In more modern times we find men of science and literature who have attained advanced age. Kant, Buffon, Goethe, Fontenelle, and Newton were all over eighty. Michael Angelo and Titian lived to eighty-nine and ninety-nine respectively. Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation; Hans Sloane, the celebrated president of the Royal Society in London; Plater, the Swiss physician; Duverney, the anatomist, as well as his confrere, Tenon, lived to be octogenarians. Many men have displayed activity when past four score. Brougham at eighty-two and Lyndhurst at eighty-eight could pour forth words of eloquence and sagacity for hours at a time. Landor wrote his "Imaginary Conversations" when eighty-five, and Somerville his "Molecular Science" at eighty-eight; Isaac Walton was active with his pen at ninety; Hahnemann married at eighty and was working at ninety-one.
J. B. Bailey has published a biography of "Modern Methusalehs," which includes histories of the lives of Cornaro, Titian, Pletho, Herschell, Montefiore, Routh, and others. Chevreul, the centenarian chemist, has only lately died. Gladstone, Bismarck, and von Moltke exemplify vigor in age In the Senate of the United States, Senators Edmunds, Sherman, Hoar, Morrill, and other elderly statesmen display as much vigor as their youthful colleagues. Instances of vigor in age could be cited in every profession and these few examples are only mentioned as typical. At a recent meeting of the Society of English Naturalists, Lord Kelvin announced that during the last year 26 members had died at an average age of seventy-six and a half years; one reached the age of ninety-nine years, another ninety-seven, a third ninety-five, etc.
In commenting on the perfect compatibility of activity with longevity, the National Popular Review says:—
"Great men usually carry their full mental vigor and activity into old age. M. Chevreul, M. De Lesseps, Gladstone, and Bismarck are evidences of this anthropologic fact. Pius IX, although living in tempestuous times, reached a great age in full possession of all his faculties, and the dramatist Crebillon composed his last dramatic piece at ninety-four, while Michael Angelo was still painting his great canvases at ninety-eight, and Titian at ninety still worked with all the vigor of his earlier years. The Austrian General Melas was still in the saddle and active at eighty-nine, and would have probably won Marengo but for the inopportune arrival of Desaix. The Venetian Doge Henry Dandolo, born at the beginning of the eleventh century, who lost his eyesight when a young man, was nevertheless subsequently raised to the highest office in the republic, managed successfully to conduct various wars, and at the advanced age of eighty-three, in alliance with the French, besieged and captured Constantinople. Fontenelle was as gay-spirited at ninety-eight as in his fortieth year, and the philosopher Newton worked away at his tasks at the age of eighty-three with the same ardor that animated his middle age. Cornaro was as happy at ninety as at fifty, and in far better health at the age of ninety-five than he had enjoyed at thirty.
"These cases all tend to show the value and benefits to be derived from an actively cultivated brain in making a long life one of comfort and of usefulness to its owner. The brain and spirits need never grow old, even if our bodies will insist on getting rickety and in falling by the wayside. But an abstemious life will drag even the old body along to centenarian limits in a tolerable state of preservation and usefulness. The foregoing list can be lengthened out with an indefinite number of names, but it is sufficiently long to show what good spirits and an active brain will do to lighten up the weight of old age. When we contemplate the Doge Dandolo at eighty-three animating his troops from the deck of his galley, and the brave old blind King of Bohemia falling in the thickest of the fray at Crecy, it would seem as it there was no excuse for either physical, mental, or moral decrepitude short of the age of four score and ten."
Emperors and Kings, in short, the great ones of the earth, pay the penalty of their power by associate worriment and care. In ancient history we can only find a few rulers who attained four score, and this is equally the case in modern times. In the whole catalogue of the Roman and German Emperors, reckoning from Augustus to William I, only six have attained eighty years. Gordian, Valerian, Anastasius, and Justinian were octogenarians, Tiberius was eighty-eight at his death, and Augustus Caesar was eighty-six. Frederick the Great, in spite of his turbulent life, attained a rare age for a king, seventy-six. William I seems to be the only other exception.
Of 300 Popes who may be counted, no more than five attained the age of eighty. Their mode of life, though conducive to longevity in the minor offices of the Church, seems to be overbalanced by the cares of the Pontificate.
Personal Habits.—According to Hufeland and other authorities on longevity, sobriety, regular habits, labor in the open air, exercise short of fatigue, calmness of mind, moderate intellectual power, and a family life are among the chief aids to longevity. For this reason we find the extraordinary instances of longevity among those people who amidst bodily labor and in the open air lead a simple life, agreeable to nature. Such are farmers, gardeners, hunters, soldiers, and sailors. In these situations man may still maintain the age of one hundred and fifty or even one hundred and sixty.
Possibly the most celebrated case of longevity on record is that of Henry Jenkins. This remarkable old man was born in Yorkshire in 1501 and died in 1670, aged one hundred and sixty-nine. He remembered the battle of Flodden Field in 1513, at which time he was twelve years old. It was proved from the registers of the Chancery and other courts that he had appeared in evidence one hundred and forty years before his death and had had an oath administered to him. In the office of the King's Remembrancer is a record of a deposition in which he appears as a witness at one hundred and fifty-seven. When above one hundred he was able to swim a rapid stream.
Thomas Parr (or Parre), among Englishmen known as "old Parr," was a poor farmer's servant, born in 1483. He remained single until eighty. His first wife lived thirty-two years, and eight years after her death, at the age of one hundred and twenty, he married again. Until his one hundred and thirtieth year he performed his ordinary duties, and at this age was even accustomed to thresh. He was visited by Thomas, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, and was persuaded to visit the King in London. His intelligence and venerable demeanor impressed every one, and crowds thronged to see him and pay him homage. The journey to London, together with the excitement and change of mode of living, undoubtedly hastened his death, which occurred in less than a year. He was one hundred and fifty-two years and nine months old, and had lived under nine Kings of England. Harvey examined his body and at the necropsy his internal organs were found in a most perfect state. His cartilages were not even ossified, as is the case generally with the very aged. The slightest cause of death could not be discovered, and the general impression was that he died from being over-fed and too-well treated in London. His great-grandson was said to have died in this century in Cork at the age of one hundred and three. Parr is celebrated by a monument reared to his memory in Westminster Abbey.