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Cetters from a Jlljgstrian.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
HOMEOPATHY—NO. 2.
Roswell, Cobb Cos. Geo. )
September 26, 1848. )
My Dear Friend : —With right hearty good
will, I proceed to the task your letter impo
ses upon me; and will both show you that
the disciples of Hahnemann are “ dishonest
as well as untrue to the principles they pub
lish —and that they are unworthy the confi
dence of the people.” And first, let me re
mind you that some physicians still believe
jn what has long been known as the “ expect
ant plan.” This is what the Homeopaths
have adopted—they stand by and watch—
while nature and imagination cure the dis
ease. Their remedies, which in an ordinary
dose, contain but the u millionth of a grain,”
and sometimes, only a trillionth, octillionth,
and even a decillionth—the which cannot be
detected by any chemical analysis—can have
no effect on the animal economy. See the
transcendental-beauty of the theory of this
“muddle-brained German.” “With large do
ses,” we are told, “ patients may be treated
homeopathically, but then we may frequently
expect a positive increase of the disease , or even
death. The experience of such painful and
dangerous aggravation, in no case necessary
to a cure, led Hahnemann to employ minute
doses.” This is the language of Dr. Black.
It is maintained by others, that the smaller
the dose, the greater its power over the dis
ease —if only it be exactly adapted to the “to
tality of the symptoms.” This is the theory
of Gross, of Dappler, and of Hahnemann him
self. Gross, who tells us that he “ has been
transported into the open and peaceful oasis of
pure observation and experience,” gives us
the result of that “ observation ” in the fol
lowing language: “by continuing the pro
cess of potentialization, we finally arrive at a
degree where mildness and adequate energy
of action become united in the remedial agent.”
Now by this, my dear Col., you are to under
stand, that a medicine of the 200’th potence,
would have no effect; whereas, the same ar
ticle at the 800’th degree of trituration,
would effect a speedy cure —or that remedy
which at the 800 ’th degree of potentializa
tion would be inert—at the 2,000 th, would
be a powerful destroyer of disease. To show
you the perfect absurdity of these infinitesi
mal doses, we quote from Dr. Wood of Edin
burgh. “Os such minute division, no lan
guage can give even the slightest idea; and
though calculations may express it in figures,
yet they fail to convey any mental concep
tion of its amount. A billionth of moments
have not yet elapsed since the creation of
the world; and toproduce a decillionth, that
number must be multiplied by a million seven
Again; times.” “a single grain of any sub
stance in the thirtieth dilution, would extend
between the sun and earth, 1262,626,262,-
626,262,626,262.626,262,626,262,626,262,626,
262 separate times.”
But, my friend, neither you nor the honrn
opaths shall accuse me of unfairness, and to
convince you that Dr. Wood is correct in the
preceding statement, I give you the following
from “ Dr. Rummel’s Essay on the Highest
Potencies.” The Dr. in speaking of some ob
servations he had made with a solar micro
scope on infinitesimal doses, says: “It is an
enchanting sight, these millions of points;
a nd to imagine that the longest line of figures
is scarcely sufficient to express the littleness
of those atoms. Considering that every par
ticle of the attenuations up to 200, has been
attenuated 200 times, and that these atoms,
J f placed side by side, would fill a space far
greater than that of our solar system —we are
bewildered.”* Not very strange that he
should be. Hear also, Dr. Black. “Proceed
rag on the moderate assumption, that by each
trituration the particles are reduced to the
* Homeopathic Examiner—(N. S.) vol. 1, p. 182.
SQiTSHEiEia a. a ins IE aie ¥ has siring*
hundredth part of their previous size, we shall
find the surface of a medicine, originally the
cube of an inch, will become at the third tri
turation, equal to tw r o square miles ;at the
fifth, to the Austrian dominions; at the sixth,
to the area of Asia and Africa together; and
at the ninth, to the united superficies of the
sun, the planets, and the moon.”—[Black’s
Homeopathy, p. 88.] To those w r ho believe
in the absurdities of Homeopathy, the words
of Bishop Hall are not inappropriate; “Old
wives and starres are his counsellors; his
night-spell is his guard, and charms his phy
sicians. He w r ears Paracelsian characters for
the tooth-ache ; and a little hallowed wax is
his antidote for all evils.” But 1 have said
enough of the hochpotenzen. The next
point on which you request me to speak, re
fers to the honesty of homeopaths. Do not
understand me to say that the practitioners of
the Hahnemann school are dishonest men in
anything that appertains to the good citizen;
what I mean, is, that they contradict their own
assertions, practice what they do not believe,
and endeavor by tickling the people, partic
ularly the fairer portion of creation, to gain
their object by unworthy means. I could
give you numberless instances in which they
have used medicines allopathically but
time obliges me to be brief. At the meeting
of the Medical Society of London, Oct. 5, 1846,
Dr. Bennet read the following prescriptions,
one having been written on the 6th, and the
other on the 9th of the month by a Homeo
pathist:'—On the 6th, one grain of ipecacu
anha in an ounce of water; of which, a sin
gle drop was to be taken with syrup and wa
ter directly, and repeated if necessary, in four
hours. On the 9th, she was ordered a mix
ture, consisting of five ounces of infusion of
senna, half an ounce of tincture of jalap,
half an ounce of manna, half an ounce of carda
moms, and two ounces of sulphate of mag
nesia; and of this, she was to take a sixth
part every three hours ! f Surely these facts
require no comment. Let us see why the ip
ecac was given. In Hull’s translation of
Jahr. vol. 1. art “Ipecacuanha,” we are told
it “ removes uneasiness, caused by eating fat
pork; “cries and howling of children; anx
iety and fear of death ; moroseness, with con
tempt for everything; disdainful humour; de
sire for a number of things, without knowing
exactly which; irritability, and disposition to
be angry, &c. Ulcers with a black base, on
the legs; and, precisely 108 other “general
symptoms.” What a horrible condition the
poor woman must have been in !
For the present, I have no more to say;
but will endeavor to satisfy you on other
points, in my next. Yours, truly,
BAYARD.
■{■London Lancet—Vol. 5, No. 1., p. 61, Jan. 1844.
fijome (Homsponlicntt.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
NEW-YORK LETTERS—NO. 22.
West Point, Sept. 28th, 1848.
My Dear Sir , —The night preceding my
departure from the mountains witnessed a
grand engagement between the rival forces of
summer and winter. The former, very much
weakened, as I hinted in my last, by the
continued attacks of the van of the enemy’s
army, in the shape of autumnal winds, were
too weak to repel the ruthless invaders, and
on the evening in question were completely
routed. As I looked abroad on the follow
ing morning, and saw all the strong fast
nesses around me in the possession of the
hoary enemy, with his white flags glittering
on their summits, I felt that the day was lost,
and at once prepared to gather up my plun
der, and beat a retreat. Thus, excepting on
ly the return march, ends my summer cam
paign.
On my way hither, I paused in the village
of Catskill, an 4 passed a few pleasant hours
at the residence of the Rev. Mr. Noble, Rec
tor of the Church there. This accomplished
gentleman and poet was the pastor and friend
of the Artist Cole, and is now his literary
executor. It is well known that he is enga
ged in the preparation of a work, to contain
a Memoir and the literary remains of his de
ceased friend. The appearance of these vol
umes is anxiously awaited by the public, but,
from the difficult nature of the task, it is very
probable that their publication will be delay
ed, at least until the ensuing Spring. It seems
that the Artist has left a far greater quantity
of literary material, both prose and verse,
than is generally thought. Nearly all his
pictures were the theme of his pen—and his
Biographer appears to think that, had verse
been the chief medium of his thoughts, he
would have been a greater poet than he was
a painter. It w T as not until the very hour at
which Death summoned him away, that this
great Artist began to feel himself prepared to
enter upon the high walks of Art which he
hoped to follow. His mind was busy with
lofty and noble things, which, had he been
spared to evolve, w 7 ould doubtless have ad
ded undreamed-of glories to his beloved Art.
The labors which he had in contemplation,
at the time of his death, w r ere of the same lof
ty and religious nature as the pictures of his
last grand series, ‘ The Cross and the World.’
They would have been embodiments of great
Catholic truths, and would have placed him
among the first moral and religious painters
of the world. A series of large pictures of
“Life, Death and Immortality,” would —had
he lived—have followed the “ Cross and the
World;” and these, again, w r ould probably
have been succeeded by a grand epic poem
on canvass, in a series of antithetical pic
tures, illustrating the progress of Sacred and
Profane Empire.
My rambles have now brought me within
fifty miles of home, and, as I hinted, I think,
in my last sheet, I shall, in the present com
munication, bid adieu to the country, and
henceforth, for many months, chat with you
of the carpeted saloon, instead of the grassy
lawn.
I have but to look over the beauties of this
romantic spot, and then the jig will be up.
You know West Point—of course, every
body does—its romantic location in the bosom
of the most celebrated scenes of the Hudson;
its many historical associations; its Military
Academy, and so on. Very fortunate, too, is
it for me, tiiat you are thus acquainted; for,
though the theme is a pleasant one, I have
scarcely time now for more than a bare allu
sion to its attractions. FLIT.
.foreign (Jorreoponirence.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
LETTERS FROM SCOTLAND.—NO. 2.
Edinburgh, August 10th, 1848.
My Dear R ., —l can give you, in thecom
pass of a letter, but a meagre account of this
city, which I am inclined to pronounce, after
a pretty thorough examination, the most beau
tiful I have ever seen. I mean as a whole,
of course; for, so far as portions of the old
town are concerned, such an opinion must be
taken cum grano salts. Our approach to it
was so rapid, and so nearly in the shadows
of the evening, that we missed the fine coup
d'ccil, described with so much fervor by most
visitors. I have, however, since seen the
city from the various eminences within and
around it, the chief of which are Calton Hill,
remarkable for its palace-like structures and
its beautiful monuments; Salisbury Crags,
on the S. E. of the city; and, lowering be
yond and above them, the lofty peak known
as Arthur’s Seat, which commands an unin
terrupted view of city and country —the like
of which I had never before seen. It is no
easy matter, however, to climb to Arthur’s
Seat—and the fashionable point of observa
tion is from a beautiful gravel-walk at the
foot of the Crags, but still sufficiently above
I the city to afford a fine panoramic view.
This was a favorite place of resort with the
author of Waverly, and hence it is called Sir
Walter’s Walk. From one of these eminen
ces look with me on the city, presenting fea
tures quite peculiar and exceedingly interest
ing. The old and new towns are separated
from each other by a glen or ravine, running
in a direction nearly East and West. We
look towards the setting sun. On the South
side of the Valley, is the imposing High Street
of the old towm, at the foot of which lies the
palace of Holy rood, and on its summit stands
the Castle of Edinburgh—to which the slreet
rises with a steep ascent, and is lined with
fine old buildings of immense elevation on the
Valley-side—in some cases, ten arid twelve
stories, or ‘■flats,’ as they are termed. I pass
ed from the streetdown to the ravine in many
places—sometimes by flights of steps, and at
others through narrow, dirty lanes, called
j “ wynds,” inhabited by the lowest classes of
the people. On the North of the glen lies
the new town —its streets intersecting each
other at right angles, the length being paral
lel with the ravine. Prince street, directly on
the edge of the Valley, is one of the finest in
Edinburgh, ft is built up on one side only,
that on the ravine being a promenade like a
terrace with a massive railing of iron. In
the ravine, however, there are various monu
ments and edifices, particularly the magnifi
cent gothic pile commemorative of the Wizard
of the North. I remember with what plea
sure 1 first saw a fine picture of this monu
ment in Colman’s window, on Broadway.
Imagine, then, the delight with which I gazed
upon it, as it stood in the midst of natural
and artificial beauty—itself the crowning glo
ry of all. The towns are united by bridges,
and one mound of earth raised by deposits
from the cellars and foundations of the new
town. But how shall I hope to give you an
idea of the city in any reasonable limits'?—
Here Holyrood—there the stern old Castle—
on the other hand, the elegant churches,
monuments, palaces, and private edifices of
the new town. I will weary you no longer
with the panorama. Let us visit some points
of special interest.
In company with my friends, I crossed the
Bridge, or Bridge-street, as it is called, and it
is almost covered with edifices—and, entering
High Street, proceeded eastward to Holyrood,
which lies in what is called the Canongate.
Its appearance has been so often described,
that I will not say more of it than that it is a
beautiful specimen of the castellated order of
architecture —quadrangular, and very spa
cious. The chief interest to visitors at Holy
rood lies in the apartments of Queen Mary,
and these, of course, we visited. Everything
remains as it was when she occupied them—
and it was with no common interest that w r e
saw the very bed on which she slept. In the
ante-room of the Queen’s bed-chamber, David
Rizzio, a young Italian, in the service of
Lord Darnley, was assassinated by Ruthven
and several cowardly associates. Rizzio
I was supping with the Queen, the Countess of
Argyle, and other favorites, in a small room
adjoining the bed-chamber, when several
armed men rushed into the Cabinet, and at
tempted to seize the young Italian. He fled
to Mary for protection, and she strove, with
all her might, to shield him; but Ruthven
dragged him from her presence, through her
chamber into the ante-room, where they mur
dered him most foully, inflicting no fewer than
fifty-six wounds on his body. Such was the
terrible and cruel revenge of Darnley upon a
youth, whom he suspected of being too dear
to his royal wife. Three centuries have not
sufficed to wipe out the stain of that revolting
deed, or to diminish aught the interest with
■which the sorrowing spectator gazes upon
the memorials of its horrors. I could not see
I the portrait of that beautiful boy, without
feeling an absolute conviction of his inno
cence ; and I could not see the armor which
i the ruthless assassin, Ruthven, wore on the
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