being there in the exercise of his official duty as surgeon, he had a warm dispute with Dr. Pearson, on a professional subject; upon which he said, “I must retire, for I feel an agitation which will be fatal to me if I increase it.”  He immediately withdrew into an adjoining room; but Dr. Pearson, not being willing to give up his argument, followed him, which so annoyed Hunter, that he vehemently exclaimed, “You have followed me on purpose to be the death of me!  You have murdered me!” and instantly fell and expired!  Mrs. Byron, the mother of the noble bard, is said to have died in a fit of passion.  Mr. Moore, in his life of Lord Byron, in speaking of Mrs. Byron’s illness, says,—­“At the end of July her illness took a new and fatal turn; and so sadly characteristic was the close of the poor lady’s life, that a fit of ague, brought on, it is said, by reading the upholsterer’s bills, was the ultimate cause of her death.”  A somewhat similar circumstance is recorded of Malbranche.  The only interview that Bishop Berkley and Malbranche had was in the latter philosopher’s cell, when the conversation turned upon the non-existence of matter, and Malbranche is said to have exerted himself so much in the discussion that he died in consequence.  Sanctorius relates an instance of a famous orator, who so far exerted his mind in delivering an oration that he became, in a few hours, quite insane.

The effect of a too close application of mind to study on the bodily health has long been a matter of common observation.  The Roman orator, Cicero, points out forcibly the dangers arising from inordinate exertion of mind; and he has laid down some rules for guarding against the effects of study.  M. Van Swieten, in alluding to this subject, relates the case of a man whose health was severely injured, by what he calls “literary watchings.”  Whenever he listened with any attention to any story, or trifling tale, he was seized with giddiness; he was in violent agonies whenever he wanted to recollect any thing which had slipped his memory; he oftentimes fainted away gradually, and experienced a disagreeable sensation of lassitude.  Rousseau has very justly remarked, that excessive application of mind “makes men tender, weakens their constitutions, and when once the body has lost its powers, those of the soul are not easily preserved.  Application wears out the machine, exhausts the spirits, destroys the strength, enervates the mind, makes us pusillanimous, unable either to bear fatigue, or to keep our passions under."[3]

Shakspeare appears to have formed a just conception of the great injury which the corporeal frame experiences from a too close application of mind.  The immortal bard observes,—­

“——­Universal plodding poisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigour of the traveller.”

Love’s Labour Lost.