deceased; he rubbed the whole surface of his body with it, and always remained free from infection. The following are the general results of his inquiries :-Of more than five-hundred competent practitioners, only forty-eight are in favour of the contagiousness of the yellow fever, four-hundred and eighty-three being decidedly against it. In those parts of America where it most frequently rages, nobody believes in contagion; the extension of the disease seems entirely owing to the atmospheric constitution, and to local causes; the latter consists, partly, in putrid effluvia; there exists, in no case, a clear proof of contagion having taken place, and all assertions to the contrary are founded either on false testimonies, on defective observations, or on erroneous inferences from correct observations. Lancet. COMPARATIVE HAPPINESS OF THE SEXES. (From the Oriental Herald.) [IN a new French Periodical, entitled "Le Gymnase," is an article on this interesting subject, which we have deemed worthy of translation for our pages, under the convic tion, that there is no country in which, and no class of readers by whom, it may not be perused with interest. The great general question undertaken to be discussed by the writer is this-" Is there an inequality in the division of moral and natural advantages among the different classes of society? If this inequality exists, what are its causes? And ought these causes to be perpetuated ?" The first branch of this inquiry is on the collateral question" Are women generally less unhappy than men ?" and this is discussed below. We shall watch the progress of these papers with care, and continue to select from them such as may appear to us to be of the greatest merit, without, however, wishing it to be understood that we concur in all the views taken by the writers, as the papers are controversial, and will contain very opposite opinions from different pens.-Ed.] ARE WOMEN GENERALLY LESS UNHAPPY THAN MEN? I will suppose that an inhabitant of the other world suddenly finds himself transported into one of our circles. He sees men whose dress is plain, and entirely destitute of grace, wandering about like shadows, and standing, like lacqueys, around women, to whom they proffer the most assiduous and respectful attentions; these latter adorned in the most elegant manner, sparkling with jewels, seated like queens on their thrones, and, if they make a single step, attracting all eyes towards them. Ask him which of these two beings is the happier. Assuredly he will not hesitate for a moment: we shall appear to him nothing better than poor wretches drawn in the train of our sovereign's car-slaves humbly destined to adorn their triumph. But this being of the other world must not be caught by these appearances. In order to be convinced that they do not deceive him, he must interrogate the females. But, what will be his surprise when he hears almost universally from these gay dancers, with their flowers and their trinkets, nothing but elegies on their fate, but bitter complaints on the inequality of their lot? Will he, from this alone, change his opinion? He might be tempted to do so; for, if it is a personal thing, and it depends exclusively on the judgment of the individual, it is happiness; in the same manner as to believe ones' self unhappy, is to be so in reality. But he is desirous first to consult an inhabitant of the country on so singular a contradiction. From him he will learn that women have a right to complain; and this, according to my ideas, is the manner in which he will explain this solution : The principle of happiness being within us, its first basis consists in the manner of being completely individual, which we have the power of creating within ourselves. Now, it is impossible that any but a powerful and independent being should thus be able to trace out his own course. Passive, rather than active, woman is necessarily always in a state of dependence. Made for the use of another, as creation clearly indicates, she is attached to his destiny, she is subordinate to him, and, in her existence, completely secondary; to wish to belong to herself, and to live on her own account, would be almost to revolt against "Genesis." To be two, to lead a life of association, like those cyphers whose only value is derived from those to which they are joined, is her true vocation. It is not gallant, but it is nevertheless true, to affirm, that we could more easily live without females than they could without us; what is with us a desire, is with them an absolute necessity. Hence it follows, that they await happiness, that they receive their condition, instead of seeking it and making it for themselves. I place the second element of happiness in an enfranchisement, as complete as can be realised, from all social restraints and shackles. Now, females are in general the victims of society, inasmuch as its sceptre weighs still more heavily on them than on us. Madame de Staël was right to depict them as bent beneath the leaden mantle of Dante, which mediocrity throws over the shoulders of those who pass beneath its yoke. All their movements are prescribed to them, as to automatons. Should it have pleased nature to endow them richly with intellectual faculties, the world exacts that, instead of cultivating, they should smother them, and their talents cannot be exhibited to the world under pain of being exposed to the severest ridicule. Should their feelings be deep and intense, obliged by duty to dissimulate, and by modesty to conceal them, they are reduced to the necessity of hiding from every eye all their warmest and most dearly-cherished sentiments. The Italian lines "Mi sento morire, Ma non posso dir perchè," would be an appropriate motto for them. If they attempt to rebel against this code, which is not the less imperious from its not being a written one, they only render their fate more wretched by the public blame, which crushes them with its vengeance. Women are particularly the victims of the social institution called marriage. Young men marry when they please-young females when they can; which is very different, and almost always by the choice of their parents, a choice which frequently empoisons irrevocably the remainder of their lives. A husband expects to receive them pure in the most rigorous sense of the word, and only brings them in exchange a heart and a person equally used. Slight infractions of conjugal fidelity, he allows himself as a mere trifle, whilst, in return, he imposes on them the most severe reserve. And this is not all; they are obliged to study, and conform to his taste, to keep alive his love by the charm of variety; and, as if all the obligations were on their side, and he owed them nothing, claims the right with impunity to be ill-tempered, neglectful, and unkind: seeming to act like Count Almaviva, on the principle, that it is the task of man to win them; theirs to retain us. The law itself seems to be an accomplice in this inequity. Provided the husband does not carry on an open and avowed intercourse with his mistress, it countenances all his other faults, as mere peccadillos, to which it is necessary to appear blinded; and these same faults, on the part of the wife, are made the cause of a separation, and often of an ignominious confinement. And to whose judgment are they submitted? To that of persons who are animated by an esprit de corps against the whole sex. Another source of unhappiness to females is, the false and illiberal interpretations to which their conduct is subjected. It is now a thing acknowledged, that a contempt for public opinion is rather a subject of pride to man; females, on the contrary, dare not brave it. All in this point resemble the wife of Cæsar; they must not even be suspected. The facility of following the laws of nature is undoubtedly a third basis of happiness. Now, woman is created for love, for tenderness, for the affections of an impassioned soul. And yet her nature is incessantly at variance with her duty, and with prudence; in the struggle of the passions, martyrdom is her lot. Marceline has truly said "Traitées en mineures pour leurs biens, elles sont punies en majeures pour leurs fautes. They are therefore condemned, by the necessity of overcoming their inclinations, to an eternal constraint, to the most bitter tears. On a small or large scale they are so many Sapphos, Didos, and Ninas, forsaken lovers, consuming their days in melancholy, or groaning, like Phædrus, beneath the stroke of fate. What is to us a mere episode, an amusement, is to them an entire history, and death: their only resource, is an exalted devotion, taken, as by Julia, as the soul's opium, as a relief to their tender sighs. It is necessary for them to deceive themselves by another kind of love to detach themselves from their earthly miseries by something supernatural, which elevates their imagination to the ethereal regions. The cross of the Saviour is the refuge of hopeless love, according to the enthusiast, Amélié des Brigands, and the convent is the Christian's Leucadian leap. Old age, which with man comes late, with woman arrives at a very early period; and with it disappears her capacity to please. There are very few whose merit, in the eyes of the world, lasts longer than their youth and beauty; whilst, in the life of man, there are various epochs, and a great age seems only an additional dignity to him. They appear to have only one destination, but an ephemeral kind of existence. In growing old, they survive themselves they remain on the stage after their part has been performed. Gray hairs, which are so great an ornament to the brow of a veteran, are with them a kind of degradation. They are compelled, therefore, to abdicate with a good grace and in good time; to say adieu, under pain of ridicule, to ribbons and adorers, to resign themselves to the cap and the melancholy isolation of grandmothers. The abdication of the Diocletians and the Syllas can give but an imperfect idea of such a heart breaking struggle as this. The latter, at least, were supported by a hidden sentiment of glory and ambition, but for the former, nothing supports them, and no recompense awaits their humble courage; they are brutally put aside, to be no more thought of. It is time to pass from the principal points of our thesis to the objections. First, then, women, it is said, possess more sensibility than we do; if their heads have a point less, their hearts have a fibre more; consequently the delights of maternity, the pleasures of the senses, are felt by them with greater intensity. To this it is sufficient to reply, that if they meet with more misery than happiness, this sensibility itself is a fatal gift, which turns to the disadvantage of those to whose lot it belongs. It would, however, be a capital error to imagine that happiness consists in those lively pleasures and delights which give one a distaste for the ordinary enjoyments of life. But, it is added, women are freed from the embarrassment of literary labours, serious business, and especially from the weight of public affairs. To this many answers may be returned. In the first place, this protecting love which treats them with so high a hand, which recals the age in which sages hesitated to allow them a rank amongst the human race, the possession of a soul, and a right to the enjoyment of another life-this insolent manner of confining them like children to the domestic hearth; of treating them like inferior beings, like perpetual minors, whom it is requisite to defend against their own imbecility; of interdicting them even from the acquirement of knowledge as pedantry, and fame as an éclat inconsistent with their delicacy-offends and humiliates many, and is towards a great number an injustice, which time only has consecrated. The more they feel themselves capable of higher things, the more oppressive becomes to them this incapacity of action, this sacrifice of the noblest faculties. Were this contempt merited, what would result from it-a soporific langour created by the uniformity of their existence. Instead of the multiplied interests which diversify that of man, sewing, embroidery, the most insipid and trivial conversation, would form the only occupations of their lives. Ennui would become a real malady, which would pursue, and at length kill them, especially in the higher and more indolent classes. Lastly, we shall be told, that women are happy and proud of the successes of their husbands. But these husbands do not ordinarily seek the crown at the hands of their wives. It is the suffrage of the world they are ambitious of obtaining; it is for the applause of mankind they labour. After the example of Boissy's "Homme du Jour," they keep their ill-humour for home, their coldness for intimacy. Thus, of all those who are connected with these illustrious beings, their unhappy partners are often the most to be pitied, either because all their miscalculations, all the disappointments and irritations their self-love has experienced, are vented upon them; or because, as Lady Milfort says of the favourite of a prince, "they alone see to what a mean and insignificant being this wonderful man can reduce himself." You forget, it is again urged, the delights of the toilette and coquetry. So much homage, so much admiration, must certainly compensate, and more than compensate, for any other evils. The objection is a powerful one; and I must, in fact, avow, according to the energetic expression of some father of the church,' whose name I have forgotten-"La femme est un animal qui se délecte dans sa parure." But if this ardent desire to please has its delights, what miseries also are not attached to it! what disappointments, what vexations, do not the slightest accident of the toilette occasion, when it is become a thing of such importance! The greatest coxcomb is nothing in comparison to the young enraged female, who, from vexation at the ill arrangement of a trimming, will stamp and trample her dress under her feet. It is true, also, that custom and politeness has prescribed to us a certain degree of attention towards females; but too much importance must not be attached to mere superficial forms, which do not in the slightest degree spring from the heart. Of what importance are concessions like these, merely exterior and almost derogatory, since they evince neither regard nor esteem. Observe also, that they are limited to certain places, to the circles of society. These same men would act very differently in private. Even in our theatres, should any malignant taunt be directed towards the female sex, or the grossest injuries be heaped on them, they will point their glasses at them with a triumphant smile, aş if to enjoy their confusion, and to assure themselves that the shaft has penetrated deeply, and that they are suffering well under it. Their submissive slaves in the evening, men become their despots in the morning; and happy are they if they are not made to pay too dearly for this slight concession! Shall I gay it? There are some amongst us who are wicked enough to take advantage of their weaknesses, and designedly to caress and flatter their very defects; but the only aim of this is their utter destruction. Their eloquent advocate, Madame de Staël, has truly called them, "the victims of the temple in which they are said to be adored." Women, then, have a right to complain, were it only historically and by comparison; and they do complain, either aloud or in secret. One of their principal arts is that of seeking always to obtain homage, without even appearing to desire it. But as this homage is, at bottom, their greatest want, and is as necessary to their existence as the air they breathe, regret is not the less painfully felt because so often concealed from every eye. They would belie their nature were they not to experience it. It may without doubt be justly observed to them, that, like the great lords of the ancien regime, they have themselves co-operated to effect this revolution, and compromised their power by their imprudent love of novelty. When libertines have systematically undertaken to degrade them, they have lent themselves so tamely to the game which disgraced them, that there scarcely remains a possibility of respecting them. The pagan, Jupiter, lost his reputation by mixing without restraint with the lowest of his subjects. The female sex will resemble him-they will connive with the destroyers of their altars, and divest themselves of every charm in making themselves too accommodating. I will only add one word on an observation frequently made; that suicides are much less frequent with them than amongst men. I explain this by the fact of their being much more habituated to suffering; they are more patient invalids, because they are more accustomed to sickness. That which is adventurous and éclatant in voluntarily throwing themselves on an unknown destiny, alarms, and restrains them. In general, they possess, in a less degree than we do, that intrepidity which braves or surmounts misfortunes, but more of the resignation which supports them. A BEAUTIFUL LATIN THOUGHT ON SLEEP. SoMNE levis ! quanquam certissima mortis imago, Attempted in English. Soft, balmy sleep, tho' emblem of the dead, Be thou the friend, the partner of my bed! Sweet slumber come! for ah! how great the joy, Thus without life to live, thus without death to die. |