Prodigies of every kind, moral or physical, have ever taken hold of the imagination of the public, nor has the better education of some prevented them from lending a greedy ear to accounts of such phenomena, and the belief of the vulgar has thus been sanctioned and strengthened. Many, from interested speculation, have pretended to undergo most extraordinary privations, or to be independent of the established laws of nature; such impostures met with a very flattering reception in the earlier part of the eighteenth century.
Mr. Evelyn mentions a Dutch boy, eight or nine years old, who was carried about by his parents as a show. He had about the iris of one eye the words Deus meus, and about the other Eloihim, in the Hebrew characters. How this was done by artifice none could imagine, and his parents affirmed he was born so. Three years before this period, in 1699, Mr. C. Ellis wrote to Dr. Edw. Tyson, that he had seen the Friesland boy, “round the pupils of whose eyes, they pretend, are naturally engraved the above words. This is looked upon as a prodigious miracle, in these parts, but, upon more nicely surveying it, I could perceive it was only the iris not circularly joined, but lashed into fimbriæ, which might be thought to form imaginary letters; there is something like D. J. and V., but not a footstep for the strongest fancy to work out any more. But it was like to have been of danger to me to have discovered this trick; for acquainting a gentleman in English of this cheat, one of the mob happened to understand it, and I was forced to make the best of my way.” It is hardly three years since a lad was exhibited in London, who is said to have had “Napoleon,” in distinct letters, written in his eye. There is little doubt, if this was really the case, but it was the result of artificial rather than natural, causes.
The eyes are not the only part of the head in which miraculous appearances have been supposed to be manifested. In 1593, it was reported that a child of seven years old, in Silesia, having shed its teeth, a double tooth had been replaced by one of gold. This phenomenon soon brought a number of learned men into the field, to dissertate upon the wonder. Horst, more generally known under his Latinized name of Horstius, who was a professor of medicine, and really a man of abilities, wrote in raptures upon the subject. According to his idea, the production of the tooth was partly a natural and partly a miraculous event, and was intended by Heaven to console the Christians for the perils to which they were exposed from the Turks. How consolation was to be derived from such a source, it would not be easy to discover. Horst was followed by Martin Ruland, another physician, who published a treatise called “Nova et omni Memoriâ omnino inaudita Hist. de Aureo Dente,” &c. Two years after Ruland had given his tract to the world, the opinions which it broached were controverted by Ingesteterus; and were immediately defended, in another dissertation, by Ruland. Lastly, the pen was taken up by Libavius, an eminent chemist and physician, the first proposer of the transfusion of blood. Unhappily, all this labour and erudition were thrown away. Some one had, at last, the good sense to institute an inquiry as to the reality of the miracle; and, to the great discomfort of the literary and non-literary believers, it was discovered that the tooth was gilt.
Waldron, in his Description of the Isle of Man, says, “The old story of infants being changed in their cradles is here in such credit, that mothers are in continual terror at the thoughts of it. I was prevailed on,” says he, “to go and see a child, who, as they told me, was one of these changelings, and indeed I must own I was not a little surprised and shocked at the sight. Nothing under heaven could have a more beautiful face; though between five and six years old, and seemingly healthy, he was so far from being able to walk, that he could not so much as move a joint; his limbs were vastly long for his age, but smaller than an infant’s of six months; his complexion perfectly delicate, and he had the finest hair in the world. He never spoke or cried, ate scarce any thing, and was very seldom seen to smile; but if any one called him fairy elf he would frown, and fix his eyes so earnestly on those who had said it, as if he would look them through. His mother, or supposed mother, being poor, frequently went out a-charing and left home a whole day together; the neighbours, out of curiosity, have often looked in at the window to see how he behaved alone, which whenever they did, they were sure to find him laughing and in the utmost delight. This made them judge that he was not without company, more pleasing to him than any mortal; and what made this seem more reasonable was, that if he was left ever so dirty, the woman, at her return, saw him with a clean face, and hair combed with the utmost exactness.”
Instances have been often recorded of extraordinary sleepers, which, supposing them to have been true, have puzzled physiologists to account for. So many eccentricities in the animal economy have been proved by a careful investigation to be impostures, that it is but natural to suppose them all to have been feigned, to accomplish some particular purpose.
The popular tale of the Seven Sleepers has had a most extended circulation, and, as a divine revelation, was extensively believed among the Mahometans. When the emperor Decius persecuted the Christians, seven noble youths of Ephesus concealed themselves in a spacious cavern, the entrance to which the tyrant ordered should be firmly secured with a pile of stones. They immediately fell into a deep slumber, which was miraculously prolonged, without injuring the powers of life, during a period of one hundred and eighty-seven years. After this slumber, as they thought, of a few hours, they were pressed by the calls of hunger, and it was resolved that Jamblichus, one of them, should secretly return to the city for bread. The youth could hardly recognise his native city, and, to his surprise, a large cross was triumphantly erected over the principal gate of Ephesus. His singular dress and obsolete language confounded the baker, to whom he offered an ancient medal of Decius, as the current coin of the empire. Taken up on suspicion, he found that two centuries had nearly elapsed since his escape from the tyrant. The bishop of Ephesus, the clergy, and others, hastened to visit the cave of the Seven Sleepers, who bestowed their benediction, and peaceably expired.
Arguing from analogy, it was supposed that the inhabitants of the colder regions hibernated, as certain smaller animals are known to do. Baron Herberstein, in his Commentaries on Russian History, asserts, that there are in the northern parts of Muscovy, near the river Oby, on the borders of Tartary, a people he calls Leucomori, who sleep from the 27th day of November till the 23d of April, like tortoises, under ground, and then come to life again, though quite frozen all the winter. This gentleman was a creditable sort of person, and twice ambassador in Russia, from Ferdinand the emperor. It is most likely, however, that in points of this nature he was contented to rely on the reports of others.
Dr. Oliver has given to the world “a relation of an extraordinary sleeping person, at Finsbury, near Bath;” the truth of which he seemed not to doubt. Samuel Chilton, in May, 1694, fell into a profound sleep, out of which no art could rouse him, till after a month’s time: during this time, food and drink were put before him, which always disappeared, though no one ever saw him eat or drink.
Two years afterwards, he slept seventeen weeks, and in the following year for five months, with only one intermission for a few minutes. It does not appear, from the relation, that there was reason to suspect any imposture; yet it was rather remarkable that the stimulus of hunger should have induced him, though asleep, to eat and drink whatever was put before him, and yet the most powerful stimuli applied in other forms should have made no impression upon him.