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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
Circpclopaetita JSntanmca:
OR, A
DICTIONARY
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND MISCELLANEOUS
LITERATURE;
ENLARGED AND IMPROVED.
THE SIXTH EDITION.
SUustratcS Untl) iwatlp sit' Ijuirtrrti tCnijt'nbmge.
VOL. XVIII.
INDOCTI DISCANT; AMENT MEMINISSE PERITI.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY;
AND HURST, ROBINSON, AND COMPANY, 90, CIIEAPSIDE,
LONDON.
1823.
; ;;;
\v a ^<N
Encyclopedia Britannica.
It H I
X> HIZOPHORA, the Mangrove, or Mangle, a
AV genus of plants belonging to the dodecandria
class ; and in the natural method ranking under the
12th order, Holoracece. These plants are natives of the
East and West Indies, and often grow 40 or 50 feet
high. They grow only in water and on the banks of
rivers, where the tide flows up twice a-day. They pre¬
serve the verdure of their leaves throughout the year.
From the lowest branches issue long roots, which hang
down to the water, and penetrate into the earth. In
this position they resemble so many arcades, from five
to ten feet high, which serve to support the body of the
tree, and even to advance it daily into the bed of the
water. These arcades are so closely intertwisted one
with another, that they form a kind of natural and
transparent terrace, raised with such solidity over the
water, that one might walk upon them, were it not
that the branches are too much encumbered with leaves.
The most natural way of propagating these trees, is to
suffer the several slender small filaments which is«ue
from the main branches to take root in the earth. The
most common method, however, is that of laying the
small lower branches in baskets of mould or earth till
they have taken root.
The description just given pertains chiefly to a par¬
ticular species of mangrove, termed by the West In¬
dians black mangles, on account of the brown dusky co¬
lour of the wood. The bark is very brown, smooth,
pliant, when green, and generally used in the West In¬
dia islands for tanning of leather. Below this bark lies
a cuticle, or skin, which is lighter, thinner, and more
tender. The wood is nearly of the same colour with the
bark ; hard, pliant, and very heavy. It is frequently
used for fuel, f or which purpose it is said to be remark¬
ably proper ; the fires which are made of this wood
being both clearer, more ardent and durable than those
made of any other materials whatever. The wood is
compact; almost incorruptible ; never splinters ; is
easily worked; and were it notfor its enormous weight,
would be eommodiously employed in almost all kinds
of work, as it possesses every property of good timber.
1 o the roots and branches of mangroves that are im¬
mersed in the water, oysters frequently attach them¬
selves ; so that wherever this curious plant is found
growing on the sea-shore, oyster-fishing is very easy;
and in such cases these shell-fish may be literally said
to grow upon trees.
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
R H O
The red mangle or mangrove grows on the sea¬
shore, and at the mouth of large rivers ; but does not
advance, like the former, into the water. It generally
rises to the height of 20 or 30 feet, with crooked,
knotty branches, which proceed from all parts of the
trunk. The bark is slender, of a brown colour, and,
when young, is smooth, and adheres very closely to the
wood ; but when old, appears quite cracked, and is
easily detached from it. Under this bark is a skin as
thick as parchment, red, and adhering closely to the
wood, from which it. cannot be detached till the tree
is felled and dry. The wood is hard, compact, heavy,
of a deep red, with a very fine grain. The pith or
heart of the wood being cut into small pieces, and
boiled in water, imparts a very beautiful red to the li¬
quid, which communicates the same colour to wool
and linen. The great weight and hardness of the wood
prevent it from being generally used. From the fruit
of this tree, which, when ripe, is of a violet colour, and
resembles some grapes intaste, is preparedan agreeable
liquor, much esteemed by tbe inhabitants of the Carib-
bee islands.
White mangle, so termed from the colour of its wood,
grows, like the two former, upon the banks o(’ rivers,
but is seldom found near the sea. The bark is gray;
the wood, as we have said, white, and when green
supple; but dries as soon as cut down, and becomes
very light and brittle. This species is generally called
rope-mangrove, from the use to which the bark is ap¬
plied by the inhabitants of the West Indies. This bark,
which, on account of the great abundance of sap, is
easily detached when green from the wood, is beaten
or bruised betwixt two stones, until the hard and woody
part is totally separated from thatwhich is soft and ten¬
der. This last, which is the true cortical substance, i*
twisted into ropes ot all sizes, which are exceedingly
strong-, and not apt to rot in the water.
RHODE-island, one of the smallest of the United
States of America, not exceeding 47 miles in length
and 37 in breadth, is bounded on the N. and E by
the province of Massachusetts; on the S. by the Atlan¬
tic, and on the W by Connecticut. Its area is 1583
square miles. It is divided into five counties, viz.
Newport, Providence, Washington, Bristol, and Kent,
which are subdivided into 30 town hips, containing
76,931 inhabitants in 1810, of whom 108 were slaves.
This state is intersected by rivers in all directions; and
the winters in the maritime parts of it are milder than ia
A the
R II O , [ ' 2
Rliode- tlie interJur of th? country. The summers arc delight-
island. aT1(j the climate is considered to be more salubrious
than any other in the United States. The rivers and
bays teem with fish of different kinds, and it is gene¬
rally allowed by travellers, that Newport is the best
fish market in the world. This state produces rye.
barley, oats, maize, and in some places wheat sufficient
for home consumption. Cyder is made here for ex¬
portation; and it abounds with grasses, fruits, and
culinary roots and plants, all of an excellent quality.
The north-western parts are but thinly inhabited and
more rocky and barren thai? the re t of the sta‘e.
There are extensive dairies in some parts of it, which
produce butter and cheese of the best quality, and in
lar^e quantities for exportation. Iron ore is found in
great abundance in many parts of the state ; and the
iron-works on Patuxet river, 12 miles from Providence,
are supplied w ith ore from a bed about four miles and
a half distant, where a variety of ores, curious stones,
and ochres, are alsomet with; and there is acoppermine
mixed with iron in the township of Cumberland. Here
also lime stone a' ounds, and coal has lately been found.
The chief to wns of the state are Providence and New¬
port ; the former contained 10,071, and the latter 7907
inhabitants in 1810. The skve-trade, which was a
source of wealth to many, has been happily abolished.
Bristol ca1 ries on a considerable trade to Africa, the
West Indies, and different parts of the United States :
but the inhabitants of the prosperous town of Provi¬
dence have in their hands the greatest part of the com¬
merce; the tonnage of this place in 1815 was 18,538
tons. The common exports are flax-seed, timber,
horses, cattle, beef, pork, fish, poultry, onions, butter,
cheese, barley, grain, spirits, cotton and linen goods.
The imports consist of West India and European goods,
and logwood is brought from the bay of Honduras. At
the different ports of this state more than GOO vessels
enter and clear out annually. The amount of exports
in 1810 was 1,331,576 dollars, and in 1817 it was
<150,467 dollars. At Providence there are various cot¬
ton manufactories, the produce of which is sent to the
southern states; but the manufactures of bar and sheet
iron, steel, nail-roads, and nails, implements of hus¬
bandry, stoves, pots, &c. are the most extensive. The
whole amount of manufactures in 18 10 was 3,079,556
dollars. The value of lands and houses in this state
in 1799 "was 11,066,357 dollars, and in 1814 the value
■was 21,567,020 dollars. The average value of lands
per acre, including buildings, was 39 dollars. The
con stitutionof the state is founded on the charter grant¬
ed in 1663 by Charles II.; and the revolution made
no effectual change on the form of government. The
legislature consists of two branches; a senate composed
of ten members, besides a governor and deputy-gover¬
nor, and a house of representatives. The members of
the legislature are chosen twice a year, and there are
two sessions of this body annually. So little has the
civil authority to do with religion here, that no contract
between a minister and a society is of any force, for
which reason a great number of sects have always been
ioun.i here; yet it is said that the sabbath, and all re¬
ligious institutions are more neglected in this, than in
any other of the New England states. The Papusts
an<J Congregationalists are the mo t numerous sects.
But there are besides a considerable number of Quak»
3 E H 0
exs. Episcopalians, Moravians, and Jews. There were
no less than 28 banks in this state in 1818.
Rhode island, an island of N. America, in a state
of the same name, situated between 41° 28' and 41
42' N. Lat. and between 710 17' and 710 27' W. Long,
from Greenwich, or about 15 miles long, and its me¬
dium breadth about 3 and a half. It is a famous resort
for invalids from the southern climates, as it is exceed-
Ilhodc-
I s'and.
Rhodes.
ingly pleasant and healthful, being atone period regar¬
ded as the Eden of North America. 1
RHODES, a celebrated is’and in the Archipelago, Ancient
the largest and most easterly of the Cyclades, was
known in ancient times by the names of Asieria, O- e y
phiusa,JElhrcea, Trinacria, Corymhia, roessa,Alabyria,
Marcia, Olocssa, Stadia, Telchinis, Pelagia, and Rhodus.
In later ages, the name of Rhodus, or Rhodes, prevail¬
ed, from the Greek word rhodon, as is commonly sup¬
posed, signifying a “ rose;" the island abounding very
much with these flowers. Others, however, give differ¬
ent etymologies, among which it is difficult to find one
preferable to another. It is about 20 miles distant from
the coasts of Lycia and Caria, and about 120 miles in
compass. ?
Several ancient authors assert, that Rhodes was for- It* origia;
merly covered by the sea, but gradually raised its head
above the waves, and became an island. Delos and ^
Rhodes (says PEny), islands which have long been *
celebrated, sprung at first from the sea. The same fact ^ n‘
is supported by such a variety of other evidence as ren¬
der it indubitable. Philo t ascribes the event to the t Ptiilo de
decrease of the waters of the ocean. If his conjecture
be not without foundation, most ©f the isles of the Ar¬
chipelago, being lower than Rhodes, must have had a
similar origin. But it is much more probable that the
volcanic fires, which in the fourth year of the 135th O-
lympiad, raised Therasia and Thera, known at present
by the name of Saniorin, from thedepths of the sea, and
have in our days thrown out several small islands ad¬
jacent, also produced in some ancient era Rhodes and
Delos. g
The first inhabitants of Rhodes, according to Dio- Fint. inka-
dorus Siculus, were called the Telchince, who came ori- hitant*.
ginally from the island of Crete. These, by their skill
in astrology, perceiving that the island was soon to be
drowned with water, left their habitations, and made
room for the Heliades, or grandsons of Phoebus, who
took possession of the island after that god had cleared
it from the water and mud with which it was over¬
whelmed. These Heliades, it seems, excelled all other
men in learning, and especially in astrology ; invented
navigation, &c. In after ages, however, being infest¬
ed w ith great serpents which bred in the island, they
had recourse to an oracle in Delos, which advised them
to admit Phorbas,a Thessalian,with his followers, into
Rhodes. This was accordingly done : and Phorbaa
having destroyed the serpents, was, after his death, ho¬
noured as a demigod. Afterwards a colony of Cretans
settled in some part of the island, and a little before
the Trojan war, Tlepolemus the son of Hercules, who
was made king of the whole island, and governed with
great justice and moderation.
Alter the Trojan war, all the ancient inhabitants
were driven out by the Dorians, who continued to be
masters ot the island for many ages. The government
was at first monarchical; but a little before the expedi¬
tion
K II 0 [
itheJes. tion of Xerxes into Greece, a republican form of go-
vernment was introduced; during which the Rhodians
applied themselves to navigation, and became very
powerful by sea, planting several colonies in distant
countries. In the time of the Peloponnesian war, the
republic of Rhodes was rent into two factions, one of
■which favoured the Athenians, and another the Spar¬
tans ; but at length the latter prevailing, democracy
was abolished, and an aristocracy introduced. About
351 B. C. we find the Rhodians oppressed by Mauso-
lus king of Caria, and at last reduced by Artemisia his
widow. In this emergency, they applied to the Athe¬
nians, by whose assistance, probably, they regained
6 their liberty.
Submit to From this time to that of Alexander the Great, the
Alexander, Rhodians enjoyed an uninterrupted tranquillity. To
but revolt him they voluntarily submitted; and were on that ac-
after his count highly favoured by him: but no sooner did they
hear of his death, than they drove out the Macedonian
garrisons, and once more became a free people. About
this time happened a dreadful inundation at Rhodes ;
which being accompanied with violent storms of rain,
and hailstones of an extraordinary bigness, beat down
^ many houses, and killed great numbers of the inhabi-
Violent in- tants* As the city was built in the form of an amphi-
undation at theatre, and no care had been taken to clear the pipes
Jlbodes. and conduits which conveyed the water into the sea,
the lower parts of the city were in an instant laid un¬
der water, several houses quite covered, and the inha¬
bitants drowned before they could get to the higher
places. Asthe deluge increased, and the violent showers
continued, some of the inhabitants made to their
ships, and abandoned the place, while others miserably
perished in the waters. But while the city was thus
threatened with utter destruction, the wall on a sudden
burst asunder, and the water discharging itself by a
violent current into the sea, unexpectedly delivered
the inhabitants from all danger.
The Rhodians suffered greatly by this unexpected
accident, but soon retrieved their losses by a clo.-e ap¬
plication to trade. During the wars which took place
among the successors of Alexander, the Rhodians ob¬
served a strict neutrality; by which means they enrich¬
ed themselves so much, that Rhodes became one of the
most opulent states of that age; insomuch that, for the
common good of Greece, they undertook the piratic
war, and, at their own charge, cleared the seas of the
7 pirates who had for many years infested the coasts of
Diffeience Europe and Asia. However, notwithstanding the neu-
vith Anti- trality they professed, as the most advantageous Dranch-
*lcmu*' es of their commerce were derived from Egypt, they
were more attached to Ptolemy, king of that country,
than to any of the neighbouring princes. When there¬
fore Antigonus, having engaged in a war with Ptolemy
about the island of Cyprus, demanded succours of them,
they earnestly intreated him not to compel them to de¬
clare war against their ancient friend and ally. But
this answer, prudent as it was, drew upon them the
displeasure of Antigonus, who immediately ordered
one ox his admirals to sail with his fleet to Rhodes, and
seize all the ships that came out of the harbour for
Egypt. The Rhodians, finding their harbour blocked
up by the fleet of Antigonus, equipped a good number
ot galleys, fell upon the enemy, and obliged him, with
the loss of many ships, to cjuit his station. Hereupon
3 ] II II 0
Antigonus, charging them as aggressors, and beginners Rhoda*.
of an unjust war, threatened to besiege their city with
the strength of his whole army. The Rhodians endea¬
voured by frequent embassies to appease his wrath; but
all their remonstrances served rather to provoke than
allay his resentment: and the only terms upon which he
would hearken to any accommodation were, that the
Rhodians should declare war against Ptolemy, that they
should admit his fleet into their harbour, and that ail
hundred of the chief citizens should be delivered up to
him as hostages for the performance of these articles.
The Rhodians sent ambassadors to all their allies, and
to Ptolemy in particular, imploring their assistance,
and representing to the latter, that their attachment to
his interest had drawn upon them the danger to which
they were exposed. The preparations on both sides
were immense. As Antigonus was nearfourscore years **
of age at that time, he committed the whole manage- Rllod.L'* bc*
merit of the war to his son Demetrius, who appeared Dauetrius.
before the city of Rhodes with 200 ships of war, 170
transports having on board 40,000 men, and 1000 other
vessels laden with provisions and all sorts of warlike en¬
gines. As Rhodes had enjoyed for many years a pro¬
found tranquillity, and been free from all devastations,
the expectation of booty, in the plunder of so wealthy
a city, allured multitudes of pirates and mercenaries
to join Demetrius in this expedition ; insomuch that
the whole sea between the continent and the island was
covered with ships: which struck the Rhodians, who
had a prospect of this mighty armament from the
walls, with great terror and comternation.
Demetrius, having landed his troops without the
reach of the enemy’s machines, detached several small
bodies to lay waste the country round the city, and cut
down the trees and groves, employing the timber, and
materials of the houses without the walls, to fortify his
camp with a strong rampartand a triplepalisade; which
work, as many hands were employed, was finished in a
few days. The Rhodians, on their part, prepared for a +
vigorous defence. Many great commanders, who had The inlu-
signalized themselves on other occasions, threw them- hitants pie-
selves into the city, being desirous to iry their skill in Parc for *
military affairs against Demetrius, who was reputed
one of the most experienced captains in the conduct of
sieges that antiquity had produced. The besieged be¬
gan with dismissing from the city all such persons as
were useless ; and then taking an account of those who
were capable of bearing arms, they found that the
citizens amounted to 6000, and the foreigners to 1000.
Liberty was promised to all the slaves who should dis-r
tinguish themselves by any glorious action, and the
public engaged to pay their masters their full ransom.
A proclama tion was likewise made, declaring, that
whoever died in defence of their country should be
buried at the expence of the public ; that his p< rents
am! children should be maintained out of the treasury ;
that fortunes should be given to his daughters ; and
his sons, when they were grown up, should be crown¬
ed and presented with a complete suit of armour at
the great solemnity of Bacchus; which decree kindled
an incredible ardour in a!l ranks of men. l9
Demetrius, having planted all his engines, began to Rngineiof
batter with incredible fury the walls on the side of the Demetrius
harbour; but was for eight days successively repulsed biurit*
by the besieged, who set fire to most of his warlike en-
A 2 gir.es.
Rhodes.
11
Several des¬
perate as¬
saults with¬
out success.
R H 0 [4
gines, and thereby obliged him to allow them some
respite, which they made good use of in repairing the
breaches, and building new walls where the old ones
were either weak or low. When Demetrius had re¬
paired his engines, he ordered a general assault to be
made, and caused his troops to advance with loud shouts,
thinking by this means to strike terror into the enemy.
But the besieged were so far from being intimidated,
that they repulsed the aggressors with great slaughter,
and performed the most astonishing feats of bravery.
Demetrius returned to the assault next day; but was
in the same manner forced to retire, after having lost a
great number of men, and some officers of distinction.
He had seized, at his first landing, an eminence at a
small distance from the city ; and, having fortified this
advantageous post, he caused several batteries to be
erected there, with engines, which incessantly dis¬
charged against the walls stones of 150 pounds weight.
The towers, being thus furiously battered night and
day, began to totter, and several breaches were open¬
ed in the walls: but the Rhodians, unexpectedly
sallying out, drove the enemy from their post, over¬
turned their machines, and made a most dreadful ha-
vock ; insomuch that some of them retired on board
their vessels, and were with difficulty prevailed upon
to come ashore again.
Demetrius now ordered a scalade by sea and land at
the same time; and so employed the besieged, that
they were at a loss what place.they should chiefly de¬
fend, The attack was carried on with the utmost fury
on all sides, and the besieged defended.themselves with
the greatest intrepidity. Such of the enemy as advan¬
ced first were thrown down from the ladders, and mi¬
serably bruised. Several of the chief officers, having
mounted the walls to encourage the soldiers by their
example, were there either killed or taken prison¬
ers. After the combat had lasted many hours, with
great slaughter on both sides, Demetrius, notwith¬
standing all his valour, thought it necessary to retire,
in order to repair hjs engines, and give his men some
days rest.
Demetrius being sensible that he could not reduce
the city till he was master of the port, after having
refreshed his men, he returned with new vigour against
the fortifications which defended the entry into the
harbour. When he came within the cast of a dart, he
caused a vast quantity of burning torches and fire¬
brands to be thrown into the Rhodian ships, which
were riding there ; and at the same time galled, with
dreadful showers of darts, arrows and stones, such as
offered to extinguish the flames. However, in spite
of their utmost efforts, the Rhodians put a stop to the
fire; and, having with great expedition manned three
of their strongest ships, drove with such violence
against the vessels on which the enemy’s machines
were planted, that they were shattered in pieces, and
the engines dismounted and thrown into the sea. Ex-
cestus the Rhodian admiral, being encouraged by this
success, attacked the enemy’s fleet with his three ships,
and sunk a great many vessels; but was himself at
last taken prisoner : the other two vessels made their
escape, and regained the port.
As unfortunate as this last attack had proved to De¬
metrius, he determined to undertake another ; and, in
order to succeed in his attempt, he ordered a machine
] R II O
of anew invention to be constructed, wdiich was thrice Rhodes,
the height and breadth of those he had lately lost.
When the work was finished, he caused the engine to
be placed near the port, which he was resolved, at all
adventures, to force. But as it was upon the point
of entering the harbour, a dreadful storm arising,
drove it against the shore, with the vessels on w Inch
it had been reared- The besieged, who were attentive
to improve all favourable conjunctures, while the tem¬
pest was still raging, made a sally against those who
defended the eminence mentioned above; and,
though repulsed several times, carried it at last, ob¬
liging the Demetrians, to the number of 400, to throw
down their arms and submit. After this victory
gained by the Rhodians, there arrived to their aid 150
Gnossians, and 500 men sent by Ptolemy from Egypt,
most of them being natives of,Rhodes, who had serv¬
ed among the king’s troops. j 0
Demetrius being extremely mortified to see all his Demetrius
batteries against the harbour rendered ineffectual, resol- frames a
ved to employ them by land, in hopes of carrying the new ma-
city by assault, or at least reducing it to the necessity of chine^call-
capitulating. With this view, having got together a ^ liclcPa~
vast quantity of timber and other materials, he framed
the famous engine called helepolis, which was by many
degrees larger than any that had ever been invented
before. Its basis was square, each side being in length
near 50 cubits, and made up of square pieces of timber,
bound together with plates of iron. In the middle part
he placed thick planks, about a cubit distance from
each other; and on these the men were to stand who
forced the engine forward. The whole was moved up¬
on eight strong and large wheels, whose felloes were
strengthened with strong iron plates. In order to faci¬
litate and vary the movements of the helepolis, casters
were placed under it, whereby it was turned in an in¬
stant to what side the workmen and engineers pleased.
From each of the four angles a large pillar of wood was
carried to about the height of 100 cubits and inclining
to each other ; the whole machine consisting of nine
stories, whose dimensions gradually lessened in the as¬
cent. The first story was supported by 43 beams, and-
the last by no more than nine. Three sides of the ma¬
chine were plated over with iron, to prevent its being
damaged by the fire that might be thrown from the ci¬
ty. In the front of each story were windows of the same
size and shape as the engines that were to be discharged
from thence. To each window were shutters, to draw
up for the defence of those who managed the machines,
and to deaden the force of the stones thrown by the
enemy, the shutters being covered with skins stuffed
with wool. Every story was furnished with two large
staircases,that whatever wasnecessarymightbe brought
up by one, while others were going down by the other,
and so every thing may be dispatched without tumult
or confusion. This huge machine was moved forwards
by 3000 of the stronge.-t men of the whole army ; but
the art with which it was built greatly facilitated the
motion. Demetrius caused likewise to be made several
testudoes or pent-houses, to cover his men while they
advanced to fill up the trenches and ditches; and in¬
vented a new sort of galleries, through which those who
were employed at the siege might pass and repass at
their pleasure, without the least danger. He employed
all his seamen in levelling the ground over which the
machines
It H 0
C 5 ]
It K 0
I? bodes.
14
The walls
undermined
without
success.
15
A general
assault to
no purpose,
machines were to be brought up, to the space of four
furlongs. The number of workmen who were em¬
ployed on this occasion amounted to 30,000.
In the mean time, the Rhodians, observing thesefor-
midable preparations, were busy in raising a new wall
within that which the enemy intended to batterwiththe
helepolis. In order fo accomplish this work, they pull¬
ed down the wa 1 which surrounded the theatre, some
neighbouring houses, and even some temples, after ha¬
ving stdemnly promised tobuildmore magnificent struc¬
tures in honour of the gods, if the city were preserved.
At !he same time, they sent out nine of their best ships
to seize such of the enemy’s vessels as they could meet
with, ami thereby distress them for want of provisions.
.As these ships were commanded by the bravest sea-offi¬
cers, they soon returned with an immense booty, and a
great many prisoners. Among other vessels, they took
a galley richly laden, on board of which they found a
great variety of valuable furniture, and a royal robe,
which PhTa herself had wrought and sent as a present
to her husband Demetrius, accompar ied with a letter
written with her own hand. The Rhodians sent the
furniture, ihe royal robe, and even the letter, to Pto¬
lemy ; which exasperated Demetrius to a great de¬
gree.
While Demetrius was preparing to attack the city,
the Rhodians having assembled the people and magi¬
strates to consult about, the measures they should take,
some proposed in the assembly the pulling down of the
statues of Antigonus and his son Demetrius, which
till then had been held in the utmost veneration. But
this proposal was generally rejected with indignation,
and their prudent conduct greatly allayed the wrath
both of Antigonus and Demetrius. However, the
latter continued to carry on the siege with the utmost
vigour, thinking it would reflect no small dishonour
on him were be obliged to quit the place without
making himself master of it. He caused the walls to
be secretly undermined: but, when they "were ready
to fall, a deserter very opportunely gave notice of the
whole to the townsmen ; who having, with all expe¬
dition, drawn a deep trench all along the wall, began to
countermine, and, meeting the enemy under ground,
obliged them to abandon the work. While both par¬
ties guarded the mines, one Athenagoras a Milesian,
who had been sent to the assistance of the Rhodians by
Ptolemy with a body of mercenaries, promised to be¬
tray the city to the Demetrians, and let them in through
the mines in the night-time. But this was only in
order to ensnare them ; for Alexander, a noble Ma¬
cedonian, whom Demetrius had sent with a choice
body of troops to take possession of a post agreed on,
no sooner appeared, but he was taken prisoner by the
Rhodians, who were waiting for him under arms.—
Athenagoras was crowned by the senate with a crown
of gold, and presented with five talents of silver.
Demetrius now gave over all thoughts of under¬
mining the walls, and placed all his hopes of reducing
the city in the battering engines which he had con¬
trived. Having therefore levelled the ground under
the walls he brought up his helepolis, with four te-
studoes on each side of it. Two other testudoes of an
extraordinary size, bearing battering-rams, were like¬
wise moved forward by a thousand men. Each story of
the heiepolis was filled with all sorts of engines for
discharging of stones, arrows, and darts. When all Rhodes,
things were ready, Demetrius ordered the signal to
be given ; when his men, setting up a shout, assaulted
the city on all sides both by sea and land. But, in
the heat of the attack, when the walls were ready to
fall by the repeated strokes of the battering rams, am¬
bassadors arrived from Cnidus, earnestly soliciting De¬
metrius to suspend all further hostilities, and at the
same time giving him hopes that they should prevail
upon the Rhodians to submit to an honourable capi¬
tulation. A suspension of arms was accordingly agreed
on, and ambassadors sent from both sides. But the
Rhodians refusing to capitulate on the conditions of¬
fered them, the attackwras renewed wdth so much fury,
and the machines played off in so brisk a manner,
that a large tower built with square stones, and the
wall that flanked it were battered down. The besie¬
ged, nevertheless, fought in the breach with so much
courage and resolution, that the enemy, after various
unsuccessful attempts, were forced to abandon the en¬
terprise, and retire. ig
In this conjuncture, a fleet which Ptolemy had The be-
freighted with 300,000 measures of corn, and diffe- s*foed re-
rent kinds of pulse for the use of the Rhodians, ar-
rived very seasonably in the port, notwithstanding the provuLL,
vigilance of the enemy’s ships, which cruized on the ami set the
coasts of the island to surprise them. A few days-enemy’s
after came in safe two other fleets, one sent by Cas- ensines on
sander, with 100,000 bushels of barley ; the other ^rL’
by Lysimachus, with 400,0C0 bushels of corn and as
many of barley. This seasonable and plentiful supply
at riving when the city began to suffer for want of
provisions, inspired the besieged with new courage,
and raised their drooping spirits. Being thus animated,
they formed a design of setting the enemy’s engines on.
fire; and with this view ordered a body of men to sally
out the night ensuing, about the second watch, with
torches and firebrands, having first placed on the walls
an incredible number of engines, to discharge stones,
arrows, darts, and fireballs, against those who should
attempt to oppose their detachment. The Rhodian
troops, pursuant to their orders, all on a sudden sallied
out, and advancing, in spite of all opposition, to the bat¬
teries, set them on fire, v\ bile the engines from the walls
p ayed incessantly on those who endeavoured to extin¬
guish the flames. The Demetrians on this occasion fell
in great numbers, being incapable, in the darkness of
the night, either to see the engines that continually dis¬
charged showers of stones and arrows upon them, or to
join in one body and repulse the enemy. The confla¬
gration was so great, that several plates of iron falling
from the helepolis, that vast engine would have been
entirely consumed, had not the troops that were sta¬
tioned in it with all possible speed quenched the fire
with water, before prepared, and ready in the apart¬
ments of the engine against such accidents. Deme¬
trius, fearing lest all his machines should be consumed,
called together, by sound of trumpet, those whose pro¬
vince it was to move them ; and, by their help, brought
them off before they were entirely destroyed. When it
was day, he commanded all the darts and arrows that
had been shot by the Rhodians to be carefully gather¬
ed, that he might from their numbers form some judge¬
ment of the number of machines in the city. Above
800 firebrands were found on the spot, and no fewer
than
Rhodes.
17
They build
a third
wall.
18
D emetrius
makes a
breach in
the walls,
but is still
repulsed.
19
Hk troop*
enter the
breach;
It HO [6] RHO
than 1 .'500 darts, all discharged in a very small portion
of the night. This struck the prince himself with no
small terror ; for he never imagined that they would
have been able to bear the charges of such formidable
preparations. However, after having caused the slain
to be buried, and given directions for the curing of
the wounded, he applied himself to the repairing of
his machines, which had been dismounted and ren¬
dered quite unserviceable.
In the mean time, the besieged, improvingthe respite
allowed them by the removal of the machines, built a
third wall in the form of a crescent, which took in all
that part that was most exposed to the enemy’s bat¬
teries; and, besides, dre*v a deep trench behind the
breach, to prevent the enemy from entering the city
that way. At the same time, they detached a squadron
of their best ships, under the command of Amyntas,
who made over to the continent of Asia ; and there
meeting with some privateers who were commissioned
by Demetrius, took both the ships and the men, among
whom were Timocles the chief of the pirates, and se¬
veral other officer's of distinction belonging to the fleet
of Demetrius. On their return, they fell in with seve¬
ral vessels laden with corn for the enemy’s camp, which
they likewise took, and brought into the port. These
were soon followed by a numerous fleet of small vessels
loaded with corn and provisions sent them by Ptolemy,
together with 1500 men, commanded by Antigonus a
Macedonian of great experience in military affairs.—
Demetrius, in the mean time, having repaired his ma¬
chines, brought them up anew to the walls; which he
incessantly battered till he opened a great breach and
threw down several towers. But when he came to the
assault, the Rhodians, under the command of Aminias,
defended themselves with such resolution and intrepi¬
dity, that he was in three successive attacks repulsed
with great slaughter, and at last forced to retire. The
Rhodians likewise, on this occasion, lost several offi¬
cers ; and amongst others, the brave Aminias their
commander.
While the Rhodians were thus signalizing them-
selves in the defence ot their country, a second embassy
arrived at the camp of Demetrius from Athens and
the other cities of Greece, soliciting Demetrius to com¬
pose matters, and strike up a peace with the Rhodians.
At the request of the ambassadors, who were in all
above 50, a cessation of arms was agreed upon; but
the termsoffered by Demetrius being again rejected by
the Rhodians, the ambassadors returned home without
being able to bring the contending parties to an agree¬
ment. Hostilities were therefore renewed; and Deme¬
trius, whose imagination was fertile in expedients for
succeeding in his projects, formed a detachment of
1500 of his best troops, under the conduct of Alcimus
and Mancius, two officers of great resolution and ex¬
perience, ordering them to enter the breach at mid¬
night, and, forcing the entrenchment behind it, to pos¬
sess themselves of the posts about the theatre, where it
would be no difficult matter to maintain themselves
against any efforts of the townsmen. In order to fa¬
cilitate the execution of so important and dangerous
an undertaking, and amuse the enemy with false at¬
tacks, he at the same time, upon a signal given, order¬
ed the rest of the army to set up a shout, and attack the
city on all sides both by sea and land. By this means
he hoped that, the besieged being alarmed in all parts, Rhodes,
his detachment might tind an opportunity of forcing Wo-y--*'
the entrenchments which covered the breach, and af¬
terwards of seizing the advantageous post about the
theatre. This feint had all the success the prince could
expect; for the troops having set up a shout from
all quarters, as if they were advancing to a general
assault, the detachment commanded by Alcimus and
Mancius entered the breach, and fell upon those who
defended the ditch, and the wall that covered it, with
such vigour, that, having slain the most part of them
and put the rest in confusion, they advanced to the
theatre, and seized on the post adjoining to it. This
occasioned a general uproar in the city,as if it had been
already taken: but the commanding officers dispatched
orders to the soldiers on the ramparts not to quit their
posts, nor stir from their respective stations. Having
thus secured the walls, they put themselves at the head
of a chosen body of their own troops, and of those who
were lately come from Egypt, and with these charged
the enemy’s detachment. But the darkness of the night
prevented them from dislodging the enemy and re¬
gaining the advantageous posts they had seized. Day,
however, no sooner appeared, than they renewed their
attack with wonderful bravery. The Demetrians with¬
out the walls, with loud shouts endeavoured to animate
thoae who had entered the place, and inspire them with
resolution to maintain their ground till they were re¬
lieved with fresh troops. The Rhodians being sen¬
sible that their fortunes, liberties, and all that was dear
to them in the world, lay at stake, fought like men in
the utmost despair, the enemy defending their posts for
several hours without giving ground in the least. At
length the Rhodians, encouraging each other to exert
themselves in defence of their country, and animated
by the example of their leaders, made a last effort, and,
breaking into the very heart of the enemy’s battalion,
there killed both their commanders. After their death .
the rest were easily put in disorder, and all to a man kiiiedsT **
either killed or taken prisoners. The Rhodians like- take*,
wise on this occasion lost many of their best command¬
ers ; and among the rest Damotetis, their chief ma¬
gistrate, a man of extraordinary valour, wh® had sig¬
nalized himself during the whole time of the siege.
Demetrius, not at all discouraged by this check, was
making the necessary preparations for a new assault,
when he received letters from his father Antigonus, en¬
joining him to conclude a peace with the Rhodians
upon the best terms he could get, lest he should lose
bis whole army in the siege of a single town. From
tins time Demetrius wanted only some plausible pre¬
tence for breaking up the siege. The Rhodians like¬
wise were now more inclined to come to an agreement
than formerly ; Ptolemy having acquainted them that
he intended to send a great quantity of corn, and 3000
men to their assistance, but that he would first have
them try whether they could make up matters with
Demetrius upon reasonable terms. At the same time
ambassadors arrived from the /Etolian republic, solicit¬
ing the contending parties to put an end to a war
which might involve ad the east in endless calamities.
An accident which happened to Demetrius in this ?1
conjuncture, did not a little contribute towards the ,leIe*
wished-for pacification. This prince was preparing to dere/uw-
advance his helepolis against the city, when a Rhodian las.
engineer
Rhode*.
22
The siege
msec!.
2S
■War with
the Byzan¬
tines.
24
A dreadful
earthquake
at Rhodes.
mi o [ r ] r h o
enpinrer fmtntT means to render it quite listless. He
undermined t!ie tract of ground over which thehelepolis
was to pas'* the nextday in order to approach thewaHs.
Demetrius not suspecting any strat agem of this nature,
caused the engine to be moved forward, which coming
to the place that was undermined, sunk so deep into
the gi'ound that it was impossible to draw it out again.
This misfortune, if " e believe Vegetius and Vitruvius,
determined Demetrius to hearken to the^Dtolian am¬
bassadors, and at last to strike up a peace upon the fol¬
lowing conditions: That the republic of Rhodes should
be maintained in the full enjoyment of their ancient
rights, privileges, and liberties, without any foreign
garrison; that they should renew their ancient alliance
with Antigonus, and assist him in his wars against all
states and princes except Ptolemy king of Egypt; and
that, for the effectual performance of the articles stipu¬
lated between them, they should deliver 100 hostages,
•uch as Demetrius should make choice of, except
those who bore any public employment.
Thus was the siege raised, after it had continued a
whole year; and the Rhodians amply rewarded all
those whe had distinguished themselves in the service
of their country. They also set up statues to Ptolemy,
Cassander. and Lysimachus; to all of whom they paid
the highest honours, especially to the first, whom they
worshipped as a god. Demetrius at his departure pre¬
sented them with the helepolis, and all the other ma¬
chines which he had employed in battering the city ;
from the sale of which, with some additional sums of
their own, they erected the famous colossus. After this
they applied themselves entirely to trade and naviga¬
tion ; by which means they becamequite masters of the
tea, and much more opulent than any of the neigh¬
bouring nations. As far as lay in their power, they
endeavoured to preserve a neutrality with regard to
the jarring nations of the east. However, they could
not avoid a war with the Byzantines, the occasion of
which was as follows: The Byzantines being obliged
to pay a yearly tribute of 80 talents to the Gauls, in
order to raise thissum, they came to a resolution of lay¬
ing a toll on all ships that traded to the Poetic Sea.
This resolution provoked the Rhodians, who were a
trading nation, above all the rest. For this reason they
immediately dispatched ambassadors to the Byzantines,,
complaining of the new tax ; but as the Byzantines
had no other method of satisfying the Gauls, they
pe sisted in their resolution. The Ithodians now de¬
clared war, and prevailed upon Prusias kingof Bithy-
nia, and Attains king of Pergamus, to assist them ; by
which confederacy the Byzantines were so intimidated,
that they agreed to exact no toll from ships trading
to the Pontic sea, the demand which had been the
occasion of the war.
About this time happened a dreadful earthquake,
which threw down the colossus, the arsenal, and great
part of the city walls of Rhodes ; which calamity the
Rhodians improved to their advantage, sending ambas¬
sadors to all the Grecian princes and states, to whom
their losses were so much exaggerated, that their coun¬
trymen ootained immense sums of money under pre¬
tence of repairing them. Hiero king of Syracuse pre¬
sented them with 100 talents j and, besides, exempted
from all tolls and duties such as traded to Rhodes.
Ptolemy king of Egypt gave them 100 talents, a mil¬
lion of measures of wheat, materials for building 20 Rkodra-
qviinqueremes and the like number of triremes; and be- ^-*-7—>**
sides, sent them 100 architects, 800workmen, and ma¬
terials for repairing their public buildings, to a great
value, paying them moreover 14 talents a-year for the
maintenance of the w’orkmen whom he sent them.
Antigonus gave them 100 talents of silver with 10,000
pieces of timber, each piece being Id cubits long; 7000
planks ; SOOO pounds ot iron, as many of pitch and ro¬
sin, and 1000 measures of tar Chryseis, a woman of
distinction, sent them 100,000 measures of wheat, and
8000 pounds of lead. Antiochus exempted from all
taxes and duties the Rhodian ships trading to his do¬
minions ; presented them with 10 galleys, and 200,000
measures of corn, with many other things of great Va¬
lue. Prusias, Mithridates, and all the princes then
reigningin Asia, made them proportionable presents ;
in short, all the Greek towns and nations, all the princes
of Europe and Asia, contributed, according to their
ability, to the relief of the Rhodians on that occasion ;
insomuch that their city not only soon arose from its
ruins, but attained to an higher pitch of splendour
than ever. ^ ?
In the year 203 B. C. the Rhodians engaged in a war
war with Philip of Macedon. This monarch had inva- Philip o£>
ded the territories of Attains king of Pergamus ; and Macedon*
because the Rhodians seemed to favour their ancient
friend, sent one Heraclides, by birth a Tarentine, to
set fire to their fleet; at the same time that hedispatch-
ed ambassadors into Crete, in order to stir up the Cre¬
tans against the Rhodians, and prevent them from send¬
ing any assistance to Attalus. Upon this war was im¬
mediately proclaimed. Philip at first gained an incon¬
siderable advantage in a naval engagement; but the
next year was defeated with the loss of 11,000 men,
while the Rhodians lost but 60 men and Attalus 70.
After this he carefully avoided coming to an engage¬
ment at sea either with Attalus or the Rhodians. The
combined fleet, in the mean time, sailed towards the
island of iEgina in hopes of intercepting him : but ha¬
ving failed in their purpose, they sailed to Athens,
where they concluded a treaty with that people; and,
on their return, drew all the Cyclades into a confede¬
racy against Philip. But while the allies were thus
wasting their time in negociations, Philip, having divi¬
ded his forces into two bodies, sent one, under the com-
mand of Philocles, to ravage the Athenian territories ;
and put the other aboard his fleet, with orders to sail
to Meronea, a city on the north side of Thrace. He
then marched towards that city himself with a body of
forces, took it by assault, and reduced a great many
others; so that the confederates would, in all pro- 26
bability, have had little reason to boast of their sue- Rha-
cess, had not the Romans come to their assistance, by ejd£y^eS°~
whose help the war was soon terminated to their ad- j^oman^
vantage. In the war which took place between.the
Romans and Antiochus the Great king of Syria, the
Rhodians were very useful allies to the former. The
best part of their fleet was indeed destroyed by a trea¬
cherous contrivance ot Polyxeniades the Syrian ai mi-
ral; but they soon fitted out another, and defeated a
Syrian squadron commanded by the celebra’ed Hanni--
bal, the Carthaginian commander; after which, in con¬
junction with the Romans, they utterly defeated the
whole Syrian fleetcoaimandedby Polyxeniades; which
together
E II 0
[ § ]
E II O
Rhodes.
27
Rhodes be¬
sieged by
Mithri-
dates with¬
out success.
2ft
The Rho¬
dians de¬
feated in
two naval
engage¬
ments by
Cassius,
together with the loss of the battle of Magnesia, so di¬
spirited Antioch us, that he submitted to whatever
conditions the Romans pleased.
For these services the Rhodians were rewarded with
the provinces of Lycia and Caria; but tyrannizing
over the people in a terrible manner, the Lycians ap¬
plied to the Romans for protection. This was readily
granted; but the Rhodians were so much displeased
with their interfering in this matter, that they secretly
favoured Perses in the war which broke out between
him and the Roman republic. For this offence the
two provinces above mentioned were taken from them ;
but the Rhodians, havingbanishedor put to death those
who had favoured Perses, were again admitted into fa¬
vour, and greatly honoured by the senate. In the Mi-
thridatic war, their alliance with Rome brought upon
them the king of Pontus with all his force ; but having
lost the greatest part of his fleet before the city, he was
obliged to raise the siege without performing any re¬
markable exploit. In the war which Pompey made on
the Cilician pirates, the Rhodians assisted him with all
their naval force, and had a great share in the victories
which he gained. In the civil war between Caesar and
Pompey, they assisted the latter with a very numerous
fleet. After his death they joined Caesar ; which
drew upon them the re'entment of C. Cassius, who ad¬
vanced to the island of Rhodes with a powerful fleet,
after having reduced the greatest part of the continent.
The Rhodians, terrified at his approach, sent ambas¬
sadors intreating him to make up matters in an amicable
manner, and promising to stand neuter, and recal the
ships which they had sent to the assistance of the tri¬
umviri. Cassius insisted upon their delivering up their
fleet to him, and putting him in possession both of their
harbour and city. This demand the Rhodians would
by no means comply with, and therefore began to put
themselves in a condition to stand a siege ; but first
sent Arehelaus, who had taught Cassius the Greek
tongue while be studied at Rhodes, to intercede with
his disciple In their behalf. Archelaus could not, with
all his authority, prevail upon him-to moderate his de¬
mands ; wherefore the Rhodians, having created one
Alexander, a bold and enterprising many their praetor or
pry tan is, equipped a fleet of 33 sail, and sent it out un¬
der the command of Mnaseus, an experienced sea-offi¬
cer, to offer Cassius battle. Roth fleets fought with
incredible bravery, and the victory was long doubtful:
but the Rhodians, being at length overpowered by
numbers, were forced to return with their fleet to
Rhodes ; two of their ships being sunk, and the rest
very much damaged by the heavy ships of the Ho¬
mans. This was the first time, as our author observes,
that the Rhodians were fairly overcome in a sea-fight.
Cassius, who had beheld this fight from a neighbour¬
ing hill, having refitted his fleet^ which had been no
less damaged than that of the Rhodians, repaired to
Loryma, a stronghold on the continent belonging to
the Rhodi ans. This castle he took by assault; and from
hence conveyed h s land-forces, under the conduct of
Fannins and Lentulus, over into the island. His fleet
consisted of 80 ships of war and above 200 transports.
The Rhodians no sooner saw this mighty fleet appear,
but they went out again to meet the enemy. The se¬
cond engagement was far more bloody than the first ;
many ships were sunk, and great numbers of men kill¬
ed on both side?. Rut victory anew declared for the
Romans ; who immediately blocked up the city of
Rhodes both by sea and land. As the Rhodians had
not.had time to furnish the city with sufficient store of
provisions, some of the inhabitants, fearing that if it
were taken eitherbyassault orby famine, Cassius would
put all the inhabitants to the sword, as Brutus had
lately done at Xanthus, privately opened the gate to
him, and put him in possession of the town, which he
nevertheless treated as if it had been taken by assault.
He commanded 50 of the chief citizens, who were sus¬
pected to favour the adverse party, to be brought be¬
fore him, and sentenced them all ro die ; others, to the
number of 25, who had commanded the fleet or army,
because they did not appear when summoned, he pro¬
scribed Having thus punished such as had either act¬
ed or spoken against him or h:s party, he commanded
the Rhodians to deliver up to him all their ships, and
whatever money they had in the public treasury. He
then plundered the temples; strippingthem of all their
valuable furniture, vessels, and statues. He is said not
to have left one statue in the whole city., except that
of the sun; bragging, at his departure, that he had
stripped the Rhodians of all they had,leavingthem no¬
thing but the sun. As to private persons, he command¬
ed them, under severe penalties, to bring to him all the
gold and silver they had, promising, by a public crier,
a tenth part to such as should discover any hidden trea¬
sures. The Rhodians at first concealed some part of
their wealth, imagining that Cassius intended by this
proclamation only to terrify them ; but when they
found he was in earnest, and saw several wealthy citi¬
zens put to death for concealing only a small portion
of their riches, they desired that the time prefixed for
the bringing in their gold and silver might be prolong¬
ed. Cassius willingly granted them their request; and
then through fear they dug up what they had hid un¬
der ground, and laid at his feet all they were worth
in the wo'ld. By this means he extorted from private
persons above 8000 talents. He then fined the city
in 500 more : and leaving L Varus there with a strong
garrison to exact the fine without any abatement, he
returned to the continent.
After the death of Cassius, Marc Antony restored
the Rhodians to their ancient rights and privileges ;
bestowing upon them the islands of Andros, Naxos,
Tenos, and the city of Myndus. But these the Rho¬
dians so oppressed and loaded with taxes, that the same
Antony, though a great friend to the Rhodian repub¬
lic, was obliged to divest her of the sovereignty over
those places, which he had a little before so liberally
bestowed upon her. From this time to the reign of the
emperor Claudius we find no mention made of the
Rhodians. That prince, as Dion informs us, deprived
them of their liberty for having crucified s: me Roman
citizens. However, he soon restored them to their for¬
mer condition, as we read in "Suetonius and Tacitus.
The latter adds, that they had been as often deprived
of, as restored to, their liberty, by way of punishment
or reward for their different behaviour, as they h; d ob¬
liged the Romans with their assistance in foreign wars,
or provoked them with their seditions at home. Pliny.,
who wrote in the beginning of Vespasian’s reign, style-
Rhodes a beautiful and free town. But this liberty they
did not long enjoy, the island became soon after reduced
by
Uliodos.
29
Who takes
and cruelly
pillages the
city.
30
Rhodes re¬
duced to a
Roman
province by
Vespasian-
II I I 0
[ 9 ]
K II 0
Tthodes.
31
Expedi¬
tions of
Villaret
grand-ma¬
ster of the
knights of
Jerusalem
against
Rhodes.
32
He con¬
quers the
Saracens,
and redu¬
ces the
island.
33
The city
jesieged by
tiolyman.
by the same Vespasian to a Roman province, and obli¬
ged to pay a yearly tribute to their new masters. This
province was called the province of the islands. The Ho¬
man praetor who governed it resided at Rhodes, as the
chief city under his jurisdiction ; and Rome, notwith¬
standing the eminent services rendered her by this re¬
public, thenceforth treated the Rhodians not as allies,
but vassals.
The island of Rhodes continued subject to the Ro¬
mans till the reign of the emperor Andronicus ; when
Vi!laret,grand-maeter of the knights of Jerusalem,then
residing in Cyprus, finding himself much exposed to
the attacks of the Saracens in that island, resolved to
exchange it for that of Rhodes. This island too was
almost entirely occupied by the Saracens ; Andronicus
the eastern emperor possessing little more in it than a
castle. Nevertheless he refused to grant the investiture
of the island to Villaret. The latter, without spend¬
ing time in fruitless negociations, sailed directly for
Rhodes, where he landed his troops, provisions, and
warlike stores, in spite ef the opposition made by the
Saracens, who then united against the common enemy.
As Villaret foresaw that the capital must be taken be¬
fore he could reduce the island, he instantly laid siege
to it. The inhabitants defended themselves obstinately,
upon which thegrand-master thought proper to turn the
siege into a blockade ; but lie soon found himself so
closely surrounded by the Greeks and-S macens, that he
could get no supply either of forage or provisions for his
army. But having at length obtained a supply of pro¬
visions by means of large sums borrowed of the Floren¬
tines, he came out of his trenches and attacked the Sa¬
racens, with a full resolution either to conquer or die.
A bloody fi^ht ensued, in which a great number of the
bravest knights were killed : but atlength the Saracens
gave way, and fled to their ships ; upon which the city
was immediately assaulted and taken. The Greeks find
otherChristians had their livesand liberties given them,
but the Saracens were all cut to pieces. The reduction
of the capital was followed by that oi all the other pla¬
ces of inferior strength throughout the island ; and in
four years after their landing, the whole was subjugat¬
ed, and the conquerors took the title of the Knights
of Rhodes. For many years those knights continued
the terror of the Saracens and Turks, and sustained a
severe siege from Mohammed II. who was compelled
to abandon the enterprise ; but at length the Turkish
sultan Solyman resolved at all events to drive them
from it. Before he undertook the expedition, he sent
a message commanding them to depart from the island
without delay ; in which case he promised that nei¬
ther they nor the inhabitants should suffer any injury,
but threatened them with his utmost vengeance if
they refused his offer. The knights, however, proving
obstinate, Solyman attacked the city with a fleet of
400 sail and an army of 140,000 men.
The trenches were soon brought close to the counter¬
scarp, and a strong battery raised against the town;
which, however, did but little damage, till the sultan
being informed by a spy of this particular, and that
he was in danger of receiving some fatal shot from the
tower of St John which overlooked his camp, he plant¬
ed a battery against that tower, and quickly brought it
down. Solyman, however, finding the whole place in
some measure covered with strong fortifications of such
V<m.. XVIII. Part I.
Rhodes.
height as to command all his batteries, ordered an im¬
mense quantity of stones and earth to be brought; in
which so great a number of hands were employed night
and day by turns, that they quickly raised a couple of
hillocks high enough to overtop the city wads. They
plied them accordingly with such a continual fire, that
the grand-master was obliged to cause them to be strong¬
ly propped within with earth and timber. All this
while the besieged, who, from the top of the grand¬
master’s palace, could discover how their batteries were
planted, demolished them with their cannon almost as
fast as they raised them. 34
Here the enemy thought proper to alter their mea- Terribly
sures, and to plant a strong battery against the tower of batteml-
St Nicholas, which, in the former siege by Mohammed,
had resisted all the efforts of the then grand-vizier. This
the basluw of Romania caused to be battered with 12
large pieces of brass cannon, but had the mortification
to see them all d smounted by those of the tower : to
prevent which in future, he ordered them to be fired
only in the night, and in the day had them covered with
gabions and earth. This had such success, that, after
5000 cannon shot, the wall began to shake and tumble
into the ditch ; bnt he was surprised to find another
wall behind it well terraced, and bordered with artil¬
lery, and himself obliged either to begin afresh or give
up the enterprise : and yet this last was what Solyman
pre ferred, when he was to'd of its being built on a hard
rock, incapable of being sapped, and how firmly it had
held out against all the efforts of Mohammed's vizier.
The next attack was therefore ordered by him to be
made against the bastions of the town, and tint with
a vast number of the largest artillery, which continued
firing during a whole month ; so tli it the new wall of
the bastion of England was quite demolished, though
the o!d one stood proof against all their shot. That
of Italy, which was battered by 17 large pieces of can¬
non, was still worse damaged ; upon which Martinen-
go the engineer advised the grand-master to cause a
sally to be made on the trenches of the enemy out of
the breach, whilst he was making fresh intrenchments
behind it. His advice succeeded ; and the 200 men
who sallied out sword in hand having surprised the
Turks in the trench, cut most of them in pieces. At
the same time a new detachment, which was sent to
repulse them, being obliged, as that engineer rightly
judged, to pass by a spot which lay open to their ar¬
tillery, were likewise mostly destroyed by the continual
fire that came from it, whilst the assailants were em¬
ployed in filling up several fathoms of the trench be¬
fore they retired. By that time the breach had been re¬
paired with such new works, that all the efforts to mount
it by assault proved equally ineffectual and destructive.
Unfortunately forthebesieged, the continualfirethey Th ^ .
had made caused such a consumption of their powder, ge/want"
that they began to feel the want of it; the perfidious powder,
d’Amarald, whose province it had been to visit the but bn4
magazines of it, having amused the council with a false me3ns to
report, that there was more than sufficient to maintain defect! ^ ^
the siege, though it should last a whole twelvemonth.
Butherethegrand-master found meanstosupply in some
measure thatunexpecteddefect,by thecautiousprovision
he had made of a large quantity of saltpetre, which was
immediately ground and made into gunpowder, though
he was at the same time obliged to order the engineeers
B to
Rhodes.
Desperate
encounters
m mines,
Ae.
ft II O [ 10 ] ft H O
to be more sparing of it for the future, and to make use
of it only in the defence of such breaches as the enemy
should make.
All this while the Turks had not gained an inch of
ground ; and the breaches they had made were so sud¬
denly either repaired or defended by new intrenchment s,
that thevery rubbishofthem must bemountedbyassault.
Solyman, therefore, thought it now advisable to set his
numerous pioneers at work, in five different parts, in
digging of mines, each of which led to the bastion op¬
posite to it. Some of these were countermined by a new
invented method of Martinengo ; who, by the help of
braced skins, or drums, could discover where the miners
were at work. Some of these he perceived, which he
caused to be opened, and the miners to be driven out by
hand grenadoes; others to be smothered, or burned, by
setting fire to gunpowder. Yet did not this hinder two
considerable ones to be sprung, which did a vast deal of
damage to the bastion of England, by throwing down
about six fathoms of the wall, and filling up the ditch
with its rubbish ; whereupon the Turks immediately
climbed up sword in hand to the top of it, and planted
seven of their standards upon the parapet; but being
stopped by a traverse, the knights, recovering from their
surprise fell upon them with such fury, that they were
obliged to abandon it with great loss. The grand-master,
who was then at church, quickly came to the place with
his short pike in his hand, attended by his knights, en¬
couraging all he met with, burghers, soldiers, and
others, to fight bravely in defence of their religion and
country, and arrived time enough to assist in taking
down their standards, and driving down the enemy by
the way they came up. In vain did the vizier Mustapha
endeavour to prevent their flight by killing some of the
foremo^twith his sword, and driving the rest back; they
wereobliged toabandon the baslion.and, which was still
worse, met with that death in their flight, which they
bad strove to shun from the fire-arms which were dis¬
charged upon them from the ramparts. Three sangiacs
lost their lives in this attack, besides some thousands of
the Turks ; the grand-master, on his side, lost some of
his bravest knights, particularly his standard-bearer.
The attacks were almost daily renewed with the same
ill sucess andloss ofmen, every general striving to signa¬
lize himself in the sightof their emperor. At length the
old general Peri, or Pyrrus, having harassed the troops
which guarded thebastion of Italy for several days suc¬
cessively without intermission, caused a strong detach¬
ment, which he had kept concealed behind acavalier, to
mount the place by break of day, on the 13th of Septem¬
ber ; where, finding them overcome with sleep and fa¬
tigue, they cut the throats of the sentinels, and sliding
through the breach, were just going to fall upon them.
The Italians, however quickly recovered themselves
and their arms, andgavetheman obstinatei-epulse. The
contest was fierce and bloody on both sides; and the ba¬
shaw, still supplying his own with new reinforcements,
would hardly have failed of overpowering the others
bad not the grand-master, whom the alarm had quickly
reached, timely intervened, and by his presence, as
well as example, revived his Rhodians, and thrown a
sudden panic among the enemy. Pyrrus, desirous to do
something to wipe off the disgrace of this repube, tried
his fortune next on an adjoining work, lately raised by
£he grand-master Carettii: buthere his soldiers met with
a still worse treatment, being almost overwhelmed with
thehand-grenadoes, meltedpiich, andboilingoil, which
came pouring upon them, whitst theforces which were on
the adjacent flanks made as great a slaughter of those
that fled; insomuch that the janissaries began to resume
their old murmuring tone, and cry out that they w ere
brought thither only to be slaughtered.
The grand viziet Mustapha, afraid lest their complaints
should reach his master, agreed at length, as the last re¬
sort, to make a fresh attempt on the bastion of England,
whilst,to cause a diversion,the bashaw Achmed sprung
some fresh mines at an opposite part of the city. . 1 his
was accordingly executed on the 17th of September ;
when the former, at the head of five battalions, resolute¬
ly mounted or rather crept up the breach, and, in spite
of the fire of the English, advanced so far as to pitch
some standards on the top ; when, on a sudden, a crowd
of English knights, commanded oy one liouk, or Burk,
sallied out of their intrenchments, and, assisted by some
other officers of distinction, obliged them to retire, though
in good order. Mustapha, provoked at it, led them b .ck,
and killed several knights with his own hand ; and had
his men supported him as they ought, the place must
have been yielded to him : but the fire which was made
from the adjacent batteries and musketry disconcerted
them to such a degree, that neither threats nor entreaties
could prevent their abandoning the enterprise, and
dragging him away with them by main force. The
Rhodians lost in that action several brave knights, both
English and German; and, in particular, John Burk,
their valiant commander : but the Tinks lost above
3000 men, besides many officers of distinction. Much
the same ill success having attended Achmed with his
mines, one of which had been opened, and the other
only bringing some fathoms of the wall down, he was
also obliged to retreat; his troops, though some of the
very best, being forced to disperse themselves, after
having borne the fire and fury of the Spanish and
Auvergnian knights as long as they were able.
By this time Solyman, ashamed and exasperated at
his ill success, called a gene al council; in which he
made some stinging reflections on Ins vizier, for having
represented the reduction of Rhodes as a very easy en¬
terprise. To avoid the effects of the suit n’s resent¬
ment, the subtle Mustapha declared, that hitherto they
had fought the enemy as it were upon equal terms, as
if they bad been afraid of taking an ungenerous advan¬
tage of their superiority, by which, said he, we have
given them an opportunity of opposing us with their
united force wherever we attacked them. But let us
now resolve upon a general assault on several sides of
the town ; and see what a poor defence their strength,
thus divided, will be able to make against our united
force. The advice was immediately approved by all,
and the time appointed for the execution of it was on
the 24th of that month, and every thing was ordered
to be got ready against that day. Accordingly the
town was equally assaulted at fourdifferent parts, after
having suffered acontinual fire forsometime from their
artillery in order to widen the breaches ; by which the
grand-mastereasily understood their design, and thatthe
bastions of England and Spain, the post of Provence,
and terrace of Italy, were pitched upon f or the assault,
and took his pi'ecautions accordingly.
The morning was no sooner come, than each party
mounted
Rhodes.
37
An assault
in four dif»
ferent
places at
once.
Rhodes.
II II 0 C 11 ] R II O
mounted their respective breach with an undaunted ed. But the most dreadful fate of aU had like to have Rhodes,
bravery, the youn<r sultan, to animate them the more, fallen on the favourite vizier Mustapha, who had pro-
having ordered his throne to be reared on an eminence, posed this general assault; the ill success of which had
whence he could see all that was done. The Rhodians, so enraged the proud sultan, that he condemned him to
on the other hand, were no less diligent in repulsing be shot with arrows at the head of his army ; which
them with their cannon and other fire arms, with their dreadful sentence was just ready to be executed, when
melted lead, boiling oil, stink pots, and other usual ex- the old bashaw, by his intreaties, obtained a suspension
pedients. The one side ascend the scaling ladders, fear- of it, in hopes that, when his fury was abated, he should
less of all that opposed them ; the other overturn their also obtain his pardon.
ladders, and send them tumbling down headlong into Solyman, however, was so discouraged by Mis ill sue-
the ditches, where they were overwhelmed with stones, cesses, that he was on the point of raising the siege, and
or dispatched with darts and other missile weapons, would have actually done so, had he not been diverted
The bastion of England proves the scene of the greatest from it by the advice which he received from an Alba-
slaughter and bloodshed ; and the grand-master makes man deserter, some say by a letter from the traitor d’
that his post of honour, and, by his presence and ex- Arnarald, that the far greater part of the knights were
ample, inspires his men with fresh vigour and bravery, either killed or wounded, and those that remained alto-
whilst the continual thunder of his artillery makes such gether incapable of sustaining a fresh assault. This ha-
horrid work among the assailants as chills all their cou- ving determined him to try his fortune once more, the
rage, and forces them to give way : the lieutenant-ge- command of his forces was turned over to the bashaw
neral, who commands the attack, leads them back with Achmed ; and, to show that he designed not to stir till
fresh vigour, and mounts the breach at the head of all; he was master of the place, he ordered a house to be
immediately after comes a cannon-ball from the Spanish built on the adjacent mount Philermo for his winter-
bastion, which overturns him dead into the ditch. This quarters. Achmed marched directly against the bastion
disaster, instead of fear and dread, fills them with a fu- of Spain, which had suffered the most; where, before
ficus desire of revenging his death : but all their obsti- he could open the trenches, his men fell thick and three-
mey cannot make the Rhodians go one st p back, fold by the constant fire both of small and great guns
whilst the priests, monks, young men and old, and even from the bastion of Auvergne. He lost still a much
women of every rank and age, assist them with an greater number in rearing a rampart of earth to cover
uncommon ardour andfirmness; some in overwhelming the attack, and give him an opportunity of sapping the
the enemy with stones, others in destroying them with wall; and, as soon as he saw a large piece fall, ordered
melted lead, sulphur, and other combustibles; and a his men to mount the breach. They were no sooner
third sort in supplying the combatants with bread, cometothetop.thantheyfound anewworkandintrench-
wine, and other refreshments- ments which Martinengo had reared; and there they
The assault was no less desperate and bloody on the were welcomed with such a brisk fire from the artillery,
bastion of Spain, where the knights, who guarded it, that they were glad to recover their trenches with the
not expecting to be so soon attacked, and ashamed to utmost precipitation after having lost the much greater
stand idle, were assisting the bastion of Italy ; which part of their men. Theattack wasrenewed,anda recipro-
gave the Turks an opportunity to mount the breach, calfirecontinued with great obstinacy, till a musket-shot
and penetrate as far as their intrenchments, where they deprived that indefatigable engineer of one of his eyes,
planted no less than 30 of their standards on them, and the order of his assiduous services for some time.
The grand-master was quickly apprised of it, and or- The grand-master, having ordered him to be carried
dered the bastion of Auvergne to play against them ; to his palace, took his place, and kept it till he was
which was done with such diligence, and such continual quite cured, which was not till 34. days after; and conti-
fire, whilst the Rhodians enter the bastion by the help nued all the time in the intrenchments with his handful
of their Casemates, and, sword in hand, fall upon them of knights, scarcely allowing himself rest night or day,
with equal fury, that the lurks, alike beset by the fire and ever ready to exposehimself to the greatest dangers,
of the artdlery anti the arms of the Rhodian knights, with an ardour more becoming a junior officer than an
were forced to abandon the place with a considerable old worn out sovereign ; which made his knights more
loss. The aga with great bravery rallies them afresh, lavish of their own lives than their paucity and present
and brings them back, by which time the grand-mas- circumstances could well admit of.
ter likewise appeared, ihe fight was renewed with Soon after this, the treason of d’Amarald was dis-
greater fierceness ; and such slaughter was made on covered, and he was condemned to death and executed ;
both sides, that the grand-master was obliged to draw but by this time the city was reduced to the last ex-
raen mU Sit Nicholas tower to his assistance; tremity. The pope, emperor, and other crowned heads,
these were commanded by some Roman knights, who had been long and often importuned by the grand-mas-
led them on with such speed aud bravery, that their ter for speedy assistance, without success; and,asanad«
very appearanceonthe bastionmadethejanissariesdraw dition to all the other disasters, those succours which
back; which Solyman observing from his eminence, were sent to him from France and England perished at
caused a retreat to be sounded, to conceal the disgrace sea. The new supply which he had sent for of provi-
of their flight. In these attacks there fell about 15,000 sions from Candia bad the same ill fate ; so that the
of his best troops, besides several officers of distinction, winds, seas, and every thing, seemed combined to bring
1 he loss of the besieged was no less considerable, if we on the destruction of that city and order. The only re¬
judge from the small number of their forces ; but the source which could be thought ot\ under so dismal a si-
greatest of all to them was that of some of their bravest tuation, was, to send for the few remaining knights and
and most distinguished knights and commanders, many forces which were left to guard the other islands, to
of whom were killed, and scarce any escaped unwound- come to the defence of their capital, in hopes that if
B 2 they
R H O [ 12 ] li H 0
they could save this, the others might in time te reco¬
vered, in case the Turks should seize upon them. On
the other hand, Solyman, grown impatient at the small
ground his general had gained, gave him express orders
to renew the attack with all imaeinab’e speed and vi¬
gour, before the succours which he apprehended were
cpming from Europe, obliged him to raise the siege.
Achmed instantly obeyed, raised a battery of 17 large
cannon against the bastion of Italy, and quickly after
made himself master of it, obliged the garrison to re¬
tire farther into the city. Here the grand-master was
forced to demolish two of the churches, to prevent the
enemy’s seizing on them; and, with the;r materials,
caused some new works and entrenchments to te made
to hinder their proceeding farther.
The Turks, however, gained ground every day,
though they still lost vast numbers of their men ; at
length the 30th of November came, when the grand¬
master, and both the besiegers and besieged, thought
the last assault was to be given. The bashaw Pyrrus,
who commanded it, led his men directly to the en¬
trenchments ; upon which the bells of all the churches
sounded the alarm. The grand-master, and his few
knights, troops, and citizens, ran in crowds, and in a
confused disorderly manner, to the intrenchments, each
fighting in his own way, or rather as his fear directed
him. This attack would have proved one of the most
desperate that had yet been felt, had not a most vehe¬
ment rain intervened, which carried away all the earth
which the enemy had reared to serve them as a rampart
against the artillery of the bastion of Auvergne; so that
being now quite exposed to their continual fire, they
fell in such great numbers, that the bashaw could no
longer make them stand their ground, but all precipi¬
tately fled towards their camp. This last repulse threw
the proud sultan into such a fury, that none of his offi¬
cers dared to come near him ; and the shame of his ha¬
ving nowr spent near six whole months with such a nu¬
merous army before the place, and having lost such my¬
riads of his brave troops with so little advantage, had
made him quite desperate, and they all dreaded the
consequences of his resentment.
Pyrrus at length, having given it time to cool, ven¬
tured to approach him, and propose a new project to
him, which, if approved, could hardly fail of success ;
w hich was, to offer the towm a generous capitulation ;
and he observed, that in case the stubborn knights should
reject it, yet being now reduced to so small a number,
as well as their forces and fortifications almost destroy¬
ed, the citizens, who were most of them Greeks, and
less ambitious of glory than solicitous for their own pre¬
servation, would undoubtedly accept of any composi¬
tion that should secure to them their lives and effects.
This proposal being relished by the sultan, letters
were immediately dispersed about the city in his name,
exhorting them tosulmit to his government, and threat¬
ening them at the same time with the most dreadful ef¬
fects of his resentment if they persisted in their obsti¬
nacy. Pyrrus likewise dispatched a Genoese to ap¬
proach as near as he could to the bastion of Auvergne,
and to intreat the knights to take pity of so many of
their Christian brethren, and not expose them to the
dreadful effects which must follow their refusal of a ca¬
pitulation, so generously offered them at their last ex¬
tremity. Other agents were likewise employed in other
places: to all of whom the grand-master ordered some
of his men to return this answer. That his order never
treated w ith infidels but with sword in hand. An Al¬
banian wes sent next with a letter from the sultan to
him, who met with the same impulse ; after which, he
ordered his men to fire upon any that should present
themselves upon the same pretences; which was actually
done. But this did not prevent the Rhodians from lis¬
tening to the terms offered by the Turks, and holding
frequent cabals upon that subject; in which the general
massacre of a town taken by assault, the dreadful slavery
of those that escaped, the rape of their wives and daugh¬
ters, the destruction of their churches, the profanation
of their holy relics and sacred utensils, and other dire
consequences of an obstinate refusa', being duly weigh¬
ed against the sultan’s offers, quickly determined their
choice. The grand-master, however, proving inexorable
to all their intreaties, they applied to their Greek mttro-
politan,whoreadily wentand represented all these things
to him in the most pathetic terms : Yet he met with no
better reception ; but was told that he and his knights
were determined to be buried under the ruins of the
city if their swords could no longer defend it, and he
hoped their example would not permit them to show
less courage on that occasion. This answer produced a
quite contrary effect; and, as the citizens thought de¬
lays dangerous at such a juncture, they came in a body
to him by the very next morning, and plainly told him,
that if he paid no greater regard to their preservation,
they would not fail of taking the most proper measures to
preserve the li vesand ch aslit y of their wives and childre n.
This resolution could not but greatly alarm the
grand-master; who thereupon called a council of all
the knights, and informed them himself of the condition
of the place. These all agreed, particularly the engi¬
neer Martinengo, that it was no longer defensible, and
no other resource left but to accept the sultan’s offers ;
adding, at the same time, that though they wTere all rea¬
dy, according to the obligations of their order, to fight
to the last drop of their blood, yet it wras no less their
duty to provide for the safety of the inhabitants, who,
not being bound by the same obligations, ought not to
be made a sacrifice to their glory. It was therefore
agreed, with the grand-master’s consent, to accept of
the next offers the sultan should make. He did not let
them wait long : for the fear he was in of a fresh suc¬
cour from Europe, the intrepidity ofthe knights, and the
shame of being forced to raise the siege, prevailed upon
him to hang out his pacific flag, which wes quickly an¬
swered by another on the Rhodian side; upon which the
Turks, coming out of their trenches, delivered up the
sultan’s letter for the grand-master, to the grand-prior
of St Giles, and the engineer Martinengo. The terms
offered in it by Solyman appeared so advantageous, that
they immediately exchanged hostages; and the knights
that were sent to him had the honour to he introduced
to him, and to hear them confirmed by his own mouth,
though not without threats of putting all to fire and
sword in case of refusal, or even delay. Two ambassa¬
dors were forthwith sent to him, to demand a truce of
three days to settle the capitulation and interests of the
inhabitants, who were part Greeks and part Latins;
but thiswas absolutelyrefused bythe imnatient monarch,
out of a suspicion of the rumoured succour being near,
and that the truce was only to gain time till it was come.
He therefore ordered the hostilities to be renewed
w ith fresh fury; in which the Rhodians made a most
noble,
R II 0 [
Rhodes, noble ilefi. nee, cor sidering their small numbcr, and that
"'*”*'**) they had now only the barbican or false bray of the
bastion of Spain left to defend themselvf s, and once more
repulst d the enemy : at which the sultan was so enra¬
ged, that he resolved to overpower them by numbers on
the next day ; which was, after a stout defence, so ef¬
fectually done, that they were forced to abandon that
outwork, and retire into the city. In the meanwhile,
the burghers, who had but a day or two before raised
a fresh uproar against the grand-master, under pretence
that he was going to give them up a prey to an infidel
who regarded neither oaths nor solemn treaties, per¬
ceiving their own clanger, came now to desire him to
renew the negociations, and only begged the liberty of
sending one of their deputies along with his, to secure
their interests in the capitulation. He readily consented
to it; but gave them a charge to show the bashaw Ach-
med the treaty formerly concluded between Bajazet and
his predecessor d’Aubuissou, in which the former had
entailed a dreadful curse on any of his successors that
should infringe it. This was done, in hopes that the
showing it to his master, who valued himself so much
upon his strict observance of his law, might produce soma
qualm in him which might lengthen the agreement, for
they were still as much in hopes of a succour from Eu¬
rope as he was in fear of it; but to their great surprise,
Achmed had no sooner perused than he tore it all in
pieces, trampled it under his feet, and in a rage ordered
them to be gone. The grand-faster found no other
resource than to send them back to him the next day ;
when that minister, who knew his master’s impatience
to have the affair concluded, quickly agreed with them
upon the terms, which were in substance as follow:
1. That the churches should not he profaned. 2. That
the inhabitants should not be forced to part with their
children to be made janissaries. 3. That they should
enjoy the free exercise of their religion. 4. That they
should be free from taxes during five years. 5. That
those who had a mind to leave the island should have
free leave to do so. 6. That if the grand-master and
his knights had not a sufficient number of vessels to
transport themselves and their effects into Candia, the
sultan should supply that defect. 7- That they should
have twelve days allowed them, for the signing of the
articles, to send all their effects ©n board. 8. That they
should have the liberty of carrying away their relics,
chalices, and other sacred utensils belonging to the great
church of St John, together with all their ornaments
and other effects. 9* That they should likewise carry
with them all the artillery with which they were wont
to arm the galleys of the order, &c.
From this time the island of Rhodes has been subject
to the Turks ; and, like other countries subject to that
tyrannical yoke, has lost its former importance. The
air :s £ood, and the soil fertile, but ill cultivated. The
capital is surrounded with triple walls and double ditch¬
es, and is looked upon to be impregnable. It is inha¬
bited by Turks and Jews ; the Christians being obliged
to occupy the suburbs, as not being allowed to stay in
the town during the night. The town is situated in
E. l ong. 28. 25. N. Lat. 36. 54,
RHODIOLA, Rose-wort ; a genus of plants be¬
longing to the dioecia class; and in the natural method
ranking under the 13th order, Succuknloe. See Bo¬
tany' Index,
13 ] 11 H U
RHODIUM, a metal which is obtained from the Rhunfce-
ores of Platina. See Chemistry ; and under Plati-
na, Ores, Reduction of, & c.
Oil of Rhodium, an essential oil obta'ned from a
species of aspalathus.
REIODODENDRON, Dwarf Rose-bay; a genus
of plants belonging to the decandria class ; and in the
natural method ranking under the 18th order, Bicornes.
See Botany Index.
RHODORA, a genus of plants belonging to the de¬
can dria class. See Botany Index.
RHOEA. See Rhea, Ornithology Index.
RHOEADEJE (rheeat, Linnaeus’s name, after Di-
oscorides, for the red poppy), the name of the 27th or¬
der in Linnaeus’s fragments of a natural method, con¬
sisting of poppy and a few genera which resemble it
in habit and structure. See Botany Index.
RHOMBOIDES, in Geometry, a quadrilateral fi¬
gure whose opposite sides and angles are equal, but is
neither equilateral nor equiangular.
Rhomboides, in Anatomy, a thin, broad, and ob¬
liquely square fleshy muscle, situated between the basis
of the scapula and the spina dorsi; so called from its
figure. Its general use is to draw backward and up¬
ward the subspinal portion of the basis scapulae.
RHOMBUS, in Geometry, an oblique-angled paral¬
lelogram, or quadrilateral figure, whose sides are equal
and parallel, but the angles unequal, two of the oppo¬
site ones being obtuse and twro acute.
Rhomb Solid,.consists of two equal and right cones
joined together at their bases.
RHONE, one of the largest rivers in France, which,
rising among the Alps of Switzerland, passes through
the lakeof Geneva, visits that city, and then runs south-
west to Lyons ; where, joining the river Soane, it con¬
tinues its course due south, passing by Orange, Avig¬
non, and Arles, and falls into the Mediterranean a little
above Marseilles.
Rhone, is also the name of a department in the
south-east of France, of which Lyons is the chief town.
It lies along the west side of the river Rhone ; it is ra¬
ther mountainous, not very fertile in grain, but abound¬
ing in good pasturage, and producing excellent wines.
Its extent is about 1039 square English miles, and its
population in 1815 was 347,381 persons. The contribu¬
tions for the year 1802 amounted to 4,391,838 francs.
RHOPIUM, a genus of plants, belonging to the gy-
nsndria class ; and in the natural method ranking with
those that are doubtful. See Botany Index.
RHUBARB. See Rheum, Botany and Materia
Medica Index.
RHUMB, in Navigation, a vertical circle of any gi¬
ven place, or intersection of such a circle with the ho¬
rizon ; in which last sense rhumb is the same with a
point of the compass.
Rhumb Line is also used for the line which a ship de¬
scribes when sailing in the same collateral point of the
compass, or oblique to the meridians.
RHUNKENIUS, D vvm, an eminent classical scho¬
lar, wras bom at Stolpen m Prussian Pomerania, in the
year 1723. Of the early part of his studies little is
known, but it appears, that he was some time at Schlaff,
from which he removed to Konigsburg, where lie met
with the celebrated Kant, whose system has so much en¬
gaged the attention of Eu/ope. He afterwards went to
Gottingen
E II U [ 14 ] K I I U
Itlmake- Gottingen, to attend the learned Gesner, and to enlarge
mus• his knowledge of the Greek language. Seine time after
this period he formed an acquaintance w ith Ritter and
Berger while he resided at Witteburg, where he conti-
nuedabouttwm years; and his first public attempt, being
a thesis De Gaila Placidia Augusta, daughter of Theo¬
dosius, and the sister of Arcadius and Honorius, was in
this place. Rhunkenius was engaged to go to Leyden
by Ernesti, to complete his knowledge of ancient litera¬
ture. He gave up the study of divinity, for which he
was at first designed, and prevailed with his parents to
allow him to go to Leyden, where he arrived with re¬
commendations to many of the learned, and pursued his
studies with avidity and zeal, accompanying Alberti in
his visit to the Spa in the year 1750. Hemsterhuis
wished to attach him to Holland, urging him to perse¬
vere in the study of the law', as affording an additional
chance of employnv nt. This advice he thought proper
to follow, and published a translation of some works
of Theodorus, Stephanos, and some other celebrated
lawyers in the time of Justinian, which he found in
manuscript in the university of Leyden.
He went to Paris in the year 1755. where Capero-
roer, who was at that time keeper of the king’s li¬
brary, kindly received him; and he formed an acquaint¬
ance with Dr S. Musgrave and Mr T. Tyrwhit, who
were there for the purpose of examining the manu¬
scripts of Euripides. He had also formed the resolution
of going to Spain, but Hemsterhuis recalled him, as
he needed his assistance as lecturer in the Greek
tongue. In 1755, Rhunkenius took possession of his
office, and read an excellent discourse De Grcecia Ar-
tium et Doctrinarian Invenirice.
About this time he was useful to Ernesti, in his edi¬
tion of Callimachus; and in 17f>L he succeeded Ou-
dendorp as professor of history and of eloquence, de¬
livering an oration De Doctore Umbratico. About a
year after this event, Rhunkenius was offered the
chair of Gesner by the university of Gottincen, which
he declined accepting, but he recommended Heyne,
who was the successful candidate.
In 1764 he married an Italian lady, who, about 6 years
afterwards, lost both her speech and sight by a stroke
of apoplexy. She had two daughters, one of whom was
afterwards blind, and the wife of our author survived
her husband. The desire of Rhunkenius to do Ernesti a
favour, made him turn his attention to the Memorabilia
of Xenophon ; and he was led to examine with particu¬
lar attention, the treati.-e of Longinus on the sublime.
Having risen superior to his domestic misfortunes about
the year 1772, he pursued his new edition of Velleius
Paterculus, and he prepared a second edition of Epistolae
Criticas, and a collection of Scholia on Plato. In the
year 1766, he published a valuable little tract He Vita
et Script is Longini, in the form of a thesis, to which he
prefixed the name of one of his pupils. His Velleius
Paterculus appeared in 1779. and in 1780 Homer’s re¬
puted hymn to Ceres. In 1786, he published the first
part of Apuleius, which had been prepared by Ouden-
dorp, and a newT edition of Iris own Timaeus in 1789,
and at the same time he collected and published the
works of Mark-Anthony Murat, in 5 vols. 8vo.
Both the body and mmd of Rhunkenius were much
weakened in consequenceof theloss of friends, an attack
of the gout, and the misfortunes of the Batavian repub¬
lic ; but he was in some measure re’ieved by the satis- Itiumke-
faction he felt at the dedication of Homer by Wolf,
although he was not of that writer's opinion that the ,
works of Homer were written by different authors. He 'm
sunk into a kind of stupor on the J 4th of May, 1798,
which in two days put a period to his existence.
His knowledge and learning were unquestionably
great, and he was alloAved to be lively, cheerful, and
gay, even to an extreme Many posthumous honours
were conferred upon him, and a pension settled on his
unfortunate widow. When Whyttenbach took pos¬
session of Rhunkenius’s chair, he delivered a discourse
on the early age of Rhunkenius, which he proposed
as an example to the Batavian youth who made the
belles lettres their study.
RHUS, Sumach, a genus of plmts, belonging to
the pentandria class; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 43d order, Dumosa;. See Botany In¬
dex.
1. The coriaria, or elm-leaved sumach, grows natu¬
rally in Italy, Spain, Turkey, Syria, and Palestine.
The branches of this tree are used instead of oak-bark
for tanning of leather ; and it is said that the Turkey
leather is all tanned with this shrub. It has a ligneous
stalk, which divides at bottom into many irregular
branches, rising to the height of eight or ten feet; the
bark is hairy,of an herbaceousbrown colour; the leaves
are winged, composed of seven or eight pair of lobes,
terminated by an odd one, bl untly sawed on their ed es,
hairy on their under side, of a yellowish-green colour,
ami placed alternately on the branches; the flowers
grow in loose panicles on the end of the branches,
which are of a whitish herbaceous colour, each panicle
being composed ©f several spikes of flowers fitting close
to the footstalks. The leaves and seeds of this sort
are used in medicine, and are esteemed very restrin-
gent and styptic.
2. The typhinum,Virginian sumach, orvinegar plant,
grows naturally in almost every part ot North America.
This hath a woody stem, with many irregular branches,
w{aich are generally crooked and deformed. The young
branches are covered with a soft velvet-like down, re¬
sembling greatly that of a young stag’s horn, both in
colour and texture, from whence the common people
have given it the appellation of stag's horn ; the leaves
are winged, composed of six or seven pair of oblong
heart-shaped lobes, terminated by an odd one, ending
in acute points, hairy on their under side, as is also the
midrib. The flowers are produced in close tufts at the
end of the branches, and are succeeded by seeds, inclo¬
sed in purple woolly succulent covers; so that the
bunches are of a beautiful purple colour in autumn ;
and the leaves, before they fall m autumn, change to a
purplish colour at first, and before they fall to a feuille-
mort. This plant, originally a native of North Ame¬
rica, has been long cultivated in the north of Germany,
and is lately introduced into Russia. It has got the
name of the vinegar plant from the double reason of the
young germen of its fruit, when fermented, producing
either new or adding to the strength of old weak vine¬
gar, whilst its ripe berries afford an agreeable acid, Avhich
might supply the place when necessary of the citricacid.
The powerful astringency of this plant in all its parts
reconmaends it as useful in several of the ans. As for
example, the ripe berries boiled with alum make a good
E II U [
Ji'.us. Jye for hats. The plant in all its parts may be used
as a succedaneum for oak-bark in tanning, especially the
white glove leather. It will likewise answer to prepare
a dye for black, green, and yellow colours ; and with
martial vitriol it makes a good ink. The milky juice
that flows from incisionsmade in the trunk or branches,
makes when dried the basis of a varnish little inferior
to the Chinese. Bees are remarkably fond of its flowers;
and it alfords more honey than any of the flowering
shrubs, so that it may prove a useful branch of econo¬
my. where rearing these insects is an object. The na¬
tives of America use the dried leaves as tobacco.
3. The glabrum, with winged leaves, grows naturally
in many parts of North America; this is commonly
titled by the gardeners New England sumach. The
stem of this is stronger and rises higher than that of the
former ; the branches spread more horizontally ; they
are not quite so downy as those of the last, and the
down is of a brownish colour ; the leaves are composed
of many more pairs of lobes, which are smooth on
both sides; the flowers are disposed in loose panicles,
which are of an herbaceous colour.
4. TheCarolinianum, with sawed winged leaves, grows
naturally in Carolina ; the seeds of this were brought
from thence by the late Mr Catesby, who lias given a
figure of the plant in his Natural History of Carolina.
This is by the gardeners called the scarlet Carolina su¬
mach ; it rises commonly to the height of seven or eight
feet, dividing into many irregular branches, which are
smooth, of a purple colour, and pounced over with a
grayish powder, as are also the footstalks of the leaves.
The leaves are composed of seven or eight pair of lobes,
terminated by an odd one ; these are not always placed
exactly opposite on the midrib, but are sometimes al¬
ternate. The upper side of the lobes is of a dark
green, and their under hoary, but smooth. The flowers
are produced at the end of the branches in very close
panicles, which are large, and of a bright red colour.
5. The Canadense, with winged spear-shaped leaves,
gi-ows naturally in Canada, Maryland, and several other
parts of North America. This hath smooth branches
of a purple colour, covered with a gray pounce. The
leaves are composed of seven or eight pairs of lobes, ter¬
minated by an odd one; the lobes are spear-shaped,
sawed on their edges, of a lucid green on their upper
surface, but hoary on their under, and are smooth.
The flowers are produced at the end of the branches
in large panicles, which arecomposed of several smaller,
each standing upon separate footstalks; they are of a
deep red colour, and the whole panicle is covered with
a, gray pounce, as if it had been scattered over them.
6. The Copallinum, or narrow-leaved sumach, grows
naturally in most parts of North America, where it is
known by the title of beach sumach, probably from the
place where it grows. This is of humbler growth, than
either ot the former, seldom rising more than four or
five feet high in Britain, dividing into many spreading
branches, which are smooth, of a light brown colour,
closely garnished with winged leaves, composed of four
or five pair of narrow lobes, terminated by an odd one ;
they are of a light green on both sides, and in autumn
change purplish. The midrib, which sustains the lobes,
has on each side a winged or leafy border, which runs
ftom one pair of lobes to another, ending in joints at
5 ] II H IT
each pair, by which it is easily distinguished from the llhus.
other sorts. The flowers are produced in loose pan-
icles at the end of the branches, of a yellowish her¬
baceous colour.
These six sorts are hardy plants, and will thrive in
the open air here. The first and fourth sorts are not
quite so hardy as the others, so must have a better situ¬
ation, otherwise their branches will be injured by se¬
vere frost in the winter. They are easily propagated by
seeds, which if sown in autumn the plants wil come up
the following spring; but if they are sown in spring,
they will not come up till the next spring; they may
be either sown in pots, or the full ground If they
are sown in pots in autumn, the pots should be placed
under a common frame in winter, where the seeds may
be protected from hard frost; and in the spring, if the
pots are plunged into a very moderate hot-bed, the
plants will soon rise, and have thereby more time to get
strength before winter. When theplants come up, they
must be gradually hardened to bear the open air, into
which they should be removed as soon as the weather is
favourable, placing them where they may have the
morning sun ; in the summer, they must be kept clean
from weeds, and in dry weather watered. Toward au¬
tumn it will be proper to stint their growth by keeping
them dry, that the extremity of their shoots may har¬
den; for if they are replete with moisture, the early
frosts in autumn will pinch them, which will cause their
shoots to decay almost to the bottom if the plants are
not screened from them. If the pots are put under a
common frame in autumn, it willsecure theplants from
injury; for while they are young and the shoots soft,
they will be in danger of suffering, if the winter proves
very severe ; but in mild weather they must always en¬
joy the open air, therefore should never be covered but
in frost. The spring following, just berbre the plants
begin to shoot, they should be shaken out of the pots,
and carefully separated, so as not to tear the roots ; and
transplanted into a nursery, in rows three feet asunder,
and one foot distance in the rows. In this nursery
they may stand two years to get strength, and then
may be transplanted where they are to remain.
7. Besides these, Linnaeus has included in this genus
the toxicodendron or poison tree, under the name of -
rhus vernix or poison-ash. This grows naturally in Vir¬
ginia, Pennsylvania, New England,Carolina,and Japan,
rising with a strong woody stalk to the height of 20
feet and upwards ; though in this country it is seldom
seen above 12, by reason of the plants being extremely
tender. The bark is brown, inclining to gray; the
branches are garnished witli winged leaves composed
of three or four pair of lobes terminated by an odd
one. The lobes vary greatly in their shape, but for
the most part they are oval and spear-shaped. The
foot-stalks become of a bright purple towards the lat¬
ter part of summer, and in autumn all the leaves are of
a beautiful purple before they fall off.
All the species of sumach abound with an acrid milky
juice, which is reckoned poisonous; but this property
is most remarkable in thevernix. The most distinct ac¬
count of it is to be found in Professor Kalm’s Travels
in North America. “ An incision (says he) being
made into the tree, a whitish yellow juice, which has
a nauseous smell, comes out between the bark and the
wood
E H U r 16 ] E H Y
wood This ti^ee is not known for its good qualities,
but great y so for the effect of its poison ; which though
it is noxious to some people, yet does not in toe least
affect others. And therefore one person can handle
tiie tree as he pleases, cut it, peel off its bark, rub it or
the wood upon his hands, smell at it, spread the juice
upon the skin, and make more experiments, with no
inconvenience to himself: another person, on the con¬
trary, da es not meddle with the tree w hile its wood is
fresh ; nor can he venture to touch a hand which has
handled it, nor even to expose himself to the smoke of
a fire which b made with this wood, without soon feel¬
ing its bad effects; for the face, the hands, and fre¬
quently the w hole body, swells excessively, and is af¬
fected with a very acute pain. Sometimes bladders or
blisters arise in great plenty, and make the sick person
look as if he were infected by a leprosy. In some peo¬
ple the external thin skin, or cuticle, peels off in a few
days, as is the case when a person has scalded or burnt
any part of his body. Nay, the nature of some persons
will not even allow them to approach the place where
the tree grows, or to expose themselves to the wind
when it carries the effluvia or exhalations of this tree
with it, with, ut letting them feel the inconvenience of
the sw elling which I have just now described. Their
eyes are sometimes shut up for one, or two, or more
days together, by the swelling. I know two brothers,
one of w hom could without danger handle this tree in
what manner he pleased, whereas the other could not
come near it without swelling. A person sometimes
does not know that he has touched this poisonous plant,
or that he has been near it, before his face and hands
show it by their swelling. I have known old people
who were more afraid of this tree than of a viper; and
I was acquainted with a person who, merely by the
noxious exhalations of it, was swelled to such a degree,
that he was as stiff as a log of wood, and could only be
turned about in sheets.
“ I have tried experiments of every kind with the
poison-tree on myself. I have spread its juice upon my
hands, cut and broke its branches, peeled off its bark,
and rubbed my hands with it, smelt at it, carried pieces
of it in my bare hands, and repealed all this frequently
without feeling the baneful effects so commonly annex¬
ed to it ; but I, however, once experienced, that the
poison of the sumach was not entirely without effect
upon me. On a hot day in summer, as I was in some
degree of perspiration I cut a branch of the tree, and
Carried it in my hand for about half an hour together,
and smelt it now and then. I felt no effects trom it
in the evening. But next morning I awoke with a
violent itching of my eyelids and the parts thereabouts ;
and this was so painful, that I could hardly keep my
hands from it. It ceased after I had washed my eyes
for a while with very cold water. But my eyelids
were very stiff all that day. At night the itching re¬
turned ; and in the morning when I awoke, I felt it as
ill as the morning before, and I used the same remedy
against it. Flow ever, it continued almost for a whole
week together ; and my eyes were very red, and my
eyelids were with difficulty moved during all that time.
My pa n ceased entirely afterwards. About the same
time I had spread the juice of the tree very thick upon
jmy hand. Three days after, it occasioned blisters,
which soon went off without affecting me much. I have
not experience 1 any thing more of the effects of the
plant, nor had I any desire so to do. However 1 found
that it could not exert its power upon me when I was
not perspiring.
“ I have never heard that the poison of this sumach
has been mortal, but the pain ceases after a few. days
duration. The natives formerly made their flutes of
this tree, because it has a great deal of pith. Some
people assured me, that a person suffering from its noi¬
some exhalations, would easily recover by sprea ling a
mixture of the wood burnt to charcoal, and hog’s lard,
upon the swelling parts. Some asserted, that they had
really tried this remedy. In some places this tree is
rooted out, on purpose that its poison may not affect
the workmen.”
The natives are said to distinguish this tree in the dark
by its extreme coldness to the touch. The juice of some
kinds of sumach, when exposed to the heat of the sun,
becomes so thick and clammy, that it is used for bird¬
lime, and the inspissated juice of the poison-ash is Said
to be the fine varnish of Japan. A cataplasm made with
the fresh juice of the poison-ash, applied to the feet, is
said by Hughes, in his Natural History of Barbadoes,
to kill the vermin called by the West Indians ckigers.
Very good vinegar is made from an infusion of the
fruit of an American sumach, which from that reason
is called the vinegar-tree. The resin called gum copal
is from the rhus copallinum.
RHYME, Rhime, llyine or Rune, in Poetry, the
similar sound or cadence and termination of two words
which end two verses, &c. Or rhyme is a similitude of
sound between the last syllable or syllables of a verse,
succeeding either immediately or at a distance of two
or three lines. See Poetry, No. 177, &c.
RHYMER, Thomas the, a poet of Scotland, who
lived in the 13th century, and whose real name was
Sir Thomas Lermont. The life and writings of this
poet are involved in much obscurity ; but his fame,
both as a prophet and poet, has alwaysstood high among
his countrymen. Esslement was the chief family of his
name, from which, it is said, he derived his origin ;
but his family title appears to have been taken from
Ercildon, or as it has been corrupted in modem times,
from Earlstoun, in the county of Berwick, where the
remains ofhis house are still pointed out, and known by
the name of Rhymer’s Tower. The period of the union
with England was the crisis of his fame as an inspired
poet; for Robert Birrel informs us, that “ at this tyme
all the hail commons of Scotland that had red or under¬
standing, wer dayiie speiking and exponeing of Thomas
Rymer hes prophesie, and of other prophesies quhilk
wer prophesied in auld tymes.” It is obvious that he
distinguished himself by his poetical works, as we learn
from the testimony of early writers. He is commemo¬
rated by Robert of Ermine, who lived in the beginning
of the 14th century, as the author of Sir Tristrem,” a
romance lately published by Mr Walter Scott. On a
stone still preserved in the front wall of the church of
Earlstoun we meet with this inscription.
“ Auld Rhymer’s race lies in this place.”
RHYTHM, in Music, the variety in the movement
as to the quickness or slowness, length or shortness, of
the
R1! us.
Rhythm.
R I C [ ] H 1C
Khythm, the notes. Or it may be defined more generally, the land, and judge of the court of admiralty; all which
proportion which the parts of the motion have to each he held to the Revolution. He w; s employed by King
Ricaut. otker> W illiam as resident at the Hanse-towns in Lower Saxo-
RIAL, or Ryal, a Spanish coin. See Mosey ny, where he contmued for ten years; but being worn
Table. out with age and infirmities, he obtained leave to return
Rial, or Royal, is also the name of a piece of gold in 1700, and died the same year. Ricaut continued
anciently current among us for 10s. “ Knolles’s History of the Turks,” and f Hatina’s Lives
RIBAND, or Ribbon, in Heraldry, the eighth part of of the Popes •” besides w'hich, there are some other pro-
a bend. See Heualdry. ductions under his name.
RIBAND, or Ribbon, a narrow sort of silk, chief- RICCI V, a genus of plants of the natural order of
]y used for head-ornaments, badges of chivalry, &c. algae, and belonging to the cryptogamia class. See Bo-
See Weaving tany Index.
Ribbons of all sorts are prohibited from being im- RICE. See Oryza. “ Rice bras (says Mr Mars-
ported. den) w hilst in the husk, is in Indian caYied paddee, and
RIBANDS, (from ni and benrl), in naval architec- assumes a different name in each of its other various
ture, long narrow flexible pieces of timber, nailed up- states. We observe no distinction of this kind in Eu-
on the outside of the ribs, from the stem to the stern- rope, w^here our grain retains through all its stages, till
post, so as to envelope the ship lengthwise and appear it becomes flour, its original name of barley, wheat, or
on her side and bottom like the meridians on the sur- oats. The following, beside many others, are names
face of the globe. The ri!>ands being judiciously ar- applied to rice in its different stages of growth and pre¬
ranged with regard to their height and distance from paration ; paddee, original name of the seed : oossay,
each other, and forming regular sweeps about the ship’s grain of last season : bunnee, the plants before removed
body, will compose a kind of frame, whose interior sur- to the sawoors: bras, or bray, rice, the husk of the pad-
face will determine the curve of all the intermediate dee, being taken off: charroop, rice cleaned for boil¬
er filling-timbers which are stationed between the prin- ing : nassee, boiled rice : peerang, yellow rice : jambar,
cipal ones. As the figure of the ship’s bottom ap- a service of rice, &c.
proaches to that of a conoid, and the ribands have a Among people whose general objects of contempla-
limited breadth, it is apparent that they cannot be ap- tion are few, those which do of necessity engage their
plied to this convex surface without forming a double attention, are often more nicely discrimin ted than the
curve, which v ill be partly vertical and partly hori- same objects among more enlightened people, whose
rental ; so that the vertical curve will increase by ap- ideas ranging over the extensive field of art and science,
preaching the stem, and still more by draw ing near the disdain to fix long on obvious and common matters,
stern-post. It is also evident, that by deviating from the Paddee, in Sumatra and the Malay islands, isdistin-
middle line < f the ship's length, asthey approach the ex- guished into twm sorts ; Laddang or upland paddee,
tremebreadthatthemidship-frame, the ribands will also and Sarvoor or low-land, which are always kept sepal
form an horizontal curve. The lowest of these, which is rafe and will not grow reciprocally. Of these the
termined upon the stem and stern-post, at the height of former bears the higher price, being a whiter, heartier,
the rising line of the floor, andanswers to theupper part and better flavoured grain, and having the advantage
of the floor-timherupon the midship-frame, iscalled the in point of keeping. The latter is much more prolific
fioor riband. That which coincides with the wmg-tran- from the seed, and~liable to less risk in the culture, but
som, at the height of the lower deck upon the midship- is of a watery substance produces less increase in boil-
frame, is teimed the breadth-riband , all the test, which itig, and is subject to a swifter decay. It is, how'ever,
are placed between these two, are called intermediate- in more common use than the former. Beside this ge-
ribavds.^ See Ship Building. neral distinction, the paddee of each sort, particularly
RIBES, the Currant and Goosebf.rry-bush, a the Laddang, presents a variety of species, which, as
genus of plants belonging to the pentandria class, and far as my information extends, I shall enumerate, and
in the natural method ranking under the 36.h order, endeavour to describe. Thecommon kind of d>y ground
Pomaceae. See Botany Index ; and for the method of paddee : colour light brown : the size rather large, and
cultivating these fruits, see^ Gardening. very little crooked at the extremity. Paddee undatfong :
RICAUT, or Rycaut, Sir Paul, an eminent Eng- dry ground: short round grain: grows in whorls ^or
lish traveller, of the time of whose birth we find no ac- bunches round the stock. Paddee ebbass : dry ground :
count; but in 1661, he was appointed secretary to the large grain: common. Paddee galloo : dry ground :
earl of Winchebea, who was sent ambassador extraordi- light-coloured: scarce. Vaddee sennee : dry ground :
nary to the Ottoman Porte. During his continuance deep-coloured : small grain : scarce. Paddee ejoo : dry
in that station, he wrote, “ The present State of the ground: light coloured. Paddee kooning: dry ground :
Ottoman empire, in threebooks, containing the maxims deep yellow : fine rice: crooked and pointed. "Paddee
°f [.ie Turkish policy, their religion, and military' dis- coocoor ballum : dry ground : much esteemed : light co»
cipline. London, folio, 1670. He afterwards resided loured: small, and very much crooked, resembling a
11 years as consul at Smyrna, where, at the command dove’s nail, from wdience its name. Paddee pesan^ ;
of Char.es II. he composed <c The present State of the dry ground : outer coat light brown ; inner red : lonc-
Greek and Armenian Churches, anno Chrisli 1678.” er, smaller, and less crooked than the coocoor bailum.
On his return, Lord Clarendon being appointed lord- Paddee santong: the finest sort that is planted in wet
lieutenant of Ireland, made him his principal secretary ground : small, straight, and light-coloured. In general
tor Leinster and Connaught; King James II. knighted it may be observed that the larger grained rice is the
him; and made him one of the privy-council in Ire- least esteemed, and the smaller and whit er the most
Vol. XVIII. Part I. f C prized.
Risaut
II
Rice.
It I C C 18 ] It I C
prized. In the Lampoon country they make a distinc¬
tion of paddee crawang and paddee jerroo ; the former
of which is a month earlier in growth than the latter.”
The following is the Chinese method of cultivating
rice, as it is given by Sir George Staunton:
“ Much of the low grounds in the middle and south¬
ern provinces of the empire are appropriated to the
culture of that grain. It constitutes, in fact, the prin¬
cipal part of the food of all those inhabitants, who are
not so indigent as to be forced to subsist on other and
cheaper kinds of grain. A great proportion of the sur¬
face of the country is well adapted for the production
of rice, which from the time the seed is committed to
the soil till the plant approaches to maturity, requires
to be immersed in a sheet of water. Many and great
rivers run through the principal provinces of China, the
low grounds bordering on those rivers are annually in¬
undated, by which means is brought upon their surface
a rich mud or mucilage that fertilizes the soil, in the
same manner as Egypt receives its fecundative quality
from the overflowing of the Nile. The periodical rains
which fall near the sources of the Yellow and the Kiang
rivers, not very far distant from those of the Ganges
and the Burumpooter, among the mountains bounding
India to the north, and China to the west, often swell
those rivers to a prodigious height, though not a drop
of rain should have fallen on the plains through which
they afterwards flow.
“ After the mud has lain some days upon the plains
In China, preparations are made for planting them with
rice. For this purpose, a small piece of ground is in¬
closed by a bank of clay; the earth is ploughed up ;
and an upright harrow, with a row of wooden pins in
the lower end, is drawn lightly over it by a buffalo.
The grain, which had previously been steeped in dung
diluted with animal water, is then sown very thickly
upon it. A thin sheet of water is immediately brought
over it, either by channels leading to the spot from a
source above it, or when below it by means of a chain
pump, of which the use is as familiar as that of a hoe
to every Chinese husbandman. In a few days the
remainder of the ground intended for cultivation, if
stiff, is ploughed, the lumps broken by hoes, and the
surface levelled by the harrow. As soon as the shoots
have attained the height of six or seven inches, they are
plucked up by the roots, the tops of the blades cut off,
and each root is planted separately, sometimes in small
furrows turned with the plough, and sometimes in holes
made in rows by a drilling stick for that purpose. The
roots are about half a foot asunder. Water is brought
over them a second time. For the convenience of irri¬
gation, and to regulate its proportion, the rice fields
are subdivided by narrow ridges of clay, into small in¬
closures. Through a channel, in each ridge, the water
is conveyed at will to every subdivision of the field. As
the rice approaches to maturity, the water, by evano-
ration and absorption, disappears entirely ; and the
crop, when ripe, covers dry ground. The first crop or
harvest, in the southern provinces particularly, happens
towards the end of May or beginning of June. The
instrument for reaping is a small sickle, dentated like a
saw, and crooked. Neither carts nor cattle are used to
carry the sheaves off from the spot where they were
reaped ; but they are placed regularly in frames, two
of which, suspended at the extremities of a bamboo
pole, are carried across the shoulders of a man, to the Riec*
place intended for disengaging the grain from the stems II
which had supported it. This operation is performed, Richardson,
not only by a flail, as is customary in Europe, or by
cattle treading the corn in the manner of other Orien¬
talists, but sometimes also by striking it against a plank
set upon its edge, or beating it against the side of a
large tub scolloped for that purpose ; the back and sides
being much higher than the front, to prevent the grain
from being dispersed. After being winnowed, it is
carried to the granary.
“To remove the skin or husk of rice, a large strong
earthen vessel, or hollow stone, in form somewhat like
that which is used elsewhere for filtering water, is fixed
firmly in the ground ; and the grain, placed in it, is
struck with a conical stone fixed to the extremity of a
lever, and cleared sometimes indeed imperfectly, from
the husk. The stone is worked frequently by a person
treading upon the end of the lever. The same object
is attained also by passing the grain between two flat
stones of a circular form, the upper of which turns
round upon the other, but at such a distance from it as
not to break the intermediate grain. The operation is
performed on a large scale in mills turned by wrater ;
the axis of the wheel carrying several arms, which by
striking upon the ends of levers, raise them in the same
manner as is done by treading on them. Sometimes
twenty of these levers are worked at once. The straw
from which the grain has been disengaged is cut chief¬
ly into chaff, to serve as provender for the very few cat¬
tle employed in the Chinese husbandry,
“ The labour of the first crop being finished, the
ground is immediately prepared for the reception of
fresh seeds. The first operation undertaken is that of
pulling up the stubble, collecting it into small heaps,
which are burnt, and the ashes scattered upon the field.
The former processes are afterwards renewed. The
second crop is generally ripe late in October or early in
November. The grain is treated as before ; but the
stubble is no longer burnt. It is turned under with the
plough, and left to putrify in the earth. This, with
the slime brought upon the ground by inundation, are
the only manures usually employed in the culture of
rice.”
Rice is recommended as the best corrective of sprit
flour, of which there is a great quantity in Scotland
every year, and of course a great deal of unpleasant and
unwholesome bread. The writer of the paper alluded
to directs ten pounds of flour and one pound of ground
rice, with the usual quantity of yeast, to be placed for
about two hours before a fire, and then formed into
bread in the common way. This addition of rice, be¬
sides correcting the bad qualities of the damaged flour,
adds, he says, much to its nutriment: and he is undoubt¬
edly right; for the flour of rice, though very nutritious,
is so dry, that it is difficult to make bread of it by it¬
self.
RicE-Bird. See Oryzivora, ^ Ornithology
RicE-Bunting. See Emberiza, J Index.
RICHARD I. II. and III. kings of England. See
England.
RICHARDIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
hexandria class, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 47th order, Slellaloe. See Botany Index.
RICHx\RDSON, Samuel, a celebrated English
sentimental
R I C- [ 39 ] R I C
Richardson, sentimental novel-writer, born in 1688, was bred to son, in h's Introduction to the 97di number of tbe
the business of a printer, which he exercised all his life Rambler, which was wu itten by Mr Richardson, ob*
with eminence. Though he is said to have understood serves, that the reader was indebted for that day’s en-
no language but his own, yet he acquired great repu- tertainment to an author, “ from whom the age has fe¬
tation by his three epistolary novels, entitled Pamela, ceived greater favours, who has enlarged the knowledge
Clarissa, and Sir Charles Grandison j which show an of human nature, and taught the pas dons to move at
uncommon knowledge of human nature. His purpose the command of virtueand, in his life of Rowe,
being to promote virtue, his pictures of moral excel- he says, “ The character of Lothario seems to have
lence are by much too highly coloured ; and he has de- been expanded by Richardson into that of Lovelace ;
scribed his favourite characters such rather as we might but he has excelled his original in the moral effect of
wish them to be, than as they are to be found in rea- the fiction. Lothario, with gaiety which cannot be
lity. It is also objected by some, that his writings hated, and bravery which cannot be despised, retains
have not always the good effect intended : for that, in- too much of the spectator’s kindness. It was in the
stead of improving natural characters, they have fa- power of Richardson alone to teach us at once esteem
shioned many artificial ones ; and have taught delicate and detestation; to makevirtuous resentment overpower
and refined ladies and gentlemen to despise every one all the benevolence which wit, and elegance, and cou-
but their own self-exalted persons. Rut after all that rage, naturally excite; and to lose at last the hero in
can be urged of the ill effects of Mr Richardson’s no- the villain.”—Dr Young very pertinently observed,
vels on weak minds, eager to adopt characters they can that Mr Richardson, with the mere advantages of na-
only burlesque; a sensible reader will improve more ture, improved by a very moderate progress in educa-
by studying such models of perfection, than of those tion, struck out at once, and of his owrn accord, into a
nearer to the natural standard of human frailty, and new province of writing, in which he succeeded to ad-
where those frailties are artfully exaggerated so as to fix miration. And what is more remarkable, that he not
and misemploy the attention on them. A stroke of the only began, but finished the plan on which he set out,
palsy carried off Mr Richardson, after a few days ill- leaving no room for anyone after him to render it more
ness, upon the 4th of July 1761. He was a man of complete: and that not one of the various writers that
fine parts, and a lover of virtue; which, for aught we have ever since attempted to imitate him, have in any
have ever heard to the contrary, he showed in his life respect equalled, or at all approached near him. This
and conversation as well as in his writings. Besides kind of romance is peculiarly his own ; and “ I consider
the works above-mentioned, he is the author of an 2E- him (continues the doctor) as a truly great natural
sop’s Fables, a Tour through Britain, 4 vols. and a genius; as great and supereminent in his way as Shake-
volume of Familiar Letters upon business and other speare and Milton were in theirs.”
subjects. He is said from his childhood to have de- Richardson, Jowa/AaM, a celebrated painter of heads,
lighted in letter writing ; and therefore was the more was born about the year 1665, and against his inclina-
easily led to throw his romances into that form ; which, tion was placed by his father-in-law apprentice to a
if it enlivens the history in some respects, yet lengthens scrivener, with whom he lived six years; when obtain-
it with uninteresting prate, and formalities that mean ing his freedom by the death of his master, he follow-
nothing, and on that account is sometimes found a little ed the bent of his disposition, and at 20 years old be-
tedious and fatiguing. came the disciple of Riley; with whom he lived four
The most eminent writers of our own country, and years, whose niece he married, and of whose manner
even of foriegn parts, have paid their tribute to the he acquired enough to maintain a solid and lasting re¬
transcendent talents of Mr Richardson, whose works putation, even during the lives of Kneller and Dahl;
have been published in almost every language and coun- and to remain at the head of the profession when they
try of Europe. They have been greatly admired, not- went off the stage.
withstanding every dissimilitude of manners, or every There is strength, roundness, and boldness in his co¬
disadvantage ot translation. The celebrated M. Di- louring ; but his men want dignity, and his women
derot, speaking of the means employed to move the grace. The good sense of the nation is characterised
passions, in his Essay on Dramatic Poetry, mentions in his portraits. You see he lived in an age when nei-
Richardson as a perfect master of that art: “ How ther enthusiasm nor servility were predominant. Yet
striking (says he), how pathetic are his descriptions! with a pencil so firm, possessed of a numerous and ex-
His personages, though silent, are alive before me; and cellent collection of drawings, full of the theory, and
of those who speak, the actions are still more affecting profound in reflections on his art, he drew nothing well
than the words.”—The famous John-James Rousseau, below the head, and was void of imagination. His at-
speaking, in his letter to M. d’Alembert, of the novels titudes, draperies, and back-grounds, are totally insipid
ot Richardson, asserts, “ that nothing was ever written and unmeaning ; so ill did he apply to his own practice
equal to, or even approaching them, in any language.” the sagacious rules and hints he bestowed on others.
—Mr Aaron Hill calls his Pamela a “ delightful Though he wrote with fire and judgment, his paintings
nursery ot virtue."—Dr Warton speaks thus of Clemen- owed little to either. No man dived deeper into the
tina ; “ Of all representations of madness, that of Cle- inexhaustible stores of Raphael, or was more smitten
mentina, in the History of Sir Charles Grandison, is the with the native lustre of Vandyck. Yet though capa-
most deeply interesting. I know not whether even the ble of tasting the elevation of the one and the elegance
madness of Lear is wrought up, and expressed, by so of the other, he could never contrive to see with their
many little strokes ot nature and passion. It is abso- eyes, when he was to copy nature himself. One won-
lute pedantry to prefer and compare the madness of ders that he could comment their works so well, and
Orestes in Euripides to this of Clementina.”—Dr John- imitate them so little.
C 2 Fie
Richanhon,
Walpole's
nee doles
of Painting
in England.
11 I G [ 20 ] It I C
ftidiaidson. I^e quitted business himself some years before his
death ; but his temperance and virtue contributed to
protract his life to a great length in the full enjoyment
of his understanding-, and in the felicity of domestic
friendship. He had had a paralytic stroke that atfect-
ed his arm, yet never disabled him from his customary
■walks and exercise. He had been in St James’s Park,
and died suddenly at his.house in Queen’s-sqaare on his
return home, May 28. 174-5, when he had passed the
80th year of his age. Pie left a son and four daugh¬
ters, one of whom was married to his disciple Mr Hud¬
son, and another to Mr Grigson an attorney. The
taste and learning of the son, and the harmony in which
he lived with his father, are visible in the joint works
they composed. The father in 1719 published two
discourses : 1. An Essay on the whole Art of Criticism
as it relates to Painting ; 2. An Argument in behalf of
the Science of a Connoisseur; bound in one volume oc¬
tavo. In 1722 came forth An Account of some of
the statues, bas-reliefs, drawings, and pictures, in Italy,
&c. with Remarks by Mr Richardson, senior and juni¬
or. The son made the journey; and from his notes,
letters, and observations, they both at his return com¬
piled this valuable work. As the father was a formal
man, with a slow, but loud and sonorous voice, and, in
truth, with si me affectation in his manner; and as there
is much singularity in his style and expression, these pe¬
culiarities (for they were scarcely foibles) struck super¬
ficial readers, and between the laughers and the envious
the book was much ridiculed. Yet both this and the
former are full of matter, good sense, and instruction:
and the very quaintness of some expressions, and their
laboured novelty, show the difficulty the author had to
convey mere visible ideas through the medium of lan¬
guage. Those works remind one of Cibber’s inimi¬
table treatise on the stage : when an author writes on
his own profession, feels it profoundly, and is sensible
his readers do not, he is not only excusable, but meri¬
torious, for illuminating the subject by new metaphors
or bolder figures than ordinary. He is the coxcomb
that sneers, not he that instructs, in appropriated dic¬
tion.
If these authors were censured when conversant
within their own circle, it was not to be expected that
they would be treated with milder indulgence when
they ventured into a sister region. In 1734, they pub¬
lished a very thick octavo, containing explanatory notes
and remarks on Milton’s Paradise Lost, with the life
of the author, and a discourse on the poem. Again
were the good sense, the judicious criticisms, and the
sentiments that broke forth in this work, forgotten in
the singularities that distinguish it. The father having
said in apology for being little conversant in classic lite¬
rature, that he had looked into them through his son,
Hogarth, whom a quibble could furnish with wit, drew
the father peeping through the nether end of a tele¬
scope, with which his soon was perforated, at a Virgil
aloft on a shelf. Yet how forcibly Richardson enter¬
ed into the spirit of his author, appears from his com-
px-ehensive expression that Milton was an ancient, born
two thousand years after his time. Richardson, however,
was as incapable ot reaching the sublime or harmonious
in poetry, as he was in painting, though so capable of
illustrating both. Some specimens of verse that he has
given us here and there in his works, excite no curiosi¬
ty for more, though he inform* us in his Milton, that 1
if p unting was his wife, poetry had been his secret con¬
cubine It is remarkable, that another commentator of
Milton has made the same confession.
 Sunt el mihi carmina, me quoque dicunt
Valent pastores  
says Dr Benfty. Neither the doctor nor the painter
adds Sed non ego credulis Mis, though all their readers are
ready to supply it for both Besides his pictures and
commentaries, we have a few etchings by his hand, par¬
ticularly two or three of Milton, and his own head.
The sale of his collections of drawings, in February
1747, lasted 18 days, and produced about L.2()60, his
pictures about L.700. Hudson his son-in-law bought
many of his drawings.
RICHELET, Cesar Peter, a French writer, born
in 1631 at Chemin in Champagne. He was the friend
of Patru and Ablancourt; and like them applied him¬
self to the study of the French language with success.
He compiled a dictionary of that language, full of new
and useful remarks; but exceptionable, as containing
many satirical reflections and obscenities. The best
edition is that of Lyons, 3 vols. folio, 1728. He also
collected a small dictionary of rhymes, and composed
some other pieces in the grammatical and critical way.
He died in 1698.
RICHES, a word used always in the plural number,
means wealth, money, possession, or a splendid sump¬
tuous appearance. When used to express the fortune
of private persons, whether patrimonial or acquired, it
signifies opulence; a term which expresses not the enjoy¬
ment, but the possession, of numerous superfluities.—
The riches of a state or kingdom expresses the produce
of industry, of commerce, of different incorporated bo¬
dies, of the internal and external administration of the
principal members of which the society is composed, &c.
Our Saviour says, that it is more easy for a camel to
go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to
enter the kingdom of heaven ; and we find, in fact, that
riches frequently bring along with them a degree of in¬
attention, lukewarmness, and irreligion, such as suffici¬
ently confirms the divine assertion ; which is merely a
general truth, and which by no means asserts the abso¬
lute impossibility of being virtuous and rich at the same
time. For as the ancient philosophers wisely taught,
riches, considered in themselves, and abstractedly from
the bad purposes to which they may be applied, are not
necessarily incompatible with virtue and wisdom. They
are indeed absolutely indifferent; in good hands they
will be useful, and promote the cause of truth, virtue,
and humanity; and in bad hands they are the source of
much mischief; on the one hand they confer the power
of doing much good, and on the other they are equally
powerful m doing ill.
To men, however, whose principles of virtue are not
sufficiently founded, riches are unquestionably a danger¬
ous and seducing bait; and as the ancients rightly
taught, they are to the greatest number of men, in an
infinite variety of cii’cumstances, a powerful obstacle to
the practice of moral virtues, to the progress of truth,
and a weight which prevents them from rising to that
degree of knowledge and perfection of which human
nature is capable. They multiply without ceasing the
occasions of vice, by the facility which they give to sa¬
tisfy
ETC [2
tisfy a multitude of irregular passions, and to turn at
length tho-e who are attached to them from the road of
virtue, and from the desire of inquiring after truth.
It is this which Seneca means to express, when he
says, “ that riches in a vast number of cases have been
a great obstacle to philosophy; and that, to enjoy free¬
dom of mind necessary for study, a man must live in
poverty, or as if he were poor. Every man (adds he)
who wishes to live a pleasant, tranquil, and secure life,
must avoid, as much as possible, the deceitfulness of
riches, which are a bait with which we allow ourselves
to be taken as in a snare, without afterwards having
the power to extricate ourselves, being so much the
more unhappy, that we believe we possess them, while
on the contrary, they tyrannize over us.” Senec. Epist.
17. and Epist. 8.
"The wise man (says the same author in another
place) does not love riches to excess, but he would not
choose wholly to divest himself of them ; lie does not
receive them into his soul, but into his house; he is
careful of them, and employs them for the purpose of
opening a wide field for virtue, and of making it ap¬
pear in all its splendour. Who can doubt that a wise
man has not more occasions of displaying the elevation
and greatness of his mind when he is possessed of riches
than when he labours under indirjence, since, in the last
condition, he can exercise only one virtue, namely, re¬
signation ; whereas, riches give him an opportunity of
displaying, in their greatest lustre, the virtues of tem¬
perance, liberality, diligence, regularity, and magnifi¬
cence. There is no occasion, then, to prohibit philo¬
sophers from the use of wealth, or to condemn wisdom
to poverty. The philosopher may possess the greatest
riches, provided he has not employed force or shed
blood in acquiring them ; provided he has not gained
them by unjust or illegal means; in a word, provided
the use v/hich he makes of them be as pure hs the
source from which they were derived, and no person
(the envious excepted) regretting his possession; he will
not refuse the kindness of fortune, and will enjoy, with¬
out shame or pride, the wealth acquired by honest
means ; he will have more reason to glory, if, after ex¬
posing his riches to the view of the whole world, he
can desire any person to carry away the rev/ard of
treachery or the fruits of oppression. If, after these
words, his riches continue undiminished, this man is
truly great, and worthy to be rich.” Senec. de Vila
Beata, cap. 21, 22, & 23,
RICH LIEU, John Akmand du Plessis de, car¬
dinal of Richlieu and Fronsac, bishop of Lucon, &c.
was born at Paris in 1585. He was of excellent parts ;
and at the age of 22 had the address to obtain a dispen¬
sation to enjoy the bishopric of Lucon in 1607. Re¬
turning into France, he applied himself in a particular
manner to the function of preaching; and his reputa¬
tion this way procured him the office of almoner to the
queen Mary de Medicis. His abilities in the manage¬
ment of affairs advanced him to be secretary of state in
1616; and the king soon gave him the preference to all
his other secretaries. T he death of the marquis d’Ancre
having produced a revolution in state affairs, Richlieu
retired to Avignon ; where he employed himself in
composing books of controversy and piety. The king
having recalled him to court, he was made a cardinal
in 16*22 ; and, two years after, first minister of state,
1 ] E I C
and grand master of the navigation. In l()2f), the isle
of Rhee was preserved by his care, and Rochelle taken,
having stopped up the haven by that famous dyke which
he ordered to be made there. He accompanied the king
to the siege of Cazal, and contributed not a little to
the raising of it in 1629. He also obliged the Hugue¬
nots to the peace at Alets, which proved the ruin of
that party ; he took Pamerol, and succoured Cazal be¬
sieged by Spinola. In the mean time the nobles found
fault with his conduct, and persuaded the king to dis¬
card him. The cardinal, for his part, was unmoved
with it; and by his reasonings overthrew what was
thought to be determined against him ; so that, instead
of being disgraced, he from that moment became more
powerful than ever. He punished all his enemies in the
same manner as they would have had him suffer; and
the day which produced this event, so glorious to Car¬
dinal Richlieu, was called the day of dupes. This able
minister had fromthenceforwards an ascendancy over the
king’s mind ; and he now resolved to humble the exces¬
sive pride of the house of Austria. For that purpose
he concluded a treaty with Gustavus Adolphus king
of Sweden, for carrying the war into the heart of Ger¬
many. He also entered into a league with the duke of
Bavaria ; secured Lorrain ; raised a part of the princes
of the empire against the emperor; treated with the
Dutch to continue the war against Spain ; favoured the
Catalans and Portuguese till they shook off the Spanish
yoke; and, in short, took so many different measures,
that he accomplished his design; and after having car¬
ried on the war with success, was thinking of concluding
it by a peace, when he died at Paris on the 4th of De¬
cember 1642, aged 58. He was interred in the Sor-
bonne, where a magnificent mausoleum is erected to his
memoty. This great politician madethe arts and science s
flourish; formed the botanical garden at Paris, called the
king’s garden ; founded the French academy ; establish¬
ed the royal printing-house ; erected the palace after¬
wards called Le Palais Royal, which he presented to the
king ; and rebuilt the Sorbonne with a magnificence that
appears truly royal. Besides his books of controversy ami
piety, there gounderthenameofthis minister, A Journal,
in 2 vols. I2mo; and a Political Testament, in 12mo; all
treating of politics and state affa irs. Cardinal Mazarine
pursued Richlieu’s plan, and completed many of the
schemes which he had begu n, but left unfinished.
RICHMOND, a town ii\ North America, and capital
of the state of Virginia; it is delightfully situated on the
north side of James’s river at the falls. Vessels of 125
tons come up within a mile of the town, and the boat na¬
vigation is continued round the falls by two canals, and
to a great distance farther up the river. In 1817 this
town contained 13,000 inhabitants, nearly half of whom
were negroes. The capital, or building where the legis¬
lature meets, is oneof the handsomest structures in Ame-
merica. Many of the private houses also are elegant,
but rents are very high and provisions dear. The trc.de
of this place is considerable in tobacco and flour; of the
former the annual exports were estimated in 1817 at
25,000 hogsheads ; and of the latter at 200,000 barrels.
W. Long. 77. 40. N. Lat. 37. 28.
RICINUS, or Talma Chkisti, a genus of plants
belonging to the moncecia class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 38th order, Tricoccce. See Bo¬
tany and Materia Medica Index,
RICKETS,
BID [ 22 ] BID
Hickey RICKETS, in Medicine. Ses there, N° SIT-
RICOCHET, in Gunnery, is when guns, howit-
Hnheule. zcrg^ or mo, tars, are loaded with small charges, and
eievatej from 5 to 12 degrees, so as to fire over the
parapet, and the shot or shell rolls along the opposite
rampart: it is called ricochet-jiving, and the batteries
are likewise called ricochet-batteries. This method of
firing was first invented by M. Beiidor, and first used at
the siege of Ath in 1697* This mode of firing out of
mortars was first tried in 1723 at the military school at
Strasbourg, and with success. At the battle of Ros-
bach, in 1757, the king of Prussia had several 6-inch
mortars made with trunnions, and mounted on travel¬
ling-carriages, which fired obliquely on the enemy’s
lines, and amongst their horse, loaded with 8 ounces of
powder, and at an elevation of one degree 15 minutes,
which did great execution ; for the shells rolling alon<r
the lines, with burning fuses, made the stoutest of the
enemy not wait for their bursting.
RICOTIA, a genus of plants, belonging to the te-
tradynamia class; and in the natural method ranking
under the 39th older, Siliquosa;. See Botany Index.
RIDEAU, in Fortification, a small elevation of earth,
extending itself lengthwise on a plain; serving to cover
a camp or give an advantage in a post.
Ridkau is sometimes also used for a trench, the
earth of which is thrown up on its side, to serve as a pa¬
rapet for covering the men.
RIDGE, in Agriculture, a long piece of rising land
between two furrows. See Agriculture.
RIDOLING, or Ridgel, among farriers, &c. the
male of any beast that has been but half gelt.
RIDICULE, in matters of literature, is that species
of writing which excites contempt with laughter.
The ridiculous, however, differs from the risible, (see
Risible). A risible object produceth an emotion of
laughter merely : a ridiculous object is improper as well
as risible; and produceth a mixed emotion, which is
vented by a laugh of derision or scorn.
Burlesque, though a great engine of ridicule, is not
confined to that subject; for it is clearly distinguish¬
able into burlesque that excites laughter merely, and
burlesque that provokes derision or ridicule. A grave
subject in which there- is no impropriety, may be
brought down by a certain colouring so as to be risi¬
ble; which is the case of Virgil Traveslie, and also the
case of the Secchia It a pit a ; the authors laugh first, in
order to make their readers laugh. The Lutrin is a
cl’-'u'cls'i! burlesque poem of the other sort, laying hold of a low
and trifling incident, to expose the luxury, indolence,
and contentious spirit of a set of monks. Boileau, the
author, gives a ridiculous air to the subject, by dressing
it in the heroic style, and affecting to consider it as of
the utmost dignity and importance. In a composition
of this kind, no image professedly ludicrous ought to
find quarter, because such images destroy the contrast;
and accordingly the author shows always the grave face,
and never once betrays a smile.
Though the burlesque that aims at ridicule produces
its effects by elevating the style far above the subject,
yet it has limits beyond which the elevation ought not
to be carried : the poet, consulting the imagination of
his readers, ought to confine himself to such images as
are lively and readily apprehended: a strained eleva-
z tion, soaring above an ordinary reach of fancy, makes
not a pleasant impression : the reader, fatigued with Ribeale.
being always upon the stretch, is soon disgusted ; and,
if he persevere, becomes thoughtless and indifferent.—
F urther, a fiction gives no pleasure unless it be painted
in colours so lively as to produce some perception of
reality ; which never can be done effectually where the
images are formed with labour or difficulty. For these
reasons, we cannot avoid condemning the Balrachomyo-
machia, said to be the composition of Homer: it is be¬
yond the power of imagination to form a clear and
lively image of frogs and mice acting with the dignity
of the highest of our species ; nor can we form a con¬
ception of the reality of such an action, in any manner
so distinct as to interest our affections even in the slight¬
est degree.
The Rape of the Lock is of a character clearly distin¬
guishable from those now mentioned ; it is not properly
a burlesque performance, but what may rather be term¬
ed an heroi-comical poem: it treats a gay and familiar
subject with pleasantry, and with a moderate degree of
dignity: the author puts not on a mask like Boileau,
nor professes to make us laugh like Tassoni. The Rape
of the Lock is a genteel species of writing, less strained
than those mentioned; and is pleasant or ludicrous
without having ridicule for its chief aim ; giving way,
however, to ridicule, where it natifrally arises from a
particular character, such as that of Sir Plume. Addi¬
son’s Spectator *, upon the exercise of the plan, is ex- * No. 102.
tremely gay and ludicrous, resembling in its subject the
Rape of the Lock.
There remains to show, by examples, the manner of
treating subjects so as to give them a ridiculous appear¬
ance.
II ne dit jamais, je vous donne, mais, je vous prete le
bon jour. . Moliere.
Orleans. T know him to be valiant.
Constable. I was told that by one that knows him bet¬
ter than you.
Orleans. What’s he ?
Constable. Marry, he told me so himself; and he said,
he car’d not who knew it. Henry V. Shakespeare.
He never broke any man’s head but his own, and
that was against a post when he was drunk. Ibid.
Millamont. Sententious Mirabel! prithee don’t look
with that violent and inflexible wise face, like Solomon
at the dividing of the child in an old tapestry-hanging.
Way of the World.
A true critic, in the perusal of a book, is like a dog
at a feast, wdiose thoughts and stomach are wholly set
upon what the guests fling away, and consequently is
apt to snarl most when there are the fewest bones.
Tale of a Tub.
In the following instances, the ridicule arises from
absurd conceptions in the persons introduced.
Mascarille. Te souvient-il, vicomte, de cette demi¬
lune, que nous emportames sur les enemis au siege d’A-
fras ?
Jodelet. Que veux-tu dire avec ta demi-lune ! c’etoit
bien une lune toute entiere.
Moliere, les Precieuses Ridicules, sc. 11.
Slender. I came yonder at Eaton to marry Mrs Anne
Page ; and she’s a great lubberly boy.
Page.
KID [ 23 ]
Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong—
Siatider. What need you tell me that ? I think so
when I took a boy for a girl: if I had been married to
him, for all he was in woman’s apparel, I would not
have had him. Merry Wives of Windsor.
Valentine. Your blessing, Sir.
Sir Sampson. You’ve had it already, Sir; I think I
sent it you to-day in a bill for four thousand pounds ; a
great deal of money, brother Foresight.
Foresight. Ay, indeed, Sir Sampson, a great deal of
money for a young man ; I wonder what he can do
with it. Love for Love, act ii. sc. 7*
Millament. I nauseate walking ; ’tis a country diver¬
sion ; I lothe the country, and every thing that relates
to it.
Sir Wilfull. Indeed, hah ! look ye, look ye, you do !
nay, ’tis like you may here are choice of pastimes
here in town, as plays and the like; that must be con¬
fess’d, indeed.
Millament. Ah 1’etourdie ! I hate the town too.
Sir Wilfull. Dear heart, that’s much hah ! that
you should hate ’em both ! hah! ’tis like you may ;
there are some cannot relish the town, and others can’t
away with the country ’tis like you may be one of
these. Cousin. Way of the World, act iv. sc. 4.
Lord Froth. I assure you. Sir Paul, I laugh at no-
body’s jests but my own, or a lady’s : I assure you. Sir
Paul.
Brisk. How ? how, my Lord ? what, affront my wit ?
Let me perish, do I never say any thing worthy to be
laugh’d at ?
Lord Froth. O foy, don’t misapprehend me, I don’t
' say so, for I often smile at your conceptions. But there
is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality than to
laugh; ’tis such a vulgar expression of the passions!
every body can laugh. Then especially to laugh at the
jest of an inferior person, or when any body else of the
same quality does not laugh with one ; ridiculous ! To
be pleas’d with what pleases the crowd! Now, when I
laugh I always laugh alone.
Double Dealer, act i. sc. 4.
So sharp-sighted is pride in blemishes, and so willing
to be gratified, that it takes up with the very slightest
improprieties: such as a blunder by a foreigner in
speaking our language, especially if the blunder can
bear a sense that reflects on the speaker :
Quickly. The young man is an honest man.
Cains. What shall de honest man do in my closet?
dere is no honest man dat shall come in my closet.
Merry Wives of Windsor.
Love speeches are finely ridiculed in the following-
passage : 0
Quoth he, My faith as adamantine.
As chains of destiny. I’ll maintain ;
True as Apollo ever spoke.
Or oracle from heart of oak ;
A.nd if you’ll give my flame but vent,
Now in close hugger-mugger pent.
And shine upon me but benignly,
W ith that one and that other pigsney.
The sun and day shall sooner part
J han love, or you, shake off my heart j
RID
The sun, that shall no more dispense
His own, but your bright influence:
I’ll carve your name on barks of trees.
With true love notes and flourishes;
That shall infuse eternal spring.
And everlasting flourishing :
Drink eveiy letter on’t in stum.
And make it brisk champaigne become.
Where’er you tread, your foot shall set
The primrose and the violet;
All spices, perfumes, and sweet powders
Shall borrow from your breath their odours ;
Nature her charter shall renew
And take all lives of things from you;
The world depend upon your eye.
And, when you frown upon it, die.
Only our loves shall still survive.
New worlds and natures to outlive ;
And, like to herald moons, remain
All crescents, without change or wane.
Hudibras, part 2. canto 1.
Those who have a talent for ridicule, which is sel¬
dom united with a taste for delicate and refined beau¬
ties, are quick-sighted in improprieties ; and these they
eagerly grasp, in order to gratify their favourite propen¬
sity. Persons galled are provoked to maintain that ri¬
dicule is improper for grave subjects. Subjects really
grave are by no means fit for ridicule ; but then it is
urged against them, that, when called in question whe¬
ther a certain subject be really grave, ridicule is the
only means of determining the controversy. Hence a
celebrated question. Whether ridicule be or be not a
test of truth.
On one side, it is observed, that the objects of ridi¬
cule are falsehood, incongruity, impropriety, or turpi¬
tude of certain kinds : but as the object of every exci¬
ted passion must be examined by reason, before we can
determine whether it be proper or improper ; so ridi¬
cule must apparently at least, establish the truth of the
improprieties designed to excite the passion ofcontempt.
Hence it comes in to the aid of argument and reason,
when its impressions on the imagination are consistent
with the nature of things ; but when it strikes the fancy
and affections with fictitious images, it becomes the in¬
strument of deceit. But however ridicule may impress
the idea of apparent turpitude or falsehood in the ima¬
gination, yet still reason remains the supreme judge ;
and thus ridicule can never be the final test or touch¬
stone of truth and falsehood.
On the other side, it is contended that ridicule is not
a subject of reasoning, but of sense or taste : (see and
compare the articles Risible and Conguuity.) Stating
the question, then, in more accurate terms, Whether
the sense of ridicule be theproper test fordistinguishing
ridiculous objects from what are not so ? they proceed
thus : No person doubts that our sense of beauty is the
true test of what is beautiful; and our sense of gran¬
deur, of what is great or sublime. It is more doubtful
whether our sense of ridicule be the true test of what
is ridiculous ? It is not only the true test, but indeed
the only test; for this subject comes not, more than
beauty or grandeur, under the province of reason. If
any subject, by the influence of fashion or custom, have
acquired a degree of veneration to which naturally
Itidieule.
ft I D [ 24 ] RID
it is not entitlefl, what are the proper means for wiping
off the artificial colouring, and displaying the subject in
its true light ? A. man of true taste sees the subject
without the disgui e ; but if he hesitate, let him apply
the test of ridicule, which separates it from its artificial
connections, and exposes it naked with a1! its native im¬
proprieties.—But it is urged, that the gravest and most
serious matters may be set in a ridiculous light. Hard¬
ly so ; for where an object is neither risible nor impro¬
per, it lies not open in any quarter to an attack from
ridicule.
RIDING, in general, signifies the being carried along
on any vehicle.
Riding on horesback. See Horsemanship.
Riding, in Medicine. During this exercise all the
viscera are shaken, and pressed against each other ; at the
same time the pure air acts with a greater force on the
lungs. Weakly persons, or those who e stomachs are
infirm, should, however, be cautious of riding before
their meals are somewhat digested.
Riding, in naval affairs, is the state of a ship’s being
retained in a particular station, by means of one or more
-cables with their anchors, which are for this purpose
sunk into the bottom of the sea, &c. in order to prevent
the vessel from being driven at the mercy of the wind
or current.—A rope is said to ride, when one of the
turns by which it is wound about the caps tern or wind¬
lass lies over another, so as to interrupt the operation of
heaving.
Riding Athwart, the position of a ship which lies
across the direction of the wind and tide, when the for¬
mer is so strong as to prevent her from falling into the
current of the latter.
Riding between the Wind and Tide, the situation of
a vessel at anchor, when the wind and tide act upon her
in direct opposition, in such a manner as to destroy the
■effort of each other upon her hull: so that she is in a
manner balanced between their reciprocal force, and
rides without the least strain on her cables. When a
ship does not labour heavily, or feel a great strain when
anchored in an open road or bay, she is said torideeasy.
On the contrary, when she pitches violently into the
sea, so as to strain her cables, masts, or hull, it is cal¬
led riding hard, and the vessel is termed a bad roader.
A ship is rarely said to ride when she is fastened at
both the ends, as in a harbour or river; that situation
being comprehended in the article Mooring.
Riding, a district visited by an officer Yorkshire
is divided into three ridings, viz. the east, west, and
north ridings. In all indictments in that county, both
the town and riding must be expressed.
fthscrva. Riding, as connected with gardening, and susceptible
^Modern emkeH’shment. See Gardening.
Gardrnine; A riding, though in extent differing so widely from
}>. 227, Sic. a garden, yet agrees with it in many particulars: for,
l exclusive of that community of character which results
Decoration* from their being both improvements, and both destined
wr a riding. to p]easure^ a closer relation arises from the property
of a riding, to extend the idea of a seat, and appropriate
a whole country to the mansion; for which purpose it
must be distinguished from common roads, and the marks
of distinction must be borrowed from a garden. Those
which a farm or a park can supply are faint and few ;
but whenever circumstances belonging to a garden oc-
gur, they are immediately received as evidence of the
domain. The species of the Irees will often be deci¬
sive : plantations of firs, whether placed on the sides of
the way, or in clumps or woods in the view, denote the
neighbourhood of a seat: even limes and horse chesnuts
are not indifferent ;for they have always been frequent
in improvements, and rare in the ordinary scenes of cul¬
tivated nature. If the riding be carried through a wood,
the shrubs, which for their beauty or their fragrance
have been transplanted from the country into gardens,
such as the sweet-briar, the viburnum, the euonymus,
and the woodbine, should be encouraged in the under¬
wood ; and to these may be added several which are
still peculiar to shrubberies, but which might easily be
transferred to the wildest coverts, and would require
no further care.
Where the species are not, the disposition may be
particular, and any appearance of design is a mark of
improvement. A few trees standing cut from a hedge¬
row, raise it to an elegance above common rusticity :
and still more may be done by clumps in a field; they
give it the air of a park. A close lane may be deco¬
rated with plantations in all the little vacant spaces :
and even the groups originally on the spot (whether it
be a wood, a field or a lane), if properly selected, and
those only left which are elegant, will have an effect:
though every beauty of this kind may be found in na¬
ture, yet many of them are seldom seen together, and
never unmixed. The number and the choice are symp¬
toms of design.
Another symptom is variety. If the appendages of
the riding be different in different fields, if in a lane, or
a wood, s me distinguishing circumstance be provided
for every bend : or when, carru d over an open expo¬
sure, it winds to several points of view; if this be the
conduct throughout, the intention is evident, to amuse
the length of the way : variety of ground is also a cha¬
racteristic of a riding, when it seems to have proceed¬
ed from choice; and pleasure being the pursuit, the
changes of the scene both compensate and account for
the circuity.
But a part undistinguished from a common road, suc¬
ceeding to others more adorned, will by the contrast
alone be sometimes agreeable; and there are beautie*
frequent m the high-way, and almost peculiar to it,
which may be very acceptable in a riding : a green lane
is always delightfula passage winding between thick¬
ets of brambles and briars, sometimes with, and some¬
times without a little spring-wood rising amongst them,
or a cut in a continued sweep through the furze of a
dow'n or the fern of a heath, is generally pleasant. Nor
will the character be absolutely lost in the interruption,
it will soon be resumed, and never forgotten ; when it
has been once strongly impressed, very slight means
will preserve the idea.
Simplicity may prevail the whole length of the way
when the way is all naturally pleasant, but especially
if it be a communication between several spots, which
in character are raised above the rest of the country :
A fine open grove is unusual, except in a park or a
garden ; it has an elegance in the disposition which
cannot be attributed to accident, and it seems to re¬
quire a degree of preservation beyond the care of mere
husbandry. A neat railing on the edge of a steep
which commands a prospect, alone distinguishes that
from other points of view. A building is still more
strongly
KID
[ ^ ]
R I D
Hiding.
2
Of a vil¬
lage.
strongly characteiistic: it may be only ornamental, or
^ it may be accommodated to the reception of company;
for though a place to alight at interrupts the range
of a riding, yet, as the object of an airing, it may
often be acceptable. A small spot which may be kept
by the labour of one man, inclosed from the fields,
and converted into a shrubbery or any other scene of a
garden, will sometimes be a pleasant end to a short
excursion from home: nothing so effectually extends
the idea of a seat to a distance ; and not being constant¬
ly visited, it will always retain the charms of novelty
and variety.
When a riding is carried along a high road, a kind
of property may in appearance be claimed even there,
by planting on both sides trees equidistant from each
other, to give it the air of an approach; regularity
intimates the neighbourhood of a mansion. A vdlage
therefore seems to be within the domain, if any of the
inlets to it are avenues : other formal plantations about
it, and still more trivial circumstances, when they are
evidently ornamental, sometimes produce and always
corroborate such an effect; but even without raising
this idea, if the village be remarkable for its beauty, or
only for its singularity, a passage through it may be an
agreeable incident in a riding.
The-same ground which in the fields no more than
rough, often seems to be romantic when it is the site of
a village ; the buildings and other circumstances mark
and aggravate the irregularity. To strengthen this ap¬
pearance, one cottage may be placed on the edge of a
steep, and some winding steps of unhewn stone lead up
to the door ; another in a hollow, with all its little ap¬
purtenances hanging above it. The position of a few
trees will sometimes answer the same purpose ; a foot¬
bridge here and there for a communication between the
sides of a narrow dip, will add to the character ; and if
there be any rills, they may be conducted so as greatly
to improve it.
A village which has not these advantages of ground,
may however be beautiful; it is distinguished by its
elegance, when the larger intervals between the houses
are filled with open groves, and little clumps are in¬
troduced upon other occasions. The church often is,
it generally may be, made a picturesque object. Even
the cottages may be neat and sometimes grouped
with thickets. If the place be watered by a stream,
the crossings may be in a variety of pleasing designs;
and it a spring rise, or only a well for common use be
sunk by the side of the way, a little covering over it
may be contrived which shall at the same time be simple
and pretty.
There are few villages which may not easily be ren¬
dered agreeable. A small alteration in a house will
sometimes occasion a great difference in the appearance.
^ help of a few trifling plantations, the objects
which have a good effect may be shown to advantage,
those which have not may be concealed, and such as are
similar be disguised. And any form which ofiends the
eye, whether of ground, of trees, or of buildings, may
some line* be broken by the slightest circumstances, by
an advanced paling, or only bv a bench. Variety and
beauty, m such a subject, are rather the effects of atten¬
tion than txpence.
but if the passage through the village cannot be
pleasant; ,f the buildings are all alike, or stand in un-
vol. XVIII. Pert I.
meaning row’s and similar situations ; if the p’ace fur- Ihdir'f*
nishes no opportunities to contrast the forms of dw’ell-
ings w’ith those of out-houses ; to introduce trees and 3
thickets; to interpose fields and meadows; to mix farms
with cottages; and to place the several objects in dif-
ferent positions : yet on the outside even of such a vi1- for objects'
lage there is certainly room for wood ; and by that in a riding,
alone the whole may be grouped into a mass, which
shall be agreeable when skirted by a riding; and still
more so w hen seen from a distance. The separate farms
in the fields, also, by planting some trees about them,
or perhaps only by managing those already on the spot,
may be made very interesting objects ; or if a new one
is to be built, beauty may be consulted in the form of
the house, and the disposition of its appurtenances.
Sometimes a character not their own, as the sembbrnce
of a castle or an abbey, may be given to them; they
W’ill thereby acquire a degree of consideration, which
they cannot otherwise be entitled to: and objects to
improve the views are so important to a riding, that
buildings must sometimes be erected for that purpose
only: but they should be such as by an actual effect
adorn or dignify the scene; not those little slight de¬
ceptions which are too well known to succeed, and
have no merit if they fail: for though a fallacy some¬
times contributes to support a character, or suggests
ideas to the imagination, yet in itself it may be no im¬
provement of a scene ; and a bit of turret, the tip of a
spire, and the other ordinary subjects of these frivo¬
lous attempts, are so insignificant as objects, that whe¬
ther they are real or fictitious is almost a matter of in¬
difference. ^
I he same means by which the prospects from a of a sanlea
riding are improved, may be applied to those from similar in
a garden ; though they are not essential to its charac- character
ter, they are important to its beauty; and wherevert0 a ncUll2*
they abound, the extent only of the range which com¬
mands them, determines whether they shall be seeb
from a riding or a garden. If they belong to the lat¬
ter, that assumes in some degree the predominant pro¬
perties of the former, and the two characters approach
very near to each ether : but still each has its peculiari¬
ties. Progress is a prevailing idea in a riding ; and the
pleasantness oftheway is, therefore, a principal conside¬
ration ; but particular spots are more attended to in a
garden; and to them the cpmmunications ought to be
subordinate; their direction must be generally accom¬
modated, their beauties sometimes sacrificed, to the
situation and the character of the scenes they lead to;
an advantageous approach to these must be preferred to
an agreeable line for the walk ; and the circumstances
which might otherwise become it are misplaced, if they
anticipate the openings : it shoukt sometimes be con¬
trasted to them ; be retired and dark if they are splen¬
did or gay, and simple if they are richly adorned At
other times it may burst unexpectedly cut upon them ;
not on account of the surprise, which can have its effect
only once; but the impressions are stronger by being
sudden ; and the contrast is enforced by the quickness
of the transition.
In a riding, the scenes are only the amusements of
the way, through which it proceeds without stopping :
in a garden they are principal; and the subordination
of the walk raises their importance. Every art, there¬
fore, should be exerted to make them seem parts of the
t D pla?©.
BID [ 28 ] BID
5
Description
@f PeKfidd.
place. Distant prospects cannot be so; and the alie- mon to rocks ; but no ruin of any single structure was Ridina:.
nation does not offend us; we are familiarized to it; ever equal to this enormous pile; it seems to be the ''—•■'Y''’"
the extent forbids every thought of a closer connection ; remains opacity; and other smaller heap- scattered
and if a continuation be preserved between them and about it appear to be fainter traces of the former ex-
the points which command them, we are satisfied. But tent, and strengthen the similitude. It stretches along
home-views suggest other ideas ; they appear to be v/ith- the brow which terminates the forest of Dean; the
in our reach: they are not only beautiful in prospect, face of it is composed of immense blocks of stone, but
and we can perceive that the spots are delightful; but not rugged: the top is bare anti uneven, but not craggy ;
we wish to examine, to inhabit, and to enjoy them, and from the foot of it, a declivity, covered with thick-
Every apparent impediment to that gratification is a et, slopes gently towards the Wye, but in one part is
disappointment; and when the scenes begin beyond the abruptly broken off by a ledge of rocks, of a different
opening, the consequence of the place is lowered ; no- hue, and in a different direction. From the grotto it
thing within it engages our notice : it is an exhibi- seems to rise immediately over a thick wood, Avhich ex-
tion^only of beauties, the property of which does not tends down a hill below the point of view, across the
belong to it; and that idea, though indifferent in a ri- valley through which the Wye flows, and up the op-
ding, which is but a passage, is very disadvantageous posite banks, hides the river, and continues without in¬
to such a residence as a garden. To obviate such an terruption to the bottom of the rock : from another seat
idea, the points of view should he made important; it is seen by itself without even its base; it faces another,
the objects within be appendages to those without; the with all its appendages about it; and sometimes the ,
separations be removed or concealed ; and large por- sight of it is partially intercepted by trees, beyond which,
tions of the garden be annexed to the spots which are at a distance, its long line continues on through all the
contiguous to it. The ideal boundary of the place openings between them.
is then carried beyond the scenes which are thus ap- Another capital object is the castle of Chepstowe,
propriated to it; and the wide circuit in which they lie, a noble ruin of great extent; advanced to the very edge
and the different positions in which they may be shown, of a perpendicular rock, and so immediately rivetted in-
afford a greater variety than can generally be found in to it, that from the top of the battlements down to
any garden, the scenery of which is confined to the in- the river seems but one precipice : the same ivy which
closure. overspreads the face of the one, twines and clusters
Persfield (a) is not a large place; the park con- among the fragments of the other; many towers, much
tains about SOO acres; and the house stands in the midst of the walls, and large remains of the chapel, are stand-
of it. On the side of the approach, the inequalities of ing. Close to it is a most romantic wooden bridge,
the ground are gentle, and the plantations pretty ; but very ancient, very grotesque, at an extraordinary height
nothing there is great. On the other side, a beautiful above the river, and seeming to abut against the ruins
lawm falls precipitately every wray into a deep vale which at one end, and some rocky hills at the other. The
shelves down the middle; the declivities are diversified castle is so near to the alcove at Persfield, that little
with clumps and with groves; and a number of large circumstances in it may be discerned ; from other spots
trees straggle along the bottom. This lawn is encom- more distant even from the lawn, and from a shrubbery
passed with wood; and through the wood are walks, on the side of the lawn, it is distinctly visible, and al-
vvhich open beyoncl it upon those romantic scenes which ways beautiful, whether it is seen alone, or with the
surround the park, and which are the glory of Pers- bridge, with the town, with more or with less of the
field. The Wye runs immediately below the wood r rich meadows which lie along the banks of the Wye,
the river is of a dirty colour; but the shape of its to its junction three miles off with the Severn. Along
course is very various, winding first in the form of a sweep of that river also, its red cliffs, and the fine rising
horse-shoe, then proceeding in a large sweep to thetown country in the counties of Somerset and Gloucester, ge-
of Chepstowe, and afterwards to the Severn. The banks nerally terminate the prospect.
are high hills : in different places steep, bulging out, or Most of the hills about Persfield are full of rocks ;
hollow on the sides ; rounded, flattened, or irregular at some are intermixed with hanging woods, and either
top; and covered with wood, or broken by rocks, advance a little before them, or retire v/ithin them, and
They are sometimes seen in front; sometimes in per- are backed, or overhung, or separated by trees. In
spective; falling back for the passage, or closing behind the walk to the cave, a long succession of them is fre-
ihe bend 6f the river; appearing to meet, rising above quently seen in perspective, all of a dark colour, and
or shooting out beyond one another. The wood which with wood in the intervals between them. In other
incloses the lawn crowns an extensive range of these parts the rocks are more wild and uncouth; and some-
hills, which overlook all those on the opposite shore, times they stand on the tops of the highest hills; at
■with the country which appears above or between them; other times down as low as the river ; they are home-
and winding themselves as the river winds, their sides, objects in one spot, and appear only in the back-ground
all rich and beautiful, are alternately exhibited; and the of another.
point of view, in one spot becomes an object to the next. The woods concur with the rocks to render the
In many places the principal feature is a continued scenes of Persfield romantic; the place everywhere
rock, in length a quarter of a mile, perpendicular, high, abounds with them ; they cover the tops of the hills ;
and placed upon a height. To resemble ruins is com- they hang on the steepsor they fill the depths of the
valleys.
(a).The seat of Mr Morris, near Chepstowe, in Monmouthshire,
RID [ 27 ] HI D
Hiding, valleys. In one p’ace they front, in another they rise
Ridley, above, in another they sink below the point of view ;
they are seen sometimes retiring* beyond each other, and
darkening as they recede; and sometimes an opening
between two is closed by a third at a distance beyond
them. A point, called the Lover’s Jeap, commands a
continued surface of the thickest foliage, which over¬
spreads a vast hollow immediately underneath. Below
the Chinese seat the course of the Wye is in the shape of
a horse-shoe: it is on one side inclosed by a semicircular
hanging wood ;• the direct steeps of a table-hill shut it
in on the other; and the great rock fills the interval
between them: in the midst of this rude scene lies the
peninsula formed by the river, a mile at the least in
length, and in the highest state of cu’tivation : near the
isthmus the ground rises considerably, and thence de¬
scends in a broken surface, till it flattens to the water's
edge at the other extremity. The whole is divided in¬
to corn fields and pastures; they are separated by hedge¬
rows, coppices, and thickets ; open clumps and single
trees stand out in the meadows ; and houses and other
buildings, which belong to the farms, are scattered
amongst them : nature so cultivated, surrounded by
nature so wild, compose a most lovely landscape toge¬
ther.
The communications between these several points are
generally by close walks ; but the covert ends near the
Chinese seat; and a path is afterwards conducted through
the upper park to a rustic temple, which overlooks on
one side some of the romantic views which have been
described, and on the other the cultivated lulls and val¬
leys of Monmouthshire. To the rude and magnificent
scenes of nature now succeeds a pleasant, fertile, and
beautiiul country, divided into inclosures, not covered
-with woods, nor broken by rocks and precipices, but
only varied by easy swells and gentle declivities. Yet
the pr. spe ct is not tame ; the hills in it are high ; and
it is bounded by a vast sweep of the Severn, which is
here visible for many miles together, and receives in
its course the Wye and the Avon.
From the temple a road leads to the WindclifF, an
eminence much above the rest, and commanding the
whole in one view. The Wye runs at the foot of the
hill; the peninsula lies just below ; the deep bosom of
the semicircular hanging wood is full in sight; over
part of it the great rock appears; all its base, all its
accompaniments, are seen ; the country immediately
beyond it is full of lovely hillocks; and the higher
grounds in the counties ol Somerset and Gloucester rise
in the horizon. The Severn seems to be, as it reallv is,
above Chepstowe, three or four miles wide; below the
town it spreads almost to a sea; the county of Mon¬
mouth is there the hither shore, and between its beau¬
tiful hills appear at a great distance the mountains of
Brecknock a ad Glamorganshire. In extent, in varie¬
ty, and grandeur, few prospects are equal to this. It
comprehends all the noble scenes of Persfield, encom¬
passed by some of the finest country in Britain. See
Gardening.
RIDLEY, Nicholas, bishop of London, and a
martyi to ti e Reformation, was descended of an ancient
family, and born in the beginning of the 16'th century,
at Wdnio .tswick in Northumberland. From the gram¬
mar-school at Newcastle upon Tyne, he was sent to
Pembroke-hali in Cambridge, in the year 1518, where
he was supported by his uncle Dr Robert Ridley, ill. , Ritlle?*
low of Queen’s college. In 1522 he took his first de-
gree in arts; two years after, was elected fellow ; and,
in 1525, he commenced master of arts. In 1527, ha¬
ving taken orders, he was sent by his uncle, for further
improvement, to the Sarbonne at Paris ; from theme
he went to Louvain, and continued abroad till the year
1529. On his return to Cambridge, he was chosen un¬
der-treasurer of the university : and, in 1533, was elect¬
ed senior proctor. He afterwards proceeded bachelor
of divinity, and was chosen chaplain of the university,
orator, and magister glomerice. At this time he was
much admired as a preacher and disputant. He lost his
kind uncle in 1536’; but was soon after patronized by
Dr Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, who made him
his domestic chaplain, and presented him to the vicarage
of Herne in East Kent; where, we are told, he preach¬
ed the doctrine of the Reformation. In 1540, having
commenced doctor of divinity, he was made king’s chap¬
lain ; and in the same year, was elected master of his
college in Cambridge. Soon after, Ridley was collated
to a prebend in the church of Canterbury ; and it was
not long before he was accused in the bishop’s court, at
the instigation of Bishop Gardiner, of preaching agaimt
the doctrine of the Six Articles. The matter being refer¬
red to Cranmer, Ridley was acquitted. In 1545, he was
made a prebendary of Westminster abbey ; in 1547 was
presented, by the fellows of Pembroke-hall, to the liv¬
ing of Soham, to the diocese of Norwich ; and the same
year was consecrated bishop of Rochester. In 1550 he
was translated to the see of London ; in which year he
was one of the commissioners for examining Bishop Gai -
diner, and concurred in his deprivation. In the year
1552, our prelate returning from Cambridge, unfortu¬
nately for himself, paid a visit to the Princess, afterwards
Queen Mary ; to whom, prompted by his zeal for re¬
formation, heexpressed himself with too much freedom:
for she was scarcely seated on the throne when Ridley
was doomed a victim to her revenge With Crannler
and Latimer he was burnt alive at Oxford, on the 16th
of October 1555. Lie wrote, 1. A treatise concerning
images in churches. 2. Brief declaration of the Lord’s
Supper. S. Certain godly and comfortable conferences
between Bishop Ridley and Mr Hugh Latimer, during
their imprisonment. 4. A comparison between the com¬
fortable doctrine of the Gospel and the traditions of the
Popish religion ; and other works.
Ridley, Dr Gloster, was of the same family with
the preceding. He was born at sea, in the year 1702,
on board the Gloucester East Indiaman, from which
circumstance he obtained his Christian name. He was
educated at Winechester school, and afterwards obtain¬
ed a fellowship at new College, Oxford He paid his
court to the muses at an early period, and laid the
foundation of those solid and elegant acquisitions which
after wards distinguished him so eminently as a divine,
historian, and poet. During a vacation in 1728, he
joined with four friends in composing a tragedy called
“ The Fruitless Redress,” each undertaking an act
agreeably to a plan which they had previously concert¬
ed. It was offered to Mr Wilkes, but never acted, and
is still in manuscript. Dr Ridley in his youth was ex¬
tremely attached to theatrical performances. The Re¬
dress, and another called Jugurtha, were exhibited at
Midhurst io Sussex, and the actors were chiefly the gen-
D 2 tlemen
RIE [23] RIE
R-.illef, tlemen who a'sisted him in tlieir composition. We are
]. aizi. informed that he played Mark Anthony, Jaffier, Ho-*
ll_ ratio, and Moneses, with x'ery great applause, which
may be readily inferred from his graceful manner of
speaking in the pulpit.
During a great part of his life he had only the small
college living of Westow in Norfolk, and that of Poplar
in Middlesex, which was the place of his residence.
His college added to these some years after, the dona¬
tive of Remford in Essex, which left him little or no
time for what he considered as the necessary studies of
his profession. Yet in this situation he remained in the
possession of, and satisfied with domestic felicity, and
enjoyed the intimate friendship of some who were
equally distinguished for worth and learning.
The eight sermons which he preached at Lady Moyer’s
Lecture in 1740 and 1741, were given to the public in
1742. In the year 1756 he Was invited to go to Ire¬
land as first chaplain to the duke of Bedford, but de¬
clined to accept of it. In the year 1763 he published
the life of Bishop Ridley, in 4to, by subscription, from
the profits of which he was enabled to purchase L.800
in the public funds. In the concluding part of his life
lie lost both his sons, who were young men of consi¬
derable abilities. The elder, called James, was author
of Tales of the Genii, and some other literary perform¬
ances ; and his brother Thomas was sent as a writer to
Madras by the East India Company, where he suddenly
died of the smallpox. In the year 1765, Dr Ridley
published his review of Philips’s Life of Cardinal Pole;
and as a reward for his labours in this controversy, he
was presented, in 1768, by Archbishop Seeker with a
rich prebend in the cathedral church of Salisbury;
the only reward he received from the great during a
long and useful life. He was at last worn out with in¬
firmities, and died in 1774, leaving behind him a wife
and four daughters. By his elegant epitaph, written by
Bishop Lowth, we are informed that the university of
Oxford, for his merits, conferred upon him the degree
of D. D. the highest literary honour which that learn¬
ed body has to bestow.
RIENZI, Nicholas Gabrini de, one of the most
singular characters of the 14th century, was born at
Rome, but it is not certainly known in what year. His
father, as some affirm, was a vintner, but a miller accord¬
ing to others, and his mother was a laundress, yet they
found means to give their son a liberal education; and
to a fine natural understanding he added uncommon ap¬
plication. He was well acquainted with the laws and
customs-of nations ; and had a vast memory, which en¬
abled him to retain much of Cicero, Valerius Maximus,
Livy, the two Senecas, and in particular Caesar’s Com¬
mentaries, which he constantly perused. This extensive
erudition proved the foundation of his future rise. He
acquired the reputation of a great antiquarian, from the
time he spent among the inscriptions which are to be
found at Rome, and these inspired him with exalted
ideas of the liberty, the grandeur, and justice of the old
Romans. He even persuaded himself, and found means
to persuade others, that he should one daybethe restorer
the Roman republic. The credulity of the people
was powerfully encouraged and strengthened by his ad¬
vantageous stature, by the attractions of his countenance,
and by that air of consequence which he could assume
at pleasure*. The joint energy of all these prepossessing
qualities made a deep and almost indelible impression Rierl?-1.
on the minds of bis hearers.
Nor was his fame merely confined to the vulgar, for
he even ingratiated himself into the good opinion of
many distinguished personages belonging to the admi¬
nistration. The Romans chose him one of their deputies
to Pope Clement VI. then at Avignon, the purport of
whose mission was to persuade his holiness, that his ab¬
sence from the capital was inimical to its interest. His
commanding eloquence and gay conversation charmed
the court of Avignon, from which Rienza was encou¬
raged to tell the Pope, that the great men of Rome were
public thieves, robbers, adulterers, and profligates, by
whose example the most horrid crimes were sanctioned.
This ill-timed freedom of speech made Cardinal Colon-
na his enemy, though the friend of genuine merit, be¬
cause he thought that some of his family were abused
by such a thundering philippic,in consequence of which
Rienzi was disgraced, and fell into extreme misery, vexa¬
tion, and sickness, which, by being united with indi¬
gence, brought him to an hospital. But as the cardinal
was compassionate, the offender was again-brought be¬
fore the Pope, who being informed that Rienza was a
good man, and the strenuous advocate of equity and
justice, gave him higher proofs of his esteem and con¬
fidence than before. He was appointed apostolic no¬
tary, and sent back to Rome loaded with the effects!
of papal munificence.
The functions of this office he executed in such a
manner as to become the idol of the people, whose af¬
fections he laboured to secure by exclaiming against the
vices of the great, rendering them as odious as possible;
for which imprudent liberties he was dismissed from of¬
fice. In this situation of his affairs he endeavoured to
kindle and keep alive in the-minds of the people a zeal
for their ancient liberties, displaying emblems of the an¬
cient grandeur and present decline of the city, accom¬
panied with harangues and many expressive predictions.
Such an intrepid, and at the same time extraordinary
conduct, made some regard him as a lunatic, while
others hailed him as their guardian and deliverer. When
he supposed that the numbers attached to his interest
were sufficiently strong, he called them together, and
gave them a dismal picture of the state of the city, over¬
run with debaucheries, which their governors had no
capacity either to correct or amend. He declared that
the Pope could, even at the rate of fourpence, raise
100,000 florins by firing, an equal sum by salt, and as
much more by the customs and other duties, insinuating
that he did not seize on the revenues without the con¬
sent of his Holiness.
This artful lie so powerfully animated his hearers,
that they signified their determination to secure these
treasures for whatever purposes might be most conveni¬
ent, and that to his will they would cheerfully devote
themselves. This resolution he caused them confirm by
an oath, and it is said that he had the address to procure
from the Pope’s vicar the sanction of Ins authority. On
the 20th of May he pretended that he did nothing but
in consequence of the particular inspiration of the Holy
Ghost, and about 9 o’clock he came out of the church
with his head bare, attended by the Pope’s vicar, and
about 100 men in armour. Having proceeded directly
to the capital, and declared from the rostrum, with even
more than his wopted boldness and energy, that the hour
R I E [ 29 ] H I G
Rienzi. of their emancipation was at length arrived ; that he
himself was to Lie their glorious deliverer, and that he
poured contempt on the d ingers to which he might be
exposed in the service of his Holiness, and for the hap¬
py deliverance of the people. The laws of the “ good
establishment” were next ordered to be read ; and he
rested assured that the Romans would resolve to observe
these laws, in consequence of which he pledged himself
to re-establish them in a short time in their ancient
grandeur and magnificence.
Plenty and security were the blessings promised by
the good establishment, and the humbling of the nobles,
who were regarded as common oppressors. Such ideas
filled the people with transport, and they became zeal¬
ously attached to the fanaticism of Rienzi. The mul¬
titude declared him to be sovereign of Rome, to whom
they granted the power of life and death, of rewards and
punishments, of making and repealing laws, of treating
with foreign powers, and a full and absolute authority
over all the Roman territories.
Having thus arrived at the zenith of his ambition, he
concealed his artifice as much as possible, and pretend¬
ed to be extremely averse to accept of their proffered
honours, unless they would make choice of the Pope’s
vipar to be his copartner, and find means to procure the
sr.nction of the Pope himself. His wish to have the vi¬
car (bishop of Orvieio) as his copartner was readily
complied with, while all the honours were paid to
Rienzi, the duped bishop enjoying but a mere nominal
authority. Rienzi was seated in his triumphal chariot,
and the people were dismissed, overwhelmed with joy
and expectation. This strange election was ratified by
the Pope, although it was impossible that he could in¬
wardly approve of it; and to procure a title exclusive
of the prerogative of his Holiness, was the next object
of Rienzi’s ambition. He sought, therefore, and readily
obtained the title of magistrate, which was conferred on
him and his coadjutor, with the additional epithet of
deliverers oj their country. The conduct of Rienzi im¬
mediately subsequent to this elevation justly procured
him esteem and respect, as well from the Romans as
from neighbouring states: but as his beginning was
mean and obscure, he soon became intoxicated with his
sudden, his extraordinary elevation, and the incensed
nobles having conspired against him, successfully drove
him from an authority which he had the prudence or
address to retain not more than six months. At this
critical period his life was only preserved by flight, and
disguises to which he had afterwards recourse.
Having made an ineffectual effort at Rome to regain
his authority, he went afterwards to Prague, to Charles
king of the Romans, in consequence of which rash.step
he was thrown into prison at Avignon, where he conti¬
nued for three years. When he procured his enlarge¬
ment, Pope Innocent IV. who succeeded Clement, well
knew that many of. the Romans were still attached to
Rienzi, and therefore he made choice of him as a fit ob¬
ject for assisting him in his design of humbling the other
petty tyrants of Italy. In short, he was set at liberty,
and appointed governor and senator of Rome. It was
hoped that his chastisement would teach him more mo¬
deration in future, and that gratitude would induce him
tQ preserve an inviolable attachment to the holy see du¬
ring the remainder of his life. He met with consider¬
able opposition in assuming his new authority, but cun¬
ning and resolution enabled him to overcome it. Rat Rien?i*
gratifying his pas inns, wh’ch were violent in the ex-
treme,and disgracing his office and character by acts of
cruelty ; he was murdered on the 8tb of October 1354-.
Thus died Nicolas Rienzi, one of the most extraordi¬
nary characters of the age in which he lived; who,
having formed a conspiracy big with extravagance, and
carried it into execution nearly in the face of the whole
world, with such remarkable success as to become sove¬
reign of Rome; having blessed the Romans with plen¬
ty, liberty, and justice; having afforded protection to
some princes, and proved a terror to others ; having be¬
come the arbiter of crowned heads, established the an¬
cient majesty and power of the Roman republic, and fill¬
ed all Europe with his fame; finally, having procured
their sanction whose authority he had usurped in oppo¬
sition to their interests ; he fell at last a sacrifice to the
nobles whoseruin he had vowed, and to those vast projects,
the execution of which was only prevented by his death.
RIFLE, in Gunnery. See Gunnery, No. 36, et. seq.
RIGA, a large, strong, populous, and rich town of
the Russian empire, and capital of Livonia. It is a large
trading place, and has a very considerable fortress; the
trade is chiefly in corn, skins, leather, and naval stores.
It was taken by the Russians in 1710, after they had
blocked it up a long while, during which the inhabitants
were afflictedwith the plague. The castle is square, and
defended by lour towers and six bastions; besides which,
it has a fine arsenal. The Protestants have still a hand¬
some col'ege here. The population is computed at
27^000. It is seated on a large plain on the river Dwi-
na. E. Long. 24. 25. N. Lat. 57. 0.
RIGADOGN, a gay and brisk dance, bornrwed ori¬
ginally from Provence in France, and performed in fi¬
gure by a man and woman.
RIGGING of a Ship, a general name given to all
the ropes employed to support the masts, and to extend,
or reduce the sails, or arrange them to the disposition off
the wind. The former, which are used to sustain the
masts, remain usually in a fixed position, and are called
standing rigging; such are the shrouds, stays, and back¬
stays. The latter, whose office is to manage the sails,
by communicating with various blocks or pulleys, si¬
tuated in different parts of the masts, yards, shrouds,
& c. are comprehended in the general term of running
rigging; such are the braces, sheets, haliards. clue-lines,
brails, &c.
In rigging a mast, the first thing usually fixed upon
its head is a circular wreath or rope, called the gromet,
or collar, which is firmly beat down upon the top of the
hounds. The intent of this is to prevent the shroud®
from being fretted or worn by the trestle-trees, or
shoulders of the mast; after this are laid on the two
pendants, from whose lower ends themain or fore-tackles
are suspended; and next, the shrouds of the starboard
and larboard side, in pairs, alternately. The whole dsr
covered by the stays, which are the largest ropes of the
rigging.—When a yard is to be rigged, a gromet is also
driven first on each of its extremities; next to this are
fitted on the horses, the braces, and lastly the lifts or
top-sail sheet-blocks.
The principal objects to be considered in rigging a
ship, appear to be strength, convenience, and simplicity ;
or, the propertie s of affording sufficient security to the
masts, yardsj und sails; or arranging the whole machi¬
nery
II I G [ ^0 ] R I Cx
‘l&iggint?* McTy in tli® most cidVciiits^cous munitGi, to siist^.m tlic
night, j^asts, and facilitate the management of the sails : and
W-y—' 0f aVoiding perplexity, and rejecting whatever is super¬
fluous or unnecessary. The perfection of this art, then,
consists in retaining all those qualities,and in preserving
a judicious medium between them. See Ship-builuing.
RIGHT, in Geometry,signifies the same with straight ;
thus, a stiaight line is called a right one.
Right is a title conferred, 1. Together with Reve¬
rend, upon all bishops. 2. Together with Honourable,
upon earls, viscounts, and barons. S. By courtesy, toge¬
ther with Honourable, upon the sons of dukes, marquises,
and the eldest sons of earls. 4. Together with Honour¬
able, to the speaker of the hou<e of commons ; but to
no other commoner excepting those whoare members of
his majesty’s most honourable privy-council; and the
three lord mayors of London, York, and Dublin, and
the lord provost of Edinburgh, during their office. See
Honouhable and Provost.
( Hereditary Right. See Hereditary.
The term Right is a word which, in the propriety of the
rirfit ex- English language, is used sometimes asan adjective and
plained. sometimes as a substantive. As an adjective it is nearly
of the same import with^7, suitable, becoming, proper,
* See Bee- an^ whilst it expresses a quality, it indicates a relation *.
tittule. Thus, when we say that an action is right, we must not
only know the nature of the action, but if we speak in¬
telligibly, must also perceive its relation to the end for
which it was performed ; for an action may be right
with one end in view which would be wrong with ano¬
ther. The conduct of that general would be right,
who, to save an army that could not be otherwise saved,
should place a small detachment in a station where he
knew they would all be inevitably cut off; but his
conduct would be very wrong were he to throw away
the life of a single individual for any purpoe, however
important, which he knew how to accomplish without
such a sacrifice.
Many philosophers have talked of actions being right
and wrong in the abstract without regard to their natu¬
ral consequences ; and converting the word into a sub¬
stantive, they have fancied an eternal rule of right, by
which the morality of human conduct is in every parti¬
cular case to be tried. But in these phrases we can dis¬
cover no meaning. Whatever is right must be so on some
accountor other ; and whatever x'&Jit, must be fit for some
purpose. When he who rests the foundation of virtue on
the moral sense, speaks of an action being right, he must
mean that it is such as, through the medium of that
sense, will excite complacency in the mind of the agent,
and gain to him the general approbation of mankind.
When he who rests moral obligation on the will of Godj
speaks of some actions as right and of others as wrong,
he must mean that the former are agreeable to the di¬
vine will, however made known to men, and the latter
disagreeable to it, and the man who deduces the laws
of virtue f rom what he calls the fitness of things, must
have some end in view, for which things are fit, and
denominate actions Tight nr wrong as they tend to pro¬
mote or counteract that end
But the wo: d right, used as a substantive, has in com¬
mon as well as in philosophical language a signification
which at first view appears to bevery differentfrom ibis.
It denotes <x just claimor an honest possession. Thuswesay,
a father has a right to reverence from his children, a
husband to the love and fidelity of his wife, and a king Right,
to the allegiance of his subjects. But if we trace these
rights to their source, we shall find that they are all laws
of moral obligation, and that they are caded rights only
because it is agreeable to the will of God, to the in-
stinciive dictates of the moral sense, or to the fitness of
things, if such a phrase has any meaning, that children
reverence their parents, that wives love their husbands,
and that subjects pay allegiance to their sovereign. This
will be apparent to any man v-ho shall put to himself
such questions as these : “ Why have pr.rents a right to
reverence from their children, husbands to the love of
their wives, and sovereigns to the allegiance of their
subjects ?” As these questions contain in them nothing
absurd, it is obvious that they are each capable of a
precise answer; but it is impossilde to give to any of
them an answer which shall have any meaning, and not
imply that right and obligation are reciprocal, or, in
other words, that wherever there is a right in one person
there is a corresponding obligation upon others. Thus
to the question, “ Why have parents a right to reverence
from their children ?” it may be answered, “ because,
under God, they were the authors of their children’s
being, and protected them from danger, and furnished
them with necessaries, when they were in a state so
helpless that they could do nothing for themselves.”
This answer conveys no other meaning than that there
is an obligation upon children, in return for benefits re¬
ceived, to reverence their parents. But what is the
source of this obligation ? It can only be the will of
God, the moral sense, or the fitness of things.
This view of the nature of right will enable us to
form a proper judgment of the assertion of a late writer,
“ that man has no rights.” The arguments by which Goodwin’?
this apparent paradox is maintained, are not merely in- Political
genious and plausible; they are absolutely conclusive, dustke.
But then our philosopher, who never chooses to travel
in the benten track, takes the word right in a sense ve¬
ry different from that in which it has been used by ad
other men, ami considers it as equivalent to discretionary g
power. “ By the word right (says he) is understood a Rights ef
lull and complete power of either doing a thing or man,
omitting it, without the person’s becoming liable to,
animadversion or censure from another ; that is, in other
words, without his incurring any degree of turpitude
or guilt.” In this sense of the word he affirms, and
affirms truly, that a man has no rights, no discretion¬
ary power whatever, except in things of such total in¬
difference as, whether “ be shall sit on the right or on
the left side of his fire, or dine on beef to-day or to¬
morrow.”
A proposition so evidently true as this stood not in
need of argument to support it ; but as his arguments
are clearly expressed, and afford a complete confutation
of some popular errors sanctioned by the respectable
phrase rights of man, we shall give our readers an op¬
portunity of studying them in his own words.
“ Political society is founded on the principles of
morality and justice. It is impossible for intellectual
beings to be brought into coalition and intercourse
without a certain mode of conduct, adapted to then-
nature and connection, immediately becoming a duty
incumbent on the parties concerned. Men would ne¬
ver have associated if they had not imagined that, in
consequence of that association, they would mutually
conduce
RIG r 31 J R I G
Rii'ht.
3
Ual and
4
Vaiious.
conduce to the advantage and happiness of each other.
This is the real purpose, the germin'? bash, of their in¬
tercourse; and, as far as this purpose is answered, so
far does society answer the end of its institution. There
is only one postulate more that is necessary to bring us
to a conclusive mode of reasoning upon this subject.
Whatever is meant by the term right, there can neither
be opposite rights, nor rights and duties hostile to each
o'lier. The rights of one man cannot dash with or be
destructive of the rights of another : for this, instead of
rendering the subject an important branch of truth and
morality, as the advocates of the rights of man certain¬
ly understood it to be, would be to reduce it to a heap
of unintelligible jargon and inconsistency. If one man
have a right to he free, another man cannot have a right
to make him a slave ; if one man have a right to inflict
chastisement upon me, 1 cannot have a right to with¬
draw myself from chastisement; if my neighbour have
a right to a sum of money in my possession, I cannot
have a right to retain it in my pocket. It cannot be
less incontrovertible, that I have no right to omit what
my duty prescribes. From hence it inevitably follows
that men have no rights.
“ It is commonly said, c that a man has a right to
the disposal of his fortune, a right to the employment
of his time, a right to the uncontrolled choice of his
profession or pursuits/ But this can never be consist¬
ently affirmed till it can be shown that he has no duties,
prescribing and limiting his mode of proceeding in all
these respects.
“ In reality, nothing can appear more wonderful to a
careful inquirer, than that two ideas so incompatible as
rna/i and rights should ever have been associated toge¬
ther. Certain it is, that one of them must be utterly ex¬
clusive and annihiiatory of the other. Before we ascribe
rights to man, we must conceive of him as a being en¬
dowed with intellect, and capable of discerning the dif¬
ferences and tendencies of things. But a being endowed
With intellect, and capable of discerning the differences
and tendencies of things, instantly becomes a moral be¬
ing, and has duties incumbent on him to discharge: and
duties and rights, as has already been shown, are abso¬
lutely exclusive of each other.
“ It has been affirmed by the zealous advocates of
liberty, ‘ that princes and magistrates have no rights
and no position can be more incontrovertible. There
is no situation of their lives that has not its correspon¬
dent duties. There is no power intrusted to them that
they are not hound to exercise exclusively for the public
good. It is strange, that persons adopting this prin¬
ciple did not go a step farther, and perceive that the
same restrictions were applicable to subjects and citi¬
zens."
This reasoning is unanswerable; but it militates not
against the rights of man in the usual acceptation of the
words, which are never employed to denote discretion¬
ary power, but a just claim on the one hand, implying
a corresponding obligation on the other. Whether the
phrase be absolutely proper is not worth the debating :
it is authorised by custom—t\\e jus et norma loquendi~—
and is universally understood except by such as the dae¬
mons of faction, in the form of paradoxical writers on
political justice, have been able to mislead by sophisti¬
cal reasonings. r
Mights, in the common acceptation of the word,
are of various kinds: they are natural or adventitious, Right.
alienable or unalienable, perfect or imperfect, particular
or general. See the article Liberty.
Natural rights are those which a man has to his life, 5
limbs, and liberty; to the produce of his personal la- Natural'
hour; to the use, in common writh others, of air, light, rights'
and water, &c. That every man has a natural right
or just claim to these things, is evident from their being
absolutely necessary to enable him to answer that pur¬
pose, whatever it may be, lor which he was made a li¬
ving and a rational being. This shows undeniably, that
the Author of his nature designed that he should have
the U'C of them, and that the man who should wanton¬
ly deprive him of any one of them, would be guilty of
a breach of the divine law, as well as act inconsistently
with the fitness of things in every sense in which that
phrase can possibly be understood.
Adventitious rights are-those which a king has over Adventi-
his subjects, a general over bis soldiers, a husband to the tious rights*
person and affections of bis wife, and which every man
has to the greater part of his property. That the rights
of the king and the general are adventitious, is univer¬
sally admitted. The rights of property have been con¬
sidered elsewhere (see Property); and though the hu¬
man constitution shows sufficiently that men and women
have a natural right to the use of each other, yet it is
evident that the exclusive right of any one man to any
one woman, and vice versa, must be an adventitious
right: but the important question is, How are adven¬
titious rights acquired ? 7
In answer to this question, the moralist who deduces How ac*
the laws of virtue from the will of God, observes, that (luired*
as God appears from his works to be a benevolent Be¬
ing, who wills the happiness of all his creatures (see
Metaphysics, N° 312), he must of course will every
thing which naturally tends to promote that happiness.
But the existence of civil society evidently contributes
in a great degree to promote the sum of human happi¬
ness (see Society) ; and therefore whatever is neces¬
sary for the support of civil society in general, or for
the conduct of particular societies already established,
must be agreeable to the will of God: 13ut the alle¬
giance of subjects to their sovereign, the obedience of
soldiers to their leader, the protection of private pro¬
perty, and the fulfilling of contracts, are all absolutely
necessary to the support of society: and hence the
right? of kings, generals, husbands, and wives, &c.
though adventitious, and immediately derived from hu¬
man appointments, are not lesssacred than natural rights,
since they may all be ultimately traced to the same
source. The same conclusion may easily be drawn by
the philosopher, who rests moral obligation on the fit¬
ness of things or on a moral sense ; only it must in each
of these cases partake of the instability of its founda¬
tion. f$r.
To the sacredness of the rights of marriage, an au- Objection.-;
thor already quoted has lately urged some declamatory t0 some
objections. “ It is absurd (says he) to expect, that
the inclinations and wishes of two human beings should 0
coincide through any long period of time. To oblige
them to act and to live together, is to subject them to
some inevitable portion of thwarting, bickering, and
unhappiness. This cannot be otherwise, so long as
man has failed to reach the standard of absolute perfec¬
tion. The supposition that I must have a companion
foe-
RIG [ ] RIG
for life, is the result of a complication of vices. -It is that the species should he propagated and reasonable
  ' the dictate of cowardice, and not of fortitude. It flows men in his Utopian commonwealth would be incited by '
from tbe desire of being loved and esteemed for some- reason and duty to propagate them : but tie w .y t >
thing that is not desert. fulfil this duty, experience, which is se dom at one with
“ But the evil of marriage, as it is practised in Eu- speculative reformation, has already demon-tiated, not
ropean countries, lies deeper than this. The habit is, to consist in the promiscuous intercourse o. seveial men
for a thoughtless and romantic youth of each sex to with one woman, but in the fidelity ot individuals of
come together, to see each other for a few times, and the two sexes to each others Common prostitutes among
under circumstances full of delusion, and then to vow to us seldom prove with child ; and the society of Am o\js
each other eternal attachment. What is the conse- in Otaheite, who have completely divested themselves
quence of this ? [n almost every instance they findthem-
selves deceived. They are reduced to make the best
of an irretrievable mistake. They are presented with
the strongest imaginable temptation to becomethe dupes
of falsehood. They are led to conceive it their wisest
policy to shut their eyes upon realities ; happy if by any
perversion of intellect they can persuade themselves that
they were right in their first crude opinion of their
companion.
“ So long as two human beings are forbidden by
positive institution to follow the dictates of their own
mind, prejudice is alive and vigorous. So long as I
seek to engross one woman to myself, and to prohibit
my neighbour from proving his superior desert and reap-
, ing the fruits of it, I am guilty of the most odious of
all monopolies. Over this imaginary prize men watch
with perpetual jealousy ; and one man will find his de¬
sires and his capacity to circumvent as much excited, as
the other is excited to traverse his projects and frustrate
his hopes. As long as this state of society continues,
philanthropy will be crossed and checked in a thousand
ways, and the still augmenting stream of abuse will
continue to flow.
“ The abolition of marriage will be attended with
no evils. The intercourse of the sexes will fall under
the same system as any other species of friendship. Ex¬
clusively of ah groundless and obstinate attachments, it
will he impossible for me to live in the world without
finding one man of a worth superior to that of any
other whom I have an opportunity of observing. To
this man I shall feel a kindness in exact proportion to
my apprehension of his worth. The case will be pre¬
cisely the same with respect to the female sex; I shall
assiduously cultivatetheiutercourseof that woman whose
accomplishments shall strike me in the most powerful
manner. ‘ But it may happen that other men will feel
for her the same preference that I do.’ This will
create no difficulty. We may all enjoy her conversa¬
tion ; and we shall all be wise enough to consider the
sensual intercourse as a very trivial object. This, like
every other affair in which two persons are concerned,
must be regulated in each successive instance by the un¬
forced consent of either party. It is a mark of the ex¬
treme depravity of our present habits, that we are in¬
clined to suppose the sensual intercourse anywise mate¬
rial to the advantages arising from the purest affection.
Reasonable men now eat and drink, not from the love
of pleasure, but because eating and drinking are essen¬
tial to our healthful existence. Reasonable men then
will propagate their species, not because a certain sensi-
b’e pleasure is annexed to this action, but because it is
right the species should be propagated; and the man¬
ner in which they exercise this function will be regulat-
jj ed by the dictates of reason and duty.”
Obviated. -If is right then, according to this political innovator,
of what our author calls prejudice, and are by no means
guilty of his most odious of all monopolies, are for the most
part childless (see Otaheite). He seems to think that
a state of equal property would necessarily destroy our
relish for luxury, decrease our inordinate appetites of
every kind,and lead us universally to prefer the pleasures
of intellect to the pleasures of sense. But here again
experience is against him. The Arreoys, who have a
property in their wromen perfectly equal, are the most
luxurious and sensual wretches on the face of the earth ;
sensual indeed to a degree of which the most libidinous
European can hardly form a conception.
By admitting it to be a duty to propagate the specie?,
•our author must necessarily grant that every thing is
right which is requisite to the fulfilling of that duty,
and the contrary wrong. If so, promiscuous concubin¬
age is wrong, since we have seen, that by a law of na¬
ture it is incompatible with the duty ; whence it follows
on his own principles, that the sexual union Ivy pairs
must be right. The only question therefore to be de¬
cided between him and his opponents is, “ Whether
should that union be temporary or permanent ?” And
we think the following observations by Mr Paley suf¬
ficient to decide it to the conviction of every person
not blinded by the rage of innovation.
“ A lawgiver, whose counsels were directed by views
of general utility, andobstructed by nolocal impediments,
would makethe marriagecontraetindissolubleduringthe
joint lives of the parties, for the sake of the following ad¬
vantages: Such an union tends to preserve peace and con¬
cord between married persons, by perpetuatingtheircom-
mon interest, and by inducing anecessity of mutual com¬
pliance. An earlier termination of it would produce a
separate interest. The wife would naturally look forward
to the dissolution of the partnership, and endeavour to
draw to herself a fund against the time when she was no
longer to have access to the same resources. This would
beget peculation on one side, and mistrust on the other ;
evils which at present very little disturb the confidence
of married life. The second effect of making the union
determinable only by death, is not less beneficial. It
necessarily happens, that adverse tempers, habits, and
tastes, oftentimes meet in marriage. In which case, each
party must take pains to give up what offends, and prac¬
tise what may gratify, the other. A man and woman
in love with each other do this insensibly : but love is
neither general nor durable ; and where that is wanting,
no lessons of duty, no delicacy of sentiment, will go half
so fir with the generality of mankind and womankind
as this one intelligible reflection, that they must each
make the best of tlieirbargain; and that seeingthey must
either both be miserable or both share in the same hap¬
piness, neither can find their own comfort but in promo-
ting the pleasure of the other. These compliances, though
at first extorted by necessity, become in time easy and
mutual
E I G
[ S3 ]
11 I G
Right.
10
Rights a-
lienable
and unali¬
enable.
mutual; and though less endearing than assiduities which
take their rise from affection, generally procure to the
married pair a repose and satisfaction sufficient for their
happiness.”
So differently from our author does this judicious writer
reason concerning the effects of ape rmanent union on the
tempers of the married pair. Instead of subj ecting them
to some inevitable portion of thwarting, bickering, and
unhappiness, it lays them, in his opinion, under the ne¬
cessity of curbing their unruly passions, and acquiring
habits of gentleness, forbearance, and pence. To this
we may add, that both believing the children propaga¬
ted during their marriage to be their own, (a belief unat¬
tainable by the father in a state of promiscuous concubi¬
nage), they come bv a natural process of the human pas¬
sions (see Passion) to love each other through the me¬
dium of their offspring. But if it be the duty of man to
acquire a spirit first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and
easy to be intreated, it must be agreeable to the will of
God, and a branch of the fitness of things, that the sex¬
ual union last during the joint lives of the parties ; and
therefore the exclusive right of marriage, though ad¬
ventitious, must be equally sacred with those Avhich are
natural.
But to return from this digression, into which the im¬
portance of the subject led us, rights, besides being na¬
tural or adventitious, are likewise alienable or unaliena¬
ble. Every man, when he becomes the member of a
civil community, alienates a part of his natural rights.
In a state of nature, no man has a superior on earth, and
each has a right to defend his life, liberty, and property
by all the means which nature has put in his power. In
civil society, however, these rights are all transferred to
the laws and the magistrate, except in ca^es of such ex¬
treme urgency as leave not time for legal interposition.
This single consideration is sufficient to show, that the
right to civil liberty is alienable ; though, in the vehe¬
mence of men’s zeal for it, and in the language of some
political remonstrances, it has often been pronounced to
be an unalienable right. Ci The true reason (says Mr
Right.
his audience : but even this right is imperfect, for he
cannot refuse the communion to a man merely on ac¬
count of his iiliberality to the poor, as he can to another
for the neglect of any duty comprehended under the
term justice. In elections or appointments to offices,
wherethe qualifications are prescribed, thebest qualified
candidate has unquestionably a right to success ; yet if
he be rejected, he can neither seize the office by force,
nor obtain redress at law. His right, therefore, is im¬
perfect.
Here a questionnaturally offers itself to our considera¬
tion : “ How comes a person to have a right to a thing,
and yet have no right to use the means necessary to ob¬
tain it ?” The answer is, That in such cases the object
or the circumstances of the right are so indeterminate,
that the permission of force, even where the right is real
and certain, would lead to force in other cases wlvere
there exists no right at all. Thus, though the poor man
has a right to relief, who shall ascertain the mode, sea¬
son, and quantum of it, or the person by whom it shall
be administered ? These things must be ascertained be¬
fore the right to relief can be enforced by law ; but to
allow them to be ascertained by the poor themselves,
would be to expose property to endless claims. In like
manner, the comparative qualifications of the candidate
must be ascertained, before he can enforce his right to
the office: but to allow him to ascertain his qualifica¬
tions himself, would be to make him judge in his own
cause between himself and his neighboux*.
Wherever the right is imperfect on one side, the cor- imperfect
responding obligation on the other must be imperfect rights e-
likewise. The violation of it, however, is often not less qually sa-
criminal in a moral and religious view than of a perfect cl’cd WItJ1.,
o j. those wliicli
obligation. It is well observed by Mr Paley, that greater are pdf^.
guilt is incurred by disappointing a worthy candidate of
a place upon whicii perhaps his livelihood depends, and
in which he could eminently serve the public, than by
filching a hook out of a library, or picking a pocket of a
handkerchief. The same sentiment has been expressed
by Mr Godwin, but in tenns by much too strong, and
12
Paley) why mankind hold in detestation the memory of such as show that he was not at the time complete mas
11
Perfect and
imperfect.
those who have sold their liberty to a tyrant is, that,
together with their own, they sold commonly or endan¬
gered the liberty of others ; of w hich they had certainly
no right to dispose." The rights of a prince over his
people, and of a husband over his wife, aregenerallyand
naturally unalienable.
ter of his subject. “ My neighbour (says he) has just as
much right to put an end to my existence w ith digger
or poison, astodeny me thatpecuniaryassistancewitlxout
which I must starve, or as to deny me that as-Ttance
without which my intellectual attainments, or my moral
exertions, will be materially injured. He has just as
Another division of rights is into those which are per- much I'ight to amuse himself with burning my house, or
feet and those which are imperfect. Perfect rights are
such as may be precisely ascertained and asserted by
force or in civil society by the course of law. To imper¬
fect rights neither force nor law is applicable. A man’s
rights to his life, person, and property, are all peiffect:
torturing my children upon the rack, as to shut himself
up in a cell, careless about his fellow men, and to hide
f his talent in a napkin.’
It is certainly true, that the man who should suffer
another to starve for want of that relief which he knew
for if any of these be attacked, he may repel the attack thathea/o«e could afford him, would be guilty of mur-
by instant violence, punish the aggressor by the course der, and murder of the cruellest kind ; but there is an
of law, or compel the author of the injury to make resti- immense difference between depriving society of one of
tution or satisfaction. A woman’s right to her honour its members, and with-holding from that member what
is likewise perfect: for if she cannot otherwise escape, might be necessary to enable him to make the greatest
she may kdl theravisher. Everypoor rnanhasundoubted possible intellectual attainments. Newton might have
right to relief from the rich : but his right is imperfect, beenusefulandhappy thoughhehadneverbeenacquaint-
ft r if the rebel be not voluntarily given, he cannot com- ed with the elements of mathematics; and the late ce-
pel it either by law or by violence. There is no duty lebrated Mr Fergusson miglxt have been a valuable mem-
upon which the Christian religion puts a greater value ber of society, though he had never emerged from his
than alms-giving ; and every preacher of the gospel has original condition of a shepherd. The remainder of the
an undoubted right to inculcate the practice of it upon paragraph is too absurd to require a formal confutation.
Voi*. XVIII. Bait I. 1 1 £ Had
Riglft,
Righteous-
ness.
13
Rights par¬
ticular and
general.
14
Rights of
necessity*
RIG £34] RIG
Had our author, buryinghis talentin a napkin,^hut him¬
self up seven years ago in a cell, careless about his fellow
men and political justice, he would have deprived the
public of what he doubtless believes to be much useful
instruction ; but had he at that period amused himself
with burning his neighbour’s house, and torturing on
the rack two or three children, he would have cut off,
for any thing he could know, two or three future New¬
tons, and have himself been cut off by the insulted laws
of his country. Now, without supposing the value of
ten Newtons to be equal to that of one Godwin, we
are warranted tosay, that however great his merits may
be, they are not infinite, and that the addition of those
of one Newton to them would undoubtedly increase
their sum.
Rights are particular or general. Particular rights
are such as belong to certain individuals or orders of
men, and not to others. The rights of kings, of mas¬
ters, of husbands, of wives, and, in short, all the rights
which originate in societ)', are particular. General
rights are those which belong to the species collectively.
Such are our rights to the vegetable produce of the
earth, and to the flesh of animals for food, though about
the origin of this latter right there has been much diver¬
sity of opinion, which we have noticed in another place.
(See Theology, part 1. sect. 2d). If the vegetable
produce of the earth be includedunderthe general rights
of mankind, it is plain that he is guilty of wrong who
leaves any considerable portion of land waste merely for
his own amusement: he is lessening the common stock
of provision w hich Providence intended to distribute
among the species. On this principle it w ould not be
easy to vindicate certain regulations respecting game, as
well as some other monopolies which are protected by
the municipal laws of most countries. Mr Paley, by
just reasoning, has established this conclusion, “ that
nothing ought to be made exclusive property which can
be conveniently enjoyed in common.” An equal divi¬
sion of land, however, the dream of some visionary re¬
formers, would be injurious to the general rights of
mankind, as it may be demonstrated, that it would les¬
sen the common stock of provisions, by laying every
man under the necessity of being his own weaver, tailor,
shoemaker, smith, and carpenter, as well as ploughman,
miller and baker. Among the general rights of man¬
kind is the right of necessity ; by which a man may use
or destroy his neighbour’s property when it is absolutely
necessary for his own preservation. It is on this princi-
ple that goods are thrown overboard to save the ship,
and houses pulled dowm to stop the progress of a fire.
In such cases, however, at least in the last, restitution
ought to be made when it is in our power; but this re-
stitution will not extend to the original value of the
property destroyed, but only to what it was woith at
the time of destroying it, which, considering its danger,
may be very little.
RIGHTEOUSNESS, means justice, honesty, vir¬
tue, goodness, and amongst Christians is of exactly the
^sarne import with holiness, without which, we are told,
-no man shall see the Lord. The doctrine of the fall,
and of redemption through Jesus Christ, has occasioned
much disputation, and given rise to many singular no¬
tions in the world. The haughty philosopher, dissatis¬
fied with mysteries, and with the humiliating doctrine
of atonement by a crucified Saviour, has made a religion
for himself, which he calls rational Christiatiity ; and Righteous,
the enthusiast, by extracting doctrines from Scripture 1K‘®S-
which are not contained in it, and which are repugnant RinolL
to its spirit, has given too much countenance to this pre-
sumption. The doctrine of imputed righteousness, by
which the merit of Christ is said to be imputed to u=,
appears to be of this number; and though it has been
held by many good, and by some learned men, it is
certainly in general unfriendly to virtue, as will be
readily allowed by all who have conversed with the
more ignorant sort of Methodists in England or Sece-
ders in Scotland. That it does not follow from the
doctrine of the atonement, and consequently that it has
no foundation in Scripture, will appear elsewhere. See
Theology.
Bill of Rights, in Law, is a declaration delivered
by the lords and commons to the prince and princess of
Orange, 13th February 1688 ; and afterwards enacted
in parliament, when they became king and queen. It
sets forth, that King James did, by tbe assistance of di¬
vers evil counsellors, endeavour to subvert the laws and
liberties of this kingdom, by exercising a power of dis¬
pensing withand suspending of laws; by levying money
for the use of the crown by pretence of prerogative with¬
out consent of parliament; by prosecuting those who
petitioned the king, and discouraging petitions ; by rai¬
sing and keeping a standing army in time of peace ; by
violating the freedom of election of members to serve in
parliament ; by violent prosecutions in the court of
king’s bench ; and causing pai'tial and corrupt jurors to
be returned on trials, excessive bail to be taken, exces¬
sive fines to be imposed, and cruel punishments inflict¬
ed ; all which were declared to be illegal. And tbe
declaration concludesin these remarkable words : “ And
they do claim, demand, and insist upon, all and singu¬
lar tbe premises, astheir undoubted rightsand liberties.’*
And the act of parliament itself (1 W. and M. stat. 2.
cap. 2.) recognizes “ all and singular the rights and li¬
berties, asserted and claimed in the said declaration, to
be the true, ancient, indubitable rights of the people of
this kingdom.” See Liberty.
RIGIDITY, in Physics, denotes a brittle hard¬
ness. It is opposed to ductility, malleability, and soft¬
ness.
RIGOLL, or Regals, a kind of musical instru-
merrt, consisting of several sticks bound together, only
separated by beads. It is tolerably harmonious, being
well struck with a ball at the end of a stick. Such is
the account which Grassineau gives of this instrument.
Skinner, upon the authority of an old English diction-
aiy, represents it as a clavichord, or claricord; possibly
founding his opinion on the nature of the office of the
tuner of the regals, who still subsists in the establishment
of the king’s chapel at St James's, and whose business is
to keep the organ of the chapel royal in tune; and not
knowing that such wind instruments as the organ need
frequent tuning, as well as the clavichord and other
stringed instruments. Sir Henry Spelman derives the
word rigoll from the Italian rigabello, a musical instru¬
ment, anciently used in churches instead of the organ.
Walther, in his description of the regal, makes it to be
a reed-work in an organ, with metal and also wooden
pipes and bellows adapted to it. And he adds, that the
name of it is supposed to be owing to its having been
presented by the inventor to some king.—From an ac¬
count
E I N [ 35 ] E I 0
Bigoll count of the re^al use;l in Germany, and othil* parts of obtained over the Midi inites, t’ ey offered ta the Lord Kings
'' Europe, it appears to consist of pipes and keys on one
side, and the bel'ows and wind-chest on the other. We
may add, that Lord Bacon (Nat. Hist. cent. ii. 102.)
distinguishes between the regal and organ, in a man¬
ner which shows them to be instruments of the same
class. Upon the whole, there is reason to conclude,
that the regal or rigoll was a pneumatic, and not a
stringed instrument.
Mersennus relates, that the Flemings invented an in¬
strument, les regales de hois, consisting of 17 cylindri¬
cal pieces of wood, decreasing gradually in length, so
as to produce a succession of tones and semitons in the
diatonic series, which had keys, and was played on as a
spinet; the hint of which, he says, was taken from an
instrument, in use amono- the Turks, con-'isting of 12
wooden cylinders, of different lengths, strung toge¬
ther, which being suspended and struck with a stick,
having a ball at the end, produced music. Hawkins’s
Hist. Mus. vol. ii. p. 449.
RIGOR, in Medicine^ a convulsive shuddering from
severe told, an ague fit, or other disorder.
RIMINI, an ancient, populous, and handsome town
of Italy, in Romagna, which is part of the territory of
the church, with a bishop’s see, an old castle, and a
strong tower ; as also many remains of antiquity, and
\?ery fine buildings. It is famous for a council in 1359,
consisting of 400 bishops, who were ail Arians except
20. It is seated in a fertile plain, at the mouth of the
river Marecchia, on the gulf of Venice. E. Long. 12.
8<J. N. Lat. 44. 6.
RIND, the skin of any fruit that may be cut ofF or
pared. Kindis also used for the inner bark of trees,
or that whitish soft substance which adheres immedi¬
ately to the wood. See Plant.
RING, an ornament of gold and silver, of a circular
figure, and usually worn on the finger.
The episcopal ring (which makes a part of the pon¬
tifical apparatus, and is esteemed a pledge of the spiri¬
tual marriage between the bishop and his church) is of
very ancient standing. The fourth council of Toledo,
held in 633, appoints, that a bishop condemned by one
council, and found afterwards innocent by a second,
shall be restored, by giving him the ring, staff', 6cc.
From bishops, the custom of the ring has passed to
cardinals, who are to pay a very great sum pro jure
annuli cardinalitii.
Ring, m Navigation and Astronomy, an instrument
made use of for taking an altitude of the sun, Ne. It
is commonly of brass, about nine inches in diameter,
suspended by a small swivel, at the distanceof 45°, from
the point of which there is a pet forath n, being the cen¬
tre of a quadrant of divided in the inner concave
surface. It is to be held up by the swivel when used,
and turned round to the sun, till his rays, failing
through the hole, form a spot among the degrees, by
which the required altitude is pointed out. This instru-
ment is deemed preferable to the astrolabe, becauoethe
divis'ons are larger than on that instrument.
RINGS, i he antiquity of rings is known from
Scripture and p ofane authors. Judah left his ring or
signet with Tamar (Gen. xxxviii. 13.). When Pfiaraoh
committed the government of all Egypt to Joseph, he
took his ring from his finger, and gave it to Joseph
(Gen. xli. 42.). After the victory that the Israelites
the rings, the bracelets, and the golden neck’aces, and . '*
the ear-rin ’S, that they had taken from the enemy
(Numb. xxxi. 50.) The Uvaelitish women wore rings ' _ _
not only on their fingers, but also in their nostrils and
their ears. St James distinguishes a man of wealth and
dignity by the ring of gold that he wore on his finger
(James ii. 2 ). At the return of the prodigal son. Ids
father orders him to be dressed in a new suit of clothes,
and to have a ring put upon his finger (Luke xv. 22.).
When the Lord threatened King Jeconiah with the ut¬
most effects of Ids anger, he tells him, that though he
wore the signet or ring upon his finger, yet he should
be torn off (Jer. xxii 24.).
The ring was used chiefly to seal with : and the Scrip¬
ture generally puts it in the hands of princes and great'
persons ; as the king of Egypt, .Joseph, /Vhaz, Jezebel,
King Ahasuerus, his favourite Hainan, Mordecai who
succeeded Haman in his dignity, King Darius (1 Kings
xxi. 8.; Esther iii. 10, &c.; Dan. vi 1?.) The pa¬
tents and orders of these princes were sealed with their
rings or signets; and it was this that secured to them
their authority and respect. See the article Seal.
RiNG-Bone. See Farriery Index.
RiNG-Onsel, a species of Turdus. See Ornitho¬
logy Index.
RIO-grande, a river of Africa, which runs from
east to west through Negroland, aud falls into the At¬
lantic ocean, in 11 degrees of latitude. Some take it
te be a branch of the Niger, of which there is not the
least proof.
RIO de Janeiro, the name of one of the provinces
into wfidch Brazil, the Portuguese poition of South
America, is divided, and by far the most important in
consequence of the discovery and improvement of the
gold and diamond mines about 300 miles to the north¬
west. The diamond mines are the exclusive property of
the crown, as well as a fifth part of the gold. The peo¬
ple have of late begun to manufacture many necessary
articles for their own consumption. The soil is luxu¬
riant, producing spontaneously most kinds of fruit; and
the ground is covered with one continued forest of trees
of perpetual verdure, which, from the exuberance of
the sod, are so entangled with briars, thorns, and un¬
derwood, as to form a thicket absolutely impenetrable,
except by some narrow foot-paths, which the inhabi¬
tants have made for their own convenience. The
woods are extremely fragrant, from the many aromatic
trees and shrubs with which they abound, and the
fruits and vegetables of every climate thrive here a most
without culture, and are to be procured in great abun¬
dance. The water is excellent ; and among the ordi¬
nary productions of this richest province of Brazil mAy
be ranked cotton, sugar, coffee, cocoa, wheat, rice, pep¬
per, and abundance of tobacco Vines are here met
with in great perfection, but the grapes are not pres¬
sed for the purpose of obtaining wine. Gold, silver,
and precious stones, are annually exported by the Por¬
tuguese, whose indolence has prevented them from giv¬
ing to the world any satisfactory accounts concerning
those remote regions wliicb aresui jeetto their autho¬
rity. See Brasil Supplement.
Riode Janeiro, or St Sebastian, an extensive citv, the
metropolis of the foregoing p ovince of Brazil, and the
see of a bishop. It has a very extensive and connnodi-
E 2 ou$
RIO [ 36' ] RIO
Rio «e Ja- ouS harbour, which is defended by a number of forts,
neiro. cjty ]s built upon ground which is rather low and
' r—' was at one period of a swampy nature; it is environed
by hills which exclude ina great measure the advantages
of fresh air, both from the land and the sea, on which
account the summers are inimical to health, the heat be¬
ing almost suffocating. The different mechanics carry
on their respective branches in distinct partsof thetown,
particular trades having particular streets assigned to
them. The viceroy’s palace is erected on the side of an
extensive square; and there are fountains in different
other squares, to which an aqueduct of considerable
length conveys water over valleys by a double row of
arches. On the exreme point are a fort called Santa
Cruz, built on a prodigious rock of granite, and a Be¬
nedictine convent, jutting into the harbour, opposite to
which is Serpent island, where there are houses for ma¬
gazines and naval stores, together with a dock-yard.
The warehouses for the reception and preparation of
slaves from Africa for sale, are in another part of the
harbour, known by the name of Val Longo. The city of
Eio Janeiro is situated near the mouth of a river of the
same name in the Atlantic ocean. The streets of this
city are in general well paved and straight. The houses
in general are two stories high, covered with tiles, and
Lave balconies of wood extending in front of the upper
stories ; but the best of them have that dull and heavy
appearance Avhich must necessarily be the case when lat¬
ticed windows supply the want of glass. The rocks in
its vicinity are granite, of a red, white, or deep blue
colour, the last being of a compact and hard tex¬
ture.
Females of rank and distinction are said to have fine
dark eyes, countenances full of animation, and their
heads only ornamented with their tresses, which are
bound up with ribbons and flowers. There are nume¬
rous convents and monasteries, and labour is in general
performed by slaves, 20,000 of which are said to be an¬
nually imported. Rio de Janeiro is a city of very consi¬
derable extent, and the population, including slaves, has
been estimated at 60,000 ; but according to Dr Morse,
at no fewer than 200,000, as we find in his American
Gazetteer, published in 1798 ; yet it appears extraordi¬
nary, that in such a city there is neither inn, nor hotel,
nor any sort of accommodation for the reception of
strangers. Such accommodation, however, is scarcely
necessary, the weak and jealous governmentbeing so in¬
hospitable, as to prohibit strangers from remaining on
shore after the going down of the sun, and from walk¬
ing the streets during the day without military spies.
When Mr Barrow visited this place, he found only
two booksellers shops in it, after a long search, and
many inquiries ; but they contained nothing useful or
interesting to a native of Britain. A number of old vc-
lumes on the subjects of alchemy and medicine, many
more on church history and theological controversy,
with a few on the mighty deeds of the house of Brag-
anza, were all their catalogues contained.
It is said that the inhabitants sometimes go in small
parties to the Public Garden, where they take supper,
walk, and enjoy themselves with music and fireworks to
a very late hour of the night.
Rio de Janeiro may justly be regarded as the grand
central point on the coast of the Brazils, from which
every other part of it may be at any time overawed.
Its regular force is said to consist of two squadrons of de Ja-
cavalry, two regiments of artillery, six regiment&of in-
fanny, two battalions of disciplined militia, and 200 ^
diciplined free negroes, making a sum total of more v 10' i
than 10,000 men; but Mr Barrow is of opinion that
this estimate is much exaggerated, since during his stay
in that city he could discover nothing to warrant such a
conclusion; and he is inclined to think that the whole
force of the Brazils united cannot exceed the number of
10,000 men. This place, which has for a time at least
become the residence of the royal family and govern¬
ment of Portugal, will, no doubt, acquire additional
importance, and may perhaps at some future period be
the seat of a mighty empire.
Rio Janeiro, a river which rises in the western moun¬
tains of Brazil, and running east through that country,
falls into the Atlantic ocean at St Sebastian.
RIOM, an ancient town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Puy de Dome ; seated on a hill, in so agree¬
able a country, that it is called the garden of Auvergne,
E. Long. 3. 12. N. Lat. 45. 51.
RIOT, in Law. The riotous assembling of 12 per¬
sons, or more, and not dispersing upon proclamation,
was first made high treason by statute 3 and 4 Edw. VI.
c. 5. when the king was a minor, and a change of reli¬
gion to be effected : but that statute was repealed by
statue 1 Mar. c. 1. among the other treasons created
since the 25 Edw. III.; though the prohibition was in
substance re-enacted, with an inferior degree of punish¬
ment, by statute 1 Mar. st. 2. c. 12. which made the
same offence a single felony. These statutes specified
and particularized the nature of the riots they were
meant to suppress ; as, for example, such as were set on
foot with intention to offer violence to the privy-coun¬
cil, or to change the laws of the kingdom, or for
certain other specific purposes ; in which cases, if the
persons were commanded by proclamation to disperse,
and they did not, it was by the statute of Mary made
felony, but within the benefit of clergy : and also the
act indemnified the peace-officers and their assistants, if
they killed any of the mob in endeavouring to suppress
such riot. This was thought a necessary security in that
sanguinary reign, when popery was intended to be re¬
established, which was like to produce great discontents:
but at first it was made only for a year, and was after¬
wards continued for that queen’s life. And, by statute
1 Eliz. c. 16. when a reformation in religion was to be
once more attempted, it was revived and continued du¬
ring her life also; and then expired. From the acces¬
sion c f James I. to the death of Queen Anne, it was ne¬
ver once thought expedient to revive it; but, in the
first year of George I. it was judged necessary, in order
to support the execution of the act of settlement, to re¬
new it, and at one stroke to make it perpetual, with
large additions. For, whereas the former acts expressly
defined and specified what should be accounted a riot,
the statute 1 Geo. I. c. 5. enacts, generally, that if any
12 persons are unlawfully assembled to the disturbance
ot the peace, and any one justice of the peace, sheriff,
under-sheriff, or mayor of a town, shall think proper to
command them by proclamation to disperse, if they con¬
temn his orders and continue together for one hour af¬
terwards, such contempt shall be felony without benefit
of clergy. And farther, if the reading of the procla¬
mation be by force opposed, or the reader lie in any
manner
RIP [ 37 ] RIP
ttl0t» manner wilfully hindered from the reading of it, such
Kipcn. 0pp0Sers anti hinderers are felons without benefit of cler-
L gy; and all persons to whom such proclamation ought to
have been made, and knowing of such hindrance, and
not dispersing, are felbns without benefit of clergy.
There is the like indemnifying clause, in case any of the
mob be unfortunately killed in the endeavour to disperse
them ; being copied from the act of Queen Mary. And
by a subsequent clause of the new act, if any person, so
riotously assembled, begin even before proclamation to
pull down any church, chapel, meeting-house, dwelling-
house, or out-houses, they shall be felons without benefit
of clergy.
Riots, routs, and unlawful assemblies, must have three
persons at least to constitute them. An unlanrful assem¬
bly is, when three, or more, do assemble themselves to¬
gether to do an unlawful act, as to pull down inclo¬
sures, to destroy a warren or the game therein; and
part without doing it, or making any motion to-wards
it. A rout is where three or more meet to do an unlaw¬
ful act upon a common quarrel, as forcibly breaking
down fences upon a right claimed of common, or of
way, and make some advances towards it, A riot is
where three or more actually do an unlawful act of vio¬
lence, either with or without a common cause or quar¬
rel ; as if they beat a man ; or hunt and kill game in
another’s park, chase, warren, or liberty; or do any
other unlawful act with force and violence ; or even do
a lawful act, as removing a nuisance, in a violent and
tumultuous manner. The punishment of unlawful as¬
semblies, if to the number of 12, we have just now seen,
may be capital, according to the circumstances that at¬
tend it; but, from the number of three to eleven, is by
fine and imprisonment only. The same is the case in
riots and routs by the common law; to which the pil¬
lory in very enormous cases has been sometimes super-
added. And by the statute IS Hen. IV. c. ?. any two
justices, together with the sheriff or under-sheriff of the
county, may come with the possi cornitatus, if need be,
and suppress any such riot, assembly, or rout, arrest the
rioters, and record upon the spot the nature and circum¬
stances of the whole transaction ; which record alone
shall be a sufficient conviction of the offenders. In the
interpretation of which statute it hath been holden, that
all persons, noblemen and others, except women, cler¬
gymen, persons decrepit, and infants under 15, are
bound to attend the justices in suppressing a riot, upon
pam of fine and imprisonment; and that any battery,
wounding, or killing the rioters, that may happen in
suppressing the riot, is justifiable. So that our ancient
law, previous to the modern riot-act, seems pretty well
to have guarded against any violent breach of the pub¬
lic peace; especially as any riotous assembly on a public
or general account, as to redress grievances or pull down
all inclosures, and also resisting the king’s forces if sent
to keep the peace, may amount to overt acts of high
treason, by levying war against the king.
RII EN, a sea-port town of Denmark,, in North Jut¬
land, and capital of a diocese of the same name, with a
bishop s see, a good harbour, a castle, two colleges, and
a public library. The tombs of several of the kings of
Denmark are in toe cathedral church, which is a very
handsome structure. The harbour, which has contri¬
buted greatly to the prosperity of this place, is at a
small distance, being seated at the mouth of the river
Nipsaa, in a country which supplies the best beeves in Ripen.
Denmark. It is 45 miles north-west of Sleswick and
25 south-by-west of Wiburg. E. Long. 8. 94'. N. Lat.
55.25. The diocese is bounded on the north by those ~ *
of Wiburg and Athuys, on the south by the duchy of
Sleswick, and oft the east and west by the sea.
RIPENING of Grain, means its arriving to matu¬
rity. The following paper, which appeared in the first
volume of the Transactions of the Royal Society of E-
dinburgh, may be worthy the attention of farmers in
this country ; where it frequently happens, from conti¬
nued rains, that the corn is quite green when the frost
sets in ; in consequence of which, the farmers cut it
down, without thinking it can possibly arrive at further
maturity.
“ Summer 1782 having been remarkably cold and
unfavourable, the harvest was very late, and much of
the grain, especially oats, was green even in October,
In the beginning of October the cold was so great, that,
in one night, there was produced on ponds near Kinneil,
in the neighbourhood of Borrowstounness, ice three
quarters of an inch thick. It was apprehended by many
farmers, that such a degree of cold would effectually
prevent the further filling and ripening of their corn.
In order to ascertain this point, Dr Roebuck selected
several stalks of oats, of nearly equal fulness, and imme¬
diately cut those which, on the most attentive compari¬
son, appeared the best, and marked the others, but al¬
lowed them to remain in the field 14 days longer; at
the end of which time, they too were cut, and kept in
a dry room for 10 days. The grains of each parcel
were then weighed ; when 11 of the grains which had
been left standing in the field were found to be equal in
weight to SO of the grains which had been cut a fort¬
night sooner, though even the best of the grains were
far from being ripe. During that fortnight (viz. from
October 7th to October 21st) the average heat, according
to Fahrenheit’s thermometer, which was observed every
day at eight o’clock in the morning and six in the even¬
ing, was a little above 43. Dr Roebuck observes, that
this ripening and filling of corn in so low a temperature
should be the less surprising to us, when we reflect, that
seed-corn will vegetate in the same degree of heat j and
he draws an important inference from his observations,
viz. That farmers should be cautious of cutting down
their unripe corn, on the supposition that in a cold au¬
tumn it could fill no more.”
A writer in the Scots Magazine for June 1792> under
the signature of Agricola, when speaking on this subject,
adds the following piece of information, viz. “ That
grain cut down before it is quite ripe will grow or spring
equally well as ripe and plump grain, provided it is pro¬
perly preserved. I relate this from a fact, and also on
the authority of one of the most judicious and experien¬
ced farmers in this island, William Craik of Arbigland,
Esq. near Dumfries, who was taught by such a season
as this threatens to prove. This being the case, every
wise economical farmer will preserve his ripe and plump
grain for bread, and sow the green and seemingly shri¬
velled grain, with a perfect conviction that the plants
proceeding from such seed will yield as strong and thri¬
ving corn as what grows from plump seed. By this
means the farmer will enjoy the double advantage of
having the corn most productive in flour for bread, and
his light shrivelled grain will go much farther in seed
than.
. . . /
ms [ 38 1 RIS
’Ripening £jiar, the plump grain would do. I saw the experiment
Of Gram. mH(]e on which was so shrive'led that it was
Risible, thought scarcely worth giving to fowls, and yet pro-
daced heavy large ears.”
RIPHOEAN mountains, are a chain of high
mountains in Russia, to the north-ea-t of the river Oby,
where there are said to be the finest sables of the whole
empire.
Ill PH AT Id, or Riphat, second son of Corner,
and grandson of Japhet (Gen. x. 3. fis'"' Riphat). In
most copies he is called Riphalh in the Chronicles
(l Chr. i. 6. nm Riphat). The resemblance of the
two Hebrew letters n Resh and "r Ralelk is so much
that they are very often confounded. But, to the cre¬
dit of the translators of our English version be it said,
that in this instance, as well as in many others, they
have restored the original reading, and rendered it Ri-
phath. The learned are not agreed about the country
that was peopled by the descendants of Riphath. The
Chaldee and Arabic take it for France; Eusebius for
the country of the Sauromala?; the Chronicon Alexan-
drinum for that of the Garamantae; Josephus for Pa-
phlagonia. Mela assures us, that anciently the people
of this province were called Rip halm, or Riphaces;
and in Pithynia, bordering upon Paphlagonia, may be
found the fiver Rhebus, a people called Rhebanles, and
a cant6n of the same name. These reasons have pre¬
vailed with Rochart to believe, that Riphath peopled
Paphlagonia. Others think he peopled the Montes
Itiphei; and this opinion seems the most reasonable to
uc, became the other sons of Gomer peopled the north¬
ern countries towards Scythia, and beyond the Euxine
sea.
RISIBLE, any thing capable of exciting laughter.
Ludicrous is a general term, signifying, as may ap¬
pear from its derivation, what is playsome, sportive, or
jocular. Ludicrous therefore seems the genus, of which
risible is a species, limited as above to what makes us
laugh.
However easy it may be, concerning any particular
object, to say whether it he risible or not, it seems dif¬
ficult, if at all practicable, to establish any general cha¬
racter, by which objects of that kind may be distin¬
guished trom others. jNor is that a singular case; for,
upon a review, we find (he same difficulty in most of
the articles already handled. There is nothing more
easy, viewing a particular object, than to pronounce
that it is beautiful or ugly, grand or little: but were
we to attempt general rules for ranging objects under
Pilferer.t classes according to these qualities, we should
be much gravelled A sepai'ate, cause increases the dif¬
ficulty of distinguishing risible objects by a general cha¬
racter: all men are not equally affected by risible ob¬
jects, nor the same man at all times; for in high spirits
a thing w'ill make him laugh outright, which will scarce¬
ly provi;ke_a smile in a grave mood. Risible objects,
however, are circumscribed within certain limits. No
object is risible but w hat appears slight, little, or trivial;
for we laugh at nothing that is of importance to our
own interest or to that of others. A real distress raises
pity, and therefore cannot be risible ; but a slight or
imaginary distress, which moves not pity, is risible.
The adventure of the fulling-mills in Don Quixote, is
extremely risible; so is the scene where Sancho, in a
idffjk night, tumbling into a nit, and attaching himself
to the side by hand and fo t, hangs there in terrible dis¬
may till the morning, when lie discovers himself to be
w ithin a foot of the bottom. A nose remarkab y long
or short, is risible; but to want it altogether, so far
from provoking laughter, raises horror in the spectator.
With respect to works both of nature and art, none of
them are risible but what are out of rule ; some remark¬
able defect or excess, a very long visage, for example,
or a very short one. hferree nothing just, proper, de¬
cent, beautiful, proportioned, or grand, is risible.
Even from this slight sketch it will be readily conjec¬
tured, that the emotion raised by a risible object is of a
nature sosingular,asscarctly to find placewhile the mind
is occupied with any other passion or emotion ; and the
conjecture is verified by experience; for w’e scarce ever
find that emotion blended with any other. One emo¬
tion w’e must except; and that is, contempt raised by
certain improprieties: every improper act inspires us
with some degree of contempt for the author; and if an
improper act be at the same time risible to provoke
laughter, of which blunders and absurdities are noted
instances, the two emotions of contempt and of laughter
unite intimately in the mind, and produce externally
w hat is termed a laugh (rf derision or of scorn. Hence
cbjectstbat cause laughter may bedistinguished into two
kinds : they are either risible or ridiculous. A risible
object is mirthful only; a ridiculous object is both mirth¬
ful and contemptible. The first raises an emotion of
laughter that is altogether pleasant: the pleasant emo¬
tion of laughter raised by the other, is blended with the
painful emotion of contempt ; and the mixed emotion is
termed the emotion of ridicule. The pain a ridiculous
object gives me, is resented and punished by a laugh of
derision. A risible object, on the other hand, gives me
no pain : it is altogether pleasant by a certain sort of
titillation, which is expressed externally by mirthful
laughter. See Ridicule.
Risible objects are so common, and so well under¬
stood, that it is unnecessary to consume paper or time
upon them. Take the few following examples:
Falstaff. I do remember him at Clement’s inn, like
a man made after supper of a cheese-paring. When he
was naked, he was, for all the world like a fo ked radish,
-with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.
Second Fart, Henri/1V- act iu- sc 5.
The foregoing is of disproportion. The following
examples are of slight or imaginary misfortunes.
. Fulstaff. Go fetch me a quart of sack, put a toast
in’t. Have I liv’d to he carried in a basket, like a bar¬
row of butcher’s offal, and to be thrown into the
Thames ! Well, if I be served such another trick, ]’j]
have my brains ta’en out and butter’d, ami give them
to a dog for a new-year’s gift. The rogues slighted
me rnto the river- with as little remorse as they w’ould
have drown'd a bitch’s blind puppies, fifteen i’th’ht-
ter ; and you may know by my s.ze that I have a kind
of alacrity rn sinking; if the bottom were as deep as
hell, I should down. I had been drown’d, but that the
shore was shelvy and shallow ; a death that I abhor :
for the water sw ells a man ; and what a thing should I
have been when I had been swell’d? I should have been
a meuntsjn oi mummy.
Merry Wives of Windsor, act iii. sc. 15.
Falstajf.
Risible.
f
HIT [ 39 1 II I V
Hisible, Fahlaff. Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what
j have suffer’d to living this woman to evil for your
good. Being thus cramm'd in the basket, a couple of
Ford’s knaves, his hinds, were call’d forth by their
mistress, to carry me in the name of foul clothes to
Datchet-lane. They took roe on their shoulders, met
the jealous knave their master in the door, who ask’d
them once or twice what they had in their basket. I
quak’d for fear, lest the lunatic knave would have
search’d it; but Fate, ordaining he should be a cuc¬
kold, held his hand. Well, on went he for a search,
and away went I for foul clothes. But mark the se¬
quel, Master Brook. I suffer’d the pangs of three
egregious deaths : first, an intolerable fright, to be
detected by a jealous rotten bell-wether; next, to be
compass’d like a good bilbo, in the circumference of a
peck, hilt to point, heel to head ; and then to be stopt
in, like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that
fretted in their own grease. Think of that, a man of
my kidney; think of that, that am as subject to heat
as butter ; a man of continual dissolution and thaw ; it
was a miracle to ’scape suffocation. And in the height
of this bath, when I was more than half stew’d in
grease, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the
Thames, and cool’d glowing hot, in that surge, like a
horse-shoe; think of that; hissing hot; think of that,
Mr Brook.
Merry Wives of Windsor, act iii. sc. 17-
RITE, among divines, denotes the particular man¬
ner of celebrating divine service in this or that ccun- Rite-
try. II
LI 1OLNELLO, or Repeat, in Music, the burden
of a song, or the repetition of the first or other verses of
a song at the end of each couplet.
. RI FI ERHUSIUS, Conrad, a learned German
civilian, born at Brunswick in 1 560. He was profes¬
sor of civil law at Altdorf, and published a variety of
works, particularly as a civilian ; together with an edi¬
tion of Oppian in Greek and Latin: he was moreover
an excellent critic ; his notes upon many eminent au¬
thors having been inserted in the best editions of them.
He died in l6lS.
RITUAL, a book directing the order and man¬
ner to be observed in performing divine service in a
particular church, diocese, or the like. The ancient
heathens had also their rituals, which contained their
rites and ceremonies to be observed in building a city,
consecrating a temple or altar, in sacrificing, and dei¬
fying, in dividing the curiae, tribes, centuries, and,
in general, in all their religious ceremonies. There
are several passages in Cato’s books. Be re Rustica,
which may give us some idea of the rituals of the an¬
cients.
RIVAL, a term applied to two or more persons who
have the same pretensions; and which is properly ap¬
plied to a competitor in love, and figuratively to an an¬
tagonist in any other pursuit.
RIVE K,
1
definition.
2
Utility of
livers.
3
Origin of
their
names.
T S a current of fresh water, flowing in a Bed or Chan-
nel from its source to the sea.
The term is appropriated to a considerable collection
of waters, formed by the conflux of two or more Brooks,
which deliver into its channel the united streams of se¬
veral Rivulets, which have collected the supplies of
many Rills trickling down from numberless springs,
and the torrents which carry off from the sloping
grounds the surplus of every shower.
Rivers form one of the chief features of the surface
of this globe, serving as voiders of all that is imme¬
diately redundant in our rains and springs, and also
as boundaries and barriers, and even as highways,
and in many countries as plentiful storehouses. They
also fertilize our soil by laying upon our warm fields
the richest mould, brought from the high mountains,
where it would have remained useless for want of genial
heat.
Being such interesting objects of attention, every
branch acquires a proper name, and the whole acquires
a sort of personal identity, of which it is frequently
difficult to find the principle; for the name of the
great body of waters which discharges itself into the
sea is traced backwards to one of the sources, while
all the contributing streams are lost, although their wa¬
ters form the chief part of the collection. And some¬
times the feeder in which the name is preserved is small¬
er than others which are united to the current, and
which like a rich but ignoble alliance lose their name
in that of the more illustrious family.. Some rivers in4
deed are respectable even at their birth, coming at once
in force from some great lake. Such is the Rio de la
I lata, the river St Laurence, and the mighty streams
which issue in all directions from the Baical lake. But,
like the sons of Adam, they are all of equal descent, and
should take their name from one of the feeders of these
lakes. This is indeed the case with a few, such as the
Rhone, the Rhine, the Nile, dhese, after having mixed
their waters with those of the lake, resume their ap¬
pearance and their name at its outlet.
But in general their origin and progress, and even 4.
the features of their character, bear some resemblance Origin and
(as has been prettily observed by Pliny) to the life of progre*s si"
man The river springs from the earth; but its origin £e Ufetf
is in heaven. Its beginnings are insignificant, and its man.
infancy is frivolous ; it plays among the flowers of a
meadow; it waters a garden, or turns a little mill
Gathering strength in its youth, it becomes wild and
impetuous. Impatient of the restraints which it still
meets with in the hollows among the mountains, it is
restless and fretful; quick in its turnings., and unsteady
in its course. Now it is a roaring cataract, tearing
up and overturning whatever opposes its progress, and
it shoots headlong down from a r0ck : then it becomes
a sullen and gloomy pool, buried in the bottom of a
glin. Recovering breath by repose, it again dashes
along, till tired of the uproar and mischief, it quits all
that it has swept along, and leaves the opening of the
valley strewed with the rejected waste. Now, quitting
its retirement, it comes abroad into the world, jour¬
neying
s
The reli¬
gious re¬
spect for
rivers.
G
The effect
of grati¬
tude and
affection.
E I V
neying with more prudence and discretion, through cul¬
tivated fields, yielding to circumstances, and winding
round what would trouble it to overwhelm or remove.
It passes through the populous cities and all the busy
haun s of man, tendering its services on every side, and
becomes the support and ornament ot the country.
Now increased byT numerous alliances, and advanced in
its course of existence, it becomes grave and stately in its
motions, loves peace and quiet; and in majestic silence
rolls on its mighty waters, till it is laid to rest in the
vast abyss.
The philosopher, the real lover of wisdom, sees much
to admire in the economy and mechanism of running
waters ; and there are few operations of nature which
give him more opportunities of remarking the nice ad¬
justment of the most simple means for attaining many
purposes of most extensive beneficence. All mankind
se ems to have felt this. The heart of man is ever open
(unless perverted by the habits of selfish indulgence
and arrogant self-conceit) to impressions of gratitude
and love. He who ascribes the religious principle (de¬
based though it be by the humbling abuses of su¬
perstition) to the workings of fear alone, may betiviy
ihe slavish meanness of his own mind, but gives a very-
unfair and a false picture of the hearts of his neigh¬
bours. Lucretius was but half a philosopher when he
penned his often quoted apophthegm. Indeed his own
invocation shows how much the animal was blended with
the sage.
We apprehend, that whoever will read with an ho¬
nest and candid mind, unbiassed by licentious wishes,
the accounts of the ancient superstitions, will acknow¬
ledge that the amiable emotions of the human soul
have had their share in creating the numerous divinities
whose worship filled up their kalendars. The sun and
the host of heaven have in all ages and nations been
the objects of a sincere worship. Next to them, the
rivers seem to have attracted the grateful acknow¬
ledgments of the inhabitants of the adjacent coun¬
tries. They have everywhere been considered as a
sort of tutelar divinities ; and each little district, every
retired valley, had its river god, who was preferred
to all others with a partial fondness. The expostula¬
tion of Naaman the Syrian, who was offended with the
prophet for enjoining him to wash in the river Jordan,
was the natural effusion of this attachment. “ What!
(said he), are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Da¬
mascus, more excellent than all the waters of Judea?
Might I not wash in them and be clean ? So he went
away wroth.”
In those countries particularly, where the rural la¬
bours, and the hopes of the shepherd and the husband¬
man, were not so immediately connected with the ap¬
proach and recess ot the sun, and depended rather on
what happened in a far distant country by the tails of
periodical rains or the melting of collected snows, the
Nile, the Ganges, the Indus, the river of Pegu, were
the sensible agents of nature in procuring to the inha¬
bitants of theii teitiie banks ail their abundance, and
they became the objects of gratef ul veneration. Their
sources were sought out witli anxious care even by
conquering princes ; and when found, were universally
worshipped with the most affecdonatedevotion. These
remarakable rivers, so eminently and so p jpablv bene¬
ficent, preserve to this day, amidst every change of ha-
E 11
bit, and every increase of civilization and improvement, Hlstory.
the fond adoration of the inhabitants of these fruitful
countries through w hich they hold their stately course,
and their waters are still held sacred. No progress of
artificial refinement, not all the corruption of luxurious
•sensuality, has been able to eradicate this plant of na¬
tive growth from the heart of man. The sentiment is
cong' nial to his nature, and therefore it is universal ;
and we could almost appeal to the feelings of every rea¬
der, whether he does not perceive it in his own breast.
Perhaps we may be mistaken in our opinion in the case
of the corrupted inhabitants of the populous and busy-
cities, who are habituated to the fond contemplation of
their own individual exertions as the sources of all their
hopes. Give the shoemaker butleatherand a few tools,
and he defies the powers of nature to disappoint him ;
but the simpler inhabitants of the country, the most
worthy and the most respectable part of every nation,
after equal, perhaps greater exertion both of skill and
of industry, are more accustomed to resign themselves
to the great ministers of Providence, and to look up to
heaven for the “ early and the latter rains,” without
which all their labours are fruitless.
 —extrema per illos
Niimenque exccdens lerris vestigia fecit.
And among the husbandmen and the shepherds of all
nations and ages, we find the same fond attachment to
their springs and rivulets.
Fortunate senex, hie inter fumina nota
Etfontes saci osJrigus captains opacum,
was the mournful ejaculation of poor Meliboeus. We
hardly know a river of any note in our own country
whose source is not looked on with some respect.
We repeat our assertion, that this worship was the
offspring of affection and gratitude, and that it is giving
a very unfair and false picture of the human mind to
ascribe these superstitions to the working of fear alone.
These would have represented the river gods as seated
on ruins, brandishing rooted-up trees, with angry looks,
pouring out their sweeping torrents. But no such
thing. The lively imagination of the Greeks felt, and
expressed with an energy unknown to all other nations,
every emotion of the human soul. They figured the
Naiads as beautiful nymphs, patterns of gentleness and
of elegance. These are represented as partially attach¬
ed to the children of men; and their interference in hu¬
man affairs is always in acts of kind assistance and pro¬
tection. They resemble, in this respect, the rural dei¬
ties ot the northern nations, the fairies, but without
their caprices and resentments. And if we attend to
the descriptions and representations of their River-
Gons, beings armed with power, an attribute which
slavish fear never fails to couple with cruelty and ven¬
geance, we shall find the same expression of affectionate
trust and confidence in their kind dispositions. They
are generally called by the respectable but endearing
name oijathtr. “ Dxi Tyberi pater’’ says Virgil. Mr
Bruce says that the Nile at its source is called the abay
or “ father.” We observe this word, or its radix,
blended with many names of rivers of the east; and
think it probable that when our traveller got this name
irom the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, they applied
to the stream what is meant to express the tutelar or
presiding
E I V E 11. 4l
History.1 presiding spirit. The river gods are ahvays represented
w-y-W as venerable old men^ to indicate their being coeval
with the world. But it is always a cruda viriaisquc se-
nectus, and they are never represented as oppressed with
age and decrepitude. Their beards are long and flow¬
ing, their looks placid, their attitude easy, reclined on a
bank, covered, as they are crowned, with never-fading
sedges and bulrushes, and leaning on their urns, from
which they pour out their plentiful and fertilizing streams.
—Mr Bruce’s description of the sources of the Nile,
and of the respect paid to the sacred waters, has not a
frowning feature; and the hospitable old man, Avith
his fair daughter Irepone, and the gentle priesthood
which peopled the little village of Geesh, form a con¬
trast Avith the neighbouring Galla (among whom a mi¬
litary leader Avas called the lamb, because he did not
murder pregnant women), which very clearly paints the
inspiring principle of this superstition. Pliny says (lib.
viii. S.) that at the source of the Clitumnus there is an
ancient temple highly respected. The presence and
the poAver of the divinity are expressed by the fates
which stand in the A^estibule.—Around this temple
are several little chapels, each of which covers a sa¬
cred fountain; for the Clitumnus is the father of se¬
veral little rivers Avhich unite their streams with him.
At some distance below the temple is a bridge which
divides the sacred Avaters from those which are open to
common use. No one must presume to set his foot in
the streams above this bridge; and to step over any of
them is an indignity Avhich renders a person infamous.
They can only be visited in a consecrated boat. Be-
Ioav the bridge we are permitted to bathe, and the
place is incessantly occupied by the neighbouring vil¬
lagers. See also Vibius Sequeslr. Orbcliiii, p. 10] —
J0 ->. and 221—223, also Suelvn. Caligula, c. 43. Virg.
Georg, ii. 146.
What is the cause of all this ? The Clitumnus flows
(near its source) through the richest pastures, through
Avhich it Avas carefully distributed by numberless drains;
and these nourished cattle of such spotless whiteness and
extraordinary beauty, that they were sought for with
eagerness over all Italy, as the most acceptable victims
in their sacrifices. Is not this superstition then an ef¬
fusion of gratitude ?
Such are the dictates of kind-hearted nature in our
breasts, before it has been vitiated by vanity and self-
conceit, and we should not be ashamed of feeling the
impression. We hardly think of making any apology
for dwelling a little on this incidental circumstance of
the superstitious veneration paid to rivers. We cannot
think that our readers will be displeased at having
agreeable ideas excited in their minds, being always of
opinion that the torch of true philosophy will not only
enlighten the understanding, but also warm and cherish
^ the affections of the heart.
)rigin of With respect to the origin of rivers, Ave have very
ivers. little to offer in this place. It is obvious to every per¬
son, that besides the torrents which carry down into the
rivers what part of the rains and melted snows is not
absorbed by the soil or taken up by the plants which
cover the earth, they are fed either immediately or re¬
motely by the springs. A few remarkable streams rush
at once out of the earth in force, and must be consi¬
dered as the continuation of subterraneous rivers, whose
origin Ave are therefore to seek out; and we do not
Voi. XVIII. Parti.
know any circumstance in which flieir first beginnings History,
differ from those of other rivers, which are formed by
the union of little streams and rills, each of which has
its own sou fee in a spring or fountain. This question,
therefore. What is the process of nature, and what are
the supplies which fill our springs? Avid be treated of
under the word Spring.
Whatever be the source of rivers, it is to be met
with in almost every part of the globe. The crust of
earth with which the rocky framing of this globe is
covered is generally stratified. Some of these strata are
extremely pervious to vvater, having but small attraction
for its particles, and being very porous. Such is the
quality of gravelly strata in an eminent degree. Other
strata are much more firm, or attract water more strong¬
ly, and refuse it passage. This is the case with firm
rock and with clay. When a stratum of the first kind
has one of the other immediately under it, the Avater re¬
mains in the upper stratum, and bursts out wherever the
sloping sides of the bills cut off the strata, and this will
be the form of a trickling spring, because the Avater in
the porous stratum is greatly obstructed in its passage
towards the outlet. As this irregular formation of the
earth is very general, we must have springs, and of
course rivers or rivulets, in every corner Avhere there
are high grounds. s
Rivers flow from the higher to the Ioav grounds. It They flofr
is the arrangement of this elevation which distributes from the
them over the surface of the earth. And this appears higher to
to be accomplished with considerable regularity ; and, tlle 1(n' cr
except the great desert of Kobi on the confines of Chi- 01:01111
nese Tartary, we do not remember any very extensive
tract of ground that is deprived of those channels for
voiding the superfluous waters ; and even there they are
far from being redundant. 9
The courses of rivers give us the best general method Course of
for judging of the elevation of a country. Thus it the rivers »f
appears that Savoy and Switzerland are the highest liur«Pc>
grounds of Europe, from whence the ground slopes in
every direction. From the Alps proceed the Danube
and the Rhine, whose courses mark the two great val¬
leys, into which many lateral streams descend. The
Po also and the Rhone come from the same head, and
Avith a steeper and shorter course find their way to the
sea through valleys of less breadth and length. On
the west side of the valleys of the Rhine and the
Rhone the ground rises pretty fast, so that few tribu¬
tary streams come into them from that side; and from
this gentle elevation France slopes to the AvestAvard. If
a line, nearly straight, but bending a little to the north¬
ward, be drawn from the head of Savoy and Switzer¬
land all the way to Solikamskoy in Siberia, it will
nearly pass through the most elevated part of Europe;
for in this tract most of the rivers have their rise. On
the left go off the various feeders of the Elbe, the
Oder, the Wesel, the Niemen, the Duna, the Neva,
the Dwina, the Petzora. On the right, after passing
the feeders of the Danube, we see the sources of the
Sereth and Pruth, the Dniester, the Bog, the Dnie¬
per, the Don, and the mighty Volga. The elevation,
however, is extremely moderate : and it appears from
the levels taken with the barometer by the Abbe Chappe
d’Auteroche, that the head of the Volga is not more
than 470 feet above the surface of the ocean. And
we may observe here by the bye, that its mouth, where
t F it
43
E I V E R.
History, ft discharges its waters into the Caspian sea, is undoubt¬
edly lower by many feet, than the surface of the
ocean. See Pneumatics, N° 277« Spain and Fin¬
land, with Lapland, Norway, and Sweden, form two
detached parts, which have little symmetry with the
rest of Em ope.
A chain of mountains begins in Nova Zembla, and
stretches di^e south to near the Caspian sea, dividing
Europe from Asia. About three or four degrees north
of the Caspian sea it bends to the south-east, traverses
western Tartary, and passing between the Tengis and
Zaizan lakes, it then branches to the east and south.
The eastern branch runs to the shores of Korea and
Kamtschatka. The southern branch traverses Turkestan
and Thibet, separating them from India, and at the head
of the kingdom of Ava joins an arm stretching from the
great eastern branch, and here forms the centre of a
very singular radiation. Chains of mountains issue from
it in every direction. Three or four of them keep very
close together, dividing the continent into nairow slips,
which have each a great river flowing in the middle,
•and reaching to the extreme points of Malacca, Cam¬
bodia, and Cochin-china. From the same central point
proceeds another great ridge due east, and passes a little
north of Canton in China. We called this a singular
centre ; for though it sends off so many branches, it is
by no means the most elevated part of the continent.
In the triangle which is included between thefirst south¬
ern ridge (which comes from between the lakes Ten¬
gis and Zaizan), the great eastern ridge, and its branch
which almost unites with the southern ridge, lies the
Boutan, and part of Thibet, and the many little rivers
which occupy its surface flow southward and eastward,
uniting a little to the north of the centre often men¬
tioned, and then pass through a gorge eastward into
China. And it is farther to be observed, that these
great ridges do not appear to be seated on the highest
parts of the country; for the rivers which correspond
to them are at no great distance from them, and receive
their chief supplies from the other sides. This is re¬
markably the case with the great Oby, which runs al¬
most parallel to the ridge from the lakes to Nova Zem¬
bla. It receives its supplies from the east, and indeed
it has its source far east. The higher grounds (if we
except the ridges of mountains which are boundaries)
of the continent seem to be in the country of the Cal-
mucs, about 95° east from London, and latitude 43° or
45° north. It is represented as a fine though sandy
country, having many little rivers which lose themselves
in the sand, or end in little salt lakes. This elevation
stretches north-east to a great distance; and in this
tiact we find the heads of the Irtish, Selenga, and Tun-
guskaia (the great feeders of the Oby), the Olenitz, the
Lena, the ^ ana, and some ot her rivers., wdiich all go off
to the north. On the other side we have the great ri¬
ver Amur, and many smaller rivers, whose names are
not familiar. The Hoangho, the great river of China,
rises on the south side of the great eastern ridge we have
so often mentioned. This elevation, which is a conti¬
nuation of the former, is somewhat of the same com¬
plexion, being very sandy, and at present is a desert of
prodigious extent. It is described, however, as inter¬
spersed with vast tracts of rich pasture ; and we know
that it was formerly the residence of a great nation,
who came south, by the name of Turks, and possessed
themselves of most of the richest kingdoms of Asia. In htfstory
the south-western extremity of this country are found ■“’’"V*'
remains not only of barbaric magnificence, but even of
cultivation and elegance. It was a profitable privilege
granted by Peter the Great to some adventurers to
search these sandy deserts for remains of former opu¬
lence, and many pieces of delicate workmanship (though
not in a style which we would admire) in gold and sil¬
ver were found. Vaults were found buried in the sand
filled with written papers, in a character wholly un¬
known ; and a wall was discovered extending several
miles, built with hewn stone, and ornamented with cor-
niche and battlements. But we are forgetting ourselves,
and return to the consideration of the distribution of the
rivers on the surface of the earth. A great ridge of
mountains begins at the south-east corner of the Euxine
sea, and proceeds eastward, ranging along the south side
of the Caspian, and still advancing unites with the
mountains first mentioned in Thibet, sending off some
branches to the south, which divide Persia, India, and
Thibet. From the south side of this ridge flow the
Euphrates, Tigris, Indus, Ganges. &c. and from the
north the ancient Oxus and many unknown streams.
There is a remarkable circumstance in this quarter of
the globe. Although it seems to be nearest to the
greatest elevations, it seems also to have places of the
greatest depression. We have already said that the
Caspian sea is lower than the ocean. There is in its
neighbourhood another great bason of salt water, the
lake Aral, which receives the waters of the Oxus or
Gishon, which were said to have formerly run into the
Caspian sea. There cannot, therefore, be a g; eat dif¬
ference in the level of these two basons; neither have
they any outlet, though they receive great rivers. There
is another great lake in the very middle of Persia, the
Zare or Zara, which receives the river Hindemend, of
near 250 miles length, besides other streams. There
is another such in Aisia Minor. The sea of Sodom and
Gomorrah is another instance. And in the high coun¬
tries we mentioned, there are manysmall salt lakes, which
receive little rivers, and have no outlet. The lake Zara
in Persia, however, is the only one which indicates a
considerable hollow of the country. It is now ascer¬
tained, by actual survey, that the sea of Sodom is consi¬
derably higher than the Mediterranean This feature
is not, however, peculiar to Asia. It obtains also in
Africa, whose rivers we now proceed to mention. 11
Of them, however, we know very little. The Nile °f
indeed is perhaps belter known than any river out of
Europe ; and ol its source and progress we have given
a full account in a separate article. See Nile.
By the register of the weather kept by Mr Bruce at
Gondar in 1770 and 1771, it appears that the greatest
rains are about the beginning of July. Fie says that at
an average each month after June it doubles its rains.
The calish or canal is opened at Cairo about the 9th
of August, when the river has risen 14 peeks (each 21
inches), and the waters begin to decrease about the
10th of September. Hence we may form a conjecture
concerning the time which the latter employs in coming
tromAb) ssinia. Mr Bruce supposes it 9 days, which sup¬
poses a velocity not ess than 14 feet in a second; a thing
past belief, and inconsistent with all our notions. The
geneial slope of the river is greatly diminished by seve¬
ral great cataracts; and Mr Bruce expressly says, that
he
HIVE E.
4$
Jlistciry. ]jC might have come down from Sennaar to the cataracts
0f Syene in a boat, and that it is navigable for boats
far above Sennaar. He came from Syene to Cairo by
water. We apprehend that no boat would venture
down a stream moving even six feet in a second, and
none could row up it the velocity was three feet. As
the watt rs begin to decrease about the 10th of Septem¬
ber, we must conclude that the water then flowing past
Cairo had left Abyssinia when the rains had gr eatly
abated. Judging in this wray, we must still allow the
stream a velocity of more than six feet Had the first
swell at Cairo been noticed in 1770 or 1771> we might
have gue sed better. The year that Thevenot was in
E' ypt, the first swell of eight peeks was observed
Jan. 28. The cabsh was opened for 14 peeks on Aug, 14.
and the waters began to decrease on Sept. 23 having
risen to 211 pei ks. We may suppose a similar progress
at Cairo corresponding to M. Bruce’s observations at
Gondar and date every thing five days earlier.
W eu derstand that some of our gentlemen stationed
far up the Ganges have had the curiosity to take notes
of the swellings of that river, and compare them with
the overflowings at Calcutta, and that their observations
ere about to be made public. Such accounts are valu¬
able addition - to our practical knowledge, and we shall
no! neglect to insert the information in some kindred
article of this work.
The same mountains which attract the tropical va¬
pours, and produce the fertilizing inundations of the
.Nile, perform the same office to the famous Niger,
whose existence has often been accounted fabulous, and
with whose course we have very little acquaintance.
The researches of the gentlemen of the African associa¬
tion render its existence no longer doubtful, and have
greatly excited the public curiosity. For a farther ac-
eouot of its tract, see Niger.
From the great number, and the very moderate size,
of the rivers which fall into the Atlantic ocean all the
way south of the Gambia, we conclude that the western
shore is the most elevated, and that the mountains are at
no great distance inland. On the other hand, the rivers
at Melinda and Sofala - re of a magnitude which indi¬
cates a much longer course. But of all this we speak
with much uncertainty.
The frame-work (so to call it) of America is better
knovvn, and is singular.
A chain of mountains begins, or at least is found, in
longitude 1 10° we-toi London, and latitude 40° north,
on the northern confines of the kingdom of Mexico,
and stretching southward through that kingd >m, forms
the ridge of the neck of 'and v/hich separates North from
South me’ica, and keeping almost close to the shore,
ranges al ng the whole western coast of South .Ameri¬
ca, terminating at Cape Horn. In its course it sends
oft branches, which alter separating from it for a few
leagues rejoin it a:;ain, inclosing valleys of great extent
from north to south, and of prodigious elevation. In
one of these, under the equatorial sun, stands the city
of Quito, in the mid-t of extensive fields of barley, oats,
wheat, and gardens,containing apples, pears, and goose¬
berries, and in sho.t all the grains and fruits of the
coo'er par's of Europe ; and although the vine is also
there in p rfe tiou, the obve is wanting. Not a dozen
miles from it in the low countries, the sugar-cane, the
indigo, and ad the fruits of the torrid zone, find their
12
tod of A'
merica.
congenial heat, and the inhabitants swelter under a History,
burning sun. At a small distance on the other hand
tower aloft the Pinnacles of Pichincha, Corambourou,
and Chimboracco, crowned with never-meltiog snows.
The individual mountains of this stupenduous range
not only exceed in height all others m the world (if
we except the Peak of Teneriffe, Mount JEtna. and
Mont Blanc) ; but they are set down on a base incom¬
parably more elevated.than any other country. They
cutoff therefore all communication between the Pacific
ocean ar*d the iidand continent; and no rivers are to
be found on the west coast of South America which have
any considerable length of course or body of waters. The
country is drained, like Africa, in the opposite du*ec*
tion. Not 100 miles from the city of Lima, the capi¬
tal of Peru, which lies almost on the sea-shore, and just
at the foot of the high Cordilleras, arises out of a small
lake the Maragnon or .Amazon’s river, which, after run¬
ning northward for about 100 miles, takes an easterly
direction, and crosses nearly the broadest part of South
America, and falls into the great western ocean at Para,
after a course of not less than 3500 miles. In the first
half of its descent it receives a few middle-sized rivers
from the north and from the south it receives the great
river Combos, springing from another lit le lake not 50
miles distant from the head of the Maragnon, and in¬
closing between them a wide extent of country. Then
it receives the Yuta, the Yuerva, the Cuchivara, and
Parana Mire, each of which is equal to the Rhine; and
then the Madeira, which has flowed above 1300 miles.
At their jun lion the breadth is so great, that neither
shore can be seen by a person standing up in a canoe: so
that the united tream must be about six miles broad.
In this majestic form it rolls along at a prodigious rate
through a flat country, covered with impenetrable fo¬
rests, and most of it as yet untrodden by human feet.
Mr Condamine, who came down the stream, says, that
all is silent as the desert, and the wild beasts and num¬
berless birds crowd round the boat, eyeing it as some
animal of which they did not seem afraid. The bed
was cut deep through an equal and yielding soil, which
seemed rich in every part, if he could judge by the ve¬
getation, which was rank in the extreme. What an
addition this to the possib'e population of this globe !
A narrow slip along eacri bank of this mighty river
would equal in surface the whole of Europe, and would
probably exceed it in general fertility ; and although
the velocity in the main stream w as great, he obsesved
that it was extremely moderate, nay almost still, at the
sides; so that in those p frts where the country -was
inhabi’ed by men, the Indians paddled up the river
with peneet ease. Boats couid go from Para to near
the mouth of the Madeira in 38 days, which is near
1200 miles.
Mr Condamine made an observation during his pas¬
sage down the M ragnon, w hich is extremely curious
and in tructive. although it puzzledhim very much. He
observed that the tide was sensible at a va-t distance
from the mouth : It was very considerab'e at the junc¬
tion of the Madeira ; and he supposes that it might have
been ob erved much farther up. This appeared to him
very su» prising, bee use there could be no doubt but
that the surface of the water there was higher by a
great many feet than the surface of the flood of the
Atlantic ocean at the mouth of the river. It was there-
F 2 fore
44
ft I V E It,
History, fore very natural for him to ascribe the tide in the Ma-
ragnon to the immediate action of the moon on its wa¬
ters ; and this explanation was the more reasonable,
because the river extends in the direction of terrestrial
longitude, which by the Newtonian theory is most fa¬
vourable to the production of a tide. Journeying as he
did in an Indian canoe, we cannot suppose that he had
much leisure or conveniency for calculations, and there¬
fore are not surprised that he did not see that even this
circumstance was of little avail in sa small or shallow a
body of water. He carefully noted, however, the times
of high and low water as he passed along. When ar¬
rived at Para, he found not only that the high water
was later and later as we are farther from the mouth,
but he found that at one and the same instant there
were several points of high water between Para and the
confluence of the Madeira, with points of low water in¬
tervening. This conclusion was easily drawn from his
own observations, although he could not see at one
instant the high waters in different places. He had only
to compute the time- of high water at a particular spot,
on the day he observed it at another; allowing, as
usual, for the moon’s change of position. The result
of his observations therefore was, that the surface of
the river was not an inclined plane whose slope was les¬
sened by the tide of flood at the mouth of the river, but
that it was a waving line, and that the propagation of
the tide up the river was nothing different from the pro¬
pagation of any other wave. We may conceive it
clearly, though imperfectly, in this way. Let the place
be noted where the tide happens 12 hours later than at
the mouth of the river. It is evident that there is also
a tide at the very mouth at the same instant; and, since
the ocean tide had withdrawn itself during the time
that the former tide had proceeded so far up the river,
and the tide of ebb is successively felt above as well as
the tide of flood, there must be a low water between
these two high waters.
Newton had pointed out this curious fact, and obser¬
ved that the tide at London-Bridge, which is 43 feet
above the sea, is not the same with that at Gravesend,
but the preceding tide (see Phil. Trans. 67). This will
be more particularly insisted on in another place.
Not far from the head of the Maragnon, the Cordil¬
leras send off a branch to the north-east, which reaches
and ranges along the shore of the Mexicon gulf, and
the Rio Grande de Sta Martha occupies the angle be¬
tween the ridges.
Another ridge ranges with interruption along the
east coast of Terra Firma, so that the whole waters of
this country are collected into the Oroonoko. In like
manner the north and east of Brazil are hemmed in by
mountainous ridges, through which there is no consider¬
able passage ; and the ground sloping backwards, all
the waters of this immense tract are collected from
both sides by many considerable rivers into the great
river Paraguay, or Rio de la Plata, which runs down
the middle of this country for more than 1400 miles,
and falls into the sea through a vast mouth in latitude
35°.
. Thus the whole of South America seems as if it had
been formerly surrounded by a mound, and been a great
bason. The ground in the middle, where the Parana,
the Madeira, and the Plata, take their rise, is an im¬
mense marsh, uninhabitable for its exhalations, and cpiite History,
impervious in its present state.
The manner in which the continent of North Ame¬
rica is watered, or rather drained, has also some peculi¬
arities, By looking at the map, one will observe first of
all a general division of the whole of the best known
part into two, by the valleys in which the beds of the
rivers St Laurence and Missisippi are situated. The
head of this is occupied by a singular series of fresh wa¬
ter seas or lakes, viz. the lakes Superior and Michigan,
which empty themselves into Lake Huron by two ca¬
taracts. This again runs into Lake Erie by the river
Detroit, and the Erie pours its waters into the Onta¬
rio by the famous fall of Niagara, and from the Ontario
proceeds the great river St Laurence.
The ground to the south-west of the lakes Superior
and Erie is somewhat lower, and the middle of the val¬
ley is occupied by the Missisippi and the Missouri, which
receive on both sides a number of smaller streams, and
having joined proceed to the south, under the name
Missisippi. In latitude 37, this river receives into its
bed the Ohio, a river of equal magnitude, and the Che¬
rokee river, which drains all the country lying at the
back of the United States, separated from them by the
ranges of the Apalachian mountains. The Missisippi is
now one of the chief rivers on the globe, and proceeds
due south, till it falls into the Mexican bay through
several shifting mouths, which greatly resemble those
of the Danube and the Nile, having run above 12GO
miles.
The elevated country between this bed of the Mis-
sisippi and St Laurence and the Atlantic ocean is drain¬
ed on the east side by a great number of rivers, some of
which are very considerable, and of long course; be¬
cause instead of being nearly at right angles to the
coast, as in other countries, they are in a great measure
parallel to it. This is more remarkably the case with
Hudson’s river, the Delaware, Patomack, Rapahanoc,
&c. Indeed the whole of North America seems to con¬
sist of ribs or beams laid nearly parallel to each other
from north to south, and the rivers occupy the inter¬
stices. All those which empty themselves into the bay
of Mexico are parallel and almost perfectly straight, un¬
like what are seen in other parts of the world. The
westernmost of them all, the North River, as it is named
by the Spaniards, is nearly as long as the Missisippi.
We are very little informed as yet of the distribu¬
tion of rivers on the north-west coast of America, or
the course of those which run into Hudson’s or Baffin’s
ba.y- 13
The Maragnon is undoubtedly the greatest river in Of the
the world, both as to length of run and the vast body 8reiU rivers,
of water which it rolls along. The other great rivers
succeed nearly in the following order r
Maragnon,
Senegal,
Nile,
St Laurence,
Hoangho,
Rio de la Plata,
Yenisey,
Missisippi
Volga,
Oby,
Amur,
Oroonoko,
Ganges,
Euphrates,
Danube,
Don,
Indus,
Dnieper,
Duina,
&c.
We
RIVER.
Thetry. We have been much assisted in this account of the
^ course of rivers, and their distribution over the globe,
by a beautiful planisphereor map of the world published
by Mr Bode astronomer royal at Berlin. The ranges
of mountains are there laid down with philosophical dis¬
cernment and precision ; and we recommend it to the
notice of our geographers. We cannot divine what has
caused Mr Buffon to say that the course of most rivers
is from ea>t to west or from west to east. No physical
point of his system seems to require it, and it needs only
that we look .at his own map to see its falsity. We
should naturally expect to find the general course of ri¬
vers nearly perpendicular to the line of sea-coast; and
we find it so; and the chief exceptions are in opposition
to Mr Euffon’s assertion. The structure of America is
so particular, that vn-y few of its rivers have their ge¬
neral course in this direction. We proceed now to
consider the motion of rivers; a subject ■which natu¬
rally resolves itself into two parts, theoretical and prac~
tical.
Part I. THEORY of the MOTION of RIVERS and CANALS.
14
npertnnce
' the doc-
ine of the
otion of
vers and
nals.
THE importance of this subject needs no commen¬
tary. Every nation, every country, every city is in¬
terested in it. Neither our wants, our comforts, nor
our pleasure?, can dispense with an ignorance of it. We
must conduct their waters to the centre of our dwel¬
lings ; we must secure ourselves against their ravages;
we must employ them to drive those machines which,
by compensating for our personal weakness, make a few
able to perform the wTork of thousands; we employ
them to water and fertilize our fields, to decorate our
mansions, to cleanse and embellish our cities, to preserve
or extend our demesnes, to transport from county to
county every thing which necessity, convenience, or
luxury, has rendered precious to man : for these pur¬
poses we must confine and govern the mighty rivers,
we must preserve or change the beds of the smaller
streams, draw off from them what shall water our fields,
drive our machines, or supply our house-. We must
keep up their waters for the purposes of navigation, or
supply their places by canals; we must drain our fens,
and defend them when drained; we must understand
their motions, and their mode of secret, slow, but un¬
ceasing action, that our bridges, our wharfs, our dykes,
may not become heaps of ruins. Ignorant how to pro¬
ceed in these daily recurring cases, how often do we see
projects of high expectation and heavy expence fail of
their object, leaving the state burdened with works not
only useless but frequently hurtful ?
This has long been a most interesting subject of study
in Italy, where the fertility of their fields is not more
indebted to their rich soil and happy climate, than to
their numerous derivations from the rivers which tra¬
verse them : and in Holland and Flanders, where their
very existence requires unceasing attention to the waters,
which are every moment ready to swallow up the inha¬
bitants ; and where the inhabitants, having once sub¬
dued this formidable enemy, have made those very wa¬
ters their indefatigable drudges, transporting through
every corner of the country the materials of the most
extensive commerce on the face of this globe.
Suchhaving been our incessant occupations with mo¬
ving waters, we should expect that while the operative
artists are continually furnishing facts and experiments,
the man of speculative and scientific curiosity, excited
by the importance of the subject, would ere now have
made considerable progress in the science; and that the
professional engineer would be daily acting from esta¬
blished principle, and be seldom disappointed in his ex¬
pectations. Unfortunately the reverse of this is near¬
ly the true state of the case; each engineer is obliged
to collect the greatest part of his knowledge from his
own experience, and by many dear-bought lessons, to
direct his future operations, in which he still proceeds
with anxiety and hesitation : for we have not yet ac¬
quired principles of theory, and experiments have not
yet been collected and published by which an empirical
practice might be safely formed. Many experiments of
inestimable value are daily made ; but they remain with
their authors, who seldom have either leisure, ability, or
generosity, to add them to the public stock. 15
The motion of waters has been really so little inves- This science
tigated as yet, that hydraulics may still be called a new f8 yet
study. We have merely skimmed over a few common *ts ^ anc^“
notions concerning the motions of water ; and the ma¬
thematicians of the first order seem to have contented
themselves with such views as allowed them to enter¬
tain themselves with elegant applications of calculus.
This, however, has not been their fault. They rarely
had any opportunity of doing more, for want of a
knowledge of facts. They have made excellent use of
the few which have been given them; but it required
much labour, great variety of opportunity, and great
expence, to learn the multiplicity of things which are
combined even in the simplest cases of water in motion.
These are seldom the lot of the mathematician ; and he
is without blame when he enjoys the pleasures within
his reach, and cultivates the science of geometry in its
most abstracted form. Here he makes a progress which
is the boast of human reason, being almost insured from
error by the intellectual simplicity of his subject. But '
when we turn our attention to material objects, and*
withoot knowing either the size and shape of the ele¬
mentary particles, or the laws which nature has pre¬
scribed for their action, presume to foresee their effects,
calculate their exertions, direct their actions, what must
be the consequence ? Nature shows her independence
with respect to our notions, and, always faithful to the
laws which are enjoined, and of which we are ignorant,
she never fails to thwart our views, to disconcert our
projects, and render useless all our efforts. 16
To wish to know the nature of the elements is vain. Proper
and our gross organs are insufficient for the study. To ni0i'e 11V
suppose what we do not know, and to fancy shapes and vestl°aUon*
sizes at will; this is to raise phantoms, and will pro¬
duce a system, but will not prove a foundation for any
science. But to interrogate Nature herself, study the
laws which she so faithfully observes, catch her, as we
say, in the fact, and thus wrest from her the secret; this
is the only way to become her master, and it is the on¬
ly procedure consistent with good sense. And we see,
tha$
45
Theory.
17
Our igno-
, ranee of the
general
laws of this
motion,
18
and the
causes of it.
RIVE It.
Part I.
that soon after Kep’er detected the laws of the plane¬
tary motions, when Galileo discovered the uniform ae-
celera’ion of gravity, when Paschal discovered the pres¬
sure of the atmo phere. and Newton discovered the laws
of attraction and the tra k of a ray of light; astronomy,
mechanics, hydrostatics, chemistry, optics, quickly be¬
came bodies of sound doctrine ; and the deductio s
from their respective t eories were found fair represen-
tad'ms of the phenomena of nature. Whenever a man
has discovered a law oi nature, e has laid the founda¬
tion of a science, and h * has given us a new mean of
subjecting to our s rvice some element hitherto inde¬
pendent : and so long as groups of natural operations
fol ow a route which appears to us whimsical, and will
not admi our calculations, we may be assured that we
are ignorant of the principle which connects them all,
and regulates their procedure.
This is remarkably the case with several phenomena
in the motions of fluids, and particularly in the motion
of water in a bed or conduit of any kind. Although
the first geniuses of Europe have for this century past
turned much of their attention to this subject, we are
almost ignorant of the general laws which may be ob¬
served in their motions. We have been able to scdect
very few points of resemblance, and every case remains
nearly an individual. About 150 years ago we disco¬
vered, by experience only, the quantity and velocity of
water issuing from a small orifice, and, after much la¬
bour, have extended this to any orifice; and this is al¬
most the whole of our confidential knowledge. But as
to the uniform course of the streams which water the
face of the eanh, and the maxims which will certainly
regulate this agreeably to our wishes, we are in a man¬
ner totally ignorant. W ho can pretend to say what is
the velocity ofa river of which you teil him the breadth,
the depth, and the declivity ? Who can say what swell
will be produced in different parts of its course, if a dam
or weir of giving dimensions be made in it, or a bridge
be thrown across it; or how much its waters will be
raised lay turning another stream into it, or sunk bv ta¬
king off a branch to drive a mill ? Who can say With
confidence what must be the dimensions or slope of this
branch, in order to furnish the water that is wanted, or
the dimensions and slope ofa canal which shall effectu¬
ally drain a fenny district ? Who can say what form
will cause or will prevent the undermining of banks,
the forming of elbows, the pooling of the bed, or the
deposition of s,nds? Yet these are the most important
questions.
.The causes of this ignorance are the want or uncer¬
tainty of our principles ; the fa sity ofour only theory,
which is belied by experience; and the small number
of proper observations or experiments, and difficulty of
making such as shall be erviceable. We have, it is true,
made a lew expei iments on the efflux of water fr’<m
small orifn.es, and fiom them we have deduced a so: t of
theory, dependent on the fail of heavy bodies and the
laws of hydrostatic pressure. Hydro t tics is indeed
founded on very simple principles, which give a very
account of t e Jaws oi the quiescent equilibrium
of fluids, m eo sequence of gravity and perfec fluidity.
But by what train of reasoning can we connect these
with the phenomena of the uniform motion of the wa¬
fers of a river or open stream, which can derive its mo¬
tion only from the slope of its surface, and the modifi- Theory,
cations of this motion or its velocity only from the '-•'y'’*'’
width and depth of the stream ? The.-e a^e the only cir¬
cumstances which can distinguish a portion of a river
from a vessel of the same size and shape, in which, how¬
ever, the water is at rest. In both, gravity is the sole
cau-e of pressure and motion; but there must be some
circumstance peculiar to running waters which modi¬
fies theexertionof this active principle,and which, when
discovered, must be the basis of hydraulics and must
oblige us to reject every heoty foun !e 1 on fancied hy¬
pothesis, and which can only lead to absurd conclu¬
sions: andsurely absur ! consequences,when legitimately
drawn, are complete evidence o1 improper principles.
When it was discovered experimentally, that the ve-
locities of water issuing from orifices at various depths princjpie
under the surface were as the square roots of those on which
depths, and the fact was verified t>y repeated experi- the systems
ments, this principle was immediately and without mo- ofhydran-
difiertion app itd to every motion of water. Mariotte, lcs ‘
Vadgnon, Guglielmini, made it the basis ot complete
systems of hydraulics, which prevail to this day, after
having received various amendments and modifications.
The same reasoning obtains through them all, though
frequently obscured by other circumstances, which are
more perspicuously expressed by Guglielmini in his
Fundamental Theorems.
He considers every point P (fig. 1.) in a mass of Plate
fluid as an orifice in the side of a vessel, and conceives CCCCLXJI
the partic!e as having a tendency to move with the ^
same velocity with which it would issue from the ori¬
fice. Therefore, if a vertical line APC be drawnthrough
that point, and if this be made the axis of a parabolic
ADE of which \ at the surface of the fluid is the
vertex, and AB (four times the height through which
a heavy body would fall in a s cond) is the parameter,
the velocity of this particle will be represented by the
ordinate PD of this parabola ; that is, PD is the space
which it would uniformly describe in a second. §0
From this principle is derived the following theory Theory de-
of running waters. rived from
Let DC (fig. 2.) be the horizontal bottom of a re- ^
servoir, to which is joined a sloping channel CK of uni- lo’
form breadth, and let AB be the surface of the stand¬
ing water in the rese voir. Suppose the vertical plane
BC pierced with an infinity of holes, through each of
which the water issues. The velocity oi’each filament
wdl be that which is acquired by falling from the sur¬
face A B *. 1 he filament C, issuing with this velo ity,
will then glide down the inclined plane like any o- IJl,draulics’
tier heavy body ; arid (by the common doctrine of the ^
ni tion down an iucined p ane) when it has arrived at
h, it will have the same velocity winch it would have
acquired by facing through tne height OF, the point
O being in he horizontal plane AB produced. The
same may be sa;d of its velocity when it arrives at H
or K. I he filament immediately above C will also
issu t with a velocity which is in the subduplicate ratio
ot its depth, and will then glide down above the first
filament. I he same m,;y be affirmed of all the fila¬
ments ; and of the superficial filament, which will oc- 21
cupv the urface o the descending stream. Tlieconse-
From this account of the genesis of a running stream Enftor
o v\a - i, wemay fairly draw the t olio wing consequences. this theory
1. The
See Gu-
glldminVs
Part I,
RIVE ft.
47
Theory.
1. The velocity of any particle R, in any part of
the stream, is that acquired by falling from the horizon¬
tal plane AN.
2. The velocity at the bottom of the stream is every¬
where greater than any where above it, and is least of
all at the surface.
S. The velocity of the stream increases continually as
the stream recedes from its source.
4. The depths EF, GH, &c. in different parts of
the stream, will be nearly in the inverse subduplicate
ratio of the depths under the surface AN : for since
the same quantity of water is running through every
section EF and GH, and the channel is supposed of
uniform breadth, the depth of each section must be in¬
versely as the velocity of the water passing through it.
Thisvelocity is indeed different in different filaments of
the section; but the mean velocity in each secdon is in
the subduplicate ratio of the depth of the filament un¬
der the surface AB. Therefore the stream becomes
more shallow as it recedes from the source; and in con¬
sequence of this the difference between LH and MG
continually diminishes, and the velocities at the bottom
and surface of the stream continually approach to equa¬
lity, and at a great distance from the source they differ
insensibly.
5. It the breadth of the stream be contracted in any
part, the depth of the running water will be increased
in that part, because the same quantity must still pass
through ; but the velocity at the bottom will remain
the same, and that at the surface will be less than it was
before; and the area of the section w ill be increased on
the whole.
6. Should a sluice be put across the stream, dipping
a little into the water, the water must immediately rise
on the upper side of the sluice till it rises above the level
of the reservoir, and the smallest immersion of the sluice
will produce this effect. For, by lowering the sluice, the
area of the section is diminished, and the velocity can¬
not be increased till the water heap up to a greater
height than the surface of the reservior,and this acquires
apressui'e which will produce a greater velocity of efflux
through the orifice left below the sluice.
7. An additional quantity of water coming into this
channel will increase the depth of the stream, and the
quantity of water which it conveys ; but it will not in¬
crease the velocity of the bottom filaments, unless it
comes from a higher source.
22 All these consequences are contrary to experience,
tre all con- and show the imperfection, at least of the explanation,
rary to ex- The third consequence is of all the most con’rary to
>enence. experience. If any one will but take the trouble of
following a single brook from its source to the sea, he
will find it most rapid in its beginnings among the
mountains, gradually slackening its pace as ir winds
among the bills and gentler declivities, and at last
creeping slowly along through the flat grounds, till it
is checked and brought to rest by the tides of the
ocean.
Nor is the second consequence more agreeable to ob¬
servation. It is universally found, that the velocity of
the surface m the middle of the stream is the greaiest
of all, and that it gradually diminishes from thence to
the bot‘om and sides.
And the first consequence, if true, would tender the
running waters on the surface of this earth the instru¬
ments of immediate ruin and devastation. If the wa- Theory,
ters of our rivers, in the cultivated parts of a country,
which are ttvo, three, and four hundred feet longer than
their sources, ran with the velocity due to that height,
they would in a few minutes lay the earth bare to the
very bones.
The velocities of our rivers, brooks, and rills, being
so greatly inferior to what this theory assigns to therr^
the other Consequences are equally contrary to experi¬
ence. When a stream has its section diminished by nar¬
rowing the channel, the current increases in depth, and
this is always accompanied by an increase of velocity
through the whole of the section, and most of all at the
surface ; and the area of the section does not increase,
but diminishes, all the phenomena, thus contradicting in
every circumstance the deduction from the theory ; and
when the section has been diminished by a sluice let
down into the stream, the water gradually heaps up on
the upper side of the sluice, and, by its pressure, pro¬
duces an acceleration of the stream below the sluice, in
the same way as if it were the beginning of a stream, as
explained in the theory. The velocity row is com¬
posed of the velocity preserved from the source and the
velocity produced by this subordinate accumulation ;
and this accumulation and velocity continually increase
till they become such that the whole supply is again
discharged through this contracted section: any addi¬
tional water not only increases the quantity carried
along the stream, but also increases the velocity, and
therefore the section does not increase in the proportion
of the quantity.
It is surprising that a theory really founded on a con- rpjiC ,^01T
ceit, and which in every the most familiar and obvious however, *
circumstances is contradicted by facts, should have met has been
with so much attention. That Varignon should imme- generally
dlately catch at this notion of Guglielmini, and make it ^.^‘owei*
the subject of many elaborate analytical memoirs, is not the suh-
to be wondered at. This author only wanted donner ject,
prise cm calcul; and it w'as a usual joke among the aca¬
demicians of Paris, when any new theorem was invented,
donnons le a Varignon d generaliser. But his numerous
theorems and corollaries were adopted by all, and still
make the substance ot the present systems of hydraulics.
Gravesande, Muschenbroek,andall the elementary trea¬
tises of natural philosophy, deliver no other doctrines ;
and Beliclor, who has been considered as the first of all
the 'cientific engineers, details the same theory in his
great work the Architecture Hjdrauliqiie. 74
Guglielmini was, however, not altogether the dupe t!,0USh
o! his own ingenuity. He was not only a pretty good
mathematician, but an assiduous and sagaciousobserver. nious saw
He had applied his theory to some important cases its defects,
which occurred in the course of his profession as in- nnd at’
spector of the rivers and canals in the Milanese, and to temPted t0'
the course of the Danube; and could not but perceive them5
that great corrections were necessary for making the
theory quadrate in some tolerable manner with obser¬
vation ; and he immediately saw that the motion was
greatly obstructed Uy inequalities of the canal, which
gave to the contiguous filaments of the stream trans¬
verse motions, which thwarted and confused the regular
progress of the rest of the stream, and thus checked
its general progress. These obstructions, he observed,
were most effectual in the beginning of its coarse, while
yet a small rill, running among stones, and in a very
unequal,
I
11 I V
unequal bed. Tlie whole stream beinjj small, the ine¬
qualities bore a great proportion to it, and thus the ge¬
neral effect was great. He also saw that the same cau¬
ses (these transverse motions produced by the unequal
bottom) chiefly affect the contiguous filaments, and
were the reasons why the velocity at the sides and bot¬
tom was so much diminished as to be less than the su¬
perficial velocity, and that even this might come to be
diminished by the same cause. For he observed, that
the general stream of a river is frequently composed of
a sort of boiling or tumbling motion, by which masses
of water are brought up to the surface and again de¬
scend. Every person must recollect such appearances
in the freshes of a muddy river •; and in this way Gu-
glielminiwas enabled to account insome measure for the
disagreement of his theory with observation.
Marriotte had observed the same obstruction even
in the smoothest glass pipes. Here it could not be
ascribed to the checks occasioned by transverse motions.
He therefore ascribedit to friction, which he supposed to
diminish the motion of fluid bodies in the same manner
as of solids : and he thence concludes, that the filaments
which immediately rub on the sides of the tube have
their velocity gradually diminished, and that the fila¬
ments immediately adjoining to these, being thus obli¬
ged to pass over them or outstrip them, rub upon them
and have their own velocity diminished in like manner,
but in a smaller degree ; and thatthe succeeding fila¬
ments towards the axis of the tube suffer similar but
smaller diminutions. By this means the whole stream
may come to have a smaller velocity; and at any
rate the medium velocity by which the quantity dis¬
charged is determined, is smaller than it would have
been independent of friction.
Gugiielmini adopted this opinion of Mariotte, and in
his next work on the Motion of Rivers, considered this
as the c/u’e/1 cause of the retardation; and he added
a third circumstance, which he considered as of no less
consequence, the viscidity or tenacity of water. He ob¬
serves that syrup, qjl, and other fluids, where this vis¬
cidity is more remarkable, have their motions prodigi¬
ously retarded by it, and supposes that, water differs
from them only in the degree in which it possesses this
quality ; and lie says, that by this means not only the
particles which are moving more rapidly have theirmo-
tions diminishedby those in their neighbourhood which
move slower, but that the filaments also which would
have moved more slowly are accelerated by their more
active neighbours ; and that in this manner the super¬
ficial and inferior velocities are brought nearer to an
equality. But this will never account for the universal
fact that the sxiperficial particles are the swiftest of all.
The superficial particles, says he, acquire by this means
a greater velocity than the parabolic law' allows them ;
the medium velocity is often in the middle of the depth;
the numerous obstacles continually multiplied and re¬
peated, cause the current to lose the velocity acquired
by the fall; the slope of the bottom then diminishes,
and often becomes veiy small, so that the force remain¬
ing is hardly able to overcome the obstacles which are
still repeated, and the river is reduced almost to a state
of stagnation. He observes, that the Rheno, a river
of the Milanese, has near its mouth a slope of no more
than 5", which he considers as quite inadequate to the
E E.
task ; end here ha introduces another principle, whic^1
he considers as an essential part of the theory of ope11
currents. This is, that there arises from the very depth
of the stream a propelling force which restores a part o^
the lost velocity. He offersnothing inproof of this prin¬
ciple, but uses it to account for and explain the motion
of water in horizontal canals. The principle has been
adopted by the numerous Italian writers on hydraulics,
and, by various contrivances, interwoven with the para¬
bolic theory, as it is called, of Guglielmini. Our readers
may see it in various modifications in the Idrostatica e
Idrnulica of P. Lecchi, and in the Sperienze Jdraulichc
of Michelotti. It is by no means distinct either in its
origin or in the manner of its application to the expla¬
nation of phenomena, and seems only to serve for gi¬
ving something likeconsistencyto thevague andobscure
discussionswhich have been published on this subjectin
Italy. We have already remarked, that in that coun¬
try the subject is particularly interesting, and has been
much commented upon. But the writers of England,
France, and Germany, have not paid so much attention
to it, and have more generallyoccupied themselves with
the motion of water in close conduits, which seem to
admit of a more precise application of mathematical rea¬
soning.
Some of those have considered with more attenion
the effects of friction and viscidity. Sir Isaac Newton,
with his usual penetration, had seen distinctly the man¬
ner in which it behoved these circumstances to operate.
He had occasion, in his researches into the mechanism
of the celestial motions, to examine the famous hypo¬
thesis of Descartes, that the planets were carried round
the sun by fluid vortices, and saw that there would be
no end to uncertainty and dispute till the modus operundi
of these vortices were mechanically considered. He
therefore employed himself in the investigation of the
manner in which the acknowledged powers of natural
bodies, acting according to the received laws of mecha¬
nics. could produce and preserve these vortices, and re¬
store that motion which was expended in carrying the
planets round the sun. He therefore, in the second
book of the Principles of Natural Philosophy, gives a
series of beautiful propositions, viz. 5f, 52, c. with
their corollaries, showing how the rotation of a cylinder
or sphere round its axis in the midst of a fluid will ex¬
cite a vortical motion in this fluid; and he ascertains
with mathematical precision the motion of every fila¬
ment of this vortex.
He sets out from the supposition that this motion is
excited in the surrounding stratum of fluid in conse¬
quence of a want of perfect lubricity, and assumes as
an hypothesis, tliat the initial resistance (or diminution
of the motion of the cylinder) which arises from this
want of lubricity, is proportional to the velocity with
which the surface of the cylinder is separated from the
contiguous surface of the surrounding fluid, and that
the whole resistance is pioportinal to the velocity with
which the parts of the fluid are mutually separated
fiom enen other. From this, and the equality of ac¬
tion and reaction, it evidently follows, th»t the velocity
of any stratum ot the vortex is the arithmetical medium
between the yelociues of the strata iaamed ate'y within
and without it. For the intermediate strauim cannot
be in equilibrio, unless it is as much pressed forward by
the
Fart I.
Theory.
25
Sir Isaac.
Newton’s
Observa¬
tions on this
subject*.
Part I.
Theory.
2G
Soiree at
all impro¬
ved since
bis time.
II I V E li.
49
the superior motion of the stratum within it, as it is
kept back by the slower motion of the stratum with¬
out it.
This beautiful investigation applies in the most per¬
fect manner to every change produced in the motion of
a fluid filament, in consequence of the viscidity and fric¬
tion of the adjoining filaments ; and a filament proceed¬
ing along a tube at some small distance from the sides
has, in like manner, a velocity which is the medium be¬
tween those of the filaments immediately surrounding
it. It is therefore a problem of no very difficult solu¬
tion to assign the law by which the velocity will gr du¬
ally diminish as the filament recedes from the axis of a
cylindrical tube. It is somewhat surprising that so
neat a problem has never occupied the attention of the
mathematicians during the time that these subjects wore
so assiduously studied ; but so it is, that nothing precise
has been published on the subject. The only approach
to a discussion of this kind, is a Memoir of Mr Pitot,
read to the academy of Paris in 1726', where he consi¬
ders the velocity of efflux through a pipe. Here, by
attending to the comparative superiority of the quantity
vf motion in large pipes, he affirms, that the total dimi¬
nutions arising from friction will be (cceteris paribus') in
the inverse ratio of the diameters This was thank¬
fully received by other writers, and is now a part of
tmr hydraulic theories. It has not, however, been at¬
tended to by those who -write on the motion of rivers,
though it is evident that it is applicable to these with
equal propriety ; and had it been introduc ed, it would
at once have solved all their difficulties, and particular¬
ly would have shown how an almost imperceptible de¬
clivity would produce the gentle motion of a great ri¬
ver, without having recourse to the unintelligible prin¬
ciple of Guglielmini
Mr Couplet made some experiments on the motion of
the water in the great main pipes of Versailles, in order
to obtain some notions of the retardations occasioned by
friction. They were found prodigious : but were so ir¬
regular, arc! unsusceptible of reduction to any general
principle, (and the experiments were indeed so few that
they were unfit for this reduction), that he could esta-
blishno theory.—What Mr Belidor established on them,
and makes a sort of system to direct future engineers, is
quite unworthy of attention.
Upon the whole, this branch of hydraulics, although
of much greater practical importance than the conduct
of water in pipes, has never yet obtained more than a
vague, and, we may call it, slovenly attention from the
mathematicians; and we ascribe it to their not having
taken the pains to settle its first principles with the
same precision as had been done in the other branch.
They were, from the beginning, satisfied with a sort of
applicability of mathematical principles, without ever
making the application. Were it not that some would
accuse us of national partiality, we would ascribe it to
this, that Newton had not pointed out the way in this
as in the other branch. For any intelligent reader of
the performances on the motions of fluids in close ves¬
sels, wall see that there has not a prineq le. nay hardly
a step oi investigation, been added to those which were
used or pointed out by Sir Isaac Newton. He has no¬
where touched this question, the motion of water in an
open canal. In hit, theories of the tides, and of the
propag tion of waves, he had an excellent opportunity
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
for giving at once the fundamental principles of motion Theory,
in a free fhrri whose sirf .ee was not horizontal. But,
by means of some of those happy and shrewd gue-se-,
in which, as Daniel Bernoulli -ays, he excelled all men.
he saw the undoubted consequences of some palpable
phenomenon which would answer all his present pur¬
poses, and therefore entered no farther into the investi¬
gation.
Ihe original theory of Guglielmini, or the principle
adopted by hire, that each particle of the vertical sec¬
tion of a running stream has a tendency to move as if
it were issuing from an orifice at that depth under the
surface, is false; and that it really does so in the face of
a dam when the flood-gate is taken away, is no le-s so ;
and if it did, the subsequent motions wmuld hardly have
any resemblance to those which he assigns them. Were
this the case, the exterior form of the cascade would
be something like what is sketched in fig. 3. with an
abrupt angle at B, and a concave surface BEG. This Fig 3.
will be evident to every one who combines the greater
velocity of the lower filaments with the slower motion
of those which must slide down above them. But this
greater advance of the lower filaments cannot take place
without an expenditure of the water under the surface
AB. The surface therefore sinks, and B instantly
ceases to retain its place in the horizontal plane. The
water does not successively flow forward from A to B,
and then tumble over the precipice; but immediately
upon opening the flood-gate, the water wastes from the
space immediately behind it, and the whole puts on
the form represented in fig. 4. consisting of the curve Fig. 4.
A a P c EG, convex from A to c, and concave from
thence forward. The superficial water begins to acce¬
lerate all the way from A; and the particles may be
supposed (for the present) to have acquired the velocity
corresponding to their depth under the horizontal sur¬
face. This must be understood as nothing more than
a vasme sketch of the motions. It requires a very cri¬
tical and intricate investigation to determine either the
form of the upper curve or the motions of the different
filaments. The place A, where the curvature begins,
is of equally difficult determination, and is various ac¬
cording to the differences of depth and of inclination
of the succeeding canal. 57
We have given this sort of history of the progress Bncer-
which had been made in this part of hydraulics, that tainty°f.
our readers might form some opinion of the manydisser- Vhenlp-0
tations which have been written on the motion of rivers, plied to
and of the state of the arts depending on it. Much of practice ex-
the business of the civil engineer is intimately connected amplified,
with it: and we may therefore believe, that, since there
was so little principle in the theories, there could be but
very little certainty in the practical operations. The
fact has been, that no engineer could pretend to say,
with any precision, what would be the effect of his opera¬
tions. One whose business had given him many oppor¬
tunities, and who kept accurate and judicious registers
of his own works, could pronounce, with some probabi¬
lity, how much water would be brought off by a drain
of certain dimensions and a given slo}ie, whenthecircum-
stances of the case happened to tally with some former
work in which he had succeeded or failed; but out of
the pale of his own experience he could only make a sa¬
gacious guess. A remarkable instance of this occurred
not long ago. A small aqueduct was lately carried into
f G Paris.
50
RIVER
Part I,
Theory.
23
Necessity
Paris. It had been conducted on a plan presented to the
academy, who had corrected it, and gave a report of
what its performance would be. When executed in the
most accurate manner, it was deficient in the proportion
of five to nine. When the celebrated Desaguhers was
employed by the city of Edinburgh to superintend the
bringing in the water for the supply of the city, he guv e
a report on the plan which was to be followed. It was
executed to his complete satisfaction; and the quantity
of water delivered was about one-sixth of the quantity
which he promised, and about one-eleventh of the
quantity which the no less celebrated M'Laurin cal¬
culated from the same plan.
Such being the state of our theoretical knowledge (if
of multiply- jt can pe called by this name), naturalists began to be^
mentspen" persuaded that it was but losing time to make any use of
a theory so in congruous with observation, and that the only
safe method of proceeding was to multiply experiments
in every variety of circumstances, and to make a series of
experiments in every important case, which should com¬
prehend all the practical modifications of that case. Per¬
haps circumstances of resemblance might occur, which ,
would enable us to connect many of them together, and
at last discover the principles which occasioned this con¬
nection ; by which means a theory founded on science
might be obtained. And if this point should not be gain¬
ed, we might perhaps find a few general facts, which are
modified in all these particular cases, in such a manner
that we can still trace the general facts, and see the part
of the particular case which depends on it. This wnuld
be the acquisition of what may be called an empirical
theory, by w hich every phenomenon would be explained,
in so far as the explanation of a phenomenon is nothing
more than the pointing out the general fact or law under
which it is comprehended; and this theory would an¬
swer every practical purpose, because we should confi¬
dently foresee what consequences would resultfrom such
and such premises ; or if we should fail even in this, we
should still have a series of experiments so comprehen¬
sive, that we could tell what place in the series would
correspond to any particular case which might be pro¬
posed.
There are two gentlemen, whose labours in this re¬
spect deserve very particular notice, Professor Michelotti
in this '.yay, at Turin, and Abbe Bossut at Paris. The first made a
prodigious number of experiments both on the motion
of water through pipes and in open canals. They were
performed at the expence of the sovereign, and no ex¬
pence was spared. A tower was built of the finest ma¬
sonry, to serve as a vessel from which the water was
to issue through holes of various sizes, under pressures
from 5 to 22 feet. The wvater wus received into basons
constructed of masonry and nicely lined w ith stucco
from whence it was conveyed in canals of brick-work
lined with stucco, and of various forms and declivities.
The experiments on the expence of wrater through pipes
are of all that have yet been made the most numerous
and exact, and may be appealed to on every occasion.
Those made in open canals are still more numerous,
and are no doubt equally accurate ; but they have not
been so contrived as to be so generally useful, being
in general very unlike the important cases which w7ill
occur in practice, and they seem to have been con¬
trived chiefly with the view7 of establishing or overturn¬
ing certain points of hydraulic doctrine which were pro-.
29
l.abours of
Michelotti
and Bcssut
bably prevalent at the time among the practical hy- Tllewy.
draulists.
The experiments of Bossut are also of both kinds; and
though on a much smaller scale than those of Michelotti,
seem to deserve equal confidence. As far as they follow
the same tract, they perfectly coincide in their results,
which should procure confidence in the other; and they
are made in situations much more analogous to the usual
practical cases. This makes them doubly valuable.
They are to be found in his two volumes intitled Bydro-
dynamique. He has opened this path of procedure in
a manner so new and so judicious, that he has in some
measure the merit of such as shall follow him in the
same path. 30
This has been most candidly and liberallyallowed him and the
by the chevalier de Buat, who has taken up this matter Pr°grf8Sivs
where the abbe Bossut left it, and has prosecuted his j^cs of
experiments with great assiduity; and we must now add jje Buat.
writh singular success. By a very judicious consideration
of the subject, he hit on a particular view of it, which
saved him the trouble of a minute consideration of the
small internal motions, and enabled him to proceed from
a very general and evident proposition, which may be
received as the key to a c< mplete system of practical
hydraulics. We shall follow7 this ingenious author in
what we have farther to say on the subject; and we
doubt not but that our readers w ill think we do a service
to the publicbymaking thesediscussions of the chevalier
de Buat more generally known in this country. It must
not however be expected that w7e shall give more than
a synoptical view of them, connected by such familiar
reasoning as shall be either comprehended or confided
in by persons not deeply versed in mathematical
science.
Sect. I. Theory of Rivers.
31
It is certain that the motion of open streams must, in leading
some respects, resemble that of bodies sliding down in- Prul)0siti°ri'
dined planes perfectly polished ; and that they would
accelerate continually, were they not obstructed: but
they are obstructed, and frequently move uniformly.
This can only arise from an equilibrium between the
forces which promote their descent and those which op¬
pose it. Mr Kuat, therefore, assumes the leading pro¬
position, that.
When water Jloivs uniformly on any channel or bed,
the accelerating force which obliges it to move is equal
to the sum <f alt the resistances which it meets with, whe¬
ther arising from its own viscidity, or from the friction of
its bed.
1 his law is as oldas theformation of rivers,and should
be the key of hydraulic science. Its evidence is clear ;
and it is, at any rate, the basis of all uniform motion.
And since it is so, there must be some considerable ana-
logy between the motion in pipes and in open channels,
loth owe their origin to an inequality of pressure, both
would accelerate continually, if nothing hindered ; and
both are reduced to uniformity by the viscidity of the
fluid and the friction of the channel.
It will therefore be convenient to examine the pheno- The 'subjec
menaot water moving m pipes bythe action of itsweight of the fol-
Oidy along tue sloping channel. But previous to this lowing dis-
we must take some notice of the obst ruction to the entrv cussion pr°
of water into a channel of any kind, arising from the p0Set1,
deflection
! art I.
n I V E E.
5i
|i Theory, deflection of the many different filaments which press
ip-y-"—*' into the channel from the reservoir from every side.
Then we shall be able to separate this diminution of mo¬
tion from the sum total that is observed, and ascertain
what part remains as produced by the subsequent ob¬
structions.
We then shall consider the principle of uniform mo¬
tion, the equilibrium between the power and the re¬
sistance. The power is the relative height of the column
of fluid which tends to move along the inclined plane of
its bed ; the resistance is the friction of the bed, the vis¬
cidity of the fluid, and its adhesion to the sides. Here
are necessarily combined a number of circumstances
which must be gradually detached that we may see the
effect of each, viz. the extent of the bed, its perimeter,
and its slope. By examining the effects produced by
variations of each of these separately, we discover what
share each has in the general effect; and having thus
analysed the complicated phenomena, we shall be able
to combine those its elements, and frame a formula
which shall comprehend every circumstance, from the
greatest velocity to the extinction of all motion, and
from the extent of a river to the narrow dimensions of a
quill. We shall compare this formula with a series of
experiments in all this variety of circumstances, partly
made by Mr Buat, and partly collected from other au¬
thors ; and we shall leave the reader to judge of the
agreement.
Confident that this agreement will be found most
satisfactory, we shall then proceed to consider very cur¬
sorily the chief varieties which nature or art may intro¬
duce into these beds, the different velocities of the same
stream, the intensity of the resistance produced by the
inertia of the materials of the channel, and the force of
the current by which it continually acts on this channel,
tending to change either its dimensions or its form. We
shall endeavour to trace the origin of these great rivers
which spread like the branches of a vigorous tree, and
occupy the surface even of a vast continent. We shall
follow them in their course, unfold all their windings,
study their train and regimen, and point out the law of
its stability ; and we shall investigate the causes of their
deviations and wanderings.
The study of these natural laws pleases the mind: but
it answers a still greater purpose ; it enables us to assist
nature, and to hasten her operations, which our wants
and our impatience often find too slow. It enables us to
command the elements, and to force them to administer
to our wants and our pleasures.
We shall therefore, in the next place, apply the know¬
ledge which we may acquire to the solution of the most
important hydraulic questions which occur in the prac¬
tice of the civil engineer.
We shall consider the effects produced by a permanent
addition to any river or stream by the union of another,
and the opposite effect produced by any draught or offset,
showing the elevation or depression produced up the
stream, and the change made in the depth and velocity
below the addition or offset.
We shall pay a similar attention to the temporary
swells produced by freshes.
We shall ascertain the effects of straightening the
course of a stream, which, by increasing its slope, must
increase its velocity, and therefore sink the waters above
the place where the curvature was removed, and dimi-.
nish the tendency to overflow, while the same immediate Theory,
consequence must expose the places farther down to the W-y-w
risk of floods from which they woidd otherwise have been
free.
The effects of dams or weirs, and of bars, must then
be considered; the gorge or swell which they produce
up the stream must be determined for every distance
from the weir or bar. This will furnish us with rules
for rendering navigable or floatable such waters as have
too little depth or too great slope. And it will appear
that immense advantages may be thus derived, with a
moderate expence, even from trifling brooks, if we will
relinquish all prejudices, and not imagine that such con¬
veyance is impossible, because it cannot be carried on by
such boats and small craft as we have been accustomed
to look at.
The effects of canals of derivation, the rules or max¬
ims of draining, and the general maxims of embank¬
ment, come in the next place; and our discussions will
conclude with remarks on the most proper forms for the
entry to canals, locks, docks, harbours, and mouths of
rivers, the best shape for the startlings of bridges and of
boats for inland navigation, and such like subordinate
but interesting particulars, which will be suggested by
the general thread of discussion. 33
It is considered, as physically demonstrated (see Hv- Natural
drodynamics), that water issuing from a small orifice velocity,
in the bottom or side of a very large vessel, almost in- txPer’ce
stantly acquires and maintains the velocity which a hea-
vy body would acquire by falling to the orifice from the through
horizontal surface of the stagnant water. This we shall small ori*
call its Natural Velocity. Therefore, if we mul- fice8,
tiply the area of the orifice by this velocity, the product
will be the bulk or quantity of the water which is dis¬
charged. This we may call the Natural Expence
of water, or the Natural Discharge.
Let O represent the area or section of the orifice ex¬
pressed in some known measure, and h its depth under
the surface. Let g express the velocity acquired by a
heavy body during a second by falling. Let V be the
medium velocity of the water’s motion, Q the quantity
of water discharged during a second, and N the natural
expence.
We know that V is equal to Vig X V h. There¬
fore Ni*iO. fs/2g V //.
If these dimensions be all taken in English feet, we
have V2g very nearly equal to 8 ; and therefore V=z
8 V h, and N=0 8 J h.
But in our present business it is much more conve¬
nient to measure every thing by inches. Therefore
since a body acquires the velocity of 32 feet 2 inches
in a second, we have 2g— 64 feet 4 inches or 772 inches,
and V2g=27-78 inches, nearly 27f inches.
Therefore V= ^772 J h, = 27-78 a/ h, and N=0.
V772 a/ h, = O. 27-78 s/ h.
But it is also well known, that if we were to calcu¬
late the expence or discharge for every orifice by this
simple rule, we should in every instance find it much
greater than nature really gives us.
When water issues through a hole in a thin plate, the
lateral columns, pressing into the hole from all sides,
cause the issuing filaments to converge to the axis of
the jet, and contract its dimensions at a little distance
from the hole. And it is in this place of greatest con-
G 2 traction
34
Contrac¬
tion.
• See Tie-
distance of
Fluids,
67.
35
Motion of
filaments
in various
particular
situations,
Tin;. 5.
36
and the
effects of
contraction
determin¬
ed.
Pv I V
traction that the water acquires that velocity which
we observe in our experiments, and which we assume
a» equal to that acquired by falling from the surface.
Therefore, that our computed discharge may best agree
with observation, it must be calculated on the suppo¬
sition that the orifice is diminished to the size ot this
smallest section. But the contraction is subject to va¬
riations, and the dimensions of this smallest section
are at all times difficult to ascertain with precision.
It is therefore much more convenient to compute from
the real dimensions of the orifice, and to correct this
computed discharge, by means of an actual comparison
of the computed and effective discharges in a series of
experiments made in situations resembling those cases
which most frequently occur in practice. This correc¬
tion or its cause, in the mechanism of those internal mo¬
tions, is generally railed Contraction by the writers
on hydraulics; and it is not confined to a hole in a
thin plate : it happens in some degree in all cases
where fluids are made to pass through narrow places.
It happens in the entry into all pipes, canals, and
sluices ; nay even in the passage of water over the
edge of a board, such as is usually set up on the
head of a dam or weir, and even when this is im¬
mersed in water on both sides, as in a bar or keep,
frequently employed for raising the waters of the
level streams in Flanders, in order to render them na¬
vigable. We mentioned an obser vation * of Mr Buat to
this effect, when he saw a gooseberry rise up from the
bottom of the canal along the face of the bar, and then
rapidly fly over its top. We have attempted to repre¬
sent this motion of the filaments in these different situa¬
tions.
Fig. 5. A shows the motion through a thin plate.
B shows the motion when a tube of about two dia¬
meters long is added, and when the water flows with a
full mouth. This does not always happen in so short a
pipe (and never in one that is shorter), but the water
frequently detaches itself from the sides of the pipe, and
flows with a contracted jet.
C shows the motion when the pipe projects into the
inside of the vessel. In this case it is difficult to make
it flow full.
D represents a mouth-piece fitted to the hole, and
formed agreeably to that shape which a jet would as¬
sume of itself. In this case all Contraction is avoided,
because the mouth of this pipe may be considered as the
real orifice, and nothing now diminishes the discharge
but a trifling friction of the sides.
E shows the motion of water over a dam or weir
where the fall is free or unobstructed; the surface of the
lower stream being lower than the edge or sole of the
waste-board.
F is a similar representation of the motion of water
over what we would call a bnr or keep.
It was one great aim of the experiments of Miche-
lotti and Bossut to determine the effects of contraction
in these cases. Michelotti, after carefully observing the
form and dimensions of the natural jet, made various
mouth-pieces resembling it, till he obtained one which
produced the smallest diminution of the computed dis¬
charge, or till the discharge computed for the area of its
smaller end approached the nearest to the effective dis¬
charge. And he at last obtained one which gave a dis¬
charge of 9S3, when the natural discharge would have
E IE
been 1000. This piece was formed by the revolution of
a trochoid round the axis ot the jet, and the dimensions
were as follow:
Diameter of the outer orifice = 3f)
  ... inner orifice =46
Length of the axis = 96
The results of the experiments of the Abbe Bossut
and of Michelotti scarcely differ, and they are expres¬
sed in the following table :
N or the natural expence
Q for the thin plate fig. A 1
almost at the surface f
Q for ditto at the depth of 8 feet
Q for ditto at the depth of 16 feet
Q for a tube 2 diameters long, I
fig. B. f
Q for ditto projecting inwards
and flowing full j
Q for ditto with a contracted 1
jet, fig. C. _ J
Q for the mouth-piece, fig. D.
Q for a weir, fig. E.
Q for a bar, fig. F.
10000=0.27-78 J/i
6526 (hi 8.13 Jk
6193 0.17.21^/1
6173 0.l7-15y//i
8125 0.22.57s/h
6814 0.18.93 sjh
5137 0 14.27xVi
9831 0.27-31 Jh
95'6 0.26.49^/1
9730 0.27.03^/4
The numbers in the last column of this little table are
the cubical inches of water discharged in a second when
the height 4 is one inch.
It must be observed that the discharges assigned here
for the weir and bar relate only to the contractions oc¬
casioned by the passage over the edge of the board. The
weir may also suffer a diminution by the contractions at
its two ends, if it should be narrower than the stream,
which is generally the case, because the two ends are
commonly of square masonry or wood-work. The con¬
traction there is nearly the same with that at the edge of
a thin plate. But this could not be introduced into this
table, because its effect on the expence is the same in
quantity whatever is thelengthof the waste-board of the
weir.
In like manner, the diminution of discharge through
a sluice could not be expressed here. When a sluice is
drawn up, but its lower edge still remains under waterj
the discharge is contracted both above and at the sides,
and the diminution of discharge by each is in propor¬
tion to its extent. It is not easy to reduce either ot
these contractions to computation, but they may be very
easily observed. We frequently can observe the water,
at coining out of a sluice into a mill course, quit the
edge of the aperture, and show a part of the bottom
quite dry. This is always the case when the velocity
ot efflux is considerable. When it is very moderate,
tnis place is occupied by an eddy water almost stagnant.
vhen the head ot water is & or 10 inches, and runs
off freely, the space left between it and the sides is about
H inches. If the sides of the entry have a slope, this
void space can never appear ; but there is always this
endencyto convergence, which diminishes the quantity
of the discharge.
It wdl frequently abridge computation very much to
consider t e water discharged in these differentsituation*
as moving with a common velociiy, which we conceive
as produced not by a fall from the surface of the fluid
13 exaeVf ? ^en the expence is equal to the
1 tural expence), but bya fall Aaccommodated tothedis-
charge;
Part I.
Theory.
37
Diminution
of discharge'
through a
sluice, &c.
'art I.
RIVE R.
50‘
Theory.
38
he mo¬
an of ti¬
n's de-
ends on
le slope
f the sur-
ice.
ig. 6.
charge ; or it is convenient to know the height which
would produce that very velocity which the water issues
with in these situations.
And ako, when the water is observed to be actually
moving with a velocity Vi, and we know whether it is
corning through a thin plate, through a tube, over a
dam, &c. it is necessary to know the pressure or head
of water /i which has actually produced this velocity.
It is convenient therefore to have the following numbers
in readiness.
for the natural expence —
/i for a thin plate - =
A for a tube 2 diam. long =
A for a dam or weir - =
V1
77^
V*
2pti
V*
505
V*
726
h for a bar
V*
~ 7 ifi
It was necessary to premise tliese facts in hydraulics,
that we maybe able in every case to distinguish between
the force expended in the entry of the wafer into the
conduit or canal, and the force employed in overcom¬
ing the resistances along the canal, and in preserving or
accelerating its motion in it.
The motion of running water is produced by two
causes: 1. The action of gravity; and, 2. The mobi¬
lity of the particles, which makes them assume a level
in confined vessels, or determines them to move to that
side where there is a defect of pressure. When the sur¬
face is level, every particle is at rest, being equally pres¬
sed in all directions; but if the surface is not level, not
only does a particle on the very surface tend by its own
weight towards the lower side, as a body would slide
along an inclined plane, but there is a force, external to
itself, arising from a superiority of pressure on the up¬
per end of the surface, which pushes this superficial par¬
ticle towards the lower end ; and this is not peculiar to
the superficial particles, but affects every particle with¬
in the mass of water. In the vessel ACDE (fig. 6.),
containing water with an inclined surface AE, if we
suppose all frozen but the extreme columns AKHB,
FGLE, and a connecting portion HKCDLG, it is
evident, from hydrostatical laws, that the water on this
connecting part will be pushed in the direction CD ;
and if the frozen mass BHGF were moveable it would
also be pushed along. Giving it fluidity wdll make no
change in this respect; and it is indifferent what is the
situation and shape of the connecting column or co¬
lumns. The propelling force (MNF being horizontal)
is the weight of the column AMNI?. The same thing
will obtain wherever we select the vertical columns.
There will always be a force tending to push every par¬
ticle of water in the direction of the declivity. The
consequence will be, that the water will sink at one end
and rise at the other, and its surface will rest in the ho¬
rizontal position a O e, cutting the former in its middle
O. J his cannot be unless there be not only a motion
of perpendicular descent and ascent of the veitical co¬
lumns, but also a real motion of translation from K to-
waids L. It perhaps exceeds our mathematical skill to
tell what will be the motion of each particle. Newton
did not attempt it in his investigation of the motion of Theory,
waves, nor is it at all necessary here. We may, how-
ever, acquire a very distinct notion of its genet al effect.
Let OPQ be a vertical plane passing through the middle
point O. It is evident that every particle in PQ, such
as P, is pressed in the direction QD, with a force equal
to the weight of a single row of particles whose length
is the difference between the columns BH and FG.
The force acting on the particle Q is, in like manner,
the weight of a row of particles =AC—ED. Now
if OQ, OA, OE, be divided in the same ratio, so that
all the figures ACDE, BHGF, &c. may Le similar,
we see that the force arising solely from the declivity,
and acting on each particle on the plane OQ, is propor¬
tional to its depth under the surface, and that the row
of particles ACQDE, BHPGF, &c. which is to be
moved by it, is in the same proportion. Hence it un¬
questionably follows, that the accelerating force on each
particle of the row is the same in all. Therefore the
w hole plane OQ tends to advance forward together
with the same velocity ; and in the instant immediately
succeeding, all these particles would be found again in
a verticle plane indefinitely nearer to OQ ; and if we
sum up the forces, we shall find them the same as if OQ
were the opening of a sluice, having the water on the
side of D standing level with O, and the water on the
other side standing at the height AC. This result is
extremely different from that of the hasty theory of
Gugbelmini. He considers each particle in OQ as
urged by an accelerating force proportional to its depth,
it is true ; but he makes it equal to the weight of the
row OP, and never recollects that the greatest part of
it is balanced by an opposite pressure, rror perceives that
the force which is not balanced must be distributed
among a row of particles which varies in the same pro¬
portion with itself. Y\ hen these two circumstances ate
neglected, the result will be incompatible w ith obser¬
vation. Vvhen the balanced forces are taken into the
account of pressure, it is evident that the surface may
be supposed horizontal, and that motion should obtain
in this case as well as in the case of a sloping surface :
and indeed this is Guglielmini’s professed theory, and
what he highly values himself on. He announces this
discovery of a new principle, which he calls the energy
of deep waters, as an important addition to hydraulics.
It is owing to this, says he, that the great rivers are not
stagnant at their mouths, where they have no percep¬
tible declivity of surface, but, on the contrary, have
greater energy and velocity than farther up, where they
are shallower. This principle is the basis of his impro¬
ved theory of rivers, and is insisted on at great length
by all the subsequent writers. Buffbn, in his theory of
the earth, makes much use of it. We cannot but won¬
der that it has been allowed a place in the theory of
rivers given in the great Encyclopedic of Paris, and in
an article having the signature (O) of D'Alembert.
We have been very anxious to show the falsity oi this
principle, because we consider it as a mere sebterfu. e
of Guglielmini, by w hich he was able to patch up the
mathematical theory which he hadso h stily taken from
Newton or Galileo ; and we think that we have secu¬
red our readers from being misled by it, when we show
thatthis energy must be equally operative when the sur¬
face is on a dead level. The absurdity of this is evi¬
dent. We shall see by and bye, that deep waters, when
54
H I V E E.
Theory, m actual motion, liave an energy not to be found in
shallow running waters, by which they are enabled to
continue that motion: but this is not a moving prin¬
ciple ; and it will be fully explained, as an immediate
result of principles, not vaguely conceived and indi¬
stinctly expressed,like thisofGuglielmini, but easily un¬
derstood, and appreciable with the greatest precision. It
is an energy common to all great bodies.. Although
they lose as much momentum in surmounting any ob¬
stacle as small ones, they lose but a small portion of
their velocity. At present, employed only in consider¬
ing the progressive motion of an open stream, whose
surface is not level, it is quite enough that we see that
such a motion must obtain, and that we see that there
are propelling forces; and that those forces arise solely
from the want of a level surface, or from the slope of
the surface ; and that, with respect to any one particle,
the force acting on it is proportional to the difference
of level between each of the two columns (one on each
side of the particle) which produce it. Were the sur¬
face level, there would be no motion ; if it is not level,
there will be motion; and this motion will be propor¬
tional to the want of level or the declivity of the sur¬
face : it is of no consequence whether the bottom be
level or not, or what is its shape.
Hence we draw a fundamental principle, that the
motion of rivers depends entirely on the slope of the stir-
face.
The slope or declivity of any inclined plane is not
properly expressed by the difference of height alone of
its extremities; we must also consider its length : and
the measure of the slope must be such that it may be
the same while the declivity is the same. It must there¬
fore be the same over the whole of any one inclined
plane. We shall answer these conditions exactly, if we
take for the measure of a slope the fraction which ex¬
presses the elevation of one extremity above the other
AM
divided by the length of the plane. Thus —— will
AF
39
When it
is uniform
the resist¬
ance is
equal to
the accele¬
rating force.
express the declivity of the plane AF.
If the water met with no resistance from the bed in
which it runs, if it had no adhesion to its sides and bot¬
tom, and if its fluidity were perfect, its gravity would
accelerate its course continually, and the earth and its
inhabitants would be deprived of ail the advantages
which they derive from its numberless streams. They
would run off so quickly, that our fields, dried up as
soon as watered, would be barren and useless. No soil
could resist the impetuosity of the torrents ; and their
accelerating force would render them a destroying
scourge, were it not that, by kind Providence, the re¬
sistance of the bed, and the viscidity of the fluid, be¬
come a check which reins them in and sets bounds to
their rapidity. In this marine! the friction on the sides,
which, by the viscidity of the water, is communicated
to the whole mass, and the very adhesion of the par¬
ticles to each other, and to the sides of the channel, are
the causes which make the resistances bear a relation to
the velocity ; so that the resistances augmenting with
the velocities, come at last to balance the accelerating
force. Then the velocity now acquired is preserved,
and die motion becomes uniform, w ithout being able
to acquire new increase, unless some change succeeds
either in the slope or in the capacity of the channel.
Hence arises the second maxim in the motion of rivers.
that when a stream moves uniformly, the resistance is equal
to the accelerating force.
As in the efflux of water through orifices, we pass
over the very beginnings of the accelerated motion,
'which is a matter of speculative curiosity, and consider
the motion m a state of permanency, depending on the
head of water, the area of the orifice, the velocity, and
the expence; so, in the theory of the uniform motion
of rivers, wre consider the slope, the transverse section or
area of the stream, the uniform velocity, and the ex¬
pence. It wih be convenient to affix precise meanings
to the terms which we shall employ.
The section of a stream is the area of a plane per-
pendicular to the direction of the general motion. Terms pre.
The resistances arise ultimately from the action of cisely ex-
the water on the internal surface of the channel, and plained*
must be proportional (cceleris paribus) to the extent of
theaction. Therefore if we unfold the wholeedge of this
section, which is rubbed as it were by the passing wa¬
ter, we shall have a measure of the extent of this action.
In a pipe, circular or prismatical, the whole circum¬
ference is acted on; but in a river or canal ACDQ
(fig. 6.) the horizontal line a O e, which makes the up¬
per boundary of the section a CD e, is free from all ac¬
tion. The action is confined to the three lines a C, C
D, D e. We shall call this line a CD e the border of
the section.
The mean velocity is that with which the whole
section, moving equally, would generate a solid equal
to the expence of the stream. This velocity is to be
found perhaps but in one filament of the stream, and
we do not know in which filament it is to be found.
Since we are attempting to establish an empirical
theory of the motion of rivers, founded entirely on ex-
perimentsand palpable deductions from them ; and since
it is extremely difficult to make experiments on open
streams which shall have a precision sufficient for such
an important purpose—it would be a most desirable
thing to demonstrate an exact analogy between the
mutual balancing of the acceleration and resistance in
pipes and in rivers; for in those we can not only make
experiments with all the desired accuracy, and admit-
41
ting precise measures, but we can make them in a num¬
ber of cases that are almost impracticable in rivers. We
can increase the slope of a pipe from nothing to the
vertical position, and we can employ every desired de¬
gree of pressure, so as to ascertain its effect on the ve¬
locity in degrees which open streams will not admit.
The Chevalier de Tiuat has most happily succeeded in
this demonstration ; and it is here that his good fortune
and his penetration have done so much service to practi¬
cal science.
Let AB (fig. 7-) be a horizontal tube, through Tlie’c‘ce].;.
which the water is impelled by the pressure or head ration and
DA. This head is the moving power; and it may be resistance o
conceived as consisting of two parts, performing two watfr *n aI1
distinct offices. One of them is employed in impres- ^^ont
sing on the water that velocity with which it actually
moves in the tube. WTere there no obstructions to this
motion, no greater head would be wanted; but there
are obstructions arising from friction, adhesion, and
viscidity. This requires force. Let this be the office
of the rest of the head of water in the reservoir. There
is but one allotment, appropriation, or repartition, of
the whole head which will answer. Suppose E to be
the
V E
Part I
Theory-
U^-vO
R I
the point of partition, so that DE is the head rreces-
syvy for impressing the actual velocity on the water
(a head or pressure which has a relation to the form or
circumstance of the entry, and the contraction which
takes place there). The rest EA is wholly employed
in overcoming the simultaneous resistances which take
place along the whole tube AB, and is in equilibrio
with this resistance. Therefore if we apply at E a
tube EC of the same length and diameter with AB,
and having the same degree of polish or roughness ; and
if this tube be inclined in such a manner that the axis
of its extremity may coincide with the axis of AB in
the point C— we affirm that the velocity will be the
same in both pipes, and that they will have the same
expence; for the moving force in the sloping pipe EC
is composed of the whole weight of the column DE
and the relative weight of the column EC : but this re¬
lative weight, by which alone it descends along the in¬
clined pipe EC, is precisely equal to the weight of a
veitical column EA of the same diameter. Every thing
therefore is equal in the two pipes, viz. the lengths,
the diameters, the moving forces, and the resistances ;
therefore the velocities and discharges will also be e-
qual.
This is not only the case on the whole, but also in
every part of it. The relative weight of any part of
it EK is precisely in equilibrio with the resistances
along that part of the pipe ; for it has the same propor¬
tion to the whole relative weight that tiie resistance has
to the whole resistance. Therefore fand this is the most
important circumstance, andthe basis of the whole theory)
the pipe EC may be cut shorter, or may be lengthened
to infinity, without making any change in the velocity
or expence, so long as the propelling head DE remains
the same.
Leaving the whole head DA, as it is, if we lengthen
the horizontal pipe AB to G, it is evident that we in¬
crease the resistance without any addition of force to
overcome it. The velocity must therefore be diminish¬
ed ; and it will now be a velocity which is produced by
a smaller head than DE : therefore if we were to put
in a pipe of equal length at E, terminating in the ho¬
rizontal line AG, the water will not run equally in
both pipes. In order that it may, we must discover
the diminished velocity with which the water now ac¬
tually runs along AG, and we must make a head DI
capable of impressing this velocity at the entry of the
pipe, and then insert at I a pipe IH of the same length
with AG. The expence and velocity of both pipes
will now be the same (a).
R.
55
"VVhat lias now been said of a horizontal pipe AB Theory,
would have been equally true of any inclined pipeAB 'w-Y-^
A'll (fig. 8 ).^ Drawing the horizontal line CB, we 42
see that DC is the whole head or propelling pressure ?r in an
for either pipe AB or A'B; and if DE is the head ne- j;jclined
cessary for the actual velocity, EC is the head noces^ary ]?£%.
for balancing the resistances; and the pipe EF of the ^
same length with AB, and terminating in the same ho¬
rizontal line, will have the same velocity: and its in¬
clination being thus determined, it will have the same
velocity and expence whatever be its length. i3
Ihus we see that the motion in any pipe, horizontal Analogy
or sloping, may be referred to or substituted for the between
motion in another incited pipe, whose head of water
above the place of entry, is that productive of the actual demonl^a
velocity of the water in the pipe. Now, in this case, ted by W
the accelerating force is equal to the resistance: we Cuat-
may therefore consider this last pipe as a river, of which
the bed and the slope are uniform or constant, and the
current in a state of permanency ; and we now may
clearly draw this important conclusion, that pipes and
open streams, when in a stale of permanency, perfectly
resemble each other in the circumstances which are the
immediate causes of this permanency. The equilibrium
between the accelerating force obtains not only in o-e-
neral, but takes place through the whole length of the
pipe or stream, and is predicable of every individual
transverse section of either. To make this more pal¬
pably evident, if possible, let us consider a sloping ty-
lindrical pipe, the current of which is in a state of per¬
manency. We can conceive it as consisting of two
half cylinders, an upper and a lower. These : re run¬
ning together at an equal pace; and the filaments of
each immediately contiguous to the separating plane
and to each other, are not rubbing on each other, nor
affecting each others motions in the smallest degree.
It is true that the upper half is pressing on the lower*
but in a direction perpendicular to the motion, and
therefore not affecting the velocity; and we shall see
presently, that although the lower side of the pipe bears
Somewhat more pressure than the other, the resistances
are not changed. (Indeed this odds of pressure is ac¬
companied with a difference of motion, which need
not be considered at present ; and we may suppose
the pipe so small or so far below the surface, that this
shall be insensible). Now let us suppose, that in an
instant the upper half cylinder is annihilated : We
then have an open stream; and every circumstance
of accelerating force and of resistance remains precisely
as it was. The motion must therefore continue as it
did ;
(a) We recommend it to the reader to make this distribution or allotment of the different portions of the
pressure very familiar to his mind. It is of the most extensive influence in every question of h\ draulics, and will
on every occasion give him distinct conceptions of the internal procedure. Obvious as the thought seems to be
it has escaped the attention of all the writers on the subject. Lecchi, in his Hydraulics published in 1766 as-
cubes something like it to Daniel Bernoulli; but Bernoulli, in the passage quoted, only speaks of the partition
of pressure in the instant of opening an orifice. Part of it, says he, is employed in accelerating the quiescent
wa.er, and producing the ve ocity of efflux, ami the remainder produces the pressure (now diminished-) <,n the
sides ot the vessel. Bernoulli, Bossut, arm all the good writers, make this distribution in express terms in their
explanation or toe motion of wa'er through successive orifices ; and it is surprising that no <me before the Theva-
ici de Buat saw that the resistance arising from friction required a similar partition of the pressure • but though
we s mu d call this good fortune, we must ascribe to his great sagacity and justness of conception the beautiful use
that he has made of it: “ suum cinque ” o © ✓ - i uac,
II I V E E.
Measure
of the re¬
sistance to
the motion
with a gi¬
ven velo¬
city.
46
Results of
De Hunt’s
investiga¬
tion on this
subject.
did ; and in this state tlic (inly accelerating force is the
slope of the surface. The demonstration therefore is
comp-etc.
From these observations and rea'onings we draw a
general and important conclusion, “ That the same
pipe will be susceptible of different velocities, which it
wi:l preserve uniform to any distance, according as it
has different inclinations; and each inclination of a pipe
of given diameter has a certain velocity peculiar to it-
seT, which will be maintained uniform to any distance
whatever; and this velocity increases continual'}', ac¬
cording to some law, to be discovered by theory or ex¬
periment, as the position of the p:pe changes, from be¬
ing horizontal till it becomes vertical; in which position
it has the greatest uniform velocity possible relative to
its inclination, or depending on inclination alone.”
Let fiiis velocity be called the train, or the hate
of each pipe.
It is evident that this principle is of the utmost con¬
sequence in the theory of hydraulics; for by experi¬
ment we can find the train of any pipe. It is in train
when an increase of length makes no change in the ve¬
locity, If lengthening the pipe increases the velocity,
the slope of the pipe is too great, and vice versa. And
having discovered the train of a pipe, and observed its
velocity, and computed the head productive of this ve¬
locity with the contraction at the entry, the remain¬
der of the head, that is fhe slope (for this is equiva¬
lent to EA), is the measure of the resistance. Thus
we obtain the measure of the resistance to the motion
with a given velocity in a pipe of given diameter. If
we change only the velocity, we get the measure of the
new resistance relative to the velocity ; and thus disco¬
ver the law of relation between the resistance and ve¬
locity. Then, changing only the diamater of the pipe,
we get the measure of the resistance relative to the dia¬
meter. 1 his is the aim of a prodigious number of ex¬
periments made and collected by Buat, and which we
shall not repeat, but only give the results of the differ¬
ent parts of his investigation.
We may express the slope of a pipe by the symbol
-, 1 being an inch for instance, and s being the slaunt
,Y
length of a pipe which is one inch more elevated at
one end than at the other. Thus a river which has a
declivity of an inch and a half in 120 fathoms or 8640
inches, has its slope = or576o* 'n or(^er
to obtain the hydraulic slope of a conduit pipe, the
height of the reservoir and place of discharge being
given, we must subtract from the difference of elevation
the height or head of water necessary for propelling the
water into any pipe with the velocity V, which it is
V1
supposed actually to have. This is "5^5* The remain¬
der d is to be considered as the height of the declivitv,
which is to te distributed equally over the whole lenoth
7 , . . d 1
l of the pipe, and the slope is then
I s
There is another important view to be taken of the
slope, which the reader should make very farnilar to his
thoughts. It expressestbe pi oportionbetween theweight
of the whole column which is in motion and the weight
which is employed in overcoming the resistance; and
Parti
Theory.
-—if'’"''
the resistance to the motion of any column of water is
equal to the weight of that column multiplied b}r the
1 .
fraction _, which expresses its slope.
s 47
We come now to consider more particularly the re- ofthere-
sistances which in this manner bring the motion to a sistances
state of uniformity. If we consider the resistances which
which arise from a cause analogous to friction, we see bring the
that they must depend entirely on the inertia of the ™°tateef°
water. What we call the resistance is the diminution uniformity,
of a motion which would have obtained but for these
resistances; and the best way we have of measuring
them is by the force which we must employ in order to
keep up or restore this motion. We estimate this mo¬
tion by a progressive velocity, which we measure by the
expence of water in a given time. We judge the velo¬
city todiminish,v/hen the quantity dischargeddiminishes;
yet it may be otherwise, and probably is otherwise. The
absolute velocity of many, if not all, of the particles,
may even be increased ; but many of the motions, being
transverse to the general direction, the quantity of mo¬
tion in this direction may be less, while the sum of the
absolute motions of all the particles may be greater.
When we increase the general velocity, it is not unrea-
s aiable to suppose that the impulses on all the inequali¬
ties are increased in this proportion ; and the number of
particles thus impelling and deflected at the same time
will increase in the same proportion. The whole quan¬
tity therefore of these useless and lost motions will in¬
crease in the duplicate ratio of the velocities, and the
force necessary for keeping up tire motion will do so al¬
so ; that is, the resistances should increase as the squares
of the velocities.
Or if we consider the resistances as arising merely
from the curvature of the imperceptible internal mo¬
tions occasioned by the inequalities of the sides of the
pipe, and as measured by the forces necessary for pro¬
ducing these curvilineal motions; then, btcause the
curves will be the same whatever are the veL>ci(ie«, the
deflecting forces will be as the squares of the velocities ;
butthesedeflecting forces are pressures, propagatedfrom
the parts urged on pressed by the external force, and
are proportional to these external pressures by the prin¬
ciples of hydrostatics. Therefore the pressures or forces
necessary for keeping up the velocities are as the squares
of these velocities ; and they are our only measures of
the re istances which must be considered as following
the same ratio. Whatever view therefore we take of
the nature of these resistances, we are led to consider
them as proportional to the squares of the velocities.
We may therefore express the resistances by the sym¬
bol -—-, m being some number to be discovered by ex-
m
periment. Thus, in a particular pipe, the diminution
of the motion or the resistance may be the 1000th
Vx
part of the square of the velocity, and R —
Now if g be the accelerating power of gravity on
S . V .
any particle, _, will be its accelerating power, by which
s
itWould urge it down the pipewhose slopeis— There¬
fore
If
Part I.
Theory.
It I V E K.
■57
is
iwcperi-
nients and
reasoning
fore, by the principle of uniform motion, the equality of
the accelerating force, and the resistance, we shall have
Yl —f, and VV s = s1 m S > ^ l^e product of
m s
the velocity, and the reciprocal of the square root of
the slope, or the quotient of the velocity divided by the
slope, is a constant quantity J rn g for any given pipe ;
and the primary formula for all the uniform velocities
ef one pipe is V=--—
s .
Mr Buat therefore examined this by experiment, but
found, that even with respect to a pipe or channel which
was uniform throughout, this was not true. We could
•f De Buat, give at once the final formula which he found to ex-
respecting press the velocity in every case whatever; but this
these resist- wou'l(] be too empirical. The chief steps of his very sa-
anees, iVc. gacjous investigation are instructive. We shall there¬
fore mention them briefly, at least as far at they tend
to give us any collateral information ; and let it always
be noted, that the instruction which they convey is not
abstract speculation, but experimental truths, which
must ever remain as an addition to our stock of know¬
ledge, although Mr Buat’s deductions from them should
prove false.
He found, in the first place, that in the same chan¬
nel the product of V and Vs increased as Vs increa¬
sed ; that is, the velocities increased faster than the
square roots of the slope, or the resistances did not in¬
crease as fast as the squares of the velocities. We beg
leave to refer our readers to what we said on the resist¬
ance of pipes to the motion of fluids through them, in
the article Pneumatics, when speaking of bellow's.
They will there see very valid reasons (we apprehend)
forthinking that theresistancesmust increasemoreslow-
ly than the squares of the velocities.
It being found, then, that V s is not equal to a
constant quantity V ing, it becomes necessary to inves¬
tigate some quantity depending on V j, or, as it is
called, some function of Vs, which shall render
V m g a. constant quantity. Let X be this function
of V s} so that we shall always have VX equal to the
constant quantity J m g, or ^ ™ & equal to the actual
velocity V of a pipe or channel which is in train.
Mr Buat, after many trials and reflections, the chief
of which will be mentioned by and by, found a value
of X which corresponded with a vast variety of slopes
and velocities, from motions almost imperceptible, in a
bed nearly horizontal, to the greatest velocities which
could be produced by gravity alone in a vertical pipe ;
and when he compared them together, he found a very
discernible relation between the resistances and the
magnitude of the section : that is, that in two channels
which had the same slope, and the same propelling
force, the velocity was greatest in the channel which
had the greatest section relative to its border. This
may reasonably be expected. The resistances arise
from the mutual action of the water and this border.
The water immediately contiguous to it is retarded,
and this retards the next, and so on. It is to be ex¬
pected, therefore, that if the border, and the velocity,
and the slope, be the same, the diminution of this velo-
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
city will be so much the les^ as it is to -be shared among Theory’,
a greater number of particles; that is, as the arta of v—11
the section is greater in proportion to the extent of its
border. The dimunition of the general or medium ve¬
locity must be less in a cylindrical pipe than in a square
one of the same area, because the border of its section
is less.
It appears evident, that the resistance of each particle
is in the direct proportion of the whole resistance, and
the inverse proportion of the number of particles which
receive equal shares of it. It is therefore directly as the
border, and inversely as the section. Therefore in the
Va
expression —which we have given for the resistance,
m
the quantity m cannot be constant, except in the same
channel; and in different channels it must vary along
with the relation of the section to its border, because
the resistances diminish in proportion as this relation in¬
creases.
Without attempting to discover this relation by theo¬
retical examination of the particular motions of the va¬
rious filaments, Mr Buat endeavoured to discover it by
a comparison of experiments. But this required some
manner of stating this proportion between the augmen¬
tation of the section and the augmentation of its bor¬
der.
His statement is this : He reduces every section to
a rectangular parallelogram of the same area, and
having its base equal to the border unfolded into a
straight line. The product of this base by the height
of the rectangle will be equal to the area of the sec¬
tion. Therefore this height will be a representative of
this valuab'e ratio of the section to its border (we do
not mean that there is any ratio between a surface and
a line: but the ratio of section to section is different
from that of border to border; and it is the ratio of
these ratios which is thus expressed by the height of
this rectangle). If S be the section, and B the border,
•' S
— is evidently a line equal to the height of this rect_
angle. Every section being in this manner reduced to
a rectangle, the perpendicular height of it may be called
the hydraulic mean depth of the section, and may be
expressed by the symbol d. (Buat calls it the mean ra¬
dius). If the channel be a cylindrical pipe, or an open
half cylinder, it is evident that d is half the radius. If
the section is a rectangle, whose width is rv, and height
rv h
h, the mean depth is^_^_ &c. In general, if q re¬
present the proportion of the breadth of a rectangular
canal to its depth, that is, if q be made = we shall
have dz
5+2
or d
  qh
9 + 2*
Now, since the resistancesmust augment as the propor¬
tion of the border to the section augments, m in the for-
a -  
mulas—-=r- and must follow the pro¬
portions of d, and the quantity m g must be propor¬
tional to */ d, for different channels, and should
be a constant quantity in every case.
+ H
V d
Our
58
Theory-
49
A specious
objettion
RIVER,
50
obviated
by an ex¬
periment
on the os¬
cillation of
water in
syphons.
Pis- 9-
51.
The resist¬
ance de¬
pends chief¬
ly on the
relation be¬
tween the
section and
its border.
Our author was aware, however, of a very specious
objection to the close dependence of the resistance on
the extent of the border; and that it might be said
that a double border did not occasion a double resist¬
ance, unless the pressure on all the parts was the same.
For it may be naturally (and it is generally) supposed,
that theresistance will be greater when the pressure is
greater. The friction or resistance analogous to fric¬
tion may therefore be greater on an inch of the bottom
than on an inch of the sides; but M. d’Alembert and
many others have demonstrated, that the paths of the
filaments will be the same whatever be the pressures.
This might serve to justify our ingenious author; but he
was determined to rest every thing on experiment. He
therefore made an experiment on the oscillation of water
in syphons, which we have repeated in the following
form, which is affected by the same circumstances, and
is susceptible of much greater precision, and of more
extensive and important application.
The two vessels ABCD, abed (fig. 9) were con¬
nected by the syphon EFG gf e, which turned round
in the short tubes E and e, without allowing any water
to escape; the axis of these tubes being in one straight
line. The vessels were about 10 inches deep, and the
branches FG, f g of the syphon were about five feet
long. The vessels were set on two tables of equal
height, and (the hole e being stopped) the vessel ABCD,
and the whole syphon, were filled with water, and water
was poured into the vessel abed till it stood at a cer¬
tain height LM. The syphon was then turned into a
horizontal position, and the plug drawn out of e, and
the time carefully noted which the water employed in
rising to the level HK kh in both vessels. The whole
apparatus was now inclined, so that the water ran back
into ABCD. The syphon was now put in a vertical
position, and the experiment was repeated. — No sensible
or regular difference was observed in the time. Yet in
this experiment the pressure on the part G g of the sy¬
phon was more than six times greater than before. As
it was thought that the friction on this small part (only
six inches) was too small a portion of the whole obstruc¬
tion, various additional obstructions were put into this
part of the syphon, and it was even lengthened to nine
feet; but still no remarkable difference was observed.
It was even thought that the times were less when the
syphon was vertical.
Thus M. De Buat’s opinion is completely justified;
and he may be allowed to assert, that the resistance de-
. pends chiefly on the relation between the section and
its
border; and that - should be a constant quan-
In very great beds /-Jrng was nearly proportional to
s'd; but in smaller channels, the velocities diminished
much more than Jd did. Casting about for some way
of accommodation, Mr Buat considered, that some ap¬
proximation at least would be had by taking off from
Jd some constant small quantity. This is evident:
For such a diminution will have but a trifling effect
when >Jd is great, and its effect will increase rapidly
when Jd is very small. He therefore tried various
values for this subtraction, and compared the results
with the former experiments ; and he found, that if in
every case >Jd be diminished by one-tenth of an inch,
the calculated discharges would agree very exactly with
the experiment. Therefore, instead of Jd, he makes
use of' Jd—0.1, and finds this quantity always pro-
Partl
Theory.
sfm
is a con-
tity-
To ascertain this point was the object of the next se¬
ries of experiments : to see whether this quantity was
really constant, and, if not, to discover the law of its
variation, and the physical circumstances which ac¬
companied the variations, and may therefore be consi¬
dered as their causes. A careful comparison of* a very
great number of experiments, made with the same slope,
and with very different channels unci velocities, showed
that Jm g did not follow the proportion of d, nor
of any power of ^d. This quantity Jmg increased
by smaller degrees in proportion, as Vd was greater.
portional to g, or finds that JJJZqi
stant quantity, or very nearly so. It varied from 297
to 287 in all sections, from that of a very small pipe to
that of a little canal. In the large sections of canals
and rivers it diminished still more, but never was less
than 256. _ 52
This result is very agreeable to the most distinct no- The resu
tions that we can form of the mutual actions of the agreeable
water and its bed. We see, that when the motion of
water is obstructed by a solid body, which deflects the tjons ot‘t
passing filaments, the disturbance does not extend to action ot
anv considerable distance on the two sides of the body, water, ai
In*like manner, the small disturbances, and impercep- lts bcd>
tible curvilineal motions, which are occasioned by the
infinitesimal inequalities of the channel, must extend to
a very small distance indeed from the sides and bottom
of the channel. We know, too, that the mutual adhe¬
sion or attraction of water for the solid bodies which
are moistened by it, extends to a very small distance ;
which is probably the same, or nearly so, in all cases.
Mr Buat observed, that a surface of 23 square inches,
applied to the surface of stagnant water, lifted 1601
grains ; another of 5f square inches lifted 365 : this was
at the rate of 65 grains per inch nearly, making a co¬
lumn of about one-sixth of an inch high. Now this ef¬
fect is very much analogous to a real contraction of the
capacity of the channel. The water may be conceived
as nearly stagnant to this small distance from the border
of the section. Or, to speak more accu* ate !y, the di-
minution of the progressive velocity occasioned by the
friction and adhesion of the sides, decreases very rapidly
as we recede from the sides, and ceases to be sensible at
a very small distance. _
The wri* er of this article verified this by a very simple
and instructive experiment. Hewasmaking experiments firmed
on the production of vortices, in the manner suggested experi-
by Sir Isaac Newton, by whirling a very accurate and ment*
smoothly polished cylinder in water ; and he found that
the rapid motion of the surrounding water was confined
to an exceeding small distance from the cylinder, and it
was not till after many revolutions that it was sensible
even at the dbtat.ee of half an inch. We may, by the
way, suggest this as the best form of experiments for ex¬
amining the resistances of pipes. The motion exerted by
the whirling cylinder in the stagnant water is equal and
opposite to the motion lost by water passing along a
surface
Part I.
HIVE II.
39
Theory, surface equal to that of the cylinder with the ssme velo-
city. Be this as it may, we are justified in considering,
with Mr Buat, the section of the stream as thus dimi¬
nished by cutting off a narrow border all round the
touching parts, and supposing that the motion and dis¬
charge is the same as if the root of the mean depth of
the section were diminished by a small quantity, nearly
constant. We see, too, that the effect of this must be
insensible in great canals and rivers ; so that, fortunate¬
ly, its quantity is best ascertained by experiments made
with small pipes. This is attended with another con-
veniency, in the opinion of Mr Buat, namely, that the
effect of viscidity is most sensible in great masses of wa¬
ter in slow motion, and is almost insensible in small
pipes, so as not to disturb these experiments. We
may therefore assume 297 as the general value of
Jing
njd—0.1
Since we have
_
0.1 “
297, we have also
ZW1 Jd—0.1* _
88209
(*/<*-(U)8, =
in the formula V—
\f «g (N/d—0.1)
which, for one
channel, we may express thus, V=—, we must admit
X
that X is sensibly equal to when the slope is very
small or s very great. But, that we may accurately
express the velocity in proportion as the slope augments,
we must have X greater than s; and moreover,
L must increase as a/ y diminishes. These oondi- Theory.
tions are necessary, that our values of V, deduced from
may agree with the experiment.
J\.
the formula V=
In order to comprehend every degree of slope, we
must particularly attend to the motion through pipes,
because open canals will not furnish us with instances of
exact trains with great slopes and velocities. We
can make pipes vertical.
In this case - is L and the
s 1
g 362
243.6 (^/d—0.1)*. This we may express by
n (s/d—0.1)2. And thus, when we have expressed
V2 ...
the effect of friction by —> the quantity m is vari-
m
V2
able, and its general value is , in which
n(s/d~~0.\Y
n is an invariable abstract number equal to 243.7, given
by the nature of the resistance which water sustains
from its bed, and which indicates its intensity.
And, lastly, since m—n (*/d—0.1)2, we have
mg —Jug (v/d—0.1), and the expression of
the velocity V, which water acquires and maintains
along any channel whatever, now becomes V —
J^g(Jd~0.\) 297 {Jd~0.l) . , . ,
  or , in which
X X
X is also a variable quantity, depending on the slope
of the surface or channel, and expressing the accelera¬
ting force which, in the case of water in train, is in
equilibrio with the resistances expressed by the numera-
^ tor of the fraction.
Law of ac- Having so happily succeeded in ascertaining the va-
seleration nations of resistance, let us accompany M. Buat in his
nveetiga- investigation of tile law of acceleration, expressed by the
e<J* value of X.
Experience, in perfect agreement with any distinct
opinions that we can form on this subject, had already
showed him, that the resistances increased in a slower
ratio than that of the squares of the velocities, or that
the velocities increased slower than ^Therefore,
velocity is the greatest possible for a train by the action
of gravity : But we can give greater velocities than this
by increasing the head of water beyond what produces
the velocity of the train.
Let AB (fig. 10.) be a vertical tube, and let CA Fig. 10,
be the head competent to the velocity in the tube,
which we suppose to be in train. The slope is 1, and
the full weight of the column in motion is the precise
measure of the resistance. The value of I, considered
s
as a slope, is now a maximum; but, considered as ex¬
pressing the proportion of the weight of the column in
motion to the weight which is in equilibrio with the re¬
sistance, it may not be a maximum; it may surpass uni¬
ty, and s may be less than 1. P'or if the vessel be filled
to E, the head of water is increased, and will produce
a greater velocity, and this will produce a greater re¬
sistance. The velocity being now greater, the head
EF which imparts it must be greater than CA. But it
will not be equal to EA, because the uniform velocities
are found to increase faster than the square roots of the
pressures. This is the general fact. Therefore F is
above A, and the weight of the column FB, now em¬
ployed to overcome the resistance, is greater than the
weight of the column AB in motion. In such cases,
therefore, greater than unity, is a sort of fictitious
slope, and only represents the proportion of the re¬
sistance to the weight of the moving column. This
proportion may surpass unity.
But it cannot he infinite : For supposing the head of
water infinite: if this produce a finite velocity, and we
deduct from the whole height the height corresponding
to this finite velocity, there will remain an infinite head,
the measure of an infinite resistance produced by a finite
velocity. This does not accord v/ith the observed law
of the velocities, where the resistances actually do not
increase as fast as the squares of the velocities. There¬
fore an infinite head would have produced an infinite
velocity, in opposition to the resistances: taking off the
head of the tube, competent to this velocity, at the en¬
try of the tube, which head would also be infinite, the
remainder would in all probability be finite, balancing
a finite resistance.
Therefore the value of .y may remain finite, although
the velocity be infinite ; and this is agreeable to all our
clearest notions of the resistances.
Adopting this principle, we must find a value of X
which 'will answer all these conditions. 2. It must be
sensibly proportional to s/•v, while s is great. It must
always be less than*/y. 3. It must deviate from the
proportion of *Js? so much the more as*/s is smaller.
H 2 4. It
HIVE R.
Part I
Fig. 11.
4. It must not vanish when the velocity is infinite.
5. It must agree with a range of experiments with every
variety of channel and of slope.
We shall understand the nature of this quantity X
better by representing by lines the quantities concerned
in forming it.
If the velocities were exactly as the square roots of
the slopes, the equilateral hyperbola NKS (fig. 11.)
between its assyrnptotes MA, AB, would represent
^ -. The values of ^ s would be
the equation V:
sf s
represented by the abscissae, and the velocities by the
ordinates, and V ^ $=A would be the power of the
hyperbola. But since these velocities are not sensibly
equal to except when s is very great, and devi-
J s
ate the more from this quantity as s/ sis smaller; we
may represent the velocities by the ordinates of another
curve PGT, which approaches very near to the hyper¬
bola, at a great distance tfom A along AB ,• but sepa¬
rates from it when the abscissas are smaller : so that if
AQ represents that value uf J s (which we have seen
may become less than unity), which corresponds to an
infinite velocity, the line QO may be the assymptote of
A
the new curve. Its ordinates are equal to while
A
those of the hyperbola are equal to —— Therefore
v s
the ratio of these ordinates or . V s. should be such that
X
it shall be so much nearer to unity as y/s is greater*
and shall surpass it so much the more as */ s is smal¬
ler.
To express X, therefore, as some function of ^ s so
as to answer these conditions, we see in general that
X must be less than J s. And it must not be equal to
any power o£ s whose index is less than unity, be¬
cause then would differ so much the more from
unity as $ is greater. Nor must it be any multiple
of V s such as q J s, for the same reason. If we make
X=V s—K, K being a constant quantity, we may
answer the first condition pretty well. But K must be
very small, that X may not become equal to nothing,
except in some exceedingly small value of s. Now
the experiments will not admit of this, because the ra-
♦in V s
110 j g £ does not increase sufficiently to correspond
with the velocities which we observe in certain slopes,
unless we make K greater than unity, which again is in¬
consistent with other experiments. We learn from such
canvassing that it will not do to make K a constant quan¬
tity. If we should make it any fractionary power of s
it would make X=0, that is, nothing, when s is — 1,
which is also contrary to experience. It would seem,
therefore, that nothing will answer for K but some
power of $ v hich has a variable index. The loga¬
rithm of y/ s has this property. We may therefore
try to make X=N/ a-—-log. ^ s. Accordingly if we try
the equation V ^   -A- we shall find a
V s—hyp. log. s/s
very great agreement with the experiments till the de- Theory,
clivity becomes considerable, or about which is
much greater than any river. But it will not agree
with the velocities observed in some mill courses, and
in pipes of a still greater declivity, and gives a velocity
that is too small; and in vertical pipes the velocity is
not above one half of the true one. We shall get rid
of most of these incongruities if wre make K consist
of the hyperbolic logarithm of <y/ s augmented by a
small constant quantity, and by trying various values for
this constant quantity, and comparing the results with
experiment, we may hit on one sufficiently exact for all
practical purposes.
M. de Buat, after repeated trials, found that he
would have a very great conformity with experiment
by making K=log. and that the velocities
exhibited in his experiments would be very well repre-
297(vM—cm
sented by the formula V = ——   
y/ S L y/ s +1.6 5.5
There is a circumstance which our author seems to Mutual ad
have overlooked on this occasion, and which is undoubt- kesion of
edly of great effect in these motions, viz. the mutual ad-
hesion of the particles of water. This causes the water water.
which is descended (in a vertical pipe for example) to
drag more water after it, and thus greatly increases its
velocity. We have seen an experiment in which the
w ater issued from the bottom of a reservoir through a
long vertical pipe having a very gentle taper. It was
15 feet long, one inch diameter at the upper end, and
twro inches at the lower. The depth of the water in
the reservoir was exactly one foot; in a minute there
w'ere discharged 2 Tng cubic feet of water. It must
therefore have issued through the hole in the bottom ot
the reservior with the velocity of S.85 feet per second
And yet we know that this head of water could not
make it pass through the hole with a velocity greater
than 6.56 feet per second. This increase must therefore
have arisen from the cause we have mentioned, and is a
proof of the great intensity of this force. We doubt not
but that the discharge might have been much more in¬
creased by proper contrivances; and we know many in¬
stances in water pipes where this effect is produced in a
very great degree. 5(J
The following case is very distinct: Water is brought An actual
into the town of Dunbar in the county of East Lothian case
from a spring at the distance of about 3200 yards. It
is conveyed along the first 1100 yards in a pipe of two
inches diameter, and the declivity is 12 feet 9 inches ;
from thence the water flows in a pipe of 1 ^ diameter,
with a declivity of 44 feet three inches, making in all
57 feet. When the work was carried as far as the two-
inch pipe reached, the discharge was found to be 27
Scotch pints, of 103| cubic inches each in a minute.
When it was brought into the town, the discharge was
28. Here it is plain that the descent along the second
stretch of the pipe could derive no impulsion from the
first. This was only able to supply 27 pints, and to
deliver it into a pipe of equal bore.. It was not equiva¬
lent to the forcing it into a smaller pipe, and almost
doubling its velocity. It must therefore have been drag¬
ged into this smaller pipe by the weight of what was
descending along it, and this water was exerting a
force equivalent to a head of 16 inches, increasing the
velocity from 14 to about 28.
u
Fart I.
Theory.
57
proves that
;'he smallest
leclivity
ivill pro¬
duce a cur¬
rent.
58
A constant
part of the
accelera¬
ting force
employed
in over¬
coming the
viscidity,
&c.
HIVE
11
6i
It must be observed, that if this formula be just,
there can be no declivity so small that a current of wa¬
ter will not take place in it. And accordingly none
has been observed in the surface of a stream when this
did not happen. But it also should happen with re¬
spect to any declivity of bottom. Yet we know that
water will hang on the sloping surface of a board with¬
out proceeding further. The cause of this seems to
be the adhesion of the water combined with its visci¬
dity. The viscidity of a fluid presents a certain force
which must be overcome before any current can take
place.
A series of important experiments were made by
our author in order to ascertain the relation between
the velocity at the surface of any stream and that at
the bottom. These are curious and valuable on many
accounts. One circumstance deserves our notice here,
viz. that the difference between the superjicial and bottom
velocities of any stream are proportional to the square
roots of the superficial velocities. From what has been
already said on the gradual diminution of the velocities
among the adjoining filaments, we must conclude that
the same rule holds good with respect to the velocity of
separation of two filaments immediately adjoining.
Hence we learn that this velocity of separation is in all
cases indefinitely small, and that we may, without dan¬
ger of any sensible error, suppose it a constant quan¬
tity in all cases.
We think, with our ingenious author, that on a
review of these circumstances, there is a constant or in¬
variable portion of the accelerating force employed in
overcoming this viscidity and producing this mutual se¬
paration of the adjoining filaments. We may express
with experiment, we are now in a condition to conclude Theory,
a complete formula, expressive of the uniform motion
of water, and involving every circumstance which ap¬
pears to have any share in the operation.
Therefore, let ^
V represent the mean velocity, in inches per second, Formula
of any current of water, running uniformly, or which expressing
is in tkain, in a pipe or open channel, whose sec- the uniform
tion, figure, and slope, are constant, but its lencrth motlon of
indefinite. water-
d The hydraulic mean depth, that is, the quotient
arising from dividing the section of the channel, in
square inches> by its border, expressed in linear inches.
s The slope of the pipe, or of the surface of the
current. It is the denominator of the fraction expres¬
sing this slope, the numerator being always unity; and
is had by dividing the expanded length of the pipe or
channel by the difference of height of its two extre¬
mities.
g The velocity (in inches per second) which a heavy
body acquires by falling during one second.
n An abstract constant number, determined by expe¬
riment to be 243.7.
L The hyperbolic logarithm of the quantity to which
it is prefixed, and is had by multiplying the common
logarithm of that quantity by 2.302(5.
We shall have in every instance
v_ */ng —0.1)
s —— L./^/ .y-j-1.(5
0.3 Cy/ d —0.1)
This, in numbers, and English measure, is
this part of the accelerating force by a part JL of that
o
slope which constitutes the whole of it. If it were
not employed in overcoming this resistance, it would
produce a velocity which (on account of this resistance)
\ls — L\'s +1.(5
And in French measure
is not produced, or is lost.
This would be
A
VS^WS.
297 (Vd—0.1)
f f——LVj d-1.6
—0.3(Vd—0.1).
This must therefore be taken from the velocity exhi¬
bited by our general formula. When thus corrected, it
would become V
= (vrirf
—7^) • But as the term
S — L JS/
Vs -j- 1.6
sj ng
VS —LVS
is compounded only of constant quantities, we may ex¬
press it by a single number. This has been collected
from a scrupulous attention to the experiments (espe¬
cially in canals and great bodies of water moving with
very small velocities; in which case the effects of vis¬
cidity must become more remarkable), and it appears
that it may be valued'at >V*nc^ or 0.3 inches very
0.09 3
nearly.
From the whole of the foregoing considerations)
drawn from nature, supported by such reasonings as our
most distinct notions of the internal motions will ad¬
mit, and authorised by a very extensive comparison
The following table contains the real experiments
from which this formula was deduced, and the compa¬
rison of the real velocities with the velocities computed
by the formula. It consists of two principal sets of
experiments. The first are those made on the motion
of water in pipes. The second are experiments made
on open canals and rivers. In the first set, column 1st
contains the number of the experiment; 2d, the length
of the tube ; 3d, the height of the reservoir; 4th, the
values of S, deduced from column second and third;
5th gives the observed velocities; and 6th the veloci¬
ties calculated by the formula.
In the second set, column 2d gives the area of the
section of the channel; 5d, the border of the canal or
circumference of the section, deducting the hor zontal
width, which sustains no friction ; 4th, the square root
Vd of the hydraulic mean depth; 5th, the denominator
S of the slope ; 6th, the observed mean velocities; aud
7th, the mean velocities by the formula. In the last
ten experiments on large canals and a natural river
the 6th column gives the observed velocities at the
surface.
Set I,
62
Theory.
GO
Table con¬
taining the
experi¬
ments from
■which the
formula is
deduced.
HIVE E.
Set I. Experiments on Pipes.
Experiments by Chevalier De Boat.
N°
Length
of
Pipe.
Height
of
Reservoir
Values
of s.
Velocities
observed.
Veloci¬
ties cal¬
culated.
Vertical Tube % of a Vine in Diameter and
Jd= 0.117851.
Inch.
12
12
Inch.
16.166
13.125
Inch.
0.75636
0.9307
Inch.
11.704
9-753
Vertical Pipe Lines Diameter, and
sld— 0.176776 Inch.
7
8
9
10
34.166
Do.
Do.
Do.
34.166
Do.
Do.
Do.
42.166
38.333
36.666
35.333
0.9062
0.9951
1.0396
1.0781
45.468
43.156
42.385
41.614
The same Pipe Horizontal.
14.583
9.292
5.292
2.083
2.5838
4.0367
7.036
17-6378
26.202
21.064
14.642
7.320
Inch.
12.006
10.576
46.210
43.721
42.612
41.714
25.523
19.882
14.447
2.351
Vertical Pipe 2 Lines Diameter, and Jd — 0.204124.
11
12
IS
14
36.25
Do.
Do.
Do.
51.250
45.250
41.916
38.750
0.85451
0.96338
1.03808
1.12047
67.373
59.605
57.220
54.186
Same Pipe ivith a slope of-—-—
1 J 1.3024-
15 j 36.25 | 33 500 | 1.29174 | 51.151
Same Pipe Horizontal.
16
17
28
19
36.25
Do.
Do.
Do.
15.292
8.875
5.292
2.042
2.7901
4.76076
7-89587
20.01637
33.378
25.430
19-940
10.620
64.945
60.428
57.838
55.321
50.933
33.167
24.553
18.313
10.492
Vertical Pipe 2^ Lines Diameter, and f d — 0.245798.
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
36.25
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
53.250
50.250
48.333
48.333
47.916
44.750
41.250
0.95235
1.00642
1.0444
1.0444
1.0529
1.1241
1.2157
85.769
82.471
81.6l61
79-948 /
81.027
76.079
73.811
85.201
82.461
80.698
80.318
77-318
73.904
The same Pipe with the slope 1 .
r 1.3024
27 1 36.25 1 37.5 | 1.3323 } 70.822 J 70.138
The same Pipe Horizontal.
Parti
Theory.
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
[37
38
Length
of
Pipe.
Inch.
36.25
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Height
of
Reservoir.
Inch.
20.166
9-083
7.361
5.
4.916
4.833
3.708
2.713
2.083
1.625
0.833
Values
of s.
Inch.
2.4303
5.2086
6.4504
9-3573
9-5097
9-6652
12.4624
16.3135
21.6639
27.5102
52.3427
Velocities
observed.
Inch.
51.956
33.577
28.658
23.401
22.989
22.679
19-587
16.631
14.295
12.680
7.577
Veloci¬
ties cal¬
culated.
Inch.
50.140
32.442
28.801
23.195
22.974
22.754
19.550
16.324
14.003
12.115
8.215
Pipes sensibly Horizontal *Jd — 0.5, or 1 Inch Diameter.
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
4*6
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
117
117
138.5
117
138.5
737
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
138.5
737
787
36
26.666
20.950
18
6
23.7
14.6
13.7
12,32
8.961
8.96 f
7780
5.93
4.2 1
4.2 /
0.7
0.5
0.15
5.6503
7.48
10.3215
10.7880
33.1962
33.6658
54.. 63 4
57.7772
64.1573
87-8679
101.0309
132.1617
186.0037
257-8863
154075
5113.42
84.945
71.301
58.808
58.310
29.341
28.669
21.856
20.970
19.991
166 5?
16.284 S
15.112
13.315
10.6717
10.441 S
8.689
3.623
1.589
85.524
72.617
60.034
58 472
29.663
29-412
22 056
21.240
19.950
16.543
15.232
13.005
10.656
8 824
3.21S
1.647
Experiments by the Abbe Bossut.
Horizontal Pijie 1 Inch Diameter fd — 0 5.
57
58
600
600
12
4
54.5966
161.312
22.282
12.223
21.975
11.756
Horizontal Pipe If Inch Diameter s/d — 0.5774.
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
36o
720
S60
1080
1440
720
1800
2l60
1080
1440
1800
2160
24
24
12
24
24
12
24
24
12
12
12
12
19-0781
33.6l66
37 0858
48.3542
64.1S06
66 3020
78.0532
92.9474
95.8756
125.6007
155.4015
185.2187
48.534
34.473
33.160
28 075
24.004
23.360
21.032
18.896
18.943
16.128
14.066
12.560
49.515
35. J 30
33.106
28.211
24.023
23.345
21.182
19.096
18.749
15.991
14.119
12.750
Horizontal
Part I.
Theory.
HIVE 11.
Horizontal Pipe 2.01 Inch Diameter ^/d—0:70S[)i6.
71
72
73
71
75
76
77
78
79
SO
81
82
Length
of
Pipe.
360
720
360
1080
1440
720
1800
2160
1080
1440
1800
2160
Height
of
Reservoir.
24
24
12
24
24
12
24
24
12
12
12
12
Values
of s.
21.4709
35.8082
41.2759
50.4119
65.1448
70.1426
79-8487
91-7901
99-1979
129.0727
158.7512
188.5172
Velocities
observed.
58.903
43.
40.322
35.765
30.896
29-215
27.470
27-731
23.806
20.707
18.304
16.377
Veloci¬
ties cal¬
culated.
58.803
43.136
39-587
35.096
30.096
28.796
26.6.39
24.079
23.400
20.076
17-788
16.097
Mr Couplet’s Experiments at Versailles.
Pipe 5 Inches Diameter Jd =1.11803.
83
84
85
86
87
88
84240
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
25
24
21.083
16.750
11.333
5.583
3378.26
3518.98
4005.66
5041.61
7450.42
15119.96
5.323
5.213
4.806
4.127
3.154
2.011
5.287
5.168
4.887
4.225
3.388
2.254
Pipe 18 Inches Diameter ^=2.12132.
89 I 43200 I 145.083 J 304-973 J 39.159 | 40.510
Set II. Experiments with a Wooden Canal.
Re¬
section
of
Canal.
Border
of
Canal.
V alues
of Jd
Values
of s.
Mean
V elocity
observed
Mean
Velocity
calculated.
Trapezium Canal.
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
10 r
105
106
Inch.
18.84
50.60
83.43
27.20
39 36
50.44
56.43
98.74
100 74
119-58
126.20
130.71
135.32
20.83
34.37
36.77
42.01
Inch.
13.06
29 50
26.
15 31
18.13
20.37
21.50
28.25
28.53
31 06
31.91
Si 47
33.03
13.62
17-
17-56
,18.69
Inch.
1.20107
1.3096
1-7913
1.3329
1.4734
1.5736
1.6201
1.8696
1.8791
i .9622
1-9887
1.0064
1.0241
1.2367
1.4219
1.4471
1.4992
Inch.
212
212
412
427
427
427
427
432
432
432
432
432
432
1728
1728
1728
1728
Inch.
27.51
28 92
27.14
18.28
20 30
22.37
23.54
28 29
28.52
30.16
31.58
31.89
32.32
8 94
9.71
11.45
12.34
Inch.
27.19
29.88
28.55
20.39
22.71
24.37
25.14
29.06
29.23
30.60
31.03
31.32
31.61
8.58
9-98
10.17
10.53
Rectangular Canal.
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
Section
of
Canal.
34.50
8625
34.50
35.22
51.75
76.19
105.78
69.
155.25
Border
of
Canal.
21.25
27.25
21.25
21.33
23.25
26.08
29.17
25.25
35.25
Values
of +/d
1.27418
1.77908
1.27418
1.23499
1.49191
1.70921
1.90427
1.65308
2.09868
Values
of s.
Mean
V elocity
observed
458
458
929
1412
1412
1412
1412
9288
9288
20.24
28.29
13.56
9-20
12.10
14.17
15.55
4.59
5.70
Mean
Velocity
calcul.
18.66
26.69
11.53
10.01
11.76
13.59
15.24
4.56
5.86
Set III. Experiments on the Canal of Jard.
N«
1161
117
118
119
120
121
Nc
Section
of
Canal.
16252
11905
10475
7858
7376
6125
Border
of
Canal.
402
366
360
340
337
324
Values
of sjd
6.3583
5.70320
5.3942
4 8074
4.6784
4.3475
Values
of s.
8919
11520
15360
21827
27648
27648
Velocity
obs. at
Surface.
V eloci¬
ty cal¬
culated.
17.42
12.17
15.74
9.61
7.79
7.27
Experiments on the River Haine.
122
123
124
125
Section
of
River.
31498
38838
30905
39639
Border
of
River.
569
601
568
604
Values
of fd
7.43974
8.03879
7.37632
8.10108
Values
of *.
6048
6413
32951
35723
Velocity
at
Surface.
35.11
31.77
13.61
15.96
18.77
14.52
11.61
8.38
7.07
6.55
Velocity
(mean)
calcul.
27.62
28.76
10.08
10.53
The comparison must be acknowledged to be most
satisfactory, and shows the great penetration and ad¬
dress of the author, in so successfully sifting and ap¬
preciating the share which each co-operating circum¬
stance has had in producing the very intricate and com¬
plicated effect. It adds some weight to the principles
on which he has proceeded in this analysis of the me¬
chanism of hydraulic motion, and must give us great
confidence in a theory so fairly established on a very ,,j
copious induction. The author offers it only as a ratio- The theafy
nai and well-founded probability. To this character it a well- '
is certainly entitled; for the suppositions made in it founded
are agreeable to the most distinct notions we can fonn Probability,
of these internal motions. And it must always be re¬
membered that the investigation of the formula, al¬
though it be rendered somewhat more perspicuous by
thus having recourse to those motions, has no depen¬
dence on the truth of the principles. For it is, in fact,
nothing but a classification of experiments, which are
grouped together by some one circumstance of slope,
velocity, form of section, &c. in order to discover the
law of the changes which are induced by a variation of
the
ct
Theory.
R I V E It.
Part]
62
the expe¬
riments
highly va¬
luable.
the circumstances which do not resemble. The pro¬
cedure was precisely simi'ar to that of the astronomer
when he deduces the elements of an orbit from a mul¬
titude of observations. This was the task of M. de Buat ;
and he candidly and modestly informs us, that the find¬
ing out analytical forms of expression which would ex¬
hibit these changes was the work of Mr Benezech de St
Honore, a young officer of engineers, and his colleague
in the experimental course. It does honour to his skill
and address; and we think ihe whole both a pretty
and instructive specimen of the method of discovering
the laws of nature in the midst of complicated pheno¬
mena. Daniel Bernoulli first gave the rules of this me¬
thod, and they have been greatly improved by Lam¬
bert, Condorcet, and De la Grange. Mr Coulomb
has given some excellent examples of their application
to the discovery of the laws of friction, of magnetical
and electrical attraction, 5 c. But this present work
is the most perspicuous and familiar of them all. It is
the empirical method of generalising natural phenome¬
na, and of deducing general rules, of which we can
give no other demonsrtation but that they are faithful
representations of matters of fact. We hope that others,
encouraged by the success of M. de Buat, will fol¬
low this example, where public utility is preferred to
a display of mathematical knowledge.
Although the author may not have hit upon the pre¬
cise modus operaiidi, we agree with him in thinking that
nature seems to act in a way not unlike what is here
supposed. At any rate, the range of experiments is so
extensive, and so multifarious, that few cases can occur
which are not included among them. The experiments
will always retain their value (as we presume that they
are laithfully narrated), whatever may become of the
theory ; and we are confident that the formula will give
an answer to any question to which it may be applicable
infinitely preferable to the vague guess of the most sa¬
gacious and experienced engineer.
We must however observe, that as the experiments
on pipes were all made with scrupulous care in the con¬
trivance and execution of the apparatus, excepting only
those of Mr Couplet on the main pipes at Versailles,
ty given by we may Presume that the formula gives the greatest
the formula velocities which can be expected. In ordinary works,
too large where joints are rough or leaky, where drops of solder
for ordinary hang iii the inside, where cocks intervene with defi-
works. cient water-ways, where pipes have awkward bendings,
contractions, or enlargements, and where they may con¬
tain sand or air, we should reckon on a smaller velocity
than what results from our calculation; and we presume
that an undertaker may with confidence promise | of
this quantity without any risk of disappointing his em¬
ployer. We imagine that the actual performance of
canals will be much nearer to the formula.
We have made inquiry after works of this kind exe¬
cuted in Britain, that we might compare them with the
formula. But all our canals are locked and without
motion; and we have only learned by an accidental in¬
formation from Mr Watt, that a canal in his neigh¬
bourhood, which is 18 feet wide at the surface, and
seven feet at the bottom, and four feet deep, and has a
slope of one inch in a quarter of a mile, runs with the
velocity of 17 inches per second at the surface, 10 at
the bottom, and 14 in the middle. If we compute
63
The veloci
the motion of this canal by our formula, we shall find
the mean velocity to be 13£.
No river in the world has had its motion so much
scrutinized as the Po about the end of the last century.
It had been a subject of 100 years continual litigation
between the inhabitants of the Bolognese and the Fer-
rarese, whether the waters of the Rheno should be
thrown into the Tronco de Venezia or Po Grande.
This occasioned very numerous measures to be taken of
its sections and declivity, and the quantities of water
which it contained in its different states of fulness.
But,unforlunately,the long established methods of mea¬
suring waters, which were in force in Lombardy, made
no account of the velocity; and not all the intreaties of
Castelli, Grandi, and other moderns, could prevail on
the visitors in this process to deviate from the established
methods. We have therefore no minute accounts of its
velocity, though there are many rough estimates to be
metwith in that valuable collectionpublishedat Florence
in 1723, of the writings on the motion of rivers. From
them we have extracted the 07ily precise observations
which are to be found in the whole work.
The Po Grande receives no river from Stellata to
the sea, and its slope in that interval is found most sur¬
prisingly uniform, namely, six inches in the mile (redu¬
ced to English measure). The breadth in its great
freshes is 759 feet at Lago Scuro, with a very uniform
depth of 31 feet. In its lowest state (in which it is
called Po Magra), its breadth is not less than 700, and
its depth about 10^.
The Rheno has a uniform declivity from the Ponte
Emilio to Vigarano of 15 inches per mile. Its breadth
in its greatest freshes is 189 feet, and its depth 9.
Signor Corrade in his report says, that in the state of
the great freshes the velocity of the Rheno is most ex¬
actly | of that of the Po.
Grandi says that a great fresh in the Rheno employs
12 hours (by many observations of his own) to come
from Ponte Emilio to Vigarno, which is 30 miles.
This is a velocity of 44 inches per second. And, by
Corrade’s proportion, the velocity of the Po Grande
must be 55 inches per second.
Montanari’s observation gives the Po Magra a velo¬
city of 31 inches per second.
Let us compare these velocities with the velocities cal¬
culated by Buat’s formula.
The hydraulic mean depths d and D of the Rheno
and Po in the great freshes deduced from the above
measures, are 98.6 and 344 inches ; and their slopes s
and S are and ^5^55* This will give
307Cv/hT—0.1) .
Vs"-Wf+1r6-0'3 ('/D-0-1 (= 5SM76mcllts
and — 0.3 (Jd — 0.1) = 46.727
y/S Ly/S -F 1.6
inches.
These results differvery littlefrom the velocities above
mentioned. And if the velocity corresponding to a
depth ot 31 feet be deduced from that observed by
Montanari in the Po Magra 10 feet deep, on the sup¬
position that they are in the proportion of y/d, it will
be found to be about 53£ inches per second.
This comparison is therefore highly to the credit of
the
Theory.
64
Observa¬
tions on
the velo¬
city of th
Po.
hart I. K I V
7 The' ry. the theory, ami would have been very agreeable to
* M. de Buat, had he known it, as we hope it is to our
fi5 readers.
lighly to have collected many accounts of water pipes, and
made the comparisons, and we flatter ourselves that these
ry. have enabled us to improve the theory. They shall ap¬
pear in their proper place: and, we may just observe
here, that the two-inch pipe, which we formerly spoke
of as conveying the water to Dunbar, should have yield¬
ed only 25§ Scotch pints per minute by the formula,
instead of 27; a small error.
We have, therefore, no hesitation in saying that this
single formula of the uniform motion of water is one
of the most valuable presents which natural science and
the arts have received during the course of this cen-
tury.
We hoped to have made this fortunate investigation
of the chevalier de Buat still more acceptable to our
readers by another table, which should contain the va¬
lues of ————ready calculated for every de-
; Js — L^+1.6
a- clivity that can occur in water pipes, cannls, or rivers.
Aided by this, which supersedes the only difficult part
of the computation, a person could calculate the velo¬
city for any proposed ca^e in less than two minutes.
But we have not been able to get it reedy for its ap¬
pearance in this article, but we shall not fail to give it
when we resume the subject in the article Water-
fVorks; and we hope even to give its results on a scale
which may be carried in the pocket, and will enable
the unlearned practitioner to solve any question with ac¬
curacy in halt a minute.
We have now established in some measure a Theory
of Hydraulics, by exhibiting a general theorem
which expresses the relation of the chief circumstances
of all such motions as have attained a state of perma¬
nency, in so far as this depends on the magnitude,
form, and slope of the channel. This permanency we
have expressed by the term train, sayingthat the stream
is in tram.
We proceed to con-iderthe subordinate circumstances
contained in this theorem ; such as, 1st, The forms
which nature or a t may give to the bed of a running
stream, and the manner of expressing this form in our
theorem. 2d, The gradations of the velocity, by which
it decreases in the different filaments, from the axis or
most rapid filament to the border; and the connection
of this v/ith the mean velocity, wdiich is expressed by
our formula. 3d, Having acquired some distinct no¬
tions of this, we shall be able to see the manner in which
undisturbed nature works in forming the beds of our ri¬
vers, the forms which she affects, and which we must
imitate in all their local modifications, if we would se¬
cure that permanency which is the evident aim of all
66 her operations. We shall here learn the mutual action
Regimen 0p current and its bed, and the circumstances which
slut.63113 ensiire 'he stability of both. These we may call the
regimen or the conservation of the stream, and may say
that it is in regimen, or in conservation. This has a re¬
lation, not to the dimensions and the slope alone, or to
the accelerating 'ovee and the resistance arising from
mere inertia ; it respects immediately the tenacity of the
bed, and is different from the train.
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
E K
. 4fh, These pieces of information will explain the de-
viation of rivers from the rectilineal course; the resistance
occasioned by these deviations ; and the circumstances
on which the regimen of a winding stream depends.
§ 1. Of the Forms of the Channel.
The numerator of the fraction which expresses the The semi-
velocity of a river in train has *Jd for one of its fac- circular
tors. That form, therefore, is most favourable to the t‘>rm most
motion which gives the greatest value to what we have Emotion0
called the hydraulic mean depth d. This is the prero- ’
gative of the semicircle, and here d is equal to half the
radius; and all other figures of the same area are the
more favourable, as they approach nearer to a semicircle.
This is the form, therefore, of all conduit pipes, and
should be taken for aqueducts which are built of ma¬
sonry. Ease and accuracy of execution, however, have
made engineers prefer a rectangular form ; but neither
of these will do for a channel formed out of the ground.
We shall soon see that the semicircle is incompatible i .
• ."i • ii Dbit in com*
>v itn a regimen; and, if we proceed through the regu- patible
lar polygons, we shall find that the half hexagon is the with regi-
only one which has any pretensions to a regimen ; yet men*
experience shows us, that even its banks are too steep
for almost any soil. A dry earthen bank, not bound
together by grass roots, will hardly stand with a slope
of 45 degrees ; and a canal which conveys running wa¬
ters will not stand with,this slope. Banks whose base Bankstfiat
is to their height as four to three will stand very well in stand best,
moist soils, and this is a slope very usually given. This
form is even affected in the spontaneous operations of
nature, in the channels which she digs for the rills and
rivulets in the higher and steeper grounds.
i bis form has some mathematical and mechanical
properties which intitle it to some further notice. Let
ABEC (fig. 12.) be such a trapezium, and AHGC Fig. 12.
the rectangle of equal width and depth. Bisect HB
and EG by the verticles FD and KI, and draw the
verticals 6 B, e E. Because AH : HB=3 : 4, we have
AB—5, and BD—2, and FD= 3, and BD-fDF =
BA. From these premises it follows, that the trape¬
zium ABEC has the same area with the rectangle; for
HB being bisected in D, the triangles ACE, BCD
are equal. Also the border ABEC, which is touched
by the passing stream, is equal to EDIK. Therefore
the mean depth, which is the quotient of the area divi¬
ded by the border, is the same in both ; and this is the
case, whatever is the width BE at the bottom, or even
though there be no rectangle such as b BE e interposed
between the slant sides. w
Of all rectangles, that whose breadth is twice the Best fomt
height, or which is half of a square, gives the greatest of a chan-
mean depth. If, therefore, FK be double of FD, the ne1,
trapezium ABEC, which has the same area, will have
the largest mean depth of any such trapezium, and will
be the best form of a channel for conveying running
waters. In this case, we have AC=10, AH=3, and
BE=:2. Or wre may say that the best form is atrape-
ziiun, whose bottom w idth is | of the depth, and w hose
extreme width is This form approaches very near
to that which the torrents in the hills naturally dig for
themselves in uniform ground, where their action is not
checked by stones which they lay bare, or which they
deposit in their course. This shows us, and it will be
fully cotifmned by and by, that tire channel of a river
t I i*
66
RIVE R
Part I.
Theory.
71
Estimate
of the ex¬
pence of a
running
stream.
72
l«ules for
finding the
dimensions,
is not a fortuitous thing, but has a relation to the con-
sistenc3^ o'l the soil and velocity of the stream.
A rectangle, whose breadth is f of the depth of wa¬
ter, will therefore have the same mean depth with a
triangle whose surface width is § of its vertical depth ;
for this is the dimensions when the rectangle b BE e is
taken away.
Let A be the area of the section of any channel, tv
its wid h (when rectangular), and h its depth of water.
Then what wre have called its mean depth, or <1, will be
A tv h
\v + 'k’ ~ n>-\-c2 h' ^ 9 exPresses the ratio of the
width to the depth of a rectangular bed ; that is, if
Ave have a very simple and ready expression for
the mean depth, either from the width or depth. For
, tv j q h
d= —, or —
«+2 5+2
Therefore, if the depth wex*e infinite, and the width
finite, we should have d=.~ ; or if the Avidth be infi-
2
nite, and the depth finite, Ave have d=h. And these
are the limits of the values of d ; and therefore in ri¬
vers whose width is always great in comparison of the
depth, we may without much error tike their real
depth for their hydraulic mean depth. Hence Ave de¬
rive a rule of easy recollection, and which Avill at all
times give us a very near estimate of the velocity ami
expence of a running stream, viz. that the velocities are
nearly as the square roots of the depths. We find this
confirmed by many experiments of Michelotti.
Also, when we are allowed to suppose this ratio of the
velocities and depths, that is, in a rectangular canal of
great breadth and small depth, Av e shall have the quan¬
tities discharged nearly in the proportion of the cubes
of the velocities. For the quantity discharged d is as
the velocity and area jointly, that, is, as the height and
velocity jointly, because when the Avidth is the same the
area is as the height. Therefore, we have d=h v—.
But, by the above remark, A+tr. Therefore, d=
v5; and this is confirmed by the experiments of Bossut,
vol. ii. 236. ALo, because is as w h, when tv is
constant, and by the above remark (allowable when
w is very great in proportion to h) v is as f h, we
have das h J h, or /Ǥ, or the squares of the discharges
proportional to the cubes of the heights in rectangular
beds, and in their corresponding trapeziums.
1. Knowing the mean depth and the proportion of
the width and real depth, Ave can determine the dimen¬
sions of the bed, and Ave haA'e tv—q t/ + 2 d, and h=zd
2d
+Y
2. If we knew the area and mean depth, Ave can in
like manner find the dimensions, that is, w and h ; for
A=r?*>//,and d———-r-: there fore tv — z±z v A2
, n + AI‘ 4t?“2A
+ h'
3. If d be known, and one of the dimensions be
other; for d=z—1~— gives
given, we can find the
2 h d
SV—
h—d’
and
tv d
w +2 h
TV—2 (l
4. If the velocity V and the slope & for a river in Theory,
train be given, we can find the mean depth ; for V= >—
/ 297 \ / 73
I r /g 0-3 )Wd—0.1.). Whence we rnetin
W^—L+S+Eb / ' depth,
deduce + rf-0.1 =   
 ===—0.3
+S—L^S + 1.6)
to this quantity +0.1. ^
5. We can deduce the slope which will put in train slope,
a river whose channel has given dimensions. We make
297 (Jrf-0.1)
V + 0.3 (fd-QA) V V
— L +S + 1.6, wdrich aa'c correct by trials, which will
be exemplified when we apply these doctrines to prac¬
tice.
Having thus established the relation between the dif¬
ferent circumstances of the. form of the channel to our
general formula, we proceed to consider,
§ 2. The Gradations of Velocity from the middle of the
Stream to the sides.
The knowledge of this is necessary for understanding
the regimen of a river ; for it is the velocity of the fila¬
ments in contact with the bed which produces any
change in it, and occasions any preference of one to
another, in respect of regimen or stability. Did these
circumstances not operate, the Avater, true to the laws
of hydraulics, and confined within the bounds which
have been assigned them, Avould neither enlarge nor di¬
minish the area of the channel. But this is all that we
can promise of waters perfectly clear, running in pipes
or hewn channel''. But rivers, brooks, and smaller
streams, carry along Avaters loaded with mud or sand,
which they deposit Avhei ever their v elocity is checked ,
and they tear up, on the other hand, the materials of
the channel wherever their velocity is sufficiently great.
Nature, indeed, aims continually at an equilibrium, and
works without ceasing to perpetuate her oavu perform¬
ances, by establishing an equality of action and reac¬
tion, and proportioning the forms and direction of the
motions to her agents, and to h eal circumstances. Her
work is slow but unceasing; and what she cannot ac¬
complish in a year she will do in a century. The beds
of our rivers have acquired some stability, because they
are the labour of ages ; and it is to time that Ave owe
those deep and wide valleys AA'hich receive and confine
our rivers in channels, Avhich are now consolidated, and
with slopes which have been gradually moderated, so
that they no longer either ravage our habitations or 75
confound our boundaries. Art may imitate nature, and Nature tj
by directing her operations (which shestill carries onac- be im,ita
cording to her own imprescriptible laws) according to “ “T
our views, we can hasten her progress, and accomplish streams,
our purpose, during the short period of human life.
But weean do this only by studying theunal erahle laws
of mechanism. These are presented to us by spontane¬
ous nature. Frequently we remain ignorant of their
oundation: but it is not necessary for the prospe¬
rity ot the subject that he have the talents of the sena¬
tor; he can profit by die statute without understand-
ing its grounds. It is so in the present instance. We
aave net as^yet been able to infer the law of retardation
observed
art I.
Theory-
ft I V E ft.
67
76
IWS of
veloci*
s of dif-
ent por-
ns of the
77
lean ve-
city,
observed in tbe filaments of a running stream from any
' sound mechanical principle. The problem, however,
does not appear beyond our powers, if we assume, with
Sir Isaac Newton, that the velocity of any particular
filament is the arithmetical mean between those of the
filaments immediately adjoining. We may be assured,
that the filament in the axis of an inclined cylindrical
tube, of which the current is in train, moves the fastest,
and that all those in the same circumference round it are
those which glide along the pipe. We may affirm the
same thing of the motions in a semi-cylindrical inclined
channel conveying an open stream. But even in these
we have not yet demonstrated the rafio between the ex¬
treme velocities, nor in the different circles. This must
be decided experimentally.
And here we are under great obligations to Mr de
Buat. He has compared the velocity in the axis of a
prodigious number and variety of streams, differing in
size, form, slope, and velocity, and has computed in them
all the mean velocity, by measuring the quantities of
water discharged in a given time. His method of mea¬
suring the bottom velocity was simple and just. He
threw in a gooseberry, as nearly as possible of the same
specific gravity with the water. It was carried along
the bottom almost without touching it. Sec Resist¬
ance of Fluids, N° 6'7-
He discovered the following laws : 1. In small ve’o-
cities the velocity in the axis is to that at the bottom
in a ratio of considerable inequality. 2. This ratio di¬
minishes as the velocity increases, and in very great ve¬
locities approaches to the ratio of equality. 3. What
was most remarkable was, that neither the magnitude of
the channel, nor its slope, had any influence in changing
this proportion, while the mean velocity remained the
-same. Nay, though the stream ran on a channel co¬
vered with pebbles or coarse sand, no difference worth
minding w’as to be observed from the velocity over a
polished channel. 4<. And if the velocity in the axis is
constant, the velocity at the bottom is also constaht, and
is not affected by the depth of wrater or magnitude of
the stream. In some experiments the depth wr^s thrice
the width, and in others the width was thrice the depth.
This changed the proportion of the magnitude of the
section to the magnitude ol the rubbing part, but made
no change on the ratio of the velocities. This is a thing
which no theory could point out.
Another mo t important fact was also the result of his
observation, viz. that the mean velocity hi any pipe or
opeti stream is the arithmetical mean betmecn the velocity
in the axis and the velocity at the sides of a pipe or hot-
tom of an open stream. We have already observed, that
the ratio of the velocity in the axis to the velocity at the
bottom diminished as the mean velocity increased. This
variation he was enabled to express in a very simple
manner, so as to be easily remembered, and to enable
us to tell any one of them by observing another.
Iftve take unity from the square root of the superficial
Velocity, expressed in inches, the square of the remainder
is the velocity at the hot taut ; and the mean velocity is the Theory.
haf sum of these two. Thus, if the velocity in the
middie of the stream be 25 inches per second, its square
root is five; from which if we take unity, there remains
four. The square of this, or 16, is the velocity at the
, 25+If)
bottom, and—^—, or 20|, is the mean velocity.
This is a very curious and most useful piece of infor¬
mation. The velocity in the middle of the stream is
the easiest measured of all, by any light small body float¬
ing down it ; and the mean velocity is the one which
regulates the train, the discharge, the effect on machines,
and all the most important consequences. ; s
We may express this by a formula of most easy re- expressed
collection. Let V be the mean velocity, v the velo-. by a for-
city in the axis, and u the velocity at the bottom ; we mu1a-
—r- 2 V-\-U
have u = fv—1, and V = —^—
Also v — (s/V—t + fff, and v — (fu + I)!.
V = (VtT-4)2 + + and V = (
u = (v+ —l)2 andw = (W—T—j)2.
Also v—u — 2 X/V —T and v—V, ^ V—u, —
W—1; that is, the difference between these velo¬
cities increases in the ratio of the square roots of the
mean velocities diminished by a small constant quan¬
tity.
This may perhaps give the mathematicians some help
in ascertaining the law of degradation from the axis to
the sides. Thus, in a cylindrical pipe, wre may conceive
the current as consisting of an infinite number of cylin¬
drical shells sliding within each other hke the drawtubes
of a spy-glass. Each of these is in equilibrio, or as much
accelerated by the one within it as it is retarded by the
one without; therefore as the momentum of each dimi¬
nishes in the proportion of its diameter (the thickness
being supposed the same in all), the velocity of separa¬
tion must increase by a certain law from the sides to the
axis. The magnitude of the small constant quantity
here spoken of seems to fix this law. ^
The place of the mean velocity could not be disco- piatc 0f
vered with any precision. In moderate velocities it was the mean
not more than one-fourth or one-fifth of the depth dis- veloc!ty
tant from the bottom. In very great velocities it wras
sensibly higher, but never in the middle of the depth.
The knowledge of these three velocities is of great
importance. The superficial velocity is easily observed ;
hence the mean velocity is easily computed. This mul¬
tiplied by the section gives the expence ; and if w'e also
measure the expanded border, and then obtain the mean
depth (or fd), we can, by the formula of uniform mo¬
tion, deduce the slope, or, knowing the slope, we can
deduce any of the other circumstances.
The following table of these three velocities will save
the trouble of calculation in one of the most frequent
questions of hydraulics.
12 Velocity
68
Theory.
RIVER,
Part I,
Theory.
80
Table of
the three
principal
velocities.
Sur¬
face.
Velocity in Inches.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
Bottom.
0.000
0.172
0.537
1.
I. 526
2.1
2.709
3.342
4.
4.674
5.369
6.071
6.786
7.553
8.254
9-
9-753
10.463
II. 283
12.055
12.674
13.616
14.402
15.194
16.
16.802
17.606
18.421
19.228
20.044
20.857
21.678
22.506
Mean.
0.5
1.081
I. 768
2.5
3.263
4.050
4.854
5.67
6.5
7.337
8.184
9-036
9 893
10.756
II. 622
12.5
13.376
14.231
15.141
16.027
16.837
17.808
18.701
19.597
20.5
21.401
22.303
23 210
24.114
25.022
25.924
26.839
27.753
Velocity in Inches.
Sur¬
face.
Bottom.
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
64
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
Mean.
23.339
24.167
25.
25.827
26.667
27-51
28.345
29.192
30.030
30.880
31.742
32.58 l
33.432
34.293
35.151
36.
36.857
37.712
38.564
39-438
40.284
41.165
42.016
42.968
43.771
44.636
45.509
46.376
47.259
48.136
49.
49.872
50.751
Sur¬
face.
28.660
29 583
30.5
31.413
32.338
33.255
34.172
35.096
36.015
36.940
37.871
38.790
39.716
40 646
41.570
42.5
43.428
44.356
45.282
46.219
47.142
48 082
49.OO8
49.984
50.886
51.818
52.754
53.688
54.629
55.568
56.5
57.436
58.376
Velocity in Inches.
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
Bottom.
51.639
52.505
53.392
54.273
55.145
56 025
56.862
57.790
58.687
59.568
60.451
61.340
62.209
63.107
64.
64.883
65.780
66.651
67.568
68.459
69.339
70.224
71.132
72.012
72.915
73.788
74.719
75.603
76.51
77.370
78.305
79-192
80.120
81.
Mean.
59.319
60.252
61.196
62.136
63.072
64.012
64.932
65.895
66.843
67.784
68.725
69.670
70.605
71.553
72.5
73.441
74.390
75.325
76.284
77-229
78.169
79.H2
80.066
81.006
81.957
82.894
83.859
84.804
85.755
86.685
87.652
88.596
89.56
90.5
The knowledge of the velocity at the bottom is of
the greatest use for enabling us to judge of the action of
the stream on its bed ; and we shall now make some
^ observations on this particular.
Operation Every kind of soil has a certain velocity consistent
of the with the stability of the channel. A greater velocity
stream on would enable the waters to tear it up, and a smaller ve-
itsbed, locity would permit the deposition of more moveable
materials from above. It is not enough, then, for the
stability of a river, that the accelerating forces are so
adjusted to the size and figure of its channel that the
current may be in train : it must also be in equilibrio
with the tenacity of the channel.
We learn from observation, that a velocity of three
inches per second at the bottom will just begin to work
upon fine clay fit for pottery, and however firm and
compact it may be, it w ill tear it up. Yet no beds are
more stable than clay when the velocities do not exceed
this: for the water soon takes away the impalpable
particles of the superficial clay, leaving the particles of
sand sticking by their lower half in the rest of the clay,
which they now protect, making a. very permanent bot¬
tom, if the stream does not bring down gravel or coarse
sand, which will rub off this very thin crust, and allow
another layer to be worn off; a velocity of six inches
will lift fine sand; eight inches will lift sand as coarse
as linseed; 12 inches will sweep along fine gravel;
24 inches will roll along rounded pebbles an inch dia¬
meter ; and it requires three feet per second at the bot¬
tom to sweep along shivery angular stones of the size
of an egg. g2
The manner in which unwearied nature carries on how can:
some of these operations is curious, and deserves to be on.
noticed a little. All must recollect the narrow ridges
or wrinkles which are left on the sand by a temporary
fresh or stream. They are observed to lie across the
stream, and each ridge consists of a steep face AD, BF
(fig 13.) w'hich looks down the stream, and a gentler Fig. 13-
slope DB, FC, which connects this w'ith the next ridge.
As the stream comes over the first steep AD, it is di¬
rected almost perpendicularly against the point E im¬
mediately below D, and thus it gets hold of a particle
of coarse sand, which it could not have detar hed from
the rest had it been moving parallel to the surface of it.
It easily rolls it up the gentle slope EB ; arrived there,
the particle tumbles over the ridge, and lies close at the
bottom of it at F, where it is protected by the little
eddy, which is formed in the very angle; other par¬
ticles
E E.
obstruction, which we consider as a sort of friction, we
shall have F =: —
s
Thus, let it be required to determine in pounds the
resistance or friction on a square yard of a channel
whose current is in train, which is 10 feet wide, four
feet deep, and has a slope of one foot in a mile. Here
E is nine feet. Ten feet width and four feet depth give
a section of 40 feet. The border is IS feet. There-
„ 40
fore d — — =z2A 111, and s is 5280. Therefore the
18
friction is the weight of a column of water whose base
in nine feet, and height J^LLLL, or nearly 3T6C ounces
avoirdupois.
] irt T. It I V
heory. tides, lying about E, are treated in the same way, and,
» tumbling over the ridge B, cover the first particle, and
now protect it effectually from any farther disturbance.
The same operation is going on at the bottom of each
ridge. The brow or steep of the ridge gradually ad¬
vances down the stream, and the whole set change
their places, as represented by the dotted line a d bf;
and after a certain time the particle which was de¬
posited in F is found in an unprotected situation, as
it was in E, and it now makes another step down the
stream.
The Abbe Bossut found, that when the velocity of
the stream was just sufficient for lifting the sand (and a
small excess hindered the operation altogether) a ridge
advanced about 20 feet in a day.
Since the current carries off the most moveable mat¬
ters of the channel, it leaves the bottom covered with
the remaining coarse sand, gravel, pebbles, and larger
stones. To these are added many which come down the
stream while it is more rapid, and also many which roll
in from the sides as the banks wear away. All these
form a bottom much more solid and immoveable than a
bottom of the medium soil would have been. But this
does not always maintain the channel in a permanent
form ; but frequently occasions great changes, by obli¬
ging the current, in the event of any sudden fresh or
swell, to enlarge its bed, and even to change it alto¬
gether, by working to the right and to the lei't, since it
cannot work downwards. It is generally from such ac¬
cumulation of gravel and pebbles in the bottom of the
bed that rivers change their channels.
Itremains to ascertain, in absolute measures, the force
which a current really exerts in attempting to drag along
with it the materials of its channel ; and which will
produce this effect unless resisted by the inertia of these
materials. It is therefore of practical importance to
know this force.
Nor is it abstruse or difficult. For when a current
is in train, the accelerating force is in equilibrio with
the resistance, and is therefore its immediate measure.
Now this accelerating force is precisely equal to the
weight of the body of w ater in motion multiplied by
the fraction which expresses the slope. The mean depth
being equal to the quotient of the section divided by
the border, the section is equal to the product of the
mean depth multiplied by the border. Therefore, call¬
ing the border b, and the mean depth d, we have the
section —db. The body of water in motion is there¬
fore dbs (because s was the slant length of a part
whose difference of elevation is 1), and the accelerating
forces is dbs x or db. But if we would only consi-
s
der this resistance as corresponding to an unit of the
length of the channel, we must divide the quantity d b
by s, and the resistance is then—. And if we would
s
consider the resistance only for an unit of the border,
we must divide this expression by b ; and thus this re¬
sistance (taking an inch for the unit) wdll be expressed
for one square inch of the bed by the weight of a
bulk of water which has a square inch for its base, and
d
- for its height. And lastly, if E be taken for any
s
given superficial extent of the channel or bed, and F the
§ 3. Settlement of the Beds of Rivers.
83
He who looks with a careless eye at a map of the Simplicity
world, is apt to consider the rivers which ramble over and wisdom
its surface as a chance-medley disposition of the drainers dlsPIaye^ m
which carry off the waters. But it will afford a most ofriTers^
agreeable object to a considerate and contemplative
mind to take it up in this very simple light; and having
considered the many ways in which the drenched sur¬
face might have been cleared of the superfluous waters,
to attend particularly to the very way which nature has
followed. In following the troubled waters of a moun¬
tain torrent, or the pure streams which Trickle from
their bases, till he sees them swallowed up in the ocean,
and in attending to the many varieties in their motions,
he will be delighted with observing how the simplelaws
of mechanism are made so fruitful in good consequences,
both by modifying the motions of the waters them¬
selves, and also by inducing new forms on the surface
of the earth, fitted for re-acting on the waters, and pro¬
ducing those very modifications of their motions which
render them so beneficial. The permanent beds of ri¬
vers are by no means fortuitous gutters hastily scooped
out by dashing torrents; but both they and the vallevs
through which they flow are the patient but unceasing
labours of nature, prompted by goodness and directed
by wisdom.
Whether we trace a river from the torrents which
collect the superfluous waters of heaven, or from the
springs which discharge what would otherwise be con¬
demned to perpetual inactivity, each feeder is but a
little rill which could not ramble far from its scanty
source among growing plants and absorbent earth,
without being sucked up and evaporated, did it not
meet with other rills in its course. When united they
form a body of water still inconsiderable, but much
more able, by its bulk, to overcome the little obstacles
to its motion ; and the rivulet then moves with greater
speed, as we have now learned. At the same time, the
surface exposed to evaporation and absorption is dimi¬
nished by the union of the rills. Four equal rills have
only the surface of two when united. Thus the por¬
tion which escapes arrestment, and travels downward,
is continually increasing. This is a happy adjustment
to the other operations of nature. Were it otherwise,
the lower and more valuable countries would be lorded
with the passing waters in addition to dn.ir own sur¬
plus rains, and the immediate neighbourhood of the sea
would be almost covered by the drains of the interior
countries.
no
Theory.
84
Their ef¬
fect on the
countries
through
which they
pass.
It I
countries. But, fortunately, tho e passing waters occu¬
py less room as they advance, and by this wise employ¬
ment of the most simp e means, not only are the super¬
fluous waters drained off from our fertile fields, but the
drains themselves become an useful part of the country
by their magnitude. They become the habitation ot
a prodigious number of fishes, which share the Crea¬
tor’s bounty ; and they become the means of mutual
communication of all the blessings of cultivated society.
The vague ramblings of the rivers scatter them over the
face of the country, and bring them to every door. It
is not even an indifferent circumstance, that they gather
strength to cut out deep beds for themselves. By this
means they cut open many springs. Without this the
produce of a heavy shower would make a swamp which
would not dry up in many days. And it must be ob¬
served, that the same heat which is necessary for the vi¬
gorous growth of useful plants will produce a very copi¬
ous evaporation. This must return in showers much too
copious for immediate vegetation, and the overplus
would be destructive. Is it not pleasant to contemplate
this adjustment of the great operations of nature, so dif¬
ferent from each other, that if chance alone directed the
detail, it was almostan infiniteodds that the earth would
be uninhabitable ?
But let us follow the waters in their operations, and
note the face of the countries through which they flow :
attending to the breadth, the depth, and the slope of
the vall es, we shall be convinced that their present situ¬
ation is extremely different from what it was in ancient
days ; and that the valleys themselves are the works of
the rivers, or at least of waters which have descended
from the heights, loaded with all the lighter matters
which they were able to bring away wi h them. The ri¬
vers flow now inbeds which have.a considerable perma¬
nency ; but this has been the work of ages. This has
given stability, both by filling up and smoothing the val¬
leys. and thus ies;ening the changing causes, and ako by
hardening the beds themselves which are now covered
with aquatic plants, and lined with the stones, gravel,
and coarser sand, out of which all the lighter matters
have been washed away.
The surface of the high grounds is undergoing a con¬
tinual change; and the ground on which we now walk
is by no means the same which was trodden by our re¬
mote ancestors. The showers from heaven carry down
into the vallies, or sweep along by the torrents, a part
of the soil which covers the heights and steeps. The tor¬
rents carry this soil into the brooks, and these deliver
part of it into the great rivers, and these discharge into
the «ea this fertilizing fat of the earth, where it is swal¬
lowed up, andforever lost for the purposes of vegetation.
Thus the hillocks lose of their height, the vallies are
filled up, and the mountains are laid bare, and show
their naked precipices, which formerly were covered
over with a flesh and skin, but nowlook liketheskeleton
of this glebe. The low countries, raised and nourished
for some time by the substance of the high lands, will
go in their turn to be buried in the ocean : and then
the earth, reduced to a dreary flat, will become an
immense uninhabitable mass. This catastrophe is far
distant, because this globe is inks youth, but it is not
the less certain ; and the united labours of the human
race could not long protract tire term.
But, in the mean time, we can trace a beneficent
V E R. Part I.
purpose, and a nice adjustment of seemingly remote cir- Theory,
cumatances. The grounds near the sources of all our
rivers are indeed gradually stripped of their most fertile .85
ingredients. But had they retained them for ages, the ®enjfif«ice
sentient inhabitants of the earth, or at least the nobier
animals, withman at their head, would not have derived •changes
much advantage from it. The general laws of nature they pro-
produce changes in our atmosphere which must ever duce*
render these great elevations unfruitful. That ge¬
nial warmth, which is equally necessary for the useful
plant as for the animal which lives on it, is confined to
the lower grounds. The earth, which on the top of
Mount Haemus could only bringforth moss and dittany,
when brought into the gardens of Spalatro, produced
pot-herbs so luxuriant, that Dioclesiantold hiscolleague
Maximian that he had more pleasure in their cultiva¬
tion than the Homan empire could confer. Thus na¬
ture not only provides us manure, but conveys it to our
fields. She even keeps it s; fe in store for us till it shall
be wanted. The tracts of country which are but new¬
ly inhabited by man, such as great part of America,
and the newly discovered regions of Terra Australis,
are still almost occupied by marshesand lakes, or covered
with impenetrable forests ; and they would remain long
enough in this state, if population, continually increa¬
sing, did not increase industry, and multiply the hands
of cultivators along w ith their necesTties. The Author
of Nature was alone able to form the huge ridges of
the mountains, to model the hillocks and the valleys, to
mark out the courses of the great rivers, and give the
first trace to every rivulet; but has left to man the task
of draining his own habitation and the fields which are
to support him, because this is a task not beyond his
powers. It was therefore of immense advantage to
him that those parts of the globe into which he has
not yet penetrated shou'd remain covered with lakes,
marshes, and fo.ests, which keep in store the juice of
the earth, which the influence of the air and the vivi¬
fying warmth of the sun would have expended long ere
now in useless vegetation, and which the rains of heaven
wmiild have swept into the sea, bad they not (seen thus
protected by their situation or their cover. It is there¬
fore thebusiness of man to open up these mines of hoard¬
ed wealth, and to thank the Author of all good, who
has thus husbanded them for his use, and left them as a
rightful heritage for those of after days.
The earth had not in the remote ages, as in our day,
thosegreat canals, those capacious voiders, always ready
to drain off the rain waters (of winch only pan is ab¬
sorbed by the thirsty ground), and the pime waters
of the springs from the foot of the hill . The rivers
did not then exist, or were only torrents, whose waiers,
confined by the gullies and g ens, are searching for a
place to escape. Hence arise those numerous lakes in
the interior of great continents, of wdiich there are still
remarkable relicks in North America, which in pro¬
cess of time will disappear, and become champaign
countries. The most remote from the sea, uviable to
contain its waters, finds an issue through some gorge of
the hiBs, and pours over its superfluous waters into a
lower bason, which, in its turn, discharges its contents
into another, and the last of the chain delivers its wa¬
ters by a river into the ocean. The communication
was originally begun by a simple overflowing at the
Icnvest part of the margin. This made a tonent, which
quickly
’art I.
HIVE II.
71
Theory, quickly deepened its bed ; and this circumstance increa-
sing its velocity, as we have seen, won d extend tins
deepening backward to the lake, and draw off'more of
its waters. The work would goon rapidly at first, while
earth and small stones only resisted the labours of na¬
ture; but the;e being washed away, and the channel
hollowed out to the firm rock on all sides, the operation
must go on very slowly, till the immense cascade shall
undermine what it cannot break off', and then a new
discharge wM commence, and a quantity of flat ground
will emerge all round the lake. The torrent, in the
mean time, makes its way down the country, and digs
a canal, which may be called the first sketch of a river,
which will deepen and widen its bed continually. The
water of several basons united, and running together in
a great body, will (according to the principles we have
established) have a much greater velocity, with the
same slope, than those of the lakes in the interior parts
of the continent; and the sum of them all united in
the bason next the sea, after having broken through
its natural mound, will make a prodigious torrent,
which will dig for itself abed so much the deeper as it
has more slope and a greater body of waters.
The formation of the first valleys, by cutting open
many springs which were formerly concealed under
ground, will an’d to the mass of running Avaters, and
contribute to drain off the waters of these basons. In
course of time many of them will disappear, and flat
valleys among the mountains and hills are the traces of
their former existence.
When nature thus traces out the courses of future
rivers, it is to be expected that those streams will most
deepen their channels Avhieh in their approach to the
sea receive into their bed the greatest quantities of
rain and spring Avaters, and that towards the middle of
the continent they will deepen their channels less. In
these last situations the na'ural slope of thefie'ds cau es
the rain-water, rills, and the little rivulets from the
springs, to seek their ways to the rivers. The ground
can sink only by the flattening of the hills and high
grounds; and this must proceed with extreme slowness,
because it is only the gentle, though incessant work of
the rains and springs. But the rivers, increasing in hulk
and strength, and of necessity flowing over every thing,
form to themselves capacious beds in a more yielding
soil, and dig them even to the level of the ocean.
1 he beds of rivers by no means form themselves in
one inclined plane. If we should suppose a canal AB
(fig. 14.) perfectly straight and horizontal at B, Avhere
it joins with the sea, this canal would really be an in¬
clined channel of greater and greater slope as it is far¬
ther from B. This is evident; because gravity is di¬
rected towards the centre of the earth, and the angle
CAB contained between the channel and the plumb-
line at A is smader than the similar angle CDB ; and
consequently the inclination to the horizon is greater in
A than in D. Such a canal therefore would make the
bed of a river ; and some have thought that this Avas
the real form of nature's work; but the supposition is
a Avhim, and it is false. No river has a slope at all ap¬
proaching to this. It would be eight inches declivity
in the mile next the ocean, 24 inches in the second
mile, 40 inches in the third, and so on in the duplicate
ratio (for the whole elevation) of the distances from the
sea. Such a river would quickly tear up its bed in the
Theory.
86
eds of rl
2rs not
rnitd in
ie incli-
ed plane
ig> 14.
87
mountains (were there any grounds high enough to re¬
ceive it), and, except its first cascade, would soon ac¬
quire a more gentle slope. But the fact is, and it is the
result of the imprescriptible laws of nature, that the con¬
tinued track of a river is a succession of inclined chan¬
nels, whose slope diminishes by steps as the river ap¬
proaches to the sea. It is not enough to say that this re¬
sults from the natural slope of the countries through
which it flows, Avhich Ave observe to increase in declivity
as Ave go to the interior parts of the continent. Were
it otherwise, the equilibrium at which nature aims in sL
her operations would still produce the gradual diminu¬
tion of the slope of rivers. Without it they could not
be in a permanent train.
That we may more easily form a notion of the man- How the
ner in Avhich the permanent course of a river is esta- permanent
blished, let us suppose a stream or rivulet s a (fig. 15.) c?urs? ot a
far up the country, makes its way through a soil per- e'ta"
fectly uniform to the sea, taking the course sab c de f} ppt. pj.
and receiving the permanent additions of the streams g a, °
h b, i c, k d, l e, and that its velocity and slope in all
its parts are so suited to the tenacity of the soil and
magnitude of its section, that neither do its waters du¬
ring the annual freshes tear up its banks or d epen its
bed, nor do they bring down from the high lands ma¬
terials which they deposit in the channel in times of
smaller velocity. Such a river may be s-id to be in a
permanent state, to be in conservation, or to have stability.
Let us call this state of a river its regimen, denoting
byr the word the proper adjustment of the velocity of
the stream to the tenacity of the channel. The velo¬
city of its regimen must be- the same throughout, be¬
cause it is this which regulates its action on the bottom,
Avhich is the same from its head to the sea. That its
bed may have stability, the mean velocity of the current
must be constant, notAvithstanding the inequality of dis¬
charge through its different sections by the brooks
which it receives in its course, and notwithstanding the
augmentation of its section as it approaches the sea.
On the other hand, it behoved this exact regimen to
commence at the mouth of the river, by the working
of the whole body of the river, in concert Avith the wa¬
ters of the ocean, which always keep within the same
limits, and make the ultimate level invariable. This
working Avill begin to dig the bed, giving it as little
breadth as possible : for this working consists chit fly in
the efforts of falls and rapid streams, which arise of
themselves in every channel Avhich has too much slope.
The bottom deepens, and the sides remain very steep,
till they are undermined and crumble down ; and being
then diluted in the water, they are carried down the
stream and deposited Avhere the ocean checks its speed.
The banks crumble down anew, the valley or hollow-
forms ; but the section, always confined to its bottom,
cannot acquire a great breadth, arid it retains a good
deal of the form of the trapezium formerly mentioned.
In this manner does the regimen begin to be established
from f to e.
With respect to the next part d e, the discharge or
produce is diminished by the want of the brook l e. It
must take a similar form, but its area wdl bediminished
in order that its velocity may be the -arne : and its mean
depth d being less than in die portion e f below, the
slope must be greater. With ut these conditions we
could not have the uniform velocity, which the assumed
permanency
A
HIV
Theory
88
This pro¬
cess of na¬
ture
89
confirmed
by example.
90
Effects of
freshes.
permanency in "an uniform soil naturally supposes.
Reasoning after the same manner for all the portions
c d, h c, a b, s a, we see that the regimen will be succes¬
sively established in them, and that the slope necessary
for this purpose wid be greater as we approach the river
head. The vertical section or profile of the course of
the river s a bed ef will therefore resemble the line
SABCDEF which is sketched below, having its differ¬
ent parts variously inclined to the horizontal line HF.
Such is the process of nature to be ob?.erved in every
river on the surface of the globe. It long appeared a
kind of puzzle to the theorists ; and it was this obser¬
vation of the increasing, or at least this continued velo¬
city with smaller slope, as the rivers increased by the
addition of their tributary streams, which caused Gu-
glielmini to have recourse to his new principle, the ener¬
gy of deep waters. We have now seen in what this
energy consists. It is only a greater quantity of mo¬
tion remaining in the middle of a great stream of wa¬
ter after a quantity has been retarded by the sides and
bottom ; and we see clearly, that since the addition of
a new and perhaps an equal stream does not occupy a
bed of double surface, the proportion of the retarda¬
tions to the remaining motion must continually diminish
as a river increases by the addition of new streams. If
therefore the slopie were not diminished, the regimen
would be destroyed, and the river would dig up its chan¬
nel. We have a full confirmation of this in the many
works which have been executed on the Po, which runs
with rapidity through a rich and yielding soil. About
the year 16'00, the waters of the Panaro, a very con¬
siderable river, were added to the Po Grande; and al¬
though it brings along with it in its freshes a vast quan¬
tity of sand and mud, it has greatly deepened the whole
Tronco di Venezia from the confluence to the sea.
This point was clearly ascertained by Manfredi about
the 1720, when the inhabitants of the valleys adjacent
were alarmed by the project of bringing in the waters
of the Rheno, which then ran through the Ferrarese.
Their fears were overcome, and the Po Grande conti¬
nues to deepen its channel every day with a prodigious
advantage to the navigations ; and there are several ex¬
tensive marshes which now drain off by it, after having
been for ages under water : and it is to be particularly
remarked, that the Rher.o is the foulest river in its
freshes of any in that country. We insert this remark,
because it may be of great practical utility, as pointing
out a method of preserving and even improving the
depth of rivers or drains in flat countries, which is not
obvious, and ra her appears improper: but it is strictly
conformable to a true theory, and to the operations of
nature, which never fails to adjust every thing so as to
bring about an equilibrium. Whatever the declivity of
the country may liave been originally, the regimen be¬
gins to be settled at the mouths of the rivers, and the
slopes are diminished in succession as werecede from the
coast. The original slopes inland may have been much
greater; but they will (when busy nature has com¬
pleted her work) be left somewhat, end only so much
greater, that the velocity may be the same notwith¬
standing the diminution of the section and mean depth.
Freshes will disturb this methodical progress relative
only to the successive permanent additions ; but their
effects chiefly accelerate the deepening of the bed, and
the diminution of the slope, by augmenting the velo-
E R. Parti.
c:ty during their continuance. Rut when the regimen Theory,
of the permanent additionsis onceestablished, the freshes WyW
tend chiefly to widen the bed, without greatly deepen¬
ing it: for the aquatic plants, which have been growing
and thriving during the peaceable state of the river, are
now laid along, but not swept away, by the freshes,
and protect the bottom from their attacks ; and the
stones and gravel, which must have been left bare in a
course of years, wnrking on the soil, will also collect in
the bottom, and greatly augment its power of resist¬
ance ; and even if the floods should have deepened the
bottom some small matter, seme mud will be deposited
as the velocity of the freshes diminishes, and this will
remain till the next flood.
We have supposed the soil uniform through the whole
course : This seldom happens; therefore the circum¬
stances which insure permanency, or the regimen of a
river, may be very different in its different parts and
in different rivers. We may say in general, that the
farther that the regimen has advanced up the stream in
any river, the more slowly will it cotivey its waters to
the sea.
There are some general circumstances in the motion
of rivers which it will be proper to take notice of just
now, that they may not interrupt our more minute ex¬
amination of their mechanism, and their explanations
will then occur of themselves as corollaries of the pro¬
positions which we shall endeavour to demonstrate.
In a valley of small width the river always occupies
the lowest part of it ; and it is observed, that this is In narrow
seldom in the middle of the valley, and is nearest to lhat valleys ii-
side on which the slope from the higher grounds is vers adhete
steepest, and this without regard to the line of its course.
The river generally adheres to the steepest hills, whether hills,
they advance into the plain or retire from it. This
general feature may be observed, over the whole globe.
Itis divided i n to om parturients by great ranges of moun¬
tains ; and it may be observed, that the great rivers hold
their course not very far from them, and that their chief
feeders come from the otherside In every compartment
there is a swell of the low country at a distance from
the bounding ridge of mountains; and on the summit
of this swell the principal feeders of the great river have
their sources.
The name valley is given with less propriety to these
immense regions, and is more applicable to tracts of
champaign land which the eye can take in at one view.
Even here we may observe a resemblance. It is not
always in the very lowest part of this valley that the
river has its bed; although the waters of the river flow
in a channel below its immediate banks, these banks are
frequently higher than the grounds at the foot of the
hills. *1 his I.-, very distinctly seen in Lower Esypt, by
means ot the canals which are carried backward from
the bale for accelerating its fertilizing inundations.
When the calishes are opened to admit the waters, itis
always observed that the districts most remote are the
firstcovered, and it is several days before the immediate¬
ly adjoining fields partake of the blessing. This is
a consequence of that general opinion of nature by
which the valleys are formed. The river in its floods
is loaded with mud, which it retains as long as it
rolls rapidly along its limited bed, tumbling its waters
over and over, and taking up in every spot as much as
it deposits : but as soon as it overflows its banks, the
very
’art I.
It I V E ft.
Theory.
92
he bed
■ rivers
enlarged
;ar the
93
le water
-ing
iccked by
iC tides
'the o-
an.
very en1ar(?ement of its section diminishes the velocity
of the water; and it may be observed stiil running in
the track of its bed with great velocity, while the wa¬
ters on each side are stagnant at a very small distance:
Therefore the water, on getting over the banks, must
deposit the heaviest, the firmest, and even the greatest
part of its burden, and tnust become gradually clearer
as it approaches the hilK Thus a gentle slope is given
to the valley in a direction which is the reverse of what
one would expect. It is, however, almost always the
case in wide valleys, especially if the great river comes
through a soft country. The banks of the b>ooks and
ditches are observed to be deeper as they approach the
river, and the merely superficial drains run backwards
from it.
We have already observed, that the enlargement of
the bed of a river, in its approach to the sea, is not in
proportion to the increase of its waters. This would be
the case even if the velocity continued the same: and
therefore, since the velocity increases, in consequence
of the greater energy of a large body of water, which
we now understand distinctly, a still smaller bed is suf¬
ficient for conveying all the water to the sea.
This general law is broken, however, in the imme¬
diate neighbourhood of the sea; because in this situa¬
tion the velocity of the water is checked by the passing
flood-tides of the ocean. As the whole waters must
still be discharged, they require a larger bed, and the
enlargement will be chiefly in width. The sand and
mud are deposited when the motion is retarded. The
depth of the mouth of the channel is therefore dimi¬
nished. It must therefore become wider. If this be
done on a coast exposed to the force of a regular tide,
which carries the waters of the ocean across the mouth
of the river, this regular enlargement of the mouth will
be the only consequence, and it will generally widen
till it washes the foot of the adjoining bids; but if
there be no tide in the sea, or a tide which does not
set across the mouth of the river, the sands must be de¬
posited at the sides of the opening, and become addi¬
tions to the shore, lengthening the mouth of the chan¬
nel. In this sheltered situation, every trivial circum¬
stance will cause the river to work more on particular
parts of the bottom, and deepen the channel there.
This keeps the mud suspended in such parts of the
channel, and it is not deposited till the stream has shot
fasther out into the sea. It is deposited on the sides
of those deeper parts of the channel, and increases the
velocity in them, and thus still farther protracts the de¬
position. Rivers so situated will not only lengthen their
channels, but will divide them, and produce islands at
their mouths. A bush, a tree torn up by the roots by
a mountain torrent, and floated down the stream, will
thus inevitably produce an island ; and rivers in which
this is common will be continually shifting their mouths.
I he Mississippi is a most remarkable instance of this.
It has a long course through a rich soil, and disem¬
bogues itselt into the b*y of Mexico, in a place where
there is no passing tide, as maybe seen by compai ing the
hours of high water in different places. No river that
we know carries down its stream such numbers of root¬
ed-up trees ; t;iey frequently interrupt .he navigation,
and render it always dangerous in the night-time. This
river is so beset with flats and shifting sand? f-t its
mouth, that the most experienced pilots are puzzled •
Vol. XVIII, Part I.
and it has protruded its channel above 50 miles in the
short period that we have known it. The discharge of
the Danube is very similar : so is that of the Nile; for
it is discharged into a still corner of the Mediterranean.
It may now be said to have acquired considerable per¬
manency; butmuch of this is owing to human industry,
which strips it as much as possible of its subsideable
matter. The Ganges too is in a situation pretty similar,
and exhibits similar phenomena. The Maragnon might
be noticed as an exception ; but it is not an exception.
It has flowed very far in a level bed, and its waters
come pretty clear to Para; but besides, there is a strong
transverse tide, or rather current, at its mouth, setting
to the south-east both during flood and ebb. The
mouth of the Po is perhaps the most remarkable of any
on the surface of this globe, and exhibits appearances
extremely singular. Its discharge is into a sequestered
corner of the Adriatic. Though there be a more re¬
markable tide in this gulf than in any part of the Medi¬
terranean, it is still but trifling, and it either sets direct¬
ly in upon the mouth of the river or retires straight
away from it. The river has many mouths, and they
shift prodigiously. There has been a general increase of
the land very remarkable. The marshes where Venice
now stands were, in the Augustan age, everywhere pe¬
netrable by the fishing boats, and in the 5th century
could only bear a few miserable huts; now they are
covered with crowds of stately buildings. -Ravenna, si¬
tuated on the southermost mouth of the Po, was, in the
Augustan age, at the extremity of a swamp, and the
road to it was along the top of an artificial mound,
made by Augustus atan immense expence. It was, how¬
ever, a fine city, containing extensive docks, arsenals,
and other massy buildings, being the great military port
of the empire, where Augustus laid up his great ships
of war. In the Gothic times it became almost the ca¬
pital of the Western empire, and was the seat of go¬
vernment and of luxury. It must, therefore, be suppo¬
sed to have every accommodation of opulence, and we
cannot doubt of its having paved streets, wharfs, &c. ;
so that its wealthy inhabitants were at least walking
dryfooted from house to house. But now it is an Ita¬
lian mile from the sea, and surrounded with vineyards
and cultivated fields, and is accessible in every direction.
All this must have been formed by depositions from the
Po, flowing through Lombardy loaded with the spoils
of the Alps, which were here arrested by the reeds and
bulrushes of the marsh. These things are in common
course; but when wells are dug, we come to the pave¬
ments of the ancient city, and these pavements are all
on one exact level, and they are eight feet below the sur¬
face of the sea at low water. This cannot be ascribed
to the subsiding of the ancient city. This would be
irregular, and greatest among the heavy buildings. The
tomb of Theodoric remains, and the pavement round it
is on a level with all the others. The lower story is al¬
ways full of water ; so is the lower story of the cathe¬
dral to the depth of three feet. The oruaments of both
these buildings leave no room to doubt that they were
formerly dry; and such a building as the cathedral
could not sink without crumbling into pieces.
It is by no means easy to account for all this. The
depositions of the Po and other rivers must raise the
ground; and yet the rivers must still flow over all. We
must conclude that the surface of the Adriatic is by no
t K means
Then
T4
K I V E lv.
Part I,
Tlieory. means level, and that it slopes like a river from the La-
goon of Venice to the eastward. In all probability it
even slopes considerably outwards from the shore. This
will not hinder the alternations of ebb and flow tide, as
will be shown in its proper place. The whole shores of
^ this gulf exhibit most uncommon appearances.
Rivers are The last general observation whicli we shall make in
convex a- this place is, that the surface of a river is not flat, con-
thwart the sidered athwart the stream, but convex : this is owing
theca'«atl<^ ^ts n10^011. Suppose a canal of stagnant water ; its
of jt> " surface would be a perfect level. But suppose it possi¬
ble by any means to give the middle waters a motion
i-n the direction of its lengfh, they must drag along
with them the waters immediately contiguous. These
will moveless swiftly, and will in like manner drag the
waters without them; and thus the water at the sides
being abstracted, the depth must be less, and the gene¬
ral surface must be convex across. The fact in a run¬
ning stream is similar to this ; the side waters are with¬
held by the sides, and every filament is moving more
slowly than the one next it towards the middle of the
river, but faster than the adjoining filament on the land
side. This alone must produce a convexity of surface.
But besides this, it is demonstrable that the pressure of
a running stream is diminished by its motion, and the
diminution is proportinal to the height which would
produce the velocity with which it is gliding past the
adjoining filament. This convexity mujt in all cases be
very small. Few rivers have the velocity nearly equal
to eight feet per second, and this requires a height of
one foot only. An author quoted by M. Buffon says,
that he has observed on the river Aveiron an elevation
of three feet in the middle during floods; but we suspect
some error in the observation.
95
Winding
course of
rivers, how
formed.
i
§ 4v Of the Windings of Rivers.
Rivers are seldom straight in their course. Formed
by the hand of nature, they are accommodated to every
change of circumstance. They wind around what they
cannot get over, and work their way to either side ac¬
cording as the resistance of the opposite bank makes a
straight course more difficult; and thisseemingly fortui¬
tous ramblingdistributes them more uniformly over the
surface of a country, and makes them every where more
at hand, to receive the numberless rills and rivulets
which collect the waters of our springs and the super¬
fluities of our showers, and to comfort our habitations
with the many advantages which cultivation and society
can derive from their presence. In their feeble begin¬
nings the smallest inequality of slope or consistency is
enough to turn them aside and make them ramble
through every field, giving drink tooqr herds and ferti.
lity to our soil. The more we follow nature into the
minutiae of her operations, the more must we admire the
inexhaustible fertilityof her resources, and the simplici¬
ty of themeans by which she produces the most import¬
ant and beneficial effects. By thus twisting the course
of our rivers into 10,000 shapes, she keeps them long
amidst our fields, and thus compensates for the declivity
of the surface, which would otherwisetumble themwith
great rapidity into the ocean, loaded with the best and
richest of our soil. Without this, the showers of heaven
would have little influence in supplying the waste of in¬
cessant evaporation. But as things are, the rains are
kept slowly trickling along the sloping sides of our hills
and steeps, winding round every clod, nay every plant. Theory,
which lengthens their course, diminishes their slope, »-yW
checks their speed, and thus prevents them from quick¬
ly brushing off from every part of the surface the light¬
est and best of the soil. The fattest of our holm lands
would be too steep, and the rivers would shoot along
through our finest meadows, hurrying everything away
with them, and would beunfit for the purposes of inland
conveyance, if the inequalities of soil did not make them
change this headlongcourseforthe morebeautifu' mean¬
ders which we observe in the course of the small rivers
winding through our meadows. Those rivers are in ge¬
neral the straightest in their course which are the most
rapid, and which roll along the greatest bodies of water:
such are the Rhone, the Po, the Danube. The smaller
rivers continue more devious in their progress, till they
approach the sea, and have gathered strength from all
their tributary streams. 90
Every thing aims at an equilibrium, and this directs What un¬
even the rambling of rivers. It is of importance to ,
understand the relation between the force of a river anil
the resistance which the soil opposes to those deviations 1
from a rectilineal course ; for it may frequently happen,
that the general procedure of nature may be inconsistent
with our local purposes. Man was set down on this
globe, and the task of cultivating it was given him
by nature, and his chief enjoyment seems to be to
struggle with the elements. He must not find things
to his mind, but he must mould them to his own fancy.
Yet even this seeming anomaly is one of nature’s most
beneficent laws ; and his exertions must still be made
in conformity with the general train of the operations
of mechanical nature: and when we have any work
to undertake relative to the course of rivers, we must
be careful not to thwart their general rules, otherwise
we shall be sooner or later punished for their infrac¬
tion. Things will be brought back to their former
state, if our operations are inconsistent with that equi¬
librium which is constantly aimed at, or some new state
of things which is equivalent will be soon induced.
If a well regulated river has been improperly deepen¬
ed in some place, to answer some particular purpose
of our own, or if its breadth has been improperly aug¬
mented, we shall soon see a deposition of mud or sand
choke up our fancied improvements; because, as we
have enlarged the section without increasing the slope
or the supply, the velocity must diminish, and floating
matters must be deposited.
It is true, we frequently see permanent channels
where the forms are extremely different from that
which the waters would dig for themselves in an uni¬
form soil, and which approaches a good deal to the
trapezium described formerly. Wesee agreater breadth
frequently compensate for a want of depth; but all such
deviations are a sort of constraint, or rather are indica¬
tions of inequality of soil. Such irregular forms are
the works of nature ; and if they are permanent, the
equilibrium is obtained. Commonly the bottom is
harder than the sides, consisting of the coarsest of the
sand and of gravel; and therefore the necessary section
can be obtained only by increasing the width We
are accustomed to attend chiefly to the appearances
which prognosticate mischief, and we interpret the ap¬
pearances of a permanent bed in the same way, and
frequently form very false judgments. When we see
one
?art I.
RIVE R.
75
Theory.
97
necessity
f attend,
ig to na-
tre in re-
ulating
le course
f rivers.
ig. IG.
88
Conditions'
lecessary
or a ptr-
nanentre¬
gimen.
one bank low anti flat, and the other high and ab¬
rupt, we suppose that the waters are parsing along
the first in peace, and with a gentle stream, but that
they are rapid on the other side, and are tearing away
the"bank ; hut it is just the contrary. The bed be¬
ing permanent, things are in equilibrio, and each bank
is of a form just competent to that equilibrium. If
the soil on both sides be uniform, the stream is most
rapid on that side where the bank is low and flat,
for in no other form would it withstand the action of
the stream; and it has been worn away till its flatness
compensates for the greater force of the stream. The
stream on the other side must be more gentle, otherwise
the bank could not remain abrupt. In short, in a state
of permanency, the velocity of the stream and form of
the bank are just suited to each other. It is quite
otherwise before the river has acquired its proper regi¬
men.
A careful consideration therefore of the general fea¬
tures of rivers which havesettled their regimen, is of use
for informing us concerning their internal motions, and
directing us to the most effectual methods of regulating
their course.
We have already said that perpendicular brims are
inconsistent with stability. A semicircular section is
the form which would produce the quickest train of a
river whose expence and slope are given ; but the banks
at B and D (fig. .16.) would crumble in, and lie at the
bottom, where their horizontal surface would secure them
from farther change. The bed will acquire the form
G c F, of equal section, but greater width, and with
brims less shelving. The proportion of the velocities
at A and c may be the same with that of the velocities
at A and C ; but the velocity at G and F wall be less
than it was formerly at B, C, or D ; and the velocity
in any intermediate point E, being -somewhat between
those at F and c, must be less than it was in any inter¬
mediate point of the semicircular bed. The velocities
will therefore decrease along the border from c towards
G and F, and the steepness of the border will augment
at the same time, till, in every point of the new border
G c F, these two circumstances wrill be so adjusted that
the necessary equilibrium is established.
The same thing must happen in our trapezium. The
slope of the brims may be exact, and w ill be retained;
it will, however, be too great any where below, where
the velocity is greater, and the sides will he worn away
till the banks are undermined and crumble down, and
the river will maintain its section by increasing its width.
In short, no border made up of straight lines is con¬
sistent with that gradation of velocity which will take
place whenever we depart from a semicircular form.
And we accordingly see, that in all natural channels the
section has acurvilineal border, with the slope increasing
gradually from the bottom to the brim.
These observations will enable us to understand how
na ure operates when the inequality of surface or of te¬
nacity obliges the current to change its direction, and
the river forms an elbow.
Supposing always that the discharge continues the
same, and that the mean velocity is either preserved or
restored, the following conditions are necessary for a
permanent regimen.
1. The depth of water must be greater in the elbow
than anywhere else.
2. The main stream, after having struck the concave Theory,
bank, must be reflected in an equal angle, and must then
be in the direction of the next reach of the river.
3. The angle of incidence must be proportioned to
the tenacity of the soil.
4. There must be in the elbow an increase of slope,
or of head of water, capable of overcoming the resist¬
ance occasioned by the elbow.
The reasonableness, at least, of these conditions will
appear from the following considerations. 99
1. It is certain that force is expended in producing Reasona-
this change of direction in a channel which by supposi- 1).!cness
tion diminishes the current. The diminution arising from
any cause which can be compared with friction must be
greater when the stream is directed against one of the
banks. It may be very difficult to state the proportion,
and it would occupy too much of our time to attempt it;
but it is sufficient that wre be convinced that the retarda¬
tion is greater in this case. We see no cause to increase
the mean velocity in the elbow, and we must therefore
conclude that it is diminished. But we are supposing
that the discharge continues the same; the section must
therefore augment, or the channel increase its transverse
dimensions. The only question is. In what manner it
does this, and what change of form does it affect, and
what form is competent to the final equilibrium and the
consequent permanency of the bed ? Here there is much
room for conjecture. Mr Buat reasons as follows-- If
we suppose that the points B and C (fig. 17-) continue Fig. 17.
on a level, and that the points H and I at the beginning
of the next reach are also on a level, it is an inevitable
consequence that the slope along CM I must be greater
than along BEH, because the depression of H below B
is equal to that of I below C, and BEH is longer than
CMI. Therefore the velocity along the convex bank
CMI must be greater than along BEH. There may
even be a stagnation and an eddy in the contrary direc¬
tion along the concave bank. Therefore, if the form of
the section were the same as up the stream, the sides
could not stand on the convex bank. When therefore
the sectionhas attained a permanent form,and the banks
are again in equilibrio with the action of the current, the
convex bank must be much flatter than the concave. If
the -water is really still on the concave bank, that bank
will be absolutelyperpendicular; nay, may overhang.—
Accordingly,thisstate of things is matter of daily obser¬
vation, and justifies our reasoning, and entitles us tosay,
that this is the nature of the internal motion of the fila¬
ments which we cannot distinctly observe. The water
moves most rapidly along the convex bank, and the
thread of the stream is nearest to this side. Reasoning
in this wray the section, which we may suppose to have
been originally of the form M 6 a E, (fig. 18.) assumes Fig. 18.
the shape MBAE.
2. Without presuming to know the mechanism of the
internal motionsof fluids, we know that superficial waves
arereflectedpreciseIyasiftheywereelasticbodies,making
the angles of incidence and reflection equal. In as far
therefore as the superficial waveisconcerned intheopera-
tion,MrBuat’s second position is just. The permanency
of the next reach requires that its axis shall be in the
direction of the line EP which makes the angle GEP
-FEN. If the next reach has the direction EQ, MR,
the wave reflected in the line ES will work on the bank
at S, and will be reflected in the line ST, and work
K 2 again
i
76
Theory.
100
Jtemarks
on these
conditions,
and the
reasons of
them.
It I V
again on tlis opposite bank at X. v\ e know that the
effect of the superficial motion is great, and that it is
the principal agent in destroying the banks of canals.
So far therefore Mr Boat is right. We cannot say
v/ith any precision or confidence how the actions of the
under filaments are modified ; but we know no reason
for not extending to the under filaments what appears so
probable with respect to the surface water.
3. The third position is no less evident. We do not
know the mode of action of the water on the bank ; but
our general notions on this subject, confirmed by common
experience, tell us that the more obliquely a stream of
water beats on any bank, the less it tends to undermine
it or wash it away. A stiff and cohesive soil therefore
will suffer no more from being almost perpendicularly
buffeted by a stream than a friable sand would suffer
from water gliding along its face. Mr, Buat thinks,
from experience, that a clay bank is not sensibly affect¬
ed till the angle FEB is about 36 degrees.
4. Since there are causes of retardation, and we still
suppose that the discharge is kept up, and that the mean
velocity, which had been diminished by the enlargement
of the section,is again restored, we must grant that there
is provided, in the mechanism of these motions, an acce¬
lerating force adequate to this effect. There can be no
accelerating force in an open stream but the superficial
slope. In the present case it is undoubtedly so; because
by the deepening of the bottom where there is an elbow
inthe stream, we have of necessity a counter slope. Now,
all this head of water, which must produce the augmen¬
tation of velocity in that part of the stream which ran¬
ges round the convex bank, will arise from the check
which the waters gets from the concave bank. This oc¬
casions a gorge or swell up the stream, enlarges a little
the section at BVC ; and this, by the principle of uni¬
form motion, will augment all the velocities, deepen the
channel, and put every thing again into its train as soon
as the water gets into the next reach. The water at the
bottom of this bason has very little motion, but it de¬
fends the bottom by this very circumstance.
Such are the notions which Mr de Buat entertains of
this part of the mechanism of running waters. We
cannot say that they are very satisfactory, and they are
very opposite to the opinions commonly entertained on
the subject. Most persons think that the motion is most
rapid and turbulent on the side of the concave bank,
and that it is owing to this that the bank is worn away
till it become perpendicular, and that the opposite bank
is flat, because it has not been gnawed away in this
manner. With respect to this general view of the mat¬
ter, these persons may be in the right; and when a
stream is turned into a crooked and yielding channel for
the first time, this is its manner of action. But Mr
Buat’s aim is to investigate the circumstances which ob¬
tain in the case of a regimen ; and in this view he is
undoubtedly right as to the facts, though his mode of
accounting for these facts may be erroneous. And as
this is the only useful view to be taken of the subject,
it ought chiefly to be attended to in all our attempts to
procure stability to the bed of a river, without the ex¬
pensive helps of masonry, &c. If we attempt to se¬
cure permanency by deepening on the inside of the el¬
bow, our bank will undoubtedly crumble down, dimi¬
nish the passage, and occasion a more violent action on
the hollow bank. The most effectual mean of security
is to enlarge the section; and if we do this on the in-
E E. Part I.
side bank, we must do it by widening the stream very Theory,
much, that we may give a very sloping bank. Our at- w-yW
tention is commonly drawn to it tv hen the hollow bank
is giving way, and with a view to stop the ravages of
the stream. Things are not now in a state of perma¬
nency, but nature is working in her own way to bring
it about. This may not suit our purpose, and we must
thwart her. The phenomena which we then observe
are frequently very unlike to those described in the pre¬
ceding paragraphs. We see a violent tumbling motion
in the stream towards the hollow bank. We see an
evident accumulation of water on that side, and the
point B is frequently higher than C. This regorging
of the water extends to some distance, and is of itself
a cause of greater velocity, and contributes, like a head
of stagnant water, to force the stream through the bend,
and to deepen the bottom. This is clearly the case
when the velocity is excessive, and the hollow bank
able to abide the shock. In this situation the water
thus heaped up escapes where it best can; and as the
water obstructed by an obstacle put in its way, escapes
by the sides,and there has its velocity increased, so here
the water gorged up against the hollow bank swells over
towards the opposite side, and passes round the convex
bank with an increased velocity. It depends much on
the adjustment between the velocity and consequent ac¬
cumulation, and the breadth of the stream and the angle
of the elbow, whether this augmentation of velocity shall
reach the convex bank ; and we sometimes see the mo¬
tion very languid in that place, and even depositions
of mud and sand are made there. The whole pheno¬
mena are too complicated to be accurately described in
general terms, even in the case of perfect regimen: for
this regimen is relative to the consistence of the chan¬
nel ; and when this is very great, the motions may be
most violent in every quarter. But the preceding ob¬
servations are of importance, because they relate to ordi¬
nary cases and to ordinary channels.
It is evident, from Mr Buat’s second position, that
the proper form of an elbow depends on the breadth of
the stream as well as on the radius of curvature, and
that every angle of elbow will require a certain propor¬
tion between the width of the river and the radius of
the sweep. Mr Buat gives rules and formulas for all
these purposes, and shows that in one sweep there may
be more than one reflection or rebound. It is needless
to enlarge on this matter of mere geometrical discussion.
It is with the view of enabling the engineer to trace
the windings of a river in such a manner that there shall
be no rebounds which shall direct the stream against
the sides, but preserve it always in the axis of every
reach. This is of consequence, even when the bends of
the river are to be secured by masonry or piling ; for
we have teen the necessity of increasing the section, and
the tendency which the waters have to deepen the chan¬
nel on that side where the rebound is made. This tends
to undermine our defences, and obliges us to give them
deeper and more solid foundations in such places. But
any person accustomed to the use of the scale and com¬
passes will form to himself rules of practice equally sure
and more expeditious than Mr de Buat’s formulae. jqj
We proceed, therefore, to what is more to our pur- Resistance
pose, the consideration of the resistance caused by an caused by
eibow, and the methods of providing a force capable an
of overcoming it. We have already taken nodee of 8!?d mo e
tne salutary consequences arising Iiom the rambl.ng wmiUgn,
course
] art I.
RIVER.
’heoij. course of rivers, inasmuch as it more effectually spreads
«'Y'W them over the face of a country. It is no less benefi¬
cial by diminishing their velocity. This it does both
by lengthening their course, which diminishes the de¬
clivity, and by the very resistance which they meet with
at every bend. We derive the chief advantages from
our rivers, when they no longer shoot their way from
precipice to precipice, loaded with mud and sand, but
peaceably roll along their clear waters, purified during
their gentler course, and offer themselves for all the
purposes of pasturage, agriculture, and navigation. The
more a river winds its way round the foot of the hills,
the more is the resistance of its bedmultiplied; the more
obstacles it meets with in its way from its source to the
sea, the more moderate is its velocity ; and instead of
tearing up the very bowels of the earth, and digging for
itself a deep trough, along which it sweeps rocks and
rooted-up trees, it flows with majestic pace even with
the surface of our cultivated grounds, which it embel¬
lishes and fertilizes.
We may with safety proceed on the supposition, that
the force necessary for overcoming the resistance arising
from a rebound is as the square of the velocity ; and it
is reasonable to suppose it proportional to the*square of
the sine of the angle of incidence, and this for the rea¬
sons given for adopting this measure of the general Re-
srsTASCE of Fluids. It cannot, however, claim a greater
confidence here than in that application; and it has been
shown in that article with what uncertainty and limita¬
tions it must be received. We leave it to oiir readers to
adopt either this or the simple ratio of the sines, ami
shall abide by the duplicate ratio with Mr Buat, because
it appears by his experiments that this law is very ex¬
actly observed in tubes in inclinations not exceeding
40°; whereas it is in these small angles that the applica¬
tion to the general resistance of fluids is most in fault.
But the correction is very simple, if this value shall be
found erroneous. There can be littledoubt that the force
necessary for overcoming the resistance will increase as
the number of rebounds.—Thereforewemavexpress the
V2 .T'/i
resistance, m general, by the formula r — ; where
ence of the heads of water was 5
of an inch. A
computation from these two experiments will give the
r is the resistance, V the mean velocity of the stream,
s the sine of the angle of incidence, * the number of
equal rebounds (that is, having equal angles of inci¬
dence), and m is a number to be determined by expe¬
riment. Mr de Buat made many experiments on the
resistance occasioned by the bendings of pipes, none
of which differed from the result of the above formu¬
la above one part in twelve; and he concludes, that
, . Try is
tne resistance to one bend may be estimated at —  
3000
The experiment was in this form : A pipe of one inch
diameter, and 10 feet long, was formed with 10 re¬
bounds of 36° each. A head of water was applied
to it, which gave the water a velocity of six feet per se¬
cond. Another pipe of the same diameter and length,
but without any bendings, was subjected to a pressure
of a head of water, which was increased till the velo¬
city of efflux was also six feet per second. The addi¬
tional head of water was 5T9g inches. Another of the
same diameter and length, having one bend of 24° 34,
and running 85 inches per second, was compared with
a .straight pipe having the same velocity, and the differ.
above result, or in English measure, r
32 oO
,-ery
nearly. It is probable that this measure of the resist¬
ance is too great; for the pipe was of uniform diameter
even in the bends : whereas in a river properly formed,
■w here the regimen is exact, the capacity of the section
of the bend is increased.
The application of this theory to inclined tubes and
to open streams is very obvious, and very legitimate and
safe. Let AB (fig. 19.) be the whole height of the
reservoir ABIK, and BC the horizontal length of a
pipe, containing any number of rebounds, equal or un¬
equal, but all regular, that is, constructed according to
the conditions formerly mentioned. 'Hie whole head of
water should be conceived as performing, or as divided
into portions which perform, three different offices.—
V2
One portion, AD=—impels the water into the en¬
try of the pipe with the velocity with which it really
moves in it; another portion EB is in equilibrio with
the resistances arising from the mere length of the pipe
expanded into a straight line; and the third portion DE
serves to overcome the resistance of the bends. If,
therefore, we draw the horizontal line BC, and, ta¬
king the pipe BC out of its place, put it in the posi¬
tion DH, with its mouth C in H, so that DH is equal
to BC, the water will have the same velocity in it that
it had before. X. B. For greater simplicity of argu¬
ment, we may suppose that when the pipe w s inserted
at B, its bends la}" all in a horizontal plane, and that
when it is inserted at D, the plane in which all its ben :s
lie slopes only in the direction DH, and is perpinditu-
lar to the plane of the figure. We repeat it, the wa¬
ter will have the same velocity in the pipes BC and
DH, and the resistances will be overcome. If we now
prolong the pipe DH towards L to any distance, re¬
peating continually the same bendings in a series of
lengths, each equal to DH, the motion will be conti¬
nued with the velocity corresponding to the pressure of
the column AD ; because the declivity of the pipe is
augmented in each length equal to DH, by a quantity
precisely sufficient for overcoming all the resistances in
that length ; and the true slope in these cases is BE -}-
ED, divided by the expanded length of the pipe BC
or DH.
The analogy which we were enabled to establish be¬
tween the uniform motion or the train of pipes and of
open streams, intitles us now to say, that when a river
has bendings, which are regularly repeated at equal in¬
tervals, its slope is compounded of the slope which is
necessary for overcoming the resistance of a straight
channel of its whole expanded length, agreeably to
the formula for uniform motion, and of the slope which
is necessary for overcoming the resistance arising from
its bending alone.
Thus, let there be a river which, in the expanded
course of 6000 fathoms, has 10 elbows, each of which
has 30° of rebound ; and let its mean velocity be 20
inches in a second. If we should learn its whole slope
in this 6000 fathoms, we must first find (by the formula
of uniform motion) the slope .v which will produce the
velocity of 20 inches in a straight river of this length,
section
7?
Theory.
—r—'
109
Theory ap.
fKed-to in¬
clined tubes
anu open
streams.
Fig. 19.
li I V E IE Parti,
section, arul mean depth. Suppose this to be we sh:-ill find to be G§ inches in the 6000 fathoms. Theory,
or 20 inches in this whole length. We must then find Therefore the river must have a slope of 26'd inches in
V2 Sin2\ 6000 thorns, or Tr§tt5; and this slope will produce
(by the formula -^5-J the slope necessary for over- the same velocity ^ 2o inches> or ^ ^
coming the resistance of 10 rebounds of 30° each. This in a straight running river of the same length.
Part II. PRACTICAL INFERENCES.
103
Approxi¬
mation by
trial and
correction
recom¬
mended to
practical
engineers.
HAVING thus established a theory of a most im¬
portant part of hydraulics, which may be confided in
as a just representation of nature’s procedure, we shall
apply it to the examination of the chief resu’ts of every
thing which art has contrived for limiting the opera¬
tions of nature, or modifyin<r them so as to suit our
particular views. Trusting to the detail which we
have given of the connecting principles, and the chief
circumstances which co-operate in producing the osten¬
sible effect; and supposing that such of our readers as
are interested in this subject will not think it too much
trouble to make the applications in the same detail; we
shall content ourselves with merely pointing out the
steps of the process, and showing their foundation in the
theory itself: and frequently, in place of the direct ana¬
lysis which the theory enables us to employ for the so¬
lution of the problems, we shall recommend a process of
approximation by trial and correction, sufficiently accu¬
rate, and more within the reach of practical engineers.
We are naturally led to consider in order the following
articles.
1. The effects of permanent additions of every kind
to the waters of a river, and the most effectual methods
of preventing or removing inundations.
2. The effects of weirs, bars, sluices, and keeps of
every kind, for raising the surface of a river; and the
similar effects of bridges, piers, and every thing which
contracts the section of the stream.
3. The nature of canals; how they differ from rivers
in respect of origin, discharge, and regimen, and what
conditions are necessary for their most perfect construc¬
tion.
4. Canals for draining land, and drafts or canals of
derivation from the main stream. The principles of
their construction, so that they may suit their intended
purposes, and the change which they produce on the
main stream, both above and below the point of deriva¬
tion.
lo4
Problems
and exam¬
ples on the
effects of
permanent
additions
to the wa¬
ters of a ri¬
ver.
Of the Effects of Permanent Additions to the Waters of
a River.
From what has been said already, it appears that to
every kind of soil or bed there corresponds a certain ve¬
locity of current, too small to hurt it by digging it up,
and too great to allow the deposition of the materials'
which it is carrying along. Supposing this known for
any particular situation, and the quantity of water v/hich
the channel must of necessity discharge, we may wish to
learn the smallest slope which must be given to this
stream, that the water* may run with the required ve¬
locity. This suggests,
Fuob. I. Given" the discharge D of a river, and V Us
velocity of regimen : required the smallest slope s, and
the dimensions of its bed ?
Since the slope must be the smallest possible, the bed
must have the form which will give the greatest mean
depth d, and should therefore he the trapezium formerly
described; and its area and perimeter are the same with
those of a rectangle whose breadth is twice its height
h. These circumstances give us the equation — = 2/r.
For the area of the section is twice the square of the
height, and the discharge is the product of this area
v
= the breadth b.
and the velocity. Therefore ^ry
h and
The formula of uniform motion gives Js—P+Js q-1.6
297 (Jd—0.1) T -
= t—  Instead of Jd—0.1, put its
V+0.3U/d—0.1) 1
equal , and every thing being known in the
second member of this equation, we easily get the value
of .y by a few trials atter the following manner : Suppose
that the second member is equal to any number, such as
9. First suppose that *,/s is — q, Thenthe hyperbolic
logarithm of 94-1.6 or of 10.6 is 2.36. Therefore
we have fs—-pi*0—9—2.36,=664 ; whereas it
should have been =9. Therefore say 6.64 : 9=9: 11.2
nearly. Now' suppose that fs is = 12.2. Then L
l2.2-j-1.6=Ll3.8, =2.625 nearly, and 12,2—2625
is 9.575, whereas it should be 9- Now we find that
changing the value of s from 9 to l2.2haschanged the
answer from 6.64 to 9.575, or a change of 3.2 in our as¬
sumption has made a change of2.935 in the answer, and
has left an error of 0.575. Therefoi’e say 2.935 : 0.575
= 3.2: 0.628. Then, taking 0.628 from 12.2 we
have (for our next assumption or value of sjs)l 1.572.
Now 11.572 4- 1:6. = 13.172, and L 13.172 is 2.58
nearly. Now try this last value 11.561—2.58 is 9.008,
sufficiently exact. This may serve as a specimen of the
trials by which we may avoid an intricate analysis.
Pnou. II. Given the discharge D, the slope s, and the
velocity V, of permanent regimen, to find the dimensions
of the bed.
Let x be the width, and y the depth of the channel,
and S the area of the section- This must be = -y s
which is therefore ~xy. The denominator s being
given, we may make *Js—L and the
formula
] irt IT,
E I V E 11.
•aetical
] 'crenccs.
formula of mean velocity will give V
—o.sU^T-
(Vrf—0.1)
207 (Vd—O.l)
VB
0.1), which we may express thus
/297 \ , • , • * V
V7B~~a3 J' yvhich glVeS 297 
V=
— 0.3
V rf—0.1) ; and finally,
297
V B
• -fO.l = Vd.
VB.
—0.3
Having thus obtained what Ave called the
depth, we may suppose the section rectangular.
gives d=
and d =
xy
x ~\~~y
xy
x + 2y
From Avhich tve obtain
x=v/(l/)'
-2S
+
2d
And having the breadth x and area S, we have y —
And then avc may change this for the trapezium often
mentioned.
These are the chief problems on this part of the
subject, and they enable us to adjust the slope and chan¬
nel of a river which receives any number of successive
permanent additions by the influx of other streams. This
last informs us of the rise which a neAv supply Avill pro¬
duce, because the additional supply Avili require addi¬
tional dimensions- of the channel; and as this is not sup¬
posed to increase in breadth, the addition will be in
depth. The question may be proposed in the fallowing
problem.
Prob. III. Given the slope s, the depth and the
base of a rectangular bed (or a trapezium), and conse¬
quently the discharge D, to find how much the sec¬
tion Avill rise, if the discharge be augmented by a given
quantity.
Let h be the height after the augmentation, and w the
width for the rectangular bed. We have in any uniform
current Vd —  • Raising this to a square,
 o 3
VB U,J
and putting for d and V their values
297
makin*
7b-0-3 = K’
and-II, and
w -f 2/t w h
w h
the equation becomes
m-\-L2k
Raising the second member to a
square, and reducing, we obtain a cubic equation, to be
solved in the usual manner.
But the solution Avould be extremely complicated.
We may obtain a very expeditious and exact approxi¬
mation from this consideration, that a small change in
one ot the dimensions of the section w'ill produce a much
greater change in the section and the discharge than in
the mean depth d. Having therefore augmented the
unknown dimension, Avhieh is here the height, make use
of this to form a new mean depth, and then the new
equation Vd __
iv
X%-’»
+0.1 Avill give us an-.
T 55?) fP
mean
This
Thus we have two equations, S=xy
w h
/297 f x'
WB~0,3)
‘tt’Cvk/—0.1),
(s-o
V-
D
and u: V=
and v2, : V'2=-y3 : Ty? •
A2 ' H2*
Therefore h: H—
iv H’   ~h' HJ
But by this remark jr : V2 — A: H.
d2 D2 , AD2 Hd2 , rtt to
tv : TTT) antl —To = —5~, and A’D' = H’d-, and d2:
A- H- /r A“
. A3D2
D2 — A3: H3 (a useful theorem) and HJ —,and
H=V
A3D2
= 12.48.
Ou
79
otlier value of A, Avhich Avill rarely exceed the truth by
t’o- 1 his serves (by the same process) for finding an¬
other, Avhich Avill commonly be sufficiently exact. We
shall illustrate this by an example. '
Let there be a river whose channel is a rectangle 150
feet Avide and six feet deep, and Avhich discharges 1500
cubic feet of Avater per second, having a velocity of 20
inches, and slope of
Practical
Inferences.
or about T72 of an inch in
100 fathoms. How much Avill it rise if it receives an
addition Avhich triples its discharge ? and what Avill be
its velocity ?
If the velocity remained the same, its depth would
be tripled; but Ave knoAv by the general formula that
its velocity Avill be greatly increased, and therefore its
depth Avill not be tripled. Suppose it to be doubled,
and to become 12 feet. This will give d = 10.34483,
or 124.138 inches; then the equation Vd 0.1 =
D ; D
or A-—-,-———r— r-,and
in which we have yB = 107.8, D = 4500; Vd—0.1
= 11.0417, will give A = 13.276; whereas it should
have been 12. This shoAvs that our calculated value
of d was too small. Let us therefore increase the depth
by O.p, or make it 12.9, and repeat the calculation.
This Avill give us */</—0.1 rr 11.3927, and A= 12.867,
instead of 13.276. Therefore? augmenting our data
0.9 changes our answer* O.409. If Ave suppose these
small changes to retain their proportions, we may con¬
clude that if 12 be augmented by the quantity x x 0.9,
the quantity 13.276 will diminish by the quantity
x x 0.409. Therefore that the estimated value of A may
agree Avith the one which results from the calculation,
Ave must have 12 +.r x 0-9 = 13.276—q X O.1O9. This
... . 1.276 .
will give x — — 0.9748, and x x 0.9—0.8773;
and A—12.8773. If we repeat the calculation with this
value of A, w e shall find no change.
This A*alue of A gives d= 131.8836 inches. If A\-e
noAV compute the neiv velocity by dividing the neiv
discharge 4500 by the ucav area 150x 12.8773, Ave
shall find it to be 27-95 inches, in place of 20, the for¬
mer velocity.
We might have made a pretty exact first assumption,
by recollecting what Avas formerly observed, that Avhen
the breadth is very great in proportion to the depth,
the mean depth differs insensibly from the real depth,
or rather folloAvs nearly the same proportions, and that
the velocities are proportional to the square roots of
the depths. Call the first discharge d, the height A,
and velocity v, and let D, H, and V, express these
, . . . d ,
things in their augmented state. We have and
d D _ - d2' D2
m
HIVE K.
Part II.
Practical
l nterences.
105
The in¬
verse of
the pro¬
blems show
the effects
©f enlar¬
ging the
section of
a river.
106
and direct
us in the
method of
embank¬
ments.
O;- we might have made the same assumption by the
remark also formerly made on this case/that the squares
of the discharges are nearly as the cubes of the height,
or 15002: 4500 = 63: 12.483.
And in making these first guesses, we shall do it more
exactly, by recollecting that a certain variation of the
mean depth d requires a greater variation of the height,
and the increment Avill be to the height nearly as half
the height to the width, as may easily be seen. There-
6.24 . ^
fore, if we add to 12.48 its ~ ^th part, or its 24th part,
viz. 0.52, wre have 13 for our first assumption, exceed¬
ing the truth only an inch and a half. We mention
these circumstances, that those who are disposed to ap¬
ply these doctrines to the solution of practical cases may
be at no loss when one occurs of which the regular so¬
lution requires an intricate analysis.
It is evident that the inverse of the foregoing pro¬
blems will show the effects of enlarging the section of
a river, that is, will show how much its surface will be
sunk by any proposed enlargement of its bed. It is
therefore needless to propose such problems in this place.
Common sense directs us to make these enlargements
in those parts of the river where their effect will be
greatest, that is, where it is shallowest when its breadth
greatly exceeds its depth, or where it is narrowest (if
its depth ex; eed the breadth, which is a very rare case),
or in general, where the slope is the smallest for a short
run.
The same general principles direct us in the method
of embankments, for the prevention of floods, by ena¬
bling us to ascertain the heights necessary to be given
to our banks. This will evidently depend, not only on
the additional quantity of water which experience tells
us a river brings down during its freshes, but also on
the distance at which we place the banks from the na¬
tural banks of the river. This is a point where mistaken
economy frequently defeats its own purpose. If we raise
our embankment at some distancefrom the natural banks
of the river, not only will a smaller height suffice, and
consequently a smaller base, which will make a .saving
in tire duplicate proportion of the height; but our works
will be so much the more durable nearly, if not exactly,
in the same proportion. For by thus enlarging the ad¬
ditional bed which we give to the swollen river, we di¬
minish its velocity almost in the same proportion that
we enlarge its channel, and thus diminish its power of
ruining our works. Except, therefore, in the case of a
river whose freshes are loaded with fine sand to destroy
the turf, it is always proper to place the embankment at
a considerable distance from the natural banks. Placing
them at half the breadth of the stream from its natural
banks, will nearly double its channel; and, except in
the case now mentioned, the space thus detached from
our fields will afford excellent pasture.
The limits of such a work as ours will not permit us
to enter into any detail on the method of embankment.
It would require a volume to give instructions as to the
manner of founding, raising, and securing tire dykes
which must be raised, and a thousand circumstances
which must be attended to. But a few general obser¬
vations may be made, which naturally occur while we
are considering the manner in which a river works in
settling or altering its channel.
It must be remarked, in the first place, that the river Practical
will rise higher when embanked than it does while it ,nterences-
was allowed to spread ; and it is by that means easy to
conclude to what height it will rise from the greatest
height to which it has been observed to rise in its floods.
When at liberty to expand over a wide valley; then it
could only rise till it overflowed with a thickness or
depth of water sufficient to produce a motion backwards
into the valley quick enough to take off the water as
fast as it was supplied; and we imagine that a foot or
two would suffice in most cases. The best way for a
prudent engineer will be to observe the utmost rise re¬
membered by the neighbours in some gorge, where the
river cannot spread out. Measure the increased section
in this place, and at the same time recollect, that the
water increases in a much greater proportion than the
section; because an increase of the hydraulic mean depth
produces an increase of velocity in the duplicate propor¬
tion of the depth nearly. But as this augmentation of
velocity wfill obtain also between the embankments, it
will be sufficiently exact to suppose that the section must
be increased here nearly in the same proportion as at the
gorge already mentioned. Neglecting this method of
information, and regulating the height of our embank¬
ment by the greatest swell that has been observed in the
plain, will assuredly make them too low, and render
them totally useless.
A line of embankment should always be carried on
by a strict concert of the proprietors of both banks
through it" whole extent. A greedy proprietor, by ad¬
vancing his own embankment beyond that of his neigh¬
bours, not only exposes himself to risk by the working
of the waters on the angles which this will produce, but
exposes his neighbours also to danger, by narrowing the
section, and thereby raising the surface and increasing
the velocity, and by turning the stream athwart, and
causing it to shoot against the opposite bank. The
whole should be as much as possible in a line; and the
general effect should be to make the course of the stream
straighter than it was before. All bends should be
made more gentle, by keeping the embankment further
from the river in all convex lines of the natural bank,
and bringing it nearer where the bank is concave. This
will greatly diminish the action of the waters on the
bankment, and insure their duration. The same maxim
must be followed in fencing any brook which discharges
itself into the river. The bends given at its mouth to
the two lines of embankment should be made less acute
than those of the natural brook, although, by this means,
two points of land are left out. And the opportunity
should be embraced of making the direction of this
transverse brook more sloping than before, that is, less
athwart the direction of the river.
It is of great consequence to cover the outside of the
dyke with very compact turf closely united. If it ad¬
mit water, the interior part of the wall, which is always
more porous, becomes drenched in water, and this wa¬
ter acts with its statical pressure, tending to burst the
bank on the land-side, and will quickly shift it from its
seat. The utmost care should therefore be taken to
make it and keep it perfectly tight. It should be a
continued fine turf, and every bare spot should be care¬
fully covered with fresh sod; and rat holes roust be
carefully closed up.
Qf
5art II.
E I V E E.
81
Practical
nferences. Qf Straiglding or Changing the Course of Rivers.
107 We have seen, that every bending of a river requires
'f dred^r an additional slope in order to continue its train, or en-
i^bend of able it to convey the same quantity of water without
river, and swelling in its bed. Therefore the effect of taking
ie conse- away any of these bends must be to sink the waters of
uenees. ^ rjver< jt js proper, therefore, to have it in our
power to estimate these-effects. It may be desirable to
gain property, by taking away the sweeps of a very
winding stream. But this may be prejudicial, by de¬
stroying the navigation on such a river. It may -also
hurt the proprietors below, by increasing the velocity
of the stream, wrhich will expose them to the risk of its
overflowing, or of its destroying its bed, and taking a
new course. Or this increase of velocity may be incon¬
sistent wkh the regimen of tire new channel, or at least
require larger dimensions than we should have given it
if ignorant of this effect.
Our principles of uniform motion enable us to answer
every question of this kind which can occur; and M. de
Buat proposes several problems to this effect. The re¬
gular solutions of them are complicated and difficult;
and we do not think them necessary in this place, be¬
cause they may all be solved in a manner not indeed so
elegant, because indirect, but abundantly accurate, and
easy to any person familiar with those which we have al¬
ready considered.
We can take the exact level across all these sweeps,
and thus obtain the whole slope- We can measure with
accuracy the velocity in some part of the channel which
is most remote from any bend, and where the channel
itself has the greatest regularity of form. This will give
us the expence or discharge of the river, and the mean
depth connected with it. We can then examine whe¬
ther this velocity is precisely such as is compatible with
stability in the straight course. If it is, it is evident
that if wre cut off the bends, the greater slope which this
will produce will communicate to the waters a velocity
incompatible with the regimen suited to this soil, unless
we enlarge the width of the stream, that is, unless we
make the new channel more capacious than the old one.
We must now calculate the dimensions of the channel
which, with this increased slope, will conduct the wa¬
ters with the velocity that is necessary. All this may
be done by the foregoing problems; and we may easiest
accomplish this by steps. First, suppose the bed the
same with the old one, and calculate the velocity for
the increased slope by the general formula. Then
change one of the dimensions of the channel, so as to
produce the velocity we want, which is a very simple
process. And in doing this, the object to be kept
chiefly in view is not to make the new velocity such
as will be incompatible with the stability of the new
bed.
Having accomplished this first purpose, we learn (in
the very solution)how much shallower this channel with
its greater slope will be than the former, while it dis¬
charges all the waters. This diminution of depth must
increase the slope and the velocity, and must diminish
the depth of the river, above the place where the altera¬
tion is to be made. How far it produces these effects
may be calculated by the general formula. We then
see whether the navigation will be hurt, either in the
Yol. XVill. Part I.
old river up the stream, or in the new channel. It is Practical
plain that all these points cannot be reconciled. We 1 nferen ces.
may make the new channel such, that it shall leave a ’Y'w'
velocity compatible with stability, and that it shall not
diminish the depth of the river up the stream. But
having a greater slope, it must have a smaller mean
depth, and also a smaller real depth, unless we make it
of a very inconvenient form.
The same tilings viewed in a different light, will show'
us what depression of waters may be produced by recti¬
fying the course of a river in order to prevent its over¬
flowing. And the process which we would recommend
is the same with the foregoing. We apprehend it to be
quite needless to measure the angles of rebound, in order
to compute the slope which is employed for sending the
river through the bend, with a view to supersede this
by straighting the river. It is infinitely easier and more
exact to measure the levels themselves, and then we
know the effect of removing them.
Nor need we follow M. de Buat in solving problems
for diminishing the slope and velocity, and deepening
the channel of a river by bending its course. The ex¬
pence of this would be in every case enormous; and the
practices which we are just going to enter upon afford
infinitely easier methods of accomplishing all the pur¬
poses which are to be gained by these changes.
Of Bars, Weirs, and Jetleys, for raising the Surface of
Rivers.
_Tr 108
VVe propose, under the article Water-Works, to Problems,
consider in sufficient practical detail all that relates to examples,
the construction and mechanism of these and other erec- and conse-
tions in water ; and we confine ourselves, in this place, raisingUie^
to the mere effect which they w'ill produce on the cur- surface of
rent of the river. rivers.
We gave the name of weir or bar to a dam erected
across a river for the purpose of raising its waters, w he-
ther in order to take off a draft for a mill or to deepen
the channel. Before we can tell the effect which tltey
will produce, we must have a general rule for ascertain¬
ing the relation between the height of the water above
the lip of the weir or bar, and the quantity of water
which will flow over.
First, then, with respect to a weir, represented in
fig. 20. and fig. 21. The latter figure more resembles Fig* 20, 21
their usual form, consisting of a dam of solid masonry,
or built of timber, properly fortified with shears and
banks. On the top is set up a strong plank FR, called
the wasteboard or waster, over which the water flows.
This is brought to an accurate level, of the proper height.
Such voiders are frequently made in the side of a mill-
course, for letting the superfluous water run off. This
is properly the waster, voider : it is also called an
offset. The same observations will explain all these
different pieces of practice. The following questions
occur in course. «
Prob. I. Given the length of an offset or waste-
board, made in the face of a reservoir of stagnant w a¬
ter and the depth of its lip under the horizontal surface
of the water, to determine the discharge, or the quan¬
tity of water which will run over in a second?
Let AB be the horizontal surface of the still water,
and F the lip of the wasteboard Call the depth BF
under the surface h, and the length of the w asteboard /.
t L N. B.
$2 HIV
Prafetical N. B. The* water is supposed to flow over into another
Inferences. ]}asoil or channelj so much lower than the surface
HL of the water is lower, or at least not higher,
than F.
If the water could be supported at the height BF,
BF might be considered as an orifice in the side of a
vessel. In which case, the discharge would be the same
as if the whole water were flowing with the velocity
acquired from the height ^ BF, or | h. And if we
suppose that there is no contraction at the orifice, the
mean velocity would be s/% g $ k, — */772§/f, in En¬
glish inches, per second. The area of this orifice is l k.
Therefore the discharge would be Ih all be¬
ing measured in inches. This is the usual theory ; but
it is not an exact representation of the manner in which
the efflux really happens. The water cannot remain at
the height BF; but in drawing towards the wasteboard
from all sides, it forms a convex surface AIH, so that
the point I, where the vertical drawn from the edge of
the wasteboard meets the curve, is considerably lower
than B. But as all the mass above F is supposed per¬
fectly fluid, the pressure of the incumbent water is pro¬
pagated, in the opinion of M. de Buat, to the filament
passing over at F without any diminution. The same
may be said of any filament between F and I. Each
tends, therefore, to move in the same manner if it were
really impelled through an orifice in its place. There¬
fore the motions through every part of the line or plane
IF are the same as if the water were escaping through
an orifice IF, made by a sluice let down on the water,
and keeping up the water of the reservoir to the level
AB. It is beyond a doubt (says he) that the height
IF must depend on the ■whole height BF, and that there
must be a certain determined proportion between them.
He does not attempt to determine this proportion theo¬
retically, but says, that his experiments ascertain it
with great precision to be the proportion of one to two,
©r that IF is always one-half of BF. He says, how¬
ever, that this determination was not by an immediate
and direct measurement; he concluded it from the com¬
parison of the quantities of water discharged under dif¬
ferent heights of the water in the reservoir.
We cannot help thinking that this reasoning is very
defective in several particulars. It cannot be inferred,
from the laws of hydrostatical pressure, that the filament
at I is pressed forward with all the weight of the column
The particle I is really at the surface; and consi¬
dering it as making part of the surface of a running
stream, it is subjected to hardly any pressure, any more
than the particles on the surface of a cup of w'ater held
in the hand, while it is carried round the axis of the
earth and round the sun. Reasoning according to his
own principles, and availing himself of his own disco¬
very, he should say, that the particle at I has an acce¬
lerating force depending on its slope only; and then he
should have endeavoured to ascertain this slope. The
motion of the particle at I has no immediate connection
with the pressure of the column BI; and if it had, the
motion would be extremely different from what it is :
for this pressure alone would give it the velocity which
M. Buat assigns it. Now it is already passing through
the point I with the velocity which it has acquired in
descending along the curve AI; and this is the real
£tate of the case. The particles are passing through
E E. Part II
with a velocity already acquired by a sloping current; Practical
and they are accelerated by the hydrostatical pressure of Infeiences
the water above them. The internal mechanism of
these motions is infinitely more complex than M. Buat
here supposes ; and on this supposition, he very nearly
abandons the theory which he has so ingeniously esta¬
blished, and adopts the theory of Guglielmini which he
had exploded. At the same time, we think that he is
not much mistaken when he asserts, that the motions
are nearly the same as if a sluice had been let down from
the surface to I. For the filament which passes at I
has been gliding down a curved surface; and has not
been exposed to any friction. It is perhaps- the very
case of hydraulics where the obstructions are the smal¬
lest ; and we should therefore expect that its motion
will be least retarded.
We have therefore no hesitation in saying, that the
filament at I is in the very state of motion which the
theory would assign to it if it "were passing under a
sluice, as M. Buat supposes. And with respect to the
inferior filaments, without attempting the very difficult
task of investigating their motions, we shall just say,
that we do not see any reason for supposing that they
will move slower than our author supposes. Therefore,
though we reject his theory, we admit his experimental
proposition in general; that is, we admit that the whole
water which passes through the plane IF moves with
the velocity (though not in the same direction) with
which it would have run through a sluice of the same
depth ; and we may proceed with his determination of
the quantity of water discharged.
If we make BC the axis of a parabola BEGH, the
velocities of the filaments passing at I and F will be re¬
presented by the ordinates IE and EG, and the dis¬
charge by the area IEGF. This allows a very neat
solution of the problem. Let the quantity discharged
per second be D, and let the whole height BF be h.
Let 2 G be the quantity by which we must divide the
square of the mean velocity, in order to have the pro¬
ducing height. This will be less than 2 g, the accele¬
ration of gravity, on account of the convergency at the
sides and the tendency to convergence at the lip F.
We formerly gave for its measure 726 inches, instead of
772, and said that the inches discharged per second
from an orifice of one inch were 26.49, instead of
27.78. Let x be the distance of any filament from the
horizontal line AB. An element of the orifice, there¬
fore, (for we may give it this name) is lx. The velo¬
city of this element is ^sGx, or sl%Gx *Jx. The
discharge from it is l V 2 G x* x> an6 the fluent of
this, or D ^l j ciGx^ x, which is fZ 2Gx^ -}-C.
To determine the constant quantity C, observe that M.
de Buat found by experiment that B was in all cases
5 BE. Therefore D must be nothing when x — ^ h;
consequently C = —f 2G and the complet¬
ed fluent wiU be D == | / 2G^r § —
Now make x=h, and we have
d=§* 1 vic(i-.(i)5)Aj.
But
Part 11.
Practical
.nferences-
K I V E B.
0.64640, and § of this is 0.431 : The formula will be D— | l hJ cTq
But 1 - (|) | =
Then fore, fin-tlly,
D=0.43l (V2GAI+0-
If we now' put 26.4.9 or 26£ for N/ 2G, or the velo¬
city with which a head of water of one inch will impel
the water over a weir, and multiply this by 0.431, w e
get the following quantity 11.4172, or, inn umbers of
ea-y recollection, 11 for the cubic inches of water per
second, V'hich runs over every inch of a wasteboard
when the edge of it is one inch below' the surface of the
reservoir; and this must be multiplied by h%, or by the
square root of the cube of the head of w ater. Thus let
the edge of the wasteboard be four inches below the sur¬
face of the water. The cube of this is 6t, of which
the square root is eight. There a wasteboard of this
depth under the surface, and three feet long, will dis¬
charge every second S-f-Sh+l 1| cubic inches of wa¬
ter, or t80 cubic feet, English measure.
The following comparisons will show how much this
theory may be depended on. Col. 1. showsthe depth of
the edge of the board under the surface; 2. shows the
discharge by theory; and, 3. the discharge actually
observed. The length of the board was 18^ inches.'
N. B. The numbers in M. Buat’s experiments are here
-reduced to English measure.
D.
1-778
a 199
4.665
6.753
D. Thcor
506
1222
2158
3750
D. Exp.
524
1218
2155
3771
E.
28.98
69-83
123.03
214.29
The last column is thecubic inches dischargedin a se-
eond by each inch of the w'asteboard The correspond¬
ence is undoubtedly very great. The greatest error is
in the first, which may be attributed to a much smaller
lateral contraction under so small a head of w'ater.
But it must be remarked, that the calculation pro¬
ceeds on twro suppositions. The height FI is supposed
i of BI ; and 2G is supposed 726. It is evident, that
by increasing the one and diminishing the other, nearly
the same answers may be produced, unless much greater
variations of h be examined. Both of these quantities
are matters of considerable uncertainty, particularly the
first; and it must be farther remarked, that this was not
measured, but deduced from the uniformity of the expe¬
riments. We presume that M. Buat tried various va¬
lues of G, till he found one which gave the ratios of
discharge which he observed. We beg leave to observe
that in a set ot numerous experiments which we had ac¬
cess to examine, BI was uniformly much less than i ;
it was very nearly f : and the quantity discharged was
greater than what would result from M. Buat’s calcu¬
lation. It was farther observed that IF depended very
much on the form of the wasteboard. When it was a
very thin board ot considerable depth, IF was very
comider bly greater than if the board was thick or
narrow, and set on the top of a broad dam-head, as in
fig. 21.
It may be proper to give the formula a form which
c-d)5)*1
S3
Depth.
1
-St
3
4
5
6
7
l
10
11
12
IS
14
15
16
17
18
Discharge.
0.403
1.140
2.095
3.225
4.507
5 925
7-466
9.122
10.884
12.748
14.707
16.758
18.895
21.117
23.419
25.800
28 258
30.786
Practical
Inferences.
Meantime, this theory of M. de Buat is of great
value to the practical engineer, who atpresent must con¬
tent himself with a very vague conjecture, or take the
calculation ot the erroneous theory of Guglielmini. By
that theory, the lx>ard of three feet at the depth of
four inches, should discharge nearly 3^ cubic feet per
second, which is almost double of what it really deli¬
vers.
We presume, therefore, that the following table will
be acceptable to practical engineers, who are not fami¬
liar with such computations. It contains, in the first
column, the depth in English inches from the surface
of the stagnant water of a reservoir to the edge of the
wasteboard. The second column is the cubic feet of
water discharged in a minute by every inch of the
wasteboard.
When the depth does not exceed four inches, it will
not be exact enough to take proportional parts for
the fractions of an inch. The following method is
exact.
If they be odd quarters of an inch, look in the table
for as many inches as the depth contains quarters, and
take the eighth part of the answer. Thu?, for 3f inches,
take the eighth part of 23.419, which corresponds to
15 inches. This is 2.927.
If the wasteboard is not on the face of a dam, but
in a running stream, we must augment the discharge by
multiplying the section by the velocity of the stream.
But this correction can seldom occur in practice ; be¬
cause, in this case, the discharge is previously known ;
and it is k that we want; which is the object of the
next problem.
We only beg leave to add, that the experiments
which we mention as having been already made in this
country, give a result somewhat greater than this table,
viz. about Therefore, haring obtained the answer
by this table, add to its 16th part, and we apprehend
coi respoi a to any ratio which experience may dis- ^ wi‘l he extremely near the truth,
eover between BF and IF. Thus, let Elbe— J3F When> on the other hand, wc know the discharge.
it
over a wasteboard, we can tell the depth of its edge un-
L2 * der
84
Practical
Inferences.
HIV
der the surface of the stagnant water of the reservoir,
because we have very
We are now in a condition to solve the problem re¬
specting a weir across a river.
Pros. II. The discharge and section of a river being
given, it is required to determine how much the waters
will be raised by a weir of the whole breadth of the
river, discharging the water with a clear fall, that is,
the surface of the water in the lower channel being be¬
low the edge of the weir ?
In this case we have 2 G=746 nearly, because there
will be no contraction at the sides when the weir is
the whole breadth of the river. But further,, the w'a-
ter is not now stagnant, but moving with the velocity
—, S being the section of the river.
Therefore let a be the height of the weir from the
bottom of the river, and h the height of the water
above the edge of the weir. We have the velocity
. , . D
with which the water approaches the weir =
l being the length of the weir or breadth of the river’
Therefore the height producing the primary mean ve¬
locity
(7,
D
V2g (a -f-^)
little ago will give A= ^
y
The equation given a
D
>
have
  wdien the
0.431 l 2G
W'ater above the weir is stagnant. Therefore, when it
is already moving with the velocity we shall
7 _ / 5 jt
V 0.431 V2G~/ (a+h) '
would be very troublesome to solve this equation regu¬
larly, because the unknown quantity h is found in the
second term of the answer. But we know that the
height producing the velocity above the weir is very
small in comparison of h and of a, and, if only esti¬
mated roughly, will make a very insensible change in
the value of h ; and, by repeating the operation, we can
correct this value, and obtain h to any degree of exact¬
ness.
To illustrate this by an example. Suppose a river,
the section of whose stream is 150 feet, and that it dis¬
charges 174 cubic feet of water in a second ; how much
will the waters of this river be raised by a weir of the
same width, and 3 feet high ?
Suppose the width to be 50 feet. This will give 3
feet for the depth; and we see that the water will have
a clear fall, because the lower stream will be the same
as before.
The section being 150 feet, and the discharge 174,
the mean velocity is I = 1.16 feet, =14 inches
nearly*, which requires the height ot | of an inch very
nearly. This may be taken for the second term of the
value of /i. Therefore /i~~. ( 7=— jJ—|
V 0.431 »/c2GlS
jj~%G is, in the present case, =27*313 ; l is 600, and
D is 174X17^8,= 300672. Therefore A=12.192
—0.25,=11.942.- Now correct this value of //, by
correcting the second term, which is \ of an inch, iru
i. Now
4
E E.
stead of ( —7=
(
D
>
or 0.141.
Part II
This will give
*/ Vg l (a-\-fi)
us 77=12.192—0.141, = 12.05!, differing from the
first value about ^ of an inch. It is needless to carry
the approximation fa ther. Thus we see that a weir
which dams up the who’e of the former current of three
feet deep, will only raise the waters of this river one
foot.
The same rule serves for shewing how high we ought
to raise this weir in order to produce any given rise of
the waters, whether for the purposes of navigation, or
for taking off a draft to drive mills, or for any other
service; for if the breadth of the river remain the
same, the water will still flow over the weir m ith nearly
the same depth. A very small and hardly perceptible
difference will indeed arise from the diminution of slope
occasioned by this rise, and a consequent diminution of
the velocity with which the river approaches the weir.
But this difference must always be a small fraction of
the second term of our answer ; which term is itself very
small: and even this will be compensated, in some de¬
gree, by the freer fall which the water will have over
the weir.
If the intended weir is not to have the whole breadth
of the river (which is seldom necessary even for the
purposes of navigation), the waters will be raised higher
by the same height of the wastebeard. The calcula¬
tion is precisely the same for this case. Only in the
second term, which gives the head of water correspond¬
ing to the velocity of the river, l must still be taken for
the whole breadth of the river, while in the first term
l is the length of the wasteboard. Also *] zG must be
a little less, on account of the contractions at the ends
of the weir, unless these be avoided by giving the ma¬
sonry at the ends of the wasteboard a curved shape on
the upper side of the wasteboard. This should not be
done when the sole object of the weir is to raise the sur¬
face of the waters. Its effect is but trifling at any rate,
when the length of the wasteboard is considerable, in
proportion to the thickness of the sheet of water flowing
over it.
The following comparisons of this rule with experi¬
ment will give our readers some notion of its utility.
Discharge
of the Weir
per second.
Inches.
3888
2462
1112
259
Head pro¬
ducing the
velocity at
the Weir.
Inches.
7.302
5.385
3.171
1.201
Head pro¬
ducing the
Velocity
above it.
Calculated
Height ef
the River
above the
Wasteboard.
Inches.
0.625
0.350
0.116
0.0114
Inches.
6.677
5.035
3.055
1.189
Observed
Height.
Inches.
6.583
4.750
3.166
1.250
It was feund extremely difficult to measure the exact
height of the water in the upper stream above the waste-
board. The curvature AI extended several feet up the
stream. Indeed there must be something arbitrary in
this measurement, because the surface of the stream is
not horizontal. The deviation should he taken, not
from a horizontal plane, but from the inclined, surface of
the river,
It
’art IT.
It I V E E.
S;1
Pr?xtical It is plain that a river cannot be fitted for continued
nferenccs. navigation by weirs. These occasion interruptions;
rw but a few inches may sometimes be added to the waters
of a river by a bar, which may still allow a flat-bot¬
tomed lighter or a raft to pass over it. This is a very
frequent practice in Holland and Flanders; and a very
cheap and certain conveyance of goods is there obtained
by means of streams which we would think no better
than boundary ditches, and unfit for every purpose of
this kind. By means of a bar the water is kept up a
very few inches, and the stream has free course to the
sea. The shoot over the bar is prevented by means of
another bar placed a little way below it, lying fiat in
the bottom of the ditch, but which may be raised up
on hinges. The lighterman makes his boat fast to a
stake immediately above the bar, raises the lower bar,
brings over his boat, again makes it fast, and, having
laid down the other bar again, proceeds on his journey.
This contrivance answers the end of a lock at a very
trifling expence ; and though it does not admit of what
wre are accustomed to call' navigation, it gives a very
sure conveyance, which would otherwise be impossible.
When the waters can be raised by bars, so that they
may be drawn off for machinery or other purposes,
they are preferable to weirs, because they do not ob¬
struct floating with rafts, and are not destroyed by the
ice.
Prob. III. Given the height of a bar, the depth of
water both above and below it, and the width of the
river ; to determine the discharge.
This is by no means so easily solved as the discharge
over a weir, and we cannot do it with the same degree
of evidence. We imagine, however, that the following
observations will not be very far from a true account of
the matter.
g. 22. We may first suppose a reservoir LFBM (fig. 22.)
of stagnant water, and that it has a wasteboard of the
height CB. We may then determine, by the forego¬
ing problems, the discharge through the plane EC,
With respect to the discharge through the part C A, it
should be equal to this product of the part of the sec¬
tion by the velocity corresponding to the fall EC, which
is the difference of the heights of water above and be¬
low the bar; for, because the difference of E « and
C o is equal to EC, every particle a of water in the
plane CA is pressed in the direction of this stream with
the same force, viz. the weight of the column EC.
The sum of these discharges should be the whole dis¬
charge over the bar: but since the bar is set up across
a running river, its discharge must be the same with
that of the river. The water of the river, when it
comes to the place of the bar, has acquired some velo¬
city by its slope or other causes, and this corresponds to
some height FE. This velocity, multiplied by the sec¬
tion of the river, having the height EB, should give a
discharge equal to the discharge over the bar.
To avoid this complication of conditions, we may
first compute the discharge of the bar in the manner
now pointed out, without the consideration of the pre¬
vious velocity of the stream. This discharge will be a
little too small. If we divide it by the section FB, it
will give a primary velocity too small, but not far from
the truth. Therefore we shall get the height FE, by
means of which we shall be able to determine a velocity
intermediate between DG and CH, which would cor-'
respond to a weir, as also the velocity CH, which cor¬
responds to the part of the section CA, which is wholly
under water. Ihen we correct all these quantities by
repeating the operation with them instead of our first
assumptions.
Mr Buat found this computation extremely near the
truth, but in a'l cases a little greater than observation
exhibited.
We may now solve the problem in the most general
terms.
Prob. IV. G iven the breadth, depth, end the slope
o!" a river, if we confine its passage by a bar or weir of
a known height and width, to determine the rise of the
waters above the bar.
The slope and dimensions of the channel being g'ven,
our formula will give us the Velocity and the quantity
ot water discharged. Then, by the preceding problem,
find the height of water above the wasteboard. From
the sum of these two heights deduct the ordinary depth
of the river. The remainder is the rise of the waters.
For example :
Let there be a river whose ordinary depth is 3 feet,
and breadth 40, and whose slope is 1 4 inches in 100 fa¬
thoms, or 4^5. Suppose a weir on this river six feet
high and 18 feet wide.
We mu‘t first find the velocity and discharge of the
river in its natural state, we have/=480 inches, h —
36, - = Our formula of uniform motion gives
V=23.45, and D=4052l6 cubic inches.
The contraction obtains here on the three sides of the
orifice. We may therefore take J 2G = 26.1.—
K.B. This example is Mr Buat’s, and all the measures
are French. We have also a (the height of the weir)
72, and 2g = 724. Therefore the equation h r=
( ==^1—( —=- ^ becomes S0.182.
V 0.431 J2GIJ0 VV2g(«+/i)/
Add this to the height of the weir, and the depth of
the river above the sluice is 102.182, = 8 feet and
6.182 inches. From this take 3 feet, and there remains
5 feet and 6.182 inches for the rise of the waters.
There is, however, an important circumstance in this
rise of the waters, which must be distinctly understood
before we can say what are the interesting effects of this
weir. This swell extends, as we all know, to a consi¬
derable distance up the stream, but is less sensible as we
go away from the w eir. What is the distance to which
the swell extends, and what increase does it produce in
the depth at different distances from the weir ?
If w e suppose that the slope and the breadth of the
channel remain as before, it is plain, that as we come
down the stream from that point where the swell is in¬
sensible, the depth of the channel increases all the way
to the dam. Therefore, as the same quantity of wa¬
ter passes through every section of the river, the velo¬
city must diminish in the same proportion (very nearly)
that the s< ction increases. But this being an open
stream, and therefo. e the veloc'ty being inseparably con¬
nect* d with the slope of the sur'ace, it follows, that
the slope of the surface must diminish all the way from
that point where the swell of the water is insensible to
the dam. The surface, therefore, cannot be a simple
inclined plane, but must be cone ive upwards, as repre¬
sented in fig. 23. where FKLB represents the channel Fig. 23*
of
Practical
Inferences.
86 11 I V
Practical cfii river, and FB tire surface of tlic ■water running m it.
Inferences, jf t’,;s \x kept up to A by a weir AL, the surface
''■“'•'Y'"*" will be a curve FIA, touching the natural surface F
at the beginning of the swell, and the line AD which
touches it in A will have the slope S corresponding to
the velocity which the waters have immediately before
going over the weir. We know this slope, because we
are supposed to know the discharge of the river and its
slope and other circumstances before barring it with a
dam; and we know the height of the dam H, and
therefore the new velocity at A, or immediately above
A, and consequently the slope S. Therefore, drawing
the horizontal lines DC, AG, it is plain that CB and
CA will be the primary slope of the river, and the slope
S corresponding to the velocity in the immediate neigh¬
bourhood of A, because these verticles have the same
horizontal distance DC. We have therefore CB : CA
= S : j very nearly, and S—s : $:=CB—CA : CA*
—A (nearly): CA. Therefore CA = —
H s
  . But CA=GA X S, by our definition of slope;
S —s
therefore DA = -
fLS.s
S—s
This is all that we can say with precision of this
curve. Mr Buat examined what would result from
supposing it an arch of a circle. In this case we should
have DA—DF, and , AF very nearly equal to 2 AD :
and as we can thus find AD, we get the whole length
FIA of the swell, and also the distances of any part of
the curve from the primitive surface FB of the river;
for these will be very nearly in the duplicate proportion
of their distances from F. Thus ID will be one-fourth
of AB, Ac. Therefore we should obtain the length Id
of the stream in that place. Getting the depth of the
stream, and knowing the discharge, we get the velocity,
and can compare this with the slope of the surface at I.
This should be the slope of that part of the ai’ch of the
circle. Making this comparison, he found these cir¬
cumstances to be incompatible. He found that the sec¬
tion and swell at I, corresponding to an arch of a circle,
gave a discharge nearly one-fourth too great (they were
as 10621010 492142). Therefore the curve is such,
that AD is greater than DF, and that it is more incur-
vated at F than at A. Fie found, that making DA to
DF as 10 to 9* and the curve FIA an arch of an ellipse
whose longer axis was vertical, would give a very nice
correspondence of the sections, velocities, and slopes.
The whole extent of the swell, therefore, can never be
double of AD, and must always greatly surpass AD ;
and these limits will do very wrell for every practical
question. Therefore making DF nine-tenths of AD,
and drawing the chord AD, and making DI one-half
of D i, yve shall be very near the truth. Then we get
the sw ell with sufficient precision for any point H be¬
tween F and D, by making FD2 : FH2r=ID : HA;
and if H is between D and A, we get its distance from
the tangent DA by a similar process.
It only remains to determine the swull produced in
the waters of a river by the erection of a bridge or
cleaning sluice which contracts the passage. This re¬
quires the solution of
Pros. V Given the depth, breadth, and slope of a
rirer, to determine the swell occasioned by the piers of
E It. Part II,
a bridge or sides of a cleaning sluice, which contract Practical
the passage by a given quantity, for a given length of Inferences,
channel. S“,M'YW
This swell depends on two circumstances.
1. The whole river must pass through a narrow space,
with a velocity proportionably increased; and this re¬
quires a certain head of Avater above the bridge.
2. The water, in passing the length of the piers with
a velocity greater than that corresponding to the pri¬
mary slope of the river, will require a greater slope in
order to acquire this velocity.
Let V be the velocity of the river before the erec¬
tion of the bridge, and K the quotient of the w'idth of
the river divided by the sum of the widths between the
piers. If the length of the piers, or their dimension in
the direction of the stream, is not very great, K will
nearly express the velocity of the river under the arches;
and if we suppose for a moment the contraction (in the
sense hitherto used) to be nothing, the height produ-
K2V2
cing this velocity will be ——. But the river will
not rise so high, having already a slope and velocity be¬
fore getting under the arches, and the height corre-
V2
spending to this velocity is —; therefore the height
2g’
for producing the augmentation of velocity is —-
K5V2
y2
It will then become
— —. But if we make allowances for contraction we
2g
must employ a 2 G less than 2 g, and we must multiply
2 fi-
the height now found by
/K2V2 V2\ 2 a V2 f
( 1—> - — (K2—1). This is that part
V 2g 2g G 2 G v ' 1
of the swell which must produce the augmentation of
velocity.
With respect to what is necessary for producing the
additional slope between the piers, let p be the natural
slope of the river (or rather the difference of level in the
length of the piers) before the erection of the bridge,
and corresponding to the velocity V; K p will very
nearly express the difference of-superficial level for the
length of the piers, which is necessary for maintaining
the velocity K V through the same length. The increase
of slope therefore is K2 p—p—p (K2—i .) Therefore
the whole swell will be K2—1.
109
These are the chief questions or problems on this purther i
subject which occur in the practice of an engineer ; and tention t<
the solutions which we have given may in every case be tl>e ^j1
depended on as very near the truth, and we are confi-
dent that the errors will never amount to one-fifth of
the whole quantity. We are equally certain, that of
those who call themselves engineers, and who, without
hesitation, undertake jobs of enormous expence, not
one in ten is able even to guess at the result of such
operations, unless the circumstances of the case happen
to coincide with those of some other project which he
has executed, or has distinctly examined ; and very few
have the sagacity and penetration necessary for appre¬
ciating the effects of the distinguishing circumstances
which yet remain. Hie society established for the en¬
couragement
art IL 11 I
ractical c mi rage in en t of arts and manufactures could scivcely do
'erences. a move important service to the public in the line of
their institution, than by publishi nr in their Transac¬
tions a description of every work of this kind executed
in the kingdom, with an account of its performance.
This would be a most valuable collection of experiments
and facts. Theunlearned practitioner would find among
them something whichresembles in itschief circumstan¬
ces almost any project which could occur to him in his
business, and would tell him what to expect in the case
under his management; and the intelligent engineer,
assisted by mathematical knowledge, and the habit of
classing tilings together, would frequently be able to
frame general rules. To a gentleman qualified as was
the Chevalier de Buat, such a collection would be ines¬
timable, and might suggest a theory as far superior to
this as he has gone before all other writers.
110 We shall conclude this article with some observations
ides of on the methods which may be taken for rendering small
all'rivers ™vers an^ hrooks fit for inland navigation, or at least
d brooks ^or flotage. We get much instruction on this subject
for in- from what has been said concerning the swell produced
id navi- in a river by weirs, bars, or any diminution of its for-
aon. roer section. Our knowledge of the form which the
surface of this swell affects, will furnish rulesfor spacing
theseobstructionsin such amanner, and atsuch distances
from each other, that the swell produced by one shall
extend to the one above it.
If we know the slope, the breadth, and the depth
of a river, in the droughts of summer, and have deter¬
mined on the height of the flood-gates, or keeps,
which are to be set up in its bed, it is evident that
their stations are not matters of arbitrary choice, if we
would derive the greatest possible advantage from
them.
Some rivers in Flanders and Italy are made naviga¬
ble in some sort by simple sluices, which, being shut,
form magazines of water, which, being discharged by
opening the gates, raises the inferior reach enough to
permit the passage of the craft which are kept on it.
After this momentary rise the keeps are shut again,
the water sinks in the lower reach, and the lighters
which were floated through the shallows are now obli¬
ged to draw into those parts of the reach where they
can lie afloat till the next supply of water from above
enables them to proceed. This is a very rude and im¬
perfect method, and unjustifiable at this day, when we
know the effect of locks, or at least of double gates.
We do not mean to enter on the consideration of these
contrivances, and to give the methods of their construc¬
tion, in this place, but refer our readers to what has
been already said on this subject in the articles Canal,
Lock, Navigation (Inland), and to what will be
said in the article WATER-Works. At present we con¬
fine ourselves to the single point of husbanding the dif¬
ferent falls in the bed of the river, in such a manner
that there may be every where a sufficient depth of wa¬
ter: and, in what we have to deliver on the subject, we
shall take the form of an example to illustrate the ap¬
plication of the foregoing rules.
Suppose then a river 40 feet wide and 3 feet deep in
the droughts of summer, with a slope of 1 in 4800.
This, by the formula of uniform motion, will have a
Velocity =23^ inches per second, and its discharge
V E E, S7
will be 405216 cubic inche®, or 234J feet. It is pro- Practical
posed to give this river a depth not less than five feet
in any place, by means of flood-gates of six feet high
and 18 feet wide.
We first compute the height at which this body of
234| cubic feet of water will discharge itself over the
flood-gates. This we shall find by Prob. II. to be 30£
inches, to which adding 72, the height of the gate, we
have 102 J for the whole height of the water above the
floor of the gate: the primitive depth of the river be-*
injr 3 feet, the rise or swell 5 feet inches. In the
next place. We find the range or sensible extent of this
swell by Prob. I. and the observations which accom¬
pany it. This will be found to be nearly 9177 fathoms.
Now since the primitive depth of the river is three feet,
there is only wanted two feet of addition; and the
question is reduced to the finding what point of the
curved surface of the swell is two feet above the tan¬
gent plane at the head of the swell ? or how far thia
point is from the gate? The whole extent being 9177
fathoms, and the deviations from the tangent plane be¬
ing nearly in the duplicate ratio of the distances from
the point of contact, we may institute this proportion
661 : 24 = 91772 : 55262. The last term is the di¬
stance (from the head of the swell) of that part of the
surface which is two feet above the primitive surface of
the river. Therefore 9177—5526, or 3651 fathoms,
is the distance of this part from the flood-gate; and
this is the distance at which the gates should be placed
from each other. No inconvenience would arise from
having them nearer, if the banks be high enough to
contain the waters ; but if they are farther distant, the
rt qu'red depth of water cannot be had without increa¬
sing the height of the gates; but if reasons of conve-
niency should induce us to place them nearer, the same
depth may be secured by lower gates, and no addition¬
al height will be required for the banks. This is ge¬
nerally a matter of moment, because the raising of wa¬
ter brings along with it the chance of flooding the ad¬
joining fields. Knowingthe place where the swell ceases
to be sensible, we can keep the top of the intermediate
flood-gate at the precise height of the curved surface of
the swell by means of the proportionality of the devia¬
tions from the tangent to the distances from the point
of contact.
But this rule will not do for a gate which is at a
greater distance from the one above it than the 3651
fathoms already mentioned. We know that a higher
gate is required, producinga more extensive swell; and
the one swell does not coincide with the other, although
they may both begin from the same point A (fig. 24.). pig, 34,
Nor will the curves even besimilar, unless the thickness
of the sheet of water flowing over the gate be increased
in the same ratio. But this is not the case; because
the produce of the river, and therefore the thickness of
the sheet of water, is constant.
But we may suppose them similar without erring
more than twu or three decimals of an inch ; and then
we shall have AF : ALrr/F : DL; from which, if
we take the thickness of the sheet of water already cal¬
culated for the other gates, there will remain the height
of the gate BL.
By f ollowing these methods, instead of proceedingby
random guesses, we shall procure the greatest depth of
water at the smallest expence possible.
But
88
Practical
Inferences.
V-Ti7^
Effects of
freshes,
Iv I V
But there is a circumstance which must be attendel
to and which, if neglected, may in a short time render
all our works useless. These gates must frequently be
open in the time of freshes ; and as this channel then
has its natural slope increased in every reach by the
great contraction of the section in the gates, and alo
rolls along a greater body of water, the action of the
stream on its bed must be increased by the augmenta¬
tion of velocity which these circumstances will produce:
and although we may say that the general slope is ne¬
cessarily secured by the cills of the flood-gates, which
are paved with stone or covered with planks, yet this
will not hinder this increased current from digging up
the bottom in the intervals, undermining the banks,
and lodging the mud and earth thus carried off in
places where the current meets with any check. All
these consequences will assuredly follow if the increased
velocity is greater than what corresponds to the regi¬
men rel tive to the soil in which the river holds on its
112 course.
and of lo- in order therefore to procure durability to works of
oal circum- this kind, which are generally of enormous expence,
stwlces’ the local circumstances must be most scrupulously stu¬
died. It is not the ordinary hurried survey of an en¬
gineer that will free us from the risk of our navigation
becoming very troublesome by the rise of the waters
being diminished fomtheir former quantity, and banks
formed at a smad distance below' every sluice. We must
attentively study the nature of the soil, and discover ex¬
perimentally the velocity which is not inconsistent with
the permanency of the channel. If this be not a great
deal less than that of the river when accelerated by
freshes, the regimen may be preserved after the esta¬
blishment of the gate, and no greA changes in the
channel will be necessary : but if, on the other hand,
the natural velocity of the river during its freshes great¬
ly exceeds what is consistent with stability, we must
enlarge the width of the channel, that we may diminish
the hydraulic mean depth, and along with this the ve¬
locity. Therefore, knowing the quantity discharged
during the freshes, divide it by the velocity of regimen,
or rather by a velocity somewhat greater (for a reason
which w'ill appear by and by), the quotient will be the
area of a new section. Then taking the natural slope
of the river for the slope which it will preserve in this
enlarged channel, and after the cills of the flood-gates
have been fixed, we must calculate the hydraulic mean
depth, and then the other dimensions of the channel.
And, lastly, from the known dimensions of the channel
and the discharge (which we must now compute), we
proceed to calculate the height and the distances of the
flood-aates, adjusted to their widths, which must be re¬
gulated by the room which may be thought proper for
the free passage of the lighters which are to ply on the
river. An example will illustrate the whole of this
H3 process.
illustrated Supposethen a small river havinga slope of twoinches
by an ex- jn 100 talhoms or which is a very usual declivity
ample. 0fsuch smailstreams, and whose depth in summer istwo
feet, but subj etto floods which raise it to nine feet. Let
its breadth at trie bottom be 18 feet, and the base of its
slanting sides four-tmrds of their height. All of these
dimensionsare vety conformable to theurdinary courseof
things. It i» proposed to make this rive; navigable in
all seasons by means of keeps and gaits placed at pro-
E E. Part II,
per distances; and we want to know the dimensions of Practical
a channel which will be permanent in a soil which be- Inferences,
gins to yiikl to a velociiy of 80 inches per second, but
will be safe under a velocity of 24'.
The primitive channel having the properties of a rect¬
angular channel, its breadth during the freshes must
be 11=30 feet, or 3b0 inches, and its depth h nine feet
or 108 inches ; therefore its hyd aulic mean depth
dz=. —=Gl.88 inches. Its real velocity there-
B+2A 3
fore, during the freshes, will be 38.9447 inches, and its
discharge 1514169 cubic inches, or 87G| cubic feet
per second. We see therefore that the natural channel
will not be permanent, and will be very quickly destroy¬
ed or changed by this great ve ocity. W’e have two
methods for procuring stability, viz. diminishing the
slope, or widening the bed. The first method will re¬
quire the course to be lengthened in the proportion of
242 to 39882, or nearly of 35 to 100. The expence
of this \vould be enormous. The second method will
require the hydraulic mean depth to be increased near¬
ly in the same proportion (because the velocities are
nearly as-^'Y This will evidently be much less cos^"
ly, and, even to procure convenient room for the navi¬
gation, must be preferred.
We must now observe, that the great velocity, of
which we are afraid, obtains only during the winter
floods. If therefore we reduce this to 24 inches, it must
happen that the autumnal freshes,loaded with sandand
mud, will certainly deposit a part of it, and choke up
our channel below the flood-gates. We must therefore
select a mean velocity some whatexceeding the regimen,
that it may carry off these depositions. We shall take
27 inches, which will produce this effect on the loose
mud without endangering our channel in any remark¬
able degree.
Therefore we have, by the theorem for uniform mo¬
tion, V = 27, _£^7_(v^^i}_o.s(r
isj ij ft '-j- 1.6 '■
Calculating the divisor of this formula, we find it
27 inch. _
= 55.884. Hence d—0.1= L,r'~ ~~ ’ *
297
0.3
55.884
and therefore <7=30^2. Having thus determined the
hydraulic mean depth, wefindtheareaSof the section by
dividingthe discharge 1514169 by the velocity 27- This
gives us 56080.368. Then we get the bread h b by
the formula formerly given B=
= 1802.296 inches, or 150.19 feet, and the depth A=
31.115 inches.
W ith these dimensions of the section we are certain
that the channel will be permanent; and the cills of
the flood-gate being all fixed agreeab’e to the primitive
slope, we need not fear that it will be changed in the
intervals by the action of the current., The gates being
ad open during the freshes, the bottom will he cleared
of the whole deposited mud
We must now station the flood-gates along tire new ^
channel, at such distances that we may have the ( epth ^fiood-
of water which is proper for the lighters that &re to be gates, &£•
employed
114
Station et'
Rive r s
/y^i 77i' rrrcLx//.
£. A<fi ?<'7?s'// /<'?//// /*
Part II. II I V
Practical' employed iu iKe- nivigation. Suppose this to be Tour
Inferences, feet. We must first of all learn bow high the water
will be kept in this new channel during the summer
droughts. There remained in the primitive channel
only two feet, and the section in this case had 20 feet
eight inches mean width ; and the discharge correspond¬
ing to this section and slope T^Vo is> by the theorem
of uniform motion, 130,849 cubic inches per second.
To find the depth of water in the new channel corre¬
sponding to this discharge and the same slope, we must
take the method of approximation formerly exemplified,
remembering that the dhchatge D is 130849, and the
breadth B is 17OO.S at the bottom (the slant sides be¬
ing four-thirds). These data will produce a depth of
water — 6^ inches. To obtain four feet therefore be¬
hind any of the flood-gates, we must have a swell of
411 inches produced by the gate below.
We must now determine the width of passage w hich
must be given at the gates. This will regulate the
thickness of the sheet of water which flows over them
when shut; and this, with the height of the gate, fixes
the swell at the gate. The extent ef this swell, and
the elevation of every point of its curved surface above
the new surface of the river, require a combination of
the height of swell at the flood-gate, w ith the primitive
slope and the new velocity. These being computed, the
stations of the gates may be assigned, which w ill secuie
four feet of water behind each in summer. We need
not give these computat’ons, having already exemplified
them all with relation to another river.
This example not only illustrates the method of pro¬
ceeding, so as to be ensured of success, but also gives
us a precise instance of what must be clone in a case
which cannot but frequently occur. We see what a
prodigious excavation is necessary, in order to obtain
permanency. We have been obliged to enlarge the pri¬
mitive bed to about thrice its former size, so that the
excavation is at least two-thirds of what the other me¬
thod required. The expence, however, will still be vast¬
ly inferior to the other, both from the nature of the
work and the quantity of ground occupied. At all
events, the expence is enormous, and wrhat ceuld never
be repaid by the navigation, except in a very rich and
populous country.
There is another circumstance to he attended to.—
The navigation of this river by sluices must be very de¬
sultory, unless they are extremely numerous, and of
small heights. The natural surface of the swell being
concave upwards, the additions made by its different
parts to the primitive height of the river decrease rapid¬
ly as they approach to the place A (fig. 23.) where the
swell terminates ; and three gates, each of which raises
the water one foot when placed at the proper distance
from each other, will raise the water much more than
two gates at twice this distance, each raising the water
two feet. Moreover, when the elevation produced by a
flood-gate is considerable, exceeding a very few inches,
the fall and current produced by the opening of the gate
is such, that no boat can possibly pass up the river, and
it runs imminent risk of being overset and sunk, in the
attempt to go down the stream. This renders the na¬
vigation desultory. A number of lighters collect tliem-
selves at the gates, ami wait their opening. They pass
through as soon as the current becomes moderate. This
would not, perhaps, be very hurtful in a regulated navk.
Vol. XVIII. Part L
E It. £3
gallon, if they could then proceed on the'r voyage Practical
But the boats bound up the river must stay on the up- ^nfertrice),»
per side of the gate which they have just now passed,
because the channel is now too shallow for them to pro¬
ceed. *1 hose bound down the river can only go to the
next gate, unless it has been opened at a time nicely
adjusted to the opening of the one above it. The pas¬
sage downwards mat/, in many cases, be continued, by
very intelligent and attentive lockmeti; but the passage
up tnusi be ■exceedingly tedious. Nay, we may say, that
tr/u/e the passage downwards is continuous, it is hut in
a very few cases that the passage upward is practicable.
If we add to these inconveniences the great danger of
passes during the freshes, while all the gates are open,
and the immense and unavoidable accumulations of ice,
on occasion even of slight frosts, we may see that this
method of procuring an inland navigation is amaz ngly
expensive, desultory, tedious, and hazardous. It did
not therefore merit, on its own account, the attention
we have bestowed on it. But the discussion was abso¬
lutely necessary, in order to show what must be dene in
order to obtain effect and permanency, and thus to pre¬
vent us from engaging in a project which, to a person
not duly and confidently informed, is so feasible and
promising. Many professional engineers are ready, and
with honest intentions, to undertake such tasks; and
by avoiding this immense expence, and conlenting
themselves with a much narrower channel, they suc¬
ceed, (witness the old navigation of the river Mersey).
But the work has no duration ; and, not having been
found very serviceable, its cessation is not matter of
much regret. The work is not much spoken of during
its continuance. It is soon forgotten, as well as its
failure, and engineers are found ready to engage for
such another.
It was not a very refined thought to change this 11.5
imperfect mode for another free from most of its incon- Introdue-
veniences. A boat was brought up the river, through tio" of
one of these gates, only by raising the waters of the loclcs*
inferior reach, and depressing those of the upper: and
it could not escape observation, that when the gates were
far asunder, a vast body of water mu^t be discharged be¬
fore this could he done, and that it would be a great im¬
provement todouble eachgate, with a verysmal! distance
between. Thus a very small quantity of w'ater would
fill the interval to the desired height, and allow the boat
to come through: and this thought was the more ob¬
vious, from a similar practice having preceded it, viz.
that of navigating a small river by meansof double bars,
the lowest of which lay flat in the bottom of the river,
but could be raised up on hinges. We have mentioned
this already; and it appears to have been an old prac¬
tice. being mentioned by Stevinus in his valuable work
on sluices, published about the beginning of the 17th
century ; yet no trace of th s method is to be found of
much older dates. It occurred, however, accidentally,
pretty often in the flat countries of Holland and Flan¬
ders, which being the seat of frequent wars, almost
every town and village was fortified with wet ditches,
connected with the adjoining rivers. Stevinus mentions
particularly the works of Conde, as having been long
employed, with great ingenuity, for rendering naviga¬
ble a very long stretch of the Scheldt. The boats were
received into the lower part of the fossee, which was^
separated from the rest by a stone batardeau, servintr to
t M keep
90
Practicsl keep up tlie waters in the rest of the fossee about eight
Inferences. fee};_ jn this was a sluice and another dam, by which
the boats could be taken into the upper fossee, which
communicated with a remote part of the Scheldt by a
long canal. This appears to be one of the earliest
locks.
In the first attempt to introduce this improvement in
the navigation of rivers already kept up by weirs, which
gave a partial and interrupted navigation, it was usual
to avoid the great expence of the second dam and gate,
by making the lock altogether detached from the ri¬
ver, wuthin land, and having its bason parallel to the ri¬
ver, and communicating by one end with the river
above the weir, and by the other end with the river be¬
low the weir, and having a flood-gate at each end.—
This Avas a most ingenious thought; and it was a pro¬
digious improvement, free from all the inconveniences
of currents, ice, &c. & c. It was called a schlussel, or
lock, with considerable propriety ; and this was the ori¬
gin of the word sluice, and of our application of its
translation lock. This practice being once introduced,
k was not long before engineers found that a complete
separation of the navigation from the bed of the river
was not only the most perfect method for obtaining a
sure, easy, and uninterrupted navigation, but that it
■was in general the most economical in its first construc¬
tion, and subject to no risk of deterioration by the ac¬
tion of the current, which was here entirely removed.
Locked canals, therefore, have almost entirely supplant¬
ed all attempts to improve the natural beds of rivers ;
and this is hardly ever attempted except in the flat
countries, where they can hardly be said to differ from
horizontal canals. We therefore close with these ob¬
servations this article, and reserve v hat is yet to be said
on the construction of canals and locks for the article
Water- Works.
116
Concluding We beg leave, however, to detain the reader for
observations a few moments. He cannot but have observed our
anxiety to render this dissertation worthy of his notice,
by making it practically useful. We have on every
occasion appealed, from all theoretical deductions, how¬
ever specious and well supported, to fact and observation
of those spontaneous phenomena of nature which are
continually passing in review before us in the motion
of running -waters. Resting in this manner our whole
doctrines on experiment, on the observation of what
really happens, and what happens in a way which we
cannot or do not fully explain, these spontaneous opera¬
tions of nature came insensibly to acquire a particular
value in our imagination. It has also happened in the
course of our reflections on these subjects, that thesephe-
nomena have frequently presented themselves to our
view in groups, not less remarkable for the extent and
the importance of their consequences than for the sim¬
plicity, and frequently the seeming insignificancy, nay
frivolity, of the means employed. Our fancy has there¬
fore been sometimes warmed with the view of a some¬
thing ; an
JEns agilans molem, ct magno se corpore miscens.
This has sometimes made us express ourselves in a way
that is susceptible of misinterpretation, and may even
lead into a mistake of our meaning..
Part 1]
We therefore find ourselves obliged to declare, that Practical
bv the term Nature, which we have so frequently l!,firenco.
used con amore, we do not mean that indescribable idol “rW
which the self-conceit and vanity of some philosophers
or pretended philosophers have setup and ostentatiously
worshipped, that ens ralionis, that creature of the ima¬
gination, which has long been the object of cool con¬
templation in the closet of the philosopher, and has
shared his attention with many other playthings of his
ever-working fancy. By Nature, then, we mean that
admirable system of general laws, by which the adored
Author and Governor of the universe has thought fit to
connect the various parts of this wonderful and goodly
frame of things, and to regulate all their operations.
We are not afraid of continually appealing to the
laws of nature: and as we have already observed in
the article Philosophy, we consider these general laws
as the most magnificent displaysof Infinite Wisdom, and
the contemplation of them as the most cheering employ¬
ment of our understandings.
Igneus est illis vigor ct ccdeslis origo
Seminibus.
At the same time we despise the cold-hearted philoso¬
pher who stops short here, and is satisfied (perhaps
inwardly pleased) that he has completely accounted for
every thing by the laws of unchanging nature; and we
suspect that this philosopher would analyse with the
same frigid ingenuity, and explain by irresistible $oeyr„
the tender attachment of her wdiose breast he sucked,
and who by many anxious and sleepless nights preserved
alive the puling infant. But let us rather listen to the
words of him who was the most sagacious observer and
the most faithful interpreter of nature^ laws, our illustri¬
ous countryman Sir Isaac Newton. He fays,
“ Elegantissima haecce rerum compages non nisi consi-
lio et dominio entis sapientissimi et potentissimi oriri po-
tuit. Omnia, simili constructa consilio, suberunt unins
dominio. Hie omnia regit, non ut anima mundi, sedut
universorum dominus. Propter dominium suum domi-
nus deus, crarroxgarwg nuncupatur. Deus ad servientes
respieit, et deitas est dominatio dei, non in corpus pro-
prium, uti sentiunt quibus deus est natura seu aniina
mundi, sed in servos. Deus summus est ens eternum,
infinitum, absolute perfectum. Ens utcunque perfectum,
at sine dominio, non est dominus deus.
“ Hunc cognoscimus, solummodo per proprietates
ejus et attributa. Attribuuntur ut ex phenomenis
dignoscuntur. Phenomena sunt sapientissimae ct opti-
mse rerum structurae, atque causae finales.— Hunc admi-
ramur ob perfectiones ; hunc veneramur et colimus ob
dominium.”
Our readers will probably be pleased with the fol¬
lowing list of authors who have treated professedly of
the motionsof rivers: Guglielmini De Fluviiset Custettis
Aquarum—Danubius Illustralus ; Grandi De Caslellis ;
Zendrini De Molu Slquarum ; Frisius de Fluviis ; Lec-
chi Idroslatica i Idraulica; Michelotti Spereinze I-
drauliche ; Belulor’s Architecture Hydraulique ; Bossut
Hydrodynamique; Buat Hydraulique; Silberschlag The-
orie des Fleuves ; Lettres de M. L’Epinasse au F. Frisi
touchant sa Theorie des Fleuves ; Tableau dcsprincipalcs
Rivieres du Monde, par Genette; Stevins sur les Ecluses;
'Trade des Ecluses, par Boulard, qui a remporte Ic Friz
de.
RIVE R.
%
jWtll. R I v
s radical de l’Acad, de Lyons ; Bleiswyck Disscrtalio dc Aggeri-
] ereuccs. fag . Bossut et Viallet sur la Construction des Digues ;
' Stevin Hydrostalica ; Tielman van der Horst Thcatrum
Machinarum Universale ; Do la Lande sur la Canauxde
Navigation; Racolta di Autori chi Tratlano del Molo
dell’ Acque, S tom. 4to. Firenza 1723.—This most va-
E It.
luable collection eentsms tbe writings of Arclnaiedes,
Albizi, Galileo, Castelli, Michelini, Borelli, Monta¬
nan', Viviani, Cassini, Guglielmini, Grandi, Manfredi,
Picard, and Narduci; and an account of the number¬
less works which have been carried on in the embank¬
ment of the Po.
Practical
Inferences.
E 0 A
liver- Rirnn-Water. This is generally much softer and
fater. bctteraccommodated to economical purposes than spring-
j| water. For though rivers proceed originally from
load. springs, yet, by their rapid motion, and by being ex-
posed during a long course to the influence of the sun
and air, the earthy and metallic salts which they contain
are decomposed, the acid flies off, and the terrestrial
parts precipitate to the bottom. Pavers are also ren¬
dered softer by the vast quantity of rain-water, which,
passing along the surface of the earth* is conveyed into
their channels. But all rivers carry with them a great
deal of mud and other impurities ; and when they flow
near large and populous towns, they become impregna¬
ted with a number of heterogeneous substances, in which
state the water is certainly unfit for many purposes; yet
by remaining for some time at rest, all the feculencies
subside, and the water becomes sufficiently pure formost
of the common purposes of life. River water may be
rendered still purer by filtration through sand and gra¬
vel ; a method which was first resorted to in Paisley,
and more lately in Glasgow, for supplying the inhabi¬
tants of those towns with good water.
RIVERS, Earl. See Wodevile.
RIVINA, a genus of plants belonging to the tetran-
dria class. See Botany Index. This plant is called
Sdonides by Tournefort, and Piercea by Miller. There
are four species which grow naturally in most of the
islands of the West Indies. The juice of the berries of
one species will stain paper and linen of a bright red
colour, and many experiments made with it to colour
flowers have succeeded extremely well in the following
manner : the juice of the berries was pressed out, and
mixed with common water, putting it into a phial,
shaking it well together for some time, till the water
was thoroughly tinged ; then the flowers, which were
Avhite and just fully blown, were cut off, and their
stalks placed into the phial; and in one night the flowers
have been finely variegated with red ; the flowers on
which the experiments were made were the tuberose,
and the double white narcissus.
RIVULET, a diminutive of river. See River.
ROACH. See Cyprinus, Ichthyology Index.
ROAD, an open way, or public passage, forming a
communication between one place and another.
Of all the people in the world the Romans took the
most pains in forming roads ; and the labour and ex¬
penses they were at in rendering them spacious, firm,
straight, and smooth, are incredible. They usually
strengthened the ground by ramming it, laying it with
flints, pebbles, or sands, and sometimes with a lining
of masonry, rubbish, bricks, &c. bound together with
mortar. In some places in the Lyonois, F. Menestrier
observes, that he has found huge clusters of flints ce¬
mented with lime, reaching 10 or 12 feet deep, and
II 0 A
making a mass as hard and compact as marble; and Rc
which, after resisting the injuries of time for 1 (iOO _
years, is still scarcely penetrable by all the force of ham- i
mers, mattocks, &c. and yet the flints it consists of are
not bigger than eggs. The mosttioble of the Roman
roads was the Via Appia, which was carried to such a
vast length, that Procopius reckons it five days journey
to the end of it, and Leipsius computes it at 350 miles:
it is 12 feet broad, and made of square free-stone ge¬
nerally a foot and a half on each side; and though this
has lasted for above 1800 years, yet in many places it
is for several miles together entire as when it was first
made.
The ancient roads are distinguished into military roads,
double roads, subterraneous roads, &c. The military
roads were grand roads, formed by the Romans for
marching their armies into the provinces of the empire ;
the principal of these Roman roads in England are Wat-
ling-street,Ikenild-street,Foss-wTay,andErminage-street.
Double roads among the Romans, were roads for car¬
riages, with two pavements, the one for those going one
wray, and the other for those returning the other : these
were separated from each other by a causewray raised in
the middle, paved with bricks, for the conveniency at'
foot passengers; with borders and mounting stones from
space to space, and military columns to mark the di¬
stance. Subterraneous roads are those dug through a
rock, and left vaulted ; as that of Puzzuoli near Naples,
which is near half a league long, and is 15 feet broad
and as many high.
The first law enacted respecting highways and roads
in England vras in the year 1285 ; when the lords of the
soil were enjoined to enlarge those rvai/s where bushes,
woods, or ditches be, in order to prevent robberies.
The next law wras made by Edward III. in the year
1346; when a commission was granted by the king to
lay a toll on all sorts of carriages passing from the hos¬
pital of St Giles in the fields to the bar of the Old
Temple, and also through another highway called Port-
pool (now" Gray’s Inn Lane) joined to the before-named
higjiway; which roads were become almost impassable.
Little further relating to this subject occurs, till the
reign of Henry VIII. when the parishes were intrusted
with the care of the roads, and surveyors were annually
elected to take care of them. But the increase of lux¬
ury and commerce introduced such a number of heavy
carriages for the conveyance of goods, and lighter ones
for the convenience and ease of travelling, that parish
aid was found insufficient to keep the best frequented
roads in repair. This introduced toll-gates or turnpikes ;
that something might be paid towards their support by
every individual who enjoyed the benefit of these im¬
provements, by passing over the roads.
Speaking of roads, the abbe Raynal justly remarks,
Mg “ Let
E 0 B " C 93
Road ^ Let us travel over all the countries of the earth, and
wherever we shall find no facility of trading from a city
Robbery. to a town, and from a village to a hamlet, we may pro-
''•"’T'*'' nounce the people to be barbarians ; and we shall only
be deceived respecting the degree of barbarism.”
Road, in Navigation, a bay, or place of anchorage,
at some distance from the shore, whither ships or vessels
occasionally repair to receive intelligence, orders, or ne¬
cessary supplies ; or to wait for a fair wind, &c. The
excellence of a road consists chiefly in its being protec¬
ted from the reigning winds and the swell ot the sea;
in having a good anchoring-ground, andbeing at a com¬
petent distance from the shore. Those which are not
sufficiently inclosed are termed open roads.
ROAN, in. the manege. A roan hoi'se is one of a
bay, sorrel, or black colour, with gray or white spots
interspersed very thick. When this party-coloured coat
is accompanied with a black head and black extremi¬
ties, he is called a roan horse with a black-a-moor’s head :
and if the same mixture is predominant upon a deep
sorrel, he is called claret-roan.
ROANOAK, an island of North America, near the
coast of North Carolina. Here the English first at¬
tempted to settle in 1585, but were obliged to leave it
for want of provisions. E. Long. 7.5. 0. N. Lat. 35.
.4°.
Roanoak, a river of North America, which rises in
Virginia, runs through Carolina, and at length falls into
the sea, where it forms a long narrow bay called Albe-
marie sound.
ROASTING, in metallurgic operations, signifies the
dissipation of the volatile parts of an ore by means of
heat. See Ores, Reduction of.
ROB, in Pharmacy, the juices of fruits purified and
inspissated till it is of the consistence of honey.
ROBBERY, the rapina of the civilians, is the fe¬
lonious and forcible taking, from the person of another,
of goods or money to any value, by violence or putting
him in fear. 1. There must be a taking, otherwise it
is no robbery. A mere attempt to rob was indeed held
to be felony so late as Henry IVth’s time; but after¬
wards it was taken to be only a misdemeanour, and
punishable with fine and imprisonment; till the statute 7
Geo. II. c. 21. which makes it a felony (transportable
for seven years) unlawfully and maliciously to assault
another, with any offensive weapon or instrument;—or
by menaces, or by other forcible or violent manner, to
demand any money or goods; with a felonious intent to
rob. If the thief, having once taken a purse, returns it,
still it is a robbery : and so it is whether the taking be
strictly from the person of another, or in his presence
only; as where a robber by menaces and violence puts
a man in fear, and drives away his sheep or his cattle
before his face. 2. It is immaterial of what value the
thing taken is : a penny, as well as a pound, thus forci¬
bly extorted, makes a robbery. 3. Lastly, the taking
must be by force, or a previous putting in fear; which
makes the violation of the person more atrocious than
priva'ely stealing. For, according to the maxim of the
civil law, “ qui vi rapuit, fur improbior esse videtur.’
This previous violence, or putting in fear, is the crite¬
rion that distinguishes robbery fromotherlarcenies. For
if one privately steals sixpence from the person of an¬
other, amlafterwardskeepsitbyputting him in fear, this
h no robhgry, for the fear is subsequent; neither is it
y BOB
capital as privately stealing, being under the value of Bobbciy,
twelvepence. Not that it is indeed necessary, though
usual, to lay in the indictment that the robbery was
committed by putting in fear : it is sufficient, if laid to
be done by violence. And when it is laid to be done
by putting in fear, this does not imply any great degree
of terror or affright in the party robbed : it is enough
that so much force or threatening, by word or gesture,
be used, as might create an apprehension of danger, or
induce aman to part with liis property withoutoragainst
his consent. Thus, if a man be knocked down without
previous warning, and stripped of his property while
senseless, though strictly he cannot be said to be put in
fear, yet this is undoubtedly a robbery. Or, if a per¬
son with a sword drawn begs an alms, and I give it him
through mistrust and apprehension of violence, this is a
felonious robbery. So if, under a pretence of sale, a
man forcibly extorts money from another, neither shall
this subterfuge avail him.—But it is doubted, whether
the forcing ahigler, or other chapman, tosell his wares,
and giving him the full value of them, amounts to so
heinous a crime as robbery.
This species of larceny is debarred of the benefit
of clergy by statute 23 Hen. VIII. c. 1. and other sub¬
sequent statutes ; not indeed in general, but only when
committed in a dwelling-house, or in or near the king’s
highway. A robbery, therefore, in a distant field, or
footpath, was not punished with death; but was open
to the benefit of clergy, till the statute 3 and 4 W. and
M. c. Q. which takes away clergy from both principals
and accessories before the fact, in robbery, wheresoever
committed. See Law, N° clxxxvi. 20.
ROBERT Bruce, king of Scotland, in 1306; a re- ,
nowned general, and the deliverer of his country from a
state of vassalage to the English. See Scotland.
Robert, king cf France, surnarned the Wise and the
Pious, came to the crown in 996, after the death of
Hugh Capet his father. He was crowned at Orleans,
the place of his nativity, and afterwards at Rheims, af¬
ter the imprisonment of Charles of Lorraine. He mar¬
ried Bertha his cousin, daughter of Conrad king of
Burgundy ; but the marriage was declared null by Gre¬
gory V.; and the king, if we can give credit to Cardi¬
nal Peter Damien, was excommunicated. This ana¬
thema made such a noise in France, that all the king’s
courtesans, and even his very domestics, went away,
from him. Only two continued with him ; who were
sodeeply impressed with a sen seof horror at whatever the
king touched, that theypurified it with fire: this scruple
they carried so far, as to the very plates on which he
was served •with his meat, and the vessels out of which
he drank. The same cardinal reports, that as a punish¬
ment fi r his pretended incest, the queen was delivered
of a monster, which had the head and neck of a duckv.
He adds, that Robert was so struck with astonishment
at this species of prodigy, that he lived apart from the
queen. He contracted a second marriage with Con¬
stance, daughter of William count of Aries and Pro¬
vence ; but the arrogant disposition of this princess
would have totally overturned the kingdom, and thrown
it into confusion, had not the wisdom of the king pre¬
vented her from intermeddling with the affairs of the
state. Fie carefully concealed from he» whatever acts
ot liberality he showed to any of his domestics. “ Take
care (said he to them) that the queen don’t perceive
it.”
ROB [ 93 ] ROB
Robert, it.” Henry duke of Burgundy, brother of Hugh Ca-
—pet, dying in 1002, ■w ithout lawful issue, left his duke¬
dom to his nephew the king of France. Robert in¬
vested his second son Henry with this dukedom, who
afterwards coming to the crown, resigned it in favour
of Robert his cadet. This duke Robert was chief of
the first royal branch of the dukes of Burgundy, who
flourished till 1 .Sfi 1. This dukedom was then re-united
to the crown by King Joiin, who gave it to his fourth
son Philip the Bold, chief of the second house of Bur¬
gundy, which was terminated in the person of Charles
the Rash who was slain in 1477- King Robert was so
much esteemed iiov his wisdom and prudence, that he
was offered the empire and kingdom of Italy, which,
however, he declined to accept. Hugh,called the Great,
whom he had had by Constance, being dead, he caused
his second son Henry I. to be crowned at Rheirns. He
died at Melun, July 20. 1031, at the age of 00. Ro¬
bert was, according to the knowledge of the times, a
wise prince. Hegland, friar of Fleury, relates, in his
life of him, that, to prevent his subjects from falling
into the crime of perjury, and incurring the penalties
which followed thereon, he made them swear upon a
shrine from which the relics had been previously re¬
moved, as if intention did not constitute perjury ! and
long after similar reasoning was adopted. Robert built
a great number of churches, and procured a restitution
to the clergy of the tithes and wealth which the lay-
lords had made themselves masters of. The depreda¬
tions were such, that the laity possessed the ecclesiasti¬
cal treasures by hereditary titles ; they divided them
among their children; they even gave benefices as a
dowry with their daughters, or left them to their sons
as lawful inheritance. Although Robert was pious,
and although he respected the clergy, yet it was evi¬
dent, that he opposed the bishops with a firmness and
resolution, of which, for many ages, they had no ex¬
amples. Lutheric archbishop of Sens had introduced
into his diocese the custom of proving by the eucharist
persons accused as guilty of any crime. The king
wrote to him in the following strong terms : —“ I swear
{says he) by the faith I owe to God, that if you do not
put a stop to the gross abu ecomplained of, you shall be
deprived of your priesthood.” The prelate was forced
to comply. He punished, in 1022, the Manichcens,
canons of Orleans, by burning them at the stake. There
are, however, recorded of him some less severe actions,
which it is right to mention. A dangerous conspiracy
against his person and government having been disco¬
vered, and the authors taken into custody, he seized the
moment when their judges had met to sentence them to
death, to cause an elegant repast to be served up to them.
Next day they were admitted to the eusharist. Then
Robert told them, that he gave them their pardon, “ be¬
cause none of those can die whom Jesus Christ came to
receive at his table.” One day when he was at prayers
in the chapel, he perceived a thief, who had cut off the
half of the fringe of his mantle, proceeding to take the
remainder ; “ Friend (says he with a pleasant counten¬
ance), be content with what you have already taken,
the rest will very well serve some other.” Robert cul¬
tivated, and was a patronizer of the sciences. There
are several hymns wrote by him, which still continue to
be sung in the church. His reign was happy and tran¬
quil. According to some authors,he instituted the order
of the Star, commonly attributed tef King John.
Robert of France, second son of Louis VIIf. and
brother to St Louis, who erected in h:s favour Artois
into a royal peerage in the year 1237. It was during
this time that tire unlucky difference between Pope
Gregory IX. and the emperor Frederic II. took place.
Gregory offered to St Lou's the empire for Robert;
but the French noblesse, having met to deliberate on
this proposal, were of opinion that he ought to reject
it. He gave the pope for answer: “ That Count Ro¬
bert esteemed himself sufficiently honoured by beingthe
brother of'aking, who surpassed in dignity, in strength,
in wealth, and in birth, all other monarchs in the world.”
Robert accompanied St Louis into Egypt, and fought
with more bravery than prudence at the battle of Mas-
soure, on the qth of February 1250. In his pursuit of
the cowards through a certain small village, he was kill¬
ed by stones, sticks, and other things which they threw
at him from the windows. He was an intrepid prince,
but too passionate, dogmatical, and quarrelsome.
Robert II. Count of Artois, son of the preced ng,
surnamed the Good and the Nob’e, was at the expedi¬
tion into Africa ift 1270. He drove the rebels from,
Navarre in 1276. He brought a very powerful assist¬
ance to Charles I. king of Naples, of whrch kingdom
he was regent during the captivity of Charles II. He
defeated the Arragonians in Sicily in 128.0, the Eng¬
lish neat Bayonne in 1206, and the Flemish at Furnes
in 129S- But having in 1302 imprudently attempted
to force these last, when encamped near Courtray, he
received no less than 30 wounds ; and in that expedition
lost both his honour and his life. He was a brave, but
passionate and fierce man, and good at nothing but pu¬
gilistic encounters. Mahaud his daughter inherited the
dukedom of Artois,and gave herself in marriage toOtho
duke of Bu"gundy, by whom she had two daughters,
Jane wife of Philip the Long, and Blanche wife of
Charles the Fair. In the mean time Philip, son of Ro¬
bert II. had a son.
Robert III. who disputed the dukedom of Artois
with Mahaud his aunt; but he lost his suit by two
sentences given in against him in 1302 and 1318. He
wished to revive the process in 1329, under Philip of
Valois, by means of pretended new titles, which were
found to be talse. Robert was condemned the third
time, and banished the kingdom in 1331. Having
found an asylum with Edward III. kinfif of England,
he undertook to declare him king of France ; which
proved the cause of those long and cruel wars which
distressed that kingdom. Robert was wounded at the
sie^e of Vannes in 1342, and died of his wound in Eng¬
land. John, son to Robert, and count of Eu, was taken
prisoner at the battle of Poitiers in 1356, and termi¬
nated his career in 1387- His son Philip II. high con¬
stable of France, carried on war in Africa and Hungary,
and died in 1397, being a prisoner of the Turks.. He
had a son named Charles, wkn died in i 472, leaving nu
issue.
Robert of Anjou, suvnamed the Wise, third son of
Charles the Lame, succeeded his father in the kingdom
of Naples in 130’9„, by the protection of the popes, ami
the will of the P eople, to the exclusion of Charobert
son of his eldest brother. He aided the Roman pontiffs
against
Robert,
HOB [ 94 ] ROB
Hebert, against the emperor Henry VII. and, a'ter the death of
W-Vw t!iat prince, was nominated in 1813 vicar of the empire
in I tidy, in temporal matters, unless a new emperor was
elected. This title was given him by Clement V. in
virtue of a right which he pretended to have to govern
the empire during an interregnum. Robert reigned with
glory S3 years, eight months, and died on the 19th of
January aged 64. “ This prince (^ays M. De
Montigni) had not those qualities which constitute he¬
roes, but he had those whicii make good kings. He
was religious,affable, generous, kind, wise,prudent, and
a zealous promoter of justice.” He was called the 60-
/otnon of his age. He loved the poor, and caused a
ticket to be placed upon his palace, to give notice when
he meant to distribute from the throne. He had no
other passion but a very great love for learning. He
used to say, that he would rather renounce his crown
than his study. His court soon became the sanctuary
of the sciences, which he encouraged equally by his ex¬
ample and his bounty. This prince was versed in theo-
logy, jurisprudence, .philosophy, mathematics, and me¬
dicine. Bocace says, “that since the days of Solomon
we have not seen so wise a prince upon the throne.”
For a great part of his life he had no taste for poetry ;
he even despised it, as,in his opinion, unworthy of a man
of learning. A conversation which he had with Pe¬
trarch, however, undeceived him ; he retained this poet
at his court, and attempted himself to write some poems,
which are still extant. He was f orced to engage a lit¬
tle in war, for which he possessed no great talents ; al¬
luding to which, may be seen on his tomb a wolf and a
lamb drinking out of the same vessel. Philip'of Valois
refrained fiom giving battle in 1S3Q, by the repeated
advice which this prince gave him, who was a great
friend to France, both from inclination and interest. He
detested quarrels among Christian princes,.and had stu¬
died the science of astrulo^y, not so much to know the
course of the stars, as to learn by this chimerical science
the hidden things of futurity. He believed that he read
in the grand book of heaven a very great misfortune
which would befal France if Philip hazarded a battle
against the English.
Robert the First, called the Magnificent, duke of
Normandy, second son ef Richard II. succeeded in 1028
his brother Richard III. wdiom it is reported he po’son-
ed. He had early in his reign to suppress frequent re¬
bellions of several of the great vassals. He re-establish¬
ed in his estates Baudouin IV. count of Flanders, who
had been unjustly stript of his possessions by hisown son.
He forced Canute king of Denmark, who was also king
pf England, to divide his possessions with his cousins Al¬
fred and Edward. In the year 1035, he undertook
barefooted a journey to the Holy Land ; on his return
from which he died, being poisoned at Nice in Bithynia,
leaving as his successor William his natural son, after¬
wards king of England, whom he had caused before his
departure to be publicly acknowledged in an assembly
of the states of Normandy.
Robert, or Rupert, surnamed the Short, and the
Mild, elector Palatine, son of Robert the Niggardly,
was born in 1352, and elected emperor of Germany in
1400, after the deposition of the cruel Wenceslas. In or¬
der to gain the affection of the Germans, he wished to
restore the Milanese to the empire, which Wenceslas had
taken from it; but his attempts in this respect were
unsuccessful. His attachment to the anti-popeGVegovy Bobert,
XII. entirely alienated the affections of the German Robertson,
princes. To such a degree were they incensed against wyw
him, that they entered into a conspiracy to cut him off;
but his death, which happened on the 18th of May
1410, being then 58 years old, put a stop to their ma¬
chinations. Robert began to settle the sovereignty of
the German princes. The emperors had formerly re¬
tained in their own hands the power of life and death,
within the territories of a great many of the nobles ;
but he yielded them this right by his letters patent.-r-
The chief fault imputed to this prince was an excess of
lenity. But, if we consider the plots which he had to
detect, the conspiracies which he had to frustrate, the
secret and powerful enemies he had to deal with ; if we
inquire also into the commotions which the wicked ad¬
ministration of Wenceslas had excited, the irruptions
and devastations of plunderers and highway robbers,
which the nobles countenanced,and the distressed situa¬
tion in which he found Germany, we must without he¬
sitation conclude, that his lenity indicated his prudence,
in restoring by slow degrees the empire to its original
tranquillity. Robert had his virtues ; he loved his sub¬
jects, and governed them with wisdom. Possessed of
much political knowledge for the age in which he lived,
he wanted nothing but talents for war to make him an
accomplished prince. He was twice married. The name
and rank of his first wife is unknown ; he had by her a
son, who died before him. His second wife was Eliza¬
beth, daughter of Frederic burgrave of Nuremberg, b.y
whom he had five sons and three daughters. The three
daughters were, Margaret married to Charles duke of
Lo.rain; Agnes to Adolphus duke of Cleves ; Eliza-
beth to Frederic duke of Austria. His sons were, Louis
the first of the electoral branch, which became extinct
in 1559 ; John father of Christopher king of Denmark;
Frederick who died without issue; Otho count of Sint-
sheim ; lastly, Stephen, from whom descended the elec¬
tor, and the other counts palatine of the Rhine, who are
extant at this day.
Robert of Bavaria, prince palatine of the Rhine,
and duke of Cumberland, the son of Frederic, elector
palatine, by Elizabeth, daughter of James I. king of
England, distinguished himself by his valour as a gene¬
ral and admiral ; first in the Dutch, and then in the
English service. He was unsuccessful in the cause of
his uncle Charles I. against the parliament forces; but
under Charles II. he defeated the Dutch fleet, and was
made lord high admiral of England in 1673. This
prince was a lover of the sciences, and particularly skil¬
ful in chemistry. He died in 1682.
ROBERTSON, Dn William, one of the most ce¬
lebrated historians of his age, w as one of those great
characters, whose private lire, flowing in an even and
unvaried stream, can afford no important information to
the biographer, although his writings will be read to
the latest posterity with undiminisheu pleasure. He was
born at the manse of Borthwick in the year 1721. His
father was, at the time of his death, one of the minis¬
ters of the Old Grey Friars church in Edinburgh, which •
the Doctor came afterwards to supply. In 1713 he was
licensed preacher, and placed in the parish of GUds-
muir in 1744 ; whence, in 1758, he was translated to
Lady Yester's parish in Edinburgh. In 1761, on the
death of Principal Goldie, he was elected principal of
ROB
Robertson, the university of Edinburgh, and appointed one of the
ministers of the Old Grey Friars church. About this
period he received the degree of Doctor of Divinity,
and was appointed historiographer to his majesty for
Scotland, and one of his majesty’s chaplains for" that
kingdom.
We find it not easy to ascertain at what period were
first unfolded the great and singular talents which de¬
stined Dr Robertson to be one of the first writers that
rescued this island from the reproach of not having any
good historians. We are, however, assured, that be¬
fore the publication of any of his literary performances,
even from his first appearance in public life, bis abilities
had begun to attract the notice of observing men : and
to his more intimate friends he discovered marks of such
high-minded ambition, as, seconded by those abilities,
could not have failed to carry him to the first honours
of his profession, in whatever sphere he had been pla¬
ced, and whatever opposition lie might have had to
combat.
The first theatre that offered for the display of his
talents, was the General Assembly of the Church of
Scotland, ft is the annual meetings of this court that
produce to view men who would otherwise remain in
the deepest obscurity. There the humble pastor, whose
lot has been cast in the remotest corner of the High¬
land wilds, feels himself, for a time, on a footing of
equality with the first citizen in the kingdom : lie can
there dispute with him the prize of eloquence, the most
flattering distinction to a liberal mind; a distinction
which is naturally sought after with the greater eager¬
ness in that assembly, as the simple establishment of the
church of Scotland has rendered it theonlypre-eminence
to which the greatest part of its members can ever hope
to attain.
From the moment Dr Robertson first appeared in
this assembly, he became the object of universal atten-
I ion and applause. His speeches were marked with the
same manly and persuasive eloquence that distinguishes
his historical compositions ; and it was observed by all,
that while his young rivals in oratory contented them¬
selves with opening a cause, or delivering a studied ha¬
rangue, he showed equal ability to start objections, to
answer, or to reply; and that even his most unpremedi¬
tated effusions were not unadorned with those harmoni¬
ous and seemingly measured periods, which have been so
much admired in his works of labour and reflection. He
soon came to be considered as the ablest supporter of the
cause he chose to espouse, and was now the unrivalled
leader of one of the great parties which have long di¬
vided the church of which he was a member.
When we reflect upon this circumstance, and consider
howr much mankind are the same in every society, we
shall be the less surprised to find in the literary works
of Dr Robertson, an acquaintance with the human
heart, and a knowledge of the world, which we look
for in vain in other historians. The man who has spent
his life in the difficult task of conducting the delibera¬
tions of a popular assembly, in regulating the passions,
tee interests, the prejudices, of a numerous faction, has
advantages over the pedant, or mere man of letters,
which no ability, no study, no second-hand information,
can ever compensate.
The first work which extended the Doctor’s reputa¬
tion beyond the >73113 of the general assembly, was a
[ 95 ]
R 0 B
seimon preached at Edinburgh before the society fur Rotetsor;
propagating Christian knowledge, and afterwards pub- ' , *
hsbed ; the subject of which was, < The state of the
world at the appearance of Jesus- Christ.’ The inge¬
nuity witn which a number of detached circumstances
are there collected, and shown to tend to one single
point, may perhaps rival the art which is so much ad-
mii cd in tne bishop of Meaux’s celebrated Universal
History.
This sermon did great honour to the author; and it
is probably to the reputation he gained by it, that we
ought to attribute the unanimity with which he was
called to be one of the ministers of Edinburgh—an
event which happened not long after, viz. in the year
1758- In 1759, he published, in two volumes quarto,
' The History of Scotland, during the reigns of Queen
Mary and of King James VI. till his accession to the
Crown of England, with a Review of the Scots History
previous to that period.’ This work in its structure
is one of the most complete of all modern histories. It
is not a dry jejune narrative of events, destitute of orna¬
ment ; nor is it a mere frothy relation, all glow and co¬
louring. The historian discovers a sufficient store of
imagination to engage the reader’s attention, with a
due proportion of judgment t<ncheck the exuberance of
fancy. The arrangement of his work is admirable, and
his descriptions are animated, His style is copious,
nervous, and correct. He has displayed consummate
skill in rendering such passages of our history as are fa¬
miliar to our recollection agreeable and entertaining.
He has embellished old materials with all the elegance
of modern dress. He has very judiciously avoided too
circumstantial a detail of trite facts. His narratives are
succinct and spirited ; his reflections copious, frequent,
and generally pertinent. His sentiments respecting the
guilt of Mary have indeed been w'armly controverted by
Messrs Tytler, Stuart, and Whitaker; and, till the pub?
lication of Mr Laing’s Dissertation on the same subject,
(see Marv, life of) the general opinion seemed to, be,
that their victory was complete. That victory, how¬
ever, on the part of Whitaker, is sullied by the acri¬
mony with which he writes. Dr Robertson was no ran¬
corous or malignant enemy of the unfortunate queen.
While relating, what he doubtless believed, lie makes
every possible allowance for Mary from the circumstan¬
ces in which she was placed; and his history will I e
read with pleasure by candid men of all parties as long
as the language in which it is composed shall continue
to be understood.
In 1769, Dr Robertson published, in three volumes
quarto. The History of the Reign of the Emperor
Charles V. with a View of the Progress of Society in
Europe, from the Subversion of the Roman Empire
to the beginning of the l6th century.—The vast and
general importance of the period which this history
comprises, together with the reputation which our hi¬
storian had deservedly acquired, co-opcrated to raise
such high expectations in the public, that no work pc',-
haps was ever more impatiently wished for, or perused
with greater avidity. The first volume (which is a pre¬
liminary one, containing the progress of Society in Eu¬
rope, as mentioned in the title) is a very valuable part
of the work ; for it serves not only as a key to the
pages that follow, but may be considered as a general
introduction to the study of history in that period m
which
n o b
1Xl<i\)ertson. v/hich the several powers of Europe were formed into
one great political system, in which each took a station,
wherein it has since remained (till within a very few
years at least) with less alterations than could have been
"expected, after the shocks occasioned by so many inter¬
nal revolutions, and so many foreign wars. Ol the hi¬
story itself, it may be sufficient to observe, that it is
justly ranked among the capital pieces of historical ex-
"eellence. There is an elegance of expression, a depth
of discernment, and a correctness of judgment, which
do honour to the historian. The characters are inimi¬
tably penned. They are not contrasted by a studied
antithesis, but by an opposition which results from a
verv acute and penetrating insight into the real merits
of each character, fairly deduced from the several cir¬
cumstances of his conduct exemplified in the history.
For this work the author received L.4500 sterling.
In 1779, Dr Robertson published the History of
America, in two volumes quarto. This celebrated
work may be considered with great propriety as a se¬
quel to the preceding history. From the close of the
] 5th century we date the most splendid era in the an¬
nals of modern times. Discoveries were then made, the
infiuence-of which descended to posterity ; and events
happened that gave a new direction to the spirit of na¬
tions.
To the inhabitants of Europe, America was in every
respect a new world. There the face of the earth
changed its appearance. The plants and trees and
animals were strange ; and nature seemed no longer the
same. A continent opened that appeared to have re¬
cently come from the hands of the Creator, and which
showed lakes, rivers, and mountains, on a grander scale,
and the vegetable kingdom in greater magnificence,
than in the other quarters of the globe ; but the animal
tribes in a state of degradation, few in number, degene¬
rated in kind, imperfect and unfinished. The human
species in the earliest stage of its progress, vast and nu¬
merous nations in the rudest form of the savage state
which philosophers have contemplated, and two great
empires in the lowest degree of civilization which any
records have transmitted to our review, presented to
the philosophic eye at this period the most fruitful sub¬
ject of speculation that was to be found in the annals of
history.
The discovery of the New World, moreover, was
not only a curious spectacle to the philosopher, but, by
the change which it effected, an interesting spectacle to
the human race. When Columbus set sail for unknown
lands, he little expected that he was to make a revolu¬
tion in the system of human affairs, and to form the
destiny of Europe for ages to come. The importance
and celebrity therefore of the subject had attracted the
attention of philosophers and historians. Views and
sketches of the new world had been given by able wri¬
ters, and splendid portions of the American story had
been adorned with all the beauties of eloquence. But,
prior to the appearance of Dr Robertson’s history, no
author liad bestowed the mature and profound investi¬
gation w hich such a subject required, or had finished,
upon a regular plan, that complete narration and per¬
fect whole which it is the province of the historian
to transmit to posterity. And as the subject upon
which our author entered was grand, his execution was
masterly. The character of his former works was im-
li 0 B
mediately discerned in it. They had been read with Robertson
uncommon admiration. When the History of Scotland -y’**
was first published, and the author altogether unknown.
Lord Chesterfield pronounced it to be equal in elo¬
quence and beauty to the productions of Livy, the pu¬
rest and most classical of all the Roman historians. His
literary reputation was not confined to his own coun¬
try : the testimony of Europe was soon added to the
voice of Britain. It may be mentioned, indeed, as the
characteristic quality of our author’s manner, that he
possessed in no common degree that supported elevation
which is suitable to compositions of the higher class;
and, in his History of America, he displayed that hap¬
py union of strength and grace which becomes the ma¬
jesty of the historic muse. In the fourth book of his
first volume, which contains a description of America
when first discovered, and a philosophical inquiry into'
the manners and policy of its ancient inhabitants, he
displays, moreover, so much patient investigation and
sound philosophy, abounds in such beautiful or interest¬
ing description, and exhibits such variety and copious¬
ness of elegant writing, that future tiroes will probably
refer to it as that part of his works which gives the best
idea of his genius, and is the most finished of all his
productions.
In 1787 appeared a translation of the abbe Clavige-
ro’s History of Mexico; in which work the author
threw out various reflections, tending in several instan¬
ces to impeach the credit of Dr Robertson’s History of
America. This attack induced our learned historian to
revise his -work, and to inquire into the truth of the
charges brought against it by the historian of New
Spain : and this he appears to have done with a becom¬
ing attention to the importance of the facts that are
controverted, and to the common interests of truth.
The result he published in 1788, under the title of
Additions and Corrections to the former Editions of
Dr Robertson’s History of America.— In many of the
disputed passages, he fully answered the abbeClavigero
and vindicated himself: in others he candidly submit¬
ted to correction, and thus gave additional value to his
own work.
The literary labours of Dr Robertson appear to have
been terminated in 1791 by the publication of An Hi¬
storical Disquisition concerning the Knowledge which
the Ancients had of India, and the progress of Trade
with that country prior to the Discovery of the Passage
to it by the Cape of Good Hope ; w-ith an Appendix,
containing Observations on the Civil Polity, the Law s,
and Judicial Proceedings, the Arts, the Sciences, and
Religious Institutions of the Indians.—The perusal of
Major Rennel’s Memoir, for illustrating his map of Hin-
dostan, suggested to Dr Robertson the design of exa¬
mining more fully than he had done, in his History of
America, into the know-ledge which the ancients had
of India, and of considering what is certain, what is ob¬
scure, and w-hat is fabulous, in their accounts of that
remote country. Of his various performances, this is
not that of which the design is the most extensive, or
the execution the most elaborate ; but in this historical
disquisition we perceive the same patient assiduity in col¬
lecting his materials, the same discernment in arranging
them, the same perspicuity of narrative, and the same
power of illustration, which so eminently distinguish his
other writings, and which have long rendered them the
delight
C 90 ]
tobinia.
ROB
obeitson delight of the British reader at home and an honour to
British literature abroad.
A truly useful life Dr Robertson closed on the 11th
^ of June 179 h at Grange-House, near Edinburgh, after
a lingering illness, which he endured with exemplary
fortitude and resignation. It may be justly observed of
him, that no man lived more respected, or died more
sincerely lamented. Indefatigable in his literary re¬
searches, and possessing from nature a sound and vigo¬
rous understanding, he acquired a store of useful know¬
ledge, which afforded ample scope for the exertion of
his extraordinary abilities, and raised him to the most
distinguished eminence in the republic of letters. As a
minister of the gospel, he was a faithful pastor, and
justly merited the esteem and veneration of his dock.
In a word. Ire may be pronounced to be one of the most
perfect characters of the age; and his name will be a
lasting honour to the island that gave him birth. His
conversation was cheerful, entertaining and instinctive;
his manners affable, pleasing, and endearing.
ROBERVALLIAN lines, a name given to certain
lines used for the transformation of figures, so called
from Roberval the inventor of them.
1 hese lines are the boundaries of lines infinitely ex¬
tended in length, yet equal to other spaces which are
terminated on all sides.
It is observed by the abbot Gallois, that the method
of transforming figures which is explained at the end of
Roberval’s treatise of Indivisibles, was the same with
tnat afterwards published by James Gregory, in his
Geomctria Universalis, and also by Dr Barrow in his
Led tones G tome triox ; and that it appears from Torri¬
celli s letter, that Roberval was the inventor of this me¬
thod of transforming figures, by means of certain lines,
called by Torricelli, for that reason, Roberval Han lines.
The same author adds, that J. Gregory probably first
learned this method at Padua in the year 16()8 ; for the
method was known in Italy in ] 640', although the book
was not published till 1692.
David Gregory endeavoured to refute this account,
in vindication of his uncle James, whose answer appear¬
ed in the Phil. Trans, for 16y4, and the abbot rejoined
in the Memoirs of the French Academy for 1703; so
that it remains in a state of uncertainty to which of the
two we are to ascribe the invention,
ROBIGUb and ROBIGO, a Roman god and god¬
dess, who joined in the preservation of corn from blight.
Their festival was kept on the 25th of April.
ROBIN Hood. See Hood.
RoBiN-Redbreast. See Motacilla, Ornithology
Index.
ROBINIA, False Acacia ; a genus of plants be¬
longing to the diadelphia class ; and in tire natural me¬
thod ranking under the 32d order, Papilionacece. See Bo¬
tany Index. There are nine species included under this
genus, and the most remarkable are the caragnana and
ferox, the leaves of the former of which are conjugated,
and composed of a number of small follicles, of an oval
ngure, and ranged by pairs on one common stock. The
flowers are leguminous, and are clustered on a filament.
Every flower consists of a small bell-shaped petal cut
into four segments at the edge, the upper part being ra¬
ther the widest The keel is small, open, and rounded.
Ihe wings are large, oval, and a little raised. Within
are 10 stamina united at the base curved towards the
\ ol. XVIII. Part I.
[ 97 ] II 0 B
top, and rounded at the summit In the midst of a hobinia.
sheath, formed by the filaments of the stamina, the pi-
stil is perceivable, consisting of an oval germen, termi¬
nated by a kind of button. This gennen becomes af¬
terwards an oblong fiattish curved pod, containing four
or five seeds, of a size and shape irregular and unequal ;
yet in both respects somewhat resembling a lentil.
This tree grows naturally in the severe climates of
Northern Asia, in a sandy soil mixed with black light
earth. It is particularly found on the banks of great
rivers, as the Oby, Jenisei, Sec. It is very rarely met
with in the inhabited parts of the country, because
cattle are very fond of its leaves, and hogs of its roots ;
and it is so hardy, that the severest winters do not af¬
fect it. Gmelin found it in the neighbourhood of To¬
bolsk, buried under 15 feet of snow and ice, yet had
it not suffered the least damage. Its culture consists in.
being planted or sowed in a lightish sandy soil, which
must on no account have been lately manured. It
thrives best near a river, or on the edge of a brook or
spring ; but presently dies if planted in a marshy spot,
where the water stagnates. If it is planted on a rich
soil, well tilled, it will grow to the height of 20 feet,
and in a very few years will be as big as a common
birch tree.
In a very bad soil this tree degenerates, and becomes
a mere shrub: the leaves grow hard, and their fine
bright green colour is changed to a dull deep green.
The Tungusian Tartars, and the inhabitants of the
northern parts of Siberia, are very fond of the fruit of
this tree, it being almost the only sort of pulse they eat.
M. Strahlemberg, author of a well-esteemed description
of Siberia, assures us that this fruit is tolerably pleasant
food, and very nourishing. These pease are first infused
in boiling water, to take off’ a-certain acrid taste, and
are afterwards dressed like common pease or Windsor
beans ; and being ground into meal, pretty good cakes
are made of them. The leaves and tender shoots of this
tree make excellent fodder for several sorts of cattle.
The roots, being sweet and succulent, are very well
adapted to fattening hogs ; and the fruit is greedily eat¬
en by all sorts of poultry. After several experiments
somewhat similar to the methods used with anil and in¬
digo, a fine blue colour was procured from its leaves.
The smaller kind of this tree seems still better adapted
to answer this purpose. The striking elegance of its
foliage, joined to the pleasing yellow colour of its beau¬
tiful flowers, should, one would imagine, bring it into
request for forming nosegays, or for speedily making an
elegant hedge.
Besides the qualities above recited, it possesses the un¬
common advantage of growing exceedingly quick, and
of being easily transplanted. There are large planta¬
tions of it now in Sweden, Norway, Lapland, and Ice¬
land. Linnaeus assures us, that after the Vinus Jol. qui-
nis, erroneously called the cedar tree of Siberia, this
tree, of all that are found to be in Siberia, is most wor¬
thy of cultivation.
The robinia ferox is a beautiful hardy shrub, and,
on account of its robust strong prickles, might be in¬
troduced into this country as a hedge plant, with
much propriety. It resists the severest cold of the cli¬
mate of St Petersburg!), and perfects its seed in the im¬
perial garden there. It rises to the height of six or
eight feet; does not send out suckers from the root,
t N nw
K 0 B L 98 ] BOB
B«bima, nor ramble so much as to be with difficulty kept within
irbbins. bounds. Its flowers are yellow, and the general colour
of the plant a light pleasing green. A figure of it is
given in the Yloxi Rossica by Dr Pallas, who found it
in the southern districts, and sent the seeds to St Peters-
burgh, where it has prospered in a situation where few
plants can be made to live.
ROBINS, Benjamin, a most ingenious mathema¬
tician, was born at Bath in 1707- His parents were
Quakers of low condition, and consequently were un¬
able to have him much instructed in human learning.
But his own propensity to science having procured him
a recommendation to Dr Pemberton at London, by his
assistance, while he attained the sublimer parts of ma¬
thematical knowledge, he commenced teacher of the
mathematics. But the business of teaching, which re¬
quired confinement, not suiting his active disposition, he
gradually declined it, and engaged in business that re¬
quired more exercise. Hence he tried many laborious
experiments in gunnery, from the persuasion that the re¬
sistance of the air has a much greater influence on swift
projectiles than is generally imagined. Hence also he
was led to consider the mechanic arts that depend on
mathematical principles; as the construction of mills,
the building of bridges, the draining of fens, the ren¬
dering of rivers navigable, and the making of har¬
bours. Among other arts, fortification much engaged
his attention; and he met with opportunities of perfect¬
ing himself by viewing the principal strong places of
Flanders, in some tours he made abroad with persons of
distinction.
Upon his return from one of these excursions, he
found the learned amused with Dr Berkeley’s work,
intitled The Analyst, in which an attempt was made to
explode the method of fluxions. Mr Robins was there¬
fore advised to clear up this affair by giving a distinct
account of Sir Isaac Newton’s doctrines, in such a man¬
ner as to obviate all the objections that had been made
without naming them. Accordingly, he published, in
1735, A Discourse concerning the Nature and Certain¬
ty of Sir Isaac Newton’s Method of Fluxions: and
some exceptions being made to his manner of defending
Sir Isaac Newton* he afterwards w rote two or three ad¬
ditional discourses. In 1738, he defended the same great
philosopher against an objection contained in a note at
the end of a Latin piece, called Matho, sive Cosmo/heo-
ria puerilis; and the following year printed Remarks on
M. Euler’s Treatise of Motion, on Dr Smith’s System
ot Optics, and on Dr Jurin’s Discourse of distinct and
indistinct Vision annexed to Dr Smith’s work. In the
meanwhile, Mr Robins did not solely confine himself to
mathematical subjects : for in 1739 he published three
pamphlets on political affairs, without his name; when
two of them, relating to the convention and negocia-
tions with Spain, were so universally esteemed, as to oc¬
casion his being employed in a very honourable post ;
for on a committee being appointed to examine into the
past conduct of Sir Robert Walpole, he was chosen
their secretary.
In 1742, Mr Robins published a small treatise, inti¬
tled New Principles of Gunnery, containing the result
of many experiments ; when a Discourse being publish¬
ed in the Philosophical Transactions, in order to inva¬
lidate some of his opinions, he thought proper, in an
account he gave cf his book in the same Transactions,
to take notice of those experiments ; in consequence of Kobinf,
which, several of his Dissertations on the Resistance of
the Air were read, and the experiments exhibited before
the Royal Society, for which he was presented by that
honourable body with a gold medal.
In 1748, appeared Lord Anson’s Voyage round the
World, which, though Mr Walter’s name is in the title,
has been generally thought to be the work of Mr Robins.
Mr Walter, chaplain on board the Centurion, had
brought it down to his departure from Macao for Eng¬
land, when he proposed to print the work by subscription.
It was, however, it is said, thought proper, that an able
judge should review and correct it, and Mr Robins was
appointed; when, upon examination, it was resolved that
the whole should be written by Mr Robins, and that
what Mr Walter had done should only serve as mate¬
rials. Hence the introduction entire, and many disser¬
tations in the body of the work, it is said, were compc-
sed by him, without receiving the least assistance from
Mr Walter’s manuscript, which chiefly related to the
wind and the weather, the currents, courses, bearings,
distances, the qualities of the ground on which they
anchored, and such particulars as generally fill up a
sailor’s account. No production of this kind ever met
with a more favourable reception; four large impressions
were sold within a twelvemonth ; and it has been trans¬
lated into most of the languages of Europe. The fifth
edition, printed at London in 174q, was revised and
corrected by Mr Robins himself. It appears, however,
from the corrigenda and addenda to the 1st volume of
the Biographia Britannica, printed in the beginning of
the fourth volume of that work, that Mr Robins was
only consulted with respect to the disposition of the
drawings, and that he had left England before the book
was printed. Whether this be the fact, as it is asserted
to be by the widow of Mr Walter, it is not for us to
determine.
It is certain, however, that Mr Robins acquired the
fame, and he was soon after desired to compose an apo-
l°gy for the unfortunate affair at Prestonpans in Scot¬
land, which was prefixed as a preface to The Report
of the Proceedings of the Board of General Officers on
their Examination into the conduct of Lieutenant-
General Sir John Cope ; and this preface was esteemed
a masterpiece in its kind. He afterwards, through the
interest of Lord Anson, contributed to the improvements
made in the Royal Observatory at Greenwich. Having
thus established his reputation, hewas offered the choice
of two considerable employments ; either to go to Paris
as one of the commissaries for adjusting the limits of
Acadia, or to be engineer-general to the East India
Company. He chose the latter, and arrived in the East
Indies in 1750 ; but the climate not agreeing with his
constitution, he died there the year following.
ROBINSON, the most Rev. Sir Richard, arch¬
bishop of Armagh and Lord Rokeby, was immediately
descended from the Robinsons of Rokeby in the north
riding of the county of York, and was born in 1709.
He was educated at Westminster school, from whence
he was elected to Christ-Church, Oxford, in 172b.
After continuing his studies there the usual time. Doc¬
tor Blackburne, archbishop of York, appointed him his
chaplain, and collated him first to the rectory of Elton,
in the east riding of Yorkshire, and next to the pre¬
bend of Grindal, in the cathedral of York. In 1751,
he
K 0 B
ibinson. he attended the duke of Dorset^ lord-lieutenant of Ire-
1 ^ndj to that kingdom, as his first chaplain, and the
same year was promoted to the bishopric of Kilkla. A
family connection with the earl of Holdernesse, who
was secretary of state that year, with the earl of Sand¬
wich and other noblemen related to him, opened the
fairest prospects of attaining to the first dignity in the
Irish church. Accordingly in 1759 he was translated
to the united sees of Leighlin and Ferns, and in 17b 1 to
Kildare. The duke of Northumberland being appointed
to the lieutenancy of Ireland in 1765, he was advanced
to the primacy of Armagh, made lord-almoner, and vice-
chancellor of the university of Dublin. When Lord
Harcourt was lord-lieutenant of Ireland in 1777, the
king was pleased by privy-seal at St James’s, February
f th,and by patent at Dublin theAith of the same month,
to create him Baron Rokeby of Armagh, with remain¬
der to Matthew Robinson of West Layton, Esq.; and in
1783 he was appointed prelate to the most illustrious or¬
der of St Patrick. On the death of the duke of Rut¬
land lord-lieutenant of Ireland in 1787, he was nomina¬
ted one of the lords-justices of that kingdom. Sir Wil¬
liam Robinson, his brother, dying in 1785, the primate
succeeded to the title of bai-onet, and is the survivor in
the direct male line of the Robinsons of Rokeby, being
the 8th in descent from William of Kendal. His grace
died at Clifton near Bristol in the end of October 1794.
No primate ever sat in the see of Armagh who watch¬
ed more carefully over the interest of the church of Ire¬
land, as the statute-book evinces. The act of the 1 1th
and 12th of his present majesty, which secures to bishops
and ecclesiastical persons repayment by their successors of
expenditures in purchasing glebes and houses, or building
new houses, originated from this excellent man, and must
ever endear his name to the clergy. The other acts for
repairing churches, and facilitating the recovery of ec¬
clesiastical dues, were among the many happy exertions
of the primate.
But it was at Armagh, the ancient seat of the prima¬
cy, that he displayed a princely munificence. A very
elegant palace, 90 feet by 60, and 40 high, adorns that
to" n; it is light and pleasing, without the addition of
wings or lesser parts ; which too frequently wanting a
sufficient uniformity with tne body of tbe edifice, are un¬
connected witb it in effect, and divide the attention.
Large and ample offices are conveniently placed behind
e. plantation at a small distance. Around the palace is a
large lawn, which spreads on every side over the hills,
skirted by young plantations, in one of which is aterrace,
which commands a mostbeautiful view of cultivated hill
und dale ; this view from the palace is much improved
by the barracks, the school, and a new church at a dis¬
tance ; all which are so placed as to be exceedingly or-
'Siamental to the whole country.
The barracks were erected under the primate’s direc¬
tum, and form a large and handsome edifice. The
scnool is a building of considerable extent, and admi¬
rably adapted for the purpose; a more beautiful or
better contrived one is nowhere to be seen; there are
apartments tor a master, a school-room 56 feet by 28, a
huge dining room and spacious airy dormitories, with
every other necessary, and a spacious play-ground wall¬
ed in; the whole forming a handsome front: and at¬
tention being paid to the residence of the master (the
salary is L.400 a year), the school flourishes, and must
It 0 B
prove one of the greatest advantages to the count-y. RoMusen.
1 his edifice was built entirely at the primate’s expence.
The church is erected of white stone, and having a tall
spire, makes a very agreeable object, in a country*where
churches and spires do not abound. The primate built
three other churches, and made considerable reparations
to the cathedral; he w as also the means of erecting a
public infirmary, contributing amply to it himself: he
likewise constructed a public library at his own cost
endowed it, and gave it a large collection of books •
the room is 45 feet by 25, and 20 high, with a gallery
and apartments for the librarian. The town he orna¬
mented with a market-house and shambles, and was the
direct means, by giving leases upon that condition, of
almost new-building the whole place. He found it a
nest of mud cabins, and he left it a well built city of
stone and slate. These are noble and spirited works,
in which the primate expended not less than L.30,000.
Had this sum been laid out in improving a paternal
estate, even then they would be deserving great praise ;
but it is not for his posterity but the public good that
his grace was so munificent. A medal was struck by
the ingenious William Mossop of Dublin, which has on
one side the head of the primate, inscribed “ Richard
Robinson, Baron Rokeby, Lord Primate of all Ireland.”
And on the reverse, the south front of the observatory
at Armagh, erected by his grace, with this admirable
motto, “ 'i'he Heavens declare the glory of God.”
MDCCLXXXIX.
Robinson, llobcrt, a dissenting minister of consi¬
derable note, was born on the 8tli of October 1785 at
S waff ham in Norfolk. His father died when he was
young; and his maternal grandfather Robert Wilkin,
of Milden-Hall, Suffolk, gent, who had ever been dissa¬
tisfied with his daughter’s marriage, deprived him of
his maternal inheritance, cutting him off with half-a-
guinea. His uncle, however, who was a substantial
farmer, in some measure supplied their loss. He took
Mr Robinson home, and placed him under the Rev.
Joseph Brett, at Seaming school in Norfolk, with a
view to the ministry of the church of England ; where
he had for one of his school-fellows the lord chancellor
Thurlow. When about the age of 15 or 16, he im¬
bibed the notions of George Whitfield ; on which ac¬
count he was discarded by his uncle, and again exposed
to poverty and want. He first directed his thoughts
towards the ministry in the year 1754, and commenced
preacher in the following year at the age of 20; preach¬
ing his first sermon to a congregation of poor people at
Milden-hall. Pie continued for a year or two as one
of Mr Whitfield’s preachers, and during that period he
married. In the year 1758, however, he determined
to separate from the Methodists; after which he settled
at Norwich with a small congregation formed chiefly of
his methodistic friends, being at that time an Indepen¬
dent. In the year 1 759 he was invited to Cambridge,
and for two years preached on trial to a congregation
consisting of no more than 34 people, and so poor that
they could only raiseL.3, 6s. a quarterforhis subsistence.
In June ! 76 i he settled as their pastor, and was ordain¬
ed in the usual manner; at which time we are told he
exercised the office of a barber. In 1774, his congrega¬
tion had so much increased as to consist of 1000 souls,
including children and servants.
In Cambridge Mr Robinson’s talents soon attracted
N 2 notice
r 99 ]
ROB [ 100 ] ROC
Robinson, notice, and he quickly set up a Sunday evening lecture,
'rw which was well attended. His preaching was altoge¬
ther without notes; a method in which he was pecu¬
liarly happy: not by trusting to his memory entirely,
nor by working himself up to a degree of warmth and
passion, to which the preachers among whom he first
appeared commonly owe their ready utterance ; but by
thoroughly studying andmakinghimself perfectly master
of his subject, and a certain faculty of expression which
is never at a loss for suitable and proper words. In
short, his manner was admirably adapted to enlighten
the understanding, and to affect and reform the heart.
He had such a plainness of speech, such an easy and
apparent method in dividing a discourse, and such a fa¬
miliar way of reasoning, as discovered an heart filled
with the tenderest concern for the meanest of his hear¬
ers ; and yet there was a decency, propriety, and just¬
ness?, that the most judicious could not but approve.
Several gentlemen of the university, eminent for cha¬
racter and abilities, we are told, were his constant
hearers.
The circumstances which lost him his uncle’s patro¬
nage paved the wray for the future events of his life.
The incident which made him discard the common sen¬
timents on the subject of baptism, at once marked the
turn of his mind, and shows what apparently slight cau¬
ses frequently determine the lot and usefulness of our
lives. He was invited to the baptism of a child ; the
minister who was to perform the service keeping the
company in long expectation of his appearance, some
one suggested, that supposing the child were not bap¬
tized at all, he saw not how it could affect his happi¬
ness. Though the conversation was not pursued, the
hint struck Mr Robinson’s mind ; and he immediately
determined to read the New Testament with this parti¬
cular view, to examine what it said concerning the bap¬
tism of infants. He accordingly began with the Gos¬
pel of Matthew; and, in succession, perused the histori¬
cal and epistolary books; in expectation that he should
find in every following part what he had not met with
in the preceding parts of the sacred volume ; namely,
passages recommending and urging this rite. Rut ol>-
serving, on the whole,a total silence about it, he thought
it his duty to relinquish the practice, as without foun¬
dation in the rule of our faith ; which appeared to him
to speak only of the baptism of believers.
This change of his sentiments was more unfavourable
than the former alterations in his religious judgment
to his worldly views; and having married very early in
life from pure affection, he was involved in great diffi¬
culties for near 12 years after his settlement in Cam¬
bridge ; as, in that course of time, his family became
numerous, and the support of an aged mother, as well
as of a wife and ten children, depended upon him.
But unexpected supplies, from quarters of which he
v as ignorant, frequently relieved his necessities, and
confirmed his trust in Providence: yet the situation of
his family must, it is easy to conceive, have much affect¬
ed his mind. For he appears to have possessed great
tenderness and sensibility, and to have regarded with pe¬
culiar endearment his domestic connections.
It may be reckoned a circumstance worthy of men¬
tion, that the sphere of Mr Robinson’s ministry was the
same in which his great grandfather Mr Shelly, of Je¬
ms College, and vicar of All-Saints, had, with others.
diffused the principles of the Puritans, about the begin- RoWnsoq
ning of the 17th century. The reputation of the Dissen¬
ters in the university and neighbourhood had for almost Rochefort
a century been sinking into contempt, when Mr Robin- yW
son settled with the baptist church at Stone-Yard. His
abilities anti assiduity, however, raised their reputation.
The place in which his people assembled, which was at
first a barn, afterwards a stable and granary, and then a
meeting-house, but still a damp, dark, and ruinous place,
soon became too small for the audience ; and several of
the new auditors being men of fortune, they purchased
the site, and erected at their own expence a new house
in the year 1764.
His labours as a preacher were not limited to the
town of Cambridge; but soon after his coming there,
he set up several lectures in the adjacent villages. His
lectures were either annual or occasional, or stated on
fixed days. The usual time was half an hour after six
in the evening ; and sometimes at five in the morning ;
and now and then in the summer at two in the afternoon,
for the sake of those who came from a distance.
He died on the 9th of June 1790, at the house of
William Russel, Esq. of Showell Green near Birming¬
ham. He had laboured under an alarming disorder for
some time before; but on the Sunday preceding his
death he preached a charity sermon. On Monday he was
seized with a fit; on Tuesday he recovered and went to
bed tolerably well, but was found dead next morning.
The abilities of Mr Robinson w ere very considerable,
as appears from his numerous works ; and he possessed
the quality of expressing his thoughts in an easy and
a forcible manner. But he appears to have been of an
unsteady temper, and in our opinion, acquires but little
credit either from the frequency with w hich he chan¬
ged his religious creed (for wre have re; son to believe he
died a Socinian), or from the foolish and undeserved a-
crimony with which he tre .ted the church ol England.
His Plan of Lectures on the Principles of Nonconfor¬
mity, for the Instruction of Catechumens, is a piece of
the most unjust and illiberal abuse that we have ever
seen, and would have disgraced the most high-flying Pu¬
ritan of the last century.
Mr Robinson’s largest work, the History of Baptism
and of the Baptists, was published since his death, and
is written in the same style and with the same confidence
as his other works. Yet, as we have heard it remarked
by a learned and liberal professor of theology in the
church w hich he opposed, it is not a little remarkable
that there is in it no argument or fact against infant bap¬
tism which was not answered by Dr Wall nearly 100
years ago, of whose arguments Mr Robinson however
takes no notice.
ROBORANTS, in Tharmacy, medicines which
strengthen the parts, and give new vigour to the con¬
stitution.
ROCHEFORT, a handsome and considerable town
of France, in the department of Lowrer Charente. It
w as constructed by Louis XIV. and is built in the midst
of marshes expressly drained for that purpose; and time
evinced the utility of the project, for as a port it soon
became as necessary and important to the crown of
France as Brest or Toulon. It has a department of the
marine, and has large magazines of naval stores. There
is also one of the finest halls of arms in the kingdom,
and a great many w orkmen employed in making them;
there
ichefort,
ochefou-
cault.
ROC [ 101 ] HO C
there are aLo forges for anchors, and work-houses for
ship-carpenters, who are employed in every thing that
relates to the fitting out of ships that come within the
compass of their province. They likewise cast great
guns here ; and have artists, whose employment is
sculpture and painting. There are also stocks for build¬
ing men of war, rope-walks, magazines of provisions
and powder, a manufactory of sail-cloth, an hospital for
sailors, and proper places to clean the ships. Add to
these, the houses of the intendant, the square of the
capuch'ns, and the superb structure which contains
lodgings for 300 marine guards, where they are taught
the bii'incss and exercises belonging to seamen and offi¬
cers who go on board the men of war.
Besides the usual number of workmen which were
employed at Rochefort during the monarchy, which
amounted to about 900, there were about 600 galley
slaves, occupied in the most painful and laboiious
branches of service. The towrn is situated on the river
Charente, about five leagues from its mouth, and was
fortified by Louis XIV. at the time he constructed it;
but its situation is at so considerable a distance from the
sea, as to re nder it sufficiently secure from any attack,
and they have therefore closed up the battlements, and
neglected the fortifications. In 1800 it contained
about 1.5,000 inhabitants. The town is laid out with
great beauty and elegance. The streets are all very
broad and straight, extending through the whole place
from side to side ; but the buildings do not correspond
with them in this respect, as they are mostly low and
irregular. W. Long. 0. 54. N. Lat. 46. 3.
ROCHEFOUCAULT, Fhancis Earl of, de¬
scended of an illustrious family, next in dignity to that
of the sovereigns, was chamberlain to King Charles
VIII. and Louis XII. His character at court was ad¬
mired as obliging, generous, upright, and sincere. In
1 494 he stood godfather to Francis I. who, when he
came to the throne, continued to pay great respect to
that spiritual relation. He made him his chamberlain
in ordinary, and erected, in 1515, the barony of Rou-
chefoucault into an earldom ; and, in his writ of erec¬
tion, observes, that he did this in memory of the great,
honourable, highly useful, and commendable services
which the said Francis had done to his predecessors, to
the crown of France, and to himself. The earl of
Rochefoucault died in 1517, leaving behind him an
illustrious memory, and a character universally respect¬
ed. Since his time all the eldest sons of that family
have taken the name of Francis.
Rochefoucault, Francis duke de la, prince of
Marsillac, governor of Poitou, was born in l6“03.—He
was the son of Francis, the first duke of Rochefoucault,
and was distinguished equally by his courage and his
wit. These shining qualities endeared him to all the
nobility at court, wffio were ambitious of decorating
themselves at once with the laurels of Mars and of A-
polio. He wrote two excellent works ; the one a book
©f Maxims, which M. de Voltaire says has contributed
more than any thing else to form the taste of the
French nation; and the other, Memoirs of the Regency
of Queen Anne of Austria. It was partly at the in¬
stigation of the beautiful duchess de Longueville, to
whom he had been long attached, that the duke de
Rochefoucault engaged in. the civil w'ars, ifi which he
signalized himself particularly at the battle of St An*
toine. Beholding one day a portrait of this lady, *«-
wrote underneath it these two lines from the tragedy of
Alcvonee:
^ riucuciuu*
cault,
Rochelle.
“ Pour meriter son cceur, pour plaire a ses beaux ijenx,
“ J’aifait la guerre aux rois,je l’aurois fait aux dieuxP
Which may be thus rendered in English :
“ To gain her heart, and please her sparkling eyes,
“ Fvewar’dw'hhkingSjandwouldhavebravkl theskies.”
It is reported, that after his rupture with Madame
Longueville, he parodied the above verses thus :
“ Pour ce emir inconstant, quenfin je connois mieux,
“ Je fais la guerre aux rois,fen ai perdu les yeux.”
After the civil wars were ended, he thought of no¬
thing but enjoying the calm pleasures of friendship and
literature. His house became the rendezvous of every
person of genius in Paris and Versailles. Racine, Boi-
leau, Savigne, and La Fayette, found in his conversa¬
tion charms which they sought for in vain elsewhere.
He was not, however, w ith all his elegance and genius,
amernberof the French Academy. The necessity of ma¬
king a public speech on the day of his reception was the
only cause that he didnot claimadmittance. This noble¬
man, w ith all the courage he had displayed upon vari¬
ous critical occasions, and with his superiority of birth
and understanding over the common run of men, did
not think himself capable effacing an audience to ut¬
ter only four lines in public, without being out of
countenance. He died at Paris in 1680, aged 68,
leaving behindhim a character which hasbeen variously
drawn by those who duiing his life were proud of his
friendship. That he was well acquainted with human
na;u e is certain; and his merit in that respect was fully
admitted by Swift, who was himself not easily imposed
upon by the artificial disguises of the hypocrite.
ROcHELLE, a celebrated city of France, in the
department of Low-er Charente, with a very commodi¬
ous and safe harbour, which, though it does not admit
vessels of any considerable burden, is yetwell calculated
for hade. “ It may be divided (says Mr Wraxal) into
three parts ; the bason, which is the innermost of these,
is only a quarter of a mile in circumference ; and at the
entrance are two very noble Gothic towers, called
the Tour de St Nicholas, and the Tour de la Chaine.
They are now in a state of decay, but were anciently
designed to protect the town and harbour. Without
these tow'ers is the Avant Port, extending more than a
league, and bounded by two points of land to the north
and south. Beyond all is the road where the largest
shipsusually anchor, protectedfrom the south-west winds
by the islands of Re, Oleron, and Aix." The cele¬
brated mound erected by Richlieu extends from side to
side acrossthe whole harbour, nearly an English mile in
length, and when the sea retires is still visible. “ I
walked out upon it (^ays Mr Wraxal) above 300 feet.
Its breadth is at this time more than 150 feet, and it
widens continually towards the base. No effort of art
or power can possibly impress the mind wTiih so vast and
sublime an idea of the genius of Richlieu, as does this
bulwark against the sea. While I stood upon it, in the
middle of the port, between the waves which rolled on
either side, and contemplated its extent and strength, I
■was almost inclined to suppose this astonishing work to
.vOHAj
Ai,
o
-Z-.
-r'
11 o C [ 102 ] HOC
V n lielle, ije superior ta human power, and the production rather
3 tockcster. cpa t\eit v than of a mortal. A small opening of about
gOO feet was left by Pompey Targon, the architect who
constructed it, to give entrance to vessels, and shut up
by chains fixed across it. A tower was likewise erect¬
ed at each end, no remains of which are now to be
seen. Neither the duke of Buckingham, nor the earl
of Lindsey, who were successively sent fromEngland to
the aid of the besieged by Charles the First, dared to
attack this formidable barrier: they retired, and left
Rochelle to its fate. In all probability, a thousand
years, aided by storms and all the fury of the sea, will
make little or no impression on this mound, which is
designed to endure as long as the fame of the cardinal,
its author.”
Before the revolution, Rochelle was a bishop’s see,
and contained a college of humanities, an academy, a
school for medicine, anatomy, and botany, and a mint.
It cannot lay claim to any remote antiquity, being
merely a little collection of houses on the shore, inha¬
bited by fishermen, when William IX. last count of
Poictou, rendered himself master of it in 1139- From
this prince it descended to his only daughter Eleanor,
afterwards queen of Henry II. of England; and her
charter incorporating the town is still preserved in the
registers of the city. In the year 1540, Rochelle was
the grand asylum of the Protestants; and the massacre
at Paris was soon followed by the siege of Rochelle,
which began in November 1 ‘72, and was raised in
June 1573; but in lfii2c', after a most obstinate re¬
sistance, and a siege of 13 months, it surrendered to
the mercy of Louis XI IT. At the beginning of the
first siege the number of inhabitants in the city amount¬
ed to 72,000; in the second they diminished to .>,00 >;
and they were, when Mr Wraxal was there, between
3 7 and 18,000, of which scarce 2000 were Huguenots.
The houses of this city are fine, and supported with
piazzas, under which persons may walk in all weathers ;
and the streets in general are as straight as a line.
There are several handsome churches, and other struc¬
tures, besides a remarkable pump in the square of' Dau-
phiny, which throws out the water through several
pipes. There are no remains of the old fortifications,
except on the side of the harbour, where there are bul¬
warks and strong towers to defend the entrance. The
new fortifications are in the manner of Vauban. Be¬
fore Canada was ceded to England, and New Orleans
to Spain, the trade of Rochelle was very lucrative. It
revived about the year 1773, and, beside that to the
coast of Guinea and the East Indies, the inhabitants
carried on a considerable trade in wines, brandy, salt,
paper, linen cloth, and serge. It is seated on ths "ocean,
in W. Long. 1. 4. N. Lat. 46. Q.
ROCHESTER, a city of Kent, in England, is
situated on the Medway, seven miles and a half north
of Maidstone, and 30 from London. It appears to
have been one of the Roman stations, from the bricks
in the walls, as well as the Roman coins that have been
found about it. It has three parish churches built with
stone and Hints, besides the cathedral, which is but a
mean structure. This little city, which w as made a bi¬
shop’s see by King Ethelbert, anno 604, has met with
many misfortunes. In 676, it was sacked by Eldred
king of Mercia; in S39 and 885, besieged by the
Danes, but rescued by King Alfred. About 100 years
after, it was besieged by King Ethelred, and forced to Rochester,
pay L.100. Anno 999 it was taken and plundered by
the Danes. Anno 1088 it was besieged and .taken by
William Rufus. In King John’s time it was taken
from the Barons, after three months siege; and the
very next year, viz. 1256, its castle, founded by Wil-
Pam the Conqueror, was stormed and taken by several
of the Barons, under the French king’s son. In the
reign of Henry III. it was besieged by Simon Mont-
ford, who burnt its then wooden bridge and tower, and
spoiled the church and priory, and then marched off.
This city has also been several times destroyed by fire,
viz. in 1130, on June 3. in 1137j and in 1177 ; after
which it is said to have continued desolate till 1225,
when it was repaired, ditched, and walled round. In
the Saxon heptarchy there were three mints in Roches¬
ter. tw'o for the king and one for the bishop. In 1281,
its old wooden bridge was carried off by the ice. in a
sudden thaw after a frost which had made the Medway
passable on foot. Another was built in the reign of
Richard II. but pulled down again, on the rumour of
an invasion from France. It was afterwards restored,
but so often subject to expensive repairs, by reason of
the rapid course of the river under it, as well as the
great breadth and depth of it, that in the reign of Ed-
ward III. it was resolved to build a new bridge of stone;
and the same was begun, and in a manner completed,
at the expence of Sir John Cobham and Sir Robert
Knolies, Edward III.'s generals, out of the spoils they
had taken in France. It has 21 arches. The town
is governed by a mayor, recorder, t2 aldermen, 12
common-councilmen, a town-clerk, three sevjeants at
mace, and a water-bailiff. To its cathedral belong a
dean and six prebendaries. Gundulph’s tower st nds
on the north side of the cathedral, and is supposed
to have been built by the bThop, as a place of securi¬
ty for the treasures and archives of that church and
see. Some suppose it to have been intended for a
bell tower, and others for an ecclesiastical prison ; but
whatever might be its destination, its machicola’ ions, its
loop-hole windows, and the thickness of Ts walls, show
that strength and defence were considered as necessary.
This tower was 60 feet high, but some part has lately
fallen down ; the walls are six feet thick, and contain
within them an area of 20 feet square • it was divided
into five floors or stores of unequal height, and had a
communication with the upper part of the church, by
means of an arch or bridge, the steps of which are still
visible. It is supposed to have been erected after the
cathedral was built. For the maintenance of Us bridge,
certain lands are tied down by parliament, to which it
has sent members from the first. The town-house,
built in the year 1687, for the courts, assizes, and ses¬
sions, and the charity-school, are two of the best pub¬
lic buildings here.—A mathematical school was founded
here, and an alms-house fur lodging six poor travellers
every night, and allowing them 4d. in the mo ning
when they depart, except persons cont igiousiy diseased,
rogues, and proc'ors. In the summer here are always
six or eight lodgers, who are admitted by tickets from
tne mayor. The Roman Watling-street runs through
this town from Shooters-El ill to Dover. Tee mayor
and citizens hold what is called an. admiralty- oiirt once
a-year for tegulating the oyster-fishery >n the creeks and
branches of the Medway that are w ithin their jurisdic¬
tion.
ROC [ 103 ] ROC
,chestcr, tion, and fi r prosecuting the cable-hangers, as they are
|| ca'led, who dredge and fish for oysters without being
ockft free, by having served seven years apprenticeship to a
fisherman who is free of the fishery. Every licensed
dredger pays 6s. 8d. a-year to the support of the courts,
and the fishery is now in a flourishing way. Part of the
eastle is kept in repair, and is used as a magazine, whe; e
a party of soldiers do constant duty. The bridge was re¬
paired in 1744-, andpallisadoed withnewiron rails. In
1801 Rochester contained 6817 inhabitants, and in
1811,9070. It consists of only one principal street,
which is wide, and paved with flints. The houses are
generally well built with brick, and inhabited by
tradesmen and inn-keepers. It has also four narrow
streets ; but no sort of manufactory is carried on here.
Stroud is at the west end of this place, and Chatham
at the east. It is 27 miles north-west by west of Can¬
terbury, and 30 south-east by east of London. Long.
0. 3(1 E. Lat. 61. 23. N.
Rochester, Earl of. See Wilmot.
ROCK, a large mass of stone. See Geology.
Rock., a species of Vulture. See Ornithology
Index.
Rock Basons are cavities or artificial basons of diffe¬
rent sizes, from six feet to a few inches diameter, cut
in the surface of the rocks for the purpose, as is sup¬
posed, of collecting the dew and rain pure as it de¬
scended from the heavens, for the me of ablutions and
purifications, prescribed in the druidical religion; these,
especially the dew, being deemed the purest of all
fluids. There are two sorts of these basons, one with
lips or communications between the different basons,
the other simple cavities. The lips as low as the bot¬
tom of the basons, which are horizontal, and commu¬
nicate with one somewhat lower, so contrived that the
contents fell by a gradual descentthroughasuccessionof
basons either to the ground, or into a vessel set to re¬
ceive it. The basons without lips might be intended
for leservoirs to preserve the rain or dew in its original
purity without touching any other vessel, and was per¬
haps used for the druid to drink, or wash his hands,
previous to officiating at any high ceremony, or else to
mix with their misletoe.
Some of these basons are so formed as to receive the
head and part of the human body; one of this kind is
found on a rock called King Arthur’s Bed, in the parish
of North Hall in Cornwall, where are also others, call¬
ed by the country people Arthur’s troughs, in which
they say he used to feed his dogs.
RocK-Cryslal, in Natural History, otherwise called
sprig-crystal, a name given to quartz or siliceous stones,
when pure and regularly crystallized. See Minera¬
logy Index.
Rock Salt. See Salt, Geology.
Rock Oil. See Petroleum, Mineralogy Index.
Rock Fish. See Gobius, Ichthyology Index.
ROCKET, an artificial fire-work, consisting of a
cylindrical case of paper, filled with a composition of
certain combustible ingredients; which, being tied to a
stick, mounts into the air, and then bursts. See Pyko- -
TECHNY.
Theory of the Flight of Sky-RocKETS. Mariotte
takes the rise of rockets to be owing to the impulse or
resistance of the air against the flame. Dr Desaguliers
accounts for it otherwise.
Conceive the rocket to have no vent at the choak. Rocket,
and to be set on fire in the conical bore ; the conse- Roeking-
quence will be, either that the rocket would burst in the , bam‘
weakest place, or, if all its parts were equally strong, 'J 11 ^
and able to sustain the impulse of the flame, the rocket
would burn out immoveable. Now, as the force of
the flame is equable, suppose its action downwards, or
that upwards, sufficient to lift 40 pounds. As these
forces are equal, but their directions contrary, they will
destroy each other’s action.
Imagine then the rocket opened at the choak ; by
this means the action of the flame downwards is taken
away, and there remains a force equal to 40 pounds
acting upwards, to carry up the rocket, and the stick it
is tied to. Accordingly, we find that if the composition
of the rocket be very weak, so as not to give an impulse
greater than the weight of’ the rocket and stick, it does
not rise at all; or if the composition be slow, so that a
small part of it only kindles at first, the rocket will not
rise.
The stick serves to keep it perpendicular; for if the
rocket shouldbegin to stumble, moving round a point in
the choak, as being the common centre of gravity of
rocket and stick, there would be so muchfriction against
the air by the stick between the centre and the point,
and the point would beat against the air with so much
velocity, that the friction of the medium would restore
it to its perpendicularity.
When the composition is burnt out, and the impulse
upwards has ceased, the common centre of gravity is
brought lower towards the middle of the stick; by
which means the velocity of the point of the stick is de¬
creased, and that of the point of the rocket increased ; :
so that the whole will tumble down, wdth the rocket-
end foremost.
All the Avhile the rocket burns, the common centre
of gravity is shifting and getting downwards, and still
the faster and the lower as the stick is the lighter, so
that it sometimes begins to tumble before it be burnt
out; but when the stick is a little too heavy, the
weight of the rocket bearing a less proportion to that of
the slick, the common centre of gravity will not get so
low but that the rocket will rise straight, though not so *
fast.
Rocket. See Brassica, Botany Index.
ROCKINGHAM, a town in Northamptonshire, in
England, 87 miles from London, stands on the river
Welland. It has a charity school, a market on Thurs¬
day, and a fair on Sep. 8. for five clays. Its forest was
reckoned ene of the largest and richest of the kingdom,
in which William the Conqueror built a castle; it ex¬
tended, in the time of the ancient Britons, almost from,
the Welland to the Nen, and was noted formerly for
iron works, great quantities of flags, i. e. the refuse of
the iron ore, being met with in the adjacent fields. It
extended, according to a survey in 1641, near 14 miles
in length, from the west end of Middleton-Woods to
the town of Mansford, and five miles in breadth, from
Brigstock to the Welland; but is now dismembered into
parcels, by the interposition of fields and towns, and
is divided into three bailiwicks. In several of its woods
a great quantity of charcoal is made of the tops of
trees, of which many waggon-loads are sent every year
to Peterborough. There is a spacious plain in it called
Buckinghamshire, which is a common to the four towns
HOD [ 104 ] ROD
of CoUinjrharri, RockinjiTiam, Crrby, ar;d Cretton.
William Rufus called a council here of the great
merTof the kingd -m. In 1811 the population was 230.
w. Long. 0. 46. N. Lat. 52. 32.
ROCKING STONES. See Rockixg-Stoxks.
hOCKOMBOL.E. See Allii m.
ROD, aland measure of l6 feet and a half; the same
v i h perch and pole.
Black Rod. See Usher of the Black Rod.
Fishing Rod, a long taper rod or wand, to which the
line is fastened for angling. See I*jshixg-Rod.
RODNEY, George Fridges, Lord R< d ey. was
born in the year 1718. Ot the place of his birth and
the rank of his ancestors we have not been able to pro¬
cure any well authenticated account. His father was a
naval officer; and commanding, at the t:me of his son’s
birth, the yacht in which the king, attended by the
duke of Chandois, w7as passing to or from Hanover,
he asked and obtained leave to have the honour of
calling his infant son George Bridges. The royal and
noble godfathers advised Captain Rodney to educate his
boy for his own profession, promising, as we have been
told, to promote him as rapidly as the merit he should
display and the regulations of the navy wrould per¬
mit.
Of young Rodney’s early exertions in the service of
his country, nothing, however, is known to the writer
of this abstract, i or, indeed, any thing of sufficient im¬
portance to be inserted in articles so circumscribed as all
our biographical sketches must he, till 1751, w hen w e
find him, in the rank of a commodore, sent out to
make accurate discoveries respec ting an island which
was supposed to lie about 50° N, L. and abcut 300
leagues W. of England : but he returned w ithout ha¬
ving seen any such island as that w hich he w as appoint-
ted to survey. In the war which soon followed this
voyage of dneovery he w as promoted to the rank of a
rear-admiral, and Was employed to bombard Havre-de-
Grace ; which in 1759 and 1760 he considerably dama¬
ged, together with some shipping. In 1 761 he wras sent
on an expedition against Martinico, w hich w as reduced
in the beginning of the year 1?62, and about the same
time St Lucia surrendered to Captain Harvey. Roth
these islands w ere restored to the French at the peace of
1763.
In rewrard for his services, he was created a knight
of the Bath; hut being inattentive, as many seamen
are, to the rules of economy, his circumstances became so
embarrassed that he was obliged to fly from his country,
w ith very slight hopes of ever being able to return. He
was in France w hen the ill advistd policy of that court
made them take a decided part w'ith America against
Great Britain ; and it is said that some men in power,
no strangers to the desperate state of Sir George’s af¬
fairs, offered him a high command in the French navy,
if he would cany arms against his own country. This
offer he rejected with becoming indignation. Soon af¬
ter this gallant behaviour, the duke de Chartres, af¬
terwards the infamous Orleans, told Sir George that he
was to have a command in the fleet which was to be op¬
posed to that under the command of his countrvman
Mr Keppel; and with an insulting air asked him what
lie thought would be the consequence of their meeting ?
“ That my countryman wid carry your Highness with
him to le ra English,” was the high-spirited reply —
When the divisions, which the mutual recriminations of Rodne
Admiral Keppe! and Sir Hugh Palliser excited in the Wy-
British navy, made it difficult for the ministry to pio-
cure experienced, and at the same time popular, com¬
manders for their fleets, I ord Sandwich wrote to Sir
George Bridges Rodney, offering him a principal com¬
mand ; but the difficulty wras for the veteran to find mo¬
ney to pay h:s accounts in France, so that he might be
permitted to leave that kingdom. The money, it has
been repeatedly affirmed, was advanced to him by the
courtiers wdiose offer he had before indignantly rejected.
He arrived therefore in England, and was again em¬
ployed in the service of his country. His first exploit
after his appointment was in January 1780, when he
took I y Spanish transports bound from Cadiz to Bilboa,
together with a 64 gun ship and 5 frigates, their con¬
voy. On the 16th of the same month he fell in with
the Spanish fleet, consisting of 11 sail of the line, under
the command of Don Juan de Langara ; of which one
was blown up during the engagement, five were taken
and carried into Gibraltar, among which was the ad¬
miral’s ship, and the rest were muchshattered. In April
the same year, he fell in with the French fleet, under the
command of Admiral Guichen, at Martinico, whom he
obliged to fight, and whom he completely beat; though
from the shattered state of his own fleet, and the un¬
willingness of the enemy to risk another action, he took
none of their ships. The successful efforts of our gallant
admiral during the year 1780 were generally applaud¬
ed through the naiion. He received the thanks of
both Houses of Parliament, and addresses of thanks from
various parts of Great Britain, and the islands to which
his victories were more particularly se. viceable. In De¬
cember the same year, he made an a*tempt, together
wbth General Vaughan, on St Vincent's, but failed. In
1781, he continued his exertions, w ith much success,
in defending the West India Islands ; and, along with
the above-named general, he conquered St Eusiatius; @n
which occasion his conduct to the inhabitants has been
much, though perhaps unjustly, censured. The island
was certainly a nest of contraband traders.
On the 12th of Apr.l 1782, he came to a close action
w ith the French fleet under Count de Grasse ; during
which he sunk one ship and took five, of which the ad¬
miral’s ship, the Ville de Paris, was one. The follow¬
ing year brought peace; but, as a reward fer his nume¬
rous services, he had a grant of 20001. a-year for him¬
self and his two successors. He had long before been
created a baronet, was rear-admiral of Great Britain,
and at length was justly promoted to the peerage, l>v the
title of Baron Rodney of Stoke, Somersetshire, and made
vice-admiral of Great Britain. He was at one time
also governor of Greenwich Hospital.
Lord Rodney had been twice married; first to the
sister of the earl of Northampton, and secondly to the
daughter of John Clies, Esq. with whom he did not re¬
side for seveial years before his death, which happened
on the 24th of May ] 792. He was succeeded in title
and estates by his son George, w ho married in 1781
Martha, daughter of the Right Hon. Alderman Plarley,
by whom he has issue.
Of the private life of Lord Rodney we know hut
little. His attention to the wants of the seamen, and
the warrant officers serving under him, indicated that
humanity which is always allied to true courage. He
has
lurtney.
Hoe.
R OE [ 105 ] ROE
has often, from the number of dishes which his rank
brought to his table, selected something very plain for
himself, and sent the rest to the midshipmen’s mess.—
His public transactions will transmit his name with ho¬
nour to posterity ; his bravery was unquestionable, and
his success has been seldom equalled. It has, indeed,
been very generally said, that his skill in naval tactics
was not great, and that he was indebted to the superior
abilities of Capt. Young and Sir Charles Douglas for
the manoeuvres by which he was so successful against
Langara and De Grasse. But, supposing this to be
true, it detracts not from his merit. A weak or foolish
commander could not always make choice of the ablest
officers for his first captains, nor would such a man be
guided by their advice.
Whatever was Lord Rodney’s skill in the science of
naval war, or however much he may have been behol¬
den to the councils of others, he certainly possessed him¬
self the distinguished merit of indefatigable exertion; for
he never omitted any thing within the compass of his
power to bring the enemy to action. He therefore un¬
questionably deserves the respect and the gratitude of his
country. In the year 1783 the House of Assembly in
Jamaica voted I,. 1000 towards erecting a marble statue
to him, as a mark of their gratitude and veneration for
his gallant services, so timely and gloriously performed
for the salvation of that island in particular, as well as
the whole of the British West India islands and trade in
general. A pillar was also erected to the memory of
this gallant officer, upon the Brythen in Shropshire.
But whatever were the talents of Lord Rodney as a
naval commander, there is a more splendid part of his
character which it tvould be improper to omit. Before
his success against the Spanish admiral Don Langara,
the English prisoners in Spain w ere treated with the
greatest inhumanity, and it required more than ordinary
strength of constitution to exist for any length of time
in a Spanish prison. When the Spanish admiral fell in¬
to the bands of Lord Rodney, both himself, his officers,
and men, expected to meet with the same treatment they
had been accustomed to give ; but they were astonished
to find in Lord Rodney a man who felt for their misfor¬
tunes, relieved their wants, and who, by his polite be¬
haviour to his prisoners, made a powerful impression on
the minds of the Spaniards, which could not fail to pro¬
cure a mitigation of the sufferings of English prisoners
in Spain. He represented the miserable condition of his
countrymen in the enemy’s country, and obtained a pro¬
mise that Englishmen, when prisoners in Spain, should
be made as comfortable as their situation would permit.
This was doing his country a service, which will make
him stand as high in the estimation of good men as the
most astonishing display of courage, which is not always
met with in a cultivated mind.
ROE, the seed or spawn of fish. That of the male
fishes is usually distinguished by the name of soft roe,
or milt; and that of the female, hard roe, or spawn.
So inconceivably numerous are these ovula or small eggs,
that M. Petit found 342,244 of them in a carp of 18
inches ; but M. Lieuwenhoek found in a carp no more
than 211,629- This last gentleman observes, that there
are fom times this number in a cod; and that a com¬
mon one contains 9,344,1000 eggs.
Roe, in Zoology. See Cervus, Mammalia /«-
(Jex.
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
ROEBUCK, John, M. D. was born at Sheffield in
^ orkshire, in the year 1718. His father was a manu¬
facturer of Sheffield goods, and by his ability and indus¬
try procured a considerable fortune. He intended John
to follow his own lucrative employment; but he was
powerfully attached to other pursuits, and his father did
not discourage his rising genius, but gave him a liberal
education.
When done w ith the school, he was put under the
tuition of Dr Doddridge, by whose instructions he was
rapidly improved in many branches of useful knowdcdge.
During his residence in the Doctor’s academy at North¬
ampton, he became intimately acquainted with Mr
Dyson and Dr Akenside, whose friendship lasted to the
close of life.
Having completed his studies at the academy, he wrs
afterwards sent to the university of Edinburgh, where
he studied medicine and chemistry in particular, which
then began to attract some attention in Scotland. He
was much distinguished among his fellow students by his
logical and metaphj'sical acuteness, and by great inge¬
nuity in his arguments. At Edinburgh he likewise
formed an acquaintance with Mr Hume, Dr Robertson,
and other literary characters.
Having completed his medical studies at Edinburgh,
and wholly attached to the practice of physic, he spent
some time at the university of Leyden, where he obtain¬
ed a degree in medicine. Ele received his diploma in
February 1743, to which were affixed the respectable
names of Muschenbroek, Osterdyk, Van Royen, Albinus,
Gaubius, &c. He afterwards settled as a physician at
Birmingham, a place w Inch then began to make a ra¬
pid progress in arts, manufactures, and population, and
where a favourable opening was presented to him by
the death of an aged physician. In this capacity he le d
every thing to favour his success, such as his education,
talents, and interesting manners, and he accordingly
met with encouragement more rapid and extensive than
his expectations had presaged. But it was soon found
that his industry and studies were turned to other sub¬
jects than those of his profession, and in a particular
manner to that of chemistry, the u'ility of which he
was anxious to extend to the arts and manufactures. In
the prosecution of this idea, he fitted up a laboratory in
his own house, where every moment of his time wras
spent, not necessarily devoted to the duties of his pro¬
fession. There he carried on various chemical processes
of great importance, and laid the foundation of Irs fu¬
ture projects.
In this manner he wTas led to the discovery of certain
improved methods of refining gold and silver, and an in¬
genious method of collecting the smaller particles of
these metals, which manufacturers had formerly lost.
He also discovered improved methods of making subli¬
mate hartshorn, and many other articles of equal impor¬
tance. Much of his time being still employed in the
duties of his profession, he found it necessary to connect
himself with some confidential person, and who might
be qualified to assist him with the important establish¬
ments he had in view. He therefore made choice of
Mr Samuel Garbet of Birmingham, a gentleman whose
activity, abilities, and enterprising spirit, urell qualified
himforbearinghis part in their subsequent undertakings.
In the year 1747, Dr Roebuck married Miss Ann
Roe of Sheffield, a lady of a great and generous spirit
* . 0 well
Roebuck.
ROE [ 106 ] ROE
Roebuck. well qualified to support liim under the many disappoint-
'—ments in businesswhich he afterwards experienced. His
chemical studies led him to the discovery of many
things both of a public and private advantage.
The extensive use of sulphuric acid in chemistry led
many to various methods ot obtaining it, and Dr Roe¬
buck attempted to prepare it in such a manner as to re¬
duce the price, for which purpose he substituted leaden
vessels in the roc m of glass ; and he had the good for¬
tune to effect his benevolent design. He established a
manufacture of this useful articleat Prestonpans in Scot-
In,d, in the year 1749, which was opposed by Dr
Ward, but without success, as Roebuck’s discovery did
not come whhin Dr Ward’s patent. By concealment
and secrecy Dr Roebuck and his partner preserved the
advantages of their industry and ingenuity for a number
of years, supplying the public with sulphuric acid at a
much cheaper rate than had been formerly done.
He found it expedient to give up his medical profes¬
sion altogether, and he resided in Scotland during the
greater part of the year. He made some discoveries in
the smelting of iron-stone, greatly facilitating that pro¬
cess by using pit coal instead of charcoal. He and his
partner therefore projected a very extensivemanuf'actoi y
of iron, for which they soon procured a sufficient capi¬
tal, as their friends had much confidence in their inte¬
grity and abilities. Dr Roebuck at length made choice
of a spot on the banks of the river Can on as the most
advantageous situation for the establishment of their iron
manufactory, abundance of iron-stone, lime-stone, and
coal, being found in its immediate vicinity. The
preparations for this establishment were finished in the
end of the year 1759, and the first furnace was blown
on the 1st of January 17f)0, after which a second was
in a short time erected.
These works turned the attention of Dr Roebuck to
the state of coal in the neighbourhood of that place, and
to the means of procuring the extraordinary supplies of
it which the iron-works might require in future. He
therefore became lessee of the extensive coal and salt
works at Borrowstownness, the property of the duke of
Hamilton, in which he sunk, in the course of a few
years, not only his own, and a considerable part of his
wife’s fortune, but the regular profits of his more suc¬
cessful works; andwhat distressed him above every tiring
else, the great sums of money which he borrowed from
his relations and friends, without the prospect of ever be¬
ing able to repay them. This ruinous adventure cut off
for ever the flattering prospects of an independent for¬
tune which his family once had; and he drew from his
colliery only a moderate annual support, owing to the
indulgence of his creditors. When he died, his widow
wras left without any provision for her immediate or fu¬
ture support, and without the smallest advantage from
the extraordinary exertions and meritorious industry of
her husband.
Some years before his death. Dr Roebuck was seized
with a disorder that required a dangerous operation, and
which he bore with his usual spirit and resolution. He
was restored to a considerable share of his wonted health
and activity ; but its effects never wholly left h:m. He
visited his works till within a few weeks of his decease,
in order to give instructions to his clerks and overseers,
and was confined to bed only a few days. He departed
this life on the 17th of July, 1794, retaining all his RoebvuJ
faculties, spirit, and good humour, to the last.
A life so devoted to business left little time for pub- Itoelller'
lications of any kind ; but the few he left behind him s—’'V^
sufficiently show what might have been expected from
his pen, had the most of his time been spent in study.
All his writings that have been published, except two
political pamphlets, are, a comparison of the heat of
London and Edinburgh, experiments on ignited bo¬
dies, and observations on the ripening and filling of
corn.
ROELLA, a genus of plants belonging to the pentan-
dria class; and in the natural method ranking under the
29th order, Campanncecc. See Botany Index.
ROEMER, Olaus, a celebrated Danish mathemati¬
cian and astronomer, was born at Arhusen in Jutland,
in the year 1614, and was sent to the university of Co¬
penhagen at the age of 18. By his assiduous applica¬
tion to the study of astronomy and mathematics, he be¬
came so eminent in those sciences, that Picard was asto¬
nished and delighted with him, wrhen making observa¬
tions in the north, by the order of Lewis XIV. He
was prevailed on to accompany Picard to France, and
being presented to the king, he was chosen the dau¬
phin’s tutor in the study of mathematics. He was after¬
wards united with Picard and Cassini in making astrono¬
mical observations, and became a member of the Acade¬
my of Sciences in 1672.
His discoveries acquired him great reputation during
his ten years residence at Paris ; and he did not scruple
to assert, that Picard and Cassini took the merit of ma¬
ny things which belonged exclusively to himself. Roe-
mer was the first person who discovered the velocity with
which light moves, by means of the eclipses of Jupiter’s
satellites, determining it to be about 7 or 8 minutes in
coming from the sun to the earth. This opinion was
opposed by many, but it was afterwards demonstrated
in a most ingenious manner by Dr Bradley.
Christian V. king of Denmark, recalled Roemer to
his native country in the year 1681, when he was ap¬
pointed professor of astronomy at Copenhagen; and he
was also employed in the reformation of the coin and
architecture of the country, in regukting the weights
and measures, and inlaying out the high roads through¬
out the kingdom, in the discharge of which his conduct
was truly creditable to himself, and gave the greatest
satisfaction to his royal employer. The consequence
was that the king bestow'ed many dignities upon him,
and among others appointed him chancellor of the ex¬
chequer. In fine, he was made counsellor of state
and burgomaster of Copenhagen, under Frederic IV.
who succeeded Christian already mentioned.
While Roemer w’as engaged in preparing to publish
the result of his observations, he was taken oft’by death
on the 19th of September 1710, when about 66 years
of age. Horrebow, his disciple, made up this loss, by
publishing in 4to, in 1758, when professor of astronomy
at Copenhagen, various observations of Roemer, with his
method of observing, under the title of Basis Astrono¬
mic. He had also printed various astronomical obser¬
vations and pieces in several volumes of the Memoirs
of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, of the in¬
stitution of 1666, particularly vols. 1st and 10th of that
collection.
ROGAj
logs
I!
ohan.
v^J
ll o H [ 107 ] . 11 O II
ROGA, in antiquity, a present Avhich the emperors
made to the senators, magistrates, and even to the peo¬
ple ; and the popes and patriarchs to their clergy. These
roffue were distributed by the emperors on the first day
oi tlie year, on their birth-day, or on the nata/is dies
of the cities ; and by the popes and patriarchs in passion-
week. Roga is also used for the common pay of the
soldiers.
ROGATION, rogatio, in the Roman jurispru¬
dence, a demand made by the consuls or tribunes of the
Roman people, when a law was proposed to be passed.
Eocalio is also used for the decree itself made in conse-
quenceof the people’s givingtheir assent to this demand;
to distinguish it from a senalus consuUum, or decree of
the senate.
RoGATWN+Week, the week immediately succeeding
Whitsunday ; so called from the three feasts therein, viz.
on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.
ROGER de Hoveden, a learned man of the ISth
century, was born in Yorkshire, most probably at the
town of that name, now called Howden, some time in
the reign of Henry I. After he had received the first
parts of education in his native country, he studied the
civil and canon law, which were then become the most
fashionable and lucrative branches of learning. He be¬
came domestic chaplain to Henry II. who employed him
to transact several ecclesiastical affairs ; in which he ac¬
quitted himself with honour. But his most meritorious
work was, his Annals of England, from A. D. 731,
when Bede’s Ecclesiastical History ends, to A. D. 1202.
This work, which is one of the most voluminous of our
ancient histories, is more valuable for the sincerity with
which it is written, and the great variety of (ac ts which
it contains, than for the beauty of its style, or the regu¬
larity of its arrangement.
ROGUE, in Law, an idle sturdy beggar; who by
ancient statutes is for the first offence called a rogue of
the first degree, and punished by whipping, and boring
through the gristle of the right ear with a hot iron ; and
for the second offence, is termed a rogue (rfthe second de¬
gree, and if above IS years of age, o: dered to be execu¬
ted as a felon.
ROHAN, Peter pe, Chevalier de Gi6, and mar¬
shal of France, better known by the name of Marshal
de Gie, was the son of Louis de Rohan, the first of the
name, lord of Guetnene and Montauban, and descended
of one of the most ancientandmost illustrious families of
the kingdom. The family of Rohan before the Revo¬
lution, held the rank of prince in France in conseqnence
deriving itsorigin from the first sovereignsof Brittany,
and clearly admitted by the dukes of Brittany them*
eelves in the states general of that province held in 1088.
The house of Rohan had still another advantage, which
was common to it with very few families, even the most
distinguished among the princes, namely that instead of
having been aggrandized by the wealth procured from
alliances, it had held in itself for seven centuries the lar¬
gest possessions of any family in the kingdom.
One of the most distinguished branches of this family
was Peter, the subject of the present article. Louis XI.
rewarded his bravery with the staff of marshal of France
in 1475. He was one of the lour lords who governed
the kingdom during the indisposition of that prince at
Chinon in 1484s Two years afterwards he opposed the
attacks of the archduke of Austria upon Picardy. He
commanded the van-guard at the battle of Fornoue in
149.5, andsigna ized himself much in that engagement
His bravery procured him the countenance and confi¬
dence of Louis XII. who appointed him his prime
counsellor, and general of the army in Italy; but these
advantages lie lost, by incurring the displeasure of Anne
of Brittany the queen.
'The marshal had stopped«ome of her equipage on the
road to Nantz; for which that vindictive princess pre¬
vailed on her husband to enter into a process against him
before the parliament of Toulouse, at that time the most
rigorous and severe in the kingdom. He was on the 1.5th
of February 1506’ found guilty, banished from the court,
and deprived of the privileges and emoluments of his of¬
fice for five years. The expence of this prosecution a-
mounted to more than 31,000 livres, and it did no hon¬
our either to the king or the queen. If indeed it be true,
tnat the queen was never so much delighted as with the
humiliation of her enemies, she had good reason to be
satisfied here. John of Authon, who hath entered into
a pretty full detail of this affair, reports that Gie, being
removed to the Chateau de Dreux, became an object of
ridicule tothe witnesses whohad sworn against him. He
wore a long white beard, and, quite full of the thoughts
of his disgrace, took it on one occasion in his hands and
cuvered his face with if. An ape, belonging to Alain
d’Albert, count of Dreux, jumped from a bed where
his master was repodng himself’ and attacked the beard
of Gie, who, with some difficulty, extricated himself.
This scene not only occasioned- much laughter to the
whole company who were present, but likewise became
instantly the subject of the farces and mummeries which
were then acting in Fiance. Even the school-boys made
a representation of it, where, alluding to the name of
tfie queen, they said, that there was a marshal who
wished to shoe an ass (iin ane), but that he received such
a blow with the foot, as threw him over the wall into
the garden. Mareschal de Gie died at Paris, the 22d
April 1513, perfectly disgusted with courts and gran¬
deur.
Rohan, Henry duke of, peer of France, and prince
of Leon, was born at the Chateau de Blein in Brittany
in 1579* Henry IV. under whose eyes he gave distin¬
guished proof’s of his bravery at the siege of Amiens,
when only 16 years of age, loved him with as much af¬
fection as if he had been his own son. After the death
of Henry, he became chief of the Calvinists in France ;
and was equally formidable for his genius as his sword.
In defence of the civil and religious rights of his party,
he maintained three wars against Louis XIII. The first,
which terminated to the advantage of the Protestants,
broke out when that prince -wished to establish the Ro¬
mish religion in Le Bearn : the second, because of the
siege which Cardinal De Richlieu caused to be laid to
Rochelle: and the third, when that place was besieged
a second time. The consequences of this war are suffi¬
ciently known ; Rochelle surrendered ; and the duke de
Rohan perceiving, that alter the taking of this place,
the majority of his party were endeavouring to make up
matters with the court, succee led in procuring for them
a general peace in 1629, upon very honourable and ad¬
vantageous terms. The only sacrifice of importance
which the Huguenots were obLced to make, was their
O 2 fortifications;
Roliam
R 0 II [ 108 ]
R O II
’Rohan, fortifications ; which put it out of their jpower to renew
the war. Some factious persons.dissatisfiel with seeing
their fort-esses fall into their enemies hands, were ready
to accuse their general of having sold them. This great
man, undeservingofsuch odious ingratitude, presented h;s
breast to these enraged malcontents, and said, “ Strike,
strike ! I wish todie by your hands,after I have hazard¬
ed my life in your service ” The peace of 1629 having
extinguished the flame of civil war, the duke de Rohan,
no longer of use to his party, and become disagreeable
at court, retired to Venice. There is a very particular
anecdote of him, extracted from the Memoirs of the
duchess of Rohan, Margaret of Bethune, daughter of the
famous Sully. Whilst the duke de Rohan was at Venice,
a proposal Avas made to him from the Porte, that for
200,000 crowns, and an annual tribute of 20,000, the
Grand Signior would give him the islandof Cyprus, and
fully invest him with the dignity and prerogatives of
king. The duke was warmly inclined to comply Avith
this proposal, and to settle in the island the Protestant
families of France and Germany. Fie negociated this
business at the Porte by means of the inter\rention of the
patriarch Cyril, with Avhomhehadmuch correspondence;
but different circumstances, and in particular the death
of the patriarch, occurred to break off the treaty. The
republic of Venice chose Rohan for their commander in
chief against the imperialists ; but Louis III. took him
from the Venetians, and sent him ambassador into SAvis-
serland, and into the Orisons. He wished to assist these
people in bringing back La Valteline under their obe¬
dience, the revolt of which the Spaniards and Imperia¬
lists encouraged. Rohan, being declared general of the
Grisons, after many victories, drove the German and
Spanish troops entirely from La Valteline in 1633. He
defeated the Spaniards again in 1636 at the banks of the
lake of Come. France, not thinking it proper to with¬
draw her troops, the Grisons rose up in arms, and the
duke de Rohan, not satisfied with the conduct of the
court, entered into a special treaty with them the 28th
March 1637. This hero, fearing the resentment of
cardinal de Richlieu, retired to Geneva, with a view to
join his friend the duke of Saxe-Weimar, who Avished
him to undertake the command of his army, then ready
to engage the Imperialists near Rhinfield. Although he
declined this honour, yet he took the command of the
regiment of Nassau, with which hethrew the enemyinta
confusion ; butwas himself wounded,February28.1683,
and died of his wounds the 13th of April following, at
the age of 59* He was interred May 27* in the church
of St Pierre in Geneva, where there is a magnificent
monument of marble erected to his memory, having
on it the most illustrious actions of his life. The duke
de Rohan was one of the greatest generals of his time,
equal to the princes of Orange, and capable, like them,
of settlinga commonwealth ; but morezealous than they
for religion, or at least appearing to be so. He was
vigilant and indefatigable, not allowing himself any
pleasures which might take off his attention from his
necessary employments, and well qualified for being the
head of a party; a post very difficult to retain, and
in which he had to fear equally from his enemies and
his friends. It is in this light that Voltaire has viewed
this illustntms character, when he composed the follow¬
ing verse :
u4vec tons les talens le del l'avoit fnit mitre :
II agit en Herns: en Sage il ecrivit.
II fat me me grand homme en combattanl son Mailre,
Et plus grand lorsquil le servit.
His military virtueswere much heightenedby the sweet¬
ness of his disposition, his affable and courteous manners,
and by a generosity which hid few examples. Neither
ambition, pride, nor a view of gain, could ever be traced
in his character. He was Avont to say, that “ true glory
and a zeal for the public good never dwelt where self-
interest reigned.” Rohan had always a particular re¬
gard for Henry the Fourth : “ Truly (said he, some¬
time after the death of that prince) Avhen I think of
him, my heart is ready to break. A Avound received
in his presence would have afforded me more satisfac¬
tion than now to gain a battle. I would have valued
an encomium from him in this art, of which he Avas the
greatest master of his time, more than the united praises
of all the commanders now living." He wrote several
interesting performances : 1. The Interests of Princes,
printed at Cologne in 1666, in 12mo: in which work
he fully examines the public interests of all the princes
of Europe. 2, The Perfect General, or an abridge¬
ment of the wars from Caesar’s Commentaries, in l2mo.
In this he makes it appear, that a knowledge of the
tactics of the ancients might be of much use to the
moderns. 3. A Treatise on the Corruption of the An¬
cient Militia. 4. A Treatise on the Government of the
Thirteen Provinces. 5. Memoirs ; the best edition of
which is in 2 vols. 12mo. They contain the history of
France from 1610 to 1629* 6. A Collection of some
Poll ical Discourses on State Affairs, from 1612 to 1629,
8vo, Paris, 1644, 1693, 175.3 ; with the Memoirs and
Letters of Henry Duke de Rohan relative to the war
of La Valteline, 3 vols. 12mo,. Geneva, 1757- This
wasthe first edition Avhich appeared of these curious me¬
moirs : We owe it to the g! eat attention and diligence
of M. le Baron de Zurlauben, who published them from
different authentic manuscripts. He likewise ornament¬
ed this edition with geographical, historical, and genea¬
logical notes, and a preface, which contains an abridged,
but highly interesting life, of the dukede Rohan, author
of the memoirs. The Abbe Perau has also written a
life of him, which occupies the 21st and 22 1 volumes
of the History of the Illustrious Men of France. Some
Avant of spirit might be excused in the detail of wars
finished upwards of 140 years ago ; yet the memoirs of
the duke de Rohan still afford considerable pleasure in
the perusal. He tells his story with humour, Avith suf¬
ficient exactness, and in such a style as procures the con¬
fidence of the reader.
ROHAULT, James, a celebrated Cartesian phi¬
losopher, was the son ot a merchant of Amiens, where
he was born in 1620. He became Avell skilled in the
mathematics, and taught them at Paris, where he be¬
came acquainted with M. Clerselier, an advocate, Avho
gave him his daughter in marriage. Rohault also taught
philosophy in the same city with uncommon applause.
He there improved the arts, and gave excellent lectures
to the artists and workmen. He died at Paris in 1675.
He wrote in French, 1. A Treatise on Natural Philo¬
sophy. 2. The Elements of the Mathematics. 3. A
Treatise on Mechanics, which is very curious. 4. Phi¬
losophical
Rohan,
liohauli,
II O L [ 109 ] R 0 L
lohault losophical Conversations, and other works. His Physics
have been translated into Latin, by Dr Samuel Clarke,
Roll. with notes, in which the Cartesian errors are corrected
-'Y'^ upon the Newtonian system.
ROLANDRA, a genus of plants belonging to the
syngenesis class; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 49th order, Compositce. The common calyx con¬
sists of Ai^tincXjlosculi, between each of which are short
squama;, the whole forming a round head. The partial
calyx is bivalved. The corolla is small and funnel-
shaped, the tube small as a thread, the lacinice short and
acute. The stamina are five; the style bifid. It has
no other seed-vessel except the partial calyx, which con¬
tains a long three-sided seed. Of this there is only one
species, viz. the Argentea, a native of the West Indies,
and found in copses and waste lands.-
ROLL, in manufactories, something wound and fold¬
ed up in a cylindrical form.
Few stuffs are made up in roll«, except satins, gauses,
and crapes; which are apt to break, and take plaits
not easy to be got out, if folded otherwise. Ribbonsj
laces, gallons, aud paduas of all kinds, are also thus rol¬
led.
A roll of tobacco, is tobacco in the leaf, twisted on
the mill, and wound twist over twist about a stick or
roller. A great deal of tobacco is sold in America in
rolls of various weights; and it is not till its arrival in
England, Spain, France, and Holland, that it is cut.
A roll of parchment, properly denotes the quantity
of 1)0 skins.
The ancients made all their books up in the form of
rolls; and in Cicero’s time the libraries consisted wholly
of such rolls.
Roll, in Low, signifies a schedule or parchment
which may be rolled up by the hand into the form of a
pipe.
In these schedules of parchment, all the pleadings>
memorials, and acts of court, are entered and filed by
the proper officer ; which being done, they become re¬
cords of the court. Of these there are in the exchequer
several kinds, as the great wardrobe roll, the cofferer’s
roll, the subsidy-roll, &c.
Roll is also used for a list of the names of persons of
the same condition, or of those who have entered into
the same engagement. Thus a court-roll of a manor, is
that in which the names, rents, and services, of each
tenant are copied and enrolled.
Calves-head Roll, a roll in the two temples in which
every bencher is taxed yearly at 2s. every barrister at
Is. 6d. and every gentleman under the bar at Is. to
the cook and other officers of the house, in considera¬
tion of a dinner of calves-heads provided in Easter-
term.
Muster-RoLL, that in which are entered the soldiers
of every troop, company, regiment, &c. As soon as a
soldier’s name is written down on the roll, it is death
for him to desert.
RoLLS-Office, is an office in Chancery-lane, London,
appointed for the custody of the rolls and records in
chancery.
Master of the Rolls. See Master of the Rolls.
Rider-RoLL, a schedule of parchmentfrequentlysew-
ed or added to some part of a roll or record.
Rolls of Parchment, are the manuscript registers
er rolls of the proceedings of our ancient parliaments,
which before the invention of printing were all engros*- Ttoll
ed on parchment, and proclaimed openly in every coun¬
ty. In these rolls are also contained a great many de- Rolli.
cisions of difficult points of law, which were frequent-
ly in former times referred to tire dechion of that high
court.
Roll, or Roller, is a’so a piece of wood, iron, brass,
&c. of a cylindrical form, used in the construction of
several machines, and in several works and manufac¬
tures.
Thus in the glass manufacture they have a running-
roll, which is a thick cylinder of caA brass, which serves
to conduct the melted glass to the end of the table on
which large looking-glasses, &c. are cast.
F'ounders also use a roll to work the sand which they
use in making their mould.
The presses called calendars, as serving to calendar
stuffs withal, consist, among other essential parts, of
two rollers. It is also between the two rollers that the
waves aie given to silks, mohairs, and other stuffs pro¬
per to be tabbied.
Impressions from copper-plates are also taken by pas¬
sing the plate and paper between two rollers. See Rol*
ling-Press Printing.
Rolls, in flatting-mills, &c. are two iron instruments
of a cylindrical form, which serve to draw or stretch
out plates of go'd, silver, and other metals.
Rolls, in sugar-works, are two large iron barrels
which serve to bruise the canes, and to express the
juice. These are cast hollow, and their cavities are fill¬
ed up with wood, the cylinders of which are properly
the rollers.
ROLLER, in Surgery, a long and broad bandage,
usually of linen-cloth, rolled round any part of the body,
to keep it in, or dispose it to a state of health.
ROLLI, Paul, an'Italian poet, was born at Rome in
1 C>87. He was the son of an architect, and a pupil of
the celebrated Gravina, who inspired him with a taste
for learning and poetry. An intelligent and learned
English lord having brought him to London, introdu¬
ced him to the royal family as a master of the Tuscan
language. Rolli remained in England till the death of
Queen Caroline his protector, and the patroness of lite¬
rature in general. He returned to Italy in 1747, where
he died in 17b’7> in the 80th year of his age, leaving
behind him a very curious collection in natural history,
&c and a valuable and well chosen library. Flis prin¬
cipal works first appeared in London in 1735, in 8vo.
They consist of Odes in blank verse. Elegies, Songs,
&c. after the manner of Catullus, and a Collection of
Epigrams, printed at Florence in 1776, in 8vo, to which
is prefixed an account of his life by the abbe Fondini.
What Martial said of his own Collection may be said of
this, " That there are few good, but many indifferent
or bad, pieces in it.” Rolli, however, bore the charac¬
ter of one of the best Italian poets of his age. During
his stay in London, he procured editions of several au¬
thors of his own country. The principal of these were,
the Satires of Ariosto, the Burlesque Works of Berni,
Varehi, &c. 2 voK in 8vo, which possesses considerable
merit. The Decameron of Boccace, 1727, in 4to and
folio; in which he has faithfully copied the celebrated
and valuable edition published by the Jimtes in 1527 ;
and, lastly, of the elegant Lucretia of Marchetti, which,
after themanuscript was revised, was printed at London
iir
ft 0 L [ 110 ] ft O L
Rolli, in 1717^ in Svo, through the influence and attention of
Rollin, Rolli. This edition is beautiful; but the work is thought
to be of a pernicious tendency, lie likewise translated
into Italian verse the Paradise Lost of Milton, printed
at London in folio, in 1735 ; and the Odes of Anacreon,
London 1739j in 8vo.
ROLLIN, Charles, a justly celebrated French
writer, was the son of a cutler at Paris, and was born
there on the 30th of January 1661. He studied at
ihe college Du Plessis, in which he obtained a bursary
through ithe interest of a Benedictine monk of the White
Mantle, whom he had served at table, and who disco¬
vered in him some marks of genius. Here he acquired
the regard of M. Gobinet, principal of that college,
who had a particular esteem for him. After having
studied humanity and philosophy at the college of Du
Plessis, he applied to divinity three years at the Sor-
bonne; but he did not prosecute this study, and never
rose in the church higher than to the rank of a tonsured
priest He afterwards became professor of rhetoric in
the same college; and in 1688, succeeded Horsan, his
master, as professor of eloquence, in the royal college.
No man ever exercised the functions of it with greater
eclat: he often made Latin orations, to celebrate the
memorable events of the times ; and frequently accom¬
panied them with poems, which were read and esteemed
bv every body. In 1694, he was chosen rector of the
university; and continued in that office two years, which
was then a mark of distinction. By virtue of his office,
he spoke the annual panegyric upon Louis XIV. He
made many very useful regulations in the “university ;
and particularly revived the study of the Greek lan¬
guage, which was then much neglected. He substitu¬
ted academical exercises in the place of tragedies; and
introduced the practice which had been formerly obser¬
ved, of causing the students to get by heart passages of
Scripture- He was a man of indefatigable attention;
and trained innumerable persons, who did honour to the
church, the state, and the army. The first president
Portail was pleased one day to reproach Rollin in a jo¬
cular strain, as if he exceeded even himself in doing bu¬
siness : to whom Rollin replied, with that plainness and
sincerity which was natural to him, “ It becomes you
well, Sir, to reproach me with this: it is this habit of
labour in me which has distinguished you in the place
of advocate-general, which has raised you to that of first
president: you owe the greatness of your fortune to
me.”
Upon the expiration of the rectorship. Cardinal No-
ailles engaged him to superintend the studies of his
nephews, who were in the college of Laon ; and in this
office he was agreeably employed, when, in ] 6’99, he
was with great reluctance made coadjutor to the prin¬
cipal of the college of Beauvais. This college was then
a kind of desert, inhabited by very few students, and
without any manner of discipline: but Rollin’s great
reputation and industry soon re-peopled it, and made
it that flourishing society it has ever since continued.
In this situation he continued till 1712; when the war
between the Jesuits and the Jansenists drawing towards
a crisis, he fell a sacrifice to the prevalence of the for¬
mer. Father le Tellier, the king’s confessor, a furious
agent of the Jesuits, infused into hie master prejudices
against Rollin, whose connections with Cardinal de No-
ailles would alone have sufficed to have made him a
Jansenist; and on this account he lost his share ill the Hollm.
pr'nc pality of Beauvais. No man, however, could -y-«»
have lost less in this than Rollin, who had every thing
left him that was necessary to make him happy ; re¬
tirement, books, and enough to live on. He now be¬
gan to be employed upon Quinctilian; an author he
justly valued, and saw neglected not without uneasiness.
Fie retrenched in him whatever he thought rather cu¬
rious than useful for the instruction of youth ; he placed
summaries or contents at the head of each chapter; and
he accompanied the text with short select notes. His
edition appeared in 1715, in 2 vols. 12mo, with an
elegant preface, sett’ng forth his method and views.
In 1710, the university of Paris, willing to have a
head suitable to the importance of their interests in a
very critical conjuncture of affairs, chose Roll n again
rector: but he was displaced in about two months by
a lettre de cachet. The university had presented to the
parliament a pet tion, in which it protested against ta¬
king any part in the adjustment of the late disputes;
and their being congratulated in a public oration by
Rollin on this step, occasioned the letter which ordered
them to choose a rector of more moderation. What¬
ever the university might suffer by the removal of Rol¬
lin, the public was probably a gainer ; for he now ap¬
plied himself to compose his Treatise upon the Manner
of Studying and Teaching the Belles Lettres, which
was published, two volumes in 1726, and two more in
1728, 8vo.
This work has been justly esteemed for the sentiments
of religion which animate its author, whose zeal for the
public good prompted him to select the choicest pas¬
sages of Greek and Latin authors. The style is suffi¬
ciently elegant, but the language on some occ asions is
not remarkable for delicacy; and in the book altogether,
there is neither much order nor depth. The author has
indeed spoken of common things agreeably, and has
spoken as an orator on subjects which demand the in¬
vestigation of tire philosopher. One can scarcely re¬
duce any thing in h m to principles. — For example, the
three species of eloquence ; the simple, the temperate,
and the sublime, can scarcely be understood from him
when we read that the one resembles a frugal table;
the second a beautiful ruin, with green wood growing
on its banks; and the third thunder and an impetuous
river which overthrow s every thing that opposes it.
The work, however, has been exceedingly successful,
and justly so; and its success encouraged its author to
undertake another work of equal use and entertainment;
his Hisioire Ancienne, &c. or “ Ancient History of the
Egyptians,Cartliaginians, Assyrians, Babylonians, Medes
and Persians, Macedonians, and Greeks,” which he fi¬
nished in 13 vols. 8vo, and published between 1730 and
1738. M. Voltaire, after having observed that Rollin
was “ the first member of the university of Paris who
wrote French with dignity and correctness,” says of
this work, that “ though the last volumes, which were
written in too great a hurry, are not equal to the first,
it is nevertheless the best compilation that has yet ap¬
peared in any language; because it is seldom that com¬
pilers are eloquent, and Rollin was remarkably so.”
This is perhaps saying too much. There are indeed in
this work some passages very v'ell handled; but they
are only such as he had taken from the ancient authors,
in doing justice to whom he was always very happy.
The
E O L [ 111 ] R O L
The render will easily discover in this work the same
attachment to religion, the same desire for the public
good, and the same love of virtue, which appears in that
on the belles lettres. But it is to be lamented that
his chronology is neither exact nor corresponding ; that
he states facts inaccurately ; that he has not sufficiently
examined the exaggerations of ancient historians ; that
he often interrupts the most solemn narrations with mere
trifles ; that his style is not uniform; and this want of
uniformity arises from his borrowing from writers of a
modern date 40 or 50 pages at a time. Nothing can
be morenoble and more refined than his reflections; but
they are strewed with too sparing a hand, and want that
lively and laconic turn on account of which the histo¬
rians of antiquity are read with so much pleasure. He
transgresses the rulewhich he himself hadestablished in
his Treatise on Studies. “ The precepts which have a
respect to manners (says he) ought, in order to make
an impression, to he short and lively, and pointed like a
dart. That is the most certain method of making
them enter and remain on the mind.” There is a vi¬
sible negligence in his diction with regard to grammati¬
cal custom, and the choice of his expressions, which he
does not choose at all times with sufficient taste, al¬
though, on the whole, he writes well, and has preserved
himself free from many of the faults of modern authors..
While thelast volumes of his Ancient History wereprint-
ing, he published the first of his Roman History; which
he lived to carry on, through the eight and into part
of the ninth, to the war against the Cimbri, about 70
years before the battle of Actiurm Mr Crevier, the
worthy disciple of Rollin, continued the history to the
battle of Actium, which closes the tenth volume ; and
has since completed the original plan of Rollin in l6
vols. 12mo, which was to bringit down from the foun¬
dation of the city to the reign of Constantine the Great.
This history had not so great success as his Ancient
History had. Indeed it is rather a moral and historical
discourse than a formal history; for the author does
little more than point out some more remarkable events,
while he dwells with a sort of prolixity on those parts
which furnish him a free field for moralizing. It is al¬
ternately diffuse and barren; and the greatest advantage
of the work is, that there are several passages from T.
Livy translated with great elegance into French. He
also published A Latin Translation of most of the The¬
ological Writings relative to the disputes of tire Times
in which he lived. Rollin was one of the most zealous
adherents of Deacon Paris; and before the inclosure of
the cemetery of St Medard, this distinguished character
might have been often seen praying at the foot of his
tomb. This he confesses in his Letters. He pub¬
lished also Lesser Pieces ; containing different Letters,
Latin Harangues, Discourses,Complimentary Addresses,
ike. Paris 177H 2 vols. 12mo. A collection which
might have been contained in one volume, by keeping
in only the best pieces. It is notwithstanding valuable
for some good pieces which it contains, for the favour¬
able opinion which it exhibits of solid probity, sound
reason, and the zeal of the author for the progress of
virtue and the preservation of taste. The Latin of
Rollin is very correct, and much after the Ciceronian
style, and embelished with most judicious thoughts and
agreeable images. Full of the reading of the ancients,
from which he brought quotations with as much pro-i
pnety as plenty, he expressed himself with much spirit
and excellence. His Latin poems deserve the same
eulogium.
This excellent person died in 1741. He had been
named by the king a member of the academy of in~
scriptions and belles lettres in 1701 : but as he had not
then brought the college of Beauvais into repute, and
found he had more business upon his hands than was
consistent with a decent attendance upon the functions
of an academician, he begged the privilegesof a veteran,
which wei’e honourably granted him. Nevertheless, he
maintained his connections with the academy, attended
their assemblies as often as he could, laidthe plan of his
Ancient History before them, and demanded an acade¬
mician for his censor. Rollin was a man of an admir¬
able composition ; very ingenious, consummate in polite
learningj of rigid morals, and eminently pious. He was
rather too religious ; his religion carrying him into the
territories of superstition ; and he wanted nothing but a
mixture of the philosophic in his nature to make him a
very perfect character. Nothing could be more benign,
more pacific, more sweet, more moderate, than Rollin’*
temper. He showed,, it must be owned, some zeal for
the cause of Jansenism; but in all other respects he was
exceedingly moderate. The celebrated poet Rousseau
conceived such a veneration for him, that he came out
of banishment incognito to Paris, on purpose to visit him
and pay his respects to him. He looked upon his hi¬
stories, not only as the best models of the historic kind,
but as a complete system of politics and morals, and a
most instructive school for princes as well as subjects to
learn all their duties in.
Instead of blushing at the lowness of his birth, Rollin
on no occasion hesitated to speak of it. “ It is from
the Cyclop’s shop (says he, in a Latin epigram to one
of his friends, to whom he had sent a small sword) that
I have taken my flight towards Parnassus.” He was
not, however, without some share of vanity, especially
at hearing mention made of his writings, of which the
well-timed praises of his adherents had givenhim avery
high opinion. He spoke without any dissimulation
what he thought; and his opinions were less the effect
of presumption than of openness of heart. He was one
of those men who are vain withoutany mixture of pride.
Rollin spoke pretty well; but he had a greater readi¬
ness of writing than speaking ; and much more satisfac¬
tion might be derived from his works than from his con¬
versation. His name became famous throughout Eu¬
rope ; several princes sought the honour of his friend¬
ship. The duke ofCumberland and the prince-royal of
Prussia (afterwards king) were among the list of his ad¬
mirers. This monarch honoured him with several let¬
ters ; in one of which he pays him the following com¬
pliment, “ Men of your character are fit companions
for kings.” As to the literary merit of this author, it
was, we suspect, too much extolled in his own time, and
has been too much undervalued in ouis.
ROLLING, the motion by which a ship rocks from
side to side like a cradle, occasioned by the agitation of
the waves.
Rolling, therefore, is a sort of revolution about an
imaginary axis passing through the centre of gravity
of a ship : so that the nearer the centre of gravity is to
the keel, the more violent will be the rolling motion ;
because the centre about which the vibrations are made
is
TtoITlDr-
Holling.
li O L [ 112 ] R O L
Rolling, -g pjace(] go ]0w in the bottom, that the resistance mafle
ki)ii0, b)Tthe keel to the volume of water which it displaces
in rolling, bears very little proportion to tlie force of
the vibration above the centre of gravity, the radius of
which extends as high as tire mast-heads.
But if the centre of gravity is placed higher above
the keel, the radius of vibration will not only be dimi¬
nished, but an additional force to oppose the motion of
rolling will be communicated to that part of the ship’s
bottom which is below the centre of gravity.
So far as relates to the effect of rolling, when pro¬
duced by the quality or stowage of the ballast, and to
the manner by which it may be prevented, viz. a
change of the quantity or disposition of the ballast, we
shall endeavour to explain under the article Trim. It
may, however, be necessary to remark, that the con¬
struction of the ship’s bottom may also contribute to
diminish this movement considerably.
Many fatal disasters have happened to ships arising
from violent rollings ; as the loss of the masts, loosen¬
ing of the cannon, and straining violently on the decks
and sides, so as to weaken the ship to a great degree.
See Pitching.
HoLLiNG-Press. See PoUhtg-Pnfiss.
PoLLiNG-Tuckle, a pulley or purchase fastened to
that part of a sail-yard which is to the windward of the
mast, in order to confine the yard clo^e down to the
' leeward when the sail is furled.
It is used to prevent the yard from having a great
friction against the mast in a high sea, which wou’d be
equally pernicious to both.
HOLLO, the conqueror of Normandy, was a Nor¬
wegian duke, banished from his country by Harold
Harfager, who conquered Norway in 870, on account
of the piracies he exercised. He first retired with his
fleet among the islands of the Hebrides to the north¬
west cf Scotland, whither the flower of the Norwegian
nobili y had fled for refuge ever since Harold had be¬
come master of the wLolekingdom. He was there re¬
ceived with open arms by those warriors, who, eager
for conquest and revenge, waited only for a chief to
undei take some glorious enterprise. Kollo setting him¬
self at their head, and, seeing his power formidable,
sailed towards England, which had been long as it
were a field open on all sides to the violence of the
nortliern nations. But the great Alfred had some
years before established such order in his part of the
island, that Kollo, after several fruitless attempts, de¬
spaired of forming there such a settlement as should
make him amends for the loss of his own country. He
pretended, therefore, to have had a supernatural dream,
which promised him a glorious fortune in France, and
which served at least to support the ardour of his fol¬
lowers. The weakness of the government in that
kingdom, and the confusion in which it wras involved,
were still more persuasive reasons to insure them of
success. Having therefore sailed up the Seine to
Rouen, he immediately took that capital of the pro¬
vince, then called Neustria, and making it his maga¬
zine of arms, he advanced up to Paris, to which he
laid siege in form. This war at length ended in the
entire cession of Neustria, which Charles the Simple
was obliged to give up to Kollo and his Normans in
order to purchase a peace. Kollo received it in perpe¬
tuity to himself and his posterity, as a feudal duchy de¬
pendant on the-crown of France. A description of the
interview between Charles and this new duke gives us
a curious picture of the manners of these Normans (as
they were called by foreigners) ; for the latter w^ould
not take the oath of fealty to his sovereign lord any
other way than by placing his hands within those of the
king ; and absolutely refused to kiss his feet, as custom
then required. It was with great difficulty he w’as pre¬
vailed on to let one of his wai riors perform this ceremo¬
ny in his stead ; but the officer to whom Kollo deputed
this service, suddenly raised the king’s foot sohigh, that
he overturned him on his back ; a piece of rudeness
which was only laughetl at: to such a degree were the
Normans feared, ami Charles despisad.
Soon after, Kollo was persuaded to embrace Christi¬
anity, and he was baptized with much ceremony by the
archbishop of Rouen in the cathedral <?f that city. As
soon as he saw himself in full possession of Normandy,
he exhibite 1 such virtues as rendered the province hap¬
py, and deserved to make his former outrages forgotten.
Religious, wise, and liberal, this captain of pirates be¬
came, after Alfred, the greatest and most humane
prince of his time.
ROLLOCK, Robert, the first principal of the uni¬
versity of Edinburgh, was the son of David Rollock of
Powis, in the vicinity of Stirling. He was born in the
year 1555, and was taught the rudiments of the Latin
tongue by a person then eminent in his profession. He
was sent from school to the university of St Andrews,
where his progress was so rapid, that he was made pro¬
fessor of philosophy soon after he obtained the degree
of master of arts.
The magistrates of Edinburgh having petitioned the
king to found a university in that city, they obtained a
charter under the great seal, by which they were al¬
lowed all the privi'eges of a university, which was built
in 15S2, and Mr bollock was chosen principal and
professor of divinity. He was soon famous in the uni¬
versity on account of his lectures, and among his coun¬
trymen at large for his persuasive mode of preaching.
In the year 15.03, Pi incipal Rollock and others were ap¬
pointed by parliament to confer with the popish lords ;
and in the following year he was one of those made
choice of by the general assembly, to present his majesty
with a paper, entitled, the dangers which, through the
impunity of excommunicated papists, traffickers with the
Spaniards, and other enemies of the religion and state,
are imminent to the true religion professed within this
realm, his majesty's person, crown, and liberty of this our
native country. His zeal against popery was carried to
excess, and he seemstohave been of opinion, that it was
incumbent on the civil magistrate to punish idolatry
with death. In the year 1595, he was empowered,
along with others, to visit the different universities in
Scotland, with a view to enquire into the doctrine and
practice of the different masters, the discipline adopted
by them, and the state of their rents and living, which
they were ordered to report to the next general assem¬
bly.
He was chosen moderator of the general assembly in
the year 1597, at which period he was fortunate enough
to obtain the redress of several glaring abuses. The
greater part of his life was spent in conducting the af¬
fairs of the church, yet Spottiswood assures us that he
woukl rather Lave preferred retirement and study. In¬
deed,
Hollo,
Rollock,
II O M [ 1
ullock deed, the feebleness of his constitution was not equal to
^ the hurry and bustle of public life, which he did not
mance. love'equal to the retirement of study. He was very
1 much affected with the stone, the pains of which he
bore with the fortitude and resignation of a Christian.
He died at Edinburgh on the last day of February
1598, in the 43d year of his age, beseeching his bre¬
thren, in his last moments, to be more dutiful and obe¬
dient to their gracious sovereign.
Short as his life was, he published many works, of
which the following is a summary. A Commentary on
the first book of Beza’s Questions; on St Paul’s Epistle
to the Ephesians; on the prophet Daniel; a Logical
Analysis of St Paul’s Epistle to the Romans; some
Questions and Answers concerning the covenant of
Grace and the Sacraments; a treatise of Effectual Call¬
ing; a Commentary on the Epistles of Paul to the
Thessalonians and Philemon ; on fifteen select psalms ;
on the Gospel of St John, with a harmony of the four
Evangelists upon the death, resurrection, and ascension
of Jesus Christ; certain Sermons on several places of
St Paul’s Epistles ; a Commentary on the Epistle to the
Colossians; a Logical Analysis of the Epistle to the
Hebrews ; of the Epistle to the Galatians ; a Commen¬
tary upon the first two chapters of the first Epistle of
St Peter; a Treatise of Justification, and another of
Excommunication. All these, except the Sermons, were
written in Latin. The following epitaph seems to
prove that Rollock was much esteemed at the university
over which he presided.
Te Rolloce, extincto, urbsmcesta, academia mmsta est;
Et tota exequiis Scotia moesta tuis.
Uno in te nobis dederat Deus omnia, in uno
Te Deus eripuit omnia quae dederit.
ROMAN, in general, something belonging to the
city of Rome. See Rome.
King of the ROMANS, in Modern History, is a
prince elected to be successor to the reigning emperor
of Germany.
ROMANCE, in matters of literature, a fabulous re¬
lation of certain adventures designed for the entertain¬
ment and instruction of the readers, and differing from
the novel as it always exhibits actions great, dangerous,
and generally extravagant. Many authors of the first
name have written on the ancient romance. It has ex¬
ercised the pen of Hurd, of Warburton, and of some
ladies, who have not thought it any derogation to the
sensibility of their sex to unite antiquarian research
with the cultivation of the belles lettres. We have not,
however, seen anywhere so concise, just, and elegant
an account of the origin and progress of romances as in
DTsraeli’s Curiosities of Literature. “ Romance (says
this writer) has been elegantly defined the offspring of
fiction and love. Men of learning have amused them-
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
IS ] K b M
selves with tracing the epocha of romances. In this Romance,
research they have displayed more ingenuity than j udge-
ment; and some have fancied that it may have existed
as far back as the time of Aristotle ; Dearchus, one of
his disciples, having written several works of this amu¬
sing species.
“ Let us, however, be satisfied in deriving it from the
Theagenes and Chariclea of Heliodorus, a bishop who
lived in the 4th century, and whose work has been lately
translated. This elegant prelate was the Grecian Fene-
lon (a). Beautiful as these compositions are when
the imagination of the writer is sufficiently stored with
accurate observations on human nature, in their birth,
like many of the fine arts, they found in the zealots of
religion men who opposed their progress. However
Heliodorus may have delighted those who were notin-
sensible to the felicities of a fine imagination, and to
the enchanting elegancies of style, he raised himself,
among his brother ecclesiastics, enemies ; who at length
so far prevailed, that it was declared by a synod, that
his performance was dangerous to young persons, and
that if the author did not suppress it, he must resign his
bishopric. We are told he preferred his romance to
his bishopric. Even so late as in Racine’s time, it was
held a crime to peruse these unhallowed pages. He in¬
forms us, that the first effusions of his muse were in con¬
sequence of studying that ancient romance, which his
master observing him to devour with the keenness of a
famished man, he snatched it from his hands and dung
it in the fire ; a second copy experienced the same fate.
What could Racine do ? He bought a third, and took
the precaution of devouring it secretly till he got it by
heart; after which he offered it to his master with a
smile to burn, if he chose, like the others.
The decision of these bigots was founded in their
opinion of the immorality of such works. They alleged,
that the writers paint too warmly to the imagination,
address themselves too forcibly to the passions, and, in
general, by the freedom of their representations, hover
on the borders of indecency. This censure is certainly
well-founded. Many of the old romances, and even of
the dramas, acted in Scotland two centuries ago, are
such as common prostitutes would in this age think in¬
decent. But we are at present concerned with the ori¬
gin of Romance.
“ The learned Fleury thinks that they were not known
till the 12th century, and gives as their original the
history of the Dukes of Normandy. Verdier, whose
opinion is of no great weight, says .the invention of ro¬
mance was owing to the Normans of France ; and that
these fictions being originally written in the old Nor¬
man language, they were entitled Normances; the name
was afterwards altered to that of Romances. The Spa¬
niards, who borrowed them from the French, called
them Romanzes, which also did the Italians.
f P “ Dom
‘ i A i n in^eni?.us anc^ \earned friend inquires, * Is not the romance of the Golden Ass, by Apuleius, to be con-
51 ^e( as an ear ler sPechuen than that of Heliodorus ?’ To this our author has no objection; but he would not
warran ««//lomance to be Xhe first that ever was written. It is thus that some waiters, more learned than saga-
iou^, lave iscoveied the first inventor of epistolary correspondence. A lady receives this honour : such learning
.e*Pera iom t le Asiatic Researches, and other publications on Oriental literature, we are led to believe,
from ti” COUntrf °* romance *s t^e east i where it seems to have flourished in all its extravagant grandeur
“ Dom Rivet, one of tlie learned associates of the con¬
gregation of St Maur, authors of the Literary History
of France, fixes their origin in the 10th century. He
says, that the most ancient romance known was one
which appeared in the middle of that century, under
the title of Philomena, or the Beloved. This romance
contains the pretended exploits of Charlemagne before
Narbonne. At Toulouse, he tells us, they have pre¬
served a copy of the Philomena in its original language ;
that is to say, the Romaunt or polished; such as was
then spoken at court. They preferred this language
to the Latin, which was then that of the common
people, but vitiated with their corruptions.
“ So far have we travelled on the road of conjecture:
we shall now turn into the path of fact. It is certain
that these compositions derive their name from the lan¬
guage in which they were first written. Abbe Iraild
has given us the character of the earliest romances,
which we shall transcribe; for to add to what is well
expressed, however it may please the vanity of a writer,
seldom tends to the gratification of the reader.
‘ The first romances were a monstrous assemblage
of histories, in which truth and fiction were equally
blended, but all without probability ; a composition of
amorous adventures, and all the extravagant ideas of
chivalry. The incidents are infinitely multiplied; desti¬
tute of connection, of order, and art. These are the an¬
cient and miserable romances which Cervantes, in his
celebrated satirical romance of Don Quixote, has cover¬
ed with an eternal ridicule.’
“ It is, however, from these productions rather in their
improved state, that poets of all nations have drawn their
richest inventions. The agreeable wildness of that fan¬
cy which characterised the eastern nations was caught
by the crusaders. When they returned home, they
mingled in their own the customs of each country. The
Saracens, who were men like themselves, because they
were of another religion, and were therefore their ene¬
mies, were pictured under the tremendous form of Pay-
nim Giants. The credulous reader of that day followed
with trembling anxiety the Red-cross Knight. It was
thus that fiction embellished religion, and religion invi¬
gorated fiction. Such incidents have enlivened the cantos
of Ariosto, and adorned the epic of Tasso. Spencer is
the child of their creation; and it is certain that we are
indebted to them for some of the bold and strong touch¬
es of Milton.”
Other circumstances however have been assigned as
the sources of these extravagant fictions. “ Castles were
erected to repulse the vagrant attacks of the Normans;
and in France (from the year 768 to 987) these places
became fatal to the public repose. The petty despots
who raised these castles, pillaged whoever passed, and
carried off the females who pleased them. Rapine, of
every kind, w as the privilege of Lords ! Mezeray ob¬
serves, that it is from these circumstances romancers
have invented their tales of knights errant, monsters,
and giants.
“ De Saint Foix, in his Historical Essays on this sub¬
ject, thus expresses himself: f Women and girls wrere
not in greater security when they passed by abbeys.
The monks sustained an assault rather than relinquish
their prey : if they saw themselves losing ground, they
brought to their walls the relics of some saint. Then it
generally happened that the assailants, seized with aw¬
ful veneration, retired, and dared not to pursue their
vengeance. This is the origin of the enchanters of
the enchantments, and of the enchanted castles, de¬
scribed in romances.’
“ To these may be added w hat the author of Northern
Antiquities, vol. i. p. 24j, w rites, that ‘ as the walls
of the castles ran w inding round them, they often called
them by a name which signified serpents or dragons; and
in these were commonly secured the women and young
maids of distinction, w ho were seldom safe at a time
when so many bold warriors w'ere rambling up and
down in search of adventures. It was this custom
which gave occasion to ancient romancers, who knew
not how to describe any thing simply, to invent so
many fables concerning princesses of great beauty,
guarded by dragons.’
“ The Italian romances of the 14th century wrere
spread abroad in great numbers. They formed the po¬
lite literature of the day. But if it is not permitted to
authors freely to express their ideas, and give full play
to the imagination, these works must never be placed
in the study of the rigid moralist. They indeed pushed
their indelicacy to the vei*ge of grossness, and seemed
rather to seek than to avoid scenes which a modern
would blush to describe. They (to employ the expres¬
sion of one of their authors) were not ashamed to name
wdiat God had created. Cinthio, Bandello, and others,
but chiefly Boccacio, rendered libertinism agreeable, by
the fascinating charms of a polished style, and a luxuri¬
ant imagination.
“ This how ever must not be admitted as an apology
for immoral works ; for poison is still poison, even when
it is delicious. Such works were, and still continue
to be, the favourites of a nation which is stigmatised
from being prone to illicit pleasures and impure amours.
They are still curious in their editions, and are not par¬
simonious in their price for what they call an uncastra¬
ted copy. There are many Italians, not literary men,
who are in possession of am ample library of the old
novelists.
“ If we pass over the moral irregularities of these ro¬
mances, we may discover a rich vein of invention, which
only requires to be released from that rubbish which
disfigures it to become of an invaluable price. The
Decamerons,the Hecatoimniti, and the Novellas of these
writers, made no inconsiderable figure in the little li¬
brary of our Shakespeare. Chaucer is a notorious imi¬
tator and lover of them ; his Knight’s Tale is little more
than a paraphrase of Boccacio’s Tefeoide. Fontaine
has caught all their charms with all their licentiousness.
From such works, these great poets, and many of their
contemporaries, frequently borrowed their plots ; not
uncommonly kindled at their flame the ardour of their
genius ; but bending too submissively to their own pe¬
culiar taste, or that of their age. in extracting the ore,
they have not purified it of their alloy. *
“ We must now turn our contemplation to the French
romances of the last century. They were then carried
to a point of perfection, which as romances they can¬
not exceed. To this the Astrea of D’Urse greatly
contributed. It was followed by the Illustrious Bassa,
the Great Cyrus, Clelia, &c. which, though not adapt¬
ed to the present age, gave celebrity to their authors.
Their style, as well as that of the Astrea, is diffuse and
insipid. Zaide (attributed by some to Segrais, but by
Huet
II 0 M
[ 115 ]
It 0 M
jnTanoe Huet to Madame La Fayette) and the princess of
Cleves are translated, and though they are masterpieces
>mano. ()f tlie kind, were never popular in our country, and
are little adapted to its genius.
“It is not surprising that romances have been regard¬
ed as pernicious to good sense, morals, taste and lite¬
rature. It was in this light they vere considered by
Boileau; because a few had succeeded, a crowd imita¬
ted their examples. Gomberville and Scudery, and a
few more were admired; but the satirist dissolved the
illusion. This he did most effectually by a dialogue,
in which he ridicules those citizens of a certain district,
whose characters were concealed in these romances, un¬
der the names of Brutus, Horace Codes, Lucretius,
and Clelia. This dialogue he only read to his friends,
and did not give it for a long time to the public, as
he esteemed Mademoiselle de Scudery: but when at
length it was published, it united all the romance wri¬
ters against our satirist.
“ From romances, which had now exhausted the pa¬
tience of the public, sprung novels. They attempted
to allure attention by this inviting title, and reducing
their works from ten to two volumes. The name of
romance disgusted ; and they substituted those of histo¬
ries, lives, memoirs, and adventures. In these works
(observes Irail) they quitted the unnatural incidents,
the heroic projects, the complicated and endless in¬
trigues, and the exertion of noble passions ; heroes were
not now taken from the throne, tlrej' were sought for
even amongst the lowest ranks of the people. On this
subject, I shall just observe, that a novel is a very dan¬
gerous poison in the hand of a libertine; it may be a
salutary medicine in that of a virtuous writer.” See
Novel.
ROMAGNA, a province of Italy, in the pope’s
territories, bounded on the north by the Ferrarese, on
the south by Tuscany and the duchy of Urbino, on the
east by the gulf of Venice, and on the west by the Bo¬
lognese and a part of Tuscany. It is fertile in corn,
wine, oil, fine fruits, and pastures. It has also mines,
mineral waters, and salt-works, which make its principal
revenue. Ravenna is the capital town.
ROMANIA, a province of Turkey in Europe,
bounded on the north by Bulgaria, on the east by the
Black sea, on the south by the Archipelago and the
sea of Marmora, and on the west by Macedonia and
Bulgaria; being 200 miles in length and 150 in
breadth. It was formerly called Thrace, and is the
principal and largest of all the provinces the Turks pos¬
sess in Europe. It is a fruitful country in corn and
pastures, and there are mines of silver, lead, and alum.
It is divided into three great governments or sangia-
cates; namely, Kirkel, of wThich Philipoli is the ca¬
pital ; Gulipoli, whose capital is of the same name;
and Byzantium, or Byzia, or Viza, of which Con¬
stantinople is the capital. The Turks bestow the
name of Romclia on all the territories they possess in
Europe.
ROMANO, Giulio, a famous painter, wras the
disciple of Raphael, who had such an affection for him,
that he appointed him, with John Francis Penni, his
heir. His conceptions were mo'-e extraordinary and
more elev .ted than even those of his master, but not
natural. He wus wonderful in the choice of atti-
Rrtnnmrt,
liomfe.
tudes ; but did not perfectly understand the lights and
shades, and is frequently harsh and ungraceful. The
folds of his draperies, says Du Fresnoy, are neither
beautiful nor great, easy nor natural, but all extrava¬
gant, like the fantastical habits of comedians. He w as,
however, superior to most painters, by his profound
knowledge of antiquity; and, by conversing with the
works of the most excellent poets, particularly Homer
he made himself master of the qualifications necessarily
required in a great designer. Julio Romano was also
well skilled in architecture. He was employed by Car¬
dinal de Medicis, who was afterwards pope under the
name of Clement VII.; and afterwurds went to Mantua,
whither he was invited by Frederick Gonzago, marquis
of that city, in order to avoid his being justly punished
for his having drawn at Rome the designs of 20 ob¬
scene plates, engraved by Mark Anthony, to which A-
retine added the same number of sonnets. Julio Ro¬
mano embellished the city of Mantua writh many of his
performances both in painting and architecture ; and
died in that city in 1545, at 45 years of age, much
regretted by the marquis, who had an extraordinary
friendship for him.
ROME, a very ancient and celebrated city of Ita¬
ly, situated on the river Tiber, in E. Long. 13°. N.
Lat. 41. 45. once the capital of the greatest empire in
the world; and famous in modern history for being the
centre of an ecclesiastical tyranny, by which for many
ages the greatest part of the world was held in subjec- ^
The ancient Romans derived their origin from 7E- tended ^ *
neas the Trojan hero ; and though some historians pre- from yE-
tend to treat his voyage into Italy as a mere fable, yet neas>
no sufficient reasons for rejecting this account have been
offered, nor has any more probable history of the origin
of the Roman name been given; so that, without en¬
tering into the dispute, we shall proceed to the history
of JEneas and his successors as they are recorded by the
generality of Latin writers.
When the Greeks, by the treachery of the sons of
Antenor, or by whatever other means it happened,
were become masters of Troy, JEneas with the forces
under his command retired into the fortress of the city,
and defended it bravely for some time; but yielding at 2
length to necessity, he conveyed away his gods, his fa- -‘Eneas fliee
ther, wife, and children, with every thing he had that 1
was valuable, and, followed by a numerous crowd of ^
Trojans, fled to the strong places of Mount Ida. Hi¬
ther all those of his countrymen, who were more an¬
xious than the rest to preserve their liberty, flocked to
him from the several towns of Troas. His army thus
augmented and advantageously posted, he continued
quiet, waiting for the departure of the Greeks, who
it was imagined, would return home as soon as they
had pillaged the country. But these, after they had
enriched themselves with the spoils of Troy and of the
neighbouring towns, turned their arms against the fu¬
gitives, resolving to attack them in their strong-holds
upon the mountain. Aeneas, to avoid the hazard of
being forced in his last refuge, had recourse to nego- s
ciation; and, by his heralds, intreated the enemy not Makes
to constrain him to a battle. Peace was granted him,
on condition that he with his followers quitted the Tro- and leavPi ’
jan territories; and the Greeks, on their part, promi- his coua..
P 2 sed try.
ROM [ 116 ] R O M
Rome, sed not to molest him in his retreat-, hut to let him
safely pass through any country within the extent of
their domination.
Upon this assurance dBneas equipped a fleet, in or¬
der to seek a settlement in some foreign land. We are
told, that at his departure he left his eldest son Asca-
nius with the Dasylites, a people of Bithynia, who de¬
sired to have him for their king; but that the young
prince did not remain long with them: for when Sca-
mandrius (Astyanax), with the rest of the Hectorula?
whom Neoptolemus permitted to return home from
Greece, repaired to him, he put himself at their head,
and led them back to their native country.
The Trojan, having crossed the Hellespont, arrived
in the peninsula of Pallene, where he built a city, call¬
ed from him Mncia, and left in it a part of that mul¬
titude which had followed him. From thence he sail¬
ed to Delos ; and thence to Cythera, where he erected
a temple to Venus. He built another to the same god¬
dess in Zacynthus, in which island he likewise institu¬
ted games, called the races of Mneas and Venus : the
statues of both, says Dionysius, are standing to this
day. In Leucas, where the Trojans landed, was to be
seen, in the same author’s time, a temple erected to Ve¬
nus the mother of iEneas. Nor were Actium and Am-
bracia without monuments that testified his arrival in
those places. At Dodona w’ere found brazen vases,
upon which the name of the Trojan hero, who had
made an offering of them to Jupiter, wras engraven in
old characters. Not far from Buthrotos, in Epirus, a
Trojan camp which had escaped the injuries of time,
retained the name of Troja. All these antiquities, still
subsisting in the reign of Augustus, were then looked
upon as indisputable proofs of iEneas’s voyage to Epi¬
rus : " and that he came into Italy (adds the same
Dionysius) we have the concurrent testimony of all the
Romans ; the ceremonies they observe in their sacri¬
fices and festivals bear witness to it, as also the Sibyl¬
line books, the Pythian oracles, and many other things
which nobody can reasonably reject as invented merely
for ornament.”
The first land of Italy which /Eneas made, after
crossing the Ionian sea, was Cape Minerva, in lapygia;
and here he w ent on shore. Sailing afterwards from
hence, and coasting along the south-east of Italy and
the east and south sides of Sicily, he arrived with his
fleet either by choice or by stress of weather at the port
of Drepanum in that is'and, Elymus and iEgestus, who
had escaped from Troy a little before him, had brought
Trojan colony to this place. ^Eneas augmented it
by a good number of his followers, whom, pleased to
have found a safe resting place after many dangers and
fatiguing voyages, he willingly left behind him at their
request; though certain authors pretend that he was
constrained to it by the difficulty of transporting them,
because some Trojan women, weary of the sea, had
burnt a considerable part of his ships.
iEneas, leaving Drepanum, steered his course for I-
taly across the Tyrrhenian sea. To the cape w here he
first landed, he gave the name Palinurus, from one of
bis pilots who died there. The little island of Leuca-
«ia, not far distant, whither he sailed next, got its name
in like manner from a daughter of ^Eneas’s sister, who
there ended her days. The port of Misenum, the island
ol Prochyta, and the promontory of Cajeta, where he
successively arrived, were so called from being the bu- Rome,
rial places, the first of a noble Trojan his companion, ’''—"Y'W
the second of his kinswoman, and the third of his
nurse. At length the Trojan prince and his cnosen
band finished their tedious and painful voyages on the 4
coast of the since famous Latium. This was a small Laads in
territory on the east side of the river Tiber, contain- Italh
ing a part of the present Campagna di Roma : Latinos
was the king of it; his capital town, Laurentum ; his
subjects, a people who, til! his time called Aborigines,
had from him taken the name of Latins. Here, far re¬
moved from their implacable enemies the Greeks, iE¬
neas and his followers undertook to raise a second Troy •
they fortified a camp near the mouth of the Tiber, gave
it the name of Troy, and flattered themselves with the
hopes of a quiet settlement, and a period to all their
unhappy adventures.
When /Eneas arrived in Italy, Latinus was engaged
in a war with the Rutuli, a neighbouring people, in
which he was attended butwith very indifferent success,
when news was brought him that a foreign army had
made a descent on his coasts, pillaged the maritime part
of his dominions, and were fortifying themselves in a
camp at a small distance from the sea. Hereupon he
marched against them wdth all his forces, hoping to ob¬
lige them to reimbark and abandon his dominions, with¬
out meeting with anygreat resistance from a band of va¬
gabonds, as he supposed, or pirates, come only to seek for
plunder: but finding them, as he drew near, well-armed,
and regularly drawn up, he thought it advisable to for¬
bear engaging troops that appeared so well disciplined ;
and, instead of venturing a battle, to desire a parley. In
this conference Latinus understanding who they were,
and being at the same time struck with terror, and
touched with compassion forthosebrave but unfortunate
men, entered into a treaty with them,and assigned them
a tract of land lor a sett'ement, on condition that they
should employ their arms and exert their valour in de¬
fence of his dominions, and look upon the Rutuli as a
common enemy. This condition iEneas readily accept- Enters®
ed; and complied with his engagement so faithfully, a11*
that Latinus came at length to repose an entire confi- ^
dence in the Trojan ; and in proof of it gave him La-
yinia, his daughter and only child, in marriage, secur- daughw,
ing to him by that means the succession to the throne of
Latium. iEneas, to testily his gratitude to Latinus,
and affection for Lavinia, gave her name to the camp
he had pitched; and instead of Troy called it Imvi-
nium. Ihe Trojans followed the example cf their
leader; and by making alliances with Latin families,
became, in a short time, one and the same people with
the Latins. -
In the mean time Turnus, the queen’s nephew, who
had been brought up in the palace under the eye of
Latinus, and entertained hopes of marrying Lavinia
and succeeding to the throne, seeing the princess be¬
stowed on a stranger, and all his views defeated, went
over to the Rutuli; and by stirring them up, brought
on a battle between them and the Latins, in which
both he and Latinus were killed. Thus oEneas, by the
t eath of his father-in-law, and by that of a troublesome
nval, came into the quiet possession of the kingdom ot
Latium, which he governed with great wisdom, and
transmitted to his posterity.
yEneas is said to have reigned three years; during
which
II 0 M
[ 117 ]
II O M
lome.
fi
i is death.
7
icc ceded
j' his son
scanius,
8
ho de-
•ats the
iutidi.
which time he established the worship of the gods of his
own country, and to the religion of the Latins added
that of Troy. The two Palladiums, which had been
the protectors of that city, became the tutelary deities
of Lavinium, and, in after ages, of the whole Roman
empire. The worship of Vesta was likewise introduced
by iEneas; and virgins, from her called Vestals, were
appointed to keep a fire continually burning in honour
of that goddess. Jupiter, Venus, and many other deities
who had been revered in Troy, became in all likelihood,
known to the Latins by means of iEneas ; which gave
occasion to the poets of representing him under the cha¬
racter of a pious hero.
While ./Eneas was thus employed, the Rutuli, ancient
enemies of the Latin name, entering into an alliance with
Mezentius king of the Tyrrhenians, took the field with
a design to drive out those new-comers, of w hose power
they began to conceive no small jealousy. /Eneasmarch¬
ed out against them at the head of his Trojans and La¬
tins. Hereupon a battle ensued, which lasted till night;
when/Eneas being pushed to the banks of the Numicus,
which ran close by Lavinium, and forced into that river,
was there drowned. The Trojans concealed his body ;
and pretending that he had vanished away on a sudden,
made him pass for a deity among his credulous subjects,
•who accordingly erected a temple to him under the title
of Jupiter Indiges.
Upon the death of /Eneas, his son Euryleon, called
also Ascanius and lulus, ascended the throne; but as
the young king did not think it advisable to venture
a battle in the very beginning of his reign, w ith a for¬
midable enemy, who promised himself great success
from the death of /Eneas, he had the prudence to con¬
fine himself within the w/ills of Lavinium, and to try
whether he could, by an honourable treaty, put an end
to so dangerous a war. But the haughty Mezentius
demanding of the Latins, as one of the conditions of
a peace, that they should pay him yearly, by way of
tribute, all the wine produced in the territory of La-
tium, Ascanius rejected the proposal with the utmost
indignation; and having caused all the vines through¬
out his dominions to be consecrated to Jupiter, and by
that means put it out of his power to comply with the
enemy’s request, he resolved to make a vigorous sally,
and try whether he could, by force of arms, bring the
insulting Tyrrhanian to more reasonable terms. The
main body of the enemy’s army was encamped at some
distance from Lavinium ; but Lausus, the son of Me¬
zentius, with the flower of their youth under his com¬
mand, lay entrenched at the very gates of the city.
The Trojans, wdio had been long accustomed to make
vigorous sallies, marching out in the night, attacked
the post where Lausus commanded, forced his entrench¬
ments, and obliged the troops he had with him to save
themselves by flying to the main body of the army en¬
camped on the plain; but the unexpected arrival and
overthrowof their advance-guard struck them with such
terror, that, instead of stopping the flight of their com¬
panions, they fled with them, in great disorder, to the
neighbouring mountains. The Latins pursued them,
and in their pursuit Lausus was killed: whose death so
discouraged Mezentius, that he immediately sued for
peace; which was granted him, upon condition, that
for the future the Tiber should be the boundary be¬
tween the Latin and Hetrurian territories.
In the mean time Lavinia, who had been left with Home?
child by /Eneas, entertaining a strong jealousy of the
ambition of her son-in-law, retired to the woods, and
was there peaceably delivered of a son, who, from his
father was named JEncas, and, from the place of his vinia and
birth, had the surname of Sylvius : but as the queen’s her son.
flight, who had disappeared on a sudden, raised suspi¬
cions at Lavinium prejudicial to the reputation of As¬
canius, he used all possible means to remove them, cau¬
sed diligent search to be made after Lavinia, calmed
her fears, and prevailed upon her to return to the town
with her son, whom he ever after treated as a brother.
Lavinium grew every day more populous; but as it
was in reality the patrimony of Lavinia, and the inhe¬
ritance of her son Sylvius, Ascanius resolved to resign
it to them, and build elsewhere another city for him¬
self. This he made the place of his residence, and the jo
capital of his new kingdom, calling it Alba Longa; Resigns the
Alba, from a white sow, which we are told TEneas kingdom,
had found in the place where it was built; and Lonp;a,
to distinguish it from another town of the same name '
in the country of the Marsi; or rather, because it ex-
tended, without having much breadth, the whole length
of a lake near which it was built. It was 30 years af¬
ter the building of Lavinium that Ascanius fixed ids
abode at Alba; and there he died, after a reign of
about 38 years, 12 of which he had resided at his new
settlement. He left a son called Julus ; so that between
him and Sylvius lay the right of succession to the La¬
tin throne ; the latter being the son, and the former the
grandson, of /Eneas.
The Latins not thinking it their interest to continue
divided, as it were, into two states, resolved to unite
Alba and Lavinium into one sovereignty; and as Syl¬
vius was born of Lavinia the daughter of Latinus, and
had thereby an undoubted title to the kingdom of his
grandfather, whereas the other was but the son of a Botl/ni tc'
stranger, the Latins bestowed the crown on Sylvius; vuri'ej. *
and, to make lulus some amends, decreed to him the
sovereign power in affairs of religion ; a power which
thenceforth continued in his family. Sylvius was suc¬
ceeded by 13 kings of the same race, who for near 400
years reigned at Alba ; but w e scarce know any thing
of them besides their names, and the years of their res¬
pective reigns. JEneas Sylvius died, after a reign of
29 years. His son, called also JEncas Sylvius, govern¬
ed LatiumSl years. Laiinus Sylvius, who succeeded
him, swayed the sceptre for the space of 51 years.—
Alba reigned 39 ; Capetus, by Livy named Atys, 26 ;
Capis, 28; and Capetus 13. Tiberinus, who suc¬
ceeded him, engaged in a war which proved fatal to
him ; for in a battle which was fought on the banks of
the Albula, he was forced into that river and drowned. jg
From him the river took the name of Tiber, which it Origin of
has borne ever since. Agrippa succeeded Tiberinus the name
after a reign of eight years ; and left the throne, which 1 tber'
he had held 41 years, to Alladius ; who reigned 19, and
was succeeded by Aventinus, who left his name to the
hill Aventinus, where he was interred. Brocas, who
succeeded him, and reigned 23 years, was the father of
Numitor and Amulius; and at his death bequeathed
the throne to his elder son Numitor. But Amulius,
who surpassed his brother in courage and understanding,
drove him from the throne ; and, to secure it to himself,
murdered /Egestus, Numitor’s only son, and conse-
crated
Home.
Adventures
of Rhea
Sylvia.
14.
'Of Romu¬
lus and Re
Vi us.
R 0 M [ IIS ] ROM
crated l«s daughter Rhea Sylvia to the worship of Ins was thus disposing every thing for the execution Rome,
Vesta, by which she was obliged to perpetual virginity, of his design, Numitor made the same discovery to Re-
Rut this precaution proved ineffectual; for as the Yes- mus concerning his parents, and the oppressions they
tal was going to a neighbouring spring to fetch water groaned under ; which so fired him, that he was ready
for the performance of a sacrifice to Mai s, she was met to embark in any enterprise. But Numitor took care
and ravished by a man in a military habit, like that in to moderate the transports of his grandson, and only
which the god Mars is represented. Some authors desired him to acquaint his brother with what he had
think that this counterfeit Mars was a lover comethi- heard from him, and to send him to his house. Romu-
ther by lier appointment; others charge Amulius him- lus soon came, and was followed by Faustulus, who
took with him the trough or skiffin which the twins had
been exposed, to shew it to Numitor : but, as the shep¬
herd betrayed an air of concern and earnestness in his
looks, he was stopped at the gate of the city, led before
Amulius, and examined concerning his burden. It
was easily known by its make and inscription, which
was still legible; and therefore Faustulus owned w-hat it
was, and confessed that the twins were living; but, in
order to gain time, pretended that they were feeding
flocks in a remote desert. In the mean time, the
usurper’s death being resolved on, Remus undertook to
raise the city, and Romulus to invest the king’s palace.
The country people came at the time appointed, and
formed themselves into companies each consisting of 100
men. They had no other ensigns but bundles of hay
hanging upon long poles, which the Latins at that time
called manipuli; and hence came the name of manipu-
lures, originally given to troops raised in the country.
With this tumultuous army Romulus beset the avenues
of the palace, forced the guard, and having killed the
tyrant, after he had reigned 42 years, restored his
grandfather Numitor to the throne. j.
Affairs being thus settled at Alba, the two brothers, Theyrt
by the advice of Numitor, undertook the founding of a solve tol
new colony. The king bestowed on them those lands foun(1 *'
near the Tiber where they had been brought up, sup- coIon'‘
plied them with all manner of instruments for breaking
up ground, with slaves,and beasts of burden, and grant¬
ed full liberty to his subjects to join them. Hereupon
most of the Trojans, of whom there still remained 50
families in Augustus’s time, chose to follow the fortune
of Romulus and Remus, as did also the inhabitants of
Pallantium and Saturnia, two small towns. For the
more speedy carrying on of the work, it was thought
pioper to divide those wrho were to be employed in the
building of the city into two companies, one under the
command of Romulus, the other of Remus ; but this di«
vision, which was designed purely with a view to the
punlic welfare, and that the two parties might work by
r.y of emulation, gave birth to two factions, and pro¬
duced ajealousy between the two brothers, which broke
self with using this violence to his niece, not so much to
gratify his lust, as to have a pretence to destroy her.—
For ever after he caused her to be carefully watched,
till she was delivered of two sons ; and then exaggera¬
ting her crime in an assembly of the people, he prevail¬
ed upon them to sentence her to death, and to condemn
the fruit of her criminal amour to be thrown into the
Tiber. The sentence against Rhea was, according to
. some authors, changed by Amulius, at the request of
his daughter Antho, into perpetual confinement, but
executed against the twins; who being laid in a wooden
trough, and carried to the foot of Mount Palatine, were
there turned adrift on the Tiber, which at that time
overflowed its banks. But the wind and stream proved
both so favourable, that at the fall of the water the two
infants were left safe on the strand, and were there hap¬
pily found by Faustulus, the chief of the king’s shep¬
herds, and suckled by his wife Acca Laurentia, who
for her disorderly life was called Lupi ; and this proba-
bly gave rise to the fabulous miracle of their being nur¬
sed Im a wolf.
As Faustulus was probably well acquainted with the
birth of the twins, he took more than ordinary care of
their education, and sent them to Gabii to be instructed
there in Greek literature. As they grew up, they ap¬
peared to have something great in their mien and air
which commanded respect; and the ascendant which
they assumed overtheother shepherds madethemdread-
ed in the forests, where they exercised a sort of empire.
A quarrel happening between the herdsmen of Amulius
and those of Numitor, the two brothers took the part
of tire former against the latter; and some blood being
shed in the fray, the adverse party, to be revenged on
Romulus and lie?nus (for so the twins were called), on
the festival of Lupercalia, surprised Remus, and carried
him before Nurnitor, to be punished according to his
deserts. But Numitor feeling himself touched in the
prisoner’s favour, a-ked him where he was born, and
who were his parents. His answer immediately struck
Number with a ^'vebr remembrance of his two grand¬
sons ; their age, which was about 18 years, agreed with
the time when the two infants were exposed upon the
-xiber ; and there needed no more to change his aimer
into tenderness °
In the mean time Romulus, eager to rescue his bro¬
ther, and pur-ue those who had carried him off was
preparing to be revenged on them; but Faustulus dis¬
suaded him from it; and on that occasion, disclosing to
him his bmh, awakened in his breast, sentiments worthy
of his extraction. Fie resolved, at ail adventures, to at¬
tempt the delivering of his mother and gi andfather Jrom
oppression. With this view he assembled the country
people, over whom he had assumed a kinel of sovereign¬
ty’ anu triMafered them to come to the city on an an-
pointed day and enter it by different gates, provided
wuh arms, which they were to conceal. While Rcmu-
out when they came to choose a place for the building
o tneii new city ; for Remus w as for the Aventine, and
Romulus for the Palatine mount. Upon which, the
matter being referred to their grandRther, he advised
re contend.ng parties to have recourse to the gods, and
to put an end to the dispute by augury, to which he
was nnrse f greatly addicted. The day appointed for
the ceremony being come, the brothers posted them-
-Cives eaca upon his hill; and it was agreed, that W'ho-
evei ouk see the first flight, or the greatest number
of vultures, should gain his cause. After the two rivals
,a, v'aitet some time for the appearance of a favour-
^ i.e omen omit lus, before any had appeared, sent to
acquaint bis brother that he had seen some vultures ;
JU vcmus, having actually seen six, while his brother’s
messengers
U 0 M [ 1
R e. messengers were yet on their way, hastened, on their ar-
^ ■mJ rival, to Mount Palatine, to examine the truth of what
they had told him. Pie had no sooner got thither, than
by an unexpected good fortune twelve vultures appear¬
ed to Romulus. These he immediately showed to his
brother; and, transported with joy, desired him to
judge himself of the truth of Avhat his messengers had
told him. However, Remus discovered the deceit ;
and, being told that Romulus had not seen the twelve
vultures till after he had seen six, he insisted on the time
of his seeing them, and the other on the number of
birds he had seen. This widened the breach between
the two brothers; and, their parties being divided,
while each man espoused the cause of his leader, the
dispute grew so warm, that, from words they came at
length to blows. The shepherd Faustulus, who was
equally dear to both the brothers, endeavouring to
part the combatants, was, by an unknown hand, laid
)ca of dead on the spot. Some writers tell us, that Remus
len • likewise lost his life in the fray ; but the greater num¬
ber place his death later, and say that he was killed by
one Fabius, for having, in derision, leaped over the
wall of the new city: but Livy says, the more com¬
mon report was, that Remus fell by the hand of his
brother.
I . Romulus, being now head of the colony, by having
rj[ e'011 g°t the better of his brother’s party in the late engage¬
ment, applied his thoughts wholly to the building of
the city, which he proposed to call after his own name.
He chose Mount Palatine for its situation, and perform¬
ed all those ceremonies which the superstition of the
Pletrurians had introduced. He first offered sacrifices
to the gods, and ordered all the people to do the same :
and from that time decreed, that eagles should be the
auspices of his new colony. After this, great fires were
kindled before their tents, and all the people leaped
through the flames to purify themselves. When this
ceremony was over, they dug a trench round the spot
where the assemblies of the people were afterwards
held, and threw into it the first-fruits of whatever they
were allowed to make use of for food: every man of
the colony was ordered to cast into the same trench an
handful of earth, brought either from his own or some
neighbouring country. The trench they called Mundiis,
that is, the world, and made it the centre round which
the city was to be built. Then Romulus, yoking an
ox and a cow to a plough, the coulter whereof was
brass, marked out, by a deep furrow, the whole compass
of the city. These two animals, the symbols of mar¬
riage, by which cities are peopled, were afterwards slain
upon the altar. All the people followed the plough,
throwing inwards the clods of earth which the plough¬
share sometimes turned outwards. Wherever a gate was
to be made, the plough was lifted up, and carried;
and hence came the Latin word porta, “ a gate,” de¬
rived from the verb port are, “ to carry.” As Mount
Palatine stood by itself, the whole Avas inclosed Avithin
the line made by the plough, Avhich formed almost the
figure of a square ; Avherfce, by Dionysius Halicarnas-
sensis, it is called Roma Quadrata.
As to the exact year of the foundation of Rome, there
is a great disagreement among historians and chronolo-
gers. Fabius Pictor, the most ancient of all the Roman
writers, places it in the end of the seventh Olympiad;
that is, according to the computation of Usher, in the
19 ] ROM
year of the Avorld 3256, of the flood 1600, and 748 Horne,
before the Christian era. The Romans, if we may so
call them, began to build, as Plutarch and others in¬
form us, on the 21st of April; which day was then con¬
secrated to Pales, goddess of the shepherds; A\dience the
festival of Pales, and that of the foundation of the city,
were afterwards jointly celebrated at Rome. u
When Rome had received the utmostperfection which At first but
its poor and rude founder could give it, it consisted of a P00r vil”
about 1000 houses, or rather huts : and was, properly lase*
speaking, a beggarly village, whereof the principal in¬
habitants follow ed the plough, being obliged to culti¬
vate Avith their OAvn hands the ungrateful soil of a bar¬
ren country Avhich they had shared among themselves.
Even the walls of Romulus’s palace were made of rush¬
es, and covered Avith thatch. As every one had chosen
his ground to build upon, Avithout any regard to the re¬
gularity and beauty of the Avhole, the streets, if we may
so call them, Avere both crooked and narrow. In short,
Rome, till it Avas rebuilt after the burning of it by the
Gauls, Avas rather a disorderly heap of huts, than a city
built Avith any regularity of order. jo
As soon as the building of the city was finished, Ro- Romulus
mulus assembled the people, and desired them to choose electc(*
Avhat kind of government they would obey. At that ^in^’
time monarchy was the unanimous voice of the Romans,
and Romulus was elected king. Before he ascended the
throne, hoAvever, he consulted the Avill of the gods by
augury; and having received a favourable answer, it
thence became an established custom to have recourse to
augury before the raising any one to the dignitjr of king,
priest, or any public employment. After this he ap¬
plied himself to the establishment of good order and sub¬
ordination among his subjects. He put on a habit of
distinction for himself, appointed 12 lictors to attend
him as guards, divided his subjects, Avho at this time
consisted only of 33,000 men, into curia7, decuria;, pa¬
tricians, plebeians, patrons, clients, &c. for an account
of which, see these articles as they occur in the order of
the alphabet. After this he formed a senate consisting
of 100 persons, chosen from among the patricians ; and
a guard of 300 young men called celeres, Avho attended
the king, and fought either on foot or on horseback as
occasion required. The king’s office at home Avas to
take care of religious affairs, to be the guardian of laws
and customs; to decide the Aveightier causes betAveen
man and man, referring those of smaller moment to the
senate ; to call together the senators, and assemble the
people, first delivering his own opinion concerning
the affair he proposed, and then ratifying by his consent
Avhat was agreed on by the majority. Abroad, and in
the time of war, he was to command the army Avith ab¬
solute authority, and to take care of the public money.
The senate were not only to be judges in matters of
small importance, but to debate and resolve upon such
public affairs as the king proposed, and to determine
them by a plurality of Amices. The people were allow¬
ed to create magistrates, enact laws, and resolve upon
any war which the king proposed; but in all these
things the consent of the senate Avas necessary.
Romulus next proceeded to settle the religious affairs
of his people. Many of the Trojan and Phrygian dei¬
ties were added to those Avhom the Aborigines or Ita¬
lian natives already worshipped. lie chose priests, in¬
stituted festivals, and laid the foundation of a regular
system
ROM [ 120 ] K O M
system of religion ; after which, as his colony was still
thinly peopled, he opened an asylum for fugitive slaves,
homicides, outlaws, and debtors. These, however, he
did not at first receive within the walls, but appointed
for their habitation the hill Saturnius, called afterwards
Capitolinus, on which he erected a temple to a divinity
of his own invention, whom he named the Asyhan god,
under whose protection all criminals were to live se¬
curely. But afterwards, when the city was enlarged,
the asylum was inclosed within the walls, and those
^ who dwelt in it included among the citizens of Rome.
Rnpe^of the When Romulus had thus settled every thing relating
Sabine wo- to his new colony, it was found that a supply of w'omen
*nen, was wanting to perpetuate its duration. This occasion¬
ed some difficulty; for the neighbouring nations refused
to give their daughters in marriage to such a crew of
vagabonds as had settled in Rome ; wherefore Romulus
at last resolved on the following expedient. By the ad¬
vice of his grandfather Numitor, and with the consent
of the senate, he proclaimed a solemn feast and public
games in honour of the Equestrian Neptune called Con¬
sul. This occasioned a great concourse of people, w ho
flocked from the adjacent parts to behold these pompous
shows, together with the new city. But, in the midst
of the solemnity, the Romans, rushing in with their
swords drawn, seized all the young women, to the num¬
ber of (i83, for w hom Romulus chose husbands. Among
all those who were thus seized, only one married wm-
man, named Hersiliu, was found ; and Romulus is said
to have kept her for himself.
wccasions This violence soon brought on a war writh the neigh-
war with bouring nations. Acron, king of Caenina, a city on
the neigh- the confines of Latium, having entered into a league
tion^ 8 n<i' 'with the inhabitants of Crustuminum and Antemnse, in¬
vaded the Roman territories. Romulus marched against
them without delay, defeated the confederate army, kil¬
led their king in single combat, decreed himself a tri¬
umph, and consecrated the spoils of Acron to Jupiter
Feretrius, under the name of Opima Spolia. The city
of Camina w as razed to the ground, and the inhabitants
transplanted to Rome, where they were admitted to the
privileges of citizens. The king then marched witli
one legion (consisting at this time of 3000 foot and 300
horse) against the. Cru stum ini and Antemnates, both of
22 wrh°m he defeated in battle, and transplanted the inha-
Tiome ei>- bitants to Rome; which being incapable of holding such
larged. a number, Romulus took in the hill Saturnius above
mentioned, on the top of which he built a citadel, com¬
mitting the care of it to a noble Roman named Tarpeius.
The citadel was surrounded on all sides with ramparts
and towers, which equally commanded the city and
country. From the foot of the hill Saturnius a wall was
carried on quite to the Tiber, and a gate opened in it
3lamed Carmentalis, from Carmenta the mother of E-
vander, who either lived there, or had some chapel or
altar erected to her.
Romulus had now become so formidable to his neigh¬
bours, and had so well established his reputation for
clemency, that several cities of Hetruria voluntarily sub¬
mitted to him. Coelius, an Hetrurian general, led the
troops under his command to Rome, and settled on a
hill near the city, which from him took tlie name of
Mount Ccelms. The Sabines, however, not in the least
dismayed at this increase of the Roman forces, sent a de-
y.u t^tion to Romulu s, demanding restitution of the young
women who had been carried off; and, upon his refu- Itonif,
sal, marched to Rome with an army of 2,0,000 foot and y-*
1000 horse, under the command of their king Titus ?3
Tatius. Romulus, having received supplies from Nu- Invasioni
mitor and from Hetruria, likewise took the field, with tlle ^
20,000 foot and 800 horse, with whom he seized an ad¬
vantageous post, and fortified himself so strongly, that
he could not he attacked. The Sabine monarch, per¬
ceiving the military skill of Romulus, began to be ap¬
prehensive of the event; but was extricated out of his 24
difficulties by the treachery of Tarpeia, daughter to the Thetitad
governor of the citadel, who agreed to betray that im- bes>es«i
portant fortress to the enemy, on condition of being re¬
warded with the bracelets which the Sabines wore on
their left arms. But when once they became masters of
this important place, they are said to have crushed Tar¬
peia under the w eight of their bucklers, pretending that
thus they discharged their promise, as they w ore their
bucklers also on their left arms. The possession of the
citadel enabled the Sabines to carry on the war with
more success; but, at last, in a general engagement,
they had the misfortune to be driven back into the cita¬
del, whither they w ere pursued by the Romans, who
expected to have retaken that important post; but the
enemy, rolling down great stones from the top of the
hill, wounded Romulus on the head, so that he was
carried insensible out of the field of battle, while, in the
mean time, his troops w ere repulsed, and pursued to the
very gates of Rome. However, the king soon recover¬
ing himself, encouraged his routed troops, and drove the
enemy back into the citadeL But w7hile the two na¬
tions were thus fiercely contending, the w'omen, for
whose cause the w ar had been commenced, undertook
the office of mediators; and having obtained leave from
the senate, marched in a body to the camp of the Sa¬
bines, where they pleaded the cause of their husbands
so effectually, that a treaty of union between the two
nations was set on foot, and a peace was at last con- 2J
eluded, on the following terms. 1. That the twro kings Peace cl
should reside and reign jointly at Rome. 2. That the duded, ■
city should still, from Romulus, be called Rome; but the the tff0
inhabitants Quirites, a name till then peculiar to the ^
Sabines. 3. That the two nations should become one;
and that the Sabines should be made free in Rome, and
enjoy all the privileges of Roman citizens. As Rome
was chiefly indebted (or this increase of her pow'er and
splendour to the Sabine women, honourable privileges
and marks of distinction were allowed them. .Every
one was commanded to give way to them ; in capital
causes they were exempted from the jurisdiction of the
ordinary judges; and their children wrere allowed to
wear a golden ball hanging from their necks, and a
particular kind of robe called preetexia, to distinguish
them from the vulgar.
1 he two kings reigned w ith great harmony for the
space of five years; during which time the only military
exploit they accomplished w as the reduction of the city
of Cameria, at a small distance from Rome. Four thou¬
sand of tne Camerini were transplanted to Rome, and a
Roman colony sent to repeople Cameria ; soon after .'
w Inch tlie Sabine king w as murdered by the Lavinians,
on account of his granting protection to some of his
friends who had ravaged their territories. The Lavini-
ans, idling the resentment of Romulus, delivered up
tne assassins into his hands; but he sent them back un¬
punished,
E O M
[ 121 ]
E 0 M
lom«. punished, which gave occasion to suspect that he was
not displeased with the death of his colleague.
Soon after the death of Tati us, Rome was afflicted
with famine and pestilence, which encouraged the Ca-
merini to revolt; but Romulus marching against them
suddenly, defeated them with the loss of 6000 men.
After which he attacked the Fidenates, whose city
stood about five miles from Rome, took their capital,
and made it a Roman colony. This drew upon him
the resentment of the Veientes, a powerful nation in
the neighbourhood, who claimed Fidense as within
their jurisdiction ; but their forces being defeated in
two engagements, and a great number of them taken
prisoners they were obliged to sue for peace. Romulus
granted them a truce for 100 years, on condition that
they delivered to him seven small towns on the Tiber,
together with some salt-pits near the mouth of that ri¬
ver, and sent 50 of their chief citizens as hostages to
Rome. The prisoners taken in this war were all sold
for slaves.
The remaining part of the life of Romulus was spent
in making laws for the good of his people; but towards
the latter end of his reign, being elated with success, he
began to enlarge the bounds formerly set to his prero¬
gative, and to behave in an arbitrary manner. He
paid no longer any regard to the voice of the senate,
but assembled them only for form’s sake to ratify his
commands. The senate therefore conspired to destroy
him, and accomplished their purpose while he was re¬
viewing his troops. A violent storm of hail and thun¬
der dispersed the army ; and the senators taking this op¬
portunity, when they were left alone with the king, in¬
stantly killed him, and conveyed his body out of sight.
Some writers tell us, that, the better to conceal the
fact, they cut his body in pieces, each of them carrying
away a part under his robe; after which they told the
multitude, that their king was on a sudden surrounded
by flame, and snatched up into heaven. This strata¬
gem, however, did not satisfy the soldiery, and violent
disturbances were about to ensue, when Julius Proculus,
a senator of great distinction, having assembled the cu¬
riae, told them that Romulus had appeared to him, and
enjoined him to acquaint the people, that their king
was returned to the gods from whom he originally
came, but that he would continue to be propitious to
them under the name of Quirinus; and to the truth of
this story Julius swore.
Romulus reigned, according tothe common computa¬
tion, 37 years: but some historians reduce the length
of his reign to little more than 17 ; it being very un¬
likely, as they observe, that a prince of such an active
disposition should perform nothing worthy of record du-
1 wed by ring a period of 20 years. Be this as it will, however,
inttrreg. the death ot Romulus was followed by an interregnum,
during which the senators, to prevent anarchy and con¬
fusion, took the government into their own hands: Ta-
tius added another hundred to that body ; and these
200 senators divided themselves into decuries or tens.
These decuries drew lots which shouldgovern first; and
the decury to whose lot it fell enjoyed the sups erne au¬
thority for five days; yet in such a manner, that one
person only of the governing decury had the ensigns of
sovereignty at a time. To these another decury suc¬
ceeded, each of them sitting on the throne in his turn
&c. B it the people soon growing weary of such fre-
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
Some,
27
r like
i 1 Ro-
> .113.
23
death
quent change of masters, obliged the senate to resolve
on the electi <n of a king. The senate referred the elec- y**"
tion to the people, and the people to the senate, who at
last undertook the task. Some difficulties, however, oc¬
curred : the Romans did not choose to be subject to a
Sabine; and the Sabines, as they had been subject to
Romulus after thedeath of Tatius, insisted that the king
should be chosen out of their nation. At last it w. s
agreed, that the king should be a Sabine, but that the
Romans should make the choice. 29
In consequence of this determination, the Romans Nmna
elected Nutna Pompilius, an austere philosopher, who Pompous
had married Tatia, the daughter of Tatius the late C m
king. After the death of his wife, he gave himself en- °'
tirely up to philosophy and superstition, wandering from
solitude to solitude, in search of sacred woods and foun¬
tains, which gave the people a great opinion of his
sanctity. The pilosopher at first rejected the offer of
the kingdom ; but being at last prevailed upon, he set
out for Rome, where he was received with loud accl
mations, and had his election unanimously confirmed
by the senate.
The reign of Numa is by no means memorable for
battles or conquests, He was averse to war; and made
it his study to soften the manners of the Romans, ra¬
ther than to exalt them to superiority over their neigh¬
bours. He dismissed the celeres, encouraged agricul¬
ture, and divided the citizens into distinct bodies of
tradesmen. This last measure he took on purpose to
abolish the distinction between Romans and Sabines,
which had hitherto rent the city into two factions ;
and this effectually answered his end : for now all of
each particular profession, whether Romans or Sabines,
were obliged to associate together, and had each their
respective courts and privileges. In this division the
musicians held the first rank, because they were em¬
ployed in the offices of religion. The goldsmiths, car¬
penters, curriers, dyers, tailors. See. formed also distinct
communities ; and were allowed to make bye laws
among themselves, to have their own festivals, particu¬
lar sacrifices, &c.
Though Numa himself is said by Plutarch to have
had pretty just notions of the Supreme Being, he ne¬
vertheless added innumerable superstitions to those he
found in Rome. He divided the ministers of religion
into eight classes, appointing to each their office with
the greatest precision ; he erected a temple to Janus,
the symbol of prudence, which was to remain open in
time of war, and to be shut in time of peace. Another
temple was erected to Bonn Fides; and he invented a
new kind of deities called Dn Termini, or boundaries,
which he caused to be placed on the borders of the Ro¬
man state, and of each man’s particular lands. -The
last reformation which Numa undertook, was that of
the kaiendar. Romulus had divided his year into ten
months, which, according to Plutarch, had no certain
©r equal number of days; some consisting of 20, some
of 85, &c. However, by other historians, we are in¬
formed that he allotted to March, May, Quintilis, and
October, 31 days; to April, June, Sext lis, November,
and December 30; making in all 304 days. But Nu-
rna being better acquainted with the celestial motions,
added to thesethe two months of January and February
To compose these two months he added 50 days to the*
304; and thus made the year answer to the course of
t Qi the
It 0 M
r 122 ]
R O M
Itwne*
30
Succeeded
by Tullus
Ilostilius.
31
.His war
■with-the
Albans.
the moon. He then took six more from the months
' that had even days; and added one diy merely out of
superstition^ that the year might prove fortunate; for
the pagans looked upon even numbers as unlucky, but
imagined odd numbers to be fortunate. However, he
could make out no more than 28 for February, and
therefore that month "was always reckoned unlucky
among the Romans. Resides this, he observed the dif¬
ference between the solar and lunar year to be 11 days;
and to remedy the inequality, he added an intercalary
month named Mercedinus or Mercedonius, of 22 days
every two years: but as he knew also that the solar
year consisted of 3b5 days 6 hours, heordered that every
fourth year the month Mercedinus should consist of 23
days. The care of these intercalations was left to the
priests, who left out or put in the intercalary day or
month as they imagined it to be lucky or unlucky ; and
by that means created such confusion, that the festivals
came in process of time to be kept at a season quite op¬
posite to what they had been formerly.
These are all the remarkable transactions of the reign
of Numa, which is said to have continued 43 years ;
though some think that its duration could not be above
15 or 16. His death was followed by a short interreg¬
num ; after which Tullus Hostilius, the son or grandson
of the famous Hersilia, was unanimously chosen king.
Being of a bold and fiery temper, he did not long con¬
tinue to imitate his peaceful predecessor. The Albans,
indeed, soon gave him an opportunity of exercising his
martial disposition. Coelius, or, as he is called by Li¬
vy, Cluilius, who was at the head of the Alban repub¬
lic, jealous of the growing greatness of Rome, privately
commissioned some of the most indigent of his subjects
to waste the Roman territory ; in consequence of which,
a Roman army entered the territories of Alba, engaged
the robbers, killed many, and took a great number pri¬
soners^ A war soon commenced, in consequence of
this, between the two nations; but when the armies
came in sight of each other, their ardour cooled, neither
of them seeming inclined to come to an engagement.
This inaction raided a great discontent in the Alban
army against Cluilius ; insomuch that he came to a reso¬
lution of giving battle to the Romans next morning, or
of storming their trenches if they should decline it.
Next morning, however, he was found dead in his bed ;
after which the Alban chose in his stead one Mettus
Fuffetius, a man remarkable for his hatred to the Ro¬
man name, as Cluilius had been before him. FufFetius,
however, continued in the same state of inactivity as his
predecessor, until he received certain intelligence that
the Veientes and Fidenates had resolved to destroy both
Romans and Albans when they should be weakened bv
a battle. Fuffetius then resolved to come to an accom¬
modation with the Romans; and, having obtained a
conference with Tubus, both seemed equally desirous of
avoiding the calamities of war. But, in order to esta¬
blish the peace on the most perfect foundation, Tullus
proposed that all, or at least the chief families in Alba,
should remove to Rome ; or, in case they were unwil¬
ling to leave their native city, that one common coun¬
cil should be established to govern both cities, under the
direction of one of the two sovereigns. Fuffetius took
aside those who attended him, to consult wulh them
about this proposal; but they, though willing to come
lo an accommodation with Rome, absolutely refused to
leave Alba. The only difficulty remaining, then, was
to settle which city should have the superiority; and,
as this could not be determined by argument, Tullus
proposed to determine it by single combat betwix* him¬
self and Fuffetius. This proposal, however, the Alban
general thought proper to decline ; and it was at last
agreed, that three champions should be chosen out of
each camp to decide the difference. This produced the
famous combat between the Horatii and Curiatii, by
which the sovereignty was decided in favour of Rome.
See Horatii.
Tullus now resolved to call the Fidenates to an ac¬
count for their treacherous behaviour during the war
with Alba, and therefore cited them to appear before
the senate; but they, conscious of their guilt, refused
to appear, and took up arms in conjunction with the
Veientes. Fuffetius, in obedience to the orders of
Tullus, joined him with the Alban troops; but the
day before the battle, he acquainted the principal
officers with his design, which was to stand neuter till
fortune had declared for one side, and then to join
with the conqueror. This design being approved,
Fuffetius, during the engagement,retired with his forces
to a neighbouring eminence. Tullus perceived his
treachery; but dissembling his uneasiness, told his men
that Fuffetius had possessed himself of that hill by his
order, and that he was from thence to rush down upon
the enemy. The Veientes, in the mean time, who
had expected that Fuffetius was to join them, were
dismayed, and the Romans obtained the victory. After
the battle, Tullus returned privately to Rome in the
night; and having consulted with the senate about the
treachery of Fuffetius, returned to the camp by break
of day. He then detached Horatius, who had con¬
quered the three Curiatii, with a chosen body of horse
and foot, to demolish Alba, as had been concerted at
Rome. In the mean time, he commanded both the
Roman and Alban troops to attend him unarmed, but
gave private orders to the Romans to bring their swords
concealed under their garments. When they were as¬
sembled, he laid open the treachery of Fuffetius, and 39
ordered him to be torn in pieces by horses. His ac- Alba de-
complices were all put to the swerd ; and the inhabU molislicd
tants ef Alba carried to Rome, where they were ad- )an|lt^e 1
mitted to the privileges of citizens, and some of them
even admitted to the senate. to Koine
Tullus now turned his arms against Fidena?, which
he again reduced under the Roman yoke: and took
Moduli a, a strong city of the Latins; after "which he
waged a successful war with the Sabines, whose union
with the Romans seems to have ceased with the time of
Numa. This -was the last of his martial exploits ; after
which we hear no more of him, but that he became
extremely superstitious in his advanced years, giving
ear to many foolish stories, as that it rained stones, that
miraculous voices were heard from heaven, &c. and
for this he appointed nine days expiatory sacrifices ;
whence it became a custom to appoint nine days to ap¬
pease the wrath of the gods as often as men wrere
a aimed wdth prodigies. As to the manner of his death 33
authors are not agreed. Some tell us that he was kill- Death 0
ed by lightning, together with his wife, children, and T"llus’
ns whole family ; while others are of opinion that he !LdedB
was murdered with his wife and children by Ancus Ancus
who succeeded him. He died after a' reign of Martius.
23
li 0 M [ 123 ] R 0 M
I n«e. 53 j'ears, leaving the city greatly increased, but the do-
t niimons much the same as they had been in the time of
Itomulus.
After a short interregnum, Ancus Martins, the
grandson of Numa by his daughter Pompilia and Mar¬
cus his relation, was unanimous'y chosen by the people
and senate. Though naturally inclined to war, he be¬
gan his reign with attempting to restore the ceremonies
of Numa, which had been neglected under Tullus Ho-
stilius. He endeavoured also to draw the attention of
his people to husbandry and the peaceful arts; advising
them to lay aside all sorts of violence, and to return to
their former employments. This gained him the af-
, fections of his subjects, but brought upon him the con¬
tempt of the neighbouring nations. The Latins pre¬
tending that their treaty with Rome was expired, made
34, inroads into the Roman territories. Ancus, after using
j warlike the ceremonies directed by Numa, took the field with an
e oits army consisting entirely of new-levied troops, and re-
a death. t]uce(] the cities of Politorium, Tillena, and Ficana,
transplanting the inhabitants to Rome. A new colony
of Latins repeopled Politorium ; but Ancus retook the
place next year, and entirely demolished it. He then
laid siege to Medulia; which, though it had been ruin¬
ed by Tullus Hostilius, was now stronger than ever. It
submitted after a siege of four years, when Ancus
found himself obliged to undertake a second expedition
against Ficana, which he had before reduced, as we
have already related ; and it Avas not without the ut¬
most difficulty that he reduced it a second time. After
this he defeated the Latins in a pitched battle ; van¬
quished the Fidenates, Veientes, and Sabines; and ha¬
ving taken in the hill Janiculum to be included within
the wralls, and built the port of Ostia, he died in tire
24th year of his reign.
Ancus Martius left two sons behind him, one an
infant, and the other about 15 years of age. Both
of these he put under the tuition of Tarquin, the son of
a rich merchant in Corinth, who had fled from that city
to secure his wealth from Cypselus tyrant of the place.
He settled in Tarquinii, one of the principal cities in
^planted ^etruria; but finding that he could not there attain
Tar- to any of the principal posts in the city on account of
in I. his foreign extraction, he removed to Rome, where he
had been gradually raised to the rank of patrician and
senator. The death of Ancus Martius gave him an
opportunity of assuming the regal dignity, and setting
aside his pupils; and in the beginning of his reign he
took care to strengthen his party in the senate by add¬
ing another hundred to that body. These were called
senatores minorum gentium, because they wrere chosen
«ut of the plebeians ; however, they had the same au¬
thority in the senate as the others, and their children
3^ were called paAi'czYw*.
rquin’s Tarquin was not inferior to any of his predecessors
:cees ia either in his inclination or abilities to carry on a war.
*' As soon as he ascended the throne, he recommenced
hostilities with the Latins ; from whom he took the ci¬
ties of Apiolse, Crustuminum, Nomentum, and Colla-
tia. The inhabitants of Apiolae wrere sold for slaves ;
but those of Crustuminum and Nomentum, who had
submitted after their revolt, were treated with great
clemency. The inhabitants of Collatia w^ere disarmed
and obliged to pay a large sum of money; the sove¬
reignty of it, in the mean time, being given to Egerius
the son of Anmx, Tarquirfs brother; from whence he ^mr!®
took the name of Cotlalinus, which he transmitted to
his posterity. Corniculum, another city of Latium, was
taken by storm, and reduced to ashes. This progress
having greatly alarmed the Latins, several of them join¬
ed their forces in order to oppose such a formidable
enemy; but being defeated in a bloody battle near Fi-
dena?, they were obliged to enter into an alliance with
Rome ; upon which the Latins having held a national
conference, entered into a league with the Hetrurians,
and again took the field "with a very numerous army.
But Tarquin, having defeated the confederate armies
in two very bloody battles, obliged the Latin cities
to submit to a kind of dependence on Rome; and
having entered the city in triumph, built the circus
maximus with the spoils which he had taken from the
enemy.
The war with the Latins was scarcely ended, W’hen
another commenced with Hetruria. This was account¬
ed the most powerful nation in Italy, and was at that
time divided into 12 tribes or lucurnonies. These ap¬
pointed a national assembly, in which was decreed that
the whole force of Hetruria should be employed against
Tarquin; and if any city presumed only to standneuter,
it should be for ever cut off from the national alliance.
Thus a great army was raised, with which they ravaged
the Roman territory, and took Fidenae by the treachery
of some of its inhabitants. Tarquin, not being in a
condition to oppose them at first, w as obliged to submit
to the loss occasioned by their ravages for a whole year;
after which he took the field with all the forces he
could raise. The Roman army was divided into two
bodies, one under the king himself,the other command¬
ed by his nephew Collations. The latter, having
divided his forces in order to plunder the country, was
defeated; but Tarquin, in two engagements vanquished
the army which opposed him. He then marched against
Fidenae, where he gained a third battle ; after which he
took the city. Such of the citizens as were suspected
to hare been concerned in betraying it to the enemy
were whipped to death ; the rest were sent into banish¬
ment, and their lands divided by lot among the Roman
soldiers. Tarquin now hastened to oppose the new army
of the Hetrurians before their forces could be properly
collected; and having come up with them at Eretum,
a place about 10 miles fVom Rome, defeated them with
great slaughter, for which victory he W'as decreed a
triumph by the senate ; while the enemy, disheartened
by so many misfortunes, were glad to sue for peace ;
which Tarquin readily granted, upon the sole condi- ^
tion of their owning his superiority over them. In Engj'rIJS ^
compliance with this, the Hetrurians sent him all the royalty sent
ensigns of royalty which were in use among them, viz. him by the
a crown of gold, a throne of ivory, a sceptre with Hetrumne.
an eagle on the top of it, a tunic embroidered with
gold, and adorned with figures of palm branches, to¬
gether with a purple robe enriched with flowers of
several colours. Tarquin, however, would not wear
these magnificent ornaments till such time as the senate
and people had consented to it by an express law.
He then applied the regalia to the decoration of his
triumph, and never afterwards laid them aside. In
this triumph he appeared in a gilt chariot, drawn by
four horses, clothed in a purple robe, and a tunic em¬
broidered with gold, a crown on his head, auda sceptre
Q 2 in
Beme.
3S
Builds the
common
sewers, and
ornaments
the city.
39
Adventure
of Nffivius
the augur.
It O M
[ 124 ] It O M
in his hand, attended by 12 lictors with their axes and
fasces. <
Tarquin, having now obtained some respite from war,
app);e : himself to the beautifying and ornamenting
the city. He built the walls of Rome with hewn stone,
and erected those famous common sewers which have
deservedly been accounted one of the wonders of the
world. Rome at this time contained four hills within
its compass, viz. thePalatinus, Tarpeius. Quii inalis, and
CceUus. In the valleys between these hills, the rain¬
water and springs uniting, formed great pools which
laid under water the streets and public places. The
mud likewise made the way impassable, infected the
air, and rendered the city unhealthy. Tarquin under¬
took to free the city from this nuisance, by conveying
off these waters by subterraneous channels into the Ti¬
ber. In doing this, it was necessary to cut through hills
androcks achannel large enough fora navigable stream,
and covered with arches strong enough to bear the
weight of houses, which were frequently built upon them,
and stood as firm as on the most solid foundations. All
these arches were made of hard stone, and neither trou¬
ble nor expence were spared to make the work durable.
Their height and breadth were so considerable, that a
cart loaded with hay could easily pass through them un¬
der ground. The expence of constructing these sewers
v/as never so thoroughly understood as when it became
necessary to repair them : for then the censors gave no
less than 1000 talents to the person appointed for this
purpose.
, Besides these great works, Tarquin adorned the fo¬
rum, surrounding it with galleries in which were shops
for tradesmen, and building temples in it for the youth
of both sexes, and halls for the administr.tion of pu¬
blic justice. He next engaged in a war with the Sa¬
bines, on pretence that they had assisted the Hetru-
rians. Both armies took the field, and came to an
engagement on the confines of Sabinia, without any
considerable advantage on either' side ; neither was any
thing of consequence done during the whole campaign.
Tarquin then considering with himself that the So¬
man forces were very deficient in cavalry, resolved to
add some new bodies of knights to those a’ready in¬
stituted by Romulus. But this project met with great
opposition from the superstitious augurs, as the orio-i.
nal division of horse into three bodies had been de¬
termined by auguries; and Actius Neevius, the chief of
the diviners at that time, violently opposed the king’s
vilt. On this iarquin, desirous to expose the deceit
of these people, summoned Naevius before an assembly
of the people, and desired him to show a specimen of
his art, by telling the king if what he thought of at
that time could be done or not. The augur replied
after consulting his birds, that the thing was very pos-
silde. On which Tarquin told him, that he had been
thinking whether it was possible to cut a flint with a
razor, pulling at the same time a razor and flint from
below his robe. This set the people a-laughing; but
Naevius gravely desiring the king to try it, he was" sur¬
prised to find that the flint yielded to the razor; and
that with so much ease as to draw blood from his hand.
The people testified their surprise by loud acclamations,
and Tarquin himself continued to have a great veneral
tion for augurs ever after. A statue of brass was erect¬
ed to the memory of Naevius, which continued till the
time of Augustus; the razor and flint were buried near kowe,
it, under an altar, at which witnesses were afterwards
sworn in civil causes.
This adventure, whatever was the truth of it, caused
Tarquin to abandon his design of increasing the number
of bod es of hor^e, and content himself with augment¬
ing the number in each body. He then renewed the
war with the Sabines, ravaged their country, defeated
them in three pitched battles, obliged them at last to
submit to him andput him in possession of their country.
In thedeclineof lifehe employed himself in further de¬
corating the city, building temples, &c. He wus assas- Assa^nate|
sinated in his palace, in the SOth year of his age, by the by the sons
sons of Ancus Martins, whom he had originally depri- of Anew
ved of the kingdom. Martins.
After the death of Tarquin I. his wife Tanaquil
preserved the kingdom to her son-in-law Servius Tul¬
lius, by artfully giving out that the king was only
stunned, and would soon recover; upon which the sons
of Ancus went voluntarily into banishment. Thesecond
day after his decease, Servius Tullius heard causes from
the throne in the royal robes and attended by the lic¬
tors ; but as he pretended only to supply the king’s
place till he should recover, and thought it incumbent
on him to revenge the wicked attempt upon his life,
he summoned the sons of Ancus to appear before his
tribunal; and on their non-appearance, caused them to
be declared infamous, and their estates to beconfiscated. 41
After he had thus managed matters for some lime in Servius
such a manner as to engage the affections of the people, Tll^iussilt
the death of Tarquin was published as a thing that CeaS'
had newly happened, and Servius Tullius assumed the
ensigns of royalty, having none to dispute the honour
with him.
The new king showed himself every way worthy of
the throne. No sooner were the Hetrurians informed
of Tarquin’s death, than they shook off the yoke: but
Servius quickly reduced them to obedience, depriving
them of their lands, which he shared among the poor
Roman citizens who had none. For this he was de¬
creed a triumph by the people, in spite of the opposition
of the senate, who could never be brought to approve of
his election to the kingdom, though he M’as soon after
legally chosen by the tribes.
After Servius had obtained the sanction of the po¬
pular voice, he marched a second time against the re¬
volted Hetrurians : and having again vanquished them, is
was decreed another triumph. He then applied him- Enlarges
self to the enlarging and adorning the city. To the the city>
hills Palatines, Tarpeius, Quirinalis, Coelius, and Aven- ®nd“dfi,!
turns, he added the Esquihnus and Viminalis, fixing toThoseV
is own palace on the Esquilinus, in order to draw in- ready insti-
habitants thither. He likewise added a fourth tribe, tuted'
wnich he called Tribus Esquilina, to those instituted
by Romulus. He divided also the whole Roman terri¬
tory into distinct tribes, commanding that there should
lie at least one place of refuge in each tribe situated
on a rising ground, and stnmg enough to secure the
effects of the peasants in case of a sudden alarm. These
strongholds he called pagi, that is, “ villages;” and
commanded that each of them should have their pecu¬
liar temple, tutelary god, and magistrates. Each of
them had likewise their peculiar festival, called pagee-
natia ; when every person was to pay into the hands of
taose who presided at the sacrifices a piece of money,
the
w
R O M [ 125 ] R O M
r j ne. the men of one kind, the women of another, and the
^ ^ children of a third. By this means an exact computa¬
tion was made of the men, women, and children, in
each tribe.
In the mean time, his two wards, Lucius Tarquinius
and Arunx, the grandchildren of Tarquin, being grown
up, in order to secure their fidelity, he married them to
his two daughters. And though the elder of these
daughters, who was of a mild and tractable disposition,
resembled in character the younger of his pupils, as the
elder of his pupils did the younger of his daughters, who
was of a violent and vicious temper, yet he thought it
advisable to give his elder daughter to Tarquin, and
the younger to Arunx ; for by that means he matched
them according to their ages, and at the same time ho¬
ped that the elder Tuilia’s sweet disposition would tem¬
per Tarquin’s impetuosity, and the younger Tuilia’s vi¬
vacity rouse the indolence of Arunx.
During the public rejoicing for this double marriage,
the twelve lucumonies of Hetruria, uniting their forces,
attempted to shake off the Roman yoke; but were in
several battles defeated by Servius, and obliged to sub¬
mit to him on the same conditions on which they had
submitted to his predecessor. For this success Servius
was honoured with a third triumph.
I 13 The king being thus disengaged from a troublesome
& ms wair, returned to the pursuit of his political schemes;
latc’ and put in execution that masterpiece of policy which
Rome made use of ever after, and which established a
perpetual order and regularity in all the members of
the state, with respect to wars, to the public revenues,
and the suffrages of the comitia. The public supplies
had hitherto been raised upon the people at so much
a head, without any distinction of rich and poor; whence
it likewise followed, that when levies were made for
the war, the rich and poor were equally obliged to take
the field according to the order of their tribe ; and as
they all served at their own expence, the poorer sort
could hardly bear the charges of a campaign. Besides,
as the most indigent of the people saw themselves bur¬
dened with the same taxes as the rich, they pretended
to an equal authority in the comitia : so that the elec¬
tion of kings and magistrates, the making of peace or
war, and the judging of criminals, were given up into
the hands of a populace who were easily corrupted, and
had nothing to lose. Servius formed a project to reme¬
dy these evils, and put it in execution, by enacting a
law, enjoining all the Roman citizens to bring in an
account in writing of their own names and ages, and of
those of their fathers, wives, and children. By the
same law, all heads of families w'ere commanded to de¬
liver in upon oath a just estimate of their effects, and
to add to it the places of their abode, whether in town
or country. Whoever did not bring in an account of
bis effects, was to be deprived of his estate, to be beat
with rods, and publicly sold for a slave. Servius, from
these particular accounts, which might be pretty well
relied on, undertook to ease the poor by burdening the
rich, and at the same time to please the l itter by in¬
creasing their power.
I divi ion enc^ ^ie divided the Roman people into six
o lie peo- c^asses : fir:5t class consisted of those whose estates
j int|> and effects amounted to the value of 10,000 drachmae,
c ses. or 100,000 ases of brass; the first way of computing be¬
ing used by the Greeks, and the latter by the Ladns.- Eome.
This class was subdivided into 80 centime', or com-
panics of foot. To these Servius joined 18 centuries
of Roman knights, who fought on horseback ; and ap¬
pointed this considerable body of horsemen to be at
the head of the first class, because the estates of these
knights, without all doubt, exceeded the sum necessary
to be admitted into it. However, the public supplied
them with horses; for which a tax was laid upon wi¬
dows, who wTere exempt from all other tributes. This
first class, including infantry and cavalry, consisted of
98 centuries. The second class comprehended those
whose estates were valued at 7500 drachmae, or 75,000
ases of brass. It was subdivided into 20 centuries, all
foot. To these were added two centuries of carpen¬
ters, smiths, and other artificers. In the third class
were those who were esteemed worth 5000 drachmae,
or 50,000 ases. This class was subdivided into 20 cen¬
turies. The fourth class was of those whose effects
were rated at the value of 2500 drachmae, or 25,000
ases, and was divided into 20 centuries ; to which were
added two other centuries of trumpets and blowers of
the horn, who supplied the whole army with this mar¬
tial music. The fifth class included those only whose
whole substance did not amount to more than 1250
drachmae, or 12,500 ases; and this class was divided
into 30 centuries. The sixth class comprehended all
those who were not worth so much as those of the fifth
class: they exceededgn number any other class, but ne¬
vertheless were reckoned but as one century.
The king drew from these regulations all the ad¬
vantages he had expected. Levies for the army were
no longer raised by tribes, nor were taxes laid at so
much a-head as formerly, but all was levied by centu¬
ries. When, for instance, an army of 20,000 men, or
a large supply of money, was wanted for the war, each
century furnished its quota both of men and money:
so that the first class, which contained more centuries,
though fewer men, than all the others together, furnish¬
ed more men and more money for the public service
than the whole Roman state besides. And by this
means the Roman armies consisted for the most part
of the rich citizens of Rome; who, as they had lands
and effects to defend, fought with more resolution,
while their riches enabled them to bear the expence
of a campaign. As it was but just the king should
make the first class amends for the weight laid on it,
he gave it almost the whole authority in public affairs ;
changing the comitia by curiae, in which every man
gave his vote, into comitia by centuries, in which the
majority was not reckoned by single persons, but by
centuries, how few soever there might be in a century.
Hence the first class, v/hich contained more centuries
than the other five taken together, had every thing at
its disposal. The votes of this class were first taken ;
and if the [)8 centuries happened to agree, or only 97
of them, the affair was determined ; because these made
the majority of tiie 193 centuries which composed the
six classes. If they disagreed, then the second,the third,
and the other classes in their order, were called to vote,
though there was very seldom any occasion to go so
low as the fourth class for a majority of voles; so that
by this good order Servius brought the affairs of the
State to be determined by the judgment of the most
considerable
ROM
£
d5
The cen¬
sus and lit'
fcUuna.
€7
Reforms
the roj’al
power.
Considerable citizens, who understood the public interest
much better than the blind multitude, liable to be im¬
posed upon, and easily corrupted.
And now the people being thus divided into several
orders, according to the census or valuation of their
estates, Servius resolved to solemnize this prudent regu¬
lation by some public act of religion, that it might be
the more respected and the more lasting. Accordingly,
all the citizens were commanded to appear, on a day ap¬
pointed, in theCampus Martins, which was a large plain,
lying between the city and the Tiber, formerly conse¬
crated by Romulus to the god Mars. Here the centuries
being drawn up in battalia, a solemn lustration or expia¬
tory sacrifice was performed in the name of all the people.
The sacrifice consisted of a sow, a sheep, and a bull,
whence it took the name of suovetauriiia. The whole
ceremony was called lustrum, a luendo ; that is, from*
paying, expiating, clearing, or perhaps from the goddess
Lua, who presided over expiations, and to whom Servius
had dedicated a temple. This wise king considering,
that in the space of five years there might be such altera¬
tions in the fortunes of private persons as to entitle some
to be raised to a higher class, and reduce others to a
lower, enjoined that the census should be renewed every
five years. As the census was usually closed by the lus-
ti um, the Romans henceforth began to compute time by
lustrums, each lustrum containing the space of five years.
However, the lustrums wrere not abvays regularly ob¬
served, but often put off, though the census had been
made in the fifth year. Some writers are of opinion,
that Servius at this time coined the first money that had
ever appeared at Rome; and add, that the circumstances
of the lustrum probably led him to stamp the figures of
43
The freed-
nun.
t * 1 1 X ^ ^ Hit/ LUL Co vJJ.
tiie animals there slain on pieces of brass of a certain
weight.
126 ] R 0 M
dinary suits to the senate, and reserved that only of state-
crimes to himself.
All things being now regulated at home, both in the
city and country, Servius turned his thoughts abroad,
and formed a scheme for attaching the Sabines and La¬
tins to the Romans, by such social ties as should be
strengthened by religion. He summoned the Latin and
Sabine cities to send their deputies to Rome, to consult
about an affair of great importance. When they were
come, he proposed to them the building of a temple in
honour of Diana, where the Latins and Sabines should
meet once a-year, and join with the Romans in offeiing
sacrifices to that goddess: that this festival would be fol¬
lowed by a council, in which all disputes between the
cities should be amicably determined; that there proper
measures should be taken to pursue their common inter¬
est; and, lastly, in order to draw the common people thi¬
ther, a fair should be kept, at which every one might
furnish himself with what he wanted. The king’s de¬
sign met with no opposition: the deputies only added to
it, that the temple should be an inviolable asylum for
the united nations; and that all the cities should contri¬
bute towards the expence of building it. It being left
to the king to choose a proper place for it, he pitched
upon the Aventine hill, where the temple was built,
and assemblies annually held in it. The laws which
were to be observed in these general meetings, w’ere en¬
graved on a pillar of brass, and wrere to be seen in
Augustus’s time, in the Latin tongue, but in Greek
characters.
But now Servius was grown old; and the ambition of
Tarquin his son-in-law revived in proportion as the king
advanced in years. His wife used her utmost endeavours
km
48
Emlearoutj
to attach
tl'e Sabiau
au(l fatiiu
to the Ru.
tuaus.
so
to check the rashness and fury of her husband, and to
ck^7!n
■ those whom the mtfortm^of'1 I‘in » Pri™te to the »«* vilknoue
4$
Wicked it
trigues of
liis daugh¬
ter and sot
in-kw.
or those whom the misfortunes of an unsuccessful war
had reduced to slavery, thought that such of them as
had by long and faithful services deserved and obtained
their freedom, were much more worthy of being made
Roman cit-zens, than untractable vagabonds from fo¬
reign countries, who were admitted without distinction.
He therefore gave the freedmen their choice, either to
return to their own country, or continue at Rome. Those
“> continue there, he divided into four tribes,
and settled them within the city; and though they were
distinguished from the plebeians by their old naml of/,'.
fre’f,.,wr * ^ ^ 0,1 the P^ileges of
free citizens. The senate took offence at the regard
attempts. She was continually lamenting her fate in
being tied to such an indolent husband, and wishing she
had either continued unmarried, or were become a wd-
dow\ Similitude of temper and manners, formed, by de¬
grees, a great intimacy between her and Tarquin, At
length she proposed nothing less to him than the murder¬
ing of her father, sister, and husband, that they two
might meet and ascend the throne together. Soon after,
they paved their w^ay to an incestuous marriage, he by
poisoning his wife, and she her husband ; and then had
tie assurance to ask the king’s and queen’s consent to
eir marriage. Servius and Tarquinia, though they
which the king”showed"to such ZZZellelhoZl ^ ^ giV? * ^ siknt> « too muclf indul-
but lately shaken off their fetters ; but Servius bv a ^nCC.° a dai^8h^r in whom now Was their only hope
most humane and judicious discourse, entirelv appealed first Cnminal nuPtiaIs were only the
the fathers, who passed his institution into a law which a nbitinn ST?^8 & ^ gr.eater inifluity- The wicked
subsisted ever after. ambition of the new married couple first showed itself
The wise king, having thus established order am on a kil1? : f<?r they publicly declared, that the
the people, undertook at last to reform the royal power whn ^ 5 * oriffto them ; that Servius was an usurper,
itself; his equity, whichwas the main snrinfPrtC«np,v-„ i eJug appointed tutor to Tarquin’s grandchildren,
had deprived his pupils of their inheritance; that it was
Sutiom the m*in sPringof allMsre-
- lions, leading him to act contrary to his own interest
™ »° -fee one hulf of the royal authority £ the
p bhc good. His predecessorshadreservedt®themselves
the cognizance of all causes both public and privSe but
m iTto^f nhm§ the ulltieS °f his °ffice to° mPuch f°r one
-man to discharge well, committed ,the cognizance of or!
PlrvU vxici* nmemance; mat it was
3V’m or;m °Jd mal1’ who was but bttle able to sup-
whn ^ ^ ° lUlkkc aHalrsJ t° give place to a prince
who was of a mature age, &c.
surfin Th°-m ^ervius had taken great plea-
wereeasilv C Urin^ whole time of his reign,
were easily gamed ovor to Tarquin’s party; and, by the
help
ft o M f 127 ] K O M
help of money, many of the poorer citizens were also
brought over to his interest. The king, being informed
Of their treasonable practices, endeavoured todissuadehis
daughter and son-in-law from such proceedings, which
might end in their ruin ; and exhorted them to wait for
the kingdom till his deatli. But they,despising his coun¬
sels and paternal admonitions, resolved to lay their claim
before the senate; whichServiuswas obliged tosummon:
so that the affair came to a formal process. Tar quin
reproached his father-in-law with having ascended the
throne without a previous interregnum ; and with hav¬
ing bought the votes of the people, and despised the
suffrages of the senate. He then urged his own right
of inheritance to the (frown, and injustice of Servius,
who, being only his guardian, had kept possession of it,
when he himself was of an age to govern. Servius an¬
swered, that he had been lawfully elected by the people;
and that, if there could be a hereditary right to the
kingdom, the sons of Ancus had a much better one
than the grandsons of the late king, who must himself
have been an usurper. He then referred the whole to
an assembly of the people ; which being immediately
proclaimed all over the city, the forum was soon filled ;
and Servius harangued the multitude in such a manner
as gained all their affections. They all cried out with
one voice, Let Servius reign ; Jet him continue to make
the Romans happy. Amidst their confused clamours,
these words were likewise heard : Let Tarquin perish ;
let him die ; let us kill him. This language frightened
him so, that he retired to his house in great haste;
while the king was conducted back to his palace with
the acclamations of the people.
The ill success of this attempt cooled Tarquin’s ar¬
dent desire of reigning ; but his ambition made him act
a new part. He undertook to regain the favour of his
father-in-law by caresses, submissions, and protestations
of a sincere regard and affection for him ; insomuch
that the king, who judged of the policy of others from
his own, was sincerely reconciled to him, and tranquil¬
lity re-established in the royal family. But it was not
long ere Tarquin, roused by the continual reproaches
of Ins wife, began to renew his intrigues among the
senators ; of whom he had no sooner gained a consider¬
able party, than he clothed himself in the royal robes,
and causing the fasces to be carried before him by some
of his domestics, crossed the Roman forum, entered the
temple where the senate used to meet, and seated him¬
self on the throne. Such of the senators as were in
the faction he found already in their places (for he had
given them private notice to be there early) ; and the
rest, being summoned to assemble in Tarquin’s name,
made what haste they could to the appointed place,
thinking that Servius was dead, since Tarquin assumed
the title and functions of king. When they were all
assembled, Tarquin made a long speech, reviling his
fathei-in-law, and repeating the invectives against him,
which he had so often uttered, calling him a slave, an
usurpei, a favourer of the populace, and an enemy to
the senate and patricians. When he was yet speaking,
Seryius arrived ; and, rashly giving way to the motions
of his^courage, without considering his strength, drew
near tne throne, to pull Tarquin down from it. This
raised a great noise in the assembly, which drew the
people into the temple; but nobody ventured to part
tne two rivals. Tarquin, therefore, being more strong
and vigorous seized the old man by the waist, and Reufe*
hurrying him through the temple,threw him down from
the top of the steps into the forum. The king, who
was grievously wounded, raised himself up with some
difficulty: but all his friends had abandoned him ; only
two or three of the people, touched with compassion,.
lent him their arms to conduct him to his palace.
As they were leading him on slowly, the cruel
Tullia appeared in the forum, whither she’ had hasten¬
ed in her chariot on the first report of what had passed
in the senate. She found her husband on the top of
the steps of the temple; and, transported with joy, was
the first who saluted him king. The example was im¬
mediately followed by the senators of Tarquin’s party.
Nor was this enough for the unnatural daughter; she
took aside her husband, and suggested to him, that he
would never be safe so long as the usurper of his crown
was alive. Hereupon Tarquin instantly dispatched some „
of his domestics to take away the remains of the un-
fortunate king’s life. The orders for the wicked par- murdered,
ricide were no sooner given than Tullia mounted her
chariot again, with an air of triumph, to return home.
The way to her house was through a narrow street,
called vicus cyprius, or the good street* There the assas¬
sins had left the king’s body, which was still panting.
At this sight, the charioteer, struck with horror, check¬
ed his horses, and made a stop: but Tullia forced him
to go on ; and the blood of the father is said to have
dyed the wheels of the chariot, and even the clothes of
tlie inhuman daughter, whence the street was called
ever after vicus sceleratus. ^
The new king proved a most despotic and cruel ty- Tarquin II.
rant; receiving, in the very beginning of his reign, the a cruel
surname of proud, on account of his capricious humour rant•
and haughty behaviour. All controversies whatever
were decided by himself and his friends; and he ba¬
nished, fined, and even executed, whom he pleased.
The census and lustrum, the division of citizens into
classes and centuries, were abolished; and all kinds of
assemblies, even those for amusement and recreation,
were prohibited, both in town and country. Nay, to
such a height did Tarquin carry his insolence and ty¬
ranny, that the most virtuous of the senators went into
voluntary banishment; while many of those who remain¬
ed were cut off on various pretences, that the king
might enjoy their estates.
Tarquin could not but be sensible of the extreme dan¬
ger in which he stood by losing the affections of his
people in such a manner. He therefore provided a suf¬
ficient number of soldiers, by way of guard, to prevent
attempts upon his person ; and gave his daughter to
Octavius Mamilius, one of the most considerable men
among the Latins, in order to strengthen his interest
by this foreign alliance, in case of a revolt among his
subjects. ^ Mamilius accordingly procured many friends
to his father-in-law, but he had like to have lost them
again by his haughty behaviour. He had desired the
Latins to call a national council at Ferentinum, where
he would meet them on a day appointed by himself.
The Latins accordingly met; but after waiting for se¬
veral hours, Tarquin did not appear. On this, one
Turnus Herdonius, an enterprising and eloquent man,
who hated Tarquin, and was jealous of Mamilius, made
a speech, in which he inveighed against the haughty
behaviour of Tarquin, set forth the contempt which he
had
' Borne.
W*- y—ae*''
A2
His infa¬
mous stra¬
tagem to
destroy
Herdonius.
institutes
the Feria;
Latin®.
54
Reduces
Gabii by
treachery.
It 0 M [ l
had put upon the Latins, and concluded with desiring
the council to break up and return home without ta¬
king any further notice of him. Mamilius, however,
prevailed upon them to return the day following; w hen
Tarquin made his appearance, and told the assembly
that his design in calling them together wras to claim
his right of commanding the Latin armies, which lie
said was derived from his grandfather, but which he
desired to be confirmed to him by them. These words
were scarce out of his mouth, when Herdonius, rising
up, entered into a detail of Tarquin’s tyranny and ar¬
bitrary behaviour at Rome, which he said, the Latins
would soon feel in an equal degree, if they complied
with Tarquin’s demand. To this speech the king
made no reply at that time, but promised to answer him
next day. In the mean time, how'ever, he bribed the
domestics of Herdonius to admit among his baggage a
large quantity of arms: and then, telling the Latins
that Herdonius’s opposition proceeded only from Tar¬
quin’s having refused him his daughter in marriage, ac¬
cused him of having laid a plot to cut off all the depu¬
ties there present, and to usurp a jurisdiction over the
Latin cities; as a proof of which he appealed to the
arms hid among the baggage of Herdonius. The ac¬
cused, conscious of his innocence, desired that his bag¬
gage might be searched; w hich being accordingly done,
and the arms found, he was hurried away without be¬
ing allowed to make any defence, and thrown into a
bason at the head of the spring of Ferentinum, where a
hurdle being laid upon him, and stones laid upon the
hurdle, he was pressed down into the water and drown¬
ed.
In consequence of this monstrous treachery, Tarquin
was looked upon by the Latins as their deliverer, and
declared general of the Latin armies ; soon after which,
the Hernici and twro tribes of the Volsci entered into
an alliance with him on the same terms. In order to
keep these confederates together, Tarquin, with their
consent, erected a temple to Jupiter Latialis on a hill
near the ruins of Alba, where he appointed certain
feasts called Ferice Latina; to be held on the 27th of
April, where the several nations wrere to sacrifice tosre-
ther, and on no account to commit any hostilities against
each other during their continuance. The king then
proceeded to malm war on the rest of the Volsci wrho
had refused to enter into an alliance with him. Some
depredations which they had committed in the territo¬
ries of the Latins served for a pretence to begin the
war; but as Tarquin had no confidence in the Romans,
his army was composed only of a small body of them
who were incorporated among the Latin auxiliaries.
How ever, he defeated the enemy, took one of their ci¬
ties by storm, and gave the booty to his soldiers. He
next turned his arms against the Sabines, whom he en¬
tirely defeated in twro engagements, and made the
whole nation tributary; for which exploits he decreed
himself two triumphs, and on his return to Rome he
employed the populace in finishing the sew-ers and
circus which had been begun by his grandfather Tar¬
quin I.
In the mean time, the -persecutions of Tarquin a-
gainst his own subjects daily drove some of the most-
considerable into banishment. A great number of pa¬
tricians took refuge in Gabii, a city of Latium about 13
miles from Rome; where the inhabitants, touched with
>8 ] R 0 M
compassion for their misfortunes, not only received them Rorcel
with kindness, but began a war with Tarquin on their
account. The Gabini seem to have been the most for¬
midable enemies whom the Romans had hitherto met
with; since 'Hrquin was obliged to raise a prodigious
bulwark to cover the city on the side of Gabii. The
war lasted seven years; during which time, by the mu¬
tual devastations committed by the two armies, a great
scarcity of provisions took place in Rome. The people
soon grew clamorous; and Tarquin being unable either
to quiet them, or to reduce the Gabini, fell upon the
following dishonourable and treacherous expedient. His
son Sextus Tarquinius pretended to be on very bad
terms with his father, and openly inveighed against him
as a tyrant; on w hich he was proclaimed a rebel, and
publicly beaten in the forum. This being reported at
Gabii, L>y persons sent thither on purpose, the inhabi¬
tants became very desirous of having Sextus among
them; and accordingly he soon went thither, having
previously obtained a solemn promise from the inhabi¬
tants never to deliver him up to his father. Here he
made frequent inroads into the Roman territories, and
always came back laden w ith spoil, his father sending
against him only such weak parties as must infallibly be
wnrsted. By this means he soon came to have such a
high degree of credit among the Gabini, that he wras
chosen general of their army, and wras as much master
at Gabii as Tarquin was at Rome. Finding then that
his authority w as sufficiently established, he dispatched
a slave to his father for instructions ; but the king, un¬
willing to return an explicit answ er, only took the mes¬
senger into the garden, where he struck off' the heads
of the tallest poppies. Sextus understood that by this
hint the king desired him to put to death the leading-
men in the city of Gabii, which he immediately put in
execution; and while the city was in confusion on ac¬
count of this massacre, he opened the gates to his fa¬
ther, w ho took possession of the city with all the pride
of a conqueror. The inhabitants dreaded every thing
from the haughty tyranny of the Roman monarch:
howrever, on this occasion he consulted his policy rather
than his revenge ; granted them their life, liberty, and
estates, and even entered into a treaty of alliance with
them. The articles were written on the hide of an ox,
which was still to be seen in the time of Augustus, in
the temple of Jupiter Fidius. After this, how ever, he
made his son Sextus king of Gabii; sending off also
his other two sons, Titus and Arunx, the one to build
a city at Signia, the other at Circaeum, a promontory
of the Tyrrhene sea, and both these to keep the Volsci
in awe.
For some time Tarquin now- enjoyed a profound
peace; the Romans, being accustomed to oppression
and the yoke of an imperious master, making no op¬
position to his will. During this interval Tarquin „ ^
met W'ith the celebrated adventure of the Sibyl *; 55
whose books were ever afterwards held in high estima- Books of
tion at Rome, and i arquin appointed two persons of the Sibyl
distinction to take care of them. These w-ere called
Duumviri: but their number was afterwards increased
to 10, when they were called Decemviri; and then to
15, when they w?ere termed Quindecemviri. At this
time also the written civil law had its origin among the 1
Romans; all the statutes enacted by the kings being
collected into one body; which, from Papirius the name
of
II 0 M [ :
Home, ef the collector, was called the Papitian law. The
temple of the Capitol was also finished ; for which pur¬
pose the most skilful architects and workmen were
brought from Hetruria, the populace being obliged to
5(. serve them in the most laborious parts,
wnfal of We now come to the important revolution which put
regal an end to the regal power at Rome, and introduced a
rer. new form of government, to which this city is allowed
to owe the greatest part of her grandeur. Tarquin, as
we have already seen, had left himself no friends among
the rich citizens, by reason of the oppression under
which he made them labour; and the populace were
equally disaffected on account of their being obliged to
labour in his public works. Among the many persons
of distinction who had been sacrificed to the avarice or
suspicions of Tarquin, was one M. Junius, who had
married the daughter of Tarquin I. This nobleman
had a son named L. Junius Bruins, who escaped the
cruelty of the tyrant by pretending to be an idiot,
which part he had ever since continued to act. Soon
after the finishing of the works above-mentioned, a vio¬
lent plague happening to break out at Rome, Tarquin
sent his sons Titus and Arunx to consult the oracle of
Delphi; and the princes took Brutus along with them,
to divert themselves with his pretended folly by the
way. Brutus chose for his offering to the Delphic A-
pollo a stick of elder, which occasioned much laugh¬
ter. However, he had the precaution to inclose a rod
of gold within the stick ; and to this probably it was
owing, that the priestess gave the princes the following
riddle, that he who should first kiss his mother should
succeed Tarquin in the government of Rome. This
answer had been given to their inquiries concerning the
succession ; upon which the two brothers either drew
lots which of them should kiss their mother at their re¬
turn, or agreed to do it at once, that both might reign
jointly : but Brutus, imagining the oracle had another
meaning, fell down and kissed the earth, the common
mother of all living. This, in all probability, the
priestess had meant; and had given the ans wer on pur¬
pose to have another proof of Brutus’s ingenuity, which
had already discovered itself, by his offering the elder
stick.
On the return of the princes to Rome, they found
their father engaged in a war with the Rutuli. The
treasury being exhausted by the sums which Tarquin
had expended in his public works, he had marched to
Ardea, the capital of that nation, which lay about 20
miles from Rome, in hopes of taking it without op¬
position. Contrary to his expectation, however, he
was obliged to besiege it in form : and this constrained
him to lay a heavy tax upon his subjects, which increa¬
sed the number of malcontents, and disposed everv thing
tor a revolt. As the siege was carried on very slowly,
the general officers frequently made entertainments for
one another in their quarters. One day, when Sextus
Tarquinius was entertaining his brothers, the conver¬
sation happened to turn upon their wives: every one
extolled the good qualities of his own; but Collatinus
restowed such extravagant praises on his Lucretia,
tnat the dispute ended in a kind of quarrel. It was
11011 resolved tliat they should mount their horses and
surprise their wives by their unexpected return. The
king’s daughters-in-law were employed in feasting and
diversion and seemed much disconcerted by the an-
Vol. XVIII. Part I, 1
29 ] 110 M
pearance of their husbands ; but Lucretia, though the ftoine>
night was f.r advanced, was found, with her maids
about her, spinning and working in wool. She was
not at all discomposed by the company whom her
husband brought with him, and they were all pleased
with the reception she gave them. As Lucretia was
Very beautiful, Sextus Tarquinius conceived a passion
for her, which resolving to satisfy at all events, he 51
soon returned to Collatia in the absence of Lucretia’s Lucretia,
husband, and was entertained by her with great civility rav sl,e<j "V
and respect. In the night time he entered Lucretia’s Sex^us JaF‘
apartment, and threatened her with immediate death if klilsTier-
she did not yield to his desires. But finding her not self,
to be intimidated w ith this menace, he told her, that,
if she still persisted in her refusal, he wmuld kill one of
her male slaves, and lay him naked by her when she
was dead, and then declare to all the wmrld that he had
only revenged the injury of Collatinus. On this the
virtuous Lucretia (who, it seems, dreaded prostitution
less than the infamy attending it), submitted to the de¬
sires of Sextus; but resolved not to outlive the violence
which had been offered her. She dressed herself in
mourning, and took a poniard under her robe, having
previously written to her husband to meet her at her fa¬
ther Lucretius's house, where she refused to discover
the cause of her grief except in a full assembly of her
friends and relations. Here, addressing herself to her
husband Collatinus, she acquainted him with the whole
affair ; exhorted him to revenge the injury ; and pro¬
tested that she would not outlive the loss of her honour.
Every one present gave her a solemn promise that they
would revenge her quarrel: but w hile they endeavoured
to comfort her, she suddenly stabbed herself to the heart
w ith the daggerwhich she had concealed under her robe.
See Chastity.
This extravagant action inflamed beyond measure the
minds of all present. Brutus, laying aside his pretend¬
ed folly, drew the bloody dagger out of Lucretia’s bo¬
dy; and, showing it to the assembly, swore by the blood
upon it that he would pursue Tarquin and his family
with fire and sword: nor would he ever suffer that or
any other family to reign in Rome. The same oath
wTas taken by all the company, who were so much sur¬
prised at the apparent transition of Brutus from folly
to wdsdom, that they did whatever he desired them.—
By his advice the gates of the city were shut, that no¬
body might go out of it to inform Tarquin of what
was going forward; which, as Lucretius had been left
governor of the city by Tarquin, was put in execution
without difficulty. The corps of Lucretia was then
exposed to public view: and Brutus having made a
speech to the people, in w hich he explained the myste¬
ry of his conduct in counterfeiting folly for many years
past, proceeded to tell them that the patricians w ere
come to a resolution of deposing the tyrant, and ex¬
horted them to concur in the same design. The people Ta>ruri
testified their approbation, and called out for arms ; but deposed.
Brutus did not think proper to trust them w ith arms
till he had first obtained a decree of the senate in fa¬
vour of the design. This was easily procured : the se¬
nate enacted that Tarquin had forfeited all the prero¬
gatives belonging to the regal authority, condemned
him and all his posterity to perpetual banishment, and
devoted to the gods of hell every Roman who should
hereafter, by word or deed, endeavour his restoration :
t R and
Jiome.
59
The fonn
of govern¬
ment chan¬
ged.
GO
Tultia
leaves
Home.
State of the
Roman em¬
pire at tliis
sime.
R 0 M [ 130 ] ROM
and this decree was unanimously confirmed by the
curias.
Tarquin being thus deposed, the form of government
became the next object. Lucretius was for the present
declared Inter rex; but Brutus being again consulted,
declared, that though it was by no means proper for
the state to be without supreme magistrates, yet it was
equally necessary that the power should not be centered
in one man, and that it should not be perpetual. - For
this reason, he proposed, that two magistrates, called
consuls, should l)e elected annually ; thatthe stateshoukl
thenceforth have the name of republic ; that the ensigns
of royalty should be abolished ; and that the only en¬
signs of consular dignity should be an ivory chair, a
white robe, and 12 lictors for their attendants. How¬
ever, that he might not utterly abolish the name of
king, he proposed that this title should be given to him
who had the superintendency of religious matters, who
should thenceforth be called rex sacrorum, or king of sa¬
cred things.
The scheme of Brutus being approved of, Brutus and
Collatinus were proposed by Lucretius as the two first
consuls, and unanimously accepted by the people, who
thought it was impossible to find more implacable ene¬
mies to the Tarquins. They entered on their office
in the year 50S B. C. •, and Tullia, perceiving that now
all was lost, thought proper to leave the city, and re¬
tire to her husband at Axdea. She was suffered to de¬
part without molestation, though the populace hooted
at her, and cursed her as she went along. Tarquin, in
the mean time, being informed by some who had gone
out of Rome before the gates were shut, that Brutus
was raising commotions to his prejudice, returned in
haste to the city, attended only by his sons and a few
friends; but finding the gates shut, and the people in
arms on the walls, he returned again to the camp : but
here again, to his surprise, he found that the consuls
had taken the opportunity of gaining over the army to
their interest; so that, being refused admittance into
the camp also, he was forced to fly for refuge, at the
age of !&, with his wife and three sons, to Gabii, where
Sextus had been made king. Here he continued for
some time : but not finding the Latins very forward to
revenge his cause, he retired into Hetruria; where, be¬
ing the country of his mother’s family, lie hoped to
find mote friends, anda readierassistanceforattempting
the recovery of his throne.
The Romans now congratulated themselves on their
happy deliverance from tyranny. However, as Tar-1'
quin had by his policy procured himself many friends
abroad, these nowbecame enemies to the Roman name;
and, by the defection of their allies, the Roman domi¬
nions were left in much the same state as they had been
in the time of Romulus. The territory of Rome had
alwaysbeen con fined to a very’narrow compass. Though
almost constantly victorious in war for 243 years, they
had not yet gained land enough to supply their city
with provisions. The main strength of the state lay in
the number of the citizens of Rome ; which the custom
of transplating the inhabitants of the conquered cities
thither had so prodigiously increased, that it put the
Romans in a condition of usurping the authority over
other nations, the most inconsiderable of which had an
extent of territory far exceeding theirs. By frequent
depredations and incursions they so harassed the petty
states of Latium and Hetruria, that many of them were knare,
constrained to enter into treaties with Rome, by which
they obliged themselves to furnish her with auxiliaries
whenever she should be pleased to invadeand pillage the
lands of her other neighbours. Submissions ofthiskind
the Romanscalied makingalliances with them, and these
useful alliances supplied the ■want of a larger territory;
but now, upon the change of her government, all the
allies of Romeforsook her at once, and either stood neu¬
ter, or espoused the cause of the banished king ; so that
she was now obliged to maintain her liberties asshe best
might.
ihe new consuls in the mean time took the most ef¬
fectual methods they could for securing the libeities of
the republic. The army which had been employed in
the siege of Ardea marched home under the conduct
ot Herrainius and Horatius, who concluded a truce
with the Ardeates for 15 years. The consuls then
again assembled the people by centuries, and had the
decree of Tarquin’s banishment confirmed ; a rex sacro¬
rum was elected to preside at the sacrifices, and many
of the laws of Servius Tullius were revived, to the great
joy of the people, who were thus restored to their an¬
cient right of voting in all important affairs. Tarquin,
however, resolved not to part with his kingdom on such
easy terms. Having wandered from city to city in or¬
der to move compassion, he at length made Tarquinii
the seat of his residence ; where he engaged the inhabi¬
tants to send an embassy to Rome, with a modest, sub¬
missive letter from himself, directed to the Roman peo- ^
pie. The ambassadors represented in such strong terms Tarquin
to the senate how reasonable it was to let the king be write* t
heard before he was condemned, and the clanger which t^le Ron
threatened the state from the neighbouring powers if fco^e’
that common justice were refused, that the consuls in¬
clined to bring these agents before the people, and to
leave the decision thereof to the curia;; but Valerius
who haJ been very active in the revolution, strenuously
opposed this, and by his influence in the senate got it
pi evented. As that illustrious body had been greatly
thinned by the murders committed by Tarquin, new
members were elected from among the knights, and the
ancient number of 300 again completed. The old se¬
nators had been called patres, or “ fathers and as
the names of the new ones were now written on the same
roll, the whole body received the name of paires con-
scripti. 1
1 he old king was not to be foiled by a single at¬
tempt. He prevailed on the inhabitants of Tarquinii
to send a second embassy to Rome, under pretence of
demanding the estates of the exiles, but with private
instructions to get the consuls assassinated. The resto-
Tction of the estates of the exiles was opposed by Bru¬
tus, hut Collatinus was for complying with it; where¬
upon Biutus accused his colleague of treachery, and of
a design to bring back the tyrant. The matter was
then referred to the people, where it was carried by one
vote in favour of the Tarquins. But whilst the peopje . C3,
"’ire employed m loading carriages with the effects ot ,AJTt
the exiles, and in selling what could not be carried off, i„ Ms
the ambassadors found means to draw some of the near- vour.
est relationsof the consuls into a plot with them. These
were three young noblemen of the Aquilian family (the
sons ot Collatinus’s sister), and two of the Vitellii
(whose sister Brutus had married); and these last en¬
gaged
v
ROM [ 131 ]
R 0 M
I ne. jjaged Titus and Tiberius, the two 90113 of Brutus, in
v yW the sime conspiracy. They all bound themselves by
solemn oaths, with the dreadful ceremony of drinking
the blood of a murdered man and touching his entrails.
They met at the house of the Aquilii, where they
wrote letters to Tarquin and gave them to the ambas¬
sadors. But though they used all imaginable precau¬
tion, their proceedings were overheard by one Vindi-
■ .4 ci us a slave, who immediately communicated the whole
Bt is to Valerius : upon which all the criminals were appre-
uistwo bended. Brutus stood judge over his own sons; and,
of own notwithstanding the intercession of the whole assembly,
jn and the tears and lamentations of his children, com-
r ’ manded them to be beheaded ; nor would he depart
till he saw the execution of the sentence. Having per¬
formed this piece of heroic barbarity, he quitted the
tribunal and left Collatinus to perform the rest. Col-
latinus, however, being inclined to spare his nephews,
allowed them a day to clear themselves; and caused
Vindicius, the only witness against them, to be deliver¬
ed up to his masters. This roused the indignation of
the people in general, especially of Valerius, who had
promised to protect the witness, and therefore he re¬
fused to deliver him up to the lictors. The multitude
called aloud for Brutus to return; which when he had
done, he told them that he had executed his two sons
in consequence of his own paternal authority overthem,
but that it belonged to the people to determine the
fate of the rest. Accordingly, by a decree of the curias,
all the delinquents suffered as traitors except the am¬
bassadors, who were spared out of respect to their cha¬
racter. The slave Vindicius had his libertv granted
him : and was presented with 25,000 ases of bras-', in
value about SOI. 14s. 7d. of our money. The decree
for restoring the estates of the exiled Tarquins was an¬
nulled, their palaces were destroyed, and their lands di¬
vided among the indigent people. The public only
retained a piece of ground, near the Campus Martins,
•which the king had usurped. This they consecrated
to Mars, and it afterwards became a common field
where the Roman youth exercised themselves in run¬
ning and wrestling. But after this consecration, the
superstitious Romans scrupled to use the corn which
they found there ready reaped to their hands : so that,
with some trees, it was thrown into the Tiber; and the
water being low, it stopped in the middle of the river,
and began to form a fine island named afterwards Insula
Sacra.
The behaviour of Brutus towards his two sons struck
such a terror into the Romans, that scarce any person
durst oppose him ; and therefore,ashe hated Collatinus,
> lies lis °Penly accused him before the people, and without
* agu» 18 c®remony deposed him from the consulship, banishing
/ itinus. at same t™6 f1'0*11 Rome. The multitude ac¬
quiesced in every thing he said, and refused to hear
Collatinus speak in his own defence; so that the con¬
sul was on the point of being driven out with ignominy
and disgrace, when Lucretiusinterposed, ami prevailed
upon Brutus to allow his colleague quietly to resign the
fasces, and retire of his own accord from the city. Bru¬
tus then, to remove all suspicions of personal enmity,
procured him a present of 20 talents out of the public
treasury, to which he added five of his own. Collati¬
nus then retired to Lavinium, where he lived in peace,
and at last died of old age.
After the abdicstion of Collatinus, Valerius was cho¬
sen in his room; and as his temper agreed much belter
with Brutus than that of Collatinus, the two consuls li¬
ved in great harmony. Nothing, however, could make
the dethroned king forego the hope of recovering his
kingdom by force. He first engaged the Volsci and
Tavquinienses to join their forces in order to supporthis
rights. The consuls marched out without delay to meet
them. Brutus commanded the horse and Valerius tbe
foot, drawn up in a square battalion. The two armies
being in sight of each other, Brutus advanced with his
cavalry, at the same time that Arunx, one of Tarquin’s
sons, was coming forward with the enemy’s horse, the
king himself followed with the legions. Arunx no
sooner discovered Brutus, than he made towards him
with all the fury of an enraged enemy. Brutus ad¬
vanced towards him with no less speed ; and as both
were actuated only by motives of hatred, without
thoughts of self-preservation, both of them were pierced
through with their lances. The death of the two ge¬
nerals served as a prelude to the battle; which continued
with the utmost fury till night, when it could not be
known which side had got the victory, or which had
lost the greatest number of men. A report was spread,
however, that a voice had been heard out of a neigh¬
bouring wood, declaring the Romans conquerors; and
this, probably a stratagem of Valerius, operated so
powerfully on the superstitious minds of the Volsci, that
they left their camp in confusion, and returned to their
own country. It is said that Valeidus, having caused
the dead to be numbered, found, that the Volsci had lost
11,300 men, and the Romans only one short of that
number.
Valerius being left without a colleague in the con¬
sulship, and having for some reasons delayed to choose
one, began to be suspected by the people of aspiring
at the sovereignty; and these suspicions were in seme
measure countenanced by his building a fine house on
the steep part of the hill Palatinus, which overlooked
the forum, and was by them considered as a citadel.
But of this Valerius was no sooner informed, than he
caused this house to be pulled down, and immediately
called an assembly of the people for the election of a
consul, in which heleftthem entirely free. They chose
Lucretius; and, being ashamed of having suspected Va¬
lerius, they complimented him with a large ground-plot
in an agreeable place, where they built him a house.
The new consul died a few days after his promotion, so
that Valerius was once more left sole governor. In the
interval betwixt the death of Lucretius and the choice
of another consul, Valerius gave the people so many
striking proofs of his attachment to their interest, that
they bestowed upon him the surname of Poplicola, 01*
“ popularnor was he ever called by another name
afterwards.
When Poplicola’s year of consulship expired, the Ro¬
mans thought fit, in consequence of the critical situa¬
tion of affairs, to elect him a second time, ard joined
with him T. Lucretius, the brother of the famous Lu-
cietia. They began with restoring the census and lu¬
strum ; and found the number of Roman citizens, at or
above the age of puberty, to amount to 130,000. As
they apprehended an attack from the Latins on ac¬
count ot Tarquin, they were at great pains to fortify
Sinquirinum or Singliuria, an important pest on that
li 2 side
Rome.
66
The Volsri
ami Tar-
quiniemes
declare in
favour of*
Tarquin.
6T
Brutus ami
Amnx kill
each other.
it o M [ laa ] ii o M
Home.
6S
Forsena in¬
vades the
Homan ter¬
ritories,
and de¬
feats tiieir
army.
70
Bravery of
lloratius
(lodes.
side. Contrary to their expectations, however, the La¬
tins remained quiet; but a haughty embassy was re¬
ceived from Forsena king oi Clusium in Hetruria, com¬
manding them either to take back the Tarquins to
Rome, or to restore them their estates. To the first
of these demands the consuls returned an absolute re¬
fusal; and, as to the second, they answered, that it was
impract cable ; a part of those estates having been con¬
secrated to Mars, and the rest divided among indigent
people, from whom they could not be recovered. The
imminent danger which now threatened the city, pro¬
cured Valerius the honour of a third consulship; and
with h m was joined Horatius Pulvilius, who had en¬
joyed the dignity for a few months before in the inter¬
val betwixt the death of Lucretius and the expiration of
the first consulate.
While the Romans were making the most vigorous
preparations for defence, Porsena, attended by his son
Arunx and the exiles, marched towards the city at the
head of a formidable army, which was quickly joined
by a considerable body of Latins under Mamilius, the
son-in-law of Tarquin. The consuls and the senate
took all imaginable care to supply the common people
with provisions, lest famine should induce them to open
the gates to Tarquin; and they desired the country
people to lodge their effects in the fort Janiculum,
which overlooked the city, and which was the only for¬
tified place possessed by the Romans on that side the
Tiber. Porsena, however, soon drove the Romans out
of this fort; upon which the consuls made all their
troops pass the river, and drew them up in order of
battle to defend the bridge, while Porsena advanced to
engage them. The victory wTas a long time doubtful;
but at last the Romans fled. Horatius Codes, nephew
to the consul, with Sp. Lavtiusand T. Herminius, who
had commanded the right wing, posted themselves at
the entrance of the bridge, and for a long time bravely
defended it; but at last, the defensive arms of Lartius
and Herminius being broken, they retired ; and then
Horatius desiring them to advise the consuls from him
to cut the bridge at the other end, he for a while su¬
stained the attack of the enemy alone. At last, being
wounded in the thigh, and the signal given that the
bridge was a’most broken down, heleapedinto the river,
and swam across it through a shower of darts. The
Piomans, in token of gratitude for this eminent service,
erected a statue to him in the temple of Vulcan, gave
him as much land as he himself with one yoke of oxen
could plough in one day; and each of the inhabitants,
to the number of 300,000, gave him the value of as
much food as each consumed in a day. But notwith¬
standing all this, as he had lost one eye, and from his
wounds continued lame throughout the remainder of
his life, these defects prevented his ever being raised
to the consulate, or invested with any military com¬
mand.
The city was not yet fully invested; but as it was
very difficult to find provisions for such a multitude,
the inhabitants soon began to be in want. Porsena
.bfc'ing informed of their difficulties, told them that he
would supply them with provisions if they would take
back their old masters ; but to this they replied, that
hunger was aless evil than slavery and oppression. The
constancy of the Romans, however, was on the point
£>f failing, when a young patrician, named Mulius Cor-
dus, with the consent of the senate and consuls, under- Rome,
took to assassinate Porsena. Pie got access to the Pie-15 -y-W
trurian camp, diguised like a peasant, and made his 71
way to the king’s tent. It happened to be the day on Attempt of
which the troops were all reviewed and paid; and Por- ?tuti’usCoN
sena s secretary, magnificently dressed, was sitting cn ginatepw%
the same tribunal with the king. Mutius, mistaking 8ena.
him for Porsena, instantly leaped upon the tribunaland
killed him. He then attempted to make his escape;
but being seized and brought back, he owned his de¬
sign ; and with a countenance expressive of desperate
rage and disappointment, thrust his hand which had
missed the blow into a pan of burning coals which stood
by, and there held it for a considerable time. On this,
Porsena,changinghisresentment intoadmiration, grac¬
ed him his life and liberty, and even restored him the
dagger with whi. h he intended to have stabbed him¬
self. Mutius took it with his left hand, having lost the
use of the other; and from this time had the name of
Sccevola, or “ left-handed.” He then, in order to in¬
duce Porsena to break up the sier e, invented a story that
800 young Romans, all of them as resolute as himself,
had sworn to take away the life of the king of Hetruria,
or to perish in the attempt. This had the desired ef¬
fect ; Porsena sent deputies to Rome, whose only de¬
mands were, that the Romans should restore the estates
of the Tarquins, or give them an equivalent, and give
back the seven small towns which had been formerly
taken from the Veientes. The latter of these demands
was cheerfully complied with ; but the former was still
refused, until Porsena should hear the strong reasons they
had to urge against it. A truce being agreed on, de¬
puties were sent to the Hetrurian camp to plead the
Roman cause against the Tarquins, ana with them ten
youngmen, and as many virgin?, by way of hostagesfor
performing the other article.
The reception which Porsena gave the deputies rais-
e;l the jealousy of the Tarquins; who still retaining
their ancient pride, refused to admit Porsena for a judge
between them and the Romans. But the king, with¬
out any regard to their opposition, resol veil to satisfy
himself, by an exact inquiry, whether the protection he
had given the Tarquins was just. But while the cause
was ready tobe opened before the Roman deputies, news
were brought that the young women whom the Romans
had sent as hostages had ventured to swim across the ^
Tiber, and were returned to Rome. They had gone to Adventure
bathe in the river, and Claelia happened to turn her of Clselis*
eyes towards her native city, that sight raised in her a
desire of returning to it. She therefore ventured to
swim across the river; and having encouraged her com¬
panions to follow her, they all got safe to the opposite
shore, and returned to their fathers houses. The return
of the hostages gave the consul Poplicola great uneasi¬
ness ; he was afraid lest this rash actionmight be imput¬
ed to want of fidelity in the Romans. To remove there¬
fore all suspicions, he sent a deputation to the Hetrurian
camp, assuring the king that Rome had no share in the
foolish attempt of the young women; and promising to
send them immediately back to the camp from whence
they had fled. Porsena was easily appeased ; but the ^ 1
news of the speedy return of the hostages being known Treacherjr
in the camp, the Tarquins, without any regard, to the of the
truce, or respect to the king their protector, lay in am- quirs.
bush on the road to surprise them. Poplicola having
pat
ROM [ 133
put himself at the head of the Roman troops who escort¬
ed them, sustained the attack of the Tarquins, though
sudde i and unexpected, till his daughter Valeria rode
full speed to the Hetrurian camp, and gave notice of the
clanger her father and companions were in ; and then
Arunx, the king’s son, flying with a great body of ca¬
valry to their relief, put the aggressors to the rout.
This notorious piece of treachery in the Tarquins
gave Porsena strong suspicions of the badness of their
cause. He therefore assembled the chief commanders
of the Hetrurians; and having heard in their presence
the complaints of the Romans, and the justification of
their proceedings against the Tai quins,he was so struck
with horror at the recital of the crimes the Tarquins
were charged with, that he immediately ordered them
to leave his camp; declaring that he renounced his al¬
liance with them, and would no longer continue the
hospitality he had shewn them. He then commanded
the ten young virgins to he brought before him, and in¬
quired who was the first authorand chief manager of the
enterprise. They all kept silence, till Claelia herself,
with an air of intrepidity, confessed that she alone was
guilty, and that she had encouraged the others by her
advice. Upon this the king, extolling her resolution
above the bravery of Horatius and the intrepidity of
Mutius, made her a present of a fine horse, with sump¬
tuous furniture. After this he concluded a peace with
the Romans, and restored to them all their hostages ;
declaring, that their bare word was to him a sufficient
security for the performance of the articles,
elieves And now Porsena being about to return to Clusium,
gave, before his departure, a further testimony of his re¬
spect and friendship for the Romans. He knew that
Rome was greatly distressed fib want of provisions; but
being afraid to offend the inhabitants by relieving them
in a direct manner, he ordered his soldiers to leave be¬
hind them their tents and provisions, and to carry no¬
thing with them but their arms. As his camp abound¬
ed with all sorts of provisions, Rome was hereby much
relieved in her wants. The moveables end corn of the
Hetrurians were sold by auction to private persons;
and on this occasion the Romans took up the custom
of making a proclamation by a herald, whenever any
effects belonging to the public were to be sold in the
following words. These are Porsena’s goods. The de¬
sign of this was to preserve the memory of that prince’s
kindness. The senate, not satisfied with this, erected a
statue of the king near the comitium, and sent an em¬
bassy to him with a present of a throne adorned with
ivory, a sceptre, a crown of gold, and a triumphal
robe.
Thus the Romans escaped the greatest danger they
had hitherto been in. However, they did not yet enjoy
tranquillity. The Sabines revolted, and continued the
war for some time with great obstinacy : but being de¬
feated in several engagements, they were at last obliged
to submit; and scarce was this war ended, when ano-
^ ther began with the Latins, wdro now declared for King
Latins darquin. Before they began this war, however, an em-
tre for bassy was sent to Rome, the purport of which was, that
luin- the Romans should raise the siege of Fidente which had
revolted, anil receive the Tarquins ; who, on their part
should grant a general amnesty. The ambassadors were
to allow the Romans a whole year to consider on these
overtures; and to threaten them with a war in case
r5
udes
he
] R O M
they refused to comply with them. The chief view of Rome.
Tarquin and his partisans in promoting this embassy
was, to lay hold of that opportunity to raise a sedition
in the city. To the ambassadors therefore, of the La¬
tins, he joined some of his own emissaries, who on
their arrival in the city, found two sorts of people dis¬
posed to enter into their measures; to wit, the slaves,
and the meaner citizens. 77
The slaves had formed a conspiracy the year before A clanger-
to seize the Capitol, and set fire to the city in several
quarters at the same time. But the plot being diseo- ^ygj|taems
vered, those who were concerned in it had been all
crucified, and this execution had highly provoked the
whole body of slaves. As to the meaner citizens, who
were for the most part overwhelmed with debt, and
cruelly used by their creditors, they were well appri¬
sed that there could happen no change in the govern¬
ment but to their advantage. These were the conspi¬
rators pitched upon, and to them were given the fol¬
lowing parts to act: the citizens were to make them¬
selves masters of the ramparts and gates of the citjr, at
an appointed hour of the night; and then to raise a
great shout as a signal to the slaves, who had engaged
to massacre their masters at the same instant; the gates
of the city were then to be opened to the Tarquins,
who were to enter Rome while it was yet reeking- with
the blood of the senators. The conspiracy was ripe for
execution, when Tarquin’sprincipal agents, Publius and
Marcus, both of his own name and family, being terri¬
fied with frightful dreams, had not courage enough to
proceed in their design till they had consulted a diviner.
However, they did not discover to him the conspiracy ;
but only asked him in general terms, wh^t success they
might expect in a project they had formed ? The sooth- 78
sayer, without the least hesitation, returned the follow- how disco-
ing answer : Your project mill end in your ruin ; disbur- vere(**
den yourselves of so heavy a load. Hereupon the Tar¬
quins, fearing lest some of the other conspirators should
bebefbrehandwith them in informing, went immediate¬
ly to S. Sulpitius, the only consul then at Rome, and
discovered the whole matter to him. The consul great¬
ly commended them, and detained them in his house,
til!, by private inquiries, he was assured of the truth of
their depositions. Then he assembled the senate, and
gave the Latin ambassadors their audience ofleave, with
an answer to their proposals ; which was, that the Ho¬
mans would neither receive the Tarquin?, nor raise the
siege of Fidenae, being all to a mau ready to sacrifice
their lives in defence of their liberties, and willing to
undergo any dangers rather than submit to the govern¬
ment of a tyrant.
The ambassadors being dismissed with this answer,
and conducted out of the city, Sulpitius laid open to the
fathers the dreadful conspiracy. It struck them with
horror : but they were all at a loss in what manner they
should appreehend and punish the guilty ; since, by the
law of Poplicola, there was an appeal to the people in
all capital cases; and the two witnesses, who were
strangers, might be excepted again t by Roman citizens.
In this perplexity they left the whole conduct of this
critical aiFair to Sulpitius ; who took a method which
he thought would equally serve to prove the guilt and
punish the guilty. He engaged the two inhormers to
assemble the conspiraiors, and to appoint a rendesvous
at midnight in the forum, as if they designed to take
the
ROM
[ 134 ]
R O M
Rome.
71)
The conspi¬
rators pu¬
nished.
80
Disturban ■
ees at
Rerne.
the last measures for the execution of the enterprise. In
the mean time he used all proper means to secure the
city, and ordered the Roman knights to hold themselves
ready, in the houses adjoining to the forum, to execute
the orders they should receive. The conspirators met
at the time and place appointed by the two Tarquins;
and the knights, upon a signal agreed on beforehand
invested the forum, and blocked up all the avenues to it
so closely, that it was impossible for any of the conspira¬
tors to make their escape. As soon as it was light, the
two consuls appeared with a strong guard on the tribu¬
nal ; for Sulpitiushad senttohis colleague Manius, who
was besieging Fidense,desiring him to hasten to the city
with a chosen body of troops. The people were con¬
vened by curiae, and acquainted with the conspiracy
which had been formed against the common liberty.
The accused were allowed to make their defence, if
they had any thing to offer against the evidence; but
not one of them denying the fact, the consuls repaired
to the senate, where sentence of death was pronounced
against the conspirators, in case the people approved it.
This decree of the senate being read to and approved
by the assembly, the people were ordered to retire, and
the conspirators were delivered up to the soldiers, who
put them all to the sword. The peace of Rome was
thought sufficiently secured by this stroke of severity;
and therefore, though all the conspirators were not pu¬
nished with death, it was judged proper not to make
any further inquiries. The two informers were reward¬
ed with all the privileges of Roman citizens, 100,000
uses, and 20 acres of land. Three festival-days were
appointed for expiations, sacrifices, and public games,
by way of thanksgiving to the gods. But the general
joy xvas disturbed by a melancholy accident; as the peo¬
ple were conducting Manius Tullius the consul from the
circus to his house, he fell from his chariot, and died
three days after.
The city of Fidena? was not yet reduced : it held
out during the following consulship of T. vEbutius and
P. Veturius ; but -was taken the next year by T. Lar-
tius, who, together with Q. Clcelius, was raised to the
consular dignity. The Latins, enraged at the loss of
this town, began to complain of their leading men ;
which opportunity Tarquin and Marnilius improved so
far, as to make all the Latin cities, 24 in number, enter
into an alliance against Rome, and to bind themselves
by oath never to violate their engagements. The La¬
tins made vast preparations, as did likewise the Romans;
but the latter could procure no assistance from their
neighbours. As the Latin nation was much superior
to them in strength, they sent deputies to solicit suc¬
cours from the several states with which they were sur¬
rounded : but their negociations proved every where
unsuccessful; and, what was worse than all, the republic
had rebellious sons in her own bosom, who refused to
lend their aid in defence of their country. The poorer
sort of people and the debtors, refused to take the mili¬
tary oaths, or to serve ; alleging their poverty, and the
fruitless hazards they ran in fighting for the defence of
a city, where they were oppressed and enslaved by their
creditors. This spirit of mutiny spread among the in¬
ferior classes, most of them refusing to list themselves,
unless their debts were all x’emitted by a decree of the
senate ; nay, they began to talk of leaving the city, and
settling elsewhere.
The senate, apprehending a general insurrection, a?- Romt,
sembled to deliberate on the means of quieting those ‘-"Vs!
domestic troubles. Some were for a free remission of
all debts, as the safestexpedient at that juncture ; others
urged the dangerous consequences of such a condescen¬
sion, advising them to list such only as were willing to
serve, not doubting but thorn who refused their as¬
sistance would offer it of their own accord when it was
no longer desired. Several other expedients were pro¬
posed : but at length this prevailed ; to wit, that all
actions for debts should be su-pended till the conclu¬
sion of the war with the Latins. But this the indigent
debtors thought only a suspension of their misery ; and
therefore it had not the intended effect on the minds
of the unruly multitude. The senate might indeed
have prosecuted the ringleaders of the sedition; but
the law of Poplicola, called the Valerian law, which
allowed appeals to the assembly of the people, was a
protection for the seditious, who were sure of being
acquitted by the accomplices of their rebellion. The
senate, therefore, to elude the effect of a privilege that
put such a restraint upon their power, resolved to create
one supreme magistrate, who, with the title of dictator,
should have an absolute power for a time: but as this
could not be done without striking at the law of Po¬
plicola, and transferring the power of the people in cri¬
minal cases to a magistrate superior to all laws, it was
necessary to use artifice, in order to obtain the consent
ol the curiae. They therefore represented to them in
a public assembly, that, in so difficult a conjuncture,
when they had their domestic quarrels to decide, and
at the same time a powerful enemy to reprise, it would
be expedient to put the commonwealih under a single
governor, who, superior to the consulsthernselve,?, should
be the arbiter of the laws, and as it were the father of CreaC
Ins country ; that his power should have no limits : but,
however, lest he should abuse it, they ought not to
trust him with it above six months.
Ihe people, not foreseeing the consequences of this
change, agreed to it; but the greatest difficulty was to
find a man duly qualified in all respects for so great a
trust. T. Lartius, one of the consuls, seemed to be
of all men the most unexceptionable; but the senate,
fearing to offend h:s colleague by an invidious prefe¬
rence, gave the consuls the power of choosing a dicta¬
tor, and obliged them to name one of themselves, not
doubting but Cloclius would yield to the superior ta¬
lents of his colleague: nor were they disappointed in
their expectations. But Lartius, with the same readi¬
ness, named Clodius; and the only contest was, which
of the two should raise the other to the supreme autho¬
rity. Each persisted obstinately in remitting the dig¬
nity to his colleague, till Cloelius, starting up on a sud¬
den, abdicated the consulship, and, after the manner
of an interrex, proclaimed Titus Lartius dictator, who
thereupon was obliged to take upon him the govern¬
ment of the republic.
Lartius indeed took as much state upon him, after he He chocj
had entered upon his office, as he had shown modesty in a genera
refusing it. Lie began by creating, without the partici- of horse,
pation either of the senate or people, a general of the Ro¬
man horse ; an office which lasted only during the dicta-
torship.andwhieholl-uhsequentdictalorsrevived imme-
late.y aftei theirelection. Sp. Cassius, formerly consul,
and honoured with a triumph, was the person he advan¬
ced
II O M [ 135 ] It 0 M
j*< r. ced to tliis second station in the republic. Lartms, hav-
x'" ino- by tills means secured the Roman knights, resolved,
in the next place, to make the people respect and fear
him. With this view he never appeared in public, with¬
out being attended by 24 lictors, to whose fasces he a-
gain added the axes which Poplicola had caused to be
taken from them. The novelty of this sight was alone
sufficient to awe the seditious, and without executions,
to spread consternation throughout Rome. The murmurs
of the inferior classes being by this means silenced, the
dictator commanded a census to be taken, according to
the institution of King Servius. Every one, without ex-
I ! ception, brought in his name, age, the particulars of his
;ui) r of estate, &c. and there appeared to be in Rome 150,700
:e * men who were past the age of puberty. Out of these
the dictator formed four armies : the first he command¬
ed himself; the second he gave to Clcelius his late col¬
league; the third to Sp. Cassius his general of the horse;
and the fourth he left in Rome, under the command
of his brother Sp. Lartius, who was to guard the city.
The Latins not being so forward in their preparations
as was expected, all their hostilities against Rome this
campaign amounted to no more than the sending a de¬
tachment into the Roman territory to lay it waste. The
dictator gained some advantage over that party; and
the great humanity with which he treated the prison¬
ers and wounded, disposed the Latins to listen the more
readily to the overtures which he at the same time made
them for a suspension of hostilities. At length a truce
was agreed on for a year; and then Lartius, seeing
the republic restored to its former tranquillity, resigned
the dictatorship, though the time appointed for its du¬
ration was not yet expired.
The following consulship of Sempronius Atratinus
and Minutius Angurinus, produced nothing memora¬
ble. But the next year the truce expired, when
Aldus Posthumius and T. Virginius took possession of
the consulship. Both Romans and Latins were busied
in making the necessary preparations for war. The
nobility of Latium, who were for the most part in the
interest of the Tarquins, having found means to ex¬
clude the citizens from the Latin diets, carried all
before them in those assemblies : whereupon many of
the citizens removed with their families to Rome, where
they were well received. The Latins being bent up¬
on war, the senate, notwithstanding the perfect har¬
mony that reigned between them and the people,
thought it expedient to create a dictator. The two
consuls were therefore empowered to name one ot them¬
selves to that dignity; whereupon Virginius readily
yielded it to his colleague Posthumius, as the more able
commander. The new dictator, having created /Ebu-
tius Elva his general of the horse, and divided his army
into four bodies, left one of"them, under the command
of Sempronius, to guard the city ; and with the other
three, commanded by himself, Virginius, and Jibu¬
ti us, marched out against the Latins, who, with an
army of 40,000 foot and 3000 horse, under the com¬
mand of Sextus Tarquinius, Titus Tarquinius, and
Mamilius, had already made themselves master of Cor-
bio, a strong-hold belonging to the republic, and put
4 the garrison to the sword. Posthumius encamped in
a : of the night on a steep hill near the lake Regillus, and
e lus. Virginius on another hill over against him. vEbutius
was ordered to march, silently in the night, with the
cavalry and light-armed infantry, to take possession of Rome,
a third hill upon the road by which provisions must be
brought to the.Latins.
Before /Ebutius had fortified his new camp, he was
vigorously attacked by Lucius Tarquinius, whom he
repulsed three times with great loss, the dictator hav¬
ing sent him a timely reinforcement. After this 7E-
butius intercepted two couriers sent by the Volsei to
the Latin generals, and, by letters found upon them,
discovered, that a considerable army of the Volsci and
Hernici were to join the Latin forces in three days.
Upon this intelligence, Posthumius drew his three bo¬
dies of troops together, which amounted in all to no
more than 24,000 foot and 1000 horse, with a design
to engage the enemy before the arrival of the succours
they expected. Accordingly he encouraged his men,
and, with his army in battle array, advanced to the
place where the enemy was encamped. The Latins,
who were much superior to the Romans in numbers,
and besides began to want provisions,did not decline the
engagement. Titus Tarquinius, at the head of the
Roman exiles and deserters, was in the centre, Mami¬
lius in the right wing, and Sextus Tarquinius in the
left. In the Roman army the dictator commanded in
the centre, JEbutius in the left wing, and Virginius in
the right.
The first body which advanced was that of the dic¬
tator ; and, as soon as it began to march, T. Tar¬
quinius, singling out the dictatin', ran full speed against
him. The dictator did not decline the encounter, but,
flying at his adversary, wounded him with a javelin in
the right side. Upon this, the first line of the Latins
advanced to cover their general; but he being carried
out of the field, they made but a faint resistance when
charged by the troops of the dictator. They were de¬
stitute of a leader; and therefore began to retire, when
Sextus Tarquinius, baking the place of his brother,
brought them back to the charge, and renewed the
fight with such vigour, that the victory, in the centre
was still doubtful; On the side of Mamilius and /Kbu-
tius, both parties, encouraged by the example of their
leaders, fought with incredible bravery and resolution.
After a long and bloody contest, the two generals
agreed to determine the doubtful victory by a single
combat. Accordingly the champions pushed on their
horses against each other. iEbutius with his lance
wounded Mamilius in the breast; and Mamilius with
his sword /Ebutius in the right arm. Neither of the
wounds were mortal; but, both generals falling from
their horses, put an end to the combat. Marcus Va¬
lerius, the brother of Poplicola, supplying the place of
iEbutius, endeavoured, at the head of the Roman
horse, to break the enemy’s battalions; but was re¬
pulsed" by the cavalry of the Roman royalists. At the
same time Mamilius appeared again in the van, with a
considerable body of horse and light-armed infantry.
Valerius, with the assistance of his two nephews, the
sons of Poplicola, and a chosen troop of volunteers,
attempted to break through the Latin battalions, in
order to engage Mamilius ; but being surrounded by
the Roman exiles, he received a mortal wound- in his
side, fell from his horse, and died. The dead body
was carried off by the two sons of Poplicola, in spite
of the utmost efforts of the exiles, and delivered to Va¬
lerius’s servants, who conveyed it to the Roman camp ;
but
Rome.
85
Tlio l.atins
entirely de¬
feated, and
their camp
taken.
86
The whole
nation sub¬
mits.
87
•Death of
Tarquin.
ROM [ 136 ] R 0 M
but the young heroes being afterwards invested on all
sides, and overpowered by numbers, were both killed
on the spot. Upon their death, tire left wing of the
Romans began to give ground, but were soon brought
back by Posthumius; who, with a body of Roman
knights, flying to their assistance, charged the royalists
with such fury, that thej- were, after an obstinate re¬
sistance, obliged to give vTay, and retire in the utmost
confusion. In the mean time Titus Horminius, one
of the dictator's lieutenants, having rallied those who
had fled, fell upon some close batalions of the enemy’s
left wing, which still kept their ground under the
command of Mamilius, killed him with his own hand,
and put that body to flight. But while he was busy
in stripping the body of his enemy, he received himself
a wound, of which he died soon after.
Sextus Tarquinius in the mean time maintained the
fight w ith great bravery, at the head of the left wing,
against the consul Virginias; and had even broke
through the right wing of the Roman army, when
the dictator attacked him unexpectedly with his victo¬
rious squadrons. Then Sextus, having lost at once all
hopes of victory, threw himself, like one in .despair,
into the midst of the Roman knights, and there sunk
under a multitude of wounds, after he had distinguish¬
ed himself in a most eminent manner. The death
of the three generals was followed by the entire de¬
feat of the Latin army, Their camp was taken and
plundered, and most of their troops cut in pieces; for
of the 43,000 men who came into the field, scarce
J 0,000 returned home. The next morning the Vol-
sci and Hernici came, according to their agreement, to
assist the Latins; but finding, upon their arrival, how
matters had gone, some of them were for falling upon
the Romans before they could recover from the fatigue
of the preceding day; but others thought it more safe
to send ambassadors to the dictator, to congratulate
him on Ins victory, and assure him that they had left
their own country with no other design than to assist
Rome in so dangerous a war. Posthumius, by produ¬
cing their couriers and letters, gave them to understand
that he was well apprised of their designs and treach¬
erous proceedings. However, out of a regard to the
law of nations, he sent them back unhurt, with a
challenge to their generals to fight the next day ;
but the \ olsci and their confederates, not caring
to engage a victorious army, decamped in the night,
and returned to their respective countries before break
of day.
lire Latins having now no remedy but an entire
submission, sent ambassadors to solicit a peace at Rome,
yielding tnemselves absolutely to the judgment of the
senate. As Rome had long since made it a maxim to
spare the nations that submitted, the motion of Titus
Lartius, the late dictator, prevailed; and the ancient
treaties w ith the Latins were renewed, on condition,
however, that they should restore the prisoners they had
taken,deliver up the deserters, anddrrve the Roman exiles
out of Latium. Thus ended the last war which the
Romans waged with their neighbours on account of their
banished king; who, being now abandoned by the
l.atins. Hetrurians, and Sabines, retired into Campania
to Anstodemus tyrant of Cumae, and there died, in the
9n year of his age and 14th of his exile.
Xhe Romans were no sooner freed from these dan¬
gerous wrars, than they began to oppress one another; IW<
and those domestic feuds took place which continued ''■’V
more or less during the whole time of the republic. $8
The first disturbances wTere occasioned by the oppres- New *■
sion of the plebeians who were debtors to the patri-
clans. The senate, who were at the head of the patri¬
cians, chose to the consulate one Appius Claudius, w ho
violently opposed the pretensions of the plebeians ; but
gave him for his colleague one P. Servilius, who wras
of a quite contrary opinion and disposition. The con¬
sequence of this was, that the consuls disagreed; the
senate did not know wdiat to determine, and the people
were ready to revolt. In the midst of these distur¬
bances, an army of the Volsci advanced towards Rome ;
the people refused to serve; and had not Servilius
procured some troops who served out of a personal
affection to himself, the city would have been in great
danger.
But though the Volsci were for this time driven
back, they had no intention of dropping their designs ;
they engaged in an alliance with them the Hernici and
Sabines. In the mean time, the disputes at Rome con¬
tinued with as much violence as ever. Nay, though they
were expressly told that the Volscian army w as on its
way to besiege the city, the plebeians absolutely refused
to march against them ; saying, that it was the same
thing whether they were chained by their owm country¬
men or by the enemy. In this extremity Servilius
promised, that when the enemy wrere repulsed the se¬
nate would remit all the debts of the plebeians. This
having engaged them to serve, the consul marched out
at their head, defeated the enemy in a pitched battle,
and took their capital, giving it up to be plundered
by his soldiers, without reserving any part for the pub¬
lic treasury.
Whatever might have been the reasons of Servilius
for tins step, it furnished Appius w ith a pretence for
refusing him a triumph, as a man of a seditious dispo¬
sition, who aimed at popularity by an excessive indul¬
gence and profuseness to his soldiers. Servilius, incen¬
sed at this injustice, and encouraged by the acclama¬
tions of the people, decreed himself a triumph in spite
of Appius and the senate. After this he marched
against the Aurunci, who had entered Latium; and, in
conjunction with Posthumius Regillens, he utterly de¬
feated them, and obliged them to retire into their owui
country. But neither the services of the general nor
his soldiers could mollify the senate and patrician party.
Appius even doubled the severity of his judgments,
and imprisoned all those who had been set at liberty
during the war. The prisoners cried for relief to Ser¬
vilius ; but he could not obtain the accomplishment of
those promises which the senate never had meant to
perform ; neither did he choose to quarrel openly with
the Avhole patrician body ; so that, striving to preserve
the friendship of both parties, he incurred the hatred
of one and the contempt of the other. Perceiving
therefore that he had lost all his interest writh the ple¬
beians, he joined with the patricians against them;
but the plebeians rushing tumultuously into the forum,
made such a noise, that no sentence pronounced by the
judges could be beard, and the utmost confusion pre¬
vailed through the whole city. Several proposals were
made to accommodate matters; but through the obsti¬
nacy ot Appius and the majority of the senators, they
all
Pi- 0 M
E m'e. all came to nothing. In the mean time it ’-vas neee«-
U gary to raise an army against the Sabines, who had in¬
vaded the territories of the republic: but the people
refused to serve. Manius Valerius, however, brother
to the celebrated Poplicola, once more }rrevailed upon
them to march out against the common enemy ; having
previously obtained assurances from the senate that their
grievances should be redressed. But no sooner had
victory declared in favour of the Romans, than the se¬
nate, apprehending that the soldiers at their return
would challenge Valerius, wrho had been nominated dic¬
tator, for the performance of their promises, desired
him and the two consuls to detain them still in the
field, under pretence that the war was not quite finish¬
ed. The consuls obeyed; but the dictator, whose au¬
thority did not depend on the senate, disbanded his
army, and declared his soldiers free from the oath which
they had taken; and as a further proof of his attach¬
ment to the plebeians, he chose out of that order 400,
whom he invested with the dignity of knights. After
this he claimed the accomplishment of the promises
made by the senate : but, instead of performing them,
he had the mortification to hear himself loaded with
|. reproaches : on which he resigned his office as dicta-
1 It but tor, and acquainted the people with his inability to ful-
ll!he fil his engagements to them. No sooner were these
tt blesarc transactions knowm in the army, than the soldiers, to a
lild by maIlj deserted the consuls and other officers, and reti-
«I mes of re^ to a kill called afterwards Mons Sacer, three miles
C people, from Rome, where they continued to observe an exact
discipline, offering no sort of violence whatever. The
senate, after taking proper measures for the defence of
the city, sent a deputation to the malcontents; but
it was answered with contempt. In short, all things
tended to a civil war, when at last matters were com¬
promised by the institution of tribunes of the people,
who had power to prevent the passing of any law that
might be prejudicial to the people, and whose persons
were declared sacred, insomuch that whoever offered
the least violence to the person of a tribune was decla¬
red accursed, his effects were to be consecrated to Ceres,
and he himself might be killed with impunity ; and all
the Romans were to engage themselves, in their own
name and that of their posterity, never to repeal this
law. The people, after these regulations, erected an
altar to Jupiter the Terrible, on the top of the hill
where their camp had stood ; and when they had offer¬
ed sacrifices to the god, and consecrated the place of
their retreat, they returned to Rome, led by their new
magistrates and the deputies of the senate.
Thus the Roman constitution, which had originally
been monarchic, and from thence had passed into an
aristocracy, began now to vtj;rge towards a democracy.
The tribunes immediately gifter their election obtained
permission from the senate to elect two persons as their
ministers or assistants, who should ease them a little in
the great multiplicity of their affairs. They were call¬
ed p/eiefara cediles; and afterwards came to have the in¬
spection ot the public baths, aqueducts, with many
other offices originally belonging to the consuls, after
which they were called simply cedilcs.
A11 opposition to the making of regular levies be¬
ing now at an end, the consul Cominius led an army
against the Volsci. He defeated them in battle, and
took from them Longula and Tolusca ; after which he
Vei.. XVUI. Part I.
R 0 M
besieged Corioli, a city strongly fortified, and which Rome,
might b^ called their capital. He carried this place,
and gained a victory over the Antiates, the same day ; ^
but Cains Marcius, an eminent patrician, had ail the Cajus
glory cf both actions. The troops detached by the CUs Coho,
consul to scale the "walls of Corioli being repulsed in lanus.
their first assault, Marcius rallied the runaways, led
them on afresh to the charge, drove back the enemy
within their walls, and, entering the city with them,
made himself master of it. This exploit achieved, he
with all expedition put himself in the foremost ranks of
the consul’s main army, that was just going to engage
with the Antiates, who were come to the relief of the
place ; and there he behaved with equal bravery, and
had equal success.
The next day, the consul, having erected his tribunal
before his tent, called the soldiers together. His whole
speech to them was little more than a panegyric upon
Marcius. He put a crown upon his head; assigned
him a tenth part of al! the spoil; and, in the name of
the republic, made him a present of a fine horse with
stately furniture, giving him leave at the same time to
choose out any ten of the prisoners for himself; and
lastly, he allotted him as much money as he could carry
away. Of all these offers Marcius accepted only the
horse, and one captive of the ten, an old friend of his
family, that he might give him his liberty. To add
to the glory of the brave warrior, the consul bestowed
on him the surname of Coridanus, transferring thereby
from himself to Marcius all the honour of the conquest
of Corioli. Cominius, at his return to Rome, disband¬
ed his army; and war was succeeded by works of reli¬
gion, public games, and treaties of peace. A census
and a lustrum closed the events of this memorable con- 91
sulship. There appeared to be in Rome at this time no Diminu-
more than 11 0,000 men fit to bear arms ; a number by tion ot‘tl,c
many thousands less than at the last enrollment. Doubt-
less great numbers had run away to avoid being slaves °'
to their creditors.
Under the following administration of T. Geganius
and P. Minucius, Rome was terribly afflicted by a fa¬
mine, occasioned chiefly by the neglect of ploughing
and sowing during the late troubles; for the sedition
had happened after the autumnal equinox, about sow¬
ing-time, and the accommodation was not made till <)«
just before the winter solstice. The senate dispatched A famine
agents into Hetruria, Campania, the country of the in the cifr*
Volsci, and even into Sicily, to buy corn. Those who
embarked for Sicily met with a tempest which retarded
their arrival at Syracuse ; where they were constrained
to pass the winter. At Cumae, the tyrant Aristotle-
mus seized the money brought by the commissaries;
and they themselves with difficulty saved their lives by
flight. The Volsci, far from being disposed to succour
the Romans, would have marched against them, if a
sudden and most destructive pestilence had not defeated
their purpose. In Hetruria alone the Roman commissa¬
ries met with success. They sent a considerable quanti¬
ty of grain from thence to Rome in barks ; but this was
in a short time consumed, and the misery became exces¬
sive : the people were reduced to eat any thing they
could get; and nature in so great extremity loathed
nothing. ^
During this distress a deputation came from Velitrae, A colony
a Volscian city, where the Romans had formerly p1 air- sem t0 Ve-
t S edlilrjc'
[ 137 ]
Rome.
Disturban¬
ces raised
by the tri¬
bunes.
ROM [
ed a colony, representing that nine parts in ten of
its inhabitants had been swept away by a plague,
and praying the Romans to send a new colony to
re-people it. The conscript fathers without much hesi¬
tation granted the request, pressed the departure of the
colony, and without delay named three leaders to con¬
duct it.
The people at first were very well pleased with the
proposal, as it gave them a prospect of relief in their
hunger: but when they reflected on the terrible havoc
the plague had made among the old inhabitants of Ve-
litice, they began to fear that the place might be still
infected; and this apprehension became so universal,
that not one of them would consent to go thither. Ne¬
vertheless the senate atlengthpublished a decree that all
the citizens should draw lots ; and that those to whose
lot it fell to be of the colony should instantly march for
Velitrae, or suffer the severest punishments for their dis¬
obedience : fear and hunger made the people comply ;
and the fathers, a few days after, sent away a second
colony to Norba, a considerable city of Latium. But
the patricians were disappointed as to the benefit they
expected from these measures. The plebeians who re¬
mained in Rome being more and more pressed by hunger
and want, grew daily more angry with the senate. At
first they assembled in small companies to vent their
wrath in abusive complaints; and at length, in one great
body, rushed all together into the forum, calling out up¬
on their tribunes for succour.
The tribunes made it their business to heighten the
general discontent. Having convened the people, Spu-
rius Icilius, chief of the college of tribunes, inveighed
most bitterly against the senate ; and when he had end¬
ed his harangue, exhorted others to speak freely their
thoughts ; particularly, and by name, calling upon Bru¬
tus and Sicinius, the ringleaders of the former sedition,
and now sediles. These men, far from attempting to
extinguish the fire, added fresh fuel to it: And the more
to inflame the sph'its of the multitude, they enumerated
all the past insults which the people had suffered from
the nobles. Brutus concluded his harangue with loudly
threatening, that if the plebeians would follow his ad¬
vice, he would soon oblige those men who had caused
the present calamity to find a remedy for it: after w hich
the assembly was dismissed.
The next day, the consuls, greatly alarmed at this
commotion, and apprehending from the menaces of
Brutus some very mischievous event, thought it advi¬
sable to convene the senators, that they might consider
of the best means to avert the impending evil. The fa¬
thers could not agree in opinion. Some were for em¬
ploying soft words and fair promises to quiet and gain
over the most turbulent. ButAppius’s advice prevail¬
ed : which was, that the consuls should call the people
together, assure themthatthe patricians had not brought
upon them the miseries they suffered, and promise, on
the part of the senate, all possible care to provide for
their necessities ; but at the same time should reprove
the disturbers of the public peace, and threaten them
with theseverest punishments if they did not amendtheir
behaviour.
When the consuls, towards the close of the day,
having assembled the people, would have signified to
them the disposition and intention of the senate, they
were interrupted by the tribunes. A dispute ensued,
II 0 M
Roras,
'WV'
9a
The poj'i
of the
Coriok
banisled
1SS ]
in which no order or decency was observed on either
side. Several speaking at the same time, and with
great vociferation, no one could be well understood
by the audience. The consuls judged, that being the
superior magistrates, their authority extended to all as¬
semblies of the citizens. On the other side, it was
pretended, that the assemblies of the people were the
pi'ovince of the tribunes, as the senate was that of the
consuls.
The dispute grew warm, and both parties v/ere ready
to come.to blows ; when Brutus having put some que¬
stions to the consuls, ended it for that time. Next clay
he proposed a law which was carried, that no person
whatever should interrupt a tribune when speaking in
an assembly of the people : by which means the influ- creases,
ence and power of the popular party was considerably
increased, and the tribunes became formidable oppo¬
nents to the consuls and patricians. An opportunity
soon offered for both parties to try their strength. A
great fleet of ships laden with corn from Sicily, agreat
part of which was a present from Gelon the king of
that country to the Romans, and the rest purchased by
the senate with the public money, raised their spirits
once more.
But Coriolanus incurred their resentment, by insisting
that it should not be distributed till the grievances of the
senate were removed. For this, the tribunes summoned
him to a trial before the people, under pretence that he
aspired at the sovereignty.
When the appointed day was come, all persons were
filled with the greatestexpectations,and a vastconcourse
from the adjacent country assembled and filled up the
forum. Coriolanus, upon this, presented himself before
the people with a degree of intrepiditythat merited bet¬
ter fortune. His graceful person, his persinsive elo¬
quence, the cries of those whom he had saved from the
enemy, inclined the auditors to relent. But being con¬
founded with a new charge which he did not expect, of
having embezzled the plunder of Antium, the tribunes
immediateley took the votes, and Coriolanus was con¬
demned to perpetual exile.
This sentence against their bravest defender struck
the whole body of the senate with sorrow, consternation,
and regret. Coriolauus alone, in the midst of the tu¬
mult, seemed an unconcerned spectator. He returned
home, followed by the lamentations of hundreds of the
most respectable senators and citizens of Rome, to take
a lasting leave of his wife, his children, and his mother
Veturia. Thus recommending his little children to
their care, he left the city, without followers or fortune,
to take refuge wdth Tullus Attius, a man of great power
among the Volscians, who took him under his protec¬
tion, and espoused his quarrel. 97
i he first thing to he done, was to induce the Volsci Helw’
to oreak the league which had been made with Rome ; ^ie Clt-
and lor thispurpose 1 ullus sent many of his citizens thi-
tlier, in order to see some games at that time celebrat-
ing ; but at the same time gave the senate private infor¬
mation, that the strangers had dangerous intentions of
burning the city. This had the desired effect; the se¬
nate issued an order that ali strangers, whoever they
w ere, should depart from Rome before sunset. This
o:dei fudus represented to his countrymen as an infrac-
tion of the treaty, and procured an embassy to Rome,
complaining of the breach, and demanding back all the
territories
ROM [ 139 ] It O M
1 uc. territories belongingto the Volscians, of which they had
V- been violently dispossessed ; declaring war in case of a
refusal: but this message was treated by the senate with
I 8 contempt.
Gai great War being thus declared on both sides. Coriolarms
ad' tg68 and Tullus were made generals of the Volscians ; and
fl„ve ue accordingly invaded the Roman territories, ravaffinff
and laying waste all such hinds as belonged to the ple-
beians, but letting those of the senators remain un¬
touched. In the mean time, the levies went on very
slowly at Rome; the two consuls, who were re-elected
by the people, seemed but little skilled in war, and even
feared to encounter a general whom they knew to be
their superior in the field. The allies also showed their
fears, and slowly brought in their succours ; so that
Coriolanus continued to take their towns one after the
other. Fortune followed him in every expedition ; and
he was now so famous for his victories, that the Volsci
left their towns defenceless to follow him into the field.
The very soldiers of his colleague’s army came over to
him, and would acknowledge no other general. Thus
finding himself unopposed in the field, and at thehead
I 39 of a numerous army, he at length invested the city of
In ts the Rome itself, fully resolved to besiege it. It was then
that the senate and the people unanimously agreed to
send deputies to him, with proposals of restoration, in
case he should draw off his army. Coriolanus received
their proposals at the head of his principal officers, and,
with the sternness of a general that was to give the law,
refused their offers.
Another embassy was now sent forth, conjuring him
not to exact from his native city aught but what be¬
came Romans to grant. Coriolanus, however, still per¬
sisted in his former demands, and granted them but
three days in which to finish their deliberations. In this
exigence, all that was left was another deputation still
more solemn than either of the former, composed of the
pontiffs, the priests, and the augurs. These, clothed
in their habits of ceremony, and with a grave and
mournful deportment, issued from the city, and entered
the camp of the conqueror: but all in vain, they found
him severe and inflexible as before.
When the people saw them return ineffectually, they
began to give up the commonwealth as lost. Their
temples were filled with old men, with women and chil¬
dren, who, prostrate at their altars, put up their ardent
prayers for the preservation of their country. Nothing
■was to be heard but anguish and lamentation, nothing
to be seen but scenesof affright and distress. At length
it was suggested to them, that what could not be ef¬
fected by the intercession of the senate or the adjuration
100 raight be brought about by the tears of
Is aban- or the commands of his mother. This depu-
d ; the Ration seemed to be relished by all; and even the seriate
ei rprbe itself gave it the sanction of their authority. Veturia,
II ie in- the mother of Coriolanus, at first made some hesitation
to undertake so pious a work : however, she at last nu¬
ll , oertook the embassy, and set forward from the city, ac-
compinied by many of the principal matrons of Rome,
with Volumnia his wife, and his two children. Corio-
lanus, wno at a distance, discovered this mournful train
of females, was resolved to give them a denial, and
called his officers round him to be witness of his reso¬
lution ; but, when told that his mother and his wife
were among the number, he instantly came down from
his tribunal to meet and embrace them. At first, the
women's tears and embraces took away the power of
words; and the rough soldier himself, hard as he was,
could not refrain from sharing in their distress. Co¬
riolanus now seemed much agitated by contending pas¬
sions ; while his mother,who saw him moved, seconded
her words by the most persuasive eloquence, her tears :
his wife and children hung round him, intreating for
protection and pity ; while the fair train, her compa¬
nions, added their lamentations,and deplored their own
and their country’s distress. Coriolanus fora moment
was silent, feeling the strong conflict between honour
and inclination : at length, as if rouzed from his dream,
he flew to take up his mother, who had fallen at his
feet, crying out, “ O my mother, thou hast saved
Rome, but lost thy son.” He accordingly gave orders
to draw off the army, pretending to the officers that
the city was too strong to be taken. Tullus, who bad
long envied his glory, was not remiss in aggravatingthe ioi
lenity of his conduct to his countrymen. Upon their is assassi-
return, Coriolanus was slain in an insurrection of the te^fy .
people, and afterwards honourably buried, with late and e 0 bCU
ineffectual repentance.
The year following, the two consuls of the former
year, Manlius and Fabius, were cited by the tribunes 1()2
to appear before the people. The Agrarian law, which
had been proposed some time before, for equally divid¬
ing the lands of the commonwealth among the people,
was the object invariably pursued, and they were ac¬
cused of having made unjustifiable delays in putting it
off.
It seems the Agrarian law was a grant the senate
could not think of giving up to the people. The con¬
suls, therefore, made many delays and excuses, till at
length they were once more obliged to have recourse
to a dictator; and they fixed upon Quintus Cincinna-
tus, a man who had for some time given up all views
of ambition, and retired to his little farm, where the
deputies of the senate found him holding the plough,
and dressed in the mean attire of a labouring husband¬
man. He appeared but little elevated with the addresses
of ceremony and thepompoushabitsthey brought him ;
and, upon declaring to him the senate’s pleasure, he
testified rather a concern that his aid should be wanted.
However, he departed for the city, whe e both parties
were strongly inflamed against each other : but he was
resolved to side with neither ; only, by a strict attention
to the interests of his country, instead of gaining the
confidence of faction, to obtain the esteem of all.
Thu«, by threats and well-timed submission, he pre¬
vailed upon the tribunes to put off their law for a time,
and carried himself so as to be a terror to the multitude
whenever they refused to enlist; and their greatest cn-
couragerwhenever theirsubmissiondeserved it. Thus, Que]ied by
having restored that tranquillity to the people which he Cincinna-
so much loved himself, he again gave up the splendours
of ambition, to enjoy it with a greater relish in his little
farm.
Cincinnatus was not long retired from his office when
a fresh exigence of the state once more required his as¬
sistance. The iEqui and the Volsci, who, though still
worsted, still were for renewing the war, made new in¬
roads into the territories of home. Minutius, one of
the consuls who succeeded Cincinnatus, was sent to op¬
pose them; but being naturally timid, and rather more
S 2 afraid
Home.
ROM [ 140 ]
afraid of being conquered than desirous of victory, his
armv was driven into a defile between two mountains,
from which, except through the enemy, there was no
egress. This, however, the dEqui had the precaution
to fortify ; by which the Roman army was so hemmed
destruction, in on every side, that nothing remained but submission
to the enemy, famine, or immediate death. Some
knights, who found means of getting away privately
through the enemy’s camp, were the first that brought
the account of this disaster to Rome. Nothing could
exceed the consternation of all ranks of people when in¬
formed of it. The senate at first thought of the other
consul • but not having sufficient experience of his abi¬
lities, they unanimously turned their eyes upon Cincin-
natus, and resolved to make him dictator. Cincinnatus,
the only person on whom Rome could now place her
whole dependence, was found, as before, by the messen¬
gers of the senate, labouring in his little field with
cheerful industry. He was at first astonished at the en¬
signs of unbounded power with which the deputies
came to invest him; but .still more at the approach of
the principal of the senate, who came out to meet him.
A dignity so unlooked for, however, had no effect
upon the simplicity or the integrity of his manners;
and being now possessed of absolute power, and called
upon to nominate his master of the horse, he chose a
poor man named Tarquitius, one who, like himself,
despised riches when they led to dishonour. Upon
entering the city, the dictator put on a serene look,
and intreated all those who were able to bear arms to
repair before sunset to the Campus Martius (the place
where the levies were made) with necessary arms, and
provisions for five days. He put himself at the head of
these ; and marching all night with great expedition,
he arrived before day within sight of the enemy. Up¬
on his approach, he ordered his soldiers to raise a loud
shout, to apprize the consul’s army of the relief that
was at hand. The iEqui were not a little amazed
when they saw themselves between two enemies; but
still more when they perceived Cincinnatus making the
strongest entrenchments beyond them, to prevent their
escape, and inclosing them as they had inclosed the con¬
sul. To prevent this, a furious combat ensued; but
the dEqui, being attacked on both sides, and unable to
resist or fly, begged a cessation of arms. They offered
the dictator his own terms ; he gave them their lives ;
but obliged them, in token of servitude, to pass under
the yoke, which was two spears set upright, and ano¬
ther across, in the form of a gallows, beneath which
the vanquished were to march. Their captains and ge¬
nerals hemade prisoners of war, being resolved to adorn
his triumph. As for the plunder of the enemy’s camp,
that he gave entirely up to his own soldiers, without re¬
serving any part for himself, or permitting those of the
delivered army to have a share. Thus, having rescued
a Roman army from inevitable destruction, having de¬
feated a powerful enemy, having taken and fortified
iheir c:ty, and still more, having refused any part of
the spoil, he resigned his dictatorship, after having en-
joyecl it but 14 days. The senate would have erfriched
him; but he declined their proffers, choosing to retire
once more to his farm and his cottage, content with
temperance and fame.
But this repose from foreign invasion d:d not lessen
the tumults of the city within. The clamours for the
II 0 M
I! mm?,
105
10(5
Agrarian law still continued, and still more fiercely,
when Sicinius Dentatus, a plebeian, advancad in years,
but of an admirable person and military deportment,
came forward, to enumerate his hardships and his me- t,ra''cry of
rits. This old soldier made no scruple of extolling the
various merits of his youth ; but indeed his achieve¬
ments supported ostentation. He had served his coun¬
try in the wars 40 years ; he had been an officer SO,
first a centurion, and then a tribune: he had fought
120 battles, in which, by the force of his single arm,
he had saved a multitude of lives : he had gained ] 4
civic, three mural, and eight golden ci’owns, besides 83
chains, 6'0 bracelets, 18 gilt spears, and 23 horse-trap¬
pings, whereof nine w ere for killing the enemy in single
combat: moreover, he had received 45 wounds,, all be¬
fore, and none behind. These were his honours : yet,
notwithstanding all this, he had never received any
share of those lands which were won from the enemy,
but continued to drag on a life of poverty and con¬
tempt ; while others were possessed of those very terri¬
tories which his valour had won, without any merit to
deserve them, or ever having contributed to the con¬
quest. A case of so much hardship had a strong effect Violent di
upon the multitude ; they unanimously demanded that sturbi®ces,
the law might be passed, and that such merit should not
go unrewarded. It was in vain that some of the sena¬
tors rose up to speak against it; their voices were
drowned by the cries of the people. When reason^
therefore, could no longer be heard, passion, as usual,
succeeded ; and the young patricians, running furiously
into the throng, broke the balloting urns, and disper¬
sed the multitude that offered to oppose them. For this
they were some time after fined by the tribunes; but
their resolution, nevertheless, for the present, put off
the Agrarian law.
The commonwealth of Rome had now for near 60
years been fluctuating between the contending orders
that composed it, till at length, each side, as if weary,
were willing to respire a while from the mutual exer¬
tions of their claims. The citizens, now, therefore,
of every rank, began to complain of the arbitrary de¬
cisions of their magistrates, and wished to be guided
by a written body of laws, which being known might 107
prevent wrongs as well as punish them. In this both Ambassa
the senate and the people concurred, as hoping that ^ors sentl
such laws would put an end to the commotions that so ^.^"new
long had harassed the state. It was thereupon agreed, ia™ from
that ambassadors should be sent to the Greek cities in thence.
Italy, and to Athens, to bring home such laws from
thence as by experience had been found most equitable
and useful. For this purpose, three senators, Posthu-
mius, Sulpicius, and Manlius, were fixed upon, and
galleys assigned to convoy them, agreeable to the ma¬
jesty of the Roman people. While they were upon this
commission abroad, a dreadful plague depopulated the
city at home, and supplied the interval of their absence
with other anxiety than that of wishes for their return.
In about a year the plague ceased, and the ambassadors
returned, bringing home a body of laws, collected from
the most civilized states of Greece and Italy, which be¬
ing afterwards formed into ten tables, and two more be-
^ng added, made that celebrated code called the Lows
of the Iwelve lables, many fragments of which remain
to this day. ^ \
The ambassadors were no sooner returned, than the Decemviri
tribunes elected.
It O M [ 141 3 It O M
I j rae. tribunes required th>t a body of men should be chosen
R ^ to digest their new laws into proper form, and to give
f weight to the execution of them After long debates
whether this choice should not be partly made from
the people as well as the patricians, it was at last agreed
that 10 of the principal senators should be elected,
whose power, continuing for a year, should be equal to
that of kings and consuls, and that without any ap¬
peal. The persons chosen were Appius and Genutius,
who had been elected consuls for the ensuing year;
Posthumius, Sulpicius, and Manlius, the three ambas¬
sadors ; Sextus and Romulus, former consuls; with
Julius Veturius, and Horatius, senators of the first con¬
sideration.
The decemviri being now invested with absolute
power, agreed to take the reins of government by turns,
and that each should dispense justice for a day.
These magistrates for the first year, wrought with
extreme application; and their work being finished, it
was expected that they would be contented to give
I 39 up their offices; but having known the charms of
Ti be- power, they were now unwilling to resign it: they
co abso- therefore pretended that some laws were yet wanting
to complete their design, and intreated the senate for
a continuance of their offices ; to which that body as¬
sented.
But they soon threw off the mask of moderation;
and, regardless either of the approbation of the senate or
the people, resolved to continue themselves, against all
order, in the decemvirate. A conduct so notorious pro¬
duced discontents; and these were as sure to produce
fresh acts of tyranny. The city was become almost a
desert, with respect to all who had any thing to lose;
and the decemvirs rapacity was then only discontinued,
when they wanted fresh objects to exercise it upon. In
this state of slavery, proscription, and mutual distrust,
not one citizen was found to strike for his country’s free¬
dom ; these tyrants continued to rule without controul,
being constantly guarded, not with their lictors alone,
but a numerous crowd of dependents, clients, and even
patricians, whom their vices had confederated round
| ;o them
In Jon of In this gloomy situation of the state, the JEqui and
P 'qui Volsci, those constant enemies of the Romans, undertook
an Volsci. their incursions, resolved to profit by the intestine divi¬
sions of the people, and advanced within about 10 miles
of Rome.
But the decemviri, being put in possession of all the
military as well as of the civil power, divided their ar¬
my into three parts ; whereof one continued with Ap¬
pius in the city, to keep it in awe; the other two
were commanded by his colleagues, and were led, one
against the JEqui, and the other against the Sabines.
The Roman soldiers had now got into a method of pu¬
nishing the generals whom they disliked, by suffering
themselves to be vanquished in the field. They put it
in practice upon this occasion, and shamefully aban-
11 doned their camp upon the approach of the enemy,
'1 [to- Never was the news of a victory more joyfully recei-
l! de- ved at Rome than the tidings of this defeat: the ge-
Eil nerals, as is always the case, were blamed for the
treachery of their men; some demanded that they
should be deposed; others cried out for a dictator to
lead the troops to conquest: but among the rest, old
Sicinius Dentatus the tribune spoke his sentiments
I
■with his usual openness ; and treating the generals Rbrne;
with contempt, showed ail the faults of their discipline "m‘*
in the camp, and of their conduct in the field. Appiu*,
in the mean time, was not remiss in observing the dis¬
position of the people. Dentatus, in particular, was
marked out for vengeance, and, under pretence of do¬
ing him particular honour, he w^as appointed legate,
and put at the head of the supplies which were sent
from Rome to reinforce the army. The office of le¬
gate was held sacred among the Romms, as in it were
united the authority of a general, v/ith the reverence ;yjurc|er Pi
due to the priesthood. Dentatus, no way suspecting Sicinius
his design, went to the camp with alacrity, where he Dentatus.
was received with all the external marks of respect. But
the generals soon found means of indulging their de¬
sire of revenge. He was appointed at the head of 100
men to go and examine a more commodious place for
encampment, as he had very candidly assured the com¬
manders that their present situation was wrong. The
soldiers, however, who were given as his attendants,
were assassins; wretches who had long been ministers of
the vengeance of the decemviri, and who now engaged
to murder him, though with all those apprehensions
which his reputation, as he was called the Roman A-
chilles, might be supposed to inspire. With these de¬
signs, they led him from the way into the hollow bo¬
som of a retired mountain, where they began to set up¬
on him from behind. Dentatus, now too late, percei¬
ved the treachery of the decemviri, and was resolved to
sell his life as dearly as he could ; he therefore put his
back to a rock, and defended himself against those who
pressed most closely. Though now grown old, he had
still the remains of his former valour, and killed no less
than 15 of the assailants,and wounded 30. The aisassins
now therefore, terrified at his amazing bravery, shower¬
ed in their javelins upon him at a distance; all which
he received in his shield with undaunted resolution.
The combat, though so unequal in numbers, was ma¬
naged for some time with doubtful success, till at length
his assailants bethought themselves of ascending the.
rock against which be stood, and thus poured down
stones upon him from above. This succeeded; the old
soldier fell beneath their united efforts, after having
shown by his death that he owed it to his fortitude,
and not his fortune, that he had come off so many
times victorious. The decerr.viri pretended to join in
the general sorrow for so brave a man, and decreed
him a funeral, with the first military honours; but the
greatness of their apparent distress, compared with
their known hatred, only rendered them si ill more
detestable to the people. j 13
But a transaction still more atrocious than the former Tra«ical
served to. inspire the citizens with a resolution to break story of
all measures of obedience, and at last to restore freedom;, Virginia.
Appius, who still remained at Rome, sitting one day on
his tribunal to dispense justice, sawa maiden of exquisite
beauty, and aged about 15, passing to one of the public
schools, attended by a matron her nurse. Conceiving a
violent passion for her, he resolved to obtain the gratifi¬
cation of his desire whatever should be the consequence,
and found means to inform himself of her name and fa¬
mily. Her name was Virginia, the daughter of Virgi-
nius a centurion, then with the army in the field; and
she had been contracted to Icilius, formerly a tribune of
the people, who had agreed to marry her at the end of
Rome.
' "7'w
ROM [ 142 ] ROM
the present campaign. Appius, at first,resolved, to break
this match, and to espouse her himself: but the laws of
the Twelve Tables had forbidden the patricians to in¬
termarry with the plebeians; and he could not infringe
these, as he was the enactor of them. Nothing there¬
fore remained but a criminal enjoyment: which, as he
was long used to the indulgence of his passions, he resol¬
ved to obtain. After having vainly tried to corrupt the
fidelity of her nurse, he had recourse to another expedi¬
ent, still more guilty. He pitched upon one Claudius,
who had long been the minister of his pleasures, to assert
the beautiful maid was his slave, and to refer the cause
to his tribunal for decision. Claudius behaved exactly
according to his instructions; for entering into the school,
where Virginia was playing among her female compa¬
nions, he seized upon her as his property, and was going
to drag her away by force, but was prevented by the
people drawn together by her cries. At length, after
the first heat of opposition was over, he led the weeping
virgin to the tribunal of Appius, and there plausibly ex¬
posed his pretensions. He asserted, that she was born in
his house, of a female slave, who sold her to the wife of
\ irgmius, who had been barren. That he had several
credible evidences to prove the truth of what he said ;
but that, until they could come together, it was but rea¬
sonable the slave should be delivered into his custody,
being her proper master. Appius seemed to be struck
with the justice of his claims. He observed, that if the
reputed father himself were present, he might indeed be
willing to delay the delivery of the maiden for some
lime: but that it was not lawful for him, in the present
case, to detain her from her master. He therefore ad-
judged her to Claudius, as his slave, to be kept by him
till Virginius should be able to prove hispaternity. This
sentence wasreceived with loud clamours and reproaches
by the multitude: the women, in particular, came round
Virginia, as if willing to protect her from the judge’s
fury; while Icilius, her lover, boldly opposed the decree,
and obliged Claudius to take refuge under the tribunal
of the decemvir. All things now threatened an open in¬
surrection ; when Appius, fearing the event, thought
proper to suspend his judgment till the arrival of Virgi¬
nius, who was then about 11 miles from Rome, with
the army. The day following was fixed for the trial;
and, in the mean time, Appius sent letters to the gene¬
rals to confine Virginius, as his arrival in town might
only serve to kindle sedition among the people. These
letters, however, were intercepted by the centurion’s
friends, who sent him down a full relation of the design
laid against the liberty and the honour of his onlydauah-
ter. Virginius, upon this, pretending the death of a
near relation, got permission to leave the camp, and flew
to Rome, inspired with indignation and revenge. Ac¬
cordingly, the next day he appeared before the^tribunal"
to the astonishment of Appius, leading his weepim’
daughter bythehand, bothhabited in the deepest mourn-
mg. Claudius, the accuser, was also there, and bevan
by making his demand. Virginius next spoke in turn:
he represented that his wife had many children ; that
she had been seen pregnant by numbers; that, if he had
intentions of adopting a suppositious child, he would
have fixed upon a boy rather than a girl; that it was
notorious to all, that his wife had herself suckled her
own child; and that it was surprising such a claim
should be now revived after a 15 years discontinuance. Home.
While the father spoke this with a stern air, Virginia 'wy^
stood trembling by, and, with looks of persuasive inno¬
cence, added weight to all his remonstrances. The peo¬
ple seemed entirely satisfied of the hardship of his case,
till Appius, fearing what he said might have dangerous
effects upon the multitude, interrupted him, under a
pretence of being sufficiently instructed in the merits of
the cause, and finally adjudged her to Claudius, order¬
ing the lictors to carry her off. The lictors, in obedience
to his command, soon drove off the throng that pressed
round the tribunal; and now they seized upon Virginia,
and were delivering her up into the hands of Claudius,
when Virginius, who found that all was over, seemed
to acquiesce in the sentence. He therefore mildly in-
treated Appius to be permitted to take a last farewell of
one whom he had long considered as his child ; and so
satisfied, he would return to his duty with fresh alacrity.
With this the decemvir complied, but upon condition
that their endearments should pass in his presence. Vir¬
ginius, with the most poignant anguish, took his almost
expiring daughter in his arms, for a while supported her
head upon his breast, and wiped away the tears that rol¬
led down her lovely visage: and happening to be near
the shops that surrounded the forum, he snatched up a
knife that lay on the shambles, and buried the weapon
in her breast; then holding it up, reeking with the blood
of his daughter, “ Appius (he cried) by tin's blood of
innocence, I devote thy head to the infernal gods.”
Thus saying, with the bloody knife in his hand, and
threatening destruction to whomsoever should oppose
him, he ran through the city, wildly calling upon the
people to strike for freedom, and from thence went to
the camp, in order to spread a like flame through the
army.
114
The da
Tie no sooner amvedat the camp, followed by a num¬
ber of his friends, but he informed the army of all that
was done, still holding the bloody knife in his hand.
He asked their pardon, and the pardon of the gods, for
having committed so rash an action, but ascribed it all
to the dreadful necessity of the times. The army, al¬
ready predisposed, immediately withshouts echoed their
approbation ; and decamping, left their generals be¬
hind, to take their station once more upon Mount A-
ventine, whither they had retired about 40 years be-
fme. [he other army, which had been to oppose the
Sabines, seemed to feel a like resentment, and came
over in large parties to join them.
Appius, in the mean time, did all he could to quell ^1(
tne disturbances in the city ; but finding the tumult in- 3,
capable of controul, and perceiving that his mortal ene¬
mies, \ alerius and Horatius, were the most active in op¬
position, at first attempted to find safety by flight; ne¬
vertheless, being encouraged by Oppius, who was one
of ns colleagues, he ventured to assemble the senate,
ana urged the punishment of all deserters. The senate,
however, were far from giving him the relief he sought
01 ’ tl1ey foresaw the dangers and miseries that threat¬
ened the state, m case of opposing the incensed army;
t iey therefore dispatched messengers to them, olierin<>;
to restore their former mode of government. To this
proposa a.j t.ie people joyfully assented, and the army
gladly obeyed Appius, and Oppius one of his col¬
leagues, both djed by their own hands in prison. The
other
Pv 0 M [ 143 ] E O M
I other eight decemvir? went into voluntary exile ; and
^ Claudius, the pretended master of Virginia, was driven
1 out after them.
s’e\ istur- Tlie tribunes now grew more turbulent: they pro-
wn . posed two laws; one to permit plebeians to intermarry
with patricians ; and the other, to permit them to be
admitted to the consulship also. The senators received
these proposals with indignation, and seemed resolved to
undergo the utmost extremities rather than submit to
enact them. However, finding their resistance only in¬
crease the commotions of the state, they at last consent¬
ed to pass the law concerning intermarriages, hoping
that this concession would satisfy the people. But they
were to be appeased but for a very short time : for, re¬
turning to their old custom of refusing to enlist upon
the approach of an enemy, the consuls were forced to
hold a private conference with the chief of the senate ;
where, after many debates, Claudius proposed an expe-
1 16 dient as the most probable means of satisfying the peo-
Wi iry pie in the present conjuncture. This was, to create six
^ jes or eight governors in the room of consuls, whereof one
half at least should be patricians. This project was ea¬
gerly embraced by the people ; yet, so fickle were the
multitude, that though many of the plebeians stood, the
choice wholly fell upon the patricians who offered them¬
selves as candidates. These new magistrates were cal¬
led mililary tribunes ; they were at first but three, after¬
wards they were increased to four, and at length to six.
They had the power and ensigns of consuls ; yet that
power being divided among a number, each singly was
of less authority. The first that were chosen only con¬
tinued in office about three months, the augurs ha¬
ving found something amiss in the ceremonies of their
election.
The military tribunes being deposed,theconsuls once
more came into office; and in order to lighten the
weight of business which they wrere obliged to sustain, a
T office new °®ce vVas erected, namely, that of censors, to be
r :nsor chosen every fifth year. Their business was to take an
k tuttd. estimate of the number and estates of the people, and to
distribute them into their proper classes ; to inspect into
the lives and manners of their fellow-citizens; to de-*
grade senators for misconduct; to dismount knights ;
and to turn down plebeians from their tribes into an in¬
ferior, in case of misdemeanour. The two first censors
were Papirius and Sempronius, both patricians ; and
from this order they continued to be elected for near
100 years.
This new creation served to restore peace for some
time among the orders; and the triumph gained over
the Volscians, by Geganius the consul, added to the uni¬
versal satisfaction that reigned among the people.
This calm, however, was but of short continuance :
for, some time after, a famine pressing hard upon the
poor, the usual complaints against the rich were renew¬
ed ; and these, as before, proving ineffectual, produced
new seditions. The consuls were accused of neglect in
not having laid in proper quantities of corn : they, how¬
ever, disregarded the murmurs of the populace, content
118 w‘tl1 exerting all their care in attempts to supply the
1 tur- Passing necessities. But though they did all that could
1 ces by he expected from active magistrates, in providing and
1 .‘Hus a distributing provisions to the poor ; yet Spurius Mcelius,
1 ght, a rich knight, who had bought up all the corn of Tus¬
cany, by far outshone them in liberality. Tills dema.
gogue, inflamed with a secret desire ofbecoming power- Rowe,
ful by the contentions in the state, distributed corn in
great quantities among the poorer sort each day, till his
house became an asylum of all such as wished to ex¬
change a life of labour for one of lazy dependence.
When he had thus gained a sufficient number of parti-
zans, he procured large quantities of arms to be brought
into his house by night, and formed a conspiracy, by
which he was to obtain the command, while some of
the tribunes, whom he had found me ms to corrupt,
were to act under him, in seizing upon the liberties of
his country. Minucius soon discovered the plot; and
informing the senate thereof, they immediately formed
the resolution of creating a dictator, who should have
the power of quelling the coosp'racy wi hoot ppeahng
to the people. Cincinnatus, who was now 80 years
old, was chosen once more to rescue his country from
impending danger. He began by summoning Markus
to appear ; who refused to obey. He next sent Abala, wjj0 is
his master of the horse, to force him; who, meeting killed,
him in the forum, and pressing Maelius to follow him to
the dictator’s tribunal, upon his refusal Ahala killed
him upon the spot. The dictator applauded the resolu¬
tion of his officer, and commanded the conspirator’s
goods to be sold, and his house to be demolished, dis¬
tributing his stores among the people.
The tribunes of the people were much enraged at
the death of Mselius; and, in order to punish the se¬
nate, at the next election, instead of consuls, insisted
upon restoring their military tribunes. With this the
senate were obliged to comply. I he next year, how-
ver, the government returned to its ancient channel,
and consuls were chosen.
The Veientes had long been the rivals of Rome ; Tjie
they had ever taken the opportunity of its internal struction
distresses to ravage its territories, and had even threat- of Yeiirc-
ened its ambassadors, sent to complain of these injuries, solred.
with outrage. In war they had been extremely for¬
midable, and had cut off almost all the Fabian family ;
who, to the number of 30d persons, had voluntarily
undertaken to defend the frontiers against their incur¬
sions. It seemed now therefore determined, that the
city of Veii, whatever it should cost, was to fall ; and
the Romans accordingly sat regularly down before it,
prepared for a long and painful resistance. Ihe
strength of the place, or the unskilfulness of the besie¬
gers, may be inferred from the continuance of the siege,
which lasted for 10 years ; during w hich time the army
continued encamped round it, lying in winter under
tents made of the skins of beasts, and in summer dri¬
ving on the operations of the attack. Various was the
success, and many were the commanders that directed
the siege: sometimes all the besiegers works were de¬
stroyed, and many of their men cut off by sallies from
the town; sometimes they were annoyed by an army
of Veians, who attempted to bring assistance from
without. A siege so bloody seemed to threaten de¬
population to Rome itself, by draining its forces con¬
tinually away; so that a law was obliged to be made
for all the bachelors to marry the widows of the sol¬
diers who were slain. In order to carry it on with
greater vigour, Furius Camillas was created dictator,
and to him was intrusted the sole power of managing
the long protracted war. Camillus, who, without in¬
trigue or any solicitation had raised himself to the first
0 eminence
II 0 ll [ 144 ] It o M
Rome, eminence in the state, had been made one of the cen-
^ sors some time before, and was considered as the head
of that office; he was afterwards made a military tri¬
bune, and had in this post gained several advantages
over the enemy. It was his great courage and abilities
in the above offices that made him thought most worthy
to serve his country on this pressing occasion. Upon
his appointment, numbers of the people flocked to his
standard, confident of success under so experienced a
commander. Conscious, however, that he was unable
to take tire city by storm, he secretly wrought a mine
into it with vast labour, which opened into the midst of
the citadel. Certain thus of success, and finding the city
incapable of relief, he sent to the senate, desiring that
all-who chose to share in the plunder of Veil should im¬
mediately repair to the army. Then giving his men
directions how to enter at the breach, the city was in¬
stantly filled with his legions, to the amazement and
121 consternation of the besieged, who but a moment be-
•Is taken by fore, had rested in perfect security. Thus, like a second
Camillas. Troy, was the city of Veii taken, after a ten years
siege, and with its spoils enriched the conquerors ;
while Camillus himself, transported with the honour of
having subdued the rival of his native city, triumphed
after the manner of the kings of Rome, having his
chariot drawn by four milk-white horses ; a distinction
which did not fail to disgust the majority of the specta¬
tors, as they considered those as sacred, and more proper
122 for doing honour to their gods than their generals.
His genero- His usual good fortune attended Camillus in another
sit? to chc expedition against the Falisci; he routed their army,
ISC1, and besieged their capital city Falerii, which threatened
a long and vigorous resistance. Here a schoolmaster,
who had the care of the children belonging to the
principal men of the city, having found means to de¬
coy them into the Roman camp, offered to put them
into the hands of Cdmi 11 us, as the surest means of in¬
ducing the citizens «to a speedy surrender. The ge¬
neral was struck with the treachery of a wretch whose
duty it was to protect innocence, and not to betray
it; and immediately ordered him to be stripped, his
hands tied behind him, and in that ignominious man¬
ner to be whipped into the town by his own scholars.
This generous behaviour in Camillus effected more
than his arms could do: the magistrates of the town
immediately submitted to the senate, leaving to Ca¬
millus the conditions of their surrender ; who only
fined them in a sum of money to satisfy his army, and
received them under the protection and into the alliance
of Rome.
Notwithstanding the veneration which the virtues of
■Camillus had excited abroad, they seemed but little
adapted to bring over the respect of the turbulent tri¬
bunes at home, as they raised some fresh accusation
against him every day. To their other charges they
added that of his having concealed a part of the plun¬
der of Veii, particularly two brazen gates, for his own
use ; and appointed him a day on which to appear be¬
fore the people. Camillus, finding the multitude ex¬
asperated against him upon many accounts, detesting
their ingratitude, resolved not to wait the ignominy
of a trial; but embracing his wife and children, pre¬
pared to depart from Rome. He had already passed
as far as one of the gates, unattended on his w ay, and
iinla.mpnted. There he could suppress his indignation
no longer; but, turning his face to the Capitol, and Roma
1 fting' up his hands to heaven, intreatecl all the gods
that his country might one day be sensible of their 123
injustice and ingratitude ; and so saying, he passed for- j^si
ward to take refuge at Ardea, where lie afterwards tatyO“0‘
learned that he had been fined 1500 ases by the tri- |
bunes at home.
The Romans indeed soon had reason to repent their
Usage of Camillus ; for now a more formidable enemy
than ever they had met with threatened the republic:
an inundation-of Gauls, leaving their native w oods, un- 124 i
der the command of one Brennus, wasted every thing Italy imi
with fire and sword. It is said that one Coeditius, a C(1 tti
man of the lowest rank, pretended to have heard ami- Gaul5,
raculous voice, which pronounced distinctly these words:
“ Go to the magistrates, and tell them that the Gauls
draw near.” The meanness of the man made his warn¬
ing despised; though, when the event showed the truth
of his prediction, Camillus erected a temple to the un¬
known Deity, and the Romans invented for him the
name of Aius Locutius. Messenger after messenger ar¬
rived with the news of the progress and devastations of
the Gauls but the Romans behaved w ith as much se¬
curity as if it had been impossible for them to have felt
the effects of their depredations. At last envoys ar¬
rived at Rome, imploring the assistance of the republic
against an army of Gauls, which had made an irruption j,- :i
into Italy, and now besieged their city. The occasion Occasion
of the irruption and siege was this : Arunx, one of the their inr
chief men of Clusium in Hetruria, had been guardian sion* i
to a young lucumo, or lord of a lucomony, and had
educated him in his house from his infancy. The lu¬
cumo, as soon as he was of an age to feel the force of
passion, fell in love with his guardian’s wife; and,
upon the first discovery of their intrigue, conveyed her
away. Arunx endeavoured to obtain reparation for the
injury he had received ; but the lucumo, by his interest
and money, gained over the magistrates: so that the in¬
jured guardian, finding no protectors in Hetruria, resol¬
ved to make his application to the Gauls, The people
among all the Celtic nations, to whom he chose to ad¬
dress himself, were the Senones; and, in order to en¬
gage them in his quarrel, he acquainted them with the
great plenty of Italy, and made them taste of some Ita¬
lian wines. Upon this the Senones resolved to follow
him ; and a numerous army was immediately formed,
which passing the Alps, under the conduct of their He-
trurian guide, and leaving theCeltae in Italy unmolested,
fell upon Umbria, and possessed themselves of all the
country from Ravenna to Picenum. They were about
six years in settling themselves in theirnew acquisitions,
while the Romans were carrying on the siege of Veii.
At length Arunx brought the Senones before Clusium,
in order to besiege that place, his wife and her lover
having shut themselves up there. i?6
The senate, being unwilling to engage in an open The Bo-;
war w ith a nation which had never offended them, sent nians
an embassy of three young patricians, all brothers, and an ® J
of the Fabian family, to bring about an accommodation t01E
betw een the two nations. These ambassadors, being ar¬
rived at the camp of the Gauls, and conducted into the
•council, offered the mediation of Rome ; and demanded
of Brennus, the leader of the Gauls, What injury the
Clusini had done him; or what pretensions any people
from a remote country could have upon Fletruria ?
Brennus
It 0 M
[ 145 ]
ROM
I ic. Brennus answered proudly, that his right lay in his
w sword, and that all things beh ngfd to tite brave ; but
that, without having recourse to this primitive law of
nature, he had a just complaint against the Cludans,
who, having more lands than they could cultivate, had
refused to yield to him those they left untilled : And
what other motives had you yourselves, Romans (said
he), to conquer so many neighbouring nations ? You
have deprived the Sabines, the Albans, the Fidenates,
the jFlqui, and the Volsci, of the best part of their ter¬
ritories. Not that we accuse you of injustice ; but it
is evident, that you thought this to be the prime and
most ancient of all laws, to make the weak give way to
the stmng. Forbear therefore to interest yourselves for
the Clusini, or allow us to take the part of the people
you have subdued.”
The Fabii were highly provoked at so haughty an
answer; but, dissemblingtheir resentment, desiredleave
has- to go into the town, under pretence of conferring with
the magistrates. But they were no sooner there, than
they began to stir up the inhabitants to a vigorous de¬
fence; nay, forgetting their character, they put them¬
selves at the head of the besieged in a sally, in which
Q. Fabius, the chief of the ambassadors, slew with his
own hand one of the principal officers of the Gauls.
Hereupon Brennus, calling the gods to witness the per¬
fidiousness of the Romans, and their violating the law
of nations, immediately broke up the siege of Clusium,
and marched leisurely to Rome, having sent a herald
before him to demand that those ambassadors, w ho had
so manifestly violated the law of nations, should be de¬
livered up to him. The Roman senate was greatly
Itvive.
‘7
Imj dent
;om t of
:he
ftlk
I 3
ilie auJs
eqi ‘
ht j be
Bjni
lP ' Rem perplexed between their regard for the law of nations
Pi a re- an(] their affection for the Fabii. The wisest of the
senate thought the demand of the Gauls to be but just
and reasonable: however, as it concerned persons of
great consequence and credit, the conscript fathers i e-
ferred the affair to the people assembled by curiae. As
the Fabian family was very popular, the curiae were so
far from condemning the three brothers, that at the
next election of military tribunes, they were chosen the
first. Brennus, looking upon the promotion of tite Fa¬
bii as a high affront on his nation, hastened his march to
Rome.
As his army was very numerous, the inhabitants of
the towns and villages through which he passed left
their habitations at his approach; but lie stopped no¬
where, declaring that his design was only to be reven¬
ged on the Romans. The six military tribunes, to wit,
Q. Fabius, Cseso Fabius, Caius Fabius, Q. Sulpitius,
Q. Servilius, and Sextus Cornelius, marched out of
Rome at the head of 40,000 men, without either sacri¬
ficing to the gods or consulting the auspices ; essential
ceremonies among a people that drew their courage and
confidence fiom the propitious signs which the augurs
declared to them. As most of the military tribunes
■were young, and men of more valour than experience,
II they advanced boldly against the Gauls, whose army was
70,000 strong. The two armies met near the river
Allia, about ()0 furlongs from Rome. The Romans,
that they might not be surrounded by the enemy, ex¬
tended their wings so far as to make their centre very
thin. Their best troops, to the number of 24 000
men, they posted between the river and the adjoining
hills; the rest they placed cn the hills. The Gauls first
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
13b
attacked the latte:’, w ho being soon put into ro"fusion.,
the forces in the plain were struck with such terror,
that they fled without drawing their swords. In this
general disorder, most of the soldiers, instead of return¬
ing to Rome, fled to Vii: some were drowned as they
endeavoured to swim across the Tiber ; many fell in
the pursuit by the sword of the conquerors : and some
got to Rome, which they filleel with terror and conster¬
nation, it being believed there that all the rest were cut
off. The day after the batTe, Brennus marched his
troops into the neighbourhood of Rome, and encamped
on the banks of the Anio. Thither his scouts brought
him word, that the gates of the city lay open, and that
not one Roman was to he seen on the ramparts. This
made him apprehensiveof some ambuscade, itbeingun-
reasonable to suppose that the Romans would abandon,
their city to be plundered and sacked without making
any resistance. On this consideration he advanced slow¬
ly, which gave the Romans an opportunity to throw
into the Capitol all the men who were fit to bear arms.
They carried into it all the provisions they could get;
and, that they might last the longer, admitted none into jnttMhc CV
the place but such as were capable of defending it. pitot.
As for the city, they had not sufficient forces to de¬
fend it ; and therefore the old men, women, and chil¬
dren, seeing themselves abandoned, fled to the neigh¬
bouring towns. The Vestals, before they left Rome,
took care to hide every thing appropriated to the gods
which they could not carry off. The two palladiums,
and the sacred fire, they took with them. When they
came to the Janiculus, one Albinius, a plebeian, who
was conveying his wife and children in a carriage to a
p’ace of safety, seeing the sacred virgin^ bending under
their load, and their feet bloody, made his family alight,
put the priestesses and their gods into the carriage,
and conuucted them to Csere, a city of Hetruria,
where they met with a favourable reception. The
Vestals remained at Cmre, and there continued to per¬
form the usual rites of religion ; and hence those rites
were called cem«o««W. But while the rest of the ch i Ori uno^
zens at Rome w ere providing for their safety, about 80 the^ord
of the most illustrious and venerable old men, rather ceremonies.
than fly from their native city, chose to devote them¬
selves to death by a vow, which Fabius the high pon¬
tiff pronounced in their names. The Romans believed,
that, by these voluntary devotements to the in'ernal
gods, disorder and confusion was brought eunong the
enemy. Of these brave old men some w-ere pontifices,
other’s had been consuls, and others generals of armies,
who had been honoured with triumphs. To Complete
their sacrifice with a solemnity and pomp becoming the
magnanimity and constancy of the Romans, theydressed
themselves in their pontifical, consular, and triumphal
robes; and repairing to the forum, seated themselves
there in their curule chairs, expecting the enemy and
death with the greatest constancy.
At length Brennus, having spent three days in use- 1{ome pjj_
less precautions, entered the city the fourth day after laged and
the battle. He found the gates open, the walls w ith- burnt,
out defence, and the houses without inhabitants. Rome
appeared to him like a mere desert; and this solitude
increased his anxiety. Fie could not believe, either
that all the Romans were lodged in the Capitol, or that
so numerous a people should abandon the place of their
nativity. On the other hand, he could nowhere see
t T any
E 0 M
[ 146
Rtfmc.
133
-aiiy armed men but on the walls of the citadel. How¬
ever, having first secured all the avenues to the Capitol
with strong bodies of guards, he gave the rest ot his
soldiers leave to disperse themselves all over the city and
plunder it. Brennus himself advanced into the forum
with the troops under his command, in good order ;
and there he was struck with admiration at the unex¬
pected sight of the venerable old men who had devoted
themselves to death. Their magnificent habits, the
majesty of their countenances, the silence they kept,
their modesty and constancy at the approach of his
troops, made him take them for so many deities : for
they continued as motionless as statues, and saw the
enemy advance without showing the least concern. The
Gauls kept a great while at an awful distance from
them, being afraid to come near them. But at length
one soldier bolder than the rest, having out of curiosity
touched the beard of M. Papirius, the venerable old
man, not being used to such familiarity, gave him a
blow on the head with his ivory staff. The soldier in
revenge immediately killed him ; and the rest of the
Gauls following his example, slaughtered all those ve¬
nerable old men without mercy.
After this the enemy set no bounds to their rage
and fury. They plundered all places, dragging such
of the Romans as had shut themselves up in their houses
into the streets, and there putting them to the sword
without distinction of age or sex. Brennus then in¬
vested the Capitol ; but being repulsed with great loss,
bieTvjitof or^er to ke revenged of the Romans for their resist-
1 ’ ance, he resolved to lay the city in ashes. According¬
ly by his command, the soldiers set five to the houses,
demolished the temples and public edifices, and rased
the walls to the ground. Thus was the famous city of
Rome entirely destroyed; nothing was to be seen in
the place where it stood but a few little hills covered
with ruins, and a wide waste, in which the Gauls who
invested the Capitol were encamped. Brennus, finding
he should never he able to take a place which nature
had so well fortified otherwise than by famine, turned
the siege into a blockade. But in the mean time, his
army being distressed for want of provisions, he sent
out parties to pillage the fields, and raise contributions
in the neighbouring cities. One of these parties ap¬
peared before Ardea, where the great Camillas had
now spent two years in a private life. Notwithstand¬
ing the affront he had received at Rome, the love he
bore his country was not in the least diminished. The
senate of Ardea being met to deliberate on the mea¬
sures to he taken with relation to the Gauls, Camillus,
more afflicted at the calamities of his country than at
his own banishment, desired to he admitted into the
council, where, with his eloquence, he prevailed upon
the Ardeates to arm their youth in their own defence,
and refuse the Gauls admittance into their city.
Hereupon the Gauls encamped before the city ; and
as they despised the Ardeates after they had made
themselves masters of Rome, they preserved neither or-
134. der nor discipline in the camp, but spent whole days in
A great drinking. Hereupon Camillus, having easily persuaded
then^cut^tt'^6 yollt^ t^le c‘ty to f°dow him, marched out of
byCamil- •^r^€a a very dark night, surprised the Gauls drown¬
ed in wine, and made a dreadful slaughter of them.
Those who made their escape under the shelter of the
night fell next day into the hands of the peasants, by
las.
] E 0 M
whom they were massacred without mercy. This de- Kmae.
feat of the enemy revived the courage of the Romans
scattered about the country, especially of those who
had retired to Veii after the unfortunate battle of AU
Jia. There was not one of them who did not condemn
himself for the exile of Camillus, as if he had been the
author of it; and looking upon that great man as their
last resource, they resolved to choose him for their lead¬
er. Accordingly, they sent avithout delay ambassadors
to him, beseeching him to take into his protection the
fugitive Romans, and the wrecks of the defeat at ASlia.
But Camillus would not accept of the command of the
troops till the peopleassembled by curiae had legally con¬
ferred it upon him. He thought the public authority
was lodged in the handsof those who were shut upin the
citadel, and therefore would undertake nothing at the
head of the Roman troops till a commission was brought
him from thence.
To do this was very difficult, the place being invested
on all sides by the enemy. However, one Pontius Co-
minius, a man of mean birth, hut bold and very ambi¬
tious of glory, undertook it. He put on a light habit,
and, providing himself with cork to keep the longer
above water, threAV himself into the Tiber above Rome
in the beginning of the night, and suffered himself to
he carried down Avith the stream. At length he came
to the foot of the Capitol, and landed at a steep place
Avhere the Gauls had not thought it necessary to post
any centinels. There he mounted with great difficulty
to the rampart of the citadel; and having made himself
known to the guards, he was admitted into the place,
and conducted to the magistrates. The senate being 135
immediately assembled, Pontius gave them an account
of Camillus’s victory; and in the name of all the Ro- clictator'
mans at Veii demanded that great captain for their ge¬
neral. There was not much time spent in debates : the
curiae being called together, the act of condemnation
Avhich had been passed on Camillus was abrogated, and
he named dictator with one voice. Pontius Avas imme¬
diately dispatched with the decree ; and the same good
fortune which had attended him to the Capitol accom¬
panied him in his return. Thus was Camillus, from the
state of banishment, raised at once to be sovereign ma¬
gistrate of his country. His promotion to the com¬
mand Avas no sooner knoAvn, but soldiers flocked from
all parts to his camp; insomuch that he soon saAv him¬
self at the bead of above 40,000 men, partly Romans
and partly allies, who all thought themselves invincible
under so great a general.
While lie was taking proper measures to raise the TheGai
blockade of the citadel, some Gauls rambling round the endeavo
place, perceived on the side of the hill the print of Pon- t0 s“rPr
tius’s hands and feet. They observed likewise, that the ^ ^
moss on the rocks was in several places torn up. From
these marks they concluded, that somebody had lately
gone up to and returned from the Capitol. The Gauls
immediately made their report to Brennus of what they
had observed ; and that experienced commander laid a
design, which he imparted to nobody, of surprising the
place by the same way that the Roman had ascended.
Vvith this view he chose out of the army such soldiers
as had dwelt in mountainous countiies, and been accu¬
stomed from their youth to climb precipices. These
he ordered, after he had Avell examined the nature of
the place, to ascend in the night the same way that Avas
marked
II 0 M L 1
5 marked out for tliem ; climbing two abreast, tliat one
might support the other in getting up the steep parts
of the precipice. By this means they advanced with
much difficulty from rock to rock, till they arrived at
the foot of the wall. They proceeded with such silence,
that they were not discovered or heard, either by the
centinels who were upon guard in tiie citadel, or even
by the dogs, that are usually awaked and alarmed at
the least noise. But though they eluded the sagacity
of the dogs, they could not escape the vigilance of the
geese. A flock of these birds was kept in a court of
the Capitol in honour of Juno, and near her temple.
Notwithstanding the want of provisions in the garrison,
they had been spared out of religion ; and as these
creatures are naturally quick of hearing, they were
alarmed at the first approach of the Gauls: so that
running up and down, with their cackling and beating
of their wings, they awaked Manlius, a gallant soldier,
who some years before had been consul. He sounded
an alarm, and was the first man who mounted theram-
K 137 part, where he found two Gauls already upon the wall,
bi are dis* One of these offered to discharge a blow at him with
C< Ise/11^ ^attle-^xe ; but Manlius cut offhis right hand at one
r> b l' blow, and gave the other such a push with his buckler,
that he threw him headlong from the top of the rock,
to the bottom. He, in his fall, drew many others with
him; and in the mean time, the Homans crowding to
the place, pressed upon the Gauls, and tumbled them
one over another. As the nature of the ground would
not suffer them to make a regular retreat, or even to fly,
most of them, to avoid the swords of the enemy, threw
themselves down the precipice, so that very tew got
safe back to their camp.
As it was the custom of the Romans at that time
not to suffer any commendable action to go unreward¬
ed, the tribune Sulpitius assembled his troops the next
morning, in order to bestow the military rewards on
those who,the night before,had deserved them. Among
these Manlius was first named; and, in acknowledg¬
ment of the important service he had just rendered the
state, every soldier gave him part of the corn which he
received sparingly from the public stock, and a little
measure of wine out of his scanty allowance ; an incon¬
siderable present indeed in itself, but very acceptable at
that time to the person on whom it was bestowed. The
tribune’s next care was to punish the negligent: accord¬
ingly the captain of the guard, who ought to have had
an eye over the eentinels, v/as condemned to die, and,
pursuant to his sentence, thrown down from the top of
the Capitol. The Romans extended their punishments
and rewards even to the animals. Geese were ever after
had in honour at Rome, and a flock of them always kept
at the ex pence of the public. A golden image of a
goose was erected in memory of them, and a goose every
year carried in triumph upon a soft litter finely adorn¬
ed ; whilst dogs were held in abhorrence by the Ro¬
mans, who every year impaled one of them on a branch
of elder.
The blockade of the Capitol had already lasted seven
months ; so that the famine began to be very sensibly
felt both by the besieged and besiegers. Camilius,
since his nomination to the dictatorship, being master
of the country, had posted strong guards on all the
roads ; so that the Guals dared not stir out for fear
of being cut to pieces. Thus Brennus, who besieged
■17 ] II 0 M
the Capitol, was besieged himself, and suffered the same fG’-ue.
inconveniences which he made the Romans undergo. W'~Y
Besides, a plague raged in his camp, which was placed
in the midst of the ruins of the demolished city, his men
lying confusedly among the dead carcases of the Ro¬
mans, whom they had slain, and not buried. So great
a number of them died in one quarter of the c;ty, tnat
' it was afterwards called Busta Gallica, or the p ace
where the dead bodies of the Gauls were burnt. But,
in the mean time, the Romans in the Capitol were
more pinched with want than the Gauls. I hey were
reduced to the last extremity, and at the same time ig¬
norant both of the lamentable condition to which the
enemy’s army was brought, and of the steps Camilius
was taking to relieve them. That great general only
waited for a favourable opportunity to fall upon the
enemy; but, in the mean time, suffered them to pine
away in their infected camp, not knowing the extreme
want the Romans endured in the Capitol, where they
were so destitute of all sorts of provisions, that they
could no longer subsist. Matters being brought to this
sad pass on both sides, the centinels of the Capitol, and
those of the enemy’s army, began to talk to one ano¬
ther of sn accommodation. Their discourses came at
length to the ears of their leaders, who were not averse
to the design.
The senate, not knowing what was become of Camil¬
la'!, and findingthemselves hard pinched by hunger, re¬
solved to enter upon a negociation,and empowered Sul¬
pitius, one of the military tribunes, to treat with the
Gauls; who made no great difficulty in coming to
terms, they being no less desirous than the Romans to
put an end to the war. In a conference, therefore, be¬
tween Breunus and Sulpitiu5, an agreement was made,
and sworn to. The Romans were to pay to the Gauls Tjie jio.
1000 pounds weight of gold, that is, 45,0001. sterling; mans agree
and the latter were to raise the siege of the Capitol, to pay loco
and quit all the Roman territories. On the day ap- of
pointed, Sulpitius brought the sum agreed on, and fheir rau-
Brcnnus the scales and weights; for there were no gold som.
or silver coins at that time, metals passing only by
weight. We are told, that the weights of the Gauls
were false, and their scales untrue; which Sulpitius
complaining of, Brennus, instead of redressing the in¬
justice, threw his sword and belt into the scale where
the weights were ; and when the tribune asked him the
meaning of so extraordinary a behaviour, the only an¬
swer he gave was Vac Victim / “ Wo to the conquered !”
Sulpitius was so stung with this haughty answer, that
he was for carrying the gold back into the Capitol, and
sustaining the siege to the last extremity; but others
thought it advisable to put up the affront, since they had
submitted to a far greater one, which was to pay any
thing at all.
During these disputes of the Roman deputies among
themselves and with the Gauls,Camilius advanced with
his army to the very gates of the city; and being there
informed of what was doing, he commanded the main
body to follow him slowly and in good order, while he,
with the choicest of his men, hastened to the place of
the parley. The Romans, overjoyed at his unexpected
arrival, opened to make room for him as the supreme
magistrate of the republic, gave him an account of the
treaty they had made with the Gauls, anti complained
of the wrong Brennus did them in the execution of it.
T 2 They
It 0 M
''Rome. They had scarce done speaking, when Camillus cried
out, “ Carry back this gold into the Capitol: and you,
139 Gaul®, retire with your scales and weights. Rome
Camillas must not be redeemed with gold, but with steel.’ Hren-
th^Gavls^ nus reP^e(^> That he contravened a treaty which was
concluded and confirmed with mutual oaths. “ Be it
so (answered Camillus) ; yet it is of no force, having
been made by an inferior magistrate, without the privi¬
ty or consent of the dictator. I, who am invested wi’.h
the supreme authority over the Romans, declare the
contract void.” At these words Brennus flew into a
rage ; and both sides drawing their swords, a confused
scuffle ensued among the ruins of the houses, and in the
narrow lane?. The Gauls, after an inconsiderable loss,
thought fit to retire within their camp, which they
abandoned in the night, not caring to engage Camil-
lus’s whole army, and, having marched eight miles, en¬
camped on the Gabinian way. Camillus pursued them
as soon as it was day, and, coming up with them, gave
them a total overthrow. The Gauls, arcording to Li¬
vy, made but a faint resistance, beingdisheartened at the
140 loss they had sustained the day before. It was not.
The Gauls says that author, so much a battle as a slaughter. Ma-
entirely cut 0f {;jie Gauls were slain in the action, more in the
pursuit; but the greater number were cut ofi’ as they
wandered up and down in the fields, by the inhabitants
of the neighbouring villages. In short, there was not
one sing'e Gaul left to carry to his countrymen the
news of this fatal catastrophe. The camp of the barba¬
rians was plundered ; and Camillus, loaded with spoils,
returned in triumph to the city, the soldiers in their
songs styling him Romulus, Father of his country, and
Second founder of Rome.
As the houses of Rome were all demolished, and the
"walls razed, the tribunes of the people renewed, with
more warmth than ever, an old project which had occa-
i ti sioned great disputes. They had formerly proposed a
about^re ^aW ^0r t^ie senate and government between
moving6to ^ie c^'es an(l Rome. Now this law was revi-
Veii. : nay, most of the tribunes were for entirely aban¬
doning their old mined city, and making Veii the sole
seat of the empire. The people were inclined to favour
the project, Veii offering them a p1ace fortified by art
and nature, good houses ready built, a wholesome air,
and a fruitful territory. On the other hand, they had
no materials for rebuilding a whole city, were quite
exhausted by misfortunes, and even their strength was
grearly diminished. This gave them a reluctance to so
great an undertaking, and emboldened the tribunes to
utter seditious harangues against Camillas, as a man
too ambitious of being the restorer of Rome. They
even insinuated that the name of Romulus, which had
been given him, threatened the republic with a new
king. But the senate took the part of Camillus, and,
being desirous to see. Rome rebuilt, continued him^
contrary to custom, a full year in the office of dictator ;
during which time he made it his whole business to sup¬
press the strong inclination of the people to remove
to Veii. Having assembled the curiae, he expostulated
with them upon the matter: and by arguments drawn
irem prudence, religion, and glory,prevailed upon them
to lay aside all thoughts of leaving Rome. As it was
necessary to have the resolution of the people confirmed
by the senate, the dictator repoi ted it to the conscript
fathers, 1 aving every one at full liberty to .vote as he
n o m
pleased. While L. Lucretius, who was to give his Rome,
opinion the first, was beginning to speak, it happened
that a centurion, who with Ivs company had been upon
guard, and was then inarching by the senate-house,
cried out aloud, “ Plant your colours, ensign : this is
the best place to stay in.” The e words were consider¬
ed as dictated by the gods themselves; and Lucretius,
taking occasion from them to urge the necessity of stay¬
ing in Rome, “ An happy omen (cried he) ; I adore
the gods who gave it.” The whole senate applauded
his words ; and a decree was passed without opposition
for rebuilding the city.
Though the tribunes of the people were defeated
by Camillus in this point, they resolved to exercise their
authority against another patrician, who had indeed de¬
served punishment. This was Q. Fabius, who had vio¬
lated the laws of nations, and thereby provoked the
Gauls, and occasioned the burning of Rome. His
crime being notorious, he wras summoned by C. Mar¬
tins Rutilus before the assembly of the people, to an¬
swer for his conduct in his embassy. The criminal had
reason to fear the severest punishment: buthis relations
gave out that he died suddenly ; which generally hap¬
pened when the accused person had courage enough to
prevent his condemnation, and the shame of a public
punishment. On the other hand, the public gave ^Iarc“s
an house situated on the Capitol to M. Manlius, as a
monument of his valour, and of the gratitude of his
felkw citizens. Camillus closed this year by laying
down his dictatorship : whereupon an interregnum en¬
sued, during which he governed the state alternately
w ith P. Cornelius Scipio ; and it fell to his lot to preside
at the election of new magistrates, when L. Valerius
Poplicola, L. Virginias Tricostus, P. Cornelius Cossus,
A. Manlius Capitolinas, L. iEmilius Mamercinus, and
L. Posthumius Albums, were chosen. The first care
of these new magistrates was to collect all the ancient
monuments of the religion and civil laws of Rome
which could be found among the ruins of the demolish¬
ed city. The laws of the twelve tables, and some of
the lav/s of the kings, had been written on brass,, and
fixed up in the forum; and the treaties made with se¬
veral nations had been engraved on pillars erected in
the temples. Pains wrere therefore taken to gather up
the ruins of these precious monuments ; and what could
not be found was supplied by memory. The ponti-
fices, on their part, took care to re-establish the reli¬
gious ceremonh s, and made also a list of lucky and un¬
lucky days. 14J
And now the governors of the republic applied them- Thecitjr
selves wholly to rebuild the city. Plutarch tells us, rel)'a^
that as the workmen were digging among the ruins of
the temple of Mars, they found Romulus's augural staff
untouched by the flames ; and that this was looked
upon as a prodigy, from w hence the Romans inferred
that their city w ould continue for ever. The expence
ot building private houses wras partly defrayed out of
the public treasure. The aediles had tbe direction of the
works; but they had so little taAe for order or beauty,
that the city, when rebuilt, was even less regular than in
the oi Romulus. And though in Augustus’s time,;
when Rome became the capital of the known world,
the temples, pa'aces and private houses, w ere built in
a more magnificent manner than before ; yet even then
these new' decorations did not rectify the faults of the
plan
[ HS ]
11 O M
[ 149 ]
E O M
lloaie. plan upon the city had been built after its first
demolition.
Ut Rome was scarce restored, when her citizens were
general alarmed by the news that all her neighbours were com-
| ;na"rst bining to her (destruction. The the \olsci, the
'ro-111*5 Hetrurians, and even her old friends the Latins and
ns. the Hernici, entered into an alliance against her, in
hopes of oppressing her before she had recovered her
strength. The republic, under this terror, nominated
Camillus dictator a third time. This great commander,
having appointed Servilius to be his general of horse,
summoned the citizens to take arms, without excepting
even the old men. He divided the new levies into three
bodies. The first, under the command of A. Manlius,
he ordered to encamp under the walls of Rome; the
second he sent into the neighbourhood of Veii; and
marched himself at the head of the third, to relieve the
tribunes, who were closely besieged in their camp by
the united forces of the Volsci and Latins. Finding the
enemy encamped nearLanuvium, on the declivity of the
hill Marcius, he posted himself behind it, and by light¬
ing fires, gave the distressed Romans notice of his arri¬
val. The Volsci and Latins, when they understood that
Camillus was at the head of an army newly arrived,
were so terrified, that they shut themselves up in their
camp, which they fortified with great trees cut down in
millus haste. The dictator, observing that this barrier was of
feats the green wood, and that every morning there arose a great
jlsci and wind, which blew full upon the enemy’s camp, formed
:Uns’ the design of taking it by fire. With this view he or¬
dered one part of his army to go by break of day with
fire-brands to the windward side of the camp, and the
other to make a brisk attack on the opposite side. By
this means the enemy were entirely defeated, and their
camp taken. Camillus then commanded his men to ex¬
tinguish the flames, in order to save the booty, with
which he rewaided his army. He then left his son in
the camp to guard the prisoners; and, entering the
country of the /Equi, made himself master of their capi¬
tal city Bola. From thence he marched against the
Volsci; whom he entirely reduced, after they had waged
war with the Romans for the space of 107 years. Hav¬
ing subdued this untractable people, he penetrated into
Hetruria, in order to relieve Sutrium, a town in that
country in alliance with Rome, anti besieged by a nu¬
merous army of Hetrurians. But, notwithstanding all
the expedition Camillus could use, he did not reach the
place before it had capitulated. The Sutrini, being
greatly distressed for want of provisions, and exhausted
with labour, had surrendered to the Hetrurians, who
had granted them nothing but their lives, and the
clothes on their backs. In this destitute condition they
had left their own country, and were going in search
of new habitations, when they met Camillus leading
l W an army to their relief.
md the The unfortunate multitude no sooner saw the Ro-
(letmmns. mans, but they threw themselves at the dictator’s feet,
who, moved at this melancholy sight, desired them to
take a little rest, and refresh themselves, adding, that
he would soon dry up their tears, and transfer their
sorrows from them to their enemies. Fie imagined,
that the Hetmrians would be wholly taken up in plun¬
dering the city, without being upon their guard, or
observing any discipline. And herein he w^as not mis¬
taken. The Hetrurians did not dream that the dic¬
tator could come so speedily from such a distance to
surprise them; and therefore were wholly employed in
plundering the houses and carrying oft’ the booty, or
feasting on the provisions they had found in them.
Many of them were put to the sword, and an incredible
number made prisoners; and the city was restored to its
ancient inhabitants, who had not waited in vain for the
performance of the dictator’s promise. And now, after
these glorious exploits, which were finished in soshoit
a time, the great Camillus entered Rome in triumph a
third time.
Camillus having resigned his dictatorship,, the repub¬
lic chose six iicav military tribunes, Q. Quinctius, Q.
Servius, L. Julius, L. Aquilius, L. Lucretius, and Ser.
Sulpitius. During their administration the country of
the iEqui was laid waste, in order to put it out of their
power to revolt anew ; and the two cities of Cortuosa
and Contenebra, in the lucumony of the Tarquinienses,
were taken from the Hetrurians, and entirely demolish¬
ed. At this time it was thought proper to repair the
Capitol, and add new works to that part of the hill
where the Gauls had endeavoured to scale the citadel.
These w orks were esteemed very beautiful, as Livy in¬
forms us, even in the time of Augustus, after the city
was embellished with most magnificent decorations.
And now Rome being reinstated in her former
flourishing condition, the tribunes of the people, who
had been for some time quiet, began to renew' their se¬
ditious harangues, and revive the old quarrel about the
division of the conquered land. The patricians had
appropriated to themselves the Pomptin territory lately
t iken from the Volsci, and the tribunes laid hold of this
opportunity to raise new disturbances. But the citi¬
zens being so drained of their money that they had not
enough left to cultivate new farms and stock them with
cattle, the declamations of the tribunes made no impres¬
sion upon their minds ; so that the project vanished.
As for the military tribunes, they owned that their
election had been defective ; and, lest the irregularities
of the former comitia should be continued in the suc¬
ceeding ones, they voluntarily laid down their office^
So that, after a short interregnum, during which M.
Manlius, Ser. Sulpitius, and L. Valerius Potitus, go¬
verned the republic, six new military tribunes L. Papi-
rius, C. Sergius, L. /Emilius, L. Menenius, L. Vale¬
rius, and C. Cornelius, were chosen for the ensuing
year, which was spent in works of peace. A temple,
which had been vowed to Mars during the wrar with
the Gauls, was built, and consecrated by T. Quinctius,
wdio presided over the affairs of religion. As there had
hitherto been but few Roman tribes beyond the Tiber
which had a right of suffrage in the comitia, four new
ones were added, under the name of the Stellatina, Tra-
monlina, Sabalina, and Arniensis; so that the tribeswere
now in all 25, which enjoyed the same rights and privi¬
leges.
The expectation of an approaching wTar induced the
centuries to choose Camillus one of the military tribunes
for the next year. His colleagues were Ser. Cornelius,
Q. Servilius, L. Quinctius, L. Horatius, and P. Va¬
lerius. As all these w'ere men of moderation, they
agreed to invest Camillus with the sole management of
affairs in time of war; and accordingly in iull senate
transferred all their power into his hands ; so that he
became in effect dictator. It had been already deter¬
mined
Rome.
ur
Unbounded
power con¬
ferred on
Camilla*.
148
v.lio gives
the Anti-
ates, &c. a
great lie-
t'eat.
119
His other
Successes.
It 0 M r 150 11 0 M
mined in the senate to turn the amis of the republic
against the Hetrurians ; but, upon advice that the An-
tiates had entered tlie Pomptin territory, and obliged
the Romans who had taken possession of it to retire, it
was thought necessary to humble them before the re¬
public engaged in any other enterprise. The Antiates
had joined the Latins and Hernici near Satricum ; so
that the Romans, being terrified at their prodigious
numbers, shewed themselves very backward to engage :
which Camillus perceiving, he instantly mounted his
horse, and riding through all the ranks of the army,
encouraged them by a proper speech after which lie
dismounted, took the next standard-beaier by the hand,
led him towards the enemy, and cried out, Soldiers, ad¬
vance. The soldiery were ashamed not to follow a ge¬
neral who exposed himself to the first attack; and there¬
fore, having made a great shout, they fell upon the
enemy with incredible fury. Camillus, in order to in¬
crease their eagerness still more, commanded a standard
to be thrown into the middle of the enemy’s battalions;
which made the soldiers, who were fighting in the first
ranks, exert all the resolution they could to recover it.
The Antiates, not being able any longer to make head
against the Romans, gave way, and were entirely de¬
feated. The Latins and Hernici separated from the
Volsci, and returned home. The Volsci, seeing them¬
selves thus abandoned by their allies, took refuge in the
neighbouring city of Satricum ; which Camillus imme¬
diately invested, and took by assault. The Volsci threw
dovm their arms, and surrendered at discretion. ITe
then lefth'S army under the command of Valerius ; and
returned to Rome to solicit the consent of the senate,
and to make the necessary preparations for undertaking
the siege of Antium.
But, while he was proposing this affair to the se¬
nate, deputies arrived from Kepet and Sutrium, two ci¬
ties in alliance with Rome in the neighbourhood of* He-
truria, demanding succours against the Hetrurians,
who threatened to besiege these two cities, which were
the keys of Hetruria. Hereupon the expedition against
Antium was laid aside, and Camillus commanded to
hasten to the relief of the allied cities, with the troops
which Servilius had kept in readiness at Rome in case
of an emergency. Camillus immediately set out for the
new war : and, upon his arrival before Sutrium, found
that important place not only besieged, but almost ta¬
ken, the Hetrurians having made themselves masters of
some of the gates, and gained possession of all the ave¬
nues leading to the city. However, the inhabitants no
sooner heard that Camillus was come to their relief, but
they recovered their courage, and, by barricadoes made
in the streets, prevented the enemy from making them¬
selves masters of the whole city. Camillus in the mean
time having divided his army into two bodies, ordered
Valerius to march round the walls, as if he designed to
scale them, while he with the other undertook to charge
the Hetrurians in the rear, force his way into the city,
and shut up the enemy between the besieged and his
troops. The Romans no sooner appeared but the He¬
trurians betook themselves to a disorderly flight through
a gate which was not invested. Camillus’s troops made
a dreadful slaughter of them within the city, while Va¬
lerius put great numbers of them to the sword without
the walls. From reconquering Sutrium, Camillus has¬
tened to the relief of Nepet, Rut that city being bet¬
ter affected to the Hetrurians than to the Romans, had JLmc. j
voluntarily submitted to the former. Wherefore Ca-
millus, having invested it with his whole army, took it
by assault, put all the Hetrurian soldiers without dis¬
tinction to the sword, and condemned the authors of
the revolt to die by the axes of the lictors. Thus end¬
ed Camillus’s military tribuneship, in which lie acquired
no less reputation than he had done in the most glorious
of his dictatorships. , I
In the following magistracy of six military tribunes. Ambition
a dangerous sedition is said to have taken place through of M. Ma
the ambition of Marcus Manlius, who had saved the ^us> 1
Capitol from the Gauls in the manner already related.
Though this man had pride enough to despise all the
other great men in Rome, yet he envied Camillus, and
took every opportunity of magnifying his own exploits
beyond those of the dictator. But not finding such a
favourable reception from the nobility as he desired, lie
concerted measures with the tribunes of the people, and
strove to gain the affections of the multitude. Not con¬
tent with renewing the proposal for the distribution of
conquered lands, he also made himself an advocate for
insolvent debtors, of whom there was now a great num*
ber, as most of the lower class had been obliged to
borrow money in order to rebuild their houses. The
senate, alarmed at this opposition, created A. Cornelius
Cossus dictator, for which the war with the Volsci af¬
forded them a fair pretence. Manlius, however, still
continued to inflame the people against the patricians.
Besides the most unboundedpersonal generosity, he held
assemblies at his own house (in the citadel), where he
confidently gave out that the senators, not content with
being the possessors of those lands which ought to have
been equally divided among all the citizens, had con¬
cealed with an intent to appropriate it to their own
use, all the gold which was to have been paid to the
Gauls, and which would alone be sufficient to discharge
the debts of all the poor plebeians; and he moreover
promised to show in due time where this treasure wa*
concealed. For this assertion he was brought before
the dictator ; who commanded him to discover where
the pretended treasure was, or to confess openly before
the whole assembly that he had slandered the senate.—
Manlius replied, that the dictator himself, and the prin¬
cipal persons in the senate, could only give the proper
intelligence of this treasure, as they had been the most
active in securing it. Upon this he was committed to
prison ; but the people made such disturbance, that the
senate were soon after fain to release him. By this he
was emboldened to continue his former practices ; till at
last the senate gave an order to the military tribunes to
take care that the commonwealth suffered no detriment
from the pernicious projects of Marcus Manlius, and
even gave them authority to assassinate him, if they
found it necessary so to do. At last, however, he wa,s
publicly accused of aspiring to be king; however, the
people, it is said, were so struck with gratitude, on ac¬
count of his having delivered the Capitol from the Gauls,
that they could not resolve to condemn him. But the
military tribunes, who, it seems, were bent on his de¬
struction, having appointed the assembly to be held
without the city, there obtained their wish. Manlius dj
was throwui headlong from the Capitol itself: it was whois
thenceforth decreed that no patrician should dwell in anlTexi
the Capitol or citadel; and the Manlian family resolved ted. I
that
Home.
152
r;ir with
e Satia¬
tes.
R 0 M [ 1
that no member of it should ever afterwards bear the
praenomen of Marcus. No sooner was Manlius dead,
however, than the people lamented his fate; and because
a plague broke out soon after, they imputed it to the
anger of the gods on account of the destruction of the
hero who had saved the state (a).
The Romans, having nowtriumphed over the Sabines,
the Etrurians, the Latins, the Hernici, the hEqui, and
the Volscians, began to look for greater conquests.
They accordingly turned their arms against the Sam-
nites, a people about 100 miles east from the city, de¬
scended from the Sabines, and inhabiting a large tract
of southern Itaiy, which at this day makes a consider¬
able part of the kingdom of Naples. Valerius Corvus
and Cornelius were the two consuls, to whose care it
first fell to manage this dreadful contention between the
rival states.
Valerius was one of the greatest commanders of his
time; he was surnamed Corvus, from a strange cir¬
cumstance of being assisted by a crow in a single com¬
bat, in which he fought and killed a Gaul of a gigan¬
tic stature. To his colleague’s care it was consigned to
lead an army to Samnium, the enemy’s capital; while
Corvus was sent to relieve Capua, the capital of the
Campanians. The Samnites were the bravest men the
Romans had ever yet encountered, and the contention
between the twTo nations was managed on both sides
with the most determined resolution. But the fortune
of Rome prevailed ; the Samnites at length fled, aver¬
ring, that they were not able to withstand the fierce
looks and the fire-darting eyes of the Romans. The
other consul, however, was not at first so fortunate ;
for having unwarily led his army into a defile, he was
in danger of being cut off, had not Decius, a tribune
of the army, possessed himself of a hill which com¬
manded the enemy : So that the Samnites, being at¬
tacked on either side, were defeated with great slaugh¬
ter, no less than 30,000 of them being left dead upon
the field of battle.
Some time after this victory, the soldiers who were
stationed at Capua mutinying, forced Quintius, an old
and eminent soldier, who was then residing in the coun-
try; b) be their leader; and, conducted by their rage
more than their general, came within eight miles of
the city. So terrible an enemy, almost at the gates,
not a little alarmed the senate; who immediately created
Valerius Corvus dictator, and sent him forth with ano¬
ther army to oppose them. The two armies were now
drawn up against each other, while fathers and sons be¬
held themselves preparing to engage in opposite causes;
but Corvus knowing his influence among the soldierv,
instead of going forward to meet the mutineers in an
hostile manner, went with the most cordial friendship
to embrace and expostulate with his old acquaintances.
His conduct had the desired effect. Quintius, as their
speaker, only desired to have their defection from their
emty forgiven ; and as for himself, as he was innocent
51 ] 11 O M
of their conspiracy, he had no reason to solicit pardon Home
for his offences. ''*■
A war betv/een the Romans and the Latins followed
soon after; but as their habits, arms, and language,
were the same, the most exact discipline was necessary
to prevent confusion in the engagement. Orders,
therefore, were issued by Manlius the consul, that no
soldier should leave his ranks upon whatever provoca¬
tion ; and that he should be certainly put to death who
should offer to do otherwise. With these injunctions,
both armies were drawn ou* in array, and ready to be¬
gin ; when Metius, the general of the enemy’s cavalry,
pushed forward from his lines, and challenged any
knight in the Roman army to single combat. For some
time there was a general pause, no soldier offering to
disobey his orders, till Titus Manlius the consul’s own
son, burning with shame to see the w hole body of the
Romans intimidated, boldly sallied out against his ad¬
versary. The soldiers on both sides for a while suspend¬
ed the general engagement to be spectators of this
fierce encounter. Manlius killed his adversary ; and
then despoiling him of his armour, returned in triumph
to his father’s tent, where he was preparing and giving
orders relative to the engagement. Howsoever he
might have been applauded by his fellow-soldiers, being
as yet doubtful of the reception he should find from his
father, he came, with hesitation, to lay the enemy’s
spoils at his feet, and with a modest air insinuated, that
what he did wras entirely from a spirit of hereditary vir¬
tue. But he was soon dreadfully made sensible of his
error, when his father, turning aw ay, ordered him to
be led publicly forth before the army, and there to
have his head struck off on account of his disobeying
orders. The whole anny was struck wuth horror at
this unnatural mandate: fear for a while kept them in
suspense; but when they saw their young champion’s
head struck off, and his blood streaming upon the
ground, they could no longer contain their execrations
and their groans. His dead body wras carried forth
without the camp, and being adorned with the spoils of
the vanquished enemy, was buried with all the pomp of
military distress. 153
In the mean time, the battle joined with mutual A bloody
fury; and as the two armies had often fought under ^al^c with
the same leaders, they combated with all the animo- t!ie LatinSj’
sity of a civil war. The Latins chiefly depended on
their bodily strength ; the Romans, on their invincible
courage and conduct. Forces so nearly matched seem¬
ed only to require the protection of their deities to turn
the scale of victory ; and, in fact, the augurs had fore¬
told, that whatever part of the Roman army should be
distressed, the commander of that part should devote
himself for his country, and die as a sacrifice to the im¬
mortal gods. Manlius commanded the right wing, and
Decius led on the left. Both sides fought for some time
with doubtful success, as their courage was equal; but,
after a time, the left wing of the Roman army began to
give
v A ) I ko above accounts are exactly conformable to what is to be found in the best Latin histories ; neverthe¬
less they are far from being reckoned universally authentic. Mr ;
Manlius, has gn en \ ery strong reasons against believing either that Camillus rescued the gold li
la“ w.vs condemned. See Hooke’s Roman History, vol. ii. p. 326, cl scq.
Hooke, in his annotations on the death of M.
om the Gauls, or
ii O M [ 152 ] K O' M
Home. wive ground. It was then that Uee-ns, ulio ccmmana-
Wy—^ etl there, resolved to devote himself for his country, and
to offer his own life as an atonement to save his army.
Thus determined, he called out to Manlius with a loud
voice, and demanded his instructions, as lie was the chief
pontiff, how to devote himself, and the form ol tne
words he should use. By his directions, therefore, be¬
ing clothed in a long robe, his head covered, and his
arms stretched forward, standing upon a javelin, he de¬
voted himself to the celestial and internal gods for the
safety of Rome. Then arming himself, and mounting
on horseback, he drove furiously into the midst of the
enemy, carrying terror and consternation wherever he
came, till he fell covered with wounds. In the mean
time, the Roman army considered his devoting himself
in this manner as an assurance of success ; nor was the
superstition of the Latins less powerfully influenced by
his resolution; a total rout began to ensue: the Ro-
j . ^ mans pressed them on every side ; and so great was the
vho are carnage, that scarce a fourth part of the enemy survived
totally cle- the defeat This was the last battle of any consequence
tented and that the Latins had with the Romans : they were forced
subdued. to a ,peace Up0n hard conditions ; and two years
after, their strongest city, Paedum, being taken, they
were brought under an entire submission to the Roman
power.
A signal disgrace which the Romans sustained about
this time in their contest with the Samnites, made a
pause in their usual good fortune, and turned the scale
for a while in the enemy's favour. The senate having
denied the Samnites peace, Pontius their general was
resolved to gain by stratagem what he had frequently
lost by force. Accordingly, leading his army into a
defile called Claudium, and taking possession of all its
outlets, he sent 10 of his soldiers, habited like shepherds,
with directions to throw themselves in the way the Ro¬
mans were to march. The Roman consul met them,
and taking them for what they appeared, demanded the
route the Samnite army had taken ; they, with seeming
indifference, replied, that they were going to Luceria, a
town in Apulia, and were then actually besieging it.
The Roman general, not suspecting the stratagem that
was laid against him, marched directly by the shortest
road, which lay through the defiles, to relieve the city ;
and was not undeceived till he saw his army surrounded,
and blocked up on every side. Pontius thus having the
Romans entirely in his power, first obliged the army to
pass under the yoke, having been previously stripped of
all but their garments ; he then stipulated that they
should wholly quit the territories of the Samnites, and
that they should continue to live upon terms of former
confederacy. The Romans were constrained to submit
to this ignominious treaty, and marched into Capua dis¬
armed and half naked When the army arrived at
Rome, the whole city was most surprisingly afflicted at
their shameful return; nothing but grief and resentment
Was to be seen, and thewhole city was put into mourning.
But this was a transitory calamity ; the war was car¬
ried on as usual for many years: the power of the
Samnites declining every day, while that of the Ro¬
mans continually increased. Under the conduct of P.i-
pirius Cursor, who was at different times consul and
dictator, repeated triumphs were gained. Fabius Maxi¬
mus also had his share in the glory of conquering them;
Mid Deems, the son of that Decius whom we saw de¬
voting himself for his country about 40 years befbre,
followed the example of his father, and rushed into the
midst of the enemy, imagining that he could save the
lives of h s countrymen with the loss of his own.
The success of the Romans against the Samnites
alarmed all Italy. The Tarentines in particular, who
had long plotted underhand against the republic, now
openly declared themselves ; and invited into Italy
Pyrrhus king of Epirus, in hopes of being able by
his means to subdue the Romans. The offer was rea¬
dily accepted by that ambitious monarch, who had no¬
thing less in view than the conquest of all Italy.—
Their ambassadors carried magnificent presents for the
king, witli instructions to acquaint him. that they only
wanted a general of fame and experience; and that, as
for troops, they could themselves furnish a numerous
army of 20,000 horse and 350,000 foot, made up of
Lucanians, Messapians, Samnites, and Tarentines. As
soon as the news of this deputation -were brought to the
Roman camp, /Emilius, who had hitherto made Avar on
the Tarentines but gently, in hopes of adjusting mat¬
ters by way of negociation, took other measures, and
began to commit all sorts of hostilities. He took ci¬
ties, stormed castles, and laid the whole country waste,
burning and destroying all before him. The Taren¬
tines brought their army into the field; but iErniliuif
soon obliged them to take refuge within their walls.
However, to induce them to lay aside the design of re¬
ceiving Pyrrhus, he used the prisoners he had taken
Avith great moderation, and even sent them back with¬
out ransom. These highly extolled the generos ty of
the consul, insomuch that many of the inhabitants were
brought over to the Roman party, and they all began
to repent of their having rejected a peace and sent for
Pyrrhus.
But, in the mean time, the Tarentine ambassadors
arriving in Epirus, pursuant to the powers they had
received, made an absolute treaty Avith the king; Avho
immediately sent before him the famous Cyneas, Avith
3000 men, to take possession of the citadel of Taren-
tum. This eloquent minister soon found means to de¬
pose Agis, whom the Tarentines had chosen to be their
general and the governor of the city, though a sine ere
friend to the Romans. He likewise prevailed upon the
Tarentines to deliver up the citadel into his hands;
which he no sooner got possession of, than he dispatched
messengers to Pyrrhus, soliciting him to hasten his de¬
parture for Italy. In the mean time, the consid JE~
milius. finding that he could not attempt anything Avith
success against the Tarentines this campaign, resolved
to put his troops into Avinter quarters in Apulia, which
was not far from the territory of Tarentum, that Avas
soon to become the seat of the war. As he was obli¬
ged to pass through certain defiles, Avith the sea on one
side and high hills on the other, he Avas there attacked
by the Tarentines and Epirots from great numbers of
barks fraught Avith balistae (that is, engines for throw¬
ing stones of a vast weight), and from the hills, on
Avhich were posted a great many archers and slingers.
Hereupon iEmilius placed the Tarentine prisoners be-
tAveen him and the enemy ; Avhich the Tarentines per¬
ceiving, soon left off molesting the Romans, out of com¬
passion to their OAvn countrymen ; so that the Romans
arrived safe in Apulia, and there took up their winter
quarters.
Rcmc.
  pW
155
Pynlms
king of
Kpiru* in-
vited into
Italy by the
Tareminet.
The
II
0 M
[ 153 ]
Jl 0 M
Some.
i 156
I thus
o :es the
1 :ntines
ti arn the
a if war.
T;ie nt xt year ^milius tvas continued in tlie com¬
mand of his own troops, with the title o£proconsul; and
was ordered to make war upon the Salentines, who had
declared for the Tarentines. The present exigence of
affairs obliged the Romans to enlist the proletarii, who
were the meanest of the people, and therefore by way
of contempt called prolelarii, as being thought inca¬
pable of doing the state any other service than that of
peopling the city, and stocking the republic with sub.
jects. Hitherto they had never been suffered to bear
arms; but were now, to their great satisfaction, enrolled
as well as others. In the mean time Pyrrhus arrived at
Tarentum, having narrowly escaped shipwreck; and
being conducted into the city by his faithful Cyneas,
was received there with loud acclamations.
The Tarentines, who were entirely devoted to their
pleasures, expected that he should take all the fatigues
of the war on himself, and expose only his Epirots to
danger. And indeed Pyrrhus for some days dissembled
his design, and suffered the Tarentines to indulge with¬
out restraint in their usual diversions. But his ships,
which had been dispersed all over the Ionian sea, art i-
ving one after another, and with them the troops which
he had put on board at Epirus, he begm to reform the
disorders that prevailed in the city. The theatre was
the place to which the idle Tarentines resorted daily in
great numbers, and where the incendiaries stirred up the
people to sedition with their harangues : he therefore
caused it to be shut up, as he did likewise the public
gardens, porticos, and places of exercise, where the in¬
habitants used to entertain themselves with news, and
speak with great freedom of their governors, censuring
their conduct, and settling the government according to
their different humours, which occasioned great divi¬
sions, and rent the city into various factions. As they
were a very voluptuous and indolent people, they spent
whole days and nights in feasts, masquerades, plays, &c.
These, therefore, Pyrrhus absolutely prohibited, as no
less dangerous than the assemblies of prating politicians.
They were utter strangers to military exercises, and the
art of handling arms; but Pyrrhus having caused an ex¬
act register to be made of all the young men who were
fit for war, picked out the strongest amongst them, and
incorporated them among his own troops, saying, that
he would take it upon himself to give them courage.
He exercised them daily for several hours; and on that
occasion behaved with an inexor
exemplary punishment on such as did not attend or fail¬
ed in their duty. By these wise measures he prevented
seditions among the citizens, and inured their youth to
military discipline; and because many,whohadnot been
accustomed to such severity and rigour, withdrew from
their native country, Pyrrhus by a public proclamation,
declared all those capitally guilty who should attempt to
abandon their country, or absent themselves from the
common musters.
The Tarentines, being now sensible that Pyrrhus was
determined to be their master, began loudly to complain
of his conduct; but he, being informed of whatever pas¬
sed among them by his spies, who insinuated themselves
into all companies, privately dispatched themost factious.
ravages there; and having taken and fortified one of k,n
their castles, waited in that neighbourhood for Pyrrhus.
The king, though he had not yet received any succours
from the Samnites, Messapians, and other allies of the
Tarentines, thought it highly dishonourable to continue
shut up in a city, while the Romans were ravaging the
country of his friends. He therefore took the field with
the troops he had brought with him from Epirus, some
recruits of Tarentum, and a small number of Italians.
But before he began hostilities, he wrote a letter to Lae-
vinus, commanding him to disband his army ; and on
his refusal, immediately marched towards those parts
where Lawinus was waiting for him. The Romans were
encamped on the hither side of the river Siris; and
Pyrrhus appearing on the opposite bank, made it his first
business to reconnoitre the enemy’s camp in person, and
see what appearance they made. With this view he
crossed the river, attended by Megacles, one of his offi¬
cers and chief favourites; and having observed the con¬
sul’s intrenchments, the mariner in which he had posted
his advanced guards, and the good order of his camp,
he was greatly surprised; and addressing Megacles,
“ These people (said he) are not such barbarians as v. e
take them to be : let us try them before we condemn
them.” On his return, he changed his resolution of at.
tacking them ; and, shutting himself up in his intrench¬
ments, waited for the arrival of the confederate troops.
In the mean time, he posted strong guards along the
river, to prevent the enemy from passing it, and conti¬
nually sent out scouts to discover the designs, and watch
the motions of the consul. Some of these being taken
by the advanced guards of the Romans, the consul him¬
self led them through his camp, and having shewed
them his army, sent them back to the king, telling
them, that he had many other troops to show them in
due time. ,
Laevinus be ng determined to draw the enemy to a His first
battle before Pyrrhus received the reinforcements he battle w
expected, having harangued his troops, marched to the t*1e |{o'
banks of the Siris ; and there drawing up his infantry
in battalia, ordered the cavalry to file off’, and march a
great way about, in order to find a passage at some place
not defended by the enemy. Accordingly, they passed
the river without being observed ; and failing upon the
guards which Pyrrhus had posted on the banks over-
eral hours; and on that against the consular army, gave the infantry an oppor-
rable severity, inflicting tunity of crossing the river on bridges which Lawinus
had prepared for that purpose. But before they got
over, Pyrrhus, hastening from his camp, which was at
some distance from the river, hoped to cut the Roman
army in pieces while they were disordered with the dif¬
ficulties of passing the river, and climbing up the steep
banks ; but the cavalry covering the infantry, and stand¬
ing between them and the Epirots, gave them time to
form themselves on the banks of the iwev. On the
other hand, Pyrrhus drew up his men as fast as they
came from the camp, and performed such deeds of va¬
lour, that the Romans thought him worthy of the great
reputation he had acquired.
As the cavalry alone had hitherto engaged, Pyrrhus,
who confided most in his infantry, hastened back to the
and sent those whom he suspected, under various pre- camp, in order to bring them to the charge but mdl
tences, to his son’s court in Epirus. two i ' n ' 1 - ® 5 v
In the mean time, P. Valerius Lsevinus, the Roman
consul, entering the country of the 1 ucanians, who
were in alliance with the Tarentines. committed great
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
precautions before lie began the attack : the first
was, to ride through the ranks, and show himself to the
whole army; for hi§ norse having been killed under him
m tlle f5rst ons<& ^ report had been spread that he was
V slain:
II 0 M [ 154 ] It O M
Rome. slain : the second was, to change his habit and helmet
with Megacles ; for having been known in the engage¬
ment of the horse by the richness of his a tire and ar¬
mour, many of the Romans had aimed at him in par¬
ticular, so that he was with the utmost difficulty taken
and saved, after his horse had been kil’ed under him.
Thus disguised, he le 1 his phalanx against the Roman
legions, and attacked them with incredible fury. Lse-
vinus sustained the shock with great resolution, so that
the victory was for many hours warmly disputed. The
Romans gave several times way to the Epirots, and the
Epirois to the Romans; but both parties rallied again
and were brought back to the charge by their com¬
manders. Megacles, in the attire and helmet of Pyr¬
rhus, was in all places, and well supported the charac¬
ter he had assumed. But his disguise at last proved
fatal to him : for a Roman knight, by name Dexter,
taking him for the king, followed him wherever he
went.; and having found an oppor'unity of discharging
a blow ^t him, struck him dead on the spot, stripped
him of hik helmet and armour, and carried them in tri¬
umph to tile consul, who by showing to the Epirots the
spoils of their king, so terrified them, that they began
to give ground. But Pyrrhus, appearing bare-headed
in the first files of his. phalanx, and riding through all
the lines undeceived his men, and inspired them with
new courage.
The advantage seemed to be pretty equal on both
sides, when Laevinus ordered his cavalry to advance;
which Pyrrhus observing, drew up 20 elephants in the
front of his army, with towers on their backs full of
bovrmen. The very sight of those dreadful animals
chilled the bravery of the Romans, who had never be¬
fore seen any. However, they still advanced, till their
horses, not being able to bear the smell of them, and
frightened at the strange noise they made, either threw
their riders, or carried them on full speed in spite of
their utmost efforts. In the mean time, the archers,
discharging showers of darts from the towers, wounded
several of the Romans in that confusion, while others
were trod to death by the elephants. Notwithstanding
the disorder of the cavalry, the legionaries still kept
their ranks, and could not be broken, till Pyrrhus at-
158 tacked them in person at the head of the Thessalian
The Ro- horse. The onset was so furious, that they were forced
fcited. to yield, and retire in disorder. The king of Epirus
restrained the ardour of his troops, and would not suffer
them to pursue the enemy : an elephant, which had
been wounded by a Roman soldier named Minucius,
having caused a great disorder in his army, this acci¬
dent favoured the retreat of the Romans, and gave
them time to repass the river, and take refuge in Apu¬
lia. The Epirot remained master of the field, and had
the pleasure to see the Romans fly before him : but the
victory cost him dear, a great number of his best offi¬
cers and soldiers having been slain in the battle; whence
he was heard to say after the action, that he was both
conqueror and conquered, and that if he, gained such
another victory, he should be obliged to return to Epi¬
rus alone.
Elis first care after the action was to bury the dead,
with which the plain was covered; and herein he
made no distinction between the Romans and his own
Epirots. In viewing the bodies of the former, he ob¬
served, that none of them had received dishonourable
wounds; that they had all fifflen in the pests assigned Rome,
them, still held their swords in their hands, and show- '-’■'"ynJ
ed, even after death, a certain martial air and fierce¬
ness in their faces ; and on this occasion it was that he
uttered those famous words : “ O that Pyrrhus had the
Romans for his soldiers, or the Romans Pyrrhus for their
leader! together, we should subdue the whole world.”
The king of Epirus understood the art of war too ^
well not to reap what advantage he could from his vie- duces seve.
tory. He broke into the countries in alliance with the ral towns.
Romans, plundered the lands of the republic, and made
incursions even into the neighbourhood of Rome. Ma¬
ny cities opened their gates to him, and in a short time
he made himself master of the greatest part of Campa¬
nia. While he was in that fruitful province, subsisting
his troops the e at the expence of the Romans, he -was
Joined by the Samnites, Lucanians, and Messapians,
whom he had so long expected. After having re¬
proached them for their delay, he gave them a good
share of the spoils he had taken from the enemy ; and
having by this means gained their affections, he march¬
ed without loss of time to lay siege to Capua : but Lae¬
vinus, having already received a reinforcement of two
legions, threw some troops into the city; which obliged
Pyrrhus to drop his design, and, leaving Capua, to
march straight to Naples. Laevinus followed him, ha¬
rassing his troops on their march; and at length, by
keeping his army in the neighbourhood, forced him to
give over all thoughts of making himself master of that
important city. The king then, aU on a sudden, took
his route towards Rome by the Latin way, surprised
Fregellae, and, marching through the country of the
Elernici, sat down before Praeneste. There, from the
top of a hill, he had the pleasure of seeing Rome ; and
is said to have advanced so near the walls, that he drove
a cloud of dust into the city. But he was soon forced
to retire by the other consul T. Coruncanius, who,
having reduced Hetruria, was just then returned with
his victorious army to Rome. The king of Epirus,
therefore, having no hopes of bringing the Hetrurians
into his interest, and seeing two consular armies ready
to fall upon him, raised the siege of Praeneste, and
hastened back into Campania; where, to his great sur¬
prise, he found Laevinus with a more numerous army
than that which he had defeated on the banks of the
Siris. The consul went to meet him, with a design
to try the fate of another battle ; which Pyrrhus be¬
ing unwilling to decline, drew up his army, and, to
strike terror into the Roman legions, ordered his men
to beat their bucklers with their lances, and the lead¬
ers ot the elephants to force them to make a hideous
noise. But the noise was returned with such an univer¬
sal shout by the Romans, that Pyrrhus, thinking so much
alacrity on the part of the vanquished too sure a progno¬
stic of victory, altered his mind ; and, pretending that
the auguries were not favourable, retired to Tarentum,
and put an end to the campaign. 160
While Pyrrhus continued quiet at Tarentum, he He indiD“
had time to reflect on the valour and conduct of the t0 ^eace
Romans; which made him conclude, that the war in
which he was engaged must end in his ruin and dis-
giace, it not terminated by an advantageous peace.
He was therefore overjoyed when he heard that the
senate had determined to send an honourable embassy
to aim, not doubting but their errand was to propose
terms
II O M [ 15d ] II O M
* oinp. terms of peace. The ambassadors ■were three men of
^ v>° distinguished merit; to wit, Cornelius Dolabella, who
was famous for tlie signal victory he liad gained over
the Senones, Fabric ins, and fEmilius Pappus, who had
been his colleague in the consulate two years before.
When they were admitted to an audience, the only
thing they demanded was a surrender of the prison¬
ers, either by the way of exchange, or at such a ran¬
som as should be agreed on; for Pyrrhus, in the late
battle, had made 1800 prisoners, most of them Ro¬
man knights and men of distinction in tire republic.
They had fought with great bravery, till their horses,
frightened with the roaring of the king’s elephants,
had either thrown them, or obliged them to dismount ;
by which unforeseen accident, they had fallen into the
enemy’s hands. The senate, therefore, pitying the
condition of those brave men, had determined, con¬
trary to their custom, to redeem them. Pyrrhus was
greatly surprised and disappointed when he found that
they had no other proposals to make; but, concealing
his thoughts, he only answered, that he would consider
of it, and let them know his resolution. Accordingly,
he assembled his council: but his chief favourites were
divided in their opinions. Milo, who commanded in
the citadel of Tarentum, was for coming to no compo¬
sition with the Romans ; but Cyneas, who knew his ma¬
ster’s inclination, proposed not only sending back the
prisoners withoutransom,but dispatching an embassyto
Rome to treat with the senate of a lasting peace. His
advice was approved, and he himself appointed to go on
that embassy. After these resolutions, the king ac¬
quainted the ambassadors, that he intended to release
the prisoners without ransom, since he had already rich¬
es enough, and desired nothing of the republic but her
friendship. Afterwards he had several conferences with
Fabricius, whose virtue he had tried with mighty offers
of riches and grandeur; but finding him proof against
all temptations, he resolved to try whether his intrepi¬
dity and courage were equal to his virtue. With this
view, he caused an elephant to be placed behind a cur¬
tain in the hall where he received the Roman ambassa¬
dor. As Fabricius had never seen one of those beasts,
the king, taking a turn or two in the hall with him,
broughthim within the elephant’s reach, and then caused
the curtain to be drawn all on a sudden, and that mon¬
strous animal to make his usual noise, and even lay his
trunk on h abricius’s head. But the intrepid Roman,
without betraying the least fear or concern, “ Does the
great king (said he, with surprising calmness), who
could not stagger me with his offers, think to frighten
me with the braying of a beast ?” Pyrrhus, astonished
at his immovable constancy, invited him to dine with
him : and on this occasion it was, that the conversation
turning upon the Epicurean philosophy, Fabricius made
that celebrated exclamation, “ O that Pyrrhus, both
for Rome s sake and his own, had placed his happiness
in the boasted indolence of Epicurus.”
Every thing Pyrrhus heard or saw of the Romans in¬
creased his earnestness for peace, fie sent for the three
ambassadors, released 200 of the prisoners withoutran¬
som, and suffei ed the rest, on their parole, to return to
Rome to celebrate the Saturnalia, or feasts of Saturn,
in their own families. Having by this obliging behavi¬
our gained the good will of the Roman ambassadors, he
sent Cyneas to Rome, almost at the same time that they
left Tarentum. The instructions he gave this fhith'ul Ifoine.
minister, were, to bring the Romans to grant these three y—^
articles: 1. That the Tarentines should be included in
the treaty made with the king of Epirus. 2. That the
Greek cities in Italy should be suffered to enjoy their
laws and libert es. 3. That the republic should restore
to the Samnites, Lucanians, and Bruttians, all the pla¬
ces she had taken from them. Upon these conditions,
Pyrrhus declared himself ready to forbear all further ho¬
stilities, and conclude a lasting peace. With these in¬
structions Cyneas set out for Rome; where, partly by
his eloquence, partly by rich presents to the senators
and their wives, lie soon gained a good number of voices.
When he was admitted into the senate, he made a ha¬
rangue worthy of a disciple of the great Demosthenes ;
after which, he read the conditions Pyrrhus proposed,
and, Avith a great deal of eloquence, endeavouring to
show the reasonableness and moderation of his master’s
demands, asked leave for Pyrrhus to come to Rome to
conclude and sign the treaty. The senators Avere gene¬
rally inclined to agree to Pyrrhus’s terms ; but never¬
theless, as several senators were absent, the determina¬
tion of the affair A\ras postponed to the next day; when
Appius Claudius, the greatest orator and most learned
civilian in Rome, old and blind as he Avas, caused himself ^ ^
to be carried to the senate, where he had not appeared ma°s lej-use
for many years; and there, partly by his eloquence, t0 treat,
partly by his authority, so prepossessed the minds of the
senators against the king of Epirus, and the conditions
he offered, that, when he had done speaking, the con-
scriptfathers unanimously passed a decree,the substance
of which was, That the war with Pyrrhus should be
continued: that his ambassador should be sent back that
very day; that the king of Epirus should not be per¬
mitted to come to Rome; and that they should ac¬
quaint his ambassador, that Rome would enter into
no treaty of peace with his master till he had left
Italy.
Cyneas, surprised at the answer given him, left Rome
the same day, and returned to Tarentum, to acquaint
the king with the final resolution of the senate. Pyr¬
rhus would have willingly concluded a peace with them
upon honourable terms ; but, as the conditions they of¬
fered were not byany means consistent Avith the reputa¬
tion of his arms, he began without loss of time, to make
all due preparations for the next campaign. On the
other hand, the Romans having raised to the consulate
P. Sulpicius Saverrio, and P. Decius Mus, dispatched
them both into Apulia, where they found Pyrrhus en¬
camped near a little town called Asculum. There the
consuls, joining their armies, fortified themselves at the
foot of the Appenines, having betAveen them and the
enemy a large deep stream which divided the plain.
Both armies continued a great while on the opposite
banks, before either ventured to pass over to attack the
other. The Epirots allowed the Romans to cross the
stream, and draw up on the plain. On the other hand,
Pyrrhus placed his men likewise in order of battle in the
same plain ; and all the ancients do him the justice to
say, that no commander ever understood better the art
of draw ing up an army and directing its motions. In Another
the right Aving he placed his Epirots and the Samnites;
in his left the Lucanians, Bruttians, and S lentines ;
and his phalanx in the centre. The centre of the Ro¬
man army consisted of four legions, which \v ere to en-
U 2 gage
Pv O M [ 1
Kome. gage the enemy’s phalanx ; on their wings were posted
the light-arme:! auxiliaries and the Roman horse. The
consuls, in order to guard their troops against the fui’y
of the elephants, had prepared chariots, armed with
long points of iron in the shape of forks, and filled
with soldiers carrying firebrands, which they were di¬
rected to throw at the elephants, and by that means
frighten them, and set their wooilen towers on fire.
These chariots were posted over against the king’s
e'ephants, and ordered not to stir till they entered up¬
on retion. To this precaution the Roman generals add¬
ed another, which was, to direct a body of Apulians to
attack Pyrrhus’s camp in the heat of the engagement,
in order to force it, or at least to draw olf part of the
enemy’s troops to defend it. At length the attack be¬
gan, both parties being pi*etty equal in number; for
each of them consisted of about 40,300 men. The pha¬
lanx sustained, for a long time, the furious onset of the
legions with incredible bravery : but at length being
forced to give way, Pyrrhus commanded his elephants
to advance, but not on the side where the Romans had
posted their chariots ; they marched round, and, falling
upon the Roman horse, soon put them into confusion.
Then the phalanx, returning with fresh courage to the
charge, made the Roman legions in their turn give
ground. On this occasion Decius was killed, so that
one consul only was left to command the two Roman
armies. But while all things seemed to favour Pyrrhus,
the body of Apulians which we have mentioned above,
falling unexpectedly on the camp of the Epirots, obli¬
ged the king to dispatch a strong detachment to defend
his intrenchments. Upon the departure of these troops,
some of the Epirots, imagining that the camp was ta¬
ken, began to lose courage, and retire; those who ■were
next to them followed their example, and in a short
time the whole army gave way. Pyrrhus having at¬
tempted several times in vain to rally his forces, return-
103 «?d to the charge with a small number of his friends and
Pyrrhus the most courageous of his officers. With these he su-
•indT'1, sta^ned t^ie hiry °f the victorious legions, and covered
gerously" J'ie of his own men. But being, after a most
wounded. £al'ant behaviour, dangerously wounded, he retired at
last with, his small band in good order, leaving the Ro¬
mans masters of the fie'd. As the sun was near setting,
the Romans, being extremely fatigued, and a great
number of them wounded, the consul Su'picius, not
thinking it ad visable to pursue the enemy,sounded a re¬
treat, repassed tht? steam, and brought his troops back
to the camp. Sulpdus appeared in the fi dd of battle
the next day, with a design to bring the Epirots to a
second engagement; but finding they had withdrawn
in the night to Tarentum, hs likewise retired, and put
his troops into winter-quarters in Apulia.
Both armies continued quiet in their quarters during
winter; but early in the spring took tire field anew..—
The Romans were commanded this year by two men of
great fame, whom they had raised to the consulate the
second time: these were the celebrated C, Fabriciu - and
Q. JEmilius Pappus; who no sooner arrived in Apulia,
than they led their troops iulo the territory of 1 aren-
tum. Pyrrhus, who had received considerable rein-..
forcements from Ep ru , met them near the frontiers,
iind encamped at asmail distance from the Homan army.
While the consuls were waiting here for a favourable
opportunity to give battle, a messenger from Nidus, the
56 ] it o M
king’s physician, delivered a letter to Fabi kkis ; where- home, j
in the traitor offered to take off his master by poison,
provided the consul would promisehima reward proper- g]le^ ,1
tionable to the greatness of the service. The virtuous physician
Roman, being filled with horror at the bare proposal of offers to
such a crime, immediately communicated the affair to poison 1m
his colleague ; who readily joined with him in writing lrLlt,s^|s|
a letter to Pyrrhus, wherein they warned him, without (pe
discovering the criminal, to take care of himself, and mans,
be upon his guard against the treacherous designs of
those about him. Pyrrhus, cut of a deep sense of gra¬
titude for so great a benefit, released immediately, with¬
out ransom, all the prisoners he had taken. But the
Romans, disdaining to accept either a favour from an
enemy, or a reeompence for not committing the blackest
treachery, declared, that they would not receive their
prisoners but by way of exchange ; and accordingly
sent to Pyrrhus an equal number of Samnite and Ta-
rentine prisoners.
As the king of Epirus grew every day more weary
of a war which he feared would end in his disgrace, he
sent Cyneas a second time to Rome, to try vchether he
could, with his artful harangues, prevail upon the con¬
script fathers to hearken to an accommodation, vipon
such terms as were consistent with his honour. But
the ambassador found the senators steady in their for¬
mer resolution, and determined not to enter into a trea¬
ty with his master til) he had left It ly, and withdrawn
from thence all his forces This gave the king great
uneasiness; for he had already lost most of his veteran
troops and best officers, and was sensible that he should
lose the rest if he ventured another engagement. While Pyrrhus
he was revolving these n;elancholy thoughts in his mind, g°es intu 1
ambassadors arrived at his camp from the Syracusans, Sl(%*
Agrigentines, and Leontines, imploring the a sistance
of his arms to drive out the Carthaginians, and put an
end to the troubles which threatened their respective
states with utter destruction. Pyrrhus, who wanted on¬
ly some honourable pretence to leave Italy laid hold of
this ; and appointing Milo governor of Tarenturn, with
a strong garrison to keep the inhabitants in awe during
his absence, he $et sail tor Sicily with 30,000 foot and
2500 horse, on board a fleet of 200 ships. Here he
was at first attended with great success ; but the Sicili¬
ans, disgusted at the resolution he had taken of passing
over into Africa, and much more at the enormous ex¬
actions and extortions of his ministers and courtiers, had
submitted partly to the Carthaginians and partly to the
Mamertines. When Carthage heard of this change,
new troops were raised all over Africa, and a numerous
army sent into Sicily to re cover the cities which Pyrrhus
had taken. As the Sicilians daily deserted from him in
crowds, he was no way in a condition, with his Epirots
alone, to withstand so powerful an enemy ; and there¬
fore, when deputies came to him from the Tarentines,
Samnites, Bruttlans, and Lucanians, representing to
him the losse -; they had sustained since his departuie,and
remonstrating, that, without his assistance, they must
fall a sacrifice to the Romans, he laid hold of that op¬
portunity to abandon the island, and return to Italv. ■
His fleet w as attacked by that of Carthage; and his jje retumj
army, after their landing, by the Mamertines. But Pyr- into Italy,
rhus having, by his heroic bravery, escaped all danger,
marched along the sea-shore, in order to reach Taren¬
tum that ray. As he passed through the country of
the
ffome. the Loerians, wlio !nd not lon<r before mas'acred the
-r*iJ troops he had left there, he not only exercised all sorts
O'' cruelty on the inhabitants, but plundered the temple
.of Proserpine to supply the wants of his army. The im¬
mense riches which he found there, were, by his order,
sent to Tarentum by sea; but the ships that carried
them being dashed against the rooks by a tempest, and
the mariners all lost, this proud prince was convinced,
says Livy, that the gods were not imaginary beings,
and caused all the treasure, which the sea bad thrown
upon the shore, to be carefully gathered up, and re¬
placed in the temple : nay, to appease the wrath of the
angry goddess, he put all those to death who had ad¬
vised him to plunder her temple. However, supersti¬
tion made the ancients ascribe to this act of impiety all
the misfortunes which afterwards befel that unhappy
prince.
Pyrrhus at length arrived at Tarentum ; but of the
army he had carried into Sicily, he brought back into
Italy only 2000 horse, and not quite 20,000 font. He
therefore reinforced them with the best troops he could
raise in the countries of the Samnites, Lucanians, and
Bruttians; and hearing that the two new consu's, Cu-
r-ius Dentatus and Cornelius Lentulus, had divided
their forces, the one invading Lueania and the other
Samnium, he likewise divided his army into two bodies,
marching with the choice of his Epirots against Den¬
tatus, in hopes of surprising him in his camp near Bene-
ventum. But the consul having notice of his approach,
went out of his intvenchments with a strong detachment
of legionaries to meet him ; repulsed his vanguard, put
many of the Epirots to the sword, and took some of
their elephants. Curius encouraged with this success,
marched his army into the Taurasian fields, and drew it
up in a plain which was wide enough for his troops, but
too narrow for the Epirot phalanx, the phalangites be-
' 67 ing so crowded that they could not handle their arms
N terly without difficulty. But the king’s eagerness to try his
tf as Den s*:ren&t*1 an(l skill with so renowned a commander, made
18 en‘ him engage at that great disadvantage. Upon the first
signal the action began ; and one of the king’s wings
giving way, the victory seemed to incline to the Ro¬
mans. But that wing where the king fought in person
repulsed the enemy, and drove them back quite to their
intrenchments. This advantage was in great part owing
to the elephants; which Curius perceiving, commanded
a corps de reserve, which he had posted near the camp,
to advance and fall upon the elephants. These carrying
burning torches in one hand, and their swords in the
other, threw the former at the elephants, and with the
latte: defendedthemselvesagainsttheir guides; by which
means they were both forced to give way. The ele¬
phants being put to flight broke into the phalanx, close
as it was. and there caused a general disorder; which
was increased by a remarkable accident: for it is said,
that a young e ephant being wounued, and thereupon
making a dreadful noise, the mother quitting her rank,
and hastening to the assistance of her young one, put
those who still kept their ranks into the utmost contu¬
sion. But, however that be, it is certain that the Ro¬
mans obtained at last a complete victory. Orosiu? and
Eutropius tell us that Pyrrhus’s army consisted of 80,000
foot and 6000 horse, including his Epirots and allies;
whereas the consular army was scarcely 20,00o strong.
Those who exaggerate the king’s loss say, that the num*
her of the slain on his side amounted to 50,000 men ; iiome.
but others reduce it to 20,000. All wri'ers agree, that
Curius took 1200 prisoners and eight e’ephnnts. This
victory, which was the most decisive Rome had ever
gained, brought all Italy under subjection, and paved
the way for those vast conquests which afterwards made
the Romans masters of the whole known world. 168
Pyrrhus being no way in a condition, after the great He alx;n-
loss he had sustained, to keep the field, retired to Ta- (!°ns 1)13
rentum, attended only by a small body of horse, leaving aiie8’
the Romans in full possession of his camp ; which they
so much admired, that they mane it ever after a model
to form theirs by. And now the king of Epirus resol¬
ved to leave Italy as soon as possible; but concealed his
design, and endeavoured to keep up the drooping spirits
of his allies, by giving them hopes of speedy succours
from Greece. Accordingly he dispatched ambassadors
into jEtolia, Ulyricum, and Macedon, demanding sup¬
plies of men and money. But the answers from those
courts not proving favourable, he forged such as might
please those whom he was willing to deceive; and by
this means supported the courage of his friends, and
kept his enemy in play. When he could conceal his
departure no longer, he pretended to he on a sudden in
a great passion at the dilatoriness of his friends in send¬
ing him succours; and acquainted the Taremines, that
he must go and bring them over himself. However, he
left behind him a strong garrison in the citadel of Ta¬
rentum, under the command of the same Milo who had
kept it tor him during his stay in Sicily. In order to
keep this governor in his duty, he is said to have made
him a very strange present, viz. a chair covered with the
skin of Nich s, the treacherous physician, who had of¬
fered Fabricius to poison his master. After all these
disguises and precautions, Pyrrhus at laA set sail fon
Epirus, and arrived safe at Acrocerauniirm with 8000
foot and 500 horse ; after having spen’. to no purpose
six years in Italy and Sicily.
I hough, from the manner in wBich Pyrrhus took
his leave, his Italian allies had Kt'tle reason to expect
any further assistance from him., yet they continued to
amuse themselves with vain ho pes, till certain accounts
anived of his being killed at, the siege of Argos, as has 159
been related under the article Epirus. This threw who arc
the Samnites into despair: so that they put all to the subdued,
isme of a general batt’e; in which they were defeated ani^ ^ie
with such dreadful slaughter, that the nation is said to Ron,unshe”
have been almost exterminated. This overthrow was toTo/au'
soon followed by the. submission of the Lueanians, Brut- Italy,
tian--, Tarentmes, Sarcinates, Pieentes, and Salentines ;
so that Rome no^w became mistress of all the nations
from the remotest parts of Hetruria to the Ionian sea,
and from the Tyrrhenian sea to the Adriatic. All these
nations, however, did not enjoy the same privileges.
Some were entirely subject to the tepublic, and had no
laws but. what they received from thence; others re¬
tained their old laws and customs, but in subjection to
the republic : some were tributary ; and others allies,
who were obliged to furnish troops at the r own ex¬
pence when the Romans required. Some had the prv
vilege of Roman citize ship, their soldiers being incor¬
porated in the legi.ns; while others had a right of suf¬
frage in the elections made by the centuries. These dif-
leieni de. rees of honour privileges, and libe tV, were
founded on the .different terms granted to the conquered
nations
It O M [ 158 ] It 0 M
Home.
170
Other con-
quests made
by the Ro¬
mans.
171
Illyricam
subdued.
nations wlien they surrendered, tmd were afterwards in¬
creased according to their fidelity and the services they
did the republic.
The Romans now became respected by foreign na¬
tions, and received ambassadors from Ptolemy Philadel-
phus king of Egypt, and from Apollonia a city of Ma-
eedon. Sensible of their own importance, they now
granted protection to whatever nation requested it of
them ; but this not with a view of serving one party,
but that they might have an opportunity of subjecting
both. In this manner they assisted the Mamertines
against Hiero king of Syracuse, which brought on the
wars with the Carthaginians, which terminated in the
total destruction of that ancient republic, as has been
related under the article Carthage. The interval be¬
tween the first and second Punic wars was by the Ro¬
mans employed in reducing the Boh and I igurians,who
had revolted. These were Gaulish nations, wbo had al¬
ways been very formidable to the Romans, and now
gave one of their consuls a notable defeat. However,
he soon after sufficiently revenged himself, ind defeated
the enemy with great slaughter; though it was not till
some time after, and with a good deal of difficulty, that
they were totally subdued. During this interval also,
the Romans seized on the islands of Sardinia, Corsica,
and Malta ; and in the year 219 B. C. the two former
were reduced to the form of a province. Papirius, who
had subdued Corsica, demanded a triumph; but not ha¬
ving interest enough to obtain it, he took a method en¬
tirely new to do himself justice. He put himself at the
head of his victorious army, and marched to the tem¬
ple of Jupiter Latialis, on the hill of Alba, with all
the pomp that attended triumphant victors at Rome.
He made no other alteration in the ceremony, but that
of wearing a crown of myrtle instead of a crown of
laurel, and this on account of his having defeated the
Corsicans in a place where there was a grove of myr¬
tles. The example of Papirius was afterwards followed
by a great many generals to whom the senate refused
triumphs.
The next year, when M. JEmilius Barbula and M.
Junius Pera were consuls, a new war sprung up in a
kingdom out of Italy, lllyricum, properly so called,
which bordered upon Macedon and Epirus, was at this
time governed by a woman named Teuta, the widow
of King Agron, and guardian to her son Pinteus, who
was under age. The success of her late husband against
the iEtolians had flushed her to such a degree, that
instead of settling the affairs of her ward in peace, she
commanded her subjects to cruise along the coast, seize
all the ships they met, take what places they could, and
spare no nation. Her pirates had, pursuant to her or¬
ders, taken and plundered many ships belonging to the
Roman merchants ; and her troops were then besieging
the island of Issa in the Adriatic, though the inhabi¬
tants had put themselves under the protection of the re¬
public. Upon the complaints, therefore, of the Italian
merchants, and to protect the people of Issa, the senate
sent two ambassadors to the Illyrian queen, Lucius and
Caius Coruncanus, to demand of her that she would
restrain her subjects from investing the sea with pirates.
She answered them haughtily, that she could only pro¬
mise that her subjects should not for the future attack
the Romans in her name, and by public authority:
“ hut as for any thing more, it is not customary with Us
(said she) to lay restraints oii our subjects, nor will we
forbid them to re-ip those advantages from the sea which
it offers them.” "Your customs then(replied the young¬
est of the ambassadors) are very different from ours.
At Rome we make public examples of those subjects
who injure others, whether at home or abroad. Teuta,
we can, by cur arms, force you to reform the abuses of
your bad government.” These unseasonable threaten-
ings provoked Teuta, who was naturally a proud and im¬
perious woman, to such a degree, that, without regard
to the right of nations, she caused the ambassadors to be
murdered on their return home.
When so notorious an infraction of the law of na¬
tions was known at Rome, the people demanded ven¬
geance; and the senate having first honoured the manes
of the ambassadors, by erecting, as was usual in such
cases, statues three feet high to their memory, ordered
a fleet to be equipped, and troops raised, with all pos¬
sible expedition. But now Teuta, reflecting on the
enormity of her proceedings, sent an embassy to Rome,
assuring the senate that she had no hand in the murder
of the ambassadors, and offering to deliver up to the
republic those v/ho had committed that barbarous as¬
sassination. The Romans being at that time threaten¬
ed with a war from the Gauls, were ready to accept
this satisfaction : but in the mean time the Illyrian fleet
having gained some advantage over that of the AcIre-
ans, and taken the island of Corcyra near Epirus, this
success made Teuta believe herself invincible, and for¬
get the promise she had made to the Romans ; nay, she
sent her fleet to seize on the island of Issa, which the
Romans had taken under their protection.
Hereupon the consuls for the new year, P. Posthu-
mius Albinus and Cn. Fulvius Centumalus, embarked
for lllyricum; Fnlvius having the command or the fleet,
which consisted of 100 gaUeys ; and Posthumius of the
land forces, which amounted to 20,000 foot, besides a
small body of horse. Fulvius appeared with bis fleet
before Corcyra in the Adriatic, and was put in pos¬
session both of the island and city by Demetrius of
Pharos, governor of the place for Queen Teuta. Nor
was this all; Demetrius found means to make the in¬
habitants of Apollonia drive out the Illyrian garrison,
and admit into their city the Roman troops. As Apol¬
lonia was one of the keys of lllyricum on the side of
Macedon, the consuls, wbo had hitherto acted jointly,
no sooner saw themselves in possession of it than they
separated, the fleet cruising along the coast, and the
army penetrating into the heart of the queen’s domi¬
nions. The Andyoeans, Parthini, and Atintanes, vo¬
luntarily submitted to Posthumius, being induced by
the persuasions of Demetrius to shake off'the Illyrian
yoke. The consul being now in possession of most of
the inland towns, returned to the coast, where, with
the assistance of the fliet, lie took many stronghol is,
among which was Nuiria, a place of great strength, and
defended by a numerous garrison ; so that it made a vi¬
gorous defence, tiie Romans having los before it a great
many private men, several legionai y tribuues, and one
quaestor. However, this loss was repaired by the taking
ol 40 Illyrian vessels, which were returning home laden
with booty. At length the Roman fleet appeared be¬
fore Issa, which, by Teuta’s order, was still closely be¬
sieged, notwithstanding the losses she had sustained.
However, upon the ap>>voaeJi of the Roman fie;t, the
Illyrians
Ron
v—r
nine.
v
1T2
ie Gauls
Insubria
1 Ligu-
subdu-
11 O M [
Illyrians dispersed; but the Fh 'vians,v.lioserved among
them, followed the example of their countryman Deme¬
trius, and joined the Romans, to whom the Issani rea¬
dily submitted.
In the mean time Sp. Corvilius and Q. Fabius Maxi¬
mus being raise i to the consulate a second time, Post-
humius was recalled from Ulyricum, and refused a tri¬
umph for having been too prodigal of the Roman blood
at the siege of Nutria. His colleague Fulvius was ap¬
pointed to command the land forces in his room, in
quality of proconsul. Hereupon Teuta, who had foun¬
ded great hopes on the change of the consuls, retired to
one of her strongholds called R/iizon, and from thence
early in the spring sent an embassy to Rome. The se¬
nate refused to treat with her: but granted the young
king a peace upon the following conditions: 1. That
he should pay an annual tribute to the republic. 2. That
he should surrender part of his dominions to the Ro¬
mans. 3. That he should never suffer above three of
his ships of war at a time to sail beyond Lyssus, a town
on the confines of Macedon and Illyricimi. The places
he yielded to the Romans in virtue of this treaty, were
the islands of Coreyra, Issa, and Pharos, the city of
Dyrrhachium, and the country of the Atintanes. Soon
after Teuta, either out of shame, or compelled by a se¬
cret article of the treaty, abdicated the regency, and
Demetrius succeeded her.
Before this war was ended, the Romans were alarm¬
ed by new motions of the Gauls, and the great progress
which the Carthaginians made in Spain. At this time
also the fears of the people were excited by a prophecy
said to be taken out of the Sibylline books, that the
Gauls and Greeks should one day be in possession of
Rome. This prophecy, however, the semtefoundmeans
to elude, as they pretended, by burying two Gauls and
two Greeks alive, and then telling the multitude that
the Gauls and Greeks were now in the possession of
Rome. The difficulties which superstition had raised
being thus surmounted, the Romans made vast prepara¬
tions against the Gauls, whom they seem to have dread¬
ed above all other nations. Some say that the number
offerees raised by the Romans on this occasion amount¬
ed to no fewer than 800,000 men. Of this incredible
multitude 248,000 foot and 26,000 horse were Ro¬
mans orCampanians; nevertheless, the Gauls, with only
50,000 foot and 20,000 horse, forced a passage through
Hetruria, and took the road towards Rome. Here
they had the good fortune at first to defeat one of the
Roman armies ; but being soon after met by two others,
they were utterly defeated, with the loss of more than
50,000 of their number. The Romans then entered
their country ; which they cruelly ravaged; butaplague
breaking out in their army, obliged them to return
home. Tins was followed by a new war, in which
those Gauls who inhabited Insubria and Liguria were
totally subdued, and their country reduced to a Roman
province. These conquests were followed by that of
Istria ; Dimalum, a city of importance in Illyricum ;
and Pharos, an island in the Adriatic sea.
The second Punic war for some time retarded the con¬
quests of the Romans, and even threatened their state
with entire destruction; but Hannibal being at last re¬
called from Italy, and entirely defeated at Zama, they
made peace upon such advantageous terms as gave them
an. entire superiority over that republic, which they not
159 ] ROM
long after entirely subverted, as has been related in the Rome,
history of Carthage.
The successful issue of the second Panic war had r ,
greatly increased the extent of the Roman empire. i‘le ,!o".
They were now masters of all Sicily, the Mediterra-
ne in islands, and great part of Spain ; and, through its full ex-
the dissensions of the Asiatic states with the king of tent.
Macedon, a pretence was now found for carrying their
arms into these parts. The Gauls in the mean time,
however, continued their incursions, but now ceased to
be formidable ; while the kings of Macedon, through
misconduct, were first obliged to submit t > a disadvan¬
tageous peace, and at last totally subdued (s~e Mace-
don). The reduction of Macedon was soon followed
by that of all Greece, either by the name of allies or
otherwise: while Antiochus the Great, 'o whom Han¬
nibal fled for protection, by an unsuccessful war, first
gave the Romans a footing in Asia (see Syria). The
Spaniards and Gauls continued to be the most obstinate
enemies. The former, particularly, were rather exter¬
minated than reduced ; and even this required the ut¬
most care and vigilance of Scipio iEmilianus, the con¬
queror of Carthage, to execute. See Spain and Nu-
MANTIA.
Thus the Romans attained to a height of po wer su¬
perior to any other nation in the world ; but now a se¬
dition broke out, which we may say was never termi¬
nated but with the overthrow of the republic. I his h d
its origin from Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus, descen- ^
ded from a family which, though plebeian, was as illu- ^IdCCbif
strious as any in the commonwealth. His father had
been twice raised to the consulate, was a great general,
and had been honoured with two triumphs. But he
was still more renownedfor his domestic virtues and pro¬
bity', than for his birth or valour. He married the
daughter of the first Africanus, said to be the pattern
of her sex, and the prodigy of her age; and had by
her several children, of whom three only arrived at ma¬
turity of age, Tiberius Gracchus, Caius Gracchus, and
a daughter named Sempronia, who was married to the
second Africanus. Tiberius, the eldest, ^as deemed
the most accomplished youth in Rome, with respect to
the qualities both of body and mind. His extraordina¬
ry talents were heightened by a noble air, an engaging
countenance, and all those winning graces of nature
which recommend merit. He made h s first campaigns
under his brother-in-law, and distinguished himself on
all occasions by his courage, and by the prudence of his
conduct. When he returned to Rome, he applied him¬
self to the study of eloquence; and at 30 years old
was accounted the best orator of his age. He married
the daughter of Appius Claudius, who had been for¬
merly consul and censor, and was then prince of the se¬
nate. He continued for some time in the sentiments
both of his own and his wife's family, and supported
the interests of the patricians ; but without openly at¬
tacking the popular f .ction. He was the chief author
and negociator of that shameful necessary peace with
the Numantines; ivhich the senate, with the utmost in¬
justice, disannulled, and condemnedthe consul, the quae¬
stor, and all the officers who had signed it, to be de¬
livered up to the Numantines (see Numantia). The
people, indeed, out of esteem for Gracchus, would not
suffer him to be sacrificed : but, however, he had just,
reason to complain, both of the senate and people.
II 0 M [ 160 ] H 0 M
.Some. fcr pa^s;n;T so scandalous a deci*ee against his general
an(j himself^ an(J breaking a t‘ eaty whereby the lives of
so many citizens had been saved. But as the senate
had chiefly promoted such base and iniquitous proceed¬
ings, he resolved in due time to show his resentment
against the party which hayhcontributed mostto his dis¬
grace.
In order to this, he stood for the tribuneship of the
people; which he no sooner obtained, than he resolved
to attack the nobility in the most tender part. They
had usurped lands urijustly ; cultivated them by slaves,
to the great detriment of the public ; and had lived for
about 250 years in open defiance to the Tacinian law,
by which it was enacted that no citizen should po-sess
more than 500 acres. This law Tib. Gracchus resol¬
ved to revive, and by that means revenge himself on
the patricians. But it wras not revenge alone which
prompted him to embark in so dangerous an attempt.
It is pretended, that his mother Cornelia animated him
to undertake something worthy both of his and her fa¬
mily. The reproaches of his mother, the authority of
some great men, namely of his father-in-law Appius
Claudius, of P. Crassus the pontifex muximus, and of
Mutius Scoevola the most learned civilian in Rome, and
his natural thirst after glory, joined with an eager desire
of revenge, conspired to draw him into this most unfor-
tunate scheme.
A new law The law, as he first drew it up, was very mild : for
proposed by it only enacted, that those who possessed more than 500
Gracchus, acres ol land should part with the overplus ; and that
the full value of the sa d lands should be paid them out
of the public treasury. The lands thus purchased by
the public were to be divided among the poor citizens ;
and cultivated either by themselves or by freemen, who
were upon the spot. Tiberius allowed every child of a
family to hold 250 acres in bis own name, over and
above what was allowed to the father. Nothing could
be more mild than this new law ; since by the Licinian
he might have absolutely deprived the rich of the lands
they m justly possessed, and made them accountable for
the profits they had received from them during their
long possession. But the rich patricians could not so
-much as hear the name of the Licinian law, though
thus qualified. Those chieflyof the senatorial and eque¬
strian order exclaimed against it, and were continually
•mounting the rostra one after another, in order to dis¬
suade the people from ac cepting a law, which, they said,
would raise disturbances, thatmight prove more dange¬
rous than the evils which Tiberius pretended to redress
by the promulgation of it. Thus the zealous tribune
was obliged day after day to enter.the lists with fresh
adversaries; but he ever got the better of them both in
point of’ eloquence and argument.
ri he peop e were charmed to hear him maintain the
cause of the unfortunate with so much success, and be¬
stowed on him the highest commendations. The rich
therefore had recourse to violence and calumny, in or¬
der to destroy, or at least to discredit, the tribune. It
i-s said they hired assassins to dispatch him; but they
■could not put their wicked design in execution, Grac¬
chus being always attended to and from the rostra by
a guard of about 4000 men. His adversaries therefore
endeavoured to ruin his reputation by the blackest ca¬
lumnies They gave out that he aimed at monarchy;
published prc.e' dcd plots laid for crowning h m
Rom
’—P
176
king. But the people, without giving ear to such
groundless reports, made it their w hole business to en¬
courage their tribune, who was hazarding both his life
and reputation for their sakes.
When the day came on which this law was to be
accepted or rejected by the people assembled in the co-
mitium, Gracchus began with haranguing the mighty
crowd which an affair of such importance had brought
together both from the city and country. In his speech
he shewed the justice of the law with so much elo¬
quence, made so moving a description of the miseries
of the meaner sort of people, and at the same time set
forth in such odious colours the usurpation of the pub¬
lic lands, and the immense riches which the avarice
and rapaciousness of the great had raked together,
that the people, transported with fury, demanded with
loud cides the billets, that they might give their suf¬
frages. Then Gracchus, finding the minds of the ci¬
tizens in that warmth and emotion which was neces¬
sary for the success of his design, ordered the law to be
read.
But unluckily one of the tribunes, by name Marcus 0PPosed
Octavius Ccecina, who had always professed a great ^,e t^1
friendship for Gracchus, having been gaine 1 over by ctavius
the patricians, declared against the proceedings of his
friend and colleague ; and pronounced the word which
had been always awful in the mouth of a tribune of the
people. Veto, “ I forbid it.” As Octavius was a man
of an unblameable character, and had hitherto been
very zealous for the publication of the law, Gracchus
was greatly surprised at this unexpected opposition from
his friend. However, he kept his temper, and only de¬
sired the people to assemble again the next day to hear
their two tribunes, one in defence of, the other in op¬
position to, the law proposed. The people met at the
time appointed ; when Gracchus addressing himself to
his colleague, conjured him by the mutual duties of
their function, and by the bonds of their ancient friend¬
ship, not to oppose the good of the people, whom they
were bound in honour to protect against the usurpation
of the great; nay, taking his colleague aside, he addres¬
sed him thus, “ Perhaps you are personally concerned
to oppose this law; if so, I mean, if you have more
than the-five hundred acres, I myself, poor as I am, en¬
gage to pay you in money what you will lose in land.”
But Octavius, either out of shame, or from a principle
of honour, continued immoveable in the party lie had
embraced.
Gracchus therefore had recourse to another expe¬
dient ; which was tosuspend all the magistrates in Rome
f om the execution of their offices. It was lawful for
any tribune to take this step, when the passing of the
law which he proposed was prevented by mere chicane¬
ry. After this, he assembled the people ane w,and made
a second attempt to succeed in his design. When all
things were got ready for collec ing the suffrages, the
rich privately conveyed away the urns in which the t -
blets werekept. 1 hiskin iledthe tribune’s indlg ation,
and the rage of the people. The comitium was like to
become a field of battle, when two venerable senators,
Manlius and Fulvius, very seasonably interposed ; and
throwing themselves at the tribune’s fret, p evai ed up¬
on him to submit his law to the judgment of the con-
sci ipt fathers. This was making the senators judges in
the r own cause : but Gracchus thought U e law so un¬
deniably
Home.
It o M [
me. denidbly just, that he could not persuade himself that
v they would reject it; and if they did, he knew that the
incensed multitude would no longer keep any measures
with them.
The senate, who wanted nothing but to gain time,
affected delays, and came to no resolution. There "were
indeed some among them, who, out of a principle of
equity, were for paying some regard to the complaints
of the tribune, and for sacrificing their own interest to
the relief of the distressed. But the far greater part
would not hear of any composition whatsoever. Here¬
upon Gracchusbroughttheaffair anew before the people,
and earnestly intreated his colleague Octavius to drop his
opposition, in compassion to the many unfortunate people
for whom he interceded. He put him in mind of their
ancient friendship, took him by the hand, and affection¬
ately embraced him. But still Octavius was inflexible.
Hereupon Gracchus resolved to deprive Octavius of his
tribuneship, since healone obstinately withstood the de¬
sires of the whole body of so great a people. Having
therefore assembled the people, he told them, that since
his colleague and he were divided in opinion, and the
republic suffered by their division, it was the province
of the tribes assembled in comitia to re-establish con¬
cord among their tribunes. “ If the cause I maintain
(said he) be, in your opinion, unjust, I am ready to
give up my seat in the college. On the contrary, if
you judge me worthy of being continued in your ser¬
vice in this station, deprive him of the tribuneship who
alone obstructs my wishes. As soon as you shall have
nominated one to succeed him, the law will pass with¬
out opposition.” Having thus spoken, hedismissed the
assembly, after having summoned them to meet again
the next day.
And now Gracchus, being soured with the opposition
he had met with from the rich, and from his obstinate
Colleague, and being well apprised, that the law would
pass in any form in which he should think fit to pro¬
pose it, resolved to revive it as it was at first passed,
without abating any thing of its severity. There was
no exception in favour of the children in families; or
reimbursement promised to those who should part with
the landstheypossessed above 500 acres. The nextday
the people being assembled in vast crowds on this ex¬
traordinary occasion, Gracchus made fresh applications
to Octavius, but to no purpose ; he obstinately persisted
in his opposition. Then Gracchus turning to the people,
“Judge you, (said he), which of us deserves to be de¬
prived of his office.” At these words the first tribe
voted, and declared for the deposition of Octavius. Up¬
on which Gracchus, suspending the ardour of the tribes,
made another effort to bring over his opponent by gentle
methods. But all his endeavours proving ineffectual,
the other tribes w'ent on to vote in their turns, and fol¬
lowed the example of the first. Of 35 tribes, 17 had
already declaredagainst Octavius, and the ISthwasjust
going to determine the affair, when Gracchus, being
willing to try once more wheth r he could reclaim Ins
colleague, suspended the collecting of tire suffrages ; and
addressingOctavius in the most pressing terms,conjured
him not to expose himself, by his obstinacy, to so great
77 a disgrace, nor to give him the grief of having east a
I is de- k/eriush upon his colleague and friend, which neither
Land time merit would ever wipe off. Octavius, how-
[lW evei% continuing obstinate1, was deposed, and the law
U Vol. XVIIII. Part I.
[61 ] II 0 M
passed as Gracchus had proposed it the last time.
The deposed tribune'was dragged from the rostra by v'“,nrw'
the incensed multitude, who would have insulted him
further, had not the senators and his friends facilitated
his escape.
The Licinian law being thus revived with one con¬
sent both by the city and country tribes, Gracchus
caused the people to appoint triumvirs, or three com¬
missioners, to hasten its execution. In this commission
the people gave Gracchus the first place; and he had
interest enough to get his father-in-law Appius Clau¬
dius, and his brother Caius Gracchus, appointed his
colleagues. These three spent the whole summer in
travelling through all the Italian provinces, to examine
w hat lands Avere held by any person above 500 acres, in
order to divide them among the poor citizens. When
Gracchus returned from his progress, he found, by the
death of his chief agent, that his absence had not aba¬
ted either the hatred of the rich, or the love of the poor,
toward him. As it plainly appeared that the deceased
had been poisoned, the tribune took this occasion to
apply himself again to his protectors, and implore their
assistance against the violence and treachery of his ene¬
mies. The populace, more attached after this accident
to their hero than ever, declared they Avould stand by
him to the last drop of their blood ; and thus their zeal
encouraged him to add a new clause to the law, viz.
that the commissioners should likewise inquire what
lands had been usurped from the republic. This was
touching the senators in a most tender point; for most
of them had appropriated to themselves lands belonging
to the republic. After all, the tribune, upon a strict
inquiry, found that the lands taken from the rich would
not be enough to content all the poor citizens. But
the following accident eased him of this difficulty, and
enabled him to stop the murmurs of the malcontents
among the people. 178
Attains Philometer, king of Pergamus, having be- Tlle trea*
queathed his dominions and effects to the Romans, Eu- sures”f At*
demus the Pergamean brought his treasures to Rome vkled a-
at this time; and Gracchus immediately got a new mong the
law passed, enacting, that this money should be divid- people by
ed among the poor citizens who could not have lands; <-iracc^u&*
and that the disposal of the revenues of Pergamus
should not be in the senate, but in the comitia By
these steps Gracchus most effectually humbled the se¬
nate ; Avho, in order to discredit him among the people,
gave out that Eudemus, who had brought the king’s
will to Rome, had left with Gracchus the royal diadem
and mantle of Attslus, which the laAV-making tribune
was to use Avhen he should be proclaimed king of
Rome. But these reports only served to jmt Gracchus
more upon his guard, and to inspire the people with
an implacable hatred against the rich who Avere the
authors of them. Gracchus being uoav, by his power
over the minds of the multitude, absolute master of their
suffrages, formed a design of raising his father-in-laAv
Appius Claudius to the consulate next year, of promo¬
ting his brother Caius to the tribuneship, and getting
himself continued in the same office, The last was
what most nearly concerned him ; his person, as long
as lie Avas in office, being sacred and inviolable. As?
the senate was very active in endeavouring to get such
only elected into the college of tribunes as Avere enemies
to Gracchus and his faction, the tribune left no stone
+ ^ unturned
ROM [ 162 ] ROM
Rsme. unturned to secure his election. He told the people,
v*,*nr*^ that the rich had resolved to assassinate him as soon as
he was cut of his office; he appeared in mourning, as
was the custom in the greatest calamities; and bringing
his children, yet young, into the forum, recommended
them to the people in such terms, as showed that he
despaired of his own preservation. At this sight the
populace returned no answer, but by outcries and me¬
naces against the rich.
When the day appointed for the election of new
tribunes came, the people were ordered to assemble in
the capitol in the great court hefore the temple of Ju¬
piter. The tribes being met, Gracchus produced his
peiition, intreating the people to continue him one year
longer in the office of tribune, in consideration of the
great danger to which he was exposed, the rich having
vowed his destruction as soon as his person should be no
more sacred. This was indeed an unusual request, it
having been long customary not to continue any tribune
in his office above a year. However, the tribes began
to vote, and the two first declared for Gracchus. Here¬
upon the rich made great clamours ; which terrified
Rubrius Varro, who presided in the college of tribunes
that day, to such a degree, that he resigned his place to
Q. Mummius who offered to preside in his room. But
this raised a tumult among the tribunes themselves ; so
thatGracchus wisely dismissed theassembly, and order¬
ed them to meet again the next day.
In the mean time the people, being sensible of what
importance it was to them to preserve the life of so
powerful a protector, not only conducted him home,
but watched by turns all night at his door. Next
morning by break of day, Gracchus having assem¬
bled his friends, led them from his house, and posted
one halt of them in the comitium, whi’e he went up
himself with the other to the capitol. As soon as he
appeared, the people saluted him with loud acclama¬
tions of joy. But scarcely was he placed in his tribu¬
nal when Fulvius Flaccus a senator, and friend to
Gracchus, breaking through the crowd, came upto him,
and gave him notice, that the senators, who were as¬
sembled in the temple of Faith, which almost touched
that of Jupiter Capitolinas, had conspired against his
179 life. were resolved to attack him openly on his
Acunspi- very tribunal. Hereupon Gracchus tucked up his
racy against robe, as it were, to prepare for a battle; and, after
is life. big example, some of his party seizing the staves of
the apparitors, prepared to defend themselves, and to
repel force by force. These preparations terrified the
other tribunes; who immediately abandoned their
places in a cowardly manner, and mixed with the
crowd ; while the priests ran to shut the gates of the
temple, for fear of its being profaned. On the other
hand, the friends of Gracchus, who were dispersed by
parties in different places, cried out. We are ready :
What must tre do ? Gracchus, whose voice could not
be hea d by all his adherents on account of the tu¬
mult, the clamours, and the confined cries of the dif¬
ferent parties, put his hand to his head; which was
the signal agreed on to prepare for battle. But some
of his enemies, putting a malicious construction upon
that gesture, immediately flew to the senate, and told
the fathers, that the seditious tribune had called for
the crown to be put upon his head. Hereupon the
senators, fancying they already saw the king of Perga-.
mus’s diadem on the tribune’s head, and the royal Rome,
mande on his shoulders, resolved to give the consul ''•-yW
leave to arm his legions, treat the friends of Gracchus
ss enemies, and turn the comitium into a field of
battle.
But the consul Mutius Scsevola, who was a pru¬
dent and moderate man, refused to be the instrument
of their ra>h revenge, and to dishonour his consulate
with the massacre of a disarmed people. As Calpur-
nius Piso, the other consul, was then in Sicily, the
most turbulent among the senators cried out, “ Since
one of our consuls is absent, and the other betrays
the republic, let us do ourselves justice ; let us imme¬
diately go and demolish with our own Jiands this idol
of the people.” Scipio Nasica, who had been all
alons: for violent measures, inveighed bitterly against
the consul for refusing to succour the republic in her
greatest distress. Scipio Nasica was the great-grand¬
son of Cneius Scipio, the uncle of the first Vfricanus,
and consequently cousin to the Gracchi by their mother
Cornelia. But nevertheless not one of the senators be-
tiayed a more irreconcileable hatred against the tribune
than he. When the prudent consul refused to arm his
legions, and put the adherents of Gracchus to deathcon-
trary to the usual forms of justice, he set no bounds to
his fury, but, rising up from his place, cried out like
a madman, Since our consul betrays us, let those who
love the republic follow me.” Having uttered these
words, he immediately walked out of the temple, at¬
tended by a great number of senators. jg0
Nasica threw his robe over his shoulders, and having A scufflk
covered his head with it, advanced with his followers ensues,ii
into the crowd, where he was joined by a company of which,
the clients and friends of the patricians, armed with
staves and clubs. These falling indifferently upon all
who sto d in their way, dispersed the crowd. Many of
Gracchus’s party took to their heels; and in that tu¬
mult all the seats being overturned and broken, Nasica,
armed with the leg of a broken bench, knocked down
all who opposed him, and at length reached Gracchus.
One of his party seized the tribune by the lappet of his
robe: bathe, quitting his gown, fled in his tunic;
and as he was in that confusion, which is inseparable
from fear, leaping over the broken benches, he had the
misfortune to slip and fall. As he was gettingupagain,
he received a blow on the head, which stunned him ;
then his adversaries rushing in upon him, with repeated
blow's put an end to his life.
R me was by his death delivered, according to Ci¬
cero, from a domestic enemy, who was more formidable
to her than even that Numantia, which hadfirst kindled
his resentments. Perhaps no man was ever born with
greater talents, or more capable of aggrandising him¬
self and doing honour to his country. But his great
mind, his manly courage, his lively, easy, and power¬
ful eloquence, were, says Cicero, like a sword in the
hands ot a madman. Gracchus abused them, not in
supporting an unjust cause, but in conducting a good
one with too much violence. He went so far as to
make some believe that he had really something in view
besi es the interest of the people whom he pretended to
relieve; an therefore some historians have represented
him as a tyrant. But the most judicious writers clear
him f rom this imputation, and ascribe his first design of
reviving the Licinian law to an eager desire of being re¬
venged
ROM [ 1
| >me. venpreJ on the senators for the affront they had very un-
^ r—^ justly put upon him, and the consul Mancinus, as we
have hinted above. The law he attempted to revive
had an air of justice, which gave a sanction to his re-
t 81 venge, without casting any blemish on his reputation.
I) friends The death of Gracchus did not put an end to the tu-
i) acred. Above 300 of the tribune’s friends lost their
lives in the affray ; and their bodies were thrown, with
that of Gracchus, into the Tiber. Nay, the senate
carried their revenge beyond the fatal day which had
stained the Capitol with Roman blood. They sought
for all the friends of the late tribune, and without any
form of law assassinated some, and forced others into
banishment. Caius Billius, one of the most zealous de¬
fenders ot the people, was seized by his enemies, and
shut up in a cask with snakes and vipers, where he mi¬
serably perished. Though the laws prohibited any ci¬
tizen to take away the life of another before he had
been legally condemned, Nasica and his followers were
acquitted by the senate, who enacted a decree, justify¬
ing all the cruelties committed against Gracchus and
; 182 his adherents.
1 distur- These disturbances were for a short time interrupted
® igbm* by a revolt of the slaves in Sicily, occasioned by the
cruelty of their masters ; but they being soon reduced,
the contests about the Sempronian law, as it was called,
again took place. Both parties were determined not
to yield; and therefore the most fatal effects ensued.
The first thing of consequence was the death of Sci-
pio Africanus the Second, who was privately strangled
in his bed by some of the partisans of the plebeian par¬
ty, about 129 B. C. Caius Gracchus, brother to him
who had been formerly killed, not only undertook the
revival of the Sempronian law, but proposed a new one,
granting the rights of Roman citizens to all the Italian
allies, who could receive no share of the lands divided in
consequence of the Sempronian law. The consequences
of this were much worse than the former ; the flame
spread through all Italy; and the nations who had made
war with the republic in its infancy again commenced
enemies more formidable than before. Fregellee, a city
of the Vo'sci, revolted : but being suddenly attacked,
was obliged to submit, and was rased to the ground;
which quieted matters for the present. Gracchus,
however, still continued his attempts to humble the se¬
nate and the rest of the patrician body: the ultimate
consequence of which was, that a price was set on his
head, and that of Fulvius his confederate, no less than
their weight in gold, to any one who should bring them
1 custom to Opimitis the chief of the patrician party. Thus the
oi roscrip- custom of proscription was begun by the patricians, of
ti begun, which they themselves soon had enough. Gracchus
and Fulvius were sacrificed, but the disorders of the re¬
public were not so easily cured.
The inundation of the Citnbri and Teutones put a
stop to the civil discords for some time longer; hut
they being defeated, as related under the article Cim-
bri and Teutones, nothing, preventer 1 the troiufles
irom being reviver! with greater fury than before, ex¬
cept the war with the Sicilian slaves, which had again
commenced with more dangerous cirumstances than
ever. But this w ar being total y ended about 99 B. C.
no fa ther obstacle remained. Marius, the co-iqueior
' iKw. of Jugurtha* and the Cimbri, undertook the cause of
the plebeians against the senate and patricians. Ha-
3 ] E O 51
ving associated himself with Apuleius and Glaueia, two Home,
factious men, they carried their proceedings to such a ''—-y-w'
length, that an open rebellion commenced, and MariuJ
himself was obliged to act against his allies. Peace,
however, was for the present restored by the ma sacre
of Apuleius and Glaueia, with a great number of their
followers; upon which Marius thought proper to leave
the city.
Whi e factious men thus endeavoured to tear the re¬
public in pieces, the attempts of well-meaning people
to heal those divisions served only to involve the state
in calamities still more grievous. The consuls observed
that many individuals of the Italian allies lived at
Rome, and falsely pretended to be Roman citizens.
By me ms of them, it wras likewise perceived, that the
plebeian party had acquired a great deal of its power;
as the votes of these pretended citizens were always at
the service of the tribunes. The consuls therefore got
a law passed, commanding all those pretended citizens
to return home. This was so much resented by the
Italian states, that an universal defection took place. A
scheme was then formed by M. Livius Drusus, a tri¬
bune of the people, to reconcile all orders of men ; but
this only made matters worse, and procured his own as- jg.^
sassination. His deatli seemed a signal for war. The The social
Marsi, Peligni, Samnites, Campanians, and Lucanians, war.
and in short all the provinces from the rive- Liris to
the Adriatic, revolted at once, and formed themselves
into a republic, in opposition to that of Rome. The
haughty Romans were now made thoroughly sensible
that they wrere not invincible: they w'ere defeated in
almost every engagement: and must soon liave yielded,
had they not fallen upon a method of dividing their
enemies. A law was passed, enacting, that all the
nations in Italy, whose alliance with Rome was indis¬
putable, should enjoy the right of Roman citizens.
This drew off several nations from the alliance ; and at
the same time, Sylla taking upon him the command of
the Roman armies, fortune soon declared in favour of
the latter.
The success of Rome against the allies served only to
bring greater miseries upon herself. Marius and Syl'a
became rivals ; the former adhering to the people, and
the latter to the patricians Marius associated with one
of the tribunes named Sulpitius ; in conjunction with
whom he raised such disturbances, that Sylla was for¬
ced to retire from the city. Having thus driven off
his rival, Marius got himself appointed general against
Mithridates * king of Pontus ; but the soldiers refused « See p(m^
to obey any other than Sylla. A civil war immediate- tus.
ly ensued, in which Marius was driven out in his turn,
and a price set upon his head and that of Sulpitius,
with many of their adherents. Sulpitius was soon sei¬
zed and killed ; but Marius made his escape. In the
mean time, hov ever, the cruelties of Sylla rendered
him obnoxious both to the senate and people ; and Cin-
na, a furious partisan of the Marian faction, being cho¬
sen consul, cited him to give an account of his conduct.
Up!-n this Sylla thought proper to set out for A ia;
Marius was recalled from Africa, whither he had fled ;
and immediately on his landing in Italy, was joined by
a great number of shepherds, slaves, and men of despe¬
rate fortunes ; so that he soon saw himself at the head
of a considerab’e army.
Cinna, in the mean time, whom the senators had de-
X 2 posed
li 0 M [ 164 ] II O M
Rome. posed and driven out of Rome, solicited and obtained
a powerful army from the allies ; and being joined by
Sertorius, a most able and experienced general, the
croe’ties t'vo’ conjunction with Marius, advanced towards the
committed Capitol; and as their forces daily increased, a fourth
by Ginna, army was formed under the command of Papirius Car-
Marius, &c. b;). The senate raised some forces to defend the city ;
but the troops being vastly inferior in number, and
likewise inclined to the contrary side, they were obli¬
ged to open their gates to the confederates. Marius
entered at the head of a numerous guard, composed of
Slaves, whom he called his Bardiceuns, and whom he
designed to employ in revenging himself on his enemies.
The first order he gave these assassins was, to murder all
who came to salute him, and were not answered with
the like civility. As every one was forward to pay his
, compliments to the new tyrant, this order proved the
destruction of vast numbers. At last these Bardiaeans
abandoned themselves to such excesses in every kind of
vico, that Cinna and Sertorius ordered their troops to
fall upon them ; which being instantly put in execution,
they were all cut off to a man.
By the destruction of his guards, Marius was re¬
duced to the necessity of taking a method of gratifying
his revenge somewhat more tedious, though equally
effectual. A conference was held between the four
chiefs, in which Marius seemed quite frantic with rage.
Sertorius endeavoured to moderate his fury; but, being
overruled by Cinna and Carbo, a resolution was taken
to murder without mercy all the senators who had op¬
posed the popular faction. This was immediately put
in execution. A general slaughter commenced, which
lasted five days, and during which the greatest part of
the obnoxious senators were cut off, their heads stuck
upon poles over-against the rostra, and their bodies
dragged with hooks into the forum, where they were
left to be devoured by dogs. Sylla’s house wras de¬
molished, his goods confiscated, and he himself declared
an enemy to his country : however, his wife and chil¬
dren had the good fortune to make their escape.—
This massacre was not confined to the city of Rome.
The soldiers, like as many blood-hounds, were disper¬
sed over the country in search of those w ho fled. The
neighbouring towns, villages, and all the highways,
swarmed with assassins ; and on this occasion Plutarch
observes with great concern, that the most sacred ties
of friendship and hospitality are not proof against trea¬
chery, in the day of adversity, for there were but very
few who did not discover their friends who had fled to
78. them for shelter.
Sylla threa- This daughter being over, Cinna named himself and
tens re- Marius consuls for the ensuing year ; and these tyrants
venge. seemed resolved to begin the new year as they had
ended the old one: but, while they were preparing to
renew their cruelties, Sylla, having proved victorious
in the east, sent a long letter to the senate, giving an ac¬
count of his many victories, and his resolution of return¬
ing to Rome, not to restore peace to his country, but
to revenge himself of his enemies, i. e. to destroy those
whom Marius had spared. This letter occasioned an
universal terror. Marius, dreading to enter the lists
■with such a renowned warrior, gave himself up to ex-
eess’.ve drinking, atid died. His son was associated with
Cinna in the government, though not in the consulship,
and proved a tyrant no less cruel than his father. The
senate declared one Valerius Flaccus, general ol the for- Rotes.
ces in the east, and appointed him a considerable army ; WyW
but the troops all to a man deserted him, and joined
Sylla. Soon after, Cinna declared himself consul a
third time, and took for his colleague Papirius Carbo;
but the citizens dreading the tyranny of these inhuman
monsters, fled in crowds to Sylla, who was now in
Greece. To him the senate sent deputies, begging
that he would have compassion on his country, and not
carry his resentment to such a length as to begin a ci¬
vil war: but be replied that he was coming to Rome
full of rage and revenge; and that all his enemies, if
the Roman people consented to it, should perish either
by the sword or the axes of the executioners. Upon
this severs! very numerous armies were formed against
him, but, through the misconduct of the generals who
commanded them, these armies were everywhere de¬
feated, or went over to the enemy. Pompey, after¬
wards styled the Great, signalized himself in this war,
and embraced the party of Sylla. The Italian nations
took some one side and some another, as their different
inclinations led them. Cinna, in the mean time, was
killed in a tumult, and young Marius and Carbo suc¬
ceeded him ; but the former having ventured an engage¬
ment with Sylla, was by him defeated, and forced to fly
to Praeneste, where he was closely besieged. igfi
Thus was Rome reduced to the lowest degree of Rome in
misery, when one Pontius Telesinus, a Samnite of great ^Ie utmost
experience in war, projected the total ruin of the city. ^^e^ele
He had joined, or pretended to join, the generals of £jnusa
the Marian faction with an army of 40,000 men ; and Samnite.
therefore marched towards Prasneste, as if he designed
to relieve Marius. By this means he drew Sylla and
Pompey away from the capitol; and then, decamping
in the night, overreached these two generals, and by
break of day was within 10 furlongs of the Collatine
gate. He then pulled off the mask ; and declaring
himself as much an enemy to Marius as to Sylla, told
his troops, that it was not his design to assist ore Ro¬
man against another, but to destroy the whole race.
“ Let fire and sword (said he) destroy all; let no quar¬
ter be given ; mankind can never be free as long as one
Roman is left alive.” —M ever had this proud metropo¬
lis been in greater danger; nor ever had any city a more
narrow escape. The Roman youth marched out to
oppose him, but were driven back with great slaughter.
Sylla himself was defeated, and forced to fly to his
camp. Telesinus advanced with more fury than ever ;
but, in the mean time, the other wing of his army ha¬
ving been defeated by M Crassus, the victorious gene¬
ral attacked the body where Telesinus commanded, and
by putting them to flight, saved his country Irom the
most imminent danger. jg7
Sylla, having now no enemy to fear, marched first jvionstrou: ‘
to Atemnae, and thence to Home. From the former crueltyof j
city he carried 8000 prisoners to Rome, and caused Sylla.
them a 1 to be massacred at once in the circus. His
cruelty next fell upon the Prsenestines, 12,000 of whom
were massacred without mercy. Young Marius had
killed himself, in order to avoid falling into the hands
of such a cruel enemy. Soon after, the inhabitants of
Norba, a city of Campania, finding themselves unanle
to resist the forces of the tyrant, set fire to their houses,
and all perished m the flames. The taking of these
c.ties put an end to the civil war, but not to the cruel¬
ties
It 0 M [ 105 ] It O M
] ne. ties of Syllo. Having assembled tlie people in the co-
U mitium, iie told them, tha? he was resolved not to spare
a single person who h d borne arms against him. I his
cruel resolution he put in execution with the most un¬
relenting rigour; and having at last cut off all those
whom lie thought capable of opposing him, Sylla caused
himself to be declared perpetud dictator, or, in other
I g words, king and absolute sovereign of Rome.
He pro- This revolution happened about 80 B. C. and from
dai il this time we may date the loss of the Roman liberty,
per ual gyiia indeed resigned his power in two yews ; but the
p® r* citizens of Rome having once submitted, were ever
after more inclined to submit to a master. Though
individuals retained the same enthusiastic notions ot li¬
berty as before, yet the minds of the generality seem
from tliis time to have inclined towards monarchy. New
masters were indeed already prepared for the republic.
• Caesar and Pompey had eminently distinguished them¬
selves by their martial exploits, and were already rivals.
They were, however, for some time prevented from
raising any disturbances by being kept at a distance from
each other. Sertorius, one of the generals of the Ma¬
rian faction, and the only one of them possessed either
of honour or probity, had retired into Spain, where he
erected a republic independent of Rome. Pompey and
Metellus, two of the best reputed generals in Rome,
were sent against him ; but instead of conquering, they
were on all occasions conquered by him, and obliged to
abandon their enterprise with disgrace. At last Serto¬
rius was treacherously murdered ; and the traitors, who
after his death usurped the command, being tot :lly de¬
stitute of his abilities, were easily defeated by Pompey
and thus that geneial reaped an undeserved honour from
concluding the war with success.
The Spanish war was scarce ended, when a very
dangerous one was excited by Spartacus, a Thracian
gladiator. For some time this rebel proved very suc¬
cessful ; but at last was totally defeated and killed by
Crassus. The fugitives, however, rallied again, to the
number of 5000 ; but, being totally defeated by Pom-
I pey, the latter took occasion from thence to claim the
>„ ey glory which was justly due to Crassus. Being thus
nc rassus become extremely popular, and setting no bounds to his
ss'ie ambition, lie wras chosen consul along with Crassus.
jPrlu‘ Both generals were at the head of powerful armies;
I ’ and a contest between them immediately began about
who should first lay down their arms. With difficulty
they were in appearance reconciled, and immediately
began to oppose one another in a new way. Pompey
courted the favour of the people, by reinstating the tri¬
bunes in their ancient power, which had been greatly
abridged by Sylla. Crassus, though naturally covetous,
entertained the populace with surprising profusion at
10,000 tables, and at the same t:me distributed corn
sufficient to maintain their families for three months.—
These prodigious expences will seem less surprising,
when we consider that Crassus was the richest man in
Rome, and that his estate amounted to upwards of 7000
talents, i. e. L.1,356,250 sterling. Notwithstanding his
utmost efforts, however, Pompey still had the superiori¬
ty ; and was therefore proposed as a proper person to
be employed for clearing the seas of pirates. In this
new station a most extensive power was to be granted
to him He was to have an absolute authority for three
years over all the seas within the straits or Pillars of
Hercules, and over all the countries for the space of Xmnei
400 furlongs from the sea. He was empowered to raise
as many soldiers and mariners as he thought proper ; to
take what sums of money he pleased out of the public
treasury without being accountable for them; and to
choose out of the senate fifteen senators to be his lieu¬
tenants, and to execute his orders when he himself could
not be present. The sensible part of the people were
against investing one man with so much po ' er; but the
unthinking multitude rendered all opposition iruitless.
The tribune Roscius attempted to speak against it, but
Avas prevented by the clamours of the people. He then
held up two of his fingers, to show that he was for di¬
viding that extensive commission between two persons :
but on this the assembly burst out into such hideous out¬
cries, that a crow flying accidentally over the comitium,
was stunned with the noise, and fell down among the
rabble. This law being agreed to, Pompey executed
his commission so much to the public satisfaction, that
on his return a new law was proposed in his favour. By
this he Avas to be appointed general of; 11 the forces in
Asia; and as he-was still to retain the sovereignty of
the seas, he Avas noAv in fact made sovereign of all the
Roman empire.—This laAv was supported by Cicero and
Caesar, the former aspiring at the consulate, and the lat¬
ter pleased to seethe Romans so readilyappo nting them¬
selves a master. Pompey, however, executed Ins com¬
mission with the utmost fidelity and success, com¬
pleting the conquest of Pontus, Albania, Iberia, &c.
which had been successfully begun by Sylla and Lu-
cullus. 190
But while Pompey Avas thus aggrandising himself,
the republic Avas on the point of being subverted by a 0 ‘ 1L‘
conspiracy formed by Lucius Sergius Catiline. He Avas
descended from an illustrious family ; but having quite
ruined his estate, and rendered himself infamous by a
series of the most detestable ci’imes, he associated with a
number of others in circumstances similar to his oAvn,
in order to repair their broken fortunes by ruining their
country. Their scheme was to murder the consuls to¬
gether Avith the gre test part of the senators, set fire to
the city in different places, and then seize the govern¬
ment. This wicked design miscarried tAvice : but Avas
not on that account dropped by the conspirators. Their
party increased every day; and both Ctesar and Crassus,
who since the departure of Pompey had studied to gain
the affections of the people as far as possible, were
thought to have been privy to the conspiracy. At last,
hoAvever, the matter was discovered by means of a young
knight, who had indiscreetly revealed the secret to his
paramour. Catiline then openly took the field, and soon
raised a considerable army: but Avas utterly defeated
and killed about 02 B. C.; and thus the republic was
freed from the present danger.
In the mean time, Caesar continued to advance in po¬
pularity and in power. Soon after the defeat of Cati¬
line, he was created pontifex maximus ; and after that
was sent into Spain, where he subdued several nations
that had never before been subject to Pome.— While he
was thus employed, his rival Pompey r; turned from the
east, and was received with the highest honours; but
though still as ambitious as ever, he uoav affected ex¬
traordinary modesty, and declined accepting of the ap¬
plause which Avas offered him. His aim Avas to assume
a sovereign authority without seeming to desire it; but
he
ft O M [ ICG ] ft O M
Homo. he was soon convinced, that, if he desired to reign over
\**~~y~**>/ his fellow-citizens, it must be by force of arms He
therefore renewed his intrigues, and spared no pains
however mean and scandalous, to increase his populari¬
ty. Csesar, on his return from Spain, found the sove¬
reignty divided between Crassus and Pompey, each of
whom was ineffectually struggling to get the better of
the other. Caesar, no less ambitious than the other two,
1 f)i proposed that they should put an end to their differences.
The first and take him for a partner in their power. In short,
triumvi- he projected a triumvirate, or association of three pre-
rate. sons, (Pompey, Crassus, and himself), in which should
be lodged the whole power of the senate and people ;
and, in order to make their confederacy more lasting,
they bound themselves by mutual oaths and promises to
stand by each other, and suffer nothing to be under¬
taken or carried into execution without the unanimous
consent of all the three.
Thus was the liberty of the Homans taken away a
second time, nor did they ever afterwards recover it;
though at present none perceived that this was the case,
except Cato. The association of the triumvirs was for
a long time kept secret; and nothing appeared to the
people except the reconciliation of Pompey and Crassus,
for which the state reckoned itself indebted to Csesar.
'I he first consequence of the triumvirate was the consul¬
ship of Julius Csesar. But though this was obtained by
the favour of Pompey and Crassus, he found himself dis¬
appointed in the colleague he wanted to associate with
him in that office. He had pitched upon one whom he
knew lie could manage as lie pleased, and distributed
large sums among the people in order to engage them
to vote for him. 1 he senate, however, and even Cato
himself, resolved to defeat the triumvir at his own 'wea¬
pons ; and having therefore set up another candidate,
distributed such immense sums on the opposite side, that
Caesar, notwithstanding the vast riches he had acquired,
was forced to yield. This defeat proved of small con¬
sequence. Caesar set himself to engage the affections of
the people; and this lie did, by an agrarian law, so ef¬
fectually, that he was in a manner idolized. The law
was in itself very reasonable and just; nevertheless, the
senate, perceiving the design with which it was propos¬
ed, thought themselves bound to oppose it. Their op¬
position however, proved fruitless: the consul Bibulus,
who shew ed himself most active inhis endeavours against
it, was driven out of the assembly with the greatest in¬
dignity, and from that day became of no consideration ;
so that Caesar was reckoned the sole consul.
I ae next step taken by Caesar was to secure the
knights, as lie had already done the people; and for
this purpose he abated a third of the rents which they
annually paid into the treasury; after which he go¬
verned Jlome with an absolute sway during the time of
his consulate, ihe reign oi this triumvir, however,
was ended by his expedition into Gaul, where his mi¬
litary exploits acquired him the highest reputation. 
Pompey and Crassus in the mean time became consuls,
and governed as despotically ns Caesar himself had done!
On the expiration of their first consulate, the republic
fell into a kind of anarchy, entirely owing to the disor¬
ders occasioned by the two late consuls. At last, how¬
ever tins confusion was ended by raising Crassus and
Pompey to the consulate a second time. This was no
sooner none, than a new partition of the empire was
proposed. Crassus was to have Syria and all the eastern Home,
provinces, Pompey was to govern Africa and Spain, Wy-,
and Caesar to be continued in Gaul, and all this for the
space of five years. This law was passed by a great ma¬
jority ; upon which Crassus undertook an expedition
against the Parthians, whom he imagined he should ea¬
sily overcome, and then enrich himself with their spoils;
Caesar applied with great assiduity to the completing of
the conquest of Gaul; and Pompey having nothing to
do in his province, staid at Rome to govern the republic
alone.
The affairs of the Romans were now hastening to a
crisis. Crassus, having oppressed all the provinces of
the east, was totally defeated and killed by the Par¬
thians *; after which the two great rivals Caesar and « gee p
Pompey were left alone, without any third person who ihia.
could hold the balance between them, or prevent the 192
deadly quarrels which w ere about to ensue. Matters, TTalslii;
however, continued pretty quiet till Gaul was reduced of Ca!Sai
to a Roman province t. The question then was, whe- Pon
ther Caesar or Pompey should first resign the command -j- Ste G|
of their armies, and return to the rank of private per¬
sons. As both parties saw, that whoever first laid down
his arms must of course submit to the other, both refu¬
sed to disarm themselves. As Caesar, however, had
amassed immense riches in Gaul, he was now in a condi¬
tion not only to maintain an army capable of vying with
Pompey, but even to buy over the leading men in Rome
to his interest. One of the consuls, named JEmilius
Panins, cost him no less than 1500 talents, or L.310,625
sterling ; but the other, named Marcellas, could not be
gained at any price. Pompey had put at the head of
the tribunes one Scribonius Curio, a young patrician of
great abilities, but so exceedingly debauched and ex¬
travagant, that he owed upwards of four millions and a
half of our money. Caesar, by enabling him to satisfy
his creditors, and supplying him with money to pursue
his debaucheries, secured him in his interest; and Curio,
without seeming to be in Caesar’s interest, found means
to do him the most essential service. He proposed that
both generals should be recalled; being well assured that
Pompey would never consent to part with his army,
or lay down the government of Spain with which he
had been invested, so that Caesar might draw from Pom-
pey’s refusal a pretence for continuing himself in his
province at the head of his troops. This proposal threw
the opposite party into great embarrassments; and while
both professed their pacific intentions, both continued
in readiness for the most obstinate and bloody war. 
Cicero took upon himself the office of mediator; but
Pompey would hearken to no terms of accommodation.
The orator, surprised to find him so obstinate, at the
same time that he neglected to strengthen his army,
asked him with what forces he designed to make head
against Caesar ? rI o which the other answered, that he
needed but stamp with his foot, and an army would start
up out of the ground. This confidence he assumed be¬
cause he persuaded himself that Caesar’s men would
abandon him if matters came to extremities. Caesar,
however, though he affected great moderation, yet kept
himself in readiness for the worst; and therefore, when
the senate passed the fatal decree for a civil war, he was jgg j
not in the least Jarmed. This decree was issued in the The dcc!
j ear 49 B. C. and was expressed in the following words: for a civl
Let the consuls for the year, the proconsul Pompey, war*
the
It O M [ 167 ] E 0 M
Bame. the pi^tors, and all those in or near Rome who have
v been consuls, provide for the public safety by the most
proper means.” This decree was no sooner passed than
the consul Marcellus went, with his colleague Lentulus,
to an house at a small distance from the town, where
Pompey then was; and presenting him with a sword,
“ We require you (said he) to take upon you with this
the defence of the republic, and the command of her
troops.” Pornpey obeyed : and Caesar was by the same
decree divested of his office, and one Lucius Domitius
appointed to succeed him, the new governor being em¬
powered to raise 4000 men in order to take possession
of his province.
War being thus resolved on, the senate and Pompey
began to make the necessary preparations for opposing
Caesar. The attempt of the latter to withstand their
authority they termed a tumult ; from which contemp¬
tible epithet it appeared that they either did not know,
or did not dread, the enemy whom they were bringing
upon themselves. However, they ordered 30,000 Ro¬
man forces to be assembled, together with as many fo¬
reign troops as Pompey should think proper; the ex¬
pence of which armament was defrayed from the public
treasury. The governments of provinces, and all pub¬
lic honours, were bestowed upon such as v/ere remark¬
able for their attachment to Pompey and their enmity to
Caesar. The latter, however, was by no means wanting
in what concerned his own interest. Three of the tri¬
bunes who had been his friends were driven out of Rome,
and arrived in his camp disguised like slaves. Caesar
showed them to his army in this ignominious habit;
and, setting forth the iniquity of the senate and patri¬
cians, exhorted his men to stand by their general under
whom they had served so long w ith success; and finding
by their acclamations that he could depend on them, he
resolved to begin hostilities immediately.
The first design of Caesar vras to make himself master
H ilmes of Arminium, a city bordering upon Cisalpine Gaul,
l ' and consequently a p rt of his province; but as this
would be looked upon as a declaration of war, he re¬
solved to keep his design as private as possible. At that
time he himself was at Ravenna, from whence he sent
a detachment towards the Rubicon, desiring the officer
who commanded it to wait for him on the banks of that
river. The next day he assisted at a show of gladiators,
and made a great entertainment. Towards the close of
the day he arose from table, desiring his guests to stay
till he came back, which he said would be very soon ;
but, instead of returning to the company, he immedi¬
ately set out for the Rubicon, having left orders to some
of his most intimate friends to follow him through dif-
rent roads to avoid being observed. Having arrived
at the Rubicon, wffiich parted Cisalpine Gaul from Ita¬
ly, the succeeding misfortunes of the empire occurred
to his mind, and made him hesitate. Turning then to
Asinius Pollio, “ If I don’t cross the river (said he),
I am undone ; and if I do cross it, how many calami¬
ties shall I by this means bring upon Rome !” Having
thus spoken, he mused a few minutes ; and then crying
out, “ The die is cast,” he threw himself him into the ri¬
ver, and crossing it, marclted with all possible speed to
Arminium, which he reached and surprised before day¬
break. From thence, as he h; d but one legion with
him, he dispatched orders to the formidable army he
had left in Gaul to cross the mountains and join him.
The activity of Caesar struck the opposite party with Rome,
the greatest terror; and indeed not without reason, for
they had been extremely negligent in making prepara¬
tions against such a formidable opponent. Pompey him¬
self, no less alarmed than the rest, left Rome with ade-
sign to retire to Capua, where he had two legions whom
he had formerly draughted out of Caesar’s army. He
communicated his intended flight to the senate; but at
the same time acquainted them, that if any magistrate
or senator refused to follow' him he should be treated as
a friend to Caesar and an enemy to his country. In the
mean time Caesar, having raised new troops in Cisalpine
Gaul, sent Marc Antony with a detachment to seize
Aretium, and some other officers to secure Pisaurum
and Fanum, while he himself marched at the head of
the thirteenth legion to Auximum, which opened its
gates to him. From Auximum he advanced into pj_Take6se-
ceniun, where he was joined by the twelfth legion from veral towI“*
Transalpine Gauk As Picenum readily submitted to
him, he led his forces against Corfinium, the capital of
the Peligni, which Domitius Ahenobarbus defended with
thirty cohorts. But Caesar no sooner invested it . than
the garrison betrayed their commander, and delivered
him up with many senators, who had taken refuge in
the place, to Caesar, who granted them their lives and
liberty. Domitius, fearing the resentment of the con¬
queror, had ordered one of his slaves, whom he used as a
physician, to give him a dose of poison. When he came
to experience the humanity of the conqueror, lie lament¬
ed his misfortune, and blamed the hastiness of his own
resolution. But his physician, who had only given him
a sleeping draught, comforted him, and received his li¬
berty as a reward for his affection. ;
Pompey, thinking himself no longer safe at Capua Besieges
after the reduction of Corfinium retired to Brundu-PomPeD
shim, w ith a design to carry the war into the east,
where all the governors were his creatures. Crnsar fol- gem.
lowed him close; and arriving w ith his army before
Brundusium, invested the place on the land-side, and
undertook to shut up the port by a staccado of his own
invention. But, before the work was completed, the
fleet wdiich had conveyed the two consuls with thirty
cohorts to Dyrrhachium being returned. Pompey re¬
solved to make his escape, which he conducted w ith all
the experience and dexterity of a great officer. He
kept his departure very secret; but, at the same time,,
made all necessary preparations for the facilitating of it.
In the first place, he walled up the gates, then dug deep
and wide ditches cross all the streets, except only those
two that led to the port; in the ditches he planted
sharp-pointed stakes, covering them with hurdles and
earth. After these precautions he gave express orders
that all the citizens should keep within doors lest they
should betray his design to the enemy; and then, in the
space of three days, embarked all his troops, except
the light-armed infantry, whom he had placed on the
walls ; and these, likewise, on a signal given, abandon¬
ing their posts, repaired with great expedition to the
ships. Caesar perceiving the walls unguarded, ordered
his men to scale them, and make what haste they could
after the enemy. In the heat of the pursuit, they would
have fallen into the ditches which Pompey had prepared
for them, had not the Brundusians warned them of the
danger, and, by many w indings and turnings, led them
to the haven, where they found all the fleet under sail,
except
K O M
r i6s ]
E O M
197
Caesar goes
to Koine.
Home, except two vessels, which had run aground in going out
-■'V'**'' of the harbour. These Caesar took, made the soldiers
on board prisoners, and brought them ashore.
Caesar, seeing himself, by the flight of his rival, mas¬
ter of all Italy from the Alps to the sea, was desirous
to follow and attack him before he was joined by the
supplies which he expected from Asia. But being des¬
titute of shipping, he I’esolved to go first to Rome, and
settle some sort of government there ; and then pass in¬
to Spain, to drive from thence Pompey’s troops, who
had taken possession of that gi’eat continent, under the
command of Afranius and Petreius. Before he left
Brundusium, hesent Scribonius Curio with three legions
into Sicily, and ordered Q. Valerius, one of his lieute¬
nants, to get together what ships he could, and cross
over vviih one legion into Sardinia. Cato, who com¬
manded in Sicily, upon the first news of Curio’s land¬
ing there, abandoned the island, and retired to the
camp of the consuls at Dyrrhachium ; and Q. Valerius
no sooner appeared with his small fleet off Sardinia,
than the Caralitini, now the inhabitants of Cagliari,
drove out Aurelius Cotta, who commanded there for the
senate, and put Ceesar’s lieutenant in possession both of
their city and islands
In the mean time the general himself advanced to¬
wards Rome ; and on his .march wrote to all the sena¬
tors then in Italy, desiring them to repair to the capi¬
tal and assist him with their counsel. Above all, he
was desirous to see Cicero ; but could not prevail upon
him to return to Rome. As Cassar drew near the ca¬
pita!, he quartered his troops in the neighbouring mu-
nicipia : and then advancing to the city, out of a pre¬
tended respect to the ancient customs, he took up his
quarters in the suburbs, whither the whole city crowd¬
ed to see the famous conqueror of Gaul, who had been
absent near ten years. And now smh of the tribunes
of the people as had fled to him for refuge reassumed
their functions, mounted the rostra, and endeavoured by
their speeches to reconcile the people to the head of
their party. Marc Antony particularly, and Cassius
Longinus, two of Caesar’s most zealous partisans, moved
that the senate should meet in the suburbs, that the ge¬
neral might give them an account of his conduct. Ac¬
cordingly, such of the senators as were at Rome assem¬
bled ; when Ceesnr made a speech in justification of all
his proceedings, and conclude 1 his harangue with pro¬
posing a deputation to Pompey, with offers of ;m ac¬
commodation in an amicable manner. He even desired
tiie conscript fathers, to whom in appearance he paid
great deference, to nominate some ot their venerable
bony to carry proposals of peace to the consuls, and the
general of the consular army ; but none of the senators
would take upon him that commission. He then began
to think of providing himself with the necessary sums
for carrying on the war, and had recourse to the public
treasury. But Metellus, one of the tribunes, opposed
him ; alleging a law forbidding any one to open the
treasury, but in the presence and with the consent of
the consuls. Caesar, however, without regarding the
tribune, went directly to the temple of Saturn, where
the public money was kept. But the keys of the trea-
fcury having been carried away by the con,-u! Lentulus,
he .ordered the doors to be broken open. This Metel¬
lus opposed : but Caesar, in a passion, laying his hand
on his swo.d, thrcatei.ed to kill him if he gave him any
farther disturbance; which sq terrified Metellus, that
he withdrew. Caesar took out of the treasury, which
was ever after at his command, an immense sum ; some
say, 300,000 pounds weight of gold. With this supply
of money he raised troops all over Italy, and sent go¬
vernors into all the provinces subject to the republic.
Caesar now made Marc Antony commander in chief
of the armies in Italy, sent his brother C. Antonias to
govern Illyricum, assigned Cisalpine Gaul to Licinius
Crassus, appointed M. 7£milius Lepidus governor of
the capital; and having got together some ships to
cruise in the Adriatic and Mediterranean seas, he gave
the command of one of his fleets to P. Cornelius Do-
labella, and of the other to young Hortensiu^, the son
of the famous orator. As Pompey had sent governors
into the same provinces, by this means a general war
was kindled in almost all the parts of the known world.
However, Caesar would not trust any of his lieutenants
with the conduct of the war in Spain, which was Porn-
pey’s favourite province, but took it upon himself; and
having settled his affairs in great haste at Rome, re¬
turned to Ariminum, assembled his legions there, and
passing the Alps, entered Transalpine Gaul. There he
was informed that the inhabitants of Marseilles had re¬
solved to refuse him entrance into their city ; and that
L. Domitius Ahenoharbus, whom he had generously
pardoned and set at liberty after the reduction of Cor-
sinium, had set sail for Marseilles with seven galleys,
having on board a great number of his clients and
slaves, with a design to raise the city in favour of Pom¬
pey. Caesar, thinking it dangerous to let the enemy
take possession of such an important place, sent for the
15 chief magistrates of the city, and advised them not
to begin a war with him, but rather follow the example
of Italy, and submit. The magistrates returned to the
city, and soon after informed him that they were to
stand neuter: but in the mean time Domitius arriving
with his small squadron, was received into the city, and
declared general of all their forces. Hereupon Ceesar
immediately invested the town with three legions, and
ordered twelve galleys to be built at Arelas, now Jr/es,
in order to block up the port. But as the siege was
like to detain him too long, he left C. Trebonius to
carry it on, and D. Brutus to command the fleet, while
he continued his march into Spain, where he began the
war with all the valour, ability, and success of a great
general. Pompey had three generals in this continent,
which was divided into two Roman provinces. Varro
commanded in Farther Spain ; and Petreius and Afra¬
nius, with equal power, and two considerable armies,
in Hither Spain. Caesar, while he was yet at Marseilles,
sent Q.Fabius, one of hislieutenants, with three legions,
to take possession of the passes of the Pyrenees, which
Afranius had seized. Fabius executed his commission
with great bravery, entered Spain,and left the way op. n
for Caesar, who quickly followed him. As soon as he
had crossed the mountains, he sent out scouts to observe
the situation of the enemy ; by whom he was informed,
that Afranius and Petreius havincr joined their forces,
consisting ot five legions, 20 cohorts of the natives, and
5000 horse, were advantageously posted on an hill of an
easy a cent in the neighbourhood of llerda, now Lerida,
in Catalonia. Upon this advice Cae ar advanced within
sight of the enemy, and encamped in a plain between
the Sicoris and Cinga, now the Segro and. Cinca. Be¬
tween
Route.
198
Supplies
himself
with mo-
ney from
the publit
treasury.
ft 0 M
[ 169 ]
ft O M
ime.
09
Is luced
v to iat
di. c>s in
m ■
tween the eminence on which Afranius haul posteti him¬
self, and the city of Ilerda, was a small plain, and in the
middle of it a rising ground, which Caesar attempted to
seize, in order to cut off by that means the communi
,• _ 1   ^1, _  >_    1 £. 
RfiVtTff,
cation between the enemy’s camp and the city, from
whence they had all their provisions. This occasior
y ^ x occasioned
a sharp dispute between three of Caesar’s legions and an
equal number of the enemy, which lastedfive hours with
equal success, both parties claiming the victory. But
after all, Afranius’s men, who had first seized the post,
maintained themselves in possession of it in spite o; Cae¬
sar’s utmost efforts. Two days after this battle, conti¬
nual rains, witli the melting of the snow on the moun¬
tains, so swelled the two rivers between which Caesar
was encamped, that they overflowed, broke down his
bridges, and laid under water the neighbouring country
to a great distance. This cut off the communication
between his camp and the cities that had declared for
him; and reduced him to such straits, that his army
wras ready to die for famine, wheat being sold in his
camp at 50 Roman denarii per bushel, that is, L.l 12s.
1 id. sterling. He tried to rebuild his bridges, but in
vain; the violence of the stream rendering all his en¬
deavours fruitless.
Upon the newrs of Caesar’s distress, Pompey’s party
at Rome began to take courage. Several persons of
distinction went to congratulate Afranius’s wife on the
success of her husband’s arms in Spain. Many of the
senators who had hitherto stood neuter, hastened to
Pompey’s camp, taking it for granted that Caesar was
reduced to the last extremity, and all hopes of his party
lost. Of this number was Cicero ; who, without any
regard to the remonstrances of Atticus, or. the letters
Caesar himself wrote to him, desiring him to join nei¬
ther party, left Italy, and landed at Dyrrhachium,
where Pompey received him with great marks of joy
and friendship. But the joy of Pompey’s party was
not long-lived. For Caesar, after having attempted se¬
veral times in vain to rebuild his bridges, caused boats
to be made with all possible expedition ; and while the
Dv mes enemy were diverted by endeavouring to intercept the
50
lit
Scul- succours that v,rcre sent him from Gaul, he laid hold of
"‘jrc* that opportunity to convey his boats in the night on
carriages 22 miles from his camp; where Avith won¬
derful quickness a great detachment passed the Sicoris,
and encamping on the opposite bank unknown to the
enemy, built a bridge in two days, opened a commu¬
nication with the neighbouring country, received the
supplies from Gaul, and relieved the wants of his sol¬
diers. Ceesar being thus delivered from danger, pur¬
sued the armies of Afranius and Petreius Avith such su¬
perior address and conduct, that he forced them to sub¬
mit without coming to a battle, and by that means be¬
came master of all Hither Spain. The tAvo generals
disbanded their troops, sent them out of the province,
and returned to Italy, after having solemnly promised
never to assemble forces again , or make war upon Cresar.
Upon the news of the reduction of Hither Spain, the
Spaniards in Farther Spain, and one Roman legion,
deserted from Varro, Pompey’s governor in that pro¬
vince, which obliged him to surrender his other lemon
and all his money.
Ccesar having thus reduced all Spain in a feAv months,
appointed Cassius Longinus to govern the two provinces
Avith four legions, and then returned to Marseilles •
Vol. XVIII, Part 1.
201
Returns to
which city was just upon the point of surrendering after
a most vigorous resistance. Though the inhabitants had
by their late treachery deserved a severe punishment, yet
lie granted them their lives and liberty; but stripped
their arsenals of arms, and obliged them to deliver up
all their ships. From Marseilles Caesar marched into
Cisalpine Gaul; and from thence hastened to Rome,
Avhere he laid the foundation of his future grandeur.
He found the city in a very different state from that in
Avhich he had left it. Most of the senators and magi
strates were fled to Pompey at Dyrrhachium. Hoav- Rome, ami
ever, there were still praetors there ; and among them 13 cieated
M. /Emilius Lepidus, who was afteiwards one of the dictaU'r*
triumvirs with Octavius and Marc Antony. The prge-
tor, to ingratiate himself with Caesar, nominated him
dictator of his own authority, and against the inclina¬
tion of the senate. Caesar accepted the new dignity :
but neither abused his power, as Sylla had done, nor
retained it so long. During the 11 days of his dicta¬
torship, he governed with great moderation, and gained
tlie affections both of the people and the patricians.
He recalled the exiles, granted the rights and privileges
of Roman citizens to all the Gauls beyond the Po, and,
as pontifex maximus, filled up the vacancies of the sa¬
cerdotal colleges Avith his oavu friends. Though it was
expected that he would have absolutely cancelled all
debts contracted since the beginning of the troubles he
only reduced the interest to one-fourth. But the chief
use he made of his dictatorship Avas to preside at the
election of consuls for the next year, when he got him¬
self, and Servilius Isauricus, one of his most zealous
partisans, promoted to that dignity.
And uoav being resolved to follow Pompey, and carry Follows
the war into the east, he set out for Brundusium, whi- Pompey
ther he had ordered 12 legions to repair with all pos- *nt0 die
sible expedition. But on his arrival he found only five east*
there. The rest, beingafraid of the dangers of the sea,
and unwilling to engage in a new war, had marched
leisurely, complaining of their general for allowing them
no respite.but hurryingthem continually from onecoun-
try to another. However, Caesar did not Avait for them,
but set sail with only five legions and 600 horse in
the beginning of January. While the rest were waiting
at Brundusium for ships to transport them over into
Epirus, Caesar arrived safe Avith his five legions in Cliao-
nia, the northern part of Epirus, near the Ceraunian
mountains. There he landed his troops, and sent the
ships back to Brundusium to bring over the legions that
were left behind. The Avar he Avas now entering upon
was the most difficult he had yet undertaken. Pompey
had for a whole year been assembling troops from ail
the eastern countries. When he left Italy, he had only
five legions; but since his arrival at Dyrrhachium he
had been reinforced with one from Sicily, another from
Crete, and two from Syria. Three thousand archers,
six cohorts of slingers, and seven thousand horse, h d
been sent him by princes in alliance with Rome. All
the free cities of Asia had reinforced his army with
their best troops; nay, if avc give credit to an historical
poet, succours were brought him from the Indus and.
the Ganges to the east, and from Arabia and Ethiopia
to the south; at least it is certain, that Greece, A sia
Minor, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and all the nations from
the Mediterranean to the Euphrates, took up arms in
his favour. He had almost all the Roman knights,
Y that,
R O M [ 170 ] R 0 M
Rome, that is, the flower of’ the young nobility, in his squa-
(Irons,and his legions consisted mostly of veterans inured
to dangers and the toils of war. Pompey himself
was a general of great ecrperienre and address; and had
under him some of the best Commanders of the republic,
who had formerly conducted armies themselves. As
for his navy, he had above 500 ships of war, besides a
far greater number of small vessels, which were conti¬
nually cruising on the coasts,and intercepted such ships
as carried arms or provisions to the enemy. He had
likewise with him above 200 senators, who formed a
more numerous senate than that at Rome. Cornelius
Lentulus and Claudius Marcellus, the last year’s con¬
suls, presided in it; but under the direction of Pompey
their protector, Avho ordered them to assemble at Thes-
salonica, where he built a stately hall for that purpose.
There, in one of their assemblies, at the motion of Ca¬
to, it was decreed, that no Roman citizen should be
put to death but in battle, and that no city subject to
the republic should be sacked. At the same time the
conscript fathers assembled atThessalonica decreed,that
they alone represented the Roman senate, and that those
who resided at Rome were encouragers of tyranny, and
friends to the tyrant. And indeed, as the flower of the
nobility was with Pompey, and the most virtuous men
in the republic had taken refuge in his camp, he was
generally looked upon as the only hope and support of
the public liberty. Hence many persons of eminent
probity, who had hitherto stood neuter, flocked to him
from all parts. Among these were young Brutus, who
afterwards conspired against Caesar, Tidius Sextius, and
Labienus. Brutus, whose father had been put to death
in Galatia by Pompey’s order, had never spoken to
him, or so much as saluted him since that time: but
as he now looked upon him as the defender of the pub¬
lic liberty, he joined him, sacrificing therein his private
resentment to the interest of the public. Pompey re¬
ceived him with great joy, and was willing to confer
upon him some command; but he declined the offer.
Tidius Sextius, though extremely old and lame, yet
left Rome, and went as far as Macedonia to join Pom¬
pey there. Labienus likewise forsook his old benefac¬
tor, under whom he had served during the whole course
of the Gaulish war, and went over to his rival, though
Caesar had appointed him commander in chief of all the
forces on the other side the Alps. In short, Pompey’s
party grew into such reputation, that his cause was ge¬
nerally called the good cause, while Caesar’s adherents
were looked upon as enemies to their country, and
293 abettors of tyranny.
Makes l)r°- As soon as Caesar landed, he marched directly to Ort-
acccmmo- cu™’the nea5'est city ]n Epirus, which was taken with-
dation, out. opposition. The like success attended him at Apol-
V' inch are Ionia, which w'as in no condition to stand a siege ; and
njtcted. these two conquests opened a way to Dyrrhachium,
where Pompey had his magazines of arms andprovisions.
This success, however, was interrupted by the news
that the fleet which he had sent back to Brundusium to
transport the rest of his troops had bean attacked by Bi-
bulus, one of Pompey’s admirals, who had taken SO,
and inhumanly burnt them with the seamen on board.
This gave Caesar great uneasiness, especially as he heard
that Bibulas, with 110 ships of war, had taken posses¬
sion of all the harbours between Salonium and Oricum;
su that the legions at Prvmtlusium could not venture to
cross the sea without great danger of falling into the Borne-
enemy’s hands. By tins Caesar was so much embarras-
sed,.that he made proposals of accommodation upon ve¬
ry moderate terms ; being no other than that both Pom¬
pey and he should disband their armies within three
days, renew their former friendship with solemn oaths,
and return together to Italy. These proposals were
sent by Vibullius Rufus, an intimate friend of Pompey,
whom Caesar had twice taken prisoner. Pompey, how¬
ever, probably elated with his late good fortune, an¬
swered that lie would not hearken to any terms lest it
should be said that he owed his life and return to Italy
to Caesar’s favour. However, the latter again sent one
Vatinius to confer with Pompey about a treaty of peace.
Labienus was appointed to receive the proposals; but
while they were conferring together, a party of Pom¬
pey’s men coming up to them, discharged their darts i t
Vatinius and those who attended him. Some of the
guards were wounded, and Vatinius narrowly escaped
with his life.
In the mean time Caesar advanced towards Dyrrha¬
chium, in hopes of surprising that important place; but
Pompey unexpectedly appearing, be halted on the other-
side of the river Aphis, where he intrenched himself, as
having but a small number of troops in comparison of
the formidable army which attended Pompey. The lat¬
ter, however, not withstand ng his superiority, durst not
cross the river in Caesar’s sight; so that the two armies
continued for some time quiet in their respective camps.
Caesar wrote letter after letter to Marc Antony, who
commanded the legions he had left in Italy, to come to
his assistance; but receiving no answer, Caesar disguised
himself in the habit of a slave, and with all imaginable
secrecy went on board a fisherman’s bark, with a. design
to go over to Brundusium, though the enemy’s fleet
was cruising on the coasts both of Greece and Italy.
rI his design, however, miscarried, by reason of the beat
being put back by contrary winds; and thus Caesar was
restored to his soldiers, who had been very uneasy at his
absence. He was no sooner landed than he dispatched
Posthumius, one of his lieutenants, with most pressing
orders to Marc Antony, Gabinius, and Calenus, to
bring the troops to him at all adventures. Gabinius,
unwilling to expose all the hopes of his general to the
hazards of the sea, thought it safer to march a great
w-ay about by Illyricum, and therefore engaged ail the
legionaries he could to follow him by land. But the
Illyrians, who had, unknown to him, declared for Pom¬
pey, fell unexpectedly upon him and killed him and his
men, not one escaping. Marc Antony and Calenus,.
who went by sea, were in the greatest danger from one .
of Pompey’s admirals ; but had the good luck to bring
their troops safe to shore at Nyphaeum, in the neigh¬
bourhood of Apollonia. As soon as it was known that
Antony was landed, Pompey marched to prevent his
joining Caesar. On the other hand, Caesar instantly de¬
camped, and hastening to the relief of his lieutenant,
joined him before Pompey came up. Then Pompey,
not caring to engage them when united, retired to an
advantageous post in the neighbourhood of Dyrrhachi-
um, known by the name of Asparagium, and there en¬
camped. Caesar having thus at length got all his troops
together, resolved to finish the war by one general ac¬
tion, and determine the fate of the world, either by his
own death or by that of his r.val. To this end lie of¬
fered
II 0 11 [ 1?
m ' j feretl Po.Yipey battle, ami kept his army a great while
^ " drawn up in sight of the enemy. But Pompey declin¬
ing an enga^em nt, lie de amped, and turned towards
• Dyrrhachium, as if he designed to surpiise it, hoping
by this means to draw Pompey into the plain. But
Pompey, looking upon the taking of Dyrrhachium as a
chimerical project followed Caesar ats-me distance, and
letting him draw near to the city, encamped on a hill
called Pcira, which commanded the sea, whence he
could be supplied with provisions from Greece and Asia
while Caesar was forced to bring corn by land from
Epirus, at a vast expence, and through many dangers.
This inconvenience put Caesar upon a new design,
which was to surround an army far more numerous than
his own, and, by shutting them up within a narrow
» tract of ground, distress them as much for want of fo-
WL lges rage as his troops were distressed for want of corn. Pur-
|l' pey in suant to this design, he drew a line of circumvallation
lli camp, from the sea quite round Pompey’s camp, and kept him
so closely blocked up, that though his men were plenti¬
fully supplied with provisions by sea, yet the horses
of his army began soon to die in great numbers for
want of forage. Caesar’s men, though in the utmost
distress for want of corn, yet bore all with incredible
cheerfulness ; protesting that they would rather live
upon the bark of trees than suffer Pompey to escape,
now they had him in their power. Caesar tells us, that
in this extremity such of the army as had been in Sar¬
dinia found out the way of making bread of a certain
herb called deer a, which they steeped in milk; and that
when the enemy insulted them on account of tire star¬
ving condition which they were in, they threw several
of these loaves among them, to put them out of ail
hopes of subduing them by f mine. “ So long as the
earth produces such roots (said they), we will not let
Pompey escape.” At length Pompey, alarmed at the
distempers which began to prevail in his army, made se¬
veral attempts to break through the barriers that inclo¬
sed him, but was always repulsed with loss. At length,
being reduced to the utmost extremity for want of fo¬
rage, he resolved at all events to force the enemy’s lines
and escape. With the assistance, therefore, and bv the
advice of two deserters, he embarked his archers, sling-
| ^ ers, and lighr-armed infantry, and marching himself by
Ij. ^ land at the head of60 cohort', went to attack tout part
it Some ’s h'nes which was next to the sea, and not yet
Pf's posts. T^te finished. He set out from his camp in the dead
of the night, and arriving at the post he designed to
force by break of day, he began the attack by sea artel
land at the same time. The ninth legion, which de¬
fended that p =rt of the lines, made for some time a vi¬
gorous resistance; but being attacked in the rear by
Pompey’s men, who came by sea, and landed between
Caesar’s two lines, they fled with such precipitation, that
the succours Marcellinussent them from a neighbouring
post could not stop them. The ensign who carried the
eagle at the head of the routed legion was mortally
"wounded ; but nevertheless, before he died, had pre¬
sence of mind enough to consign the eagle to the caval¬
ry of the party, desiring them to deliver it to Ca?sar,
Pompey’s men pursued the fugitives, and made such a
slaughter of them, that all the centurions of the first co¬
hort were cut off except one. And now Pompey’s army
broke in like a torrent upon the posts Caesar had forti¬
fied, and were advancing to attack Marcellinus, who
1 ] It 0 M
guarded a neighbouring fort; but Marc Antofiy coining Ihrns.
very seasonably to his relief with 12 cohorts, they
thought it advisable to retire.
Soon after Caesar himself arrived with a strong reiir- Cassar de¬
forcement, and posted himself on the shore, in order to feated and
prevent such attempts for the future. From this po5t iT1 £reat
he observed an old camp which he. had made within the
place where Pom pey was inclosed, but afterwards aban¬
doned. Upon his quitting ir, Pompey had taken pos¬
session of it, and left a legion to guard it. This post
(hesar resolved to reduce, hoping to repair the loss he
had sustained on this unfortunate day, by taking the le¬
gion which Pompey had posted there. Accordingly,
he advanced secretly at the head of 33 cohorts in two
lines : and arriving at the old camp before Pompey
could have notice of his march, attacked it with great
vigour, forced the first intrenchment, notwithstanding
the brave resistance of Titus Pulcio, and penetrated to
the second, whither the legion had retired. But here
his fortune changed on a sudden. His right wing, in
looking for an entrance into the camp, marched along
the outside of a trench which Caesir had formerly car¬
ried on from the left angle of his camp, about 400 paces,
to a neighbouring river. This trench they mistook for
toe rampart of the camp ; and being led away by that
mist ke from their lett wing, they were soon after pre¬
vented from rejoining it by the arrival of Pompey, who
came up at the head of a legion and a large body of
horse. Then the legion which Caesar had attacked ta¬
king courage, made a brisk sally, drove his men back
to the first intrenchment which they had seized, and
there put them in great disorder while they were at¬
tempting to pass the ditch. Pompey, in the mean time,
fi! ing upon them with his cavalry in flank, completed
their defeat; and then flying to the enemy’s right wing,
which had passed the trench mentioned above, and was
shut up between that and the ramparts of the old camp,
made a most dreadful slaughter of them. The trench
was filled with dead bodies, many falling into it in that
disorder, and others passing over them and pressing them
to death.
In this distress, Caesar did all he could to stop the
flight of his legionaries, but to no purpose; the stand¬
ard-bearers themselves threw down the Homan eagles
when Cse-ar endeavoured to stop them, and left them in
the hands of the enemy, who on this occasion took 32
standards ; a disgrace which Caesar had never suffered
before. He was himself in no small danger of falling
by the hand of one of his own men, whom he took hold
of when flying, bidding him stand and face about; but
the man, apprehensive of the danger he was in, drew
his sword, and would have killed him, had not one of
his guards prevented the blow by cutting off his arm.
Caesar lost on this occasion ()60 of his foot, 400 of his
horse, 5 tribunes, and 32 centurions. 207
This loss and disgrace greatly mortified Caesar, but Be retrieves
did not discourage him. After he had by his lenity ”is
and eloquent speeches recovered the spirit of his troops,
he decamped, and retired in good order to Apollonia,
where he paid the army, and left his sick and wounded.
From thence he marched into Macedou, where Scipio
Metellus, Pompey’s father-in-law, was encamped. He
hoped either to draw his rival into some plain, or to
overpower Scipio if not assisted. He met with great
difficulties on his march, the countries through which
1 « he
I
It O M [ 172 ] It O M
Home. }ie passed refusing to supply his army with provisions;
v—to such a degree was his reputation sunk since his last
defeat! On his entering Thessaly he was met by Do-
mitius, one of his lieutenants, whom he had sent with
three legions to reduce Epirus. Having now got all
his force together, he marched directly to Gomphi,
the first town of Thessaly, which had been formerly in
his interest, but now declared against him. Whereup¬
on he attacked it with so much vigour, that though
the garrison was very numerous, and the walls were of
an uncommon height, he made himself master of it in a
few hours. From hence he marched to Metropolis, ano¬
ther considerable town of Thessaly, which immediate¬
ly surrendered ; as did all the other cities of the coun¬
try, except Larissa, of which Scipio had made himself
master.
On the other hand, Pompey being continually im¬
portuned by the senators and officers of his army, left
his camp at Dyrrhachium, and followed Csesar, firmly
resolved not to give him battle, but rather to distress
him by keeping close at his heels, straitening his quar¬
ters, and cutting off his convoys. As he had frequent
opportunities of coming to an engagement, but always
declined it, his friends and subalterns began to put ill
203 constructions on his dilatoriness to his face.
Pompey These, together with the complaints of his soldiers,
resolves to made him at length resolve to venture a general action,
come to With this design he marched into a large plain near the
ment.8^" ckies of Phai’salia and Thebes ; which latter was also
called Philippa, from Philip king of Macedon, and the
father of Perses, who, having reduced the Thebans,
placed a colony of Macedonians in their city. This
plain was watered by the Enipeus, and surrounded on
all sides by high mountains ; and Pompey, who was
still averse from venturing an engagement, pitched his
camp on the declivity of a steep mountain, in a place
altogether inaccessible. There he was joined by Scipio
his father-in-law, at the head of the legions which he
had brought with him from Syria and Cilicia. But
notwithstanding, this reinforcement, he continued irre ¬
solute, and unwilling to put all to the issue of a single
action • being still convinced of the wisdom of his
maxim, that it was better to destroy the enemy by fa¬
tigues and want, than to engage an army of brave vete¬
rans, who were in a manner reduced to despair. As he
put off from day to day, under various pretences, des¬
cending into the plain where Caesar was encamped, his
officers forced him to call a council of war, when all to
a man were for venturing a general action the very
next dajr. Thus was Pompey obliged to sacrifice his
own judgment to the blind ardour of the multitude;
and the necessary measures were taken for a general
209 engagement.
Is totally The event of this battle was in the highest degree
defeated. fortunate for Caesar * ; who resolved to pursue his ad-
vantage, and follow Pompey to whatever country he
should retire. Hearing, therefore, of his being at Am-
phipolis, he sent off his troops before him, and then em¬
barked on board a little frigate in order to cross the
Hellespont; but in the middle of the strait, he fell in
with one of Pompey's commanders, at the head often
ships of war. Caesar, no way terrified at the superiority
of his force, bore up to him, and commanded him to
submit. The other inst-ntly obeyed, awed by the ter¬
ror of Caesar’s name, and surrendered himself and his Roiw-
fleet at discretion.
From thence he continued his voyage to Ephesus,
then to Rhodes; and being informed that Pompey had
been there before him, he made no doubt but that he
was fled to Egypt; wherefore, losing no time, he set
sail for that kingdom, and arrived at Alexandria with
about 4000 men ; a very inconsiderable force to keep
such a powerful kingdom under subjection. But he
whs now grown so secure in his good fortune, that he
expected to find obedience everywhere. Upon his land¬
ing, the first accounts he received were of Pompey’s
miserable end, who had been assassinated by orders of
the treacherous king as soon as he went on shore; and 21o
soon after one of the murderers came with his head and
ring as a most grateful present to the conqueror. But111
Caesar turned away from it with horror, and shortly af¬
ter ordered a magnificent tomb to be built to his me¬
mory on the spot where he was murdered ; and a tem¬
ple near the place, to Nemesis, who was the goddess
that punished those that were cruel to men in adver¬
sity.
It should seem that the Egyptians by this time had
some hopes of breaking off all alliance with the Ro¬
mans ; which they considered, as in fact it was, but a
specious subjection. They first began to take offence
at Caesar’s carrying the ensigns of Roman power before
him as he entered the city. Photinus, the eunuch, also
treated him with disrespect, and even attempted his life. 211
Caesar, however, concealed his resentment till he had The Egy
a force sufficient to punish his treachery ; and sending t!ans ^
privately for the legions which had been formerly en-
rolled for Pompey’s service, as being the nearest to
Egypt, he in the mean time pretended to repose an en¬
tire confidence in the king’s minister. However, he
soon changed his manner when he found himself in no
danger from his attempts : and declared, that, as being
a Roman consul, it was his duty to settle the succession
to the Egyptian crown.
There were at that time two pretenders to the crown
of Egypt: Ptolemy, the acknowledged king ; and the
celebrated Cleopatra his sister ; who, by the custom of
the country, was also his wife, and, by their father’s
will, shared jointly in the succession. However, not be¬
ing contented with a bare participation of power, she
aimed at governing alone ; but being opposed in her
views by the Roman senate, who confirmed herbrother’s
title to the crown, she was banished into Syria with Ar-
sinoe her younger sister.
Caesar, however, gave her new hopes of obtaining
the kingdom, and sent both for her and her brother to
plead their cause before him. Photinus, the young
king’s guardian, who had long borne the most invete¬
rate hatred as well to Caesar as to Cleopatra, disdained
this propos ;1, and backed his refusal by sending an army 212
of 20,000 men to besiege him in Alexandria. Caesar a^'les'|
bravely repulsed the enemy for some time ; but finding
the city of too great extent to be defended by so small
an army as he then had with him, he retired to the pa¬
lace, which commanded the harbour, where Ire purpo¬
sed to make a stand. Achillas, who commanded the
Egyptians, attacked him there with great vigour, and
still aimed at making himself master of the fleet that lay
before the palace. Caesar, however, too well knew the
importance
11 0 M
[ 1
73
1
E O M
iome.
importance of those ships in the hands of an enemy; and
^ therefore burnt them all in spite of every effort to pre¬
vent it. He next possessed himself of the isle of Pharos,
which was the key to the Alexandrian port, by which
he was enabled to receive the supplies sent him from all
sides ; and in this situation he determined to withstand
the united force of all the Egyptians.
In the mean time, Cleopatra having heard of the pre¬
sent turn in her favour, resolved to depend rather on
Caesar’s favour for gaining the government than her
own forces. She had, in fact, assembled an army in
Syria to support her claims; but now judged it the
wisest way to rely entirely on the decision of her self-
elected judge. But no arts, as she justly conceived,
were so likely to influence Caesar, as the charms of her
person. The difficulty was how to get at Caesar, as her
enemies were in possession of all the avenues that led to
the palace. For this purpose, she went on board a small
vessel, and in the evening landed near the palace; where,
being wrapped up in a coverlet, she was carried by one
Aspolodorus into the very chamber of Caesar. Her ad¬
dress at first pleased him ; but her caresses, which were
carried beyond the bounds of innocence, entirely brought
him over to second her claims.
While Cleopatra was thus employed in forwarding
her own vieAvs, her sister Arsinoe was also strenuously en¬
gaged in the camp in pursuing a separate interest. She
had found means, by the assistance of one Ganymede
her confidant, to make a large division in the Egyptian
army in her favour; and soon after caused Achillas to
be murdered, and Ganymede to take the command in
his stead, and to carry on the siege with greater vigour
than before. Ganymede’s principal effort was by let¬
ting in the sea upon those canals which supplied the pa¬
lace with fresh water; but this inconvenience Caesar re¬
medied by digging a great number of wells. His next
endeavour was to prevent the junction of Caesar’s 24th
legion, which he twice attempted in vain. He soon
after made himself master of a bridge which joined the
isle of Pharos to the continent, from which post Caesar
was resolved to dislodge them. In the heat of action,
some mariners came and joined the combatants; but be¬
ing seized with a panic, instantly fled, and spread a ge¬
neral terror through the army. All Caesar’s endeavours
to rally his forces were in vain, the confusion was past
remedy, and numbers were drowned or put to the
sword in attempting to escape; on which, seeing the ir¬
remediable disorder of his troops, he retired to a ship
in order to get to the palace that was just opposite.
However, he was no sooner on board than great crowds
entered at the same time with him ; upon which, appre¬
hensive of the ship’s sinking, he jumped into the sea,
and s’wam 200 paces to the fleet that lay before the pa¬
lace.
The Alexandrians, finding their efforts to take the
palace ineffectual, endeavoured at least to get their king
out of Caesar’s power, as he had seized upon his person
in the beginning of their disputes. For this purpose
they made use of their customary arts of dissimulation,
professing the utmost desire of peace, and only wanting
the presence of their lawful prince to give a sanction to
the treaty. Caesar, -who was sensible of their perfidy,
nevertheless concealed his suspicions, and gave them their
king, as he was under no apprehensions from the abili¬
ties of a boy. Ptolemy, however, the instant he was
set at liberty, instead of promoting peace, made every Kownr,
effort to give vigour to hostilities.
In this manner Caesar was hemmed in for some time :
but he was at last relieved from this mortifying situa¬
tion by Mithridates Pergamenus, one of his most faith¬
ful partizans; who, collecting a numerous army in Sy¬
ria, marched into Egypt, took the city of Pelusium, re¬
pulsed the Egyptian army with loss, and at last, joining
with Caesar, attacked their camp, and made a great
slaughter of the Egyptians. Ptolemy himself, attempt¬
ing to escape on board a vessel that wras sailing down
the river, was drowned by the ship’s sinking ; and Cae¬
sar thus became master of all Egypt without any further
opposition. He therefore appointed that Cleopatra,
with her younger brother, who was then but an infant,
should jointly govern, according to the intent of their
father’s w’ill; and drove out Arsinoe with Ganymede
into banishment.
Caesar now for a while seemed to relax from the usual
activity of his conduct, captivated with the charms of
Cleopatra. Instead of quitting Egypt to go and quell
the remains of Pompey’s party, he abandoned himself
to liis pleasui’es, passing whole nights in feasts with the
young queen. He even resolved to attend her up the
Nile into Ethiopia ; but the brave veterans, who had
long followed his fortune, boldly reprehended his con¬
duct, and refused to be partners in so infamous an expe¬
dition. Thus, at length, roused from his lethargy, he
left Cleopatra, by whom he had a son who was after¬
wards named Ccesario, in order to oppose Pharnaces the
king of Pontus, who had now made some inroads upon
the dominions of Rome. Here he was attended with the
greatest success, as we have related under the article
Pontus ; and having settled affairs in this part of the ^ (
empire, as well as time would permit, he embarked for Arrives in
Italy, where he arrived sooner than his enemies could Italy, and
expect, but not before his affairs there absolutely re- s°on after
quired his pr esence. He had been, during h:s absence, undertakes
created consul for five years, dictator for one year, and tion huo1"
tribune of the people for life. But Antony, who in the Africa,
mean time governed in Rome for him, had filled the ci¬
ty with riot and debauchery, and many commotions en¬
sued, which nothing but the arrival of Caesar could ap¬
pease. However, by his moderation and humanity, he
soon restored tranquillity to the city, scarce making any
distinction between those of his own and the opposite
party. Thus having, by gentle means, restored his au¬
thority at home, he prepared to march into Africa,
where Pompey’s party had found time to rally under
Scipio and Cato, assisted by Juba king of Mauritania.
But the vigour of his proceedings had like to have been
retarded by a mutin}^ in his own army. Those veteran
legions, who had hitherto conquered all that came be¬
fore them, began to murmur for not having received
the rewards which they had expected for their past ser¬
vices, and now insisted upon their discharge. However,
Caesar found means to quell the mutiny ; and then, ac¬
cording to h’s usual diligence, landed with a small party-
in Africa, the rest of the army following soon after.
After many movements and skirmishes, lie resolved at
last to come to a decisive battle. For this purpose he
invested the city of Thapsus, supposing that Scipio would
attempt its relief, which turned out according to his
expectations. Scipio, joining with the young king of
Mauritania, advanced with his army, and encamping
near
It O M
[ 174 ]
It O M
JioR:e.
partisans of
Pompey
21(5
Cato kills
himself.
near Caesar, they soon came to a general battle. Cae-
sar’s succevs was as usual; tlte enemy received a com-
215 , plete and fin d overthrow, with little loss on his side.
Defeats the jui0 an(j Petreius his general, killed each other in de-
partisans ci . 0 . . .
spar-; Scipio, attempmg to escape by sea into Spain,
fell in among the enemy, and was slain ; so that of all
the generals of that undone party, Cato was now alooe
remaining.
This extraordinary man, having retired into Africa
after the battle of Pharsalia, had led the wretched
remains of that defeat through burning deserts and
tracts infested with serpents of various malignity, ard
was now in the city of Utica, which he had been left
to defend. Stdl, however, in love with even the show
of Roman government, he had formed the p ineipal
citizens into a senate, and conceived a resolution of
holding out the town. He accordingly assembled his
senators upon this occasion, and exhorted them to stand
a siege; but finding his admonitions ineffectual, he
* See Cato, stabbed himself with his sword *. Upon his death, the
war in Africa being completed, Catsar returned in tri¬
umph to Rome; and, as if he had abridged all his for¬
mer triumphs only to increase the splendour of this, the
citizens were astonished at the magnificence of the pro¬
cession, and the number of the countries he hadsubdued.
It la-ted four days : the first was for Gaul, the second
for Egypt, the third for his victories in Asia, and the
fourth for that over Juba in Africa. To every one of
his soldiers he gave a sum equivalent to about 1501. of
our money, double that sum to the centurions, and four
times as much to the superior officers The citizens
also shaiv d hi - bounty ; to every one of whom he distri¬
buted 10 bushels of corn, 10 pounds of oil, and a sum
of money equal to about two pounds sterling of ours.
II e, af er this, entertained the people at about 20,000
tables, treated them with the combat of gladiators, and
filled Rome with a concourse of spectators from every
part or Italy.
The people now seemed eager only to find out new
.ed it'd up modi s of homage and unusual methods of adulation for
ZTat their great enslaver. He was created, by a new title,
Magister Morum, or Master of the Morals of the Peo¬
ple; he received the title of Emperor, Father of his
countn/ ; bis person was declared sacred ; and, in short,
upon him alone were devol ved for life a!l the great dig¬
nities of the state It must be owned, however, that no
sovereign could make better use of his power. He
immediately began his empire by repressing vice and
encouraging virtue. He communicated the power of
judicata e to the senators and the knights alone, and by
many sumptuary laws restrained the scandalous lux¬
uries of the rich. He proposed rewards to all such as
had many chihuen 1 and took t! e most prudent me¬
thods of repeopling the city, that had been exhaustedin
the late commotions; and besides his other works he
greatly reformed the kalendar.
Having thus restored prosperity once more to Rome
he again found himself under a necessity of going into
Spain, to oppose an army which had been raided there
under the two sons of Pompey, and Labienns his former
general. He proceeded in this expedition with his usual
cele. ity, and arrived in Spain before the enemy thought
him yet departed from Rome. Cneius and Sextus, Ponr-
pty s sons, profiting by their unhappy father’s example,
resolved as much a? possible to protract the war ; ?o tint
217
Honours
the first operations of the twoannies were spent In sieges
and fruitless attempts to surprise each other At length
Caesar, after taking many cities from the enemy, and
pursuing young Pompey with unwearied perseverance,
compelled him to come to a battle upon the plains of
Mur da.
After a most obstinate engagement, Caesar gained a „ 218
complete victory ( see Mux da ) ; anti having now sub-
dueci yll ins enemies, he returned to Rome for the last the whole
time to teceive new dignities and honours, and to enjoy empire by
an accumulation of all the great offices of the state. his
Still, however, he pretended to a moderation in the en- at Mun<**<
joyment of his power ; he left the consuls to he named
by the people; but as he possessed all the authority of
the office, it from this time began to sink into contempt.
He enla ged the number of senators also; but as he had
previously destroyed their power, theirnew honours were
but empty titles. He took care to pardon all who had
been in arms against him, but not till he had deprived
them of the power of resi-tance. He even set up once
more the statues of Pompey ; which, however, as Ci¬
cero observed, he only did to secure his own. The rest
of this extraordinary man’s life was employed for the
advantage of the state. He adorned the city with mag-
nificentbuildings; herehuilt Carthage and Corinth,send¬
ing colonies to both cities; he undertook to level seve¬
ral mountains in Italy, to drain the Pontinemarshes near
Rome, and designed to cut through the Isthmus of Pe¬
loponnesus. I hus he formed mighty projects and de- 219
signs beyond thelimits of the longest life ; but thegreat- His vast
est of all was his intended expedition against the Partin- designs,
ans, by which he designed to revenge the dea^ of Gras¬
ses ; then to pass through Hyicania, and enter Scythia
along the banks of the Caspian sea; from thence to
open himself a w :y through the immeasur, b!e forests of
Germany into Gaul, and so return to Rome. These
were the aims of ambition : but the jealousy of a few
individuals put an end to them all.
I he sen; te, with an adulation which marked the de¬
generacy of the times, continued to load Caesar with
fresh honours, andhe continued with equal vanity to re¬
ceive them, i hey called one of the months of the year
after his name ; they stamped money with his image ;
they ordered his statue to be set up in &11 the cities of
the empire ; they instituted pub icsac rifices on his birth¬
day ; and talked, even his liie-iime, oi enrolling him in
the number ot their gods. Antony, at one ot then pub¬
lic festivals, too ishly ventured to offer him a diadem ;
but he put it back again, refusing it several times, anti
leceiving at every refusal loud acclamations from the
people. One day, when the senate ordered him some
particular honours, he neglected to rise from his seat;
and from that moment is said to have been marked for
destruction. It began to be rumoured that he intended
to make himself king ; for though in fact he a ready
was so, the people, wdio had an utter aversion to the
name, could not bear his assuming the tule. Whether
he really desigt ed to assume that empty honour must
n< >v for ever,remain a secret ; hut certain it is, that the
unsuspecting openness of his conduct marked ,-omething
hke a confidence in the innocence of his intention”
H hen informed by those about him of the je dous:es of
many persons who envied his power, he was heard to
eay, 1 hat he had rather die once by treason, th in to
live conanually in the apprehension of it: and to con¬
vince
ome.
t
220
/ 1I1SJU-
T torm-
£ gainst
221
I is raur-
d.
II O M
vlnce the world how little he had to apprehend from his
enemies, lie disbanded his company of Spanish guards,
which facilitated the enterprise against his life
A deep-laid conspiracy was formed against him, com¬
posed of no less than 60 senators. At the head of this
conspiracy was Brutus, whose life Cavsar had spared af¬
ter the battle of Pharsalia, and Cassius, who had been
pardoned soon after, both praetors for the present- year.
Brutus made it his^ chief glory to have been descended
from that Brutus who first gave liberty to Rome ; and
from a desire of following his example, broke all the
ties of private friendship, and entered into a conspiracy
which was to destroy his benefactor. Cassius, on the
other hand, was impetuous and proud, and hated Caesar’s
person still more than his cause. He had often sought
an opportunity of gratifying his revenge by assassina¬
tion, which took rise rather from private than public
motives.
The conspirators, to give a colour of justice to their
proceedings, remitted the execution of this design to
the ides of March, the day on which it was reported
that Caesar was to be offered the crown. The augurs
had foretold that tins day would be fatal to him; and
the night preceding, he heard his wife Calphurnia la¬
menting in her sleep, and being awakened, she confessed
to him that she dreamt of his being assassinated in her
arms. These omens, in some measure, began to change
his intentions of going to the senate, as he had resolved,
that day ; but one of the conspirators coming in, pre¬
vailed upon him to keep his resolution, telling him of
the reproach which would attend his staying at home
till his wife had lucky dreams, and of the preparations
that were made for his appearance. As he went along
to the senate, a slave, who hastened to him with infor¬
mation of the conspiracy, attempted to come near him,
but could not for the crowd. Artemidorus, a Greek
philosopher, who had discovered thewhole plot, deliver¬
ed to him a memorial, containing the heads of his in¬
formation ; but Caesar gave it, with other papers, to one
of his secretaries without reading, as was usual in things
of this nature. As soon as he had taken his place in
the senate, the conspirators came near him, under a pre¬
tence of saluting him; and Cirnber, who was one of
them, approached in a suppliant posture, pretending to
sue for his brother’s pardon, who was banished by bis
order. All the conspirators seconded him with great
tenderness; and Cimber, seeming to sue with still great¬
er submission, took hold of the bottom of his robe, hold¬
ing him so as to prevent his rising. This was the sig¬
nal agreed on. Casca, who was behind, stabbed him,
though slightly, in the shoulder. Caesar instantly turn¬
ed round, and with the style of his tablet wounded him
in the arm. However, all the conspirators were now
alarmed ; and inclosing him round, he received a second
stab from an unknown hand in the breast, while Cassius
wounded him in the face. He still defended himself
with great vigour, rushing among them, and throwing
down such as opposed him, till he saw Brutus among
the conspirators, who, coming up, struck his dagger in
his thigh. F rom that moment Caesar thought no more
of defending himself, but looking upon this conspirator,
cried out, “ And you too, Brutus !” Then covering his
head, and spreading his robe before him in order to fall
with greater decency, he sunk down at the base of Pom,
[ 175 ]
E 0 M
Pey s statue, afier receiving three-and-twenty wounds, Rorre.
in tne .Oiith yeir of his age, and 4th of his reign. w-y-^
**•s soon as the conspirators had dispatched Caesar, 222
they began to address themselves to the senate, in order Grcat c™-
to vindicate the motives of their enterprise, and to ex- *us’on. <?cc
cite them to join in procuring their country’s freedom, hisdeath.
but all the senators who were not accomplices fled with
su.cn precipitation, that the lives of some of them were
endangered in the throng. The people also being now-
alarmed, left their usual occupations, and ran tumultu¬
ously through the city ; some actuated by their fears,
and still more by a desire of plunder. In this state of
confusion, the conspirators all retired to the capitol, and
guarded its accesses by a body of gladiators which Bru¬
tus had in pay. It was in vain the}r alleged they only
struck for freedom, and that they killed a tyrant who
usurped the rights of mankind: the people, accustomed
to luxury and ease, little regarded their professions, dread¬
ing more the dangers of poverty than of subjection.
The friends of the late dictator now began to find
that this was the time for coming into greater power
than before, and for satisfying their ambition under the
veil of promoting justice. Of this number was Antony,
whom we have already seen acting as a lieutenant under
Caesar. He was a man of moderate abilities and ex¬
cessive vices ; ambitious of pow er, but skilled in war, to
which he had been trained from bis youth. He was
consul for this year; and resolved, with Lepidus, who
w as fond of ec• amotions like himself, to seize this oppor¬
tunity of assuming the sovereign power. Lepidus, there¬
fore, took possession of the forum w ith a band of soldiers
at his devotion; and Antony, being consul, was per¬
mitted to command them. Their first step was to pos¬
sess themselves of all Caesar’s papers and money; and
the next to convene the senate, in order to determine
whether Caesar had been a legal magistrate or a tyran¬
nical usurper, and whether those who killed him merit¬
ed rewards or punishments. There were many of these
who had received their promotions from Caesar, and had Th/con-
acquired large fortunes in consequence of his appoint- spirators"
ments : to vote him an usurper, therefore, would be to pardoned
endanger their property ; and yet to vote him innocent, ^ the
might endanger the state. In this dilemma they seemed seIiatei
willing to reconcile extremes; wherefore they approved
all the acts of Caesar, and yet granted a general pardon
to all the conspirators.
This decree was very far from giving Antony satis¬
faction, as it granted security to a number of men who
were the avowed enemies of tyranny, and who would
be foremost in opposing his schemes of restoring abso¬
lute power. As therefore the senate had ratified all
Caesar s acts without distinction, he formed a scheme
upon this of making him rule when dead as imperious¬
ly as he had done when living. Being, as was said,
possessed of Cesar’s books of accounts, he so far gained
upon his secret ry as to make him insert wdiatever he
thought proper. By these means, great sums of money,
which Caesar never would have bestowed, were here di¬
stributed among the people ; and every man who was
averse to republican principles was here sure of finding
a gratuity. He then demanded that Caesar’s funeral
obsequies should be performed ; which the senate now
could not decently forbid, as they had never declared
him a tyrant. Accordingly, the body was brought
forth
■flame.
224
Antony
inflames
the peo¬
ple.
225
He endea¬
vours to er.
gross the
power en¬
tirely into
his own
hand.
It O M [ 17
forth into the forum with the utmost solemnity ; and
Antony began his operations upon the passions of the
people, by the prevailing motives of private interest.
He first read Caesar’s will, in which he had left Octa¬
vius, his sister’s grandson, his heir, permitting him to
take the name of Caesar ; and three parts of his private
fortune Brutus was to inherit in case of his death. The
Roman people were left the gardens which he had on
the other side the Tiber; and every citizen, in particu¬
lar, was to receive 800 sesterces. This last bequest not
a little contributed to increase the people’s affection for
their late dictator; they now began to consider Caesar
as a father, who, not satisfied with doing them the great¬
est good while living, thought of benefiting them even
after his death. As Antony continued reading, the
multitude began to be moved, and sighs and lamenta¬
tions were heard from every quarter. Antony, seeing
the audience favourable to his designs, now began to ad¬
dress the assembly in a more pathetic strain: he present¬
ed before them Caesar’s bloody robe, and, as he unfold¬
ed it, took care they should observe the number of stabs
in it: he then displayed an image, which to them ap¬
peared the body of Caesar, all covered with wounds.
The people could now no longer contain their indigna¬
tion ; they unanimously cried out for revenge ; all the
old soldiers who had fought under him, burnt, with his
body, their coronets, and other marks of conquest with
which he had honoured them. A great number of the
first matrons in the city threw in their ornaments also ;
till at length, rage succeeding to sorrow, the multitude
ran with flaming brands froin the pile to set fire to the
conspirators houses. In this ra’ge of resentment, meet¬
ing with one Cinna, whom they mistook for mother of
the same name who was in the conspiracy they tore
him in pieces. The conspirators themselves, however,
being well guarded, repulsed the multitude writh no
great trouble ; but perceiving the rage of tile people,
they thought it safest to retire from the city. Divine
•honours were then gr. nted him; and an altar was eject¬
ed on the place where his body was burnt, where after¬
wards was erected a column inscribed. To the father of
his country.
In the mean t'me Antony, who had excited this
flame, resolved to make the best of the occasion. Ha¬
ving gained the people by his zeal in Caesar’s cause,
he next endeavoured to bring over the senate, by a
seeming concern for the freedom of the state. He
therefore proposed to recal Sextus, Pompey’s only re¬
maining son, u ho had concealed himself in Spain since
the death of his father: and to grant him the com¬
mand of all the fleets of the empire. His next step
to their confidence, was the quelling a sedition of the
people, who rose to revenge the death of Caesar, and
putting their leader Amathus to death, who pretended
to be the son of Marius. He after this pretended to
dread the resentment of the multitude, and demanded
a guard for the security of his person. The senate
granted his request; and, under this pretext, he drew
round him a body of 6000 resolute men, attached to
his interest, and ready to execute his commands. Thus
he continued every day making rapid strides to abso¬
lute power ; all the authority of government was lodged
fn Ins hands and those of his two brothers alone, who
shared among them the consular, tribrmitian, and prae-
iofian power. His vows to revenge Caesar’s death
o ]
E O M
seemed either postponed, or totally forgotten; and his Home,
only aim seemed to be to confirm himself in that power
which he had thus artfully acquired. But an obstacle
to his ambition seemed to arise from a quarter on which
he least expected it, This was from Octavius or Oc- is opposed
tavianus Caesar, afterwards called Augustus, who was by ISctavi-
the grand-nephew and adopted son of Caesar, and was at anus*
Apollonia when his kinsman was slain. He was then
about 18 years old, and had been sent to that city to
improve himself in the study of Grecian literature. Up¬
on the news of Caesar’s death, notwithstanding the
earnest dissuasions of all his friends, he resolved to re¬
turn to Rome, to claim the inheritance, and revenge
the death of his uncle. From the former professions of
Antony, he expected to find him a warm assistant to
his aims; and he doubted not, by his concurrence, to
take signal vengeance on all who had a hand in the con¬
spiracy. However, he was greatly disappointed. An¬
tony, whose projects were all to aggrandize himself,
gave him but a very cold reception, and, instead of
granting him the fortune left him by the will, delayed
the payment of it upon various pretences, hoping to
check his ambition by limiting his circumstances. But
Octavianus, instead of abating his claims, ei^en sold his
own patrimonial estate, to pay such legacies as Caesar
had left, and particularly that to the people. By
these means he gained a degree of popularity, which
his enemies vainly laboured to diminish, and which in
fact he had many other methods to procure. His
conversation was elegant and insinuating, his face come¬
ly and graceful, and Ins affection to the late dictator
so sincere, that every person was charmed either with
his piety or his address. But what added still more
to his interest was the name of Cassar, which he had
assumed, and, in consequence of which, the former fol¬
lowers of his uncle now flocked in great numbers to
him. All these he managed with such art, that An¬
tony now began to conceive a violent jealousy for the
talents of his young opponent, and secretly laboured
to counteract all his designs. In fact, he did not want
reason ; for the army near Rome, that had long wished
to sec the conspirators punished, began to turn from
hm.1 to his rival, whom they saw more sincerely bent
on gr atifying their desires. Antony having procured
also the government of Hither Gaul from the people,
two of h.'S legions that he had brought home from
his former government of Macedonia, went over to
Octavianus, notwithstanding all his remonstrances to
eletain them. This produced, as usual, interviews, com¬
plaints, recriminations, and pretended reconciliations,
which only tended to widen the difference; so that, at
length, both sides prepare d for war. Thus the state was
divided into three distinct factions ; that of Octavianus,
who aimed at procuring Caesar’s inheritance, and re¬
venging his death ; that of Antony, whose sole view'
was to obtain absolute power ; and that of the conspi¬
rators, who endeavoured to restore the senate to its
former authority.
Antony being raised by the people to his new go¬
vernment of Cisalpine Gaul, contrary to the inclina¬
tions of the senate, resolved to enter upon his province
immediately, and oppose Brutus, who commanded a
small body of troops there, while his army was yet en¬
tire. He accordingly left Rome, and marching thi¬
ther, commanded Brutus to depart. Brutus, being
unable
ROM
I me. unable to oppose him, retired with his forces ; but
^ Y*'"** being pursued by Antony, he was at last besieged
in the city of Mutina, of which he sent word to the
senate.
In the mean while, Octavianus, who by this time
had raised a body of 10,000 men, returned to Rome ;
and being resolved, before he attempted to take ven¬
geance on the conspirators, if possible to diminish the
power of Antony, began by bringing over the senate
to second his designs. In this he succeeded b;y the
i 2T credit of Cicero, who had long hated Antony because
A ‘srout he thought him the enemy of the state. According-
be en % means his eloquence, a decree was passed, or-
nh dering Antony to raise the siege of Mutina, to eva¬
cuate Cisalpine Gaul, and to await the further orders
of the senate upon the banks of the Rubicon. An¬
tony treated the order with contempt; and instead of
obeying, began to show his displeasure at being hi¬
therto so submissive. Nothing now therefore remained
lor the senate but to declare him an enemy to the state,
and to send Octavianus, with the army he had raised, to
curb his insolence. The latter was very ready to offer
his army for this expedition, in order to revenge his
own private injuries, before he undertook those of the
public. The two consuls, Hirtius and Pansa, joined
all their forces ; and thus combined they marched at
the head of a numerous army, against Antony, into
Cisalpine Gaul. After one or two ineffectual conflicts,
both armies came to a general engagement; in which
Antony was defeated, and compelled to fly to Lepi-
dus, who commanded a body of forces in Further
Gaul. This victory, however, which promised the se¬
nate so much success, produced effects Very different
from their expectations. The two consuls were mor¬
tally wounded; but Pansa, previous to his death, called
Octavianus to his bed-side,and advised him to join with
Antony, telling him, that the senate only desired to de¬
press both, by opposing them to each other. The
advice of the dying consul sunk deep on his spirits ; so
that from that time he only sought a pretext to break
with them. Their giving the command of a party of
his army to Decimus Brutus, and their denying him
a triumph soon after, served to alienate his mind entire¬
ly from the senate, and made him resolve to join Anto¬
ny and Lepidus. Fie was willing, however, to try the
senate thoroughly, before he came to an open rupture;
wherefore he sent to demand the consulship, which was
refused him. He then thought himself obliged to keep
no measures with that assembly, but privately sent to
sound the inclinations of Antony and Lepidus, concern-
ing a junction of forces, and found them as eager to as¬
sist as the senate was to oppose him. Antony was, in
fact, the general of both armies, and Lepidus was only
nominally so, for his soldiers refused to obey him upon
the approach of the former. But being assured of
the assistance of Octavianus upon their arrival in Ita-
ly, they soon crossed the Alps with an army of ] 7 le¬
gions, breathing revenge against all who had opposed
their designs.
The senate now began, too late, to perceive their
error in disobliging Octavianus; and therefore gave him
the consulship which they had so lately refused, .nd, to
prevent his joining with Antony, flattered him with
new honours, giving him a power superior to all law.
The first use Oet .vianus made of his new authority wa«
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
[ 177 ]
11 0 M
to procure a law for the condemnation of Brutus and koive.
Cassius ; after which, he joined his forces with those of 
Antony and Lepidus. 9
The meeting of these three usurpers of their conn- They'are
try’s freedom was near Mutina, upon a little island 0f recol1dletl,
the river Panarus. Their mutual suspicions were the ^ “
cause of their meeting in this place. Lepidus first en- 7ith Lt Ji
tered, and, finding all things safe, made the signal for dus. ‘
the other two to approach. Octavianus began the con¬
ference, by thanking Antony for his zeal in putting
Decimus Brutus to death; who, being abandoned by
his army, was taken as he wras designing to escape iii-
to Macedonia, and beheaded by Antony’s commanc1.
Their conference lasted for three days ; and the result 22*
of it wras, that the supreme authority should be lodo-ed T'le beccntl
in their hands, under the title of the triutnvinj(e,°tbv triumTU
the space of five years; that Antony should have ^
Gaul; Lepidus, Spain; and Octavianus, Africa, and
the Mediterranean islands. As for Italy, and the east¬
ern^ pi ovinces, they Were to remain in common, until
their general enemy was entirely subdued. But the last
article of their union was a dreadful one. It was
agreed that all their enemies should be destroyed • of
which each presented a list. In these were comprised Cruelties
not only the enemies, but the friends of the triumvi- of the tri-
rate, since the partisans of the one were often found urnv^rs‘
among the opposers of the others. Thus Lepidus gave
up his brother Paulus to the vengeance of his col¬
league ; Antony permitted the proscription of his uncle
Lucius ; and Octavianus delivered up the great Cicero.
The most sacred rights of nature were violated ; 300
senators, and above 2000 knights, were included in
this terrible proscription; their fortunes were confis¬
cated, and their murderers enriched with the spoil.
Rome soon felt the effects of this infernal union, and
the horrid cruelties of Marius and Sylla were renewed.
As many as could escape the cruelty of the triumvirs*
fled thither into Macedonia to Brutus, or found refuge
wfith young Pompey, who was now in Sicily, and Co¬
vered the Mediterranean with his numerous navy.
Their cruelties Avere not aimed at the men alone; but
the softer sex were in danger of being marked as ob¬
jects either of avarice or resentment. They made out
a list of 1400 women of the best quality, and the
1 ichest in the city, wdio were ordered to give in an ac¬
count of their fortunes, to be taxed in proportion. But
this seemed so unpopular a measure, and w as so firmly
opposed by Hortensia, who spoke against it, that, .in¬
stead of 1400 women, they ivere content to tax 'onk
400. However, they made up the deficiency, by ex¬
tending the tax upon men; near 100,000, as well ci¬
tizens as strangers, were compelled to furnish supplies
to the subversion of their country’s freedom. At last,
both the avarice and vengeance of the triumviri seem-
-ed fully satisfied, and they wrent into the seriate to de¬
clare that the proscription was at an end; and thus ha¬
ving deluged the city with blood, Octavianus and An-
tony, leaving Lepidus to defend Rome in their ab¬
sence, marched with their army to oppose the conspira¬
tors, who'Were now at the head of a formidable army in
Asia. *31
Brutus and Cassius, the principal of these, upon the They are
death of Caesar, being compelled to quit Rome, w ent opposed by
into Greece, where they persuaded the Roman students BriUus am!
at Athens to declare in the cause of freedom; then CuSiiuS
. ^ ^ parting*
11 O M [ 17S ] It O M
Ttoinc. parting, the for me.* raised a powerful army in Mace-
donia and the adjacent countries, while the latter went
into Syria, where he soon became master of 12 legions,
and reduced his opponent Dolabella to such straits
as to kill himself. Both armies soon after joining at
Smyrna, the sight of such a formidable force began to
revive the declining spirits of the party, and to re-unite
the two generals still more closely, between whom
there had been some time before a slight misunder¬
standing. In short, having quitted Italy like distress¬
ed exiles, without having one single soldier or one
town that owned their command, they now found
themselves at the head of a flourishing army, furnished
with all the necessaries for carrying on the war, and in
a condition to support a contest where the empire
of the world depended on the event. This success in
raising levies was entirely owing to the justice, mo¬
deration, and great humanity of Brutus, who in
every instance seemed studious of the happiness of his
country.
It was in this flourishing state of their affairs that
the conspirators had formed a resolution ofgoing against
Cleopatra, who on her side, had made great prepara¬
tions to assist their opponents. However, they were
diverted from this purpose by an information that Oc-
tavianus and Antony were now upon their march, with
40 legions to oppose them. Brutus now, therefore,
moved to have their army pass over into Greece and
Macedonia, and there meet the enemy; but Cassius so
far prevailed as to have the Rhodians and Lycians first
reduced, who had refused their usual contribution.
This expedition was immediately put in execution, and
extraordinary contributions were raised by that means,
the Rhodians having scarce any thing left but their
« See lives *. The Lycians suffered still more severely ; for
Rhodes. having shut themselves up in the city of Xanthus, they
defended the place against Brutus with such fury, that
neither his art nor intreaties could prevail upon them
to surrender. At length, the town being set on fire
by their attempting to burn the works of the Romans,
Brutus, instead of laying hold on this opportunity to
storm the place, made evex*y effort to preserve it, in¬
treating his soldiers to try all means of extinguishing
the fire : but the desperate frenzy of the citizens was
not to be mollified. Far from thinking themselves ob¬
liged to their generous enemy for the efforts which
were made to save them, they resolved to perish in the
flames. Wherefore, instead of extinguishing, they did
all in their power to augment the fire, by throwing in
wood, dryrteds, and all kinds of fuel. Nothing could
exceed the distress of Brutus upon seeing the townsmen
thus resolutely bent on destroying themselves : he rode
about the fortifications, stretching out his hands to the
Xanthians, and conjuring them to have pity on them¬
selves and their city; but, insensible to his expostula¬
tions, they rushed into the flames with desperate obsti¬
nacy, and the whole soon became an heap of undistin-
guishable ruin. At this horrid spectacle, Brutus offered
a reward to every soldier who would bring him a Lycian
Jive. The number of those whom it was possible to
save from their own fury amounted to no more than
150.
Brutus and Cassius met once more at Sardis, where,
after the usual ceremonies were passed between them,
they resolved to have a private conference together,
when, after much altercation, they were at last per- home
fectly reconciled. After which, night coming on, Cns-
sius invited Brutus and his friends to an entertainment.
Upon retiring home it was, that Brutus, as Plutarch
tells the story, saw a spectre in his tent. It was in jiru^
the dead of the night, when the whole camp was per- a spectre
fectly quiet, that Brutus was employed in reading by
a lamp that was just expiring. On a sudden he thought
he heard a noise as if somebody entered : and looking
towards the door, he perceived it open A gigantic
figure, with a frightful aspect, stood before him, and
continued to gaze upon him with silent severity. At
last Brutus had courage to speak to it: “ Art thou a
daemon or a mortal man ? and why comest thou to me?”
“ Brutus,” replied the phantom, “ I am thy evil ge¬
nius, thou shalt see me again at Philippi.” “ Well
then,” answered Brutus, without being discomposed,
“ we shall meet, again.” Upon which the phantom
vanished ; and Brutus calling to his servants, asked if
they had seen any thing : to which, replying in the ne¬
gative, he again resumed his studies. But as he was
struck with so strange an occurrence, he mentioned it
the next day to Cassius, who, being an Epicurean,
ascribed it to the effect of imagination too much exer¬
cised by vigilance and anxiety. Brutus appeared satis¬
fied with this solution of his late terrors; and, as An¬
tony and Octavianus were now advanced into Macedo¬
nia, they soon after passed over into Thrace/fand ad¬
vanced to the city of Philippi, near which the forces
of the triumvirs were posted.
A battle soon ensued ; which the republicans were
defeated, and Cassius killed, as is related in the article
Philippi. m i
The first care of Brutus, when he became the sole The re-
general, was to assemble the dispersed troops of Cas-publicans
sius, and animate tliem with fresh hopes of victory. As defeated,
they had lost all they possessed by the plundering of
their camp, he promised them 2000 denarii each man
to make up their losses. This once more inspired them ' I f
with new ardour; they admired the liberality of their
general, and with loud shouts proclaimed his former
intrepidity. Still, however, he had not confidence
sufficient to face the adversary, who offered him battle
the ensuing day. His aim was to starve his enemies,
who were in extreme want of provisions, their fleet ha¬
ving been lately defeated. But his single opinion was
overruled by the rest of his army, who now grew
every day more confident of their strength, and more
arrogant to their new general. He was, therefore, at
last, after a respite of 20 days, obliged to comply w'itli
their solicitations to try the fate of the battle. Both
armies being drawn out, they remained a long while
opposite to each other without offering to engage. It
is said that he himself had lost much of his natural ar¬
dour by having again seen the spectre the night prece¬
ding : however, he encouraged his men as nuch as pos¬
sible, and gave the signal for battle v/ithk. three hours 2341 I
of sunset, fortune again declared against him; and They a* |
the two triumviri expressly ordered by no means to suf- defeated j
for the general to escape, for fear he should renew the
war. i bus the whole body of the enemy seemed chief- ^me‘
ly intent on Brutus alone, and his capture seemed in¬
evitable. In this deplorable exigence, Lucilius his
friend resolved, by Ip’s own death, to effect the general’s
delivery. Upon perceiving a body of Thracian horse
closely
ii o M i m ] no m
■lime, closely pursuing Brutus, end just upon the point of tak-
ing him, he boldly threw himself in their w^y, telling
them that he was Brutus. The Thracians, overjoyed
with so great a prize, immediately dispatched some of
their companions, with the news of their success, to the
army. Upon which the ardour of the pursuit now
abating, Antony marched out to meet his prisoner ;
some silently deploring the fate of so virtuous a man;
othei s reproaching that mean desire of life for which he
consented to undergo captivity. Antony now seeing the
Thracians approach, began to prepare himself for the
interview; but the faithful Lucilius, advancing w ith a
cheerful air, owned the deceit that he had put upon
him : on which the triumvir, struck w ith so much fide¬
lity, pardoned him upon the spot; and from that time
forward loaded him with benefits, and honoured him
with his friendship.
In the mean time Brutus, with a small number of
friends, passed over a rivulet, and, night coming on, sat
down under a rock which concealed-him from the pur¬
suit of the enemy. After taking breath for a little time,
he sent out one Statilius to give him some information of
those that remained; but he never returned, being kill¬
ed by a party of the enemy’s horse. Brutus judging
very rightly of his fate, now resolved to die likewise,
and spoke to those who stood round him to lend him
I 35 their last sad assistance. None of them, howrever, would
B is render him so melancholy a piece of service. At last
b him- one Strato, averting his head, presented the sword’s
point to Brutus; who threw himself upon it, and im¬
mediately expired.
From the moment of Brutus’s death the triumviri
began to act as sovereigns, and to divide the Roman
dominions between them, as theirs by right of con¬
quest. However, though there were apparently three
who thus participated all the powrer, yet, in fact, only
two were actually possessed of it; since Lepidus was at
first admitted merely to curb the mutual jealousy of
Antony and Octavianus, and wras possessed neither of
interest in the army nor authority among the people.
Their first care was to punish those whom they had for¬
merly marked for vengeance. The head of Brutus
wras sent to Rome to be thrown at the foot of Caesar’s
statue. His ashes, however, were sent to his wife Ror-
tia, Cato’s daughter, who afterwards killed herself by
swallowing burning coals. It is observed, that of all
those who had a hand in the death of Caesar, not one
| 3C, died a natural death.
A ny’s fhe power of the triumvir being thus established
*l va* upon the ruins of the commonwealth, Antony w'ent
into Greece, and spent some time at Athens, conversing
among the philosophers, and assisting at their disputes
in person. From thence he passed over into Asia, where
all the monarchs of the east, who acknowledged the Ro¬
man power, came to pay him their obedience. In this
manner he proceeded from kingdom to kingdom, attend¬
ed by a crowd of sovereigns, exacting contributions, di¬
stributing favours, and giving away crowns with caprici¬
ous insolence. He presented the kingdom of Cappado¬
cia to Sysenes, in prejudice of Ariarathes, only because
he found pleasure in the beauty of Glaphyra, the mother
of the former. He settled Herod in the kingdom of Ju¬
dea, and supported him against every opposer. But a-
mong all the sovereigns of the east who shared his fa¬
vours, none had so large a part as Cleopatra, the cele¬
brated queen of Egypt.
It happened that Serapion, her governor in the island
°f Cyprus, had formerly furnished some succours to the
conspnato: s; and it was thought proper that she should
answer for his conduct on that occasion. Accordingly,
having received orders from Antony to come and clear
herself of this imputation of infidelity, she readily com¬
plied, equally conscious of the goodness of her cause and ,
the power of her beauty. She had already experienced Has an in-
the force of her charms upon Caesar and Pompey’s eldesttervitw
son ; and the addition of a few years since that time had " j*1
not impaired their lustre. Antony was now in Tarsus, a
city of Cilicia, when Cleopatra resolved to attend his
court in person. She sailed down the river Cydnus, at
the mouth of which the city stood, with the most sump¬
tuous pageantry. Her galley was covered with gokl ;
the sails were of purple, large, and floating in the wind.
I he oars of silver kept time to the sound of flutes and
cymbals. She herself lay reclined on a couch spangled
with stars of gold, and with such ornaments as poets and
painters had usually ascribed to Venus. On each side*
were boys like enpids, who finned her by turns ; w hile
the most beautiful nymphs, dressed like Nereids and
Graces, were placed at proper distances around her.
Upon the banks of the river w ere kept burning the
most exquisite perfumes, while an infinite number of
people gazed upon the sight. Antony was captivated
with her beauty ; and, leaving all his business to satis¬
fy his passion, shortly after followed her into Egypt.
While he thus remained idle, Octavianus, who took
upon him to lead back the veteran troops and settle
them in Italy, was assiduously employed in providing
for their subsistence. He had promised them lands at
home, as a recompense for their past services ; but they
could not receive new grants, without turning out the
former inhabitants. In consequence of this, multi¬
tudes of women, with children in their arms, whose
tender years and innocence excited universal compas¬
sion, daily filled the temples and the streets w ith their
distresses. Numbers of husbandmen and shepherds came
to deprecate the conqueror’s intention, or to obtain an
habitation in some ether part of the world. Amongst
this number was Virgil the poet, who in an humble
manner begged permission to retain his patrimonial
farm : Virgil obtained his request; but the rest of his
countrymen, of Mantua and Cremona, were turned out
without mercy. 0,,y
Italy and Rome now felt the most extreme miseries ; Miseries
the insolent soldiers plundered at w’ill; while Sextus sustained
Pompey, being master of the sea, cut off all foreign ky tfic Ro'
communication, and prevented the people’s receiving mans*
their usual supplies of com. To these mischiefs were
added the commencement of another civil war. Fulvia,
the wife of Antony, who had been left behind him at
Rome, had felt for some time all the rage of jealousy,
and resolved to try every method of bringing back her
husband from the arms of Cleopatra. She considered
a breach with Octavianus as the only probable means of
rousing him from his lethargy ; and accordingly, with
the assistance of Lucius her brother-in-law, who was
then consul, and entirely devoted to her interest, she
began to sow the seeds of dissension. The pretext was,
that Antony should have a share in the distribution of
II 0 M [ 180 ] II 0 M
llinne. londs as 'well as Octavianus. This produced some nego-
ciations between them; Oetavianus offered to make the
veterans themselves umpires in the dispute. Lucius re¬
fused to acquiesce ; and be;ng at the head of more than
six legions, mostly composed of such as had been dis¬
possessed of their lands, he resolved to compel Octavia-
nus to accept of whatever terms he should offer. Thus
a new war was excited between Octavianus and An¬
tony ; or, at least, the generals of the latter assumed
the sanction of h’s name. Octavianus, however, proved
victorious: Lucius was hemmed in between two ar¬
mies, and constrained to retreat to Perusia, a city of
Etruria, where he was closely besieged by the opposite
party. He made many desperate sallies, and Fulvia
did all in her pow er to relieve him, but without suc¬
cess. He w'as at last, therefore, reduced to such extre¬
mity by famine, that he came out in person and deli¬
vered himself up to the mercy of the conqueror. Oc¬
tavianus received him very honourably, and generously
pardoned him and all his followers. Thus having con¬
cluded the war in a few months, he returned in triumph
to Rome.
Antony, who, during this interval, w'as revelling in
all the studied luxuries procured him by his insidious
mistress, having heard of his brother’s overthrow, and
his wife’s being compelled to leave Italy, was resolved
to oppose Octavianus without delay. He accordingly
sailed at the head of a considerable fleet from Alex¬
andria to Tyre, from thence to Cyprus and Rhodes,
and had an interview with Fulvia his wife at Athens.
He much blamed her for occasioning the late disorders,
testified the utmost contempt for her person, and, lea¬
ving her upon her death-bed at Sicyon, hastened into
Italy to fight Octavianus. They both met at Brun-
dusium ; and it was now thought that the flames of a
civil war w ere going to blaze out once more. The
forces of Antony were numerous, but mostly newly
raised; however, he was assisted by Sextus Pompeius,
who in these oppositions of interests was daily coming
into power. Octavianus was at the head of those ve¬
terans who had always been irresistible, but who seem¬
ed no way disposed to fight against Antony their for¬
mer general. A negociation wras therefore proposed ;
and a reconciliation was effected. All offences and af¬
fronts were mutually forgiven; and to cement the
239 union, a marriage was concluded between Antony and
The eni- Octavia, the sister of Octavianus. A new division of
pire di- the Roman empire was made between them ; Octavi-
anus was to have the command of the west, Antony
of the east, while Lepidus was obliged to content him¬
self with the provinces in Africa. As for Sextus Pom¬
peius, he was permitted to retain all the islands he had
already possessed, together with Peloponnesus: he was
also granted the privilege of demanding the consulship
in his absence, and of discharging that office by any of
his friends. It was likewise stipulated to leave the sea
open, and pay the people what corn was due out of
"Sicily. Thus a general peace was concluded, to the
great satisfaction of the people, who now expected a
cessation from all their calamities.
This calm seemed to continue for some time: An¬
tony led his forces against the Parthian?, over whom
his lieutenant. Vent dius, had gained great advantages.
Octavianus drew the greatest part of his army into
Gaul, where there were some disturbances j and Pom-*
pey went to secure his newly ceded province to his, in- Rome,
terest. It was on this quarter that fresh motives were '■•'Ysi
given for renewing the war. Antony, who was obli¬
ged by treaty to quit Peloponnesus, refused to evacuate
it till Pompey had satisfied him for such debts as were
due to him from the inhabitants. This Pompey would
by no means comply with; but immediately fitted out
a new fleet, and renewed his former enterprises, by cut¬
ting off such corn and provisions as were consigned to
Italy. Thus the grievances of the poor were again re¬
newed ; and the people began to complain, that instead
of three tyrants they were now oppressed by four.
In this exigence, Octavianus, who bad l^ug medi¬
tated the best means of diminishing the number, resol¬
ved to begin by getting rid of Pompey, who kept the
state in continual alarms. He was master of two fleets ;
one of which lie had caused to be built at Ravenna ;
and another which Menodorus, who revolted from Pom-
pey, brought to his aid. His first attempt was to in¬
vade Sicily; but being overpowered in his passage by.
Pompey, and afterwards shattered in a storm, he was
obliged to defer his designs to the ensuing year. Du¬
ring this interval he was reinforced by a fleet of 120
ships, given him by Antony, with which he .resolved
once more to invade Sicily on three several quarters.
But fortune seemed still determined to oppose him. He
was a second time disabled and shattered by a storm:
which so raised the vanity of Pompey, that he began
to style himself the ton of Neptune. However, Octa¬
vianus was not to be intimidated by any disgraces; for
having shortly refitted bis navy, and recruited hisforces,
he gave the command of both to Agrippa, his faith¬
ful friend and associate in war. Agrippa proved him¬
self worthy of the trust reposed in him : he began his
operations by a victory over Pompey ; and, though he
was shortly after worsted himself, he soon after gave
his adversary a complete and final overthrow. Thus
undone, Pompey resolved to fly to Antony, from whom
he expected refuge, as he had formerly obliged that
triumvir by giving protection to his mother. How¬
ever, he tried once more, at the head of a small body of
men, to make himself independent, and even surprised
Antony’s officers who had been sent to accept of his
submissions. Nevertheless, he was at last abandoned by
his soldiers, and delivered up to Titus, Antony’s lieute- Pompeius
nant, who shortly after caused him to be slain. defeated
The death of this general removed one very power- aml taken
ful obstacle to the ambition of Octavianus, and he re- Prist,neI‘
solved to take the earliest opportunity to get rid of the
rest of his associates. An offence was soon furnished
by Lepidus, that served as a sufficient pretext for de¬
priving him of his share in the triumvirate. Being now
at the head of 22 legions, with a strong body of ca-
vahy, he idly supposed that his present power was more
than an equivalent to the popularity of Octavianus.
He therefore resolved upon adding Sicily, where he
then was, to his province; pretending a right, as having
first invaded it. His colleague sent to expostulate upon
these proceedings; but Lepidus fiercely replied, ‘that
he was determined to have his share in the administra¬
tion, and would no longer submit to let one alone pos¬
sess all the authority.’ Octavianus was previously in¬
formed of the disposition of Lepidus’s soldiers ; for he
had, by his secret intrigues and largesses, entirely at¬
tached them tq himself. Wherefore, without further
delay.
11 0 M [ 181 J II O M
1 «e. delay, lie with great boldness went alone to the camp
U of Lepidus, and with no other assistance than his pri¬
vate bounties, and the authority he had gained by his
former victories, he resolved to depose his rival. The
soldiers thronged round him with the most dutiful ala¬
crity, while Lepidus hastened to prevent their defection.
But Octavianus, though he received a wound from one
of the centurions, went with great presence of mind to
the place where the military ensigns were planted, and,
flourishing one of them in the air,, all the legionary sol-
j diers ran in crowds and saluted him as their general.
it us Lepidus being thus abandoned by his men, divested
def himself of all the marks of his authority, which he
am a- could no longer keep, and submissively threw himself
,)i3 at the feet of Octavianus. This general spared his life,
notwithstanding the remonstrances of his army; but de¬
prived him of all his former authority, and banished him
to Circaeum.
Octavianus was received upon his return to Rome
with universal joy ; the senators met him at the gates,
and conducted him to the capitol: the people follow¬
ed, crowned with garlands of flowers: and after ha-
j2 ving returned thanks to the gods, waited upon him to
ny's his palace. There remained now but one obstacle to
in adent his ambition, which was Antony, whom he resolved to
oo ict. remove, and for that purpose began to render his cha¬
racter as contemptible as he possibly could at Rome.
In fact, Antony’s conduct did not a little contribute
to promote the endeavours of his ambitious partner in
the state. He had marched against the Parthians with
a prodigious army; but wras forced to return with the
loss of the fourth part of his forces, and all his bag-
• je Par- gage *. This extremely diminished his reputation ;
ft but his making a triumphal entry into Alexandria soon
after, entirely disgusted the citizens of Rome. PIow-
ever, Antony seemed quite regardless of their resent¬
ment : totally disregarding the business of the state, he
spent whole days and nights in the company of Cleo¬
patra, who studied every art to increase his passion, and
vary his entertainments. Not contented with sharing
in her company all the delights which Egypt could
afford, Antony was resolved to enlarge his sphere of
luxury, by granting her many of those kingdoms which
belonged to the Roman empire. He gave her all
Phcenicia, Celo-Syria, and Cyprus ; w ith a great part
of Cilicia, Arabia, and Judea; gifts which he had no
right to bestow, but which he pretended to grant in
imitation of Hercules. This complication. of vice and
folly at length totally exasperated the Romans; and
Octavianus, willing to take advantage of their resent¬
ment, took care to exaggerate all his defects. At
length, when he found the people sufficiently irritated
against him, he x*esolved to send Octavia, who was then
at Rome, to Antony, as if with a view of reclaiming
her husband; but, in fact, to furnish a sufficient pretext
of declaring war against him, as he knew she should be
dismissed with contempt.
Antony was now in the city of Leucopolis, revelling
with his insidious paramour, w hen he heard that Octa¬
via w'as at Athens, upon her journey to visit him. This
was very unwelcome news to him as well as to Cleopa¬
tra ; who, fearing the charms of her rival, endeavoured
to convince Antony of the strength of her passion. He
frequently caught her in tears, which she seemed as if
willing to hide; and often intreated her to tell him the
cause, which she seemed willing to suppress. These ar- ftorwc.
Cflees, together with the ceaseless flattery and importu-
nity of her creatures, prevailed so much upon Antony’s
weakness, that he commanded Octavia to return home •
without seeing her, and attached himself still more close¬
ly to Cleopatra than before. His ridiculous passion
now began to have no bounds. He resolved to own
her for his wife, and entirely to repudiate Octavia. He Divorces
accordingly assembled the people of Alexandria in the Octavia,
public theatre, where wras raised an alcove of silver, un- “nd niar'
der which were placed two thrones of gold, one for nc* Cle0'
himself and the other for Cleopatra. There he seated ^
himself, dressed like Bacchus, while Cleopatra sat beside
him clothed in the ornaments and attributes of Isis, the
principal deity of the Egyptians. On that occasion he
declared her queen of all the countries which he had
already bestowed upon her ; w'hile he associated Caesa-
rio, her son by Caesar, as her partner in the government.
To the twro children which he had by her himself he
gave the title of king of kings, with very extensive do¬
minions ; and, to crown his absurdities, he sent a mi¬
nute account of his proceedings to the twro consuls at
Rome. It was now necessary to act up to his imagi¬
nary dignity ; new luxuries and pageantries wrere now
therefore studied, and new7 marks of profusion found
out: not less than L.6’0,000 of our money wrere lavished
upon one single entertainment; it is said, upon this oc¬
casion, that Cleopatra dissolved a pearl of great value in
vinegar, and drank it off. But we are told of one cir¬
cumstance that might wTell repress their del ghts, and
teach mankind to relish the beverage of virtue, how ¬
ever simple, above their greatest luxuries. He w’as sus¬
picious of being poisoned in every meal; he feared
Cleopatra, whom he so much loved, and would eat no¬
thing without having it previously tasted by one of his
attendants. 244
In the mean time Octavianus had now a sufficient Octavianus
pretext for declaring war ; and informed the senate of resi^vca ta
his intentions. However, he deferred the execution of
his design for a while, being then employed in quelling
an insurrection of the Illyrians. The following year
wras chiefly taken up in preparations against Antony, .
who, perceiving his design, remonstrated to the senate,
that he had many causes of complaint against his col¬
league, who had seized upon Sicily without offering him
a.share; alleging that he had also dispossessed Lepidus,
and kept to himself the province he had commanded ;
and that he had divided .all Italy among his own sol¬
diers, leaving nothing to recompense those in Asia. To
this complaint Octavianus was contented to make a sar¬
castic answer; implying, that it was absurd to com¬
plain of his distribution of a few trifling districts in Italy,
when Antony having conquered Parthia, he might now
reward his soldiers with cities and provinces. The sar¬
casm upon Antony’s misfortunes in Parthia so provo¬
ked him, that he ordered Canidius, who commanded his
army, to march without intermission into Europe;
while he and Cleopatra followed to Samos, in order to
prepare for carrying on the war with vigour. When
arrived there, it was ridiculous enough to behold the
odd mixture of preparations for pleasure and for war.
On one side all the kings and princes from Europe to
the Euxine sea had orders to send him thither supplies
both of men, provisions and arms ; on the other side,
all the comedians, dancers, buffoons, and musicians of
Greece,
K O M '[ 3
lion.e. Greece, were ordered to attend lum. Thus, freqnent-
lv, when a siiiji was thought to arrive laden with sol¬
diers, arms, and ammunition, it was found only tilled
with players and theatrical machinery. When news
was expected of the approach of an army, messengers
only arrived with tidings of a tresh quantity of venison.
The kings who attended him endeavoured to gain his
favour more by their entertainments than their warlike
preparations ; the provinces strove rather to please him
by sacrificing to his divinity, than by their alacrity in
his defence; so that some were heard to say, “ What
rejoicings would not this man make for a victory,
when he thus triumphs at the eve of a dangerous war!”
In short, his best friends now began to forsake his in¬
terests.
His delay at Samos, and afterwards at Athens, where
he carried Cleopatta to receive new honours, wras ex¬
tremely favourable to the arms of Octavianus. This
general was at first scarcely in a disposition to oppose
him, had he gone into Italy : but he soon found time
to put himself in a condition for carrying on the war,
and shortly after declared it against him in form. All
Antony’s followers were invited over to join him, with
great promises of rewards : but they were not declared
enemies, partly to prevent their growing desperate, and
partly to give a show of moderation to his own party.
At length both found themselves in readiness to begin
the war, and their armies were answerable to the em¬
pire they contended for. The one was followed by all
the forces of the east ; the other drew all the strength
of the west fo support his p etensions. Antony’s force
conposed a body of !00,000 foot and 12,000 horse;
while his fleet amounted to 500 ships of war. The ar¬
my o' Octavianus mustered but 80,000 foot, but equal¬
led his adversary’s in the number of cavalry ; his fleet
was but hall as numerous as Antony’s ; however, his
ships were better built, and manned with better sol¬
diers.
w ' ^ The great decisive engagement, which was a naval
defeated at on€b was fought near Actium, a city of Epirus, at the
Actium. entrance of the gulf of Ambracia. Antony ranged
his ships before the mouth of the gulf; and Octavi¬
anus drew up his fleet in opposition. Neither general
assumed any fixed station to command in ; but went
about from ship to ship wherever his presence was ne¬
cessary. In the mean time, the two land armies, on
opposite sides of the gulf, were drawn up, only as
spectators of the engagement; and encouraged the
fleets by their shouts to engage. The battle began on
both sides with great ardour, and after a manner not
practised upon former occasions. Trie prows of their
vessels were armed with brazen points; and with these
they drove furiously against each other. In this con¬
flict the ships of Antony came with greater force, but
those of Octavianus avoided the shock with greater dex¬
terity. On Antony’s side, the sterns of the ships were
raised in foi m of a tower ; from whence they threw ar¬
rows from machines for that purpose. Those of Oc¬
tavianus made use of long poles hooked with iron, and
fire-pots. rihey fought in this manner for tome time
with equal animosity; nor was theie any advantage on
either side, except a small appearance of disorder in the
centre of Antony’s fleet. But all of a sudden Cleopatra
determined the tortune of the day. She was seen flying
from the engagement attended by 60 sail; struck, per-
82 ] It O M
haps, with the terrors natural to her sex : but what in- Home,
creased the general amazement was, to behold Antony W-pV
himjelf following soon after, and leaving his fleet at the
mercy of the conquerors. The engagement, notwith¬
standing, continued with great obstinacy till five in the
evening ; when Antony’s forces, partly constrained by
the conduct of Agrippa, and partly persuaded by the
promises of Octavianus, submitted to the conqueror.
The land forces soon after followed the example of the
navy; and all yielded to the conqueror without striking
a blow the fourth day after the battle.
When Cleopatra fled, Antony pursued her in a five-
oared galley; and coming along-side of her ship enter¬
ed, without seeing or being seen by her. She was in
the stern, and he went to the prow, where he remain¬
ed for some time silent, holding his head between his
hands. In this manner he continued three whole flays ;
during which, either through indignation or shame, he
neither saw nor spoke to Cleopatra. At last, when
they were arrived at the promontory of Tenarus, the
queen’s female attendants reconciled them, and every
thing went on as before. Still, however, he had the
consolation to suppose his army continued faithful to
him : and accordingly dispatched orders to his lieute¬
nant Canidius to conduct it into Asia. However, he
was roon undeceived when he arrived in Africa, when
he was informed of their submission to his rival. This
account so transported him with rage, that he was hard¬
ly prevented from killing himself; but at length, at the
entreaty of his friends, he returned to Alexandria, in a
very different situation from that in which he had left
it some time before. Cleopatra, however, seemed to
retain that fortitude in her misfortunes which had utter¬
ly abandoned her admirer. Having amassed consider¬
able riches by means of confiscation and other acts of
violence, she formed a very singular and unheard of pro¬
ject; this was to convey her whole fleet over the isthmus
of Suez into the Red sea, and thereby save herself in
another region beyond the reach of Rome, with all her
treasures. Some of her vessels were actually transport¬
ed thither, pursuant to her orders; but the Arabians
having burnt them, and Antony dissuading her from
the design, she abandoned it for the more improbable ^
scheme of defending Egypt against the conqueror — He resolves
She omitted nothing in her power to put his advice in t0 <ie,’enJ
practice, and <. ade all kinds of preparations for war; jr
at least hoping thereby to obtain better terms from Oc- eon'meror
tavianus. In fact, she had always loved Antony’s for¬
tunes rather than his person; and if she could have fallen
upon a method of saving herself, though even at his
expence,there is no doubt but she would have embraced
it with gladness. She even still had some hopes fom
the power of her charms, though she was arrived almost
at the age of 40 ; and wras desirous of trying upon Oc¬
tavianus those arts which had beenso successful w ith the
greatest men of Rome. Thus, in three embassies which
were sent one after another from Antony to his rival in
Asia, the queen had ahvays her secret agents, charged
with particular proposals in her name. Antony desired
no more than that his life might be spared, and to have
the liberty of passing the remainder of his days in ob¬
scurity. 1 o tnese proposals Oc avianus made no re-
P y- Cleopatra sent him also public proposals in fa¬
vour of her children; but at the same time privately
iesigned him her crown, with all the ensigns ol royalty.
To
II 0 M r 183 ] K 0 M
I ic. To the queen’s public proposal no answer was given ;
^ W to her private offer he replied by giving her assurances
of his favour in case she sent away Antony or put him
to death. These negociations were not so private but
they came to the knowledge of Antony, whose jealousy
and rage were now heightened by every concurrence.
He built a small solitary house upon a mole in the sea;
and there he passed his time, shunning all commerce
with mankind, and professing to imitate Timon the
man-hater. However, Ids furious jealousy drove him
even from this retreat into society; for hearing that
Cleopatra had many secret conferences with one Thyr¬
sus, an emissary from Octavianus, he seized upon him,
and having ordered him to be cruelly scourged, he sent
him back to his patron. At the same time he sent
letters by him,importing, that he had chastised Thyrsus
for insulting a man in his misfortunes ; but withal he
gave his rival permission to avenge himself, by scourg¬
ing Hipparchus, Antony’sfreedman, in the samemanner.
The revenge in this case, would have been highly plea¬
sing to Antony, as Hipparchus had left him to join the
fortunes of his more successful rival.
Meanwhile, the operations of the war were carried
vigorously forward, and Egypt was once more the
theatre of the contending armies of Rome. Gall us,
the lieutenant of Octavianus, took Paretonium, which
opened the whole country to his incursions. On the
other side, Antony, who had still considerable forces
by sea and land, wanted to take that important place
from the enemy. He therefore marched towards it,
flattering himself, that as soon as he should show him¬
self to the legions which he had once commanded,
their affection for their ancient general would revive.
He approached therefore, and exhorted them to remem¬
ber their former vows of fidelity. Oallus, however, or¬
dered all the trumpets to sound, in order to hinder An-
|! 7 tony from being heard, so that he was obliged to retire,
el nm Octavianus himself was in the mean time advancing
« tip -with another army before Pelusium, which, by its
v*' strong situation, might have retarded his progress for
some time. But the governor of the city, either want¬
ing courage to defend it, or previously instructed by
Cleopatra to give it up, permitted him to take posses¬
sion of the place ; so that Octavianus had now no ob¬
stacle in his way to Alexandria, whither lie marched
with all expedition. Antony, upon his arrival, sallied
out to oppose him, fighting with great desperation,
and putting the enemy’s cavalry to flight. This slight
advantage once more revived his declining hopes; and
being naturally vain, he ic-entered Alexandria in tri¬
umph. Then going, all armed as he was, to the pa¬
lace, he embraced Cleopatra, and presented her a soldier
Avho had distinguished himself in the late engagement.
The queen rewardedhim verymagnificently; presenting
him with an head-piece and breast-plate of gold. With
these, however, the soldier went off the next night to
the other army. Antony could not bear this defection
without fresh indignation; he resolved, therefore, to
make a bold expiring effort by sea and land, but previ¬
ously offered to fight bis adversary in single combat.
Octavianus too well knew the inequality of their situa¬
tions to comply with this forlorn offer ; he only, there¬
fore, coolly replied, that Antony had ways enough to
die besides single combat.
The evening before the day appointed for the last
desperate attempt, he ordered a grand entertainment to Rome,
be prepared. At day-break he posted the few troops ^
he had remaining upon a rising ground near the city ; 218 ,
from whence he sent orders to his galleys to engage the
enemy. There he waited to be a spectator of the com- flee/
bat; and, at first, lie had the satisfaction to see them
advance in good order; but his approbation was soon
turned into rage, when he saw his ships only saluting
those of Octavianus, and both fleets uniting together,
and sailing back into the harbour. At the very same
time his cavalry deserted him. He tried, however, to
lead on his infantry; which were easily vanquished, and
he himself compelled to return into the town. His
anger was now ungovernable ; he could not help crying
out aloud as he passed, that he was betrayed by Cleo¬
patra, and delivered by her to those who, for her sake
alone, were his enemies. In these suspicions he was not
deceived; for it was by secret orders from the queen
that the fleet had passed over to the enemy.
Cleopatra had for a long while, dreaded the effects
of Antony’s jealousy ; and had, some time before, pre¬
pared a method of obviating any sudden sallies it
might produce. Near the temple of Isis she had erec¬
ted a building, which was seemingly designed for a
sepulchre. Hither she removed all her treasure and
most valuable effects, covering them over with torches,
faggots, and other combustible matter. This sepulchre
she designed to answer a double purpose, as well to
screen her from the sudden resentments of Antony, as
to make Octavianus believe that she would burn all her
treasures in case he refused her proper terms of capitu¬
lation. Here, therefore, she retired from Antony’s
present fury ; shutting the gates, which were fortified
with bolts and bars of iron : but in the mean time gave
orders that a report should be spread of her death.—
This news, which soon reached Antony, recalled all
his former love and tenderness. He now lamented her
death with the same violence he had but a few minutes
before seemed to desire it; and called one of his freed-
men, named Eros, whom he had by oath engaged to
kill him whenever fortune should drive him to this last
resource. Eros being now commanded to perform his
promise, this faithful follower drew the sword, as if
going to execute his orders; but turning his face,
plunged it into his own bosom, and died at his master’s
feet. Antony for a while hung over his faithful ser- 21 f)
vant, and, commending his fidelity, took up the sword. Stabs hini-
with which stabbing himself in the belly, he fell back-
ward upon a little couch. Though the wound was
mortal, yet the blood stopping he recovered his spirits,
and earnestly conjured those who were come into the
room to put an end to his life; but they all fled, being
seized with fright and horror. Tie therefore continued
in agonies for some time ; till he was informed by one
of the queen’s secretaries that his mistress was stdl alive.
Hethenearnestly desired to be carried to the place where
she was. They accordingly brought him to the gate of
the sepulchre; but Cleopatra, who would not permit it
to be opened, appeared at tbe window, and threw down
cords in order to pull him up. In this manner, assisted
by her two female attendants, she raised him all l loody
from the ground; and while yet suspended in the air,
he continued stretching out his hands to encourage her.
Cleopatra and her maids had only just strength suffici¬
ent to raise him; and at last, with much straining, they
effected
II 0 M [ 184 ] E 0 M
uome. effected their purpose, and carried him to a couch, on
which they gently laid him. Here she gave way to
her sorrow, tearing her clothes, beating her breast, and
kissing the wound of which he was dying. She called
upon him as her lord, her husband, her emperor, and
seemed to have forgot her own distresses in the greatness
of his sufferings. Antony entreated her to moderate
the transports of her grief, and asked for some wine.
After he had drank,he entreated Cleopatra to endeavour
to preserve her li e, if she could do it with honour ; and
recommended Proculus, a friend of Octavianus, as one
^ she might rely on to be her intercessor. Just as he had
Hedies done speaking, he expired: and Proculus made his ap-
pearanee by command of Octavianus, wdio had been
informed of Antony’s desperate conduct. He was sent
to try all means of getting Cleopatra into his power ;
his master having a double motive for his solicitude on
this occasion ; one, to prevent her destroying the trea¬
sures she had taken with her into the tomb ; the other,
to preserve her person as an ornament to grace his tri¬
umph. Cleopatra, however, was upon her guard, and
would not confer with Proculus, except through the
gate, which v well secured. In the mean time, while
he designedly drew out the conference to some length,
andhadgivenGaHus, one of hisfel!ow-sokliers,directions
to carry on the conversation in his absence, he entered
with two more by the window at which Antony had been
drawn up. As soon as he v'as entered, he ran down
?jl to the ga'e; and one of the women crying out, that
taken?1™ v'ere tf<ken alive, Cleopatra, perceiving what had
happened, drew a poniard, and attempted to stab her¬
self; but Proculus prevented the blow', and gently remon¬
strated that she was cruel in refusing so good a prince
as his master was the pleasure of displaying bis clemen¬
cy. He then forced the poniard out of her hand, and
examined her clothes to be certain she had no poison
about her. Thus leaving every thing secured, he went
to acquaint his master with his proceedings.
Octavianus was extremely pleased at finding her in
his power: he sent Epaphroditus to bring her to his pa¬
lace, and to watch her with the utmost circumspection.
He was likewise ordered to use her, in every respect,
with that deference and submission which were due to
her rank, and to do every thing in h;s power to render
her captivity agreeable. She was permitted to have the
honour of granting Antony the rites of burial, and
furnished with every thing she desired, that was becom¬
ing his dignity to receive, or her love to offer. Yet
still she languished under her new confinement. Her
excessive sorrow, her many losses, and the blows she had
given her bosom, produced a fever, which she seemed
willing to increase. She resolved to abstain from taking
any nourishment, under the pretence of a regimen ne¬
cessary for her disorder; but Octavianus being made ac¬
quainted with the real motive by her physician, began
to threaten her w ith regard to her children, in easelhe
persisted. This was die only punishment that could
row affect her; she allowed herself to be treated as they
^ thought proper, and received whatever was prescribed
for hei recovery.
In the mean time Octavianus made his entry into
Ah x ndria, taking c. re to n itigate the fears of the
inhanitants, by conversing familiarly as he went along
with Arens a philosopher, and a native of the place.
The citizens, however, trembled at his approach ; and k'me.
w hen he placed himself upon the tribunal, they pro-
strated themselves, with their faces to the ground, be¬
fore him, like criminals who waited the sentence of their
execution. Octavianus presently o dered them to rise ;
telling them, that three motives induced him to pardon
them : His respect for Alexander, who w'as (he founder
of their city; his admiration of its beauty ; and his
friendship for Areus, their fellow-citizen. Two only of
particular note were.put to death upon this occasion;
Antony’s eldest son Antyllus, and Caesario, the son of
Julius Caesar ; both betrayed into his hands by their re¬
spective tutors,who themselves suffered for their perfidy
shortly after. As for the rest of Cleopatra’s children,
he treated them with great gentleness, leaving them to
the care of those who were entrusted with their educa¬
tion, who had orders to provide them with every thing
suitable to their birth. When she was recovered from
her late indisposition, he came to visit her in person.—
Cleopatra had been preparing for this interview, and
made use of every method she could think of to propi¬
tiate the conqueror, and to gain his affection; but in
vain. However, at his departure, Octavianus imagined
that he had reconciled her to life, and to the indignity
of being shewn in the intended triumph, which he was
preparing for on his return to Rome : but in this he was
deceived. Cleopatra, all this time, had kept a corre¬
spondence with Dolabella, a young Roman of high
birth, in the camp of Octavianus ; who, perhaps, from
compassion, cm stronger motives, was interested in the
misfortunes of that princess. From him she learnt the
intentions of Octavianus, and that he was determined to
send her off in three days, together with her children,
to Rome She now therefore determined upon dying ;
hut previously intreated permission to pay her oblations
at Antony’s tomb. This request being granted her,
she was carried with her two female attendants to the
stately monument where he was laid. There she threw
herself upon his coffin, bewailed her captivity, and re¬
newed her protestations not to survive him. She then
crowned the tomb with garlands of flowers; and having
kissed the coffin a thousand times, she returned home to
execute her fatal resolution. Having bathed, and or¬
dered a sumptuous banquet, she attired herself in the
most splendid manner. She then feasted as usual; and
soon after ordered all but her two attendants, Charmi-
on and Iras, to leave the room. Then, having previ¬
ously ordered an asp to be secretly conveyed to her in a
ba ket of fruit, she sent a letter toOctavianus, informing
him of her fatal purpose, and desiring to be buried in
the same tomb with Antony. Octavianus, upon recei-
ving this letter, instantly dispatched messengers to pre- Herdestiif
vent her, but they arrived too late. Upon entering the
chamber, they beheld Cleopatra lying dead upon a
gilded couch, arrayed in her royal robes. Near her,
Iras, one of her faithful attendants, was stretched lifeless
at the feet of her mistress ; and Charmion herself, al¬
most expiring, was settling the diadem upon Cleopatra’s
head. She died at the age of thirty-nine, after having
reigned twenty-two years. Her death put an end to
the monarchy in Egypt, which had flourished there from
time immemorial.
Octavianus seemed much troubled at Cleopatra’s
death, as it deprived himof a principal ornament in his
intended
ROM [ 185 ] R 0 M
ome. intended triumph. However, the manner of it a good
§ deal exalted her character among the Romans, with
whom suicide was considered as a virtue. Her dying
request was complied with, her body being laid by An¬
tony’s, and a magnificent funeral prepared for her and
her two faithful attendants.
After having settled the affairs of Egypt, he left
Alexandria in die beginning of September, in the
year of Rome 720, with a design to return through
Syria, Asia Minor, and Greece, to Italy. On his ar¬
rival at Antioch, he found thiere Tiridates, who had
been raised to the throne of Parthia in opposition to
Phrabates, and likewise ambassadors from Phrahates,
who were all come on the same errand ; to wit, to so
licit the assistance of the Romans against each other.
Octavianus gave a friendly answer both to Tiridates and
the ambassadors of Phrahates, without intending to help
either; but rather with a design to animate the one
against the other, and by that means to weaken both,
so far as to render the Parthian name no longer formi¬
dable to Rome. After this, having appointed Messala
Corvinus governor of Syria, he marched into the pro¬
vince of Asia, properly7 so called, and there took up
his winter-quarters. He spent the whole winter in set¬
tling the affairs of the several provinces of Asia Minor
and the adjacent islands ; and early in the spring passed
into Greece, whence he set out for Rome, which he
entered in the month Sextilis, afterwards called August,
|i j in three triumphs, which were celebrated for three days
DI via- together.
u has And now" Octavianus wras at the height of his wishes,
tl ghts of sole sovereign, sole master, of the whole Roman empire,
nj nmg Rut, on the other hand, the many dangers which at-
'ower' tend an usurped power, appearing to him in a stronger
light than ever, filled his mind with a thousand perplex¬
ing thoughts. The natural aversion of the Romans to
a kingly government their love of liberty, and the ides
of March, when his father Julius was murdered in full
senate by those very men whom he thought the most
devoted to his person, m ule him fear there might arise
another Brutus, who, to restore liberty to his country,
might assassinate him on his very throne. This he knew
had happened to Julius Caesar; w-hereas Sylla, after
having laid down the authority he had usurped, died
peaceably in his bed in the midst of his enemies. The
passion of fear outw eighed in his soul the charms of a
diadem, and inclined him to follow the example of Syl¬
la He wras indeed very unw illing to part with his
authority ; but fear began to get the better of his am¬
bition. However, before he came to any resolution,
he thought it advisable to consult his two most intimate
and trusty friends, Agrippa and Maecenas ; the former
no less famous for his probity than his valour; and the
latter a man of great penetration, and generally esteem¬
ed the most refined politician of his age. Agrippa en¬
larged on the many and almost inevitable dangers which
attend monarchy, insupportable to a free people, and to
men educated in a commonwealth. He did not forget
the examples of Sylla and Caesar; and closed his speech
with exhorting Octavianus to convince the world,
by restoring liberty to his country, that the only mo¬
tive for his taking up arms was to revenge his father’s
death.
Maecenas, on the other hand, remonstrated to him,
that he had done too much to go back; that, after
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
so much bloodshed, there could be no safety for him Komr.
but on the throne; that, if he divested himself of the
sovereign power, he would be immediately prosecuted
by the children and friends of the many illustrious per- But y ‘ff’*
sons whom the misfortunes of the times had forced him it by Ma¬
to sacrifice to his safety ; that it was absolutely neces- etnas,
sary for the welfare and tranquillity of the republic,
that the sovereign power should be lodged hi one per¬
son, not divided among many, &c. Octavianus thanked
them both for their friendly advice, but showed himself
inclined to follow the opinion of Maecenas ; whereupon
that able minister gave him many w'ise instructions and
rules of government, w hich are related at length by Dio
Cassius, and will ever be looked upon as a masterpiece
in politics. Among other things he told him. That he
could not fail of being successful in all his undertakings,
happy in his lifetime, and famous in history after his
death, if he never deviated from this rule ; to wit, To
govern others as he would wish to be governed himself,
had he been born to obey and not to command. He
added. That if, in taking upon him the sovereign
power, he dreaded the name of king, a name so odious
in a commonwealth, he might content himself with the
title of Caesar or Imperator, and under that name, which
W"as w’ell known to the Romans, enjoy all the authority
of a king.
This advice Octavianus followed, and from that time
laid aside allthoughtsof abdicating the sovereign pow'er;
but, to deceive the people into a belief that they still
enjoyed their ancient government, he continued the old
magistrates, with the same name, pomp, and ornaments,
but with just as much power as he thought fit to leave
them. They were to have no military power, but on¬
ly their old jurisdiction of deciding finally all causes,
except such as were capital; and though some of these
last were left to the governor of Rome, yet the chief
he reserved for himself. He paid great court to the
people : the very name that covered his usurpation was
a compliment to them; for he affected to call it the
power of the tribuneship, though he acted as absolutely
by it as if he had called it the dictatorial power. He
likewise won the hearts of the populace by cheapness of
provisions and plentiful markets ; he frequently enter¬
tained them with shows and sports; and by these means
kept them in good humour, and made them forget usur¬
pation, slavery, and every public evil ; people in ease
and plenty being under no temptation of inquiring into
the title of their prince, or resenting acts of power
which they do not immediately feel.
As for the senate, he filled it with his own creatures,
raising the number of the conscript fathers to 1000.
He supplied several poor senators with money out of
the treasury to discharge the public offices, and on all
occasions affected a high regard for that venerable
body ; but the same time divested them of all power,
and reduced them to mere cyphers. To prevent them
from raisingnew disturbances in the distant provinces, he
issued an edict, forbidding any senator to travel out of
Italy without leave, except such as had lands in Sicily,
or Narbonne Gaul, which at that time comprehended
Languedoc, Provence, and Dauphiny. To these pro¬
vinces, which were near Italy, and in a perfect state of
tranquillity, they had full liberty to retire when they
pleased, and live there upon their estates. Before he
ended his sixth consulship, he took a census of the peo-
t A a pie,
Home.
—V '
255
The senate
intreat him
to accept
the sove¬
reignty.
25f»
He takes
the title of
Augustus.
E O M [ 180 ] E 0 M
which was 1' 1 years sPter tlie last ^ and in tills tlie
number of men fir to bear arms amounted to 463,000,
the greatest that had ever been founl before. He like¬
wise celebrated fhe games which hid been decreed by
the senate tor his victory at Actium ; and it was order¬
ed, that they should be celebrated every fifth year, four
colleges of priests being appointed to take care of them :
to wit, the pontifices, the augurs, the septemvirs, and
quindecimvirs. The more to gain the affections of the
people, he annulled, by one edict, the many severe and
unjust laws which had been enacted during the tri¬
umvirate. He raised many public buildings, repaired
the old one1, and added many stately ornaments to the
city, which at this time was, if we may give credit to
some ancient writers, about 50 miles in compass, and
contained near four millions of souls, reckoning men,
women, children, and slaves. He attended business,
reformed abuses, showed great regard for the Roman
name, procured public abundance, pleasure, and jollity,
often appearing in person at the public diversions, and
in all things studying to render himself dear to the
populace.
And now Octavianus, entering upon his seventh con¬
sulship with M. Agrippa, the third time consul, and
finding all things ripe for his design, the people being
highly pleased with his mild government, and the se¬
nate filled with his creatures, whose fortunes depended
upon bis holding the power he had usurped, went by
the advice of Agrippa and Maecenas to the senate-
house ; and there, in a studied speech, offered to resign
his authority, and put all again into the hands of the
people upon the old foundation of the commonwealth;
being well apprised, that the greater part of the con¬
script fathers, whose interests were interwoven with his,
would unanimously press him to the contrary : Which
happened accordingly ; for they not only interrupted
him while he was speaking, but after he had done, un¬
animously besought him to take upon himself alone the
whole government of the Roman empire. He, with a
seeming reluctance, yielded at last to their request, as if
he had been compelled to accept of the sovereignty.
By this artifice he compassed his design, which was, to
get the power and authority, which he had usurped,
confirmed to him by the senate and people for the space
of 10 years : for he would not accept of it for a longer
term, pretending he should in that time be able to settle
all things in such peace and order that there would be
no further need of his authority ; but that he might
then ease himself of the burden, and put the govern¬
ment again into the hands of the senate and people.
This method he took to render the yoke less heavy ;
but with a design to renew his lease, if we may be al¬
lowed the expression, as soon as the ten years were ex¬
pired ; which he did accordingly from ten years to ten
years as long as he lived, all the while governing the
whole Roman empire with an absolute and uncontrouled
power. With this new authority the senate resolved
to distingui h him with a new name. Some of the con¬
script fathers proposed the name of Romulus, thereby
to import that he was another founder of Rome ; others
offered other titles ; but the venerable name of Augus¬
tus, proposed by Manutius Plancus, seemed preferable
to ail the rest, as it expressed more dignity and reve¬
rence than authority, the most sacred things, such as
temples, and places consecrated by augurs, being termed
by the Romans Augusta. Octavianus himself was in- Roms,
clin d to assume the name of Romulus ; but, fearing he -—yW
should be suspected of affecting the kingdom, he de¬
clined it, and took that of Augustus, by which we shall
henceforth distinguish him.
Though the whole power of the senate and people
was now vested in Augustus, yet, that he might seem
to share it with the conscript lathers, he refused to go¬
vern all the provinces; assigning to the senate such as
were quiet and peaceable ; and keeping to himself those
which, bordering upon barbarous nations, were most ex¬
posed to troubles and wars, saying. He desired the fa¬
thers might enjoy their power with ease and safety,
while he underwent all the dangers and labours: but,
by this politic conduct, he secured all the military power
to himself: the troops lying in the provinces he had
chosen; and the others which were governed by the
senate, being quite destitute offerees. The latter were
called senatorial, and the former imperial, provinces. O-
ver the provinces of both sorts were set men of distinc¬
tion, to wit, such as had been consuls or praetors, with
the titles of proconsul and propraetor : but the govern¬
ment of Egypt was committed to a private knight,
Augustus fearing lest a person of rank, depending up¬
on the wealth and situation of that country, might
raise new disturbances in the empire. All these govern¬
ors held their employment only for a year, and were up¬
on the arrival of their successors to depart their pro¬
vinces immediately, and not fail to be at Rome within
three months at the farthest. This division of the pro¬
vinces was made, according to Ovid, on the ides of Ja¬
nuary ; whereas he was vested by the senate and people
with the sovereign power on the seventh of the ides of
the same month, as is manifest from the Narbonne mar¬
bles ; and from that time many writers date the years
of his empire. Thus ended the greatest commonwealth,
and at the same time began the greatest monarchy, that
had ever been known ; a monarchy which infinitely ex¬
celled in power, riches, extent, and continuance, all the
empires which had preceded it. 257
It comprehended the greatest and by far the best part Extent, &c
of Europe, Asia, and Africa, being near 4000 miles in oftheR°-
length, and about half as much in breadth. As to the m.an em*
yearly revenues of the empire, they have by a moderate pire‘
computation been reckoned to amount to forty millions
of our money. But the Romans themselves now ran
headlong into all manner of luxury and effeminacy.
The people were become a mere mob ; those who were
wont to direct mighty wars, to raise and depose great
kings, to bestow or take away potent empires, were so
sunk and debauched, that, if they had but bread and
shows, their ambition went no higher. The nobility
were indeed more polite than in former ages ; hut at
the same time idle, venal, vicious, insensible of private
virtue, utter strangers to public glory or disgrace, void
of zeal f r the welfare of their country, and solely in¬
tent on gaining the favour of the emperor, as knowing
that certain wealth and preferment were the rewards of
ready submission, acquiescence, and flattery. No won¬
der, therefore, that they lost their liberty, without be¬
ing ever again able to retrieve it.
Augustus, now absolute master of the Roman em¬
pire, took all methods to ingratiate himself with his
258
Military
establish'
in ants of
soldiers, by whose means he had attained such a height Augustus
of power. With this view, he dispersed them through
different
ft o M [ 187 ] II o M
H
sb
t,
ki
P;
h
mc- different parts of Italy in 32 colonies, that lie might the
more easily reassemble them on proper occasions. He
kept 23 legions constantly on foot, 17 of which were
in Europe ; viz. eight on the Rhine, four on the Da¬
nube, three in Spain, and two in Dalmatia. The other
eight were sent into <\sia and Africa ; four of them
being quartered in the neighbourhood of the Euphra¬
tes, two in Egypt, and two in Africa Propria, that is,
the ancient dominions of Carthage. All these forces,
amounting to 170,650 men, were constantly kept on
foot by the Roman emperors for several ages. In the
neighbourhood of Rome were always quartered 12 co¬
horts. that is, about 10,000 men; nine of which were
called praetorian cohorts ; the other three, dtp cohorts.
These were established as a guard to the emperor, and
to maintain peace and tranquillity in the city, but had
often a great share in the disturbances which took place
throughout the empire. Besides these, Augustus con¬
stantly kept at sea two powerful navies ; the one riding
at anchor near Ravenna in the Adriatic sea, to command
Dalmatia, Greece, Cyprus, and the rest of the eastern
provinces; the other at Misenum in the Mediterranean,
to keep in awe the western parts of the empire. They
were likewise to keep the seas clear of pirates, to con¬
voy the vessels which brought to Rome the annual tri¬
butes from the provinces beyond sea and to transport
corn and other provisions necessary for the relief and
subsistence of the city. As to the civil government,
Augustus enacted several new laws, and reformed some
of the old ones: however, he affected to do nothing
without the advice of the senate : who were so well
pleased with the complaisance showed them on all oc¬
casions, that to the rest of his tit'es they added that of
Pater Patria;, or “ Father of his Country,1’
And now Augustus having settled all things with
regard to the civil and military establishments of the
empire, turned his arms against the Spanish nations
called the Cantabrians and Asturians, who had never
been fully subdued. The war, however, terminated as
usual, in favour of the Romans; and these brave na¬
tions were forced to receive the yoke, though not with¬
out the most violent resistance on their part, and the
ftmd utmost difficulty on that of the Homans (see Asturia).
■ourted ^ this and his other conquests the name of Augustus
became so celebrated, that his friendship was courted
of by the most distant monarchs Phrahates king of Par-
iia and thia consented to a treaty with him upon his own
terms, and gave him four of his own sons with their
wives and children as hostages for the performance of
the articles ; and as a further instance of his respect, he
delivered up the Roman eagles and other ensigns which
hod been taken from Crassus at the battle of Carrhae.
He received also an embassy from the king of India,
with a letter written in the Greek tongue, in which
the Indian monarch informed him, that “ though he
reigned over 600 kingc, he had so great a value for
the friendship of Augustus, that he had sent this em¬
bassy on so long a journey on purpose to desire it of
him ; that he was ready to meet him at whatsoever
place he pleased to appoint; ..nd that, upon the first
notice, he was ready to a sist him in whatever was
right” This letter he subscribed by the name of Po¬
ms king of India. Of the amhas adors who set cut
from In,da, three < nly reached the presence of Augus¬
tus, who was at that time in the island of Samos, the
others dying by the wTay. Of the three survivors one home,
was named Zarmar, a gymnosophist, who followed the
emperor to Athens, and there burnt himself in his pre¬
sence ; it being customary for the gymnosophists to put
an end to their lives in this manner, when they thought
they had lived long enough, or apprehended some mis¬
fortune. Soon after this the Roman dominions were ex¬
tended southward over the Garamantes, a people whose
country reached as far as the river Niger. All this
time the emperor continued to make new regulations
forthe good of the state ; and among other t hings caused
the Sibylline oracles to be reviewed Many of these he
rejected ; but such as were reckoned authentic, he
earned to be copied by the pontifices themselves, and
lodged them in golden cabinets, which he placed in the
temple of Apollo, built by him in his palace. 26(f
The Roman empire had now extended itself so far, Tlle cni1Pire
that it seemed to have arrived at the limits prescribed the
to it by nature ; and as soon as this was the case, it ern bar-'
began to be attacked by those nations which in pro- barians.
cess of time were to overthrow it. The Germans, by
which name the Romans confounded a great number
of nations dwelling in the northern parts of Europe,
began to make incursions into Gaul. Their first at¬
tempt happened in the year 17 B. C. when they at
first gained an inconsiderable advantage, but were soon
driven back with great loss. Soon after this the Rhse-
ti, who seem to have inhabited the country bordering
on the lake of Constance, invaded Italy, where they
committed dreadful devastations, putting all the males
to the sword without distinction of rank or age; nay,
we are told, that, when women with child happened
to fall into their hands, they consulted their augurs
whether the child was male or female; and if they
pronounced it a male, the mother was immediately
massacred. Against these barbarians Augustus sent
Drusus the second son of the empress Livia; who,
though very young, found means to gain a complete
victory with very little loss on his part. Those who
escaped took the road to Gaul, being joined by the
Vindelici, another nation in the neighbourhood ; but
Tiberius, the elder brother of Drusus, marched against
them, and overthrew them so completely, that the Rha1-
ti, Vindelici, and Norict, three of the most barbarous
nations in those parts, were fain to submit to the plea¬
sure of the emperor. To keep their country in awe,
Tiberius planted two colonies in Vindelicia, opening a
road from thence into Noricum and Rhaetia. One of
the cities which he built for the defence of his colonies
was called Drysomagus; the other, Augusta Vindelico-
mm ; both of which are now known by the names of
Niminghen and Augsburg. ^oi
Augustus, who had long since obtained all the tem- Augustus
poral honours which could well be conferred upon him, created pon-
now began to assume tho>e of the spiritual kind also ; max*-
being in the year 13 B. C. created Pontifex Maxin us; mus'
an office which he continued to hold till his death ; as
did also his successors till the time of Theodosius. By
virtue of this office lie oo recti d a very gross mistake in
the Roman kalendar; for the pontifices, having, forthe
space of 36 years, that is, ever since the reformation hy
Julius Caesar, made every third year a leap year in¬
stead of every fourth, twelve days had be.n inserted in¬
stead of nine, so that the Roman j'eat consisted of three
days more than it ought to have done. These three
A a 2 superfluous
ftome.
WyW
262
Tiberias
succeeds A-
^rippa.
263
Desires
leave to re¬
tire to
lihodes.
261
Is confined
there by
Augustus
for seven
years.
ROM r 1
superfluous days having been thrown out, the form of
the year has ever sinee been regularly observed, and is
still known by the name of the old stijle in use among
us. On this occasion he gave his own name to the
month of August, as Julius Cassar had formerly done
to the month of July.
In the year 11- B. C. Agrippa died, and was suc¬
ceeded in his high employment of governor of Rome
by Tiberius, but, before investing him with this ample
power, the emperor caused him to divorce his wife A-
grippina (who had already brought him a son, and was
then big with child), in order to marry Julia the widow
of Agrippa and daughter of the emperor. Julia was a
princess of an infamous character, as was known to al¬
most every body excepting Augustus himself; however,
Tiberius made no hesitation, through fear of disoblig¬
ing the emperor.
The emperor now sent his two sons Tiberius and
Drusus against the northern nations. Tiberius redu¬
ced the Pannonians, who had attempted to shake off
the yoke after the death of Agrippa. Drusus per¬
formed great exploits in Germany; but while he was
considering whether he should penetrate further into
these northern countries, he w'as seized with a violent
fever, which carried him off in a few days. He was
succeeded in his command by Tiberius, who is report¬
ed to have done great things, but certainly made no
permanent conquests in Germany. However, he was
honoured with a triumph, and had the tribunitial power
for five years conferred uponhim ; which was no sooner
done, than, to the great surprise of Augustus and the
whole city, he desired leave to quit Rome and retire to
Rhodes. Various reasons have been assigned for this
extraordinary resolution : some are of opinion that it
was in order to avoid being an eye-witness of the de¬
baucheries of his wife Julia, who set no bounds to her
lewdness ; though others imagine that he was offend¬
ed at the honours which Augustus had conferred on
his grandchildren, especially at his styling them prin¬
ces of the Roman youth ; which left him no hopes of
enjoying the sovereign power. However, Augustus
positively refused to comply with his request, and his
mother Li via used her utmost endeavours to dissuade
him from his resolution : but Tiberius continued obsti¬
nate ; and, finding all other means ineffectual, at last
shut himself up in his house, where he abstained four
whole days from nourishment. Augustus, perceiving
that he could not get the better of his obstinate and in¬
flexible temper, at last complied with his request. Ti¬
berius soon grew weary of his retirement, and, giving
out that he had left Rome only to avoid giving um¬
brage to the emperor’s two grand-children, desired leave
to return ; but Augustus was so much displeased vith
his having obstinately insisted on leaving Rome, that
he obliged him to remain at Rhodes for seven years
longer. His mother, with much ado got him declared
the emperor’s lieutenant in those parts ; but Tiberius,
dreading the resentment of his father-in-law, continued
to act as a private person during the whole time of
his stay there.
A profound peace now reigned throughout the
whole empire : and in consequence of this the temple
of Janus was shut, which had never before happened
since the time of Numa Pompilius. During this pa¬
cific interval, the Saviour of mankind was born in Ju-
ss ]
II O M
dma, as is recorded in the sacred history, 7-iS years af¬
ter the foundation of Rome by Romulus. Three years
after, Tiberius returned to the city, by permission of
Augustus, who yet would not allow him to bear any
public office ; but in a short time, Lucius Caesar, one
of the emperor’s grandchildren, died, not without su-
spicionsof hisbeing poisonedby Livia, Tiberius show¬
ed such great concern for his death, that the affection
of Augustus for him returned ; and it is said that he
would at that time have adopted Tiberius, had it not
been for giving umbrage to his other grandson Caius
Caesar- This obstacle, however, was soon after re¬
moved ; Caius being taken off also, not without great
suspicions of Livia, as well as in the former case. Au¬
gustus was exceedingly concerned at his death, and
immediately adopted Tiberius as his sen ; but adopted
also Agrippa Posthumius, the third son of the famous
Agrippa; and obliged Tiberius to adopt Germanicus
the son of his brother Drusus, though he had a son of
his own named Drusus ; which was a great mortifica¬
tion to him. As to Agrippa, however, who might
have been an occasion of jealousy, Tiberius was soon
freed from him, by his disgrace and banishment,
which very soon took place, but on what account is
not known.
The northern nations now began to turn formidable :
and though it is pretended that Tiberius was always
successful against them, yet about this time they gave
the Romans a most terrible overthrow : three legions
and six cohorts, under Quintilius Varus, being almo-t
entirely cut in pieces. Augustus set no bounds to his
grief on this fatal occasion. For some months he let
his hair and beard grow, frequently tearing his gar¬
ments, knocking his head against the wall, and crying
out like a distracted person, “ Restore the legions.
Varus !” Tiberius, however, was soon after sent into
Germany ; and for his exploits there he was honour¬
ed with a triumph. Augustus now took him for his
colleague in the sovereignty ; after which he sent Ger-
manieus against the northern barbarians, and Tiberius
into Illyricum. This was the last of his public acts ;
for having accompanied Tiberius for part of his jour¬
ney, he died at Nola in Campania, in the 76th year of
his age, and 56th of his reign. Livia was suspected
of having hastened his death by giving him poisoned
figs. Her reason for this was, that she feared a recon¬
ciliation between him and his grandson Agrippa, whom
he had banished, as we have already related. Some
months before, the emperor had paid a visit to Agrip¬
pa, unknown to Livia, Tiberius, or any other person,
excepting one Fabius Maximus. This man, on his re¬
turn home, discovered the secret to his wife, and she to
the empress. Augustus then perceiving that Fabius
had betrayed him, was so provoked, that he banished
him from his presence for ever ; upon which the un¬
fortunate Fabius, unable to survive his disgrace, laid
violent bands on himself.
Tiberius, who succeeded to the empire, resolved to
secure himself on the throne by the murder of Agrippa;
whom accordingly he caused to be put to death by a
military tribune. Though this might have been a suf¬
ficient evidence of what the Romans had to expect,
the death of Angus'us was no sooner known, than the
consuls, senators, and knights, to use the expression of
Tacitus, ran headlong into slaverv. The two consuls
firA
Roms
G65
Birth of
Christ
‘ 266
August
adopts '
berius a
his son.
267
Death
August?;
« e
E 0 M
[ 139 ]
E 0 M
it of Ti
fe 15.
rie. first took an oath of fidelity to the emperor, and then
■vw administered it to the senate, the people, and the sol-
68 diery. Tiberius behaved in a dark mysterious man-
p inula- lier^ taking care to rule with an absolute sway, but at
the same time seeming to hesitate whether he should
accept the sovereign power or not; insomuch that one
of the senators took the liberty to tell him, that other
men were slow in performing what, they had promised,
buthe wTas slow in promising what he had already per¬
formed. At last, however, his modesty was overcome,
and he declared his acceptance of the sovereignty in the
following Avords : “ I accept the empire, and will hold
it, till such time as you, conscript fathers, in your
great prudence, shall think proper to give repose to my
old age.”
Tiberius had scarcely taken possession of the throne,
when news were brought him that the armies in Pan-
nonia and Germany had mutinied. In Pannonia three
legions having been allowed some days of relaxation
from their usual duties, either to mourn fi.r the death
of Augustus, or ta rejoice for the accession of Tiberius,
grew turbulent and seditious. The Pannonian muti¬
neers were headed by one Percennius, a common sol¬
dier ; who, before he served in the army, had made it
his whole business to form parties in the theatres and
playhouses to hiss or applaud such actors as he liked or
disliked. Inflamed by the speeches of this man, they
openly revolted ; and though Tiberius himself wrote to
them, and sent his son Drusus to endeavour to quell the
tumult, theymassacred some of their officers, and insult¬
ed othei-s, till at last, being frightened by an eclipse of
the moon, they began to show some signs of repentance.
Of this favourable disposition Drusus took advantage;
and even got the ringleaders of the revolt condemned
and executed. Immediately after this they were again
terrified by such violent storms and dreadful rains, that
they quietly submitted, and every thing in that quarter
was restored to tranquillity.
The revolt of the German legions threatened much
more danger, as they were more numerous than those
of Pannonia. They proceeded nearly in the same way
as the Pannonian legions, falling upon their officers,
especially the centurions, ami beating them till they
almost expired, drove them out of the camp, and
some of them were even thrown into the Rhine. Ger-
manicus, who was at that time in Gaul, hastened to
the camp on the first news of the disturbance ; but be¬
ing unable to prevail on them to return to their duty, he
Avas obliged to feign letters from Tiberius, granting all
their demands. These were. That all those who had
served 20 years should be discharged ; that such as had
served 16 should be deemed veterans; and that some
legacies which had beenlefc them4>y Augustus should
not only be paid in.mediately, but doubled. This last
article he was obliged to discharge without delay out
of the money which he and his friends had brought to
defray the expences of their journey ; and on receiving
it, the troops quietly retired to their winter-quarters.
But, in the mean time, some deputies .sent either by
Tiberius or the senate, probably to quell the sedition,
occasioned fresh disturbances; for the legionaries, ta¬
king it into their heads that these deputies Avere come
to revoke the concessions which Germanieus had made,
vere with difficulty prevented from tearing them in
pieces; and, notwithstanding the utmost endeavours of
Germanicus, behaved in such an outrageous manner, Rome,
that the general thought proper to send off his wife A-
grippina, Avith her infant «on Claudius, she herself at
the same time being big with child. As she was attend¬
ed by many women of distinction, wives of the chief of¬
ficers in the camp, their tears and lamentations in part¬
ing with their husbands occasioned a great uproar, and
drew together the soldiers from all quarters. A new
scene ensued, which made an impression even upon the
most obstinate. They could not behold, without shame
and compassion, so many women of rank travelling thus
forlorn, Avithout a centurion to attend them, or a sol¬
dier to guard them ; and their general’s wife among the
rest, carrying her infant child in her arms, and preparing
to fly for shelter against the treachery of the Roman
legions. This made such a deep impression on the
minds of many of them, that some ran to stop her,
Avhile the rest recurred to Germanicus, earnestly in¬
treating him to recal his wife, and to prevent her from
being obliged to seek a sanctuary among foreigners.
The general improved this favourable disposition, and
in a short time they of their own accord seized and
massacred the ringleaders of the revolt. Still, how¬
ever, two of the legions continued in their disodedi-
ence. Against them therefore Germanicus determined
to lead those who had returned to their duty. With
this view he prepared vessels; but before he embarked
his troops, he wrote a letter to Caecina who com¬
manded them, acquainting him that he approached
Avith a powerful army, resolved to put them all to the
sword without distinction, if they did not prevent him
by taking vengeance on the guilty themselves. This
letter, Caecina communicated only to the chief officers
and such of the soldiers as had all along disapproved of
the revolt, exhorting them at the same time to enter
into an association against the seditious, and put to the
sword such as had involved them in the present ignomi- 570
ny and guilt. This proposal was approved of, and a The revolt
cruel massacre immediately took place; insomuch that <lu(ellec^by
when Germanicus came to the camp, he found the
greatest part of the legions destroyed. This greatly af¬
fected the humane Germanicus, who caused the bodies
of the slain to be burnt, and celebrated their obsequies
with the usual solemnities ; however, the sedition was
thus effectually quelled, after which he led his army in¬
to Germany. There he performed many great ex¬
ploits * ; but still all that he could perform was far from
freeing the empire fromsodangerous andtroublesomean manj.
enemy. In the year 19, he died, of poison, as was sup¬
posed, given by Piso, his partner in the government of
Syria, to which Germanicus had been promoted after his
return from the north.
In the mean time, Tiberius, though he affected to
court the favour of the people by various methods,
yet showed himself in general such a cruel and blood¬
thirsty tyrant, that he became the object .f universal
abhorrence. Though he had hated Germanicus in his
heart, he punished Piso Avith death; but in about a
year after the death of Germanicus, having hoav
a dreadful
massacre.
Ss> Cer-
no
_ 27 J
Tiberius
object of jealousy to keep him in awe, he began to ram. y *
pull off the mask, and appear more in his natural cha*
racter than before. He took upon himself the inter¬
pretation of ail political measures, and began daily.to
diminish the authority of the senate; which design
was much facilitated, by their own aptitude to sla¬
very ;
Some.
272
Rise of
Sejanus a
wicked mi
Ulster.
273
His infa¬
mous con¬
duct.
Ji 0 M [ 190 ] BOM
very; so that he despised their meanness, while he
enjoyed its effects. A law at that time subsisted,
•which made it treason to form any injurious attempt
against the mtjesty of the people. Tiberius assumed
to himself the interpretation and enforcement of this
law ; and extended it not only to the cases which really
affected the safety of the state, but to every conjunc¬
ture that could possibly be favourable to hifi hatred or
suspicions. All freedom was now therefore banished
from convivial meetings, and diffidence reigned amongst
the dearest relations. The law of offended majesty
being revived, many persons of distinction fell a sacri¬
fice to it.
In the beginning of these cruelties, Tiberius took
into his confidence Sejanus, a Roman knight, but by
birth a Volscian, who found out the method of gain¬
ing his confidence, by the mo-t refined degree of dis¬
simulation, being an overmatch for his master in his
own aits. He was made by the emperor captain of
the praetorian guards, one ot the most confidential trusts
in the state and extolled in the senate as a worthy
associate in his labours. The servile senators, with
ready adulation, »et up the statues of the favourite be¬
side those of Tilurius, and •seemed eager to pay him
similar honours. It is not well known whether he was
the adviser of all the cruelties that ensued soon after;
hut certain it is, that, from the beginning of his
mini-try, Tiberius seemed to become more fatally su¬
spicious.
It was from such humble beginnings that this mini¬
ster even ventured to aspire at the throne, and wa-s re¬
solved to make the emperor’s foolish confidence one of
the fir-t steps to his ruin. However, he considered that
cutting off Tiberius alone would rather retard than pro¬
mote his designs.while his son Drusus, and the children
of Germanicus were yet remaining. He therefore be¬
gan by corrupting l.ivia, the wife of Drusus ; whom,
after having debauched her, he prevailed upon to poi on
her husband. This was effected by means of a slow
poison (as we are told), which gave his death the ap¬
pearance of a casual distemper. Tiberius, in the mean
time, either naturally phlegmatic, or at least mt much
regarding his son, bore his death with great tranquil¬
lity. He was even heard to jest upon the occasion ; for
when the ambassadors from Troy came somewhat late
with their Compliment; of condolence, he answered their
pretended distresses, by condoling with them also upon
the death of Hector.
Sejanus having succeeded in this, was resolved to
make his next attempt upon the children of Germani-
cus, who were undoubted successors to the empire.
However, he wa> frustrated in his designs, both with
regard to the fidelity of their c overnors, and the chas¬
tity of Agrippina their mother. Whereupon he resolv¬
ed upon changing his aims, and removing Tiberius out
of the city; by which means he expected more ft equent
opportunities of putting his designs into execution. He
therefore used all his addressto persuade Tiberius to re¬
tire to some agreeable retreat, remote from Rome. By
tins he expected many advantages, since there could be
no access to the emperor but by him. Thu- ait lette s
being conveyed to the prince by soldiers at his own de¬
votion, they would pass through his hands; by which
means he must in time became the so e governor of the
empire, anti at last be in a capacity of removing all ob¬
stacles to his ambition. He now therefore began to in- Ro,
sinuate to Tiberius the great and numerous inconveni- w ^
ences of the city, the fatigues of attending the senate,
and the seditious temperof the inferior citizensof Rome. I
Tiberius, either prevailed upon by bis persuasions, or Tiber
pursuing the natural turn of his temper, which led to in- tires i,
dolence and debauchery, in the twelfth year of his reign Itoms}
left Rome, and went into Campania, under pretence of
dedicating temples to Jupiter and Augustus. After
this, though he removed to several places, he never re¬
turned to Rome ; but spent the greatest part of his time
in the island of Caprea, a place which was rendered as
infamous by his pleasures as detestable by his cruelties,
which were shocking to human nature. Euriedin this
retreat, he gave himself upto his pleasures, quite regard¬
less of the miseries of his subjects. Thus an insurrection
of the Jews, upon placing his statue in Jerusalem, under
the government of Pontius Pilate, gave him no sort of
uneasiness. The falling of an amphitheatre at Fidenae,
in which 50,000 persons were either killed or wounded,
no way affected his repose. He was only employed in
studying how to vary his odious pleasures, and forcing
his feeble frame, shatt< reil by age and former debauch¬
eries, into the enjoyment of them. Nothing can present
a more Iron id pictu e than the retreat of this impure
old man, attended by all the ministers of his perverted
appetites. He was at this time 67 years old ; his per¬
son was most displeasing; and somesay thedisagreeable-
r ess of it, in a g eat measure, drove him into retirement.
He was quite bald before ; his face was all broke out
into ulcers, and covered over with plasters ; his body
was bowed forward, v. hile its extreme height and lean- ?
ness increased its deformity. With such a person, and His hidn
amind still more hideous, beinggloomy, suspicious,and naWe :1;
cruel, he sat down with a view rather of forcing his ap- duct 1 liri
petites than satisfying them. He spent whole nights in
debauchei ies at the table ; and he appointed Pomponius
Flaccus and Lucius Piso to the first posts of the empire,
for no other merit than that of having sat up with him
two days and two nights without interruption. These
he calleo his friendsofall houis. He made one Novelius
Torgnatus a praetor for being able to drink off five bot¬
tles of wine at a draught. H*s luxuries of another kind
were s'ill more detestable, anti seemed to increase with
his drunkenness and gluttony. He made the most emi¬
nent women of IP me subservient to his lusts; andallhis
inventions only seemed calculated how to make his vices
more extravagant and abominable. The number’ess ob¬
scene medals dug up in that island at this day bear wit¬
ness at once to his shame, and the verac iy of the histo¬
rians who have described his debaucheries. In short, in
this retreat, which was surrounded with rocks on every
side, he quite gave up the business of the empire ; or, if
he was ever active, it was only to do mischief. But,
from the tin e of his retreat, he became more cruel, and
Sejanus always endeavoured to increase his distrusts.
Secret spies and informers wrere placed in all parfs of
the city, who convened the most harmless actions into
subjects of offence. If any person of merit testified -my
ci ncern for the glory of the empire, it v a- immediately
constx-ued intoa design to (ibtain it. If another "poke •
with regret of former liberty, he was supposed to aim
at re-t tablishing the commonwealth. F.vcy actum
became liable to forced interpr tations; joy exp: e.-std an
hope of the prince’s death; melancholy, an envying of
E O M
[ 191 ]
E O M
me.
V y-w'
re
T!
of
ii ani-
u at to
hi> prosperity. Sejanus found his aim every day suc¬
ceeding; the wretched etnperor’s terrors were an in¬
stalment that he wrought up'>n at his pleasure, and by
which he leve led every obstacle to his designs But
the chief objec s of his jeal uisy were the children of
Germanicus, whom he resolved to put out of the way.
He therefore continued to render them obnoxious to the
emperor, to alarm him with false reports of their ambi¬
tion, and to terrify them with alarms of his intended
cruelty. By these means, he s > contrived to widen the
breach, that he actually produced on both si es tho-e
dispositions which he pretended to obviate; tiil a; length,
the two princes Nero and Drums were declared ene¬
mies to the state, and afterwards starved to death in
prison; while Agrippina their mother was sent into ba¬
nishment.
In this manner Sejanus proceeded, removing all who
stood between him and the empire, and every day in¬
creasing in confidence with Tiberius, and power with
the senate. The number of his statues exceeded even
those of the emperor; people swore by his fortune, in the
same manner as they would have done had he been ac¬
tually upon the throne, and he was more dreaded than
even the tyrant who actually enjoyed the empire. But
the rapidity of his rise seemed only preparatory to the
greatness of his downfall. All we know of his fir-t dis¬
grace with the emperor is, that Satrius Secundus was
the man who had the bohiness to accuse him. Anto¬
nia, the mother of Germanicus, seconded the accusation.
Whatwere the particulars of his crimes, we cannot learn;
but certain it is, that he attempted to usurp the empire,
by aiming at the life of Tiberius. He was very near
dispatching him, when his practices wrerediscovered, and
his own life was substituted for that against which he
aimed. Tiberius, sensible of the traitor's power, pro¬
ceeded with his usual dissimulation in having him appre¬
hended. He granted him new honours at the very time
he resolved his death, and took him as his colleague in
the consulship. The emperor’s letter to the senate be¬
gan only with slight complaints against his friend, but
ended with an order for putting him in prison. He in-
treated the senators to protect a poor old man, as he was,
abandoned by all; and, in the mean time, prepared
ships for his flight, and ordered soldiers for his security.
The senate, who had been long jealous of the favourite’s
H power, and dreaded his cruelty, immediately took this
is dis- opportunity of going beyond their orders. Instead of
l and sentencing him to imprisonment, they directed his exe¬
cution. A strange revolution now appeared in the city;
of those numbers that but a moment before were pressing
into the presence of Sejanus, with offers of service and
adulation, not one was found that would seem to be of
his acquaintance : he was deserted by all; and those
who had formerly received the greatest benefits from
him, seemed now converted into his most inveterate ene¬
mies. As he was conducting to execution, the people
loaded him with insult and execration. He attempted ;
to hide his face with his hands; hut even this was de¬
fied him, and his hands were secured. Nor did the
rage of his enemies subside with his death ; his body
was ignominiously dragged about the streets, and. his
whole family executed with him.
His death only lighted up the emperor’s rage for fur¬
ther executions. The prisons were crowded with pre¬
tended accomplices in the conspiracy of Sejanus, Tn
Rome.'.
berius began to grow weary of particular executions;
he therefore g ve orders that all the accused should he s—^v^wt'
put to death together without further examination. Of*.
20 senators, whom he chose for his council, he put 1 dcrueltyof *
to de.nth. “ Let them hate me (cried he) so long as Tiberius,
they obey me.” He then averred, that Priam was a
happy man, who outlived all his posterity. In this
manner there was not a day without some barbarous
execution, in which the sufferers were obliged to under¬
go the most shameful indignities and exquisite torments.
When one Camillus had killed himself to avoid the tor¬
ture : “ Ah (cried Tiberius), how that man has been
able to escape me!” When a prisoner earnestly in-
treated that he would not deter his death : “ No (cried
the tyrant), I am not sufficiently your friend, to shorten
your torment.” He often satisfied his eyes with the
tortures of the wretches that were put to death before
him ; and in the days of Suetonius the rock was to be
seen, from which he ordered such as had displeased him
to be thrown headlong. As he was one day examining
some persons upon the rack, he was told that an old
friend of his wras come from Rhodes to see him. Ti¬
berius supposing him brought for the purpose of infor¬
mation, immediately ordered him to the torture; and
when he was convinced of his mistake, he ordered him
to be put to death, to prevent farther discovery.
In this manner did the tyrant continue to torment
others, although he was himself still more tortured by
his own suspicions ; so that in one of his letters to the
senate, he confessed that the gods and godesses had so
afflicted and confounded him, that he knew not what or
how to write. In the mean time, the frontier provinces
were invaded with impunity by the bai'barians. Maesia
was seized on by the Dacians and Sarmatians; Gaul
was wasted by the Germans, and Armenia conquered
by the king of Parihia. Tiberius, however, was so
much a slave to his brutal appetites, that he left his pro¬
vinces wholly to the care of his lieutenants, and they
were intent rather on the accumulation of private for¬
tune than the safety of the state. Such a total disorder
in the empire produced such a degree of anxiety in him
who governed it, that he was heard to wish, that heaven
and earth might perish when he died. At length, how¬
ever, in the 22d year of his reign, he began to feel the
approaches of his dissolution, and all his appetites totally
to forsake him. He now, therefore, found it was time
to think of a successor, and hesitated for a long while,
whether he should choose Caligula, whose vices were
t( o apparent to escape his observation. He had been
often heard to say, that this youth had all the faults of
Sylla, without his virtues ; that he was a serpent that
would sting the empire, and a Phaeton that would set
the world in a flame. However, notwithstanding all ^
his well-grounded apprehensions, he named him for his chooses
successor ; willing, perhaps, by the enormity of Caligu- Caligula for
la’s conriuct to cover the memory of his own. his succes-
But though he thought fit to choose a successor, he sor*
concealed his approaching decline with the utmost care,
as if he was willing at once to hide it from the world
and himself. He long had a contempt for physic, and
refused the advice of such as attended him ; he even,
seemed to take a pleasure in being present at the sports
of the soldiers, and ventured himself to throw a javelin
at a boar that was let loo^ before him. The effort
which he made upon this occasion caused a pain in his
side,,
i
Kmnft.
E 0 M [ 19
side, which hastened the approaches of death: how¬
ever, he seemed willing to avoid his end ; and strove,
by change of place, to put off the inquietude of his own
reflections. He left his favourite island, and went upon
the continent, where he at last fixed at the promontory
of Misenum. It was here that Charicles, his physician,
pretended to kiss his hand, felt the failure of his pulse;
and apprised Macro, the emperor’s present favourite,
that he had not above two days to live. Tiberius, on
the contrary, who had perceived the art of Charicles,
did all in his power to impress his attendants with an
opinion of his health : he continued at table till the
evening; he saluted all his guests as they left the room,
and read the acts of the senate, in which they had ab¬
solved some persons he had written against with great
indignation. He resolved to take signal vengeance of
their disobedience, and meditated new schemes of cruel¬
ty, when he fellinto such faintings, as all believed were
fatal. It was in this situation, that, by Macro’s advice,
Caligula prepared to secure the succession. He received
the congratulations of the whole court, caused himself
to he acknowledged by the Praetorian soldiers, and went
forth from the emperor’s apartment amidst the applauses
of the multitude : when all of a sudden he was inform¬
ed that the emperor was recovered, that he had begun
to speak, and desired to eat. This unexpected account
filled the whole court with terror and alarm : every one
who had before been earnest in testifying their joy, now
re-assumed their pretended sorrow, and left the new em¬
peror, through a feigned solicitude for the fate of the
old. Cal.gula himself seemed thunderstruck ; he pre¬
served a gloomy silence, expecting nothing but death,
instead of the empire at which he had aspired. Macro,
however, who was hardened in crimes, ordered that the
dying emperor should be dispatched, by smothering him
with pillows, or, as others will have it, by poison. In
this manner Tiberius died, in the 78th year of his age,
after reigning 22.
of°theP«o”S Tko Romans w'ere, at this time, arrived at their high,
mans at this est Pltc^ :°f effeminacy and vice. The wealth of almost
time. every nation of the empire, having, for some time, cir¬
culated through The city, brought with it the luxuries
peculiar to each country; so that Rome presented a de¬
testable picture of various pollution. In this reign lived
Apieius, so well known for having reduced gluttony in¬
to a system ; some of the most notorious in this wray,
thought it no-shame to give near 100 pounds for a single
fish, and exhaust a fortune of 50,000 pounds in one en¬
tertainment. Debaucheries of every other kind kept
pace with this; while the detestable folly of the times
thought it was refining upon pleasure to make it unna¬
tural. I here Were at Rome men called Spintrue, whose
sole trade it was to study new modes of pleasure; and
these w'ere universally favourites of the great. The se¬
nators had long fallen from their authority, and were
no less estranged from their integrity and honour. Their
whole study seemed to be, how to invent new ways of
flattering the emperor, and various methods of torment¬
ing his supposed enemies. The people were still more
corrupt: they had, for some years, been accustomed to
live in idleness, upon the donations of the emperor;
and, being satisfied w ith subsistence, entirely gave up
their freedom. Too effeminate and cowardly to go to
Avar, they only railed against their governors; so that
t»H‘y were bad soldiers and seditious citizens. In. the
2 ] ROM
18th year of this monarch’s reign, Christ vras crucified, licr&e,
•Shortly after his death, Pilate is said to have written to
Tiberius an account of his passion, resurrection, and 281
miracles; upon winch the emperor made a report of Hristou.
the whole to the senate, desired that Christ might be C1^
accounted a god by the Romans. But the senate be¬
ing displeased that the proposal had not come first from
themselves, refused to allow of his apotheosis; alleging
an ancient law, which gave them the superintendance
in all matters of religion. Thejr even went so far, as
by an edict to command that all Christians should
leave the city: but Tiberius, by another edict, threa¬
tened death to all such as should accuse them; by which
means they continued unmolested during the rest of his
reign.
No monarch ever came to the throne with more ad¬
vantages than Caligula. He Avas the son of Germani-
cus, v\ ho had been the darling of the army and the
people. He was bred among the soldiers, from whom
lie received the name of Caligula, from the short bus¬
kin, called caliga, that w as w orn by the common cen-
tinels, and which was also usually worn by him. As
he approached Rome, the principal men of the stats
Went out in crowxls to meet him. He received the
congratulations of the people on every side, all equally
pleased in being free from the cruelties of Tiberius,
and in hoping ucav advantages from the virtues of his
successor.
Caligula eeemed to take every precaution to impress
them with the opinion of a happy change. Amidst the
rejoicings of the multitude, he advanced mourning, with
the dead body of Tiberius, which the soldiers brought
to be burnt at Rome, according to the custom of that
time. Upon his entrance into the city, he w as received
with new titles of honour by the senate, whose chief
employment seemed now to be, the art of increasing
their emperor’s vanity. He was left co-heir with Ge¬
mellus, grandson to Tiberius; but they set aside the no¬
mination, and declared Caligula sole successor to tlir
empire. The joy for this election was not confined to
the narrow bounds of Italy; it spread through the
whole empire, and victims without number wrere sacri¬
ficed upon the occasion. Some of the people, upon
his going into Campania, made vows for his return;
and shortly after, when he fell sick, the multitudes
crowded Avhole nights round his palace, and some even
devoted themselves to death in case lie recovered, set¬
ting up bills of their resolutions in the streets. In this
affection of the citizens, strangers themselves, seemed am¬
bitious of sharing. Artabanus, king of Parthia, sought
the emperor’s alliance with assiduity. He came to a
personal conference w ith one of his legates ; passed the
Euphrates, adorned the Roman eagles, and kissed the
emperor’s images; so th t the whole world seemed com¬
bined to praise him for virtues which they supposed him
to jwissess. JM
The new emperor at first seemed extremely careful of Caligul*
the public favour; and having performed the funeral so- bePnslJ
lemnitiesof Tiberius, he hastened to the islands of Pan- relgn
dataria and 'Pontia, to remove the ashes of his mother
ami brothers, exposing himself to the dangers of tempes¬
tuous weather, to give a lustre to his piety. Having
brought them to Rome, he instituted annual solemnities
in their honour, and ordered the month of September
to .be called Gcrmamcus* in memory of his father.
Ihese
It 0 M [ 193 J It 0 M
,f 'ti>ine. These ceremonies being over, he conferred the same ho-
nours upon his grandmother Antonia, which had before
been given to Livia; and ordered all informations to be
burnt, that any ways exposed the enemies of his family.
He even refused a paper that was offered him, tending
to the discovery of a conspiracy against him ; alleging.
That he was conscious of nothing to deserve any man’s
hatred, and therefore had no fears from their machina¬
tions. He caused the institutions of Augustus, which
had been disused in the reign of Tiberius, to be revived;
undertook to reform many abuses in the state, and se¬
verely punished corrupt governors. Among others, he
banished Pontius Pilate into Gaul, "where this unjust
magistrate afterwards put an end to his life by suicide.
He banished the spintriae, or inventors of abominable re¬
creations, from Rome ; attempted to restore the ancient
manner of electing magistrates by the suffrages of the
people ; and gave them a free jurisdiction, Avithout any
appeal to himself. Although the will of Tiberius was
annulled by the senate, and that of Livia suppressed by
Tiberius, yet he caused all their legacies to be punc¬
tually paid; and in order to make Gemellus amends
for missing the crown, he caused him to be electedPrin-
eeps Juventutis, or principal of the youth. He restored
some kings to their dominions Avho had been unjustly
dispossessed by Tiberius, and gave them the arrears of
their revenues. And, that he might appear an encou-
rager of every virtue, he ordered a female slave a large
sum of money for enduring the most exquisite torments
without discovering the secrets of her master. So many
concessions, and such apparent virtue, could not fail of
receiving just applause. A shield of gold, bearing his
image, was decreed to be carried annually to the Capi¬
tol, attended by the senate and the sons of the nobility
singing in praise of the emperor’s virtues. It was like¬
wise ordained, that the day on which he was appointed
to the empire should be called Pubitia ; implying, that
when he came to govern, the city received a new foun-
ijgg dation.
I be- In less than eight months all this shew of moderation
c es a and clemency vanished ; while furious passions, unex-
i ^toutra- amp]e({ avarice, and capricious cruelty, began to take
, y‘ their turn in his mind. As most of the cruelties of Ti¬
berius arose from suspicion, so most of those committed
by Caligula took rise from prodigality. Some indeed
assert, that a disorder Avhich happened soon after his ac¬
cession to the empire, entirely discomposed his under¬
standing. However this may be, madness itself could
scarcely dictate cruelties more extravagant, or inconsist¬
encies more ridiculous*, than are imputed to him ; some
of them appear almost beyond belief, as they seem en¬
tirely without any motive to incite such barbarities.
The first object of his cruelty wras a person named
PolituSy Avno had devoted himself to death, in case the
emperor, who Avas then sick, should recover. When
Caligula’s health was re-established, he was informed of
the zeal of bolitus, and actually compelled him to com-
pl te his voav. This i-idiculous devotee ivas therefore
led round the city, by children, adorned with chaplets,
and then put to death, being thrown headlong from the
rampaits. Another, named Sccundus, had vowed to
fight in the amphitheatre upon the same occasion. To
this he was also compelled, the emperor himself choosing
to be a spectator of the combat. HoAvever, he was
more fortunate than the former, being so successful as
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
to kill his adversary, by which he obtained a release
from his vow. Gemellus Avas the next who suffered
from the tyrant’s inhumanity. The pretence against
him was, that he had wished the emperor might not re¬
cover, and that he had taken a counter poison to secure
him from any secret attempts against his life. Caligula
ordered him to kill himself; but as the unfortunate
youth Avas ignorant of the manner of doing it, the em¬
peror’s messenger soon instructed him in the fatal lesson.
Silenus, the emperor’s father-in-law, was the next that
Avas put to death upon slight suspicions ; and Gercinus,
a senator of noted integrity, refusing to Avitness falsely
against him, shared his fate. After these folloAved a
crowd of victims to the emperor’s avarice or suspicion.
The pretext against them Avas their enmity to his fami¬
ly ; and in proof of his accusations he produced those
very memorials which but a while before he pretended
to have burnt. Among the number of those Avho were
sacrificed to his jealousy, Avas Macro, the late favour¬
ite of Tiberius, and the person to whom Caligula OAved
his empire. He was accused of many crimes, some
of which were common to the emperor as well as to
him, and his death brought on the ruin of his whole
family.
These cruelties, hoAvever, only seemed the first fruits
of a mind naturally timid and suspicious: his vanity and
profusion soon gave rise to others which were more atro¬
cious, as they sprung from less powerful motives. His
pride first began byassumingto himself the title of ruler,
Avhich was usually granted only to kings. He would
also have taken the crown and diadem, had he not been
advised that he Avas already superior to all the monarchs
of the world. Not long after, he assumed divine ho¬
nours, and gave himself the names of such divinities as
he thought most agreeable to his nature. For this pur¬
pose he caused the heads of the statues of Jupiter and
some other gods to be struck off, and his own to be put
in their places. He frequently seated himself between
Castor and Pollux, and ordered all who came to their
temple to worship, should pay their adorations only to
him; nay at last he altered their temple to the form
of a portico, which he joined to his palace, that the
very gods, as he said, might serve him in the quality of
porters.
He was not less notorious for the depravation of his
appetites than for his ridiculous presumptions. Neither
person, place, nor sex, Avere obstacles to the indulgence
of his unnatural lusts. There Avas scarcely a lady of
any quality in Rome that escaped his lewdness; and,
indeed, such was the degeneracy of the times, that there
Avere few ladies Avho did not think this disgrace an ho¬
nour. Fie committed incest Avith his three sisters, and
at public feasts they lay with their heads upon his bosom,
by turns. Of these he prostituted Livia and Agrippina
to his vile companions, and then banished them as adul-
tresses and conspirators against his person. As for Dru-
silla, he took her from her husband Longinus, and kept
her as his wife. Her he loved so atiectionately, that,
being sick, he appointed her as heiress of his empire
and fortune; and she happening to die before him, he
made her a goddess. Nor did her example when living,
appear more dangerous to the people than her divinity
Avhen dead. To mourn for her death Avas a crime, as
she was become a goddess ; and to rejoice for her divi¬
nity was capital, because she was dead. Nay, even si-
F B b lence
Roma,
Home.
 ,-W
R 0 M [ 594 ] R 0 M
lence itself was an unpardonable insensibility, either of
the emperor’s loss or his sister’s advancement. Thus he
made his sister subservient to his profit, as before he had
done to his pleasure; rasing vast sums of money by
granting pardons to some, and by confiscating the goods
of others. As to his marriages, whether he contracted
them with greater levity, or dissolved them with great¬
er injustice, is not easy to determine. Being pi-esent at
the nuptials of Livia Orestilla with Piso, as soon as the
solemnity was over, he commanded her to be brought
to him as his own wife, and then dismissed her in a few
days. He soon after banished her upon suspicion of co¬
habiting with her husband after she was parted from
him. He was enamoured of Lollia Paulina, upon a
bare relation of her grandmother’s beauty ; and there¬
upon took her from her husband, who commanded
in Macedonia : notwithstanding which, he repudiated
her as he had done the former, and likewise forbade her
future marrying with any other. The wife who caught
most firmly upon his affections was Milonia Csesonia,
whose chief merit lay in her perfect acquaintance with
all the alluring arts of her sex, for she was otherwise
possessed neither of youth nor beauty. Sfte continued
with him during his reign; and he loved her so ridicu¬
lously, that he sometimes showedher to his soldiers dres¬
sed in armour, and sometimes to his companions stark
naked.
But of all his vices, his prodigality was the most re¬
markable, and that which in some measure gave rise to
the rest. The luxuries of former emperors were simpli¬
city itself, when compared to those which he practised.
He contrived new ways of bathing, where the richest
oils and most precious perfumeswere exhaustedwith the
utmost profusion. He found out dishes of immense va¬
lue ; and had even jewels, as we are told, dissolved
among his sauces. He sometimes had services of pure
gold presented before his guests instead of meat; obser¬
ving, that a man should be an economist or an em¬
peror.
For several days together he flung considerable sums
of money among the people. He ordered ships of a
prodigious bulk to be built of cedar, the stems of ivory
inlaid with gold and jewels, the sails and tackling of
various silks, while the decks were planted with the
choicest fruit trees, under the shade of which he often
dined. Here, attended by all the ministers of his plea¬
sures, the most exquisite singers, and the most beauti-
iul youths, he coasted along the shore of Campania with
great splendour. All his buildings seemed rather calcu¬
lated to raise astonishment, than to answer the purposes
of utility. But the most notorious instance of his fruit¬
less profusion was the vast bridge at Puteoli, which he
undertook in the third year of his reign. To satisfy his
desire of being master as well of the ocean as the land,
he caused an infinite number of ships to be fastened to
each other, so as to make a floating bridge from Bairn
to Puteoli, across an arm of the sea three miles and a
half broad. The ships being placed in two rows in
form.of a crescent, were secured to each other with
anchors, chains, and cables. Over these were laid vast
quantities of timber, and upon that earth, so as to make
the whole resemble one of the streets of Rome. He
next caused several houses to be built upon his new
bridge, for the reception of himself and his attendants,
into.which fresh water was conveyed by pipes from land.
He then repaired thither with all his court, attended by Rome,
prodigious throngs of people, who came from all parts Wy-.
to be spectators of such an expensive pageant. It was
there that Caligula, adorned with all the magnificence
of eastern royalty, sitting on horseback with a civic
crown and Alexander’s breastplate, attended by the
great officers of the army, and all the nobility of Rome,
entered at one end of the bridge, and with ridiculous
importance rode to the other. At night, the number
of torches and other illuminations with which this ex¬
pensive structure was adorned, cast such a gleam as illu¬
minated the whole bay, and all the neighbouring moun¬
tains. This seemed to give the weak emperor new
cause for exultation ; boasting that he had turned night
into day, as well as sea into land. The next morning he
again rode over in a triumphal chariot, followed by a
numerous train of charioteers, and all his soldiers in
glittering armour. He then ascended a rostrum erected
for the occasion, where he made a solemn oration in
praise of the gi’eatness of hisenterprise,and the assiduity
of his workmen and his army. He then distributed re¬
wards among his men, and a splendid feast succeeded.
In the midst of the entertainment many of his attend¬
ants were thrown into the sea ; several ships filled with
spectators were attacked and sunk in an hostile manner :
and although the majority escapedthrough the calmness
of the weather, yet many were drowned ; and some
who endeavoured to save themselves by climbing to the
bridge, wrere struck down again by the emperor’s com¬
mand. The calmness of the sea during this pageant,
which continued for two days, furnished Caligula with
fresh opportunities for boasting ; being heard to say,
“ that Neptune took care to keep the sea smooth and se¬
rene, merely out of reverence to him.”
Expences like these, it may be naturally supposed,
must have exhausted the most unbounded wealth : in
fact, after reigning about a year, Caligula found his re¬
venues totally exhausted ; and a fortune of about
18,000,000 of our money, which Tiberius had amas¬
sed together, entirely spent in extravagance and folly.
Now, therefore, his prodigality put him upon new me¬
thods of supplyingthe exchequer; andas before his pro¬
fusion, so now his rapacity became boundless. He put
in practice all kinds of rapine and extortion ; while his
principal study seemed to be the inventing new imposts
and illicit confiscations. Every thing was taxed, to the
very wages of the meanest tradesman. He caused free¬
men to purchase their freedom a second time ; and poi¬
soned many who had named him for their heir, to have
the immediate possession of their fortunes. He set up a
brothel in his own palace, by which he gained consider¬
able sums by all the methods of prostitution. He also
kept a gaming-house, in which he himself presided,
scrupling none of the meanest tricks in order to advance
his gains. On a certain occasion having had a run of
ill luck, he saw twro rich knights passing through his
court; upon which lie suddenly rose up, and causing
both to be apprehended, confiscated their estates, and
then joining his former companions, boasted that he ne¬
ver had a better throw in his life. Another time, want¬
ing money for a stake, he went down and caused several
noblemen to be put to death; and then returning, told
the company that they sat playing for trifles while he
had won 60,000 sesterces at a cast.
Such insupportable and capricious cruelties produced
many
ROM [ 195 ] R 0 M
ilcnus.
281
iiculous
jeditions
linst Bri-
i and
many.
285
leanness
f the se-
ate.
Many secret conspiracies against him; but these were
for a while deferred, upon account of his intended ex¬
pedition against the Germans and Britons, which he
undertook in the third year of his reign. For this pur¬
pose, he caused numerous levies to be made in all parts
of the empire ; and talked with so much resolution, that
it was universally believed he would conquer all before
him. His march perfectly indicated the inequality of
his temper: sometimes it was so rapid, that the cohorts
were obliged to leave their standards behind them; at
other times it was so slow, that it more resembled a
pompous procession than a military expedition. In this
disposition he would cause himself to be can-ied on eight
men’s shoulders, and order all the neighbouring cities to
have their streets well swept and watered to def end him
from the dust. However,all these mighty preparations
ended in nothing. Instead of conquering Britain, he
only gave refuge to one of its banished princes; and this
he described in a letter to the senate, as taking posses¬
sion of the whole island. Instead of conquering Ger¬
many, he only led his army to the sea shore in Batavia.
There disposing his engines and warlike machines with
great solemnity, and drawing up his men in order of
battle, he went on board hi* galley, with which coast¬
ing along, he commanded his trumpets to soundand the
signal to be given as if for an engagement; upon which
his men having had previous orders, immediately fell to
gathering the’ shells that lay upon the shore into their
helmets, terming them the spoils of the conquered ocean,
worthy of the palace and the capital. After this doughty
expedition, calling his army together as a general after
victory, he harangued them in a pompous manner, and
highly extolled their achievements ; and then distribut¬
ing money among them, dismissed them with orders to
be joyful, and congratulated them upon their riches.
But that such exploits should not pass without a memo¬
rial, he caused a lofty tower to be erected by the sea¬
side ; and ordered the galleys in which he had put to
sea to be conveyed to Rome in a great measure by
land.
After numberless instances of folly and cruelty in
this expedition, among which he had intentions of de¬
stroying the whole army that hadformerlymutinied un¬
der his father Germanicus, he began to think of a
triumph. The senate, who had long been the timid mi¬
nisters of his pride and cruelty, immediately set about
consulting how to satisfy his expectations. They con¬
sidered that a triumph would, even to himself, appear as
aburlesque uponhis expedition : they therefore decreed
him only an ovation. Having come to this resolution,
they sent him a deputation, informing him of the ho¬
nours granted him, and the decree, which was drawn
up in terms of 'he most extravagant adulation. How¬
ever, th- ir flattery was far from satis lying his pride.
He considered their conduct rather as a diminution of
his power, than an addition to his glory. He therefore
ordered them, on pain of death not to concern them¬
selves with his honours; and beingmet by their messen¬
gers on the way, who invited him to come and partake
of the preparations which the senate had decreed, he in¬
formed them that he would come;and then laying his
hand upon his sword, added, that he would bring that
also with him. In this manner either quit? onntting
his triumph, or deferring it to another time, he entered
the city with only an ovation; while the senate passed
the whole da)' in acclamations in his praise, and speeches Sortie.
filled with the most excessive flattery. This conduct
in some measure served to reconcile him, and soon after
their excessive zeal in his cause entirely gained his fa¬
vour. For it happened that Protogenes, who was one
of the most intimate and the most cruel of his favourites,
coming into the house, was fawned upon by the whole
body of the senate, and particularly by Proculus.
Whereupon Protogenes with a fierce look, asked how
one who was such an enemy to the emperor could be
such a friend to him ? There needed no more to excite
the senate against Proculus. They instantly seized up¬
on him, and violently tore him in pieces; plainly show-
ing by their conduct, that tyranny in a prince produces
cruelty in those whom he governs.—It was after return¬
ing from this extravagant expedition, that he was wait¬
ed upon by a deputation of the Jews of Alexandria, who
came to deprecate his anger for not worshipping his di¬
vinity as other nations had done. The emperor gave
them a very ungracious reception, and vrould probably
have destroyed their countrymen if he had not soon after
been cut off.
This affair of thejews remained undecided during his
reign ; but it was at last settled by bis successor to their
satisfaction. It was upon this occasion that Philo made
the following remarkable answer to his associates, who
were terrified with apprehensionsof the emperor’s indig¬
nation : “ Fear nothing (cried he to them), Caligula,
by declaring against us, puts God on our side.”
The continuation of this horrid reign seemed to ^r^form
threaten universal calamity : however, it was but short, ed against"
There had already been several conspiracies formed to the empe-
destroy the tyrant, but without success. That which r°r»
at last succeeded in delivering the world of this monster,
was concerted under the influence of Cassius Cherea, tri¬
bune of the praetorian bands. This was a man of expe¬
rienced courage, an ardent admirer of freedom, and
consequently an enemy to tyrants. Besides the motives
which he had in common with other men, he had re¬
ceived repeated insults from Caligula, who took all oc¬
casions of turning him into ridicule, and impeaching
him of cowardice, merely because he had an effeminate
voice. Whenever Cherea came to demand the watch¬
word from the emperor, according to custom, he always
gave him either Venus, Adonis, or some such, implying
effeminacy and softness. Fie therefore secretly impart¬
ed his designs to several senators alid knights, whom he
knew to have received personal injuries from Caligula,
or to be apprehensive of those to come. Among these
was Valerius Asiaticus, whose wife the emperor had de¬
bauched. Annius Vincianus, who was suspected of ha¬
ving been in a former conspiracy, was now desirous of
really engaging in the first design that offered. Besides
these were Clemens the prefect; and Calistus, whose
riches made him obnoxious to the tyrant's resentment.
While these were de'iberating upon the most certain
and speedy method of destroying the tyrant, an unex¬
pected incident gave new strength to the conspir. jcy.
Pompedius,a senator of distinct ion, having been accused
before the emperor, of having spoken of him with disre¬
spect, the informer cised one Quintilia, an actress, to
confirm his accusation. Quintili , however, was posses¬
sed of a degree of for itu.le not ea i!y f und. She de¬
nied the fact wiih obstinacy ; and being pu* to the tor¬
ture at the informer’s request, she bore the severest tor-
.B b 2 ’ mentfc
It
O M
[ 196 ]
ROM
Rome.
287
■who is
murdered.
ments of the rack with unshaken constancy. But what
is most remarkable of her resolution is, that she was ac¬
quainted with all the particulars of the conspiracy ; and
although ' herea was appointed to preside at her torture,
she revealed nothing: on the contrary, when she was
led to the rack, she trod upon the toe of one of the con¬
spirators, intimating at once her knowledge of the con¬
federacy, and her own resolution not to divulge it. In
this manner she suffered until all her limbs were disloca¬
ted ; and in that deplorable state was presented to the
emperor, who ordered her a gratuity for what she had
suffered. Cherea could now no longer contain his in¬
dignation at being thus made the instrument of a ty¬
rant’s cruelty. He therefore proposed to the conspira¬
tors to attack him as he went to offer sacrifices in the
capitol, or while he was employed in the secret plea¬
sures of the palace The rest, however, were of opi¬
nion, that it was best to fall upon him when he should
be unattended; by which means they would be more
certain of success. After several deliberations, it was at
last resolved to attack him during the continuance of
the Palatine games, which lasted four days ; and to
strike the blow when his guards should have the least
opportunity to defend him. In consequence of this, the
three first days of the games passed without affording
that opportunity which was so ardently desired. Che¬
rea now, therefore, began to apprehend, that deferring
the time of the conspiracy might be a mean to divulge
it: he even began to dread, that the honour of killing
the tyrant might fall to the lot of some other person
more bold than himself. Wherefore, he at last resolved
to defer the execution of his plot only to the day fol¬
lowing, when Caligula should pass through a pri¬
vate gallery, to some baths not far distant from the pa¬
lace.
The last day of the games was more splendid than
the rest; and Caligula seemed more sprightly and con¬
descending than usual. He took great amusement in
seeing the people scramble for the fruits and other ra¬
rities thrown by his order among them; and seemed
no way apprehensive of the plot formed for his destruc¬
tion. In the mean time, the conspiracy began to tran¬
spire; and had he possessed any friends, it could not have
failed of being discovered. The conspirators waited a
great part of the day with the most extreme anxiety;
and at one time Caligula seemed resolved to spend the
whole day without any refreshment. This unexpected
delay entirely exasperated Cherea; and had he not been
restrained, he would have gone and perpetrated his
design in the midst of all the people. Just at that in¬
stant, while he was yet hesitating what he should do,
Asprenas, one of the conspirators, persuaded Caligula
to'go to the bath and take some slight refreshment, in
order to enjoy the rest of the entertainment with great¬
er relish. The emperor therefore rising up, the con¬
spirators used every precaution to keep off the throng,
and to surround him, under pretence of greater assi¬
duity. Upon entering into the little vaulted gallery
that led to the bath, he was met by a band of Grecian
children who had been instructed in singing, and were
come to perform in his presence. He was once more
therefore going to return to the theatre with them,
had not the leader of the band excused himself, as ha¬
ving a cold. This was the moment that Cherea seized
to strike him to the ground; crying out, “Tyrant
think upon this.” Immediately after, the other eon* Rmse.
spir tors rushed in; and while the emperor continued '-*y^
to resist, crying out, that he was not yet dead, they
dispatched him with 30 wounds, in the gpth year of
his age, after a short reign of three years ten months
and eight days. With him his wife and infant daugh¬
ter also perished; the one being stabbed by a centurion,
the other having its brains dashed out against the wall.
His coin was also melted down by a decree of the se¬
nate ; and such precautions were taken, that all seemed
willing, that neither his features nor his name might be
transmitted to posterity.
As soon as the death of Caligula was made public, it Great88 .
produced the greatest confusion in all parts of the city, fusionTn-'
I he conspirators, w ho only aimed at destroying a tv- on his
rant without attending to a successor, had all soughtdeath*
safety by retiring to private places. Some thought
the report of the emperor’s death was only an artifice
of his own, to see how his enemies would behave.
Others averred that he was still alive, and actually in
a fair way to recover. In this interval of suspense, the
German guards finding it a convenient time to pillage,
gave a loose to their licentiousness, under a pretence of
revenging the emperor’s death. All the conspirators
and senators that fell in their way received no mercy :
Asprenas, Norbanus, and Anteius, were cut in pieces.
However, they grew calm by degrees, and the senate
was permitted to assemble, in order to deliberate upon
what was necessary to be done in the present emer¬
gency. _
In this deliberation, Saturninus, who was then con¬
sul, insisted much upon thebenefits of liberty; and talk¬
ed in raptures of Cherea’s fortitude, alleging that it
deserved the highest reward. This was a language
highly pleasing to the senate. Liberty now became the
favourite topic ; and they even ventured to talk of ex¬
tinguishing the very name of Caesar. Impressed with
this resolution, they brought over some cohorts of the
city to their side, and boldly seized upon the Capitol.
But it wras now too late for Rome to regain her pristine
freedom; the populace and the army opposing their
endeavours. The former w ere still mindful of their an¬
cient hatred to the senate; and remembered the dona¬
tions and public spectacles of the emperors with re¬
gret. The latter were sensible they could have no
powder but in a monarchy; and had some hopes that
the election of the emperor would fall to their deter¬
mination. In this opposition of interests, and variety
of opinions, chance seemed at last to decide the fate of
the empire. Some •soldiers happening to run about the
palace, discovered Claudius, Caligula’s uncle, lurking
in a secret place, where he had hid himself through
fear. Of this personage, who had hitherto been despi¬
sed for his imbecility, they resolved to make an empe¬
ror : and accordingly carried him upon their shoulders
to the camp, where they proclaimed him at a time he
expected nothing but death. 0^
The senate now, therefore, perceiving that force Claudius
alone wras likely to settle the succession, were resolved made em-
to submit, since they had no power to oppose. Clau- Fei'or-
dius was the person most nearly allied to the late empe¬
ror, then living ; being the nephew of Tiberius, and
the uncle cf Caligula. The senate therefore passed a
decree, confirming him in the empire ; and went soon
alter m a hotly, to render him their compulsive ho¬
mage.
ft 0 M [ 197 ] ft O M
I me. innge. Cherea was the first who fell a sacrifice to the
ft jealousy of this new monarch. He met death with all
the fortitude of an ancient Roman; desiring to die by
the same sword with which lie had killed Caligula.
Lupus, his friend, was put to death with him ; and Sa-
binus, one of the conspirators, laid violent hands on
himself.
Claudius was 50 years old when he began to reign.
The complicated diseases of his infancy had in some
measure affected all the faculties both of his body and
mind. He was continued in a state of pupillage much
longer than was usual at that time; and seemed, in
every part of his life, incapable of conducting himself.
Not that he was entirely destitute of understanding,
since he had made a tolerable proficiency in the Greek
and Latin languages, and even -wrote a history of his
own time; which, however destitute of other merit,
was not contemptible in point of style. Nevertheless,
with this share of erudition, he was unable to advance
himself in the state, and seemed utterly neglected un-
I j )0 til he was placed all at once at the head of affairs.
H ippy The commencement of his reign gave the most promi-
ad nstra- sing hopes of a happy continuance. He began by
tel *6 PassiRg an act °f oblivion for all former words and ac-
■ "reign an(l disannulled all the cruel edicts of Caligula.
’ He forbade all persons, upon severe penalties, to sacri¬
fice to him as they had done to Caligula; was assidu¬
ous in hearing and examining complaints; and fre¬
quently administered justice in person ; tempering by
his mildness the severity of the law'. We are told of
his bringing a woman to acknowledge her son, by ad¬
judging her to marry him. The tribunes of the people
coming one day to attend him when lie was on the tri-
I bunal, he courteously excused himself for not having
room for them to sit down. By this deportment he so
much gained the affections of the people, that upon a
vague report of his being slain by surprise, they ran
about the streets in the utmost rage and consternation,
with horrid imprecations against all such as were ac¬
cessary to his death; nor could they be appeased, until
they were assured, with certainty, of his safety. He
took a more than ordinary care that Rome should be
continually supplied with corn and provisions, securing
the merchants against pirates. He was not less assi¬
duous in his buildings, in which he excelled almost all
that went before him. He constructed a wonderful
aqueduct, called after his own name, much surpassing
any other in Rome, either for workmanship or plenti¬
ful supply. It brought water from 40 miles distance,
through great mountains and over deep valleys ; being
built on stately arches, and furnishing the highest parts
of the city. He made also an haven at Ostia ; a work
of such immense expence, that Ins successors were unable
to maintain it. But his greatest work of all was the
draining of the lake Fucinus, which was the largest in
Italy, and bringing its water into the Tiber, in order to
strengthen the current of that river. For effecting this,
among other vast difficulties, he mined through a moun¬
tain of stone three miles broad, and kept 30,000 men
employed for 1 1 years together.
To this solicitude for the internal advantages of the
state, he added that of a watchful guardianship over
the provinces. ITe restored Judea to Herod Agrippa,
which Caligula had taken from Herod Antipas, his
unde, the man who had put John the Baptist to death,
and who was banished by order of the present emperor. Rofile:
Claudius also restored such princes to their kingdoms as
had been unjustly dispossessed by his predecessors; but
deprived the Lycians and Rhodians of their liberty, for
having promoted insurrections, and crucified some citi¬
zens of Rome. 291
He even undertook to gratify the people by foreign His expedi-
conquest. The Britons, who had, for near 100 years, tion aghast
been left in sole possession of their own island, began Brltau1'
to seek the mediation of Rome, to quell their intestine
commotions. The principal man who desired to sub¬
ject his native country to the Roman dominion, was
one Bericus, who, by many arguments, persuaded the
emperor to make a descent upon the island, magnify¬
ing the advantages that would attend the conquest of
it. In pursuance of his advice, therefore, Plautius the
praetor was ordered to pass over into Gaul, and make
preparations for this great expedition. At first, indeed,
his soldiers seemed backward to embark; declaring,
that they were unwilling to make war beyond the li¬
mits of the world, for so they judged Britain to be.
However, they were at last persuaded to go ; and the
Britons, under the conduct of their king Cynobelinus,
were several times overthrown. And these successes soon
after induced Claudius to go into Britain in person,
upon pretence that the natives were still seditious, and
had not delivered up some Roman fugitives who had
taken shelter among them; but for a particular account
of the exploits of the Romans in this island, see the ar¬
ticle England. 2^9
But though Claudius gave in the beginning of his is induced
reign the highest hopes of a happy continuance, he by his fa-
soon began to lessen his care for the public, and to vourites t»
commit to his favourites all the concerns of the empire. comimt
This weak prince was unable to act but under the di- ctAruelty-
rection of others. The chief of his directors was his
wife Messalina: whose name is almost become a com¬
mon appellation to women of abandoned characters.
However, she was not less remarkable for her cruelties
than her lusts ; as by her intrigues she destroyed many
of the most illustrious families of Rome. Subordinate
to her were the emperor’s freedmen; P.dlas, the trea¬
surer ; Narcissus, the secretary of state; and Callistus,
the master of the requests. These entirely governed
Claudius; so that he was &nly left the fatigues of ce¬
remony, while they were possessed of all the power of
the state.
It would be tedious to enumerate the various cruel¬
ties which these insidious advisers obliged the feeble
emperor to commit: those against his own family will
suffice. Appius Silanus, a person of great merit, who
had been married to the emperor’s mother-in-law, was
put to death upon the suggestions of Messalina. After
him he slew both his sons-in-law, Silanus and Pompey,
and his two nieces the Livias, one the daughter of
Drusus, the other of Germanicus ; and all without per¬
mitting them to plead in their defence, or even with¬
out assigning any cause for his displeasure. Great
numbers of others fell a sacrifice to the jealousy of Mes¬
salina and her minions; who bore so great a sway in
the state, that all offices, dignities, and governments,
were entirely at their disposal. Every thing was. put
to sale: they took money for pardons and penalties ;
and accumulated, by these means, such vast sums, that
the wealth of Croesus was considered as nothing in com¬
parison.
E O M
[ 198 ] It 0 M
‘Rome, parison. One day, the emperor complaining that his
exchequer was exhausted, he was ludicrously told, that
it might he sufficiently replenished if his two freedmen
would take him into partnership. Still, however, du¬
ring such corruption, he regarded his favourites with
the highest esteem, and even solicited the senate to
grant them peculiar marks of their approbation. These
disorders in the ministers of government did not fail to
produce conspiracies against the emperor Statius Cor-
vinus and Callus Assinius formed a conspiracy against
him. Two knights, whose names are not told us, pri¬
vately combined to assassinate him. But the revolt
which gave him the greatest uneasine'S, and which was
punished with the most unrelenting severity, was that
of Camillns, his lieutenant-general in Dalmatia. This
general, incited by many of the principal men of Rome,
openly rebelled against him, and assumed the title of
emperor. Nothing could exceed the terrors of Clau¬
dius, upon being informed of this revolt: his nature
and his crimes had disposed him to be more cowardly
than the rest of mankind ; so that when Camillus com¬
manded him by letters to relinquish the empire, and
retire to a private station, he seemed inclined to obey.
However, his fears upon this occasion were soon remo¬
ved : for the legions which had declared for Camillus
being terrified by some prodigies, shortly-after aban¬
doned him; so that the man whom but five days be¬
fore they had acknowledged as empercr, they now
thought it no infamy to des'roy. The cruelty of
Messalina and her minions upon this occasion seemed to
have no bounds. They so wrought upon the emperor’s
fears and suspicions, that numbers were executed with¬
out trial or proof; and scarce any, even of those who
were but suspected, escaped, unless by ransoming their
293 lives with their fortunes.
Their infa- By such cruelties as these, the favourites of the em-
inous con- peror endeavoured to establish his and their own autho¬
rity : but in order to increase the necessity of their as¬
sistance, they laboured to augment the greatness of his
terrors. He now became a prey to jealousy and dis¬
quietude. Being one day in the temple, and finding
a sword t' at was left there by accident, he convened
the senate in a fright, and informed them of his dan¬
ger. After this he never ventured to go to any feast
without being surrounded by his guards, nor would he
suffer ai y man to approach him without a previous
search. Thus wholly employed by his anxiety for self-
preservation, he entirely left the care of the state to his
favourites, who by degrees gave him a relish for slaugh¬
ter.. F>om this time he seemed delighted with in¬
flicting tortures; and on a certain occasion continued
a whole day at the city Tibur, waiting for a hang¬
man from Rome, that he might feast his eyes with an
execution in the manner of the ancients. Nor was he
less regardless of the persons he condemned, than cruel
in the infiic1 :on of their punishment. Such was his ex¬
treme stupidity, that he would frequently invite those
to supper whom he had put to death but the day be¬
fore; and often denied the having given orders for
an execution, but a few hours after pronouncing sen¬
tence. Suetonius assures us, that there were no less
than 35 senators, and above 300 knights, executed in
his reign ; and that such was his unconcern in the midst
of slaughter, that oi e of the tribunes bringing him an
account of a certain senator who was executed, he quite
forgot his offence, but calmly acquiesced in his punish- Jt«; I
ment. y
In this manner was Claudius urged on by Messalina gc]
to commit cruelties, which he considered only as whole- Extra’
some severities; while, in the mean time, she put no Santll]
bounds to her enormities. The impunity of her past g“S0F
vices only increasing her confidence to commit new, Messa
her debaucheries became every day more notorious, and
her lewrdness exceeded w hat had ever been seen at Rome.
She caused some women of the first quality to commit
adultery in the presence of their husbands, and destroy¬
ed such as refused to comply. After appearing for
some years insatiable in her desires, she at length fixed
her affections upon Cains Silius, the most beautiful
youth in Rome. Her love for the young Roman seem¬
ed to amount even to madness. She obliged him to
divorce his wife Junia Syllana, that she might entire¬
ly possess him herself She obliged him to accept of
immense treasures and valuable presents; cohabiting
with him in the most open manner, and treating him
with the most shameless familiarity. The very impe¬
rial ornaments were transferred to his house ; and the
emperor’s slaves and attendants had orders to wait up¬
on the adulterer. Nothing was want ng to complete
the insolence of their conduct, but their being married
together ; and this was soon after effected. They re¬
lied upon the emperor’s imbecility for their security,
and only waited till he retired to Ostia to put their ill-
judged project in execution. In his absence, they ce¬
lebrated their nuptials with all the ceremonies and
splendour which attend the most confident security.
Messalina gave a loose to her passion, and appeared as
a Bacchanalian with a thyrsus in her hand; while Si¬
lius assumed the character of Bacchus, his body being-
adorned with robes imitating ivy, and his legs covered
w-ith buskins. A troop of singers and dancers attend¬
ed, who heightened the revel with the most lascivious
songs and the most indecent attitudes. In the midst
of this riot, one Valens, a buffoon, is sa d to have climb¬
ed a tree ; and being demanded what he saw, answered
that he perceived a dreadful storm coming from Ostia.
What this fellow7 spoke at random was actually at that
time in preparation. It seems that some time before
there had been a quarrel between Messalina and Narcis¬
sus, the emperor’s first freedman. This subtle minister
therefore desired nothing more than an opportunity
of ruining the empress, and he judged this to be a
most favourable occasion. He first made the discove¬
ry by means of two concubines who attended the em¬
peror, who were instructed to inform him of Messa-
lina’s marriage as the news of the day, while Narcissus
himself stepped in to confirm their information. Find¬
ing it operated upon the emperor’s fears as he cou.d
w ish, he resolved to alarm him still more by a discovery
of all Messalina’s projects and attempts. He aggi-ava-
ted the danger, and urged the expediency of speedily
punishing the delinquents. Claudius, quite terrified at
so unexpected a relation, supposed the enemy were al-
ready at his gates; and frequently interrupted his
freedman, by asking if he was st 11 master of the em¬
pire. Being assured that he yet had it in his powrer to
continue so, he resolved to go and punish the affront
offered to his dignity without delay. Nothing could
exceed the consternation of Messalina and her thought¬
less companions, upon being informed that the empe¬
ror
K 0 M
[ J9J ] R O M
me.
95
s put
ath.
1 empe-
r' narries
Ppina.
ror was coming to disturb their festivity. Every one
retired in the utmost confusion. Silius Avas taken.
Messalina took shelter in some gardens which she had
lately seized upon, having expelled Asiaticus the true
owner, and put him to death. From thence she sent
Britannicus, her only son by the emperor, with Octavia
her daughter, to intercede for her, and implore his
mercy. She soon after followed them herself; but
Narcissus had so fortified the emperor against her arts,
and contrived such methods of diverting his attention
from her defence, that she was obliged to return in de¬
spair. Narcissus being thus far successful, led Claudius
to the house of the adulterer, there showing him the
apartments adorned with the spoils of his own palace;
and then conducting him to the praetorian camp, revi¬
ved his courage by giving him assurances of the readi¬
ness of the soldiers to defend him. Having thus art¬
fully wrought upon his fears and resentment, theAvretch-
ed Silius was commanded to appear; who, making no
defence, Avas instantly put to death in the emperor’s
presence. Several others shared the same fate; but
Messalina still flattered herself with hopes of pardon.
She resolved to leave neither prayers nor tears unat¬
tempted to appease the emperor. She sometimes even
gave a loose to her resentment, and threatened her ac¬
cusers with vengeance. Nor did she Avant ground for
entertaining the most favourable expectations. Clau¬
dius having returned from the execution of her para¬
mour, and having allayed his resentment in a banquet,
began to relent. He now therefore commanded his at¬
tendants to apprise that miserable creature, meaning
Messalina, of his resolution to hear her accusation the
next day, and ordered her to be in readiness with her
defence. The permission to defend herself Avould have
been fatal to Narcissus ; wherefore he rushed out, and
ordered the tribunes and centurions who were in rea¬
diness to execute her immediately by the emperor’s
command. Claudius was informed of her death in the
midst of his banquet; but this insensible idiot showed
not the least appearance of emotion. He continued at
table with his usual tranquillity; and the day following,
Avhile he was sitting at dinner, he asked why Messalina
was absent, as if he had totally forgotten her crimes and
her punishment.
Claudius being now a widower, declared publicly,
that as he had hitherto been unfortunate in his mar¬
riages, he would remain single for the future, and that
he would be contented to forfeit his life in case he broke
his resolution. However, the resolutions of Claudius
were but of short continuance. Having been accu¬
stomed to live under the controul of women, his present
freedom Avas become irksome to him, and he Avas en¬
tirely unable to live without a director. Hisfreedmen
therefore perceiving his inclinations, resolved to pro¬
cure him another wife; and, after some deliberation,
they fixed upon Agrippina, the daughter of his bro¬
ther Germanicus. This woman was more practised in
vice than even the former empress. Her cruelties Avere
more dangerous, as they Avere directed with greater
caution : she had poisoned her former husband, to be
at liberty to attend the calls of ambition; and, perfect¬
ly acquainted with all the infirmities of Claudius, only
made use of his poAver to advance her own. However,
as the late declaration of Claudius seemed to be an ob¬
stacle to his marrying again, persons were suborned to
move in the senate, that he should be compelled to take Rom?;
a wife, as a matter of great importance to the com-
monwealth; and some more determined flatterers th m
the rest left the house, as Avith a thorough resolution,
that instant, to constrain him. When this decree passed
in the senate, Claudius had scarce patience to contain
himself a day before the celebration of his nupt als.
HoAvever, such Avas the detestation m Avhich the people
in general held these incestuous matches, that though
they Avere made lawful, yet only one of his tribunes,
and one of his freedmen, followed his example.
Claudius having noAv received a neAV director, sub¬
mitted with more implicit obedience than in any for¬
mer part of his reign. Agrippina’s chief aims were to
gain the succession in favour of her oavu son Nero, and
to set aside the claims of young Britannicus, son to the
emperor and Messalina. For this purpose she married
Nero to the emperor’s daughter Octavia, a few days
after her own marriage. Not long after this, she urged
the emperor to strengthen the succession, in imitation
of his predecessors, by making a ucav adoption; and
caused him take in her son Nero, in some measure to
divide the fatigues of government. Her next care was
to increase her son’s popularity, by giving him Seneca
tor a tutor. This excellent man, by birth a Spaniard,
had been banished by Claudius, upon the false testi¬
mony of Messalina, Avho had accused him of adultery
with Julia the emperor’s niece. The people loved and
admired him for his genius, but still more for his strict
morality; and a part of his reputation necessarily de¬
volved to his pupil. This subtle woman Avas not less
assiduous in pretending the utmost affection for Britan¬
nicus ; Avhom, however, she resolved in a proper time
to destroy: but her jealousy was not confined to this
child only; she, shortly after her accession, procured
the deaths of several ladies who had been her rivals in
the emperor’s affections. She displaced the captains
of the guard; and appointed Burrhus to that command ;
a person of great military knowledge, and strongly at¬
tached to her interests. From that time she took less
pains to disguise her power, and frequently entered the
Capitol in a chariot; a privilege which none before
were alloAved, except of the sacerdotal order.
In the 12th year of this monarch’s reign, she per¬
suaded him to restore liberty to the Rhodians, of which
he had deprived them some years before; and to re¬
mit the taxes of the city Ilium, as having been the
progenitors of Rome. Her design in this Avas to in¬
crease the popularity of Nero, who pleaded the cause
of both cities Avith great approbation. Thus did this
ambitious woman take every, step to aggrandize her
son, and was even contented to become hateful herself
to the public, merely to increase his popularity.
Such a very immoderate abuse of her power served
at last to awaken the emperor’s suspicions. Agrippi¬
na’s imperious temper began to groAv insupportable to
him, and he was heard to declare, when heated with
AArine, that it Avas his fate to suffer the disorders of his
wives, and to be their executioner. This expression
sunk deep on her mind, and engaged all her faculties
to prevent the blow. Her first care Avas to remove
Narcissus, whom she hated upon many accounts, but
particularly for his attachment to Claudius. This mini¬
ster, for some time, opposed her designs ; but at length
thought fit to retire,, by a voluntary ex le, into Campa¬
nia.
ROM r 200 1 R o M
Home. n:a. Tl'.e tmhappy emperor, thus exposed to all the
machinations of his insidious consort, seemed entirely
regardless of the danger that threatened his destruc¬
tion. His affection for Britannicus was perceived every
day to increase, which served also to increase the vigi¬
lance and jealousy of Agrippina. She now, therefore,
resolved not to defer a crime which she had meditated
a lo g while before; namely, that of poisoning her
husband. She for some time, however, debated with
herself in what manner she should administer the poi¬
son; as she feared too strong a dose would discover her
297 treachery, and one too weak might fail of its effects.
By whom ^t length she determined upon a poison of singular ef-
llC edP01" ficacy to destroy his intellects, and yet not suddenly to
50116 * terminate his life. As she had been long conversant in
this horrid practice, she applied to a woman called
Locusta, notorious for assisting on such occasions. The
poison was given to the emperor among mushrooms, a
dish he was particularly fond. of. Shortly after having
eaten, he dropped down insensible; but this caused
no alarm, as it was usual with him to sit eating till he
had stupified all his faculties, and was obliged to be
carried off to his bed from the table. However, his
constitution seemed to overcome the effects of his po¬
tion, when Agrippina resolved to make sure of him :
wherefore she directed a wretched physician, v ho was
her creature, to thrust a poisoned feather down his
throat, under pretence of .making him vomit; and thus
dispatched him.
The reign of this emperor, feeble and impotent as he
was, produced no great c lamities in the state, since his
cruelties were chiefly levelled at those about his person.
The 1 st of the inhabitants of Rome at this time amount¬
ed to six mdlions eight hundred and forty-four thou¬
sand souls ; a number little inferior to all the people of
England at this day. The general character of the
times was that of corruption and luxury: but the mili¬
tary spirit of Rome, though much relaxed from its for¬
mer severity, still continued to awe mankind; and
though during this re gn, the em ire might be justly
said to be without a head, yet the terror of the Roman
name alone kept the nations in obedience.
Claudius being destroyed, Agrippina took every pre¬
caution to conceal his death from the public, until she
had settled her measures for securing the succession.
A strong guard was placed at all the avenues of the
palace, while she amused the people with various re¬
ports ; at one time giving out that he was still alive;
at another, that he was recovering. In the meanwhile,
she made sure of the person of young Britannicus, un¬
der a pretence of affection for him. Like one over¬
come with the extremity of her grief, she held the child
in her arms, calling him the dear image of his father, and
thus preventing hi*: escape. She used the same pre¬
cautions with regard to his sisters, OctavL and Anto-
298 nia; and even ordered an entertainment in the palace,
Kero sue-1 as if to amuse the emperor. At last, when all things
ceeds to the were adjusted, the palace gates were thrown open, and
enapu-e. Nero, accompanied by Burrhus, prefect of the Prae¬
torian guards, issued to receive the congratulations of
the people and the army. The cohorts then attending,
proclaimed him with the loudest acclamations, though
not without making some inquiries after Britannicus.
He was carried in a chariot to the-rest of the army,
wherein having made a speech proper to the occasion,
and promising them a donation, in the manner of his Heme,
predecessors, he was declared emperor by the army, the
senate, and the people.
Nero’s first care was, to show all possible respect to /
the deceased emperor, in order to cover the guilt of his
death. His obsequies were performed with a pomp equal
to that of Augustus: the young emperor pronounced
his funeral oration, and he was canonized among the
gods. 'I he funeral oration, though spoken by Nero,
was drawn up by Seneca; and it was remarked, that
this was the first time a Roman emperor needed the as¬
sistance of another’s eloquence.
Nero, though but 17 years of age, began his reign
with the general approbation of mankind. As he owed
the empire to Agrippina, so in the beginning he submit¬
ted to her directions with the most implicit obedience.
On her part, she seemed resolved on governing with her
natural ferocity, and considered her private animosities
as the only rule to guide her in public justice. Imme¬
diately after the death of (laudius, she caused Silanus,
the proconsul of Asia, to be assassinated upon very
slight suspicions, and without ever acquainting the em¬
peror with her design. The next object of her resent¬
ment was Narcissus, the late emperor’s favourite; a
man equally notorious for the greatness of his wealth
and the number of his crimes. He was obliged to put
an end to his life by A grippina’s order, though Nero re¬
fused his consent.
This bloody onset would have been followed by His excel,
many severities of the same nature, had not Seneca lent acra
and Burrhus, the emperor’s tutor and general, oppo- nistratioi
sed. These worthy men, although they ow ed their for five
rise to the empress, were above being the instruments year&
of her cruelty. They, therefore, combined together in
an opposition; and gaining the young emperor on
their side, formed a plan of power, at once the most
merciful and wise. The beginning of this monarch’s
feign, while he continued to act by their counsels, has
always been considered as a model for succeeding prin¬
ces to govern by. The famous emperor Trajan used :
to say, “ That for the first five years of this prince
all other governments came short of his.” In fact, the
young monarch knew so well how to conceal his innate
depravity, that his nearest friends could scarcely per¬
ceive his virtues to be but assumed. He appeared just,
liberal, and humane. When a warrant for the execu¬
tion of a criminal was brought to him to be signed, he
was heard to cry out, with seeming concern. “ Would
to Heaven that I had never learned to write !” The
senate, upon a certain occasion, giving him their ap¬
plause for the regularity and j ustice of his administration;
he replied with singular modesty, “ That they should
defer their thanks till he had deserved them.” His con¬
descension and affability were not less than his other
virtues ; so that the Romans began to think, that the
clemency of this prince would compensate for the tyran¬
ny of his predecessors.
In the mean time, Agrippina, who was excluded
from ;*ny share in government, attempted, by every
possible method, to maintain her declining power.
Perceiving that her son had fallen in love with a freed-
woman, named Acte, and dreading the influence of a
concubine, she tried every art to prevent his growing
passion. However, in so corrupt a court, it was no
difficult matter for the emperor to find other confi¬
dants
H 0 M [ 201 ] 11 o M
■ tome, dants ready to assist him in his wishes. The gratifi-
■ P cation of his passion, therefore, in this instance, only
I served to increase his hatred for the empress. Nor was
v !s his it long before he gave evident marks of his disobe-
a her. dience by displacing Pallas his chief favourite. It
was upon this occasion that she first perceived the to¬
tal declension of her authority; w'hich threw her into
the most ungovernable fury. In order to give terror to
her rage, she proclaimed that Britannicus, the real
heir to the throne, was Still living, and in a condition
to receive his father’s empire, which was now possesse 1
by an usurper. She threatened to go to the camp, and
there expose his baseness and her own, invoking all
the furies to her assistance. These menaces served to
alarm the suspicions of Nero ; who though apparently
guided by his governors, yet had begun to give way
to his natural depravity. He, therefore, determined
b her ^ l,Pon ^ie death of Britannicus, and contrived to have
him poisoned at a public banquet. Agrippina, how¬
ever, still retained her natural ferocity : she took every
opportunity of obliging and flattering the tribunes and
centurions ; she heaped up treasures with a rapacity
beyond her natural avarice ; all her actions seemed cal¬
culated to raise a faction, and make herself formidable
to the emperor. Whereupon Nero commanded her
German guard to be taken from her, and obliged her
to lodge out of the palace. He also forbade particular
persons to visit her, and went himself but rarely and
ceremoniously to pay her his respects. She now, there¬
fore, began to find, that, with the emperor’s favour, she
had lost the assiduity of her friends. She was even ac¬
cused by Silana of conspiring against her son, and of
designing to marry Plautius, a person descended from
Augustus, and making him emperor. A short time
after, Pallas her favourite, together with Burrhus,
were arraigned for a similar offence, and intending to
set up Cornelius Sylla. These informations being pro¬
ved void of any foundation, the informers were banish¬
ed ; a punishment which was considered as very inade-
302 quate to the greatness of the offence.
{ meful As Nero increased in years, his crimes seemed to
1 aviour increase in equal proportion. He now began to find a
< he em- pleasure jn running about the city by night, disguised
like a slave. In this vile habit he entered taverns and
brothels, attended by the lewd ministers of his plea¬
sures, attempt ng the lives of such as opposed him, and
frequently endangering his own. In imitation of the
emperor’s example, numbers of profligate young men
infested the streets likewise ; so that every night the
city was filled with tumult and disorder. However,
the people bore all these levities, which they ascribed
to the emperor’s youth, with patience, having occasion
every day to experience his liberality, and having also
been gratified by the abolition of many of their taxes.
The provinces also w ere no wray affected by these riots ;
for except disturbances on the side of the Parthians,
which were soon suppressed,’'they enjoyed the most per¬
fect tranquillity.
But those sensualities, which, for the first four years
of his reign, produced but fewr disorders, in the fifth
became alarming. He first began to transgress the
bounds of decency ; by publicly abandoning Octavia,
his present wife, and then by taking Poppea, the wife
of his favourite Otho, a w oman more celebrated for
Vet. XVIII. Part I.
her beauty than her virtues. This w as ancther grating Kome.
circumstance to Agrippim, w'ho vainly used all her in- y—^
terest to disgrace Poppea, and reinstate herself in her
son’s lost favour. Historians assert, that she even offer¬
ed to satisfy his passion herself by an incestuous com¬
pliance ; and that, had not Seneca interposed, the son
would have joined in the mother’s crime. This, how¬
ever, does not seem probable, since wre find Poppea vic¬
torious, soon after, in the contention of interests; and
at last impelling Nero to parricide, to satisfy her re¬
venge. She began her arts by urging him to divorce,
his present wife, and marry herself: she reproached him
as a pupil, who wanted not only power over others, but
liberty to direct himself. She insinu ited the dangerous
designs of Agrippina; and, by degrees, accustomed
his mind to reflect on parricide w ithout horror. His
cruelties against his mother began rather by various cir¬
cumstances of petty malice than by any downright in¬
jury. He encouraged several persons to tease her with
litigious suits ; and employed some of the meanest of
the people to sing satirical songs against her, under her
windows: but, at last, finding these ineffectual in
breaking her spirit, he resolved on putting her to death.
Plis first attempt wTas by poison ; but this, though twice
repeated, proved ineffectual, as she had fortified her
constitution against it by antidotes. This failing, a ship
was contrived in so artificial a manner as to fall to pieces
in the w .ter; on board of which she was invited to sail
to the coasts of Calabria. However, this plot was as
ineffectual as the former: the mariners, not being ap¬
prised of the secret, disturbed each other’s operations ;
so that the ship not sinking as readily as wras expected,
Agrippina found means to continue swimming, till she
was taken up by some trading vessels passing that way.
Nero finding all his mjehinations were discovered, re¬
solved to throw off the mask, and put her openly to
death, w ithout further delay. He therefore caused a
report to be spread, that she had conspired against him,
and that a poniard was dropped at his feet by one who
pretended a command from Agrippina to assassinate
him. In consequence of this, he applied to his gover¬
nors Seneca and Burrhus, for their advice how to act,
and their assistance in ridding him of his fears. Things
wrere now come to such a crisis, that no middle way
could be taken ; and either Nero or Agrippina was to
fall. Seneca, therefore, kept a profound silence j while
Burrhus, with more resolution, refused to be perpetra¬
tor of so great a crime; alleging, that the army was
entirely devoted to all the descendants of Caesar, and
would never be brought to imbrue their hands in the
blood of any of his family. In this embarrassment,
Anicetus, the contriver of the ship above mentioned,
offered his services ; which Nero accepted with the
greatest joy, crying out, “That then was the firs mo¬
ment he ever found himself an emperor.” This freed-
man, therefore, taking with him a body of soldiers,
surrounded the hou e of Agrippina, and then forced
open the doors. The executioners having dispatched
her with several wounds, left her dead on the couch, and Causes hie
Avent to inform Nero of what they had done. Some mother to
historians say, that Nero came immediately to view the be mur(lcr«
body ; that he continued to gaze upon it Avith pleasure, ed’
and ended his horrid survey, by coolly observing, that
he never thought his mother had been so handsome —-
t C c However
Borne.
304
Folly and
meanness
of Neio.
ROM [ 202 ] 11 0 M
However this be, he vindicated his conduct next day
to the senate; who not only excused, but applauded
his impiety.
All the bounds of virtue being thus broken down,
Nero now gave a loose to his appetites, that were not
only sordid but inhuman. There seemed an odd con¬
trast in his disposition ; for while he practised cruelties
which were sufficient to make the mind shudder with
horror, he was fond of those amusing arts that soften
and refine the heart. He was particularly addicted, even
from childhood, to music, and not totally ignorant of
poetry. But chariot-driving was his favourite pursuit.
He never missed the circus, when chariot-races were to
be exhibited there; appearing at first privately, and
soon after publicly; till at last, his passion increasing by
indulgence, he was not content with being merely a
spectator, but resolved to become one of the principal
performers. His governors, however, did all in their
power to restrain this perverted ambition ; but finding
him resolute, they inclosed a space of ground in the
valley of the Vatican, where he first exhibited only to
some chosen spectators, but shortly after invited the
whole town. The praises of his flattering subjects only
stimulated him still more to these unbecoming pursuits;
so that he now resolved to assume a new character, and
to appear as a singer upon the stage.
His passion for music, as was observed, was no less
natural to him than the former; but as it was less manly,
so he endeavoured to defend it by the example of some
of the most celebrated men, who practised it with the
game fondness. He had been instructed in the principles
of this art from his childhood ; and upon his advance¬
ment to the empire, he had put himself under the most
celebrated masters. He patiently submitted to their
instructions, and used all those methods which singers
practise, either to mend the voice, or improve its volu¬
bility. Yet, notwithstanding all his assiduity, bis voice
■was but a wretched one, being both feeble and un¬
pleasant. However, he was resolved to produce it to
the public, such as it was ; for flattery, he knew, would
supply every deficiency. His first public appearance
was at games of his own institution, called juveniles ;
where he advanced upon the stage, tuning his instru¬
ment to his voice with great appearance of skill. A
group of tribunes and centurions attended behind him ;
while his old governor Burrhus stood by his hopeful
pupil, with indignation in his countenance, and praises
on his lips.
He was desirous also of becoming a poet: but he
was unwilling to undergo the pain of study, which a
proficiency in that art requires ; he was desirous of be¬
ing a poet ready made. For this purpose, he got to¬
gether several persons, who were considered asgreat wits
at court, though but very little known as such to the
public. These attended him with verses which they
had composed at home, or which they blabbed out ex¬
temporaneously; and the whole of their compositions
being tacked together, by bis direction, was called a
pcem. Nor was he without his philosophers also ; he
took a pleasure in hearing their debates after supper,
butbe heard them merely for his amusement.
Furnished with such talents as these for giving
pleasure, he was resolved to make the tour of his em¬
pire, and give the most public display of his abilities
wherever he came. The jolace of his first exhibition,
upon leaving Rome, was Naples. The crowds there
were so great, and the curiosity of the people so ear¬
nest in hearing him, that they did not perceive an
earthquake that happened while he was singing. His
desire of gaining the superiority over the other actors
was truly ridiculous : he made interest with his judges,
reviled his competitors, formed private factions to sup¬
port him, all in imitation of those who got thesr liveli¬
hood upon the stage. While he continued to perform,
no man was permitted to depart from the theatre, upon
any pretence whatsoever. Some wrere so fatigued with,
hearing him, that they leaped privately from the walls,
or pretended to fall into fainting fits, in order to be
carried out. Nay, it is said, that several women were
de ivered in the theatre. Sol iiers were placed in several
parts to observe the looks and gestures of the spectators,
either to direct them where to point their applause, or
restrain their displeasure. An old senator, named Ves-
pasian, afterwards emperor,happening to fall asleep up¬
on one of these occasions, very narrowly escaped with
his life.
After being fatigued with the praises of his coun¬
trymen, Nero resolved upon going over into Greece,
to receive new theatrical honours. The occasion was
this. The cities of Greece had made a law to send him
the crowns from all the games ; and deputies were ac¬
cordingly dispatched with this (to him) important em¬
bassy. As he one day entertained them at his table in
the most sumptuous manner, and conversed with them
with the utmost familiarity, they entreated to hear him
sing. Upon his complying, the artful Greeks testified
all the marks of ecstasy and rapture. Applauses so
warm were peculiarly pleasing to Nero: he could not
refrain from crying out. That the Greeks alone were
worthy to hear him ; and accordingly prepared without
delay to go into Greece, where he spent the whole year
ensuing. In this journey, his retinue resembled an ar¬
my in number ; but it was only composed of singers,
dancers, taylors, and other attendants upon the theatre.
He passed over all Greece, and exhibited at all their
games, which he ordered to be celebrated in one year.
At the Olympic games he resolved to show the people
something extraordinary ; wherefore, he drove a cha¬
riot with 10 horses; but being unable to sustain the vio¬
lence of the motion, he was driven from his seat. The
spectators,however, gave their unanimous applause,and
he was crowned as conqueror. In this manner he ob¬
tained the prize at the Isthmian, Pythian, and Nemean
games. The Greeks were not sparing of their crowns ;
he obtained 1800 of them. An unfortunate singer
happened to oppose him on one of these occasions, and
exerted all the powers of his art, which, it appears,
were prodigious. But he seems to have been a better
singer than a politician; for Nero ordered him to be
killed on the spot. Upon his return from Greece, he
entered Naples, through a breach in the walls of the
city, as was customary with those who were conquerors
in the Olympic games. But all the splendour of his re¬
turn was reserved for his entry into Rome. There he
appeared seated in the chariot of Augustus, dressed in
robes of purple, and crowned with wild olive, which
Avas the Olympic garland. He 1 ore in his hand the Py¬
thian crown, and had 1100 more carried before him.—
Beside him sat one Diodorus, a musician * and behind
him followed a band of singers,, as numerous as a le-
glon
Rome.
ROM [
ihotne. pion, >vlio sung in honour of his victories. The senate,
' the knights, and the people, attended this puerile page¬
ant, filling the air with their acclamations. The whole
city was illuminated, every street smoked with incense;
wherever he passed, victims were slain ; the pavement
was strewred with saffron, while garlands of flowers,
ribbons, fowls, and pasties, (for so wTe are told), were
showereddown upon him from the windows as hepassed
along. So many honours only inflamed his desire of
acquiring new ; he at last began to take lessons in
wrestling ; willing to imitate Hercules in strength, as
he had rivalled Apollo in activity. He also caused a
lion of pasteboard to be made with great art, against
which he undauntedly appeared in the theatre, and
struck it down with a blow of his club.
I ningoi cme]ties even outdid all his other extrava-
1 ie’ gancies, a complete list of which would exceed the li¬
mits of the present article. He was often heard to
observe, that he had rather he hated than loved. When
one happened to say in his presence, That the world
might he burned when he was dead: “Nay,” replied
Nero, “ let it be burnt while I am alive.” In fact, a
great part of the city of Rome was consumed by fire
shortly after. This remarkable conflagration took place
in the 11th year of Nero’s reign. The fire began
among certain shops, in which were kept such goods as
were proper to feed it; and spread every way with such
amazing rapidity, that its havock was felt in distant
streets, before any measures to stop it could be tried.
Besides an infinite number of common houses, all the
noble monuments of antiquity, all the stately palaces,
temples, porticoes, with goods, riches, furniture, and
merchandise, to an immense value, were devoured by
the flames, which raged first in the low regions of the
city, and then mounted to the higher with such terrible
violence and impetuosity, as to frustrate all relief. The
shrieks of the women, the various efforts of some en¬
deavouring to save the young and tender, of others at¬
tempting to assist the aged and infirm, and the hurry of
such as strove only to provide for themselves, occasioned
a mutual interruption and universal contusion. Many,
while they chiefly regarded the danger that pursued
them from behind, found themselves suddenly involved
in the flames before and on every side. If they escaped
into the quarter's adjoining, or into the parts quite re¬
mote, there too they met with the devouring fl lines.
At last, not knowing whither to fly, nor where to seek
sanctuary, they abandoned the city, and repaired to the
open fields. Some, out of despair for the loss of their
whole substance, others, through tenderness for their
children and relations, whom they had not been able to
snatch from the flames, suffered themselves to perish in
them, though they might easily have found means to
escape. No man dared t* stop the progress of the fire,
there being many who had no other busine-s but to pre¬
vent with repeated menaces all attempts of that nature :
nay, some were, in the face of the public, seen to throw
lighted fire-brands into the houses, loudly declaringthat
they were authorised so to do; but whether this was
only a device to plunder the more freely, < r in reality
they had such orders, was never certainly known.
Nero, who was then at Antiuni, did not offer to re¬
turn to the city, till he heard that the flames were ad¬
vancing to his palace, which, after h:s arrival, was, in
spite of all opposition, burnt down to the ground,
203 ] R O M
with all the houses adjoining to if. However, Nero,
affecting compassion for the multitude, thus vagabond *~~~\(-***f
and bereft of their dwellings, bid open the field of
Mars, and all the great edifices erected there by A grip-
pa, and even his own gardens. He likewise Caused ta¬
bernacles to he i'eared in haste for the reception of the
forlorn populace; from Ostia, too, and the neighbour¬
ing cities, were brought, by his orders, all sorts of fur¬
niture and necessaries, and the price of corn w as consi-
derahlylessened. But these bounties, however generous
and popular, were bestow ed in vain, because a report
was spread abroad, that, during the time of this gene¬
ral conflagration, he mounted his domestic stage, and
sung the destruction of Troy, comparing the present
desolation to the celebrated calamities of antiquity. At
length, on the sixth day, the fury of the flames wras
stopped at the foot of Mount iEsquiline, by levelling
with the ground an infinite number of buildings : so
that the fire found nothing to encounter but the open
fields and empty air.
But scarce had the late alarm ceased, when the fire
broke out anew w’ith fresh rage, but in places more
wide and spacious; whence fewrer persons wrere destroy¬
ed, but more temples and public porticoes were over¬
thrown, As this second conflagration broke out in cer¬
tain buildings belonging to Tigellinus, they w'ere both
generally ascribed to Nero: and it was conjectured,
that, by destroying the old city, he aimed at the glory
of building a new one, and calling it by his name. Of
the fourteen quarters into which Rome wasdivided,four
remained entire, three were laid in ashes, and, in the se¬
ven others, there remained here and there a few houses,
miserably shattered, and half consumed. Among the
many ancient and stately edifices, which the rage of the
flames utterlyconsumed, Tacitus reckons the temple de¬
dicated by Servius Tullius to the Moon ; the temple
and great altar consecrated by Evander to Hercules ;
the chapel vowed by Romulus to Jupiter Stator; the
court of Numa, with the temple of Vesta; and in it
the tutelar gods peculiar to the Romans. In the same
fate were involved the inestimable treasures acquired by
so many victories, the wonderful wTorks of the best
painters and sculptors of Greece, and, what is still more
to be lamented, the ancient writings of the celebrated
authors, till then preserved perfectly entire. It waas ob¬
served, that the fire began the same day on which the
Gauls, having formerly taken the city, burnt it to the
ground. SoG
Upon the ruins of the demolished city, Nero found- Nero’s gol-
ed a palace, which he called his golden house ; though 11611 Palacc'
it was not so much admired on account of an immense
profusion of gold, precious stones, and other inesti¬
mable ornaments, as for its vast extent, containing spe¬
cious fields, large wildernesses, artificial lakes, thick
woods, orchards, vineyards, hills, groves, Ac. The
entrance of this stately edifice was wide enough to re¬
ceive a colossus, representing Nero, 120 feet high : the
galleries, which consisted of three rows of tall pillars,
were each a full mile in length ; the lakes were encom¬
passed with magnificent buildings, in the manner of ci¬
ties ; and the woods stocked with all manner of wild,
beasts. The house itself was tiled with gold : the walls
wmre covered with the same metal, and richly adorned
with precious stones and mother-of-pearl, which inthose
days was valued above gold: the timber-work and ceil-
C c 2 ings
Itotne.
E O M r 204 ] E O M
ngs of the ronms were inlairl with grold and ivory : the
roof of one of the banqueting-rooms resembled the fir¬
mament both inks figure and motion, turning incessant¬
ly about night and dav, and showering all sorts of
sweet waters. When this magnificent structure was fi¬
nished, Nero approved of it o lv so far as to say, that
at length he began to lodge like a man. Puny tells us,
thaf this palace expended quite round the city. Nero, it
seems, did not finish it; for the first order Otho signed
was, as we i ead in Suetonius, for fiftv millions of sester¬
ces to be employed in perfecting the golden palace which
307
Undertakes
to cut a
canal from
Avernus to
the Tiber.
308
Rome re¬
built.
Nero had begun.
The projectors of the plan were Severus and Celer,
two hold and enterprising men. who soon fter pnt the
empeior upo a still more expensive ami arduous under¬
taking, namely, that of cutting a canal through hard
rocks and steep mountains, from the lake Avernus to
the mouth of the Tiber, l60 miles in length, and of
such breadth that two galleys of five ranks of oars might
easily pass abreast. His view in this was to open a
communication between Rome and Campania, free from
the troubles and dangers of the sea ; for this very year,
a great number ot ves'els laden with corn were ship¬
wrecked at Misenum, the pilots choosing rather to ven¬
ture out in a violent storm, than not to arrive at the
time they weie expected by Nero. For the executing
of this great undertaking, the e>.r peror ordered the pri¬
soners from all parts to be transported into Italy ; and
such as were convicted, whatever their crimes were, to
be condemned only to his works. Nero, who under¬
took nothing with more ardour and readiness than what
wasdeemedimpossible, expended inci ediblesums in this
rash undertaking, and exer'ed all his might to cut
through the mountains adjoining to the lake Avernus ;
but, not being able to remove by art the obstacles of
nature, he was in the end obliged to drop the enter¬
prise.
The ground that was not taken up by the founda¬
tions of Nero’s own palace, he assigned for houses,
which were not placed, as after the burning of the
city by the Gauls, at random, and without order ; but
the streets were laid out regularly, spacious and straight;
the edifices restrained to a certain height, perhaps of
70 feet, according to the plan of Augustus ; the courts
were widened ; and to all the great houses which stood
by themselves, and were called isles, large porticoes
were added, which Nero engaged to raise at bis own
expence, and to deliver to each proprietor the squares
about them clear from all rubbish. He likewise pro¬
mised rewards according to every man’s rank and sub¬
stance ; and fixed a day for the performance of his
promise, on condition that against that day their several
houses and palaces were finished. He moreover made
the following wiseregulations to obviate ^uch a dreadful
calamity for the future; to wit. That the new buildings
should be raised to a certain height without timber ;
that they should be arched with stone from the quarries
of Gabii and Alba, which were proof against fire;
that over the common springs, which were diverted by
private men for their own uses, overseers should be
placed to prevent that abuse ; that every citizen should
Rave ready in his house some machine proper to extin¬
guish the fire; that no wall should be common to two
houses, but every house be inclosed within its own pecu¬
liar walls, &c. Thus the city in a short time rose on RomJI
of its ashes with new lustre, and more beautiful than |
ever. However, some believed, that the ancient form
was m->re conducive to he dth, the rays of the sun be¬
ing hardly felt on account of the narrowness of the
streets, and the height of the buildings, whereas now
th^re was no shelter against the scorching heat. We
are told, that Nero de-igned to extend the walls to Os¬
tia, and to bring fx*om thence by a canal the sea, into the
city.
The emperor used every art to throw the odium of
this conflagration upon the Christians, who were at
that time gaining ground in Rome. Nothing could be
more dreadiul than the persecution raised against them
upon thk f Ise accusation, of which an account is given I
under the artic e Ecclesiastical History. Hitherto, 1
however, the citizensof Home seemed comparatively ex- IaCy 0f Mi
empted from hk cruelties, which chiefly fell upon stran¬
gers and his nearest connections ; but a conspiracy
formed against him by Piso, a man of great power and
integrity, which was prematurely discovered, opened a
new train of suspicions that destroyed many of the prin¬
cipal families in Rome. This conspiracy, in which se¬
veral of the chief men of the city were concerned, was
first discovered by the indiscreet zeal of a woman named
Epicharis, who, by some means now unknown, had been
led into the plot, which she revealed to Volusiu«, a tri¬
bune, in order to prevail upon him to be an accomplice.
Volusius, instead of coming into her design, went and
discovered what he had learned to Nero, who immedi¬
ately put Epicharis in prison. Soon after, a freedman
belonging to Scaenius, one of the accomplices, made a
farther discovery. The conspirators were examined
apart; and as their testimonies differed, they were put
to the torture. Natalis was the first who made a con¬
fession of his own guilt and that of many others. Scsa-
nius gave a list of the conspirators still more ample.
Lucan, the poet, was amongst the number; and he, like
the rest, in order to save himself, still farther enlarged
the catalogue, naming, among others, Attilia, his own
mother. Epicharis was now, therefore, again called
upon and put to the torture; but her fortitude was
proof against all the tyrant’s cruelty ; neither scourging
nor burning, nor all the malicious methods used by the
executioners, could extort the smallest confession. She
was therefore remanded to prison, with orders to have
her tortures renewed the day following: In the mean
time, she found an opportunity of strangling herself
with her handkerchief, by hanging it against the back
of her chair. On the discoveries already made, Piso,
Lateranus, Fennius Rufus, Subrius Flavius, Sulpicius,
Asper, V'estinus the consul, and numberless others, were
all executed without mercy. But the two most re¬
markable personages who fell on this occasion were Se¬
neca the philosopher, and Lucan the poet, who was
his nephew. It is not certainly known whether Se¬
neca wras really concerned in this conspiracy or not.—.
d his great man had for some time perceived the out¬
rageous conduct of his pupil; and. finding himself in¬
cap ib e of controuling his savage disposition,, had re¬
tired from court into solitude and privacy. However,
his retreat did not now protect him; for Nero, either
having real testimony against him, or else hating him
for his virtues, sent a tribune to inform him that he was
suspected
11 0 M [ 205 ] It O M
I iff. suspected as an accomplice, and soon after sent him an
w order to put himself to death, with which he com¬
plied.
In tins manner was the whole city filled with slaugh¬
ter, and frightful instances of treachery. No master
was secure from the vengeance of his slaves, nor even
parents from the baser attempts of their children. Not
only throughout Ro ■ e, but the whole country round,
bodies of soldiers were seen in pursuit of the suspected
and the guilty. Whole crowds of wretches loaded with
chains w ere led every day to the gates of the palace, to
wait their sentence from the tyrant’s own lips. He
always presided at the torture in person, attended by
Tigellinus, captain of the guard, who, from being the
, most abandoned man in Rome, was now become his
principal minister and favourite.
Nor were the Roman provinces in a better situation
than the capital city. The example of the tyrant
seemed to influence his governors, who gave instances
not only of their rapacity, but of their cruelty, in every
part of the empire. In the seventh year of his reign,
the Britons revolted, under the conduct of their queen
i Eng- Boadicea * ; but were at last so completely defeated,
that ever after, during the continuance of the Romans
among them, they lost not only all hopes, but even all
0 desire of freedom.
? ts t]ie A war also was carried on against the Partin’ans for
a ans 6 ^ie grpatest part of this reign, conducted by Corbulo ;
c who, after many successes, had dispossessed Tiridates,
and set:led Tigranes in Armenia in his room. Tiri-
dates, however, was soon after restored by an invasion
of the Parthians into that country ; but being once
more opposed by Corbulo, the Romans and Parthians
came to an agreement, that Tiridates should continue
to govern Armenia, upon condition that he should lay
down his crown at the feet of the emperor’s statue, and
receive it as coming from him ; all which he shortly
after performed. A ceremony, however, which Nero
desired to have repeated to his person ; wherefore by
letters and premises he invited Tiridates to Rome,
granting him the mostmagnificent supplies for his jour¬
ney. Nero attended his arrival with very sumptuous
preparations. He received him seated on a throne, ac¬
companied by the senate standing round him, and the
whole army drawn out with allimaginablesplendour.—
Tiridates ascended the throne wuth great reverence, and
approaching the emperor fell down athisfeet, and in the
most abject terms acknowledged himselfhis slave. Nero
raised him up, telling him with equal arrogance, that
he did well, and that by his submission he had gained a
kingdom which his ancestors could never acquire by
their arms. He then placed the crown on his head,
and, after the most costly ceremoniesand entertainments,
he was sent back to Armenia, with incredible sums of
money to defray the expences of his return.
n ^ In the 12th year of this emperor’s re'gn, the Jews
, ^ also revolted, having been severely oppressed by the
Roman governor. It is said that Florus, in particular,
was arrive ! at that degree of tyranny, that by public
proclamation he gave permission to plunder the coun¬
try, provided he received half the spoil. These oppres¬
sions drew such a train of calamities after them, that
the sufferings of all other nations were slight in ccmpa-
yimn to what this devoted people afterwards endured, as
is related under the article Jews. In the mean time.
Nero proceeded in his cruelties at Rome with unaba’ccl Rome,
severity.
The valiant Corbulo, who had gained so many victo¬
ries over the Parthians, could not escape his fury. Nor
did the empress Poppaea herself escape ; whom, in a fit
of an.>er, he kicked when she was pregnant, by which
she miscarried and died. At last the Romans began to
grow weary of such a mon-te-, nd there appeared a ge- 312
nera! revolution in all the provinces Revolt of
The first appeared in GauR under Julius Vindex, Q™jeX *n
who commanded the legions there, and publicly protest¬
ed against the tyrannical government of Nero. He ap¬
peared to have no other motive for this revo't th oi that
of freeing the world from an oppre-sor ; for when it
was told him that Nero had 'Ct a reward upon his head
of 10,000,000 of sesterces, he made this gallant an¬
swer, “ Whoever brings me Nero’s head, shall, if he
pleases, have mine.” But still more to show that he
was not actuated by motives ot private ambiti n, he
proclaimed Sergius Galba emperor, and invite.! him
to join in the revolt. Galba, who was at that time go¬
vernor of Spain, was equally remarkable for his wisdom
in peace and his courage in war. But as ail talents
under corrupt princes are dangerous, he for some years
had seemed willing to court obscurity, giving himself
up to an inactive life, and avoiding all opportunities of
signalizing his valour. He now therefore, either through
the caution attending old age, or from a total wa it of
ambition, appeared little inclined to j in with Vindex,
and continued for sometimetodeliberatewith his friends
on the part he should take.
In the mean time, Nero, who had been apprised of
the proceedings against him in Gaul, appeared totally
regardless of the danger,privately flatteringhim eJ that
the suppression of this revolt would give him an oppor¬
tunity for fresh confiscations. But the actual revolt of 313
Galba, the news of which arrived soon alter, affected
him in a very different manner. The reputation of that
general was such, that from the moment he eel .red
against him, Nero considered himself as undone. He
received the account as he was at. supper; and instant¬
ly, struck with terror, overtu ned the table with his
foot, breaking two crystal vase- of immense value. He
then fell into a swoon , from which when he recovered,
he tore his clothes, and struck his head, crying out
“ that he was utterly undone.” He then began to me¬
ditate slaughters rm re extensive than he had ye com¬
mitted. He re-olved to massacre all the governors of
provinces, to destroy all exiles, and to murder «1 the
Gauls in Rome, as a punishment tor the treachery of
their countrymen. In >hort inthe wildness of hi- rage,
he thought of poisoning the vihole -enate. of burning
the city, and turning the lions kept tor the purposes of
the theatre out upon the people. There designs being
impracticable, he resolved at List to face the danger in
person. But his very preparation? setved to mark the
infatuation of his mind. His piineipal care was, to
provide waggons for the convenient carriage oi his mu¬
sical instruments ; and to dress out his concubine- like
Amazons, with whom he intended to face the enemy.
He also madea resolution, that if became off with •afe-
ty and empire, he would appear again upon the theatre
with the lute, and would equip himself as a panto¬
mime.
While Nero was thus frivolously employed,the revolt
became
II 0 M [ 206 ] 11 0 M
Home, became ffeneral. Not only the armies in Spain and Gaul,
but also the legions in Germany, Africa, and Lusitania,
declared againsthim. Virainius Rufus alone, who com¬
manded an army on the Upper Rhine, for a while con¬
tinued in suspense ; during which his forces, without his
permission, falling upon the Gauls routed them with
great slaughter, and Vindex slew himself. Bat this ill
success no way advanced the interests of Nero; he was
so detested by the whole empire,that he could find none
*311, of the armies faithful to him, however they might dis-
.Miserable agree with each other. He therefore called for Lo-
situation of CUsta to furnish him with poison ; and, thus prepared
for the worst, he retired to the Servilian gardens, with
a resolution of flying into Egypt. He accordingly dis¬
patched the freedmen, in whom ho had the most con¬
fidence, to prepare a fleet at Ostia ; and in the mean¬
while sounded, in person, the tribunes and centurions of
the guard, to know if they were willing to share his for¬
tunes. But they all excused themselves, under divers
pretexts. One of them tad the boldness to answer him
by a part of a linefrom Virgil: Usque adeone miscnnn est
utori ? “ Is death then such a misfortune ?” Thus desti¬
tute of every resource, all the expedients that cowar¬
dice, revenge, or terror could produce, took place in
his mind by turns. He at one time resolved to take re¬
fuge among the Parthians ; at another, to deliver him¬
self up to the mercy of the insurgents; one Avhile he
determined to mount the rostrum, to ask pardon for
what was past, and to conclude with promises of amend¬
ment for the future. With these gloomy deliberations
he went to bed ; but waking about midnight, he was
surprised to find his guards had left him. The praeto¬
rian soldiers, in fact, having been corrupted by their
commander, had retired to their camp, and proclaimed
Galba emperor. Nero immediately sent f r his tr ends
to de'iberate upon his present exigence ; but his friends
also forsook him. He went in person from house to
house; but a’l the doors were shut against him, and
none were found to answer his inquiries. While he was
pursuing- this inquiry, Ita very domestics followed the
general defection ; and having plundered his apartment
escaped different ways Being now reduced to despe¬
ration, he desired that one of his favourite gladiators
imght Come and dispatch him: but even in this request
there was none found to obey. “ Alas ! (cried he)
have I neither friend nor enemy ?” And then running
desperately forth, he seemed resolved to plunge headlong
into the 1 iber. But just then his courage beginning to
fail Inm, he made a sudden stop, as if willing to recol¬
lect his reason ; and asked for some secret place, where
he might re-assnme his courage, and meet death with
becoming fortitude. In this distress, Phaon, one of
his freedmen, offered him his country-house, at about
four miles distant, where he might for some time re¬
main concealed. Nero accepted his offer ; and, half-
dressed ss he was, with his head covered, and hiding
his face with a handkerchief,he mounted on horseback,
attended by four of his domestics, of whom the wretch¬
ed Sporus was one. His journey, though quite shoit,
was crowded with adventures. Round him he heard
nothing but confuted noises from the camp, and the
cries of the soldiers, imprecating a thousand evils upon
his he id. A passenger, meeting him on the way, cried,
“ There go men in pursuit of Nero.’ Another asked
him, if there was any news of Nero iathe city? His
horse taking fright at a dead body that lay near the It%
road, lie dropped his handerchief; and a soldier that
was near, addressed him by name. He now therefore
quitted his horse, and forsaking the highway, entered a
thicket that led towards the back part of Phaon’s house,
through which he crept, making the best of his way
among the reeds and brambles, with which the place
was overgrown. When he was arrived at the back part
of the house, while he was waiting till there should be
a breach made in the wall, he took up some water in
the hollow of his hands from a pool to drink; saying,
“ To this liquor is Nero reduced.” When the hole
was made large enough to admit him, he crept in upon
all-fours, and took a short repose upon a wretched pal¬
let, that had been prepared for his reception. Being
pressed by hunger, he demanded somew hat to eat: they
brought him a piece of brown bread, which he refused;
but he drank a little water. During this interval, the
senate finding the praetorian guardsihad taken part with
Galba, declared him emperor, and condemned Nero to
elie more majorum ; that is, u according to the rigour of
the ancient laws.” These dreadful tidings were quick¬
ly brought by one of Phaon’s slaves from the city,
while Nero yet continued lingering between his hopes
and his fears. When he was told of the resolution of
the senate against him, he asked the messenger what he
meant by being punished “ according to the rigour of
the ancient laws?” To this he was answered, that the
criminal w-as to lie stripped naked, his head was to be
fixed in a pillory, and in that posture he was to be
scourged to death. Nero was so terrified at this, that
he seized two poniards which he had brought with him,
and examining their points, returned them to their
sheaths, saying, that the fatal moment was not yet ar¬
rived. However, he had little time to spare; for the
soldiers who had been sent in pursuit of him were just
then appicaching the house: wherefore hearing the
sound of the horses feet, he set a dagger to his throat,
with which, by the assistance of Epaphroditus, his
freedman and secretary, he gave himself a mortal ^
wound. He was not quite dead when one of thecen- {jisiki
turions entering ihe room, and pretending he came to
his relief, attempted to stop the blood with his cloak.
But Nero, regarding him with a stern countenance,
said, “ It is now too lale. Is this your fidelity ?”—
Upon which, with his eyes fixed, and frightfully star-
inp-, he expired, in the 32d year of his age, ami the
1-fth of his reign. gij
Galba was 7 2 years old when he was declared em-Ureass
peror, and was then in Spain with his legions. How- ofG*
ever, he soon found, that his being raised to the throne
■was but an inlet to new disquietudes. His first embar- ^
rassment arose from a disorder in his own army; for c
upon his approaching the camp, one of the wings ot
horse repenting of their choice, prepared to revolt, and
he found it no easy matter to reconcile them to their
duty. He also narrowly escapedassassination from some
slaves, who were presented to him by one of Neros
freedmen with that intent. The death of Vituiex ;dso
served to add not a little to his disquietudes; so that
upon n:s very entrance into the empire he had some
thoughts or putting an end to Lis own life. But heat*
nig In ra Rome that Nero was dead, and the empif6
transferred to him, lie immediately assumed the titleand
Ensigns of command. In his journey towards Uom®
E O M
[
; lome.
f
t 317
! ills in _
, admini'
non.
e
he was met by Rufus Virginias, who, finding the se¬
nile had decreed him the government, came t > yield
him obedience. This general had more than once re¬
fused the empire himself, which was offered him by bis
soldiers; alleging, that the senate alone had the dis¬
posal of it, and from them only he would accept the
honour.
Galba having been brought to the empire by means
of his army, was at the same time willing to suppress
their power to commit any future disturbance. His first
approach to Rome was attended with one of those ri-
o-orous strokes of justice which ought rather to be de¬
nominated cruelly than any thing else. A body of ma¬
riners, whom Nero had taken from the oar and enlisted
among the legions, went to meet Galba, three miles
from the city, and with loud importunities demanded a
confirmation of what his predecessor had done in their
favour. Galba, who was rigidly attached to the anci¬
ent discipline, deferred their request to another time.
But they, considering this delay as equivalent to an ab¬
solute ilenial, insisted in a very disrespectful manner; and
some of them even had recourse to arms: whereupon Gal-
haordereda body of horse attending him to ride in among
them, and thus killed 7000 of them ; but not content
with this punishment, he afterwards ordered them to be
decimated. Their insolence demanded correction ; but
such extensive punishments deviated into cruelty. His
next step to curb the insolence of the soldiers, was his
discharging the German cohort, which had been esta¬
blished by the former emperors as a guard to their per¬
sons. Those he sent home to their own country unre¬
warded, pretending they were disaffected to his person.
He seemed to have two other objects also in view
namely, to punish thoseviceswhich had come to an enor¬
mous height in the last reign, with the strictest severi¬
ty ; and to replenish the exchequer, which had been
quite drained by the prodigality of his predecessors.
But these attempts only brought on him the imputation
of severitv and avarice; for the state was too much cor¬
rupted to admit of such an immediate transition from
vice to virtue. The people had long been maintained
in sloth and luxury by the prodigality of the former em¬
perors, and could not think of being obliged to seek
for new means of subsistence, and to retrench their su¬
perfluities. They began, therefore, to satirize the old
man, and turn the simplicity of his manners into ridi¬
cule. Among the marks of avarice recorded of him,
he is said to have groaned upon having an expensive soup
served up to his table; he is said to have presented to
his steward, for his fidelity, a plate of beans; a famous
player upon the flute named Canus, having greatly de¬
lighted him, it is reported, that he drew out his purse,
and gave him five-pence, telling him, that it was pri¬
vate and not public money. By such ill-judged fruga¬
lities, at such a time, Galba began to lose his populari¬
ty; and he, who before his accession was esteemed by
all, being become emperor, was considered with ridicule
and contempt. But there are some circumstances al¬
leged against him, less equivocal than those trifling ones
already mentioned. Shortly after his coming to Rome,
the people were presented with a most grateful spectacle,
which was that of Locusla, Elius, Bolicletus, Petro-
mus, and Petinus, a1l the bloody ministers of Nero’s
cruelty, drawn in fetters, through the city, and public¬
ly executed. But Tigellinus, who had been more active
07 ] E O M
than all the rest, was not there. The crafty villain had
taken care for his own safety, by the largeness of his
bribes: and though the people cried out for vengeance
against him at the theatre and at the circus, yet the
emperor granted him his life and pardon. Helotus
the eunuch, also, who had been the instrument of poi¬
soning Claudius, escaped, and owed his safety to the
proper application of his wealth. Thus, by the ine¬
quality of his conduct, he became despicable to his sub¬
jects. At one time shewing himself severe and frugal,
at another remiss and prodigal; condemning some il¬
lustrious persons without any hearing, and pardoning
others though guilty : in short, nothing was done but
by the mediation of his favourites; all offices were ve¬
nal, and all punishments redeemable by money.
Affairs were in this unsettled posture at Rome, when
the provinces were yet in a worse condition. The suc¬
cess of the army in Spain in choosing an emperor in¬
duced the legions in the other parts to wish for a simi¬
lar opportunity. Accordingly, many seditions were
kindled, and several factions promoted in different parts
of the empire, but particularly in Germany. There
were then in that province two Roman armies ; the
one which had lately attempted to make Rufus Virgi¬
nias emperox-, as has been already mentioned, and
which was commanded by his lieutenant; the other
commanded by Vitellius, who long had an ambition
to obtain the empire for himself. The former of these
armies despising their present general, and considering
themselves as suspected by the emperor for having-
been the last to acknowledge his title, resolved now to
be foremost in denying it. Accordingly, when they
were summoned to take the oaths of homage and fide¬
lity, they refused to acknowledge any other commands
but those of the senate. This refusal they backed by
a message of the praetorian bands, importing, that they
were resolved not to acquiesce in the election of an em¬
peror created in Spain, and desiring that the senate
should proceed to a nCw choice.
Galba being informed of this commotion, was sen¬
sible, that, besides his age, he was less respected for
want of an heir. Tie resolved therefore to put what
he had formerly designed in execution, and to adopt
some pei*son whose virtues might deserve such advance¬
ment, and protect his declining age from danger. His
favourites understanding his determination, instantly
resolved to give him an heir of their own choosing ; so
that thex-e arose a great contention among them upon
this occasion. Otho made warm application for him¬
self; alleging the great services he had done the em¬
peror, as being the first man of note who came to
Ixis assistance when he had declared against Nero. Hovr-
evei% Galba, being fully resolved to consult the pu¬
blic good alone, rejected his suit; and on a day ap¬
pointed ordered Piso Lucinianus to attend him. The
character given by historians of Piso. is, that he was
every way worthy of the honour designed him. He
wTas no way related to Galba; and had no other interest
but merit to recommend him to his favour. Taking
this youth therefore by the hand, in the presence of
his friends, lie adopted him to succeed in the empire,
giving him the most wholesome lessons for guiding his
future conduct. Piso’s conduct showed that he was
highly deserving this distinction : in all his deportment
there appeared such modesty, firmness, and equality of
mind.
Itome.
]{ o .M [ 208 ] E O M
liome.
31$
Otho de •
dared em¬
peror.
319
Galba mur¬
dered.
mind, ss l>pspoli6 lnm vutlicr cspulolc or diSLliurgin^?,
than ambitious of obtaining, his present dignity. But
the army and the senate did not seem equally disinte¬
rested upon this occasion; they had been so long used to
bribery and corruption, that they could now bear no
emperor who was not in a capacity of satisfying then-
avarice. The adoption therefore of Tiso was but coldly
received ; for his virtues were no recommendation in a
nation of universal depravity.
Otho now- finding his hopes of adoption wholly frus¬
trated, and still further stimulated by the immense load
of debt wh’ch he had contracted by his riotous way of
living, resolved upon obtaining the empire by force,
since he could not by peaceable succession. In fact,
his circumstances were so very desperate, that he was
heard to say, that it was equal to him whether he fell
by his enemi s in the field or by his creditors in the
city. He therefore raised a moderate sum of money,
by sell ng his interest to a person who wanted a place;
and with this bribed t" o subaltern officers in the prae¬
torian bands supplying the deficiency of largesses by
promises and plausible pretences. Having in this man¬
ner, in less than eight days, corrupted the fidelity of
the soldiers, he stole secretly from the emperor while
he was sacrificing; and assembling the soldiers, in a
short speech urged the cruelties and avarice of Calba.
Finding these his invectives received with universal
shouts by the whole army, he entirely threw off the
mask, and avowed his intentions of dethroning him.
The soldiers being ripe for sedition, immediately se¬
conded his vie s: taking Otho upon their shoulders,
they instantly proclaimed him emperor; and, to strike
the c itizens with terror, carried him with their swords
drawn into the camp.
Galba, in the mean time, being informed of the re¬
volt of the army, seemed utterly confounded, and in
want of sufficient resolution to face an event which he
should have long foreseen. In this manner the poor old
man continued wavering and doubtful; till, at last, be¬
ing deluded by a false report of Otho's being slain, he
rode into the forum in complete armour, attended by
many of his followers. Just at the same instant a
body of horse sent from the camp to destroy him en¬
tered on the opposite side, and ea> h party prepared
for the encounter. For some time hostilities weresus-
pended on each side ; Galba, confused and irresolute,
and his antagonists struck with, horror at the baseness
of their enterprise. At length, however, finding the
emperor in some measure deserted by his adherents,
they rushed in upon him, trampling under foot the
crowds of people that then filled the forum. Galba see¬
ing them approach, seemed to recollect all his former
fortitu'ie ; and bending his head forward, bid the assas¬
sins strike it off if it were for the good of the people.
This was quickly performed; and his head being set
upon the point of a lance, was pre sented to Otho, who
ordered it to be contemptuously carried round the camp;
his body remaining exposed in the streets till it was bu¬
ried by one of his slaves. He died in the 73d year of
his age, after a short reign of seven months.
No s oner was Galba thus murdered, than the se¬
nate and people ran in crowds to the camp, contend¬
ing who should be foremost in extolling the virtues of
the new emperor, and depressing the character of h m
they had so unjustly destroyed. Each laboured to ex¬
cel the rest in his instances of homage ; and the less his k_
affections were for him, the more did lie indulge ail w,
the vehemence of exaggerated praise. Otho finding ^
himself surrounded by congratulating mult tudes, im¬
mediately repaired to the senate, where he received the
titles usually given to the emperors; and from thence
returned to the palace, seemingly resolved to reform his
life, and assume manners becoming the greatness of his
station.
He began his reign by a signal instance of clc Tien-
cy, bv pardoning Marius Celsus, who had been highly
favoured by Galba; and not contented with barely for.
giving, he advan ed him to the highest honours; as¬
sert ng, that “ fidelity deserved every reward.” This
act of clemency was followed by another of justice,
equally agreeable to the people. Tigellinus, Nero’s fa¬
vour te, he who had been the promoter of ail his cruel¬
ties, was now put to death; and all such as had been
unjustly banished, or stripped, at his instigation, during
Nero’s reign, were restored to their country and for¬
tunes.
In the mean time, the legions in Lower Germany yit^
having been purchased by the large gifts and spec ous retols
promises of Vitellius their general, were at length in¬
duced to proclaim him emperor; and regardless of the
senate, declared th t they had an equal right to ap.
point to that high station w ith the cohorts at Rome,
f he news of this conduct in the army soon spread con¬
sternation throughout Rome; but Otho was particu¬
larly struck with the account, as being apprehensive
that nothing but the blood of his countrymen could
decide a contest of which his own ambition only was
the cause. He now therefore sought to come to an
agreement with Vitellius ; but this not succeeding, both
sides began their preparations for war. News being
received that Vitellius was upon his march to Italy,
Otho departed from Rome with a vast army to oppose
him. But though he was very powerful with regard
to numbers, his men, being little used to war, could
not be relied on He seemed by his behaviour sen¬
sible of the disproportion of his forces ; and he is said
to have been tortured with frightful dreams and the
most uneasy apprehensions. It is also reported by
some, that one night fetching many profound sighs in
his sleep, his servants ran hastily to his bed-side, and
found him stretched on the ground. He alleged he
had seen the ghost of Galba, which had, in a threaten¬
ing manner, beat and pushed him from the bed; and
he afterwards used many ex tations to appease it. How¬
ever this be, he procee ed '»ith a great show of cou¬
rage till he arrived at the city of Brixellum, on the ri¬
ver Po, where he remained, sending his forces before
him -under the conduct of his generals Suetonius and
Celsus, who made what haste they could to give the
enemy battle. The army of Vitellius, which consisted
of <0,000 men, was commanded by his generals Va-
lens and Cecina, he himself remaining in Gaul in order «]
to bring up die rest of his forces. Thus both s ties
hastened to meet each other with so much animosity
and precipitation, that three considerable battles were
fought in the space of three days. G) e near PI. centia,
another near Cremona, and a third at a [ lace called
Castor; in all which Otho had the advantage. But
these successes were but of short lived continuance; fa1’
\ ajens and Cecina, who had hitherto acted se};arately<
Pome.
TTmi-r?,
3‘.'1
•tho de¬
lated at
^driacum.
S22
lespairs
ad kills
imself.
325
ritellius
eclated
Dperor.
ii o ivi
[ 209 ]
n
o M
joining' their forces, and reinforcing their armies with
fresh supplies, resolved to come to a general engage¬
ment. Otho, who by this time had joined his army
at a little village called Bedriacitm, finding the enemy,
notwithstanding their late losses, inclined to come to a
battle, resolved to call a council of war to determine
upon the proper measures to be taken. His generals
■were of opinion to protract the Avar: but others, whose
inexperience had given them confidence, declared, that
nothing but a battle could relieve the miseries of the
state; protesting, that Fortune, and all the gods, with
the divinity of the emperor himself, favoured the de¬
sign, and would undoubtedly prosper the enterprise.
In this advice Otho acquiesced : he had been for some
time so uneasy under the Avar, that he seemed Avilling
to exchange suspense for danger. However, he was so
surrounded with flatterers, that he was prohibited from
being personally present in the engagement, but pre¬
vailed upon to reserve himself for the fortune of the
empire, and Avait the event at Brixellum. The affairs
of both armies being thus adjusted, they came to an en¬
gagement at Bedriacum; Avhere, in the beginning,
those on the side of Otho seemed to have the advantage.
At length, the superior discipline of the legions of Vi-
tellius turned the scale of victory. Otho’s army fled in
great confusion towards Bedriacum, being pursued with
a miserable slaughter all the Avay.
In the mean time, Otho Avaited for the neAVs of the
battle with great impatience, and seemed to tax his mes¬
sengers Avith delay. The first account of his defeat was
brought him by a common soldier, Avho had escaped
from the field of battle. HoAvever, Otho, who was still
surrounded by flatterers, vvas desired to give no credit
to a base fugitive, Avho was guilty of falsehood only
to cover his oAvn coAvardice. The soldier, hoA\Tever, still
persisted in the veracity of his report; and, finding
none inclined to believe him, immediately fell upon his
sword, and expired at the emperor’s feet. Otho was
so much struck with the death of this man, that he
cried out, that he would cause the ruin of no more
such valiant and Avorthy soldiers, but would end the
contest the shortest way ; and therefore having exhorted
his folloAvers to submit to Vitellius, he put an end to
his oavu life.
It was no sooner known that Otho had killed him¬
self, than all the soldiers repaired to Virginius, the com¬
mander of the German legions, earnestly intreating him
to take upon him the reins of government; or at least,
intreating his mediation with the generals of Vitellius
in their favour. Upon his declining their request, itu-
brius Gallus, a person of considerable note, undertook
their embassy to the generals of the conquering army;
and soon after obtained a pardon for all the adherents
of Otho.
Vitellius was immediately after declared emperor by
the senate ; and received the marks of distinction which
were now accustomed to follow the appointment of the
strongest side. At the same time, Italy Avas severely
distressed by the soldiers, who committed such outrages
as exceeded all the oppressions of the most calamitous
war. Vitellius, who was yet in Gaul, resolved, before
he set out for Rome, to punish the praetorian cohorts,
who had been the instruments of all the late disturbances
m the state. He therefore caused them to be disarmed,
and deprived of the name and honour of soldiers. He
Vox, XVIII. Part I.
also ordered IdO of those avIio were most guilty to b"
put to death.
As he approached towards Rome, he passed through
the toAvns Avith all imaginable splendour; his p ssage by
water Avas in painted galleys, adorned with garlands of
flowers, and profusely furnished with the greatest deli¬
cacies. In his journey there Avas neither order nor dis¬
cipline among his soldiers; they plundered wherever
they came Avith impunity; and he seemed no way dis¬
pleased Avith the licentiousness of their behaviour
Upon his arrival at Rome, he entered the city, not
as a place he came to govern with justice, but as a town
that became his oavh by the laws of conquest. He
marched through the streets mounted on horseback, all
in armour ; the senate and people going before him, as
if the captives of his late victory. He the next day
made the senate a speech, in which he magnified his
own actions, and promised them extraordinary advan¬
tages from his administration. He then harangued the
people, who, being now long accustomed to flatter all
in authority, highly applauded and blessed their neAV
emperor.
In the mean time, his soldiers being permitted to sa- jIis shame_
tiate themselves in the debaucheries of the city, greAV fu] glut-
totally unfit for war. The principal affairs of the state tony, ami
wrere managed by the lowest wretches. Vitellius, more otlier vices‘
abandoned than they, gave himself up to all kinds of
luxury and profuseness ; but gluttony was his favourite
vice, so that he brought himself to a habit of vomit¬
ing, in order to renew his meals at pleasure. His en¬
tertainments, though seldom at his own cost, were pro¬
digiously expensive; he frequently invited himself to
the tables of his subjects, breakfasting Avith one, dining
with another, and supping with a third, all in the same
day. The most memorable of these entertainments
was that made for him by his brother on his arrival at
Rome. In this were served up 2000 several dishes of
fish, and 7000 of fowl, of the most valuable kinds.
But in one particular dish he seemed to have outdone
all the former profusion of the most luxurious Romans >
This dish, Avhich was of such magnitude as to be called
the shield of Minerva, was filled with an olio made from
the sounds of the fish called scarri, the brains of phea¬
sants and woodcocks, the tongues of the most costly
birds, and the spawn of lamprays brought from the Cas¬
pian sea. In order to cook this dish properly, a fur¬
nace was built in the fields, as it was too large for any
kitchen to contain it.
In this manner did Vitellius proceed; so that Jo¬
sephus tells us, if he had reigned Long, the whole empire
would not have been sufficient to have maintained his
gluttony. All the attendants of his court sought to
r.iise themselves not by their virtues and abilities, but
the sumptuousness of their entertainments. This pro¬
digality produced its attendant want; and that, in turn,
gave rise to cruelty. ^
Those who had formerly been his associates were
noAV destroyed without mercy. Going to visit one of
them in a violent fever, he mingled poison with his
water, and delivered it to him with his own hands. He
neArer pardoned those money-lenders v, ho came to de¬
mand payment of his former debts. One of the num¬
ber coming to salute him, he immediately ordered him
to be carried off to execution; but shortly arter com¬
manding him to be brought back, wflien all his attend-
t D d ants
Pi 0 M
Horn*.
[
327
Vespasian
proclaimed
emperor.
ants thought it was to pardon the unhappy creditor.
\ itellius gave them soon to understand that it was mere¬
ly to have the pleasure of feeding his eyes with his tor¬
ments. Having condemned another to death, he exe¬
cuted his two sons with him, only for their presuming
to intercede for their father. A Roman knight being
dragged away to execution, and crying out that he had
made the emperor his heir, Vitellius demanded to see
the wdl, where finding himself joint heir with another,
he ordered both to be executed, that he might enjoy
the legacy without a partner.
By the continuance of such vices and cruelties as
these he became odious to all mankind, and the astro¬
logers began to prognosticate his ruin. A writing was
set up in the forum to this effect: “ We, in the name
of the ancient Chaldeans, give Vitelhus warning to de¬
part this life by the kalends of October.” Vitellius,
on his part, received this information with terror, and
ordered all the astrologers to be banished from Rome.
An old woman having foretold, that if he survived his
mother, he should reign many years in happiness and
security, this gave him a desire of putting her to
death; which he d d, by refusing her sustenance, un¬
der the pretence of its being prejudicial to her health.
But he soon saw the futility of relying upon such vain
prognostications; for his soldiers, by their cruelty and
rapine, having become insupportable to the inhabitants
of Rome, the legions of the East, who had at first ac¬
quiesced in his dominion, began to revolt, and shortly
after unanimously resolved to make Vespasian emperor.
Vespasian, who was appointed commander against the
rebellious Jews, had reduced most of their country, ex¬
cept Jerusalem, to subjection. The death of Nero, how¬
ever, had at first interrupted the progress of his arms,
and the succession of Galba gave a temporary check to
his conquests, as he was obliged to send his son Titus to
Rone, to receive that emperor’s commands. Titus,
however, was so long detained by contrary winds, that
he received news of Galba’s death before he set sail.
He then resolved to continue neuter during the civil
wars between Otho and Vitellius ; and when the latter
prevailed, he gave him his homage with reluctance.
But being desirous of acquiring reputation, though he
disliked the government, he determined to lay siege to
Jerusalem, and actually made preparations for that great
undertaking, when he was given to understand that Vi¬
tellius was detested by all ranks in the empire. These
murmurings increased everyday, while Vespasian secret¬
ly endeavoured to advance the discontents of the army.
By these means they began at length to fix their eyes
upon him as the person the most capable and willing to
terminate the miseries of his country, and put a period
to Lie injuries it suffered. Not only the legions under
ins command, but those in Maesia and Pannonia, came
to the same resolution, so that they declared themselves
^ espasian. He was also without his own consent
proclaimed emperor at Alexandria, the army there con¬
firming it with extraordinary applause, and paying their
accustomed homage. Still, however, Vespasian seemed
to decline the honour done him; till at length his sol¬
diers compelled him, with their threats of immediate
death, to accept a title, which, in all probability, liewish-
< c to enjoy. He now, therefore, called a council of
war : where it was resolved, that his son Titus should
rarry on the war against the Jews; and that Mutianus,
210 ] ROM
one of his generals, should, with the greatest part of his Rome,
legions, enter Italy; while Vespasian himself should levy w-^
forces in all parts of the east, in order to reinforce them
in case of necessity.
During these preparations, Vitellius, though buried in
sloth and luxury, was resolved to make an effort to de¬
fend the empire ; wherefore his chief commanders, Va-
lens and Cecina, were ordered to make all possible pre¬
parations to resist the invaders. The first army that
entered Italy with an hostile intention was under the
command of Antonins Primus, who was met by Ce¬
cina near Cremona. A battle was expected to ensue ;
but a negociation taking place, Cecina was prevailed
upon to change sides, and declare for Vespasian. His
army, however, quickly repented of what they had done;
and imprisoning their general attacked Antonins, though 321
without a leader. The engagement continued during Vitellim
the whole night: in the morning, after a short repast, tle‘Gat^<
both armies engaged a second time ; when the soldiers
of Antonins saluting the rising sun, accordig to custom,
the Vitellians supposing that they had received new re.
inforcements, betook themselves to flight, with the loss
of 30,000 men. Shortly after, freeing their general
Cecina from prison, they prevailed upon him to inter¬
cede with the conquerors for pardon; which they ob¬
tained, though not without the most horrid barbarities
committed upon Cremona, the city to which they had
retired for shelter.
When Vitellius was informed of the defeat of his
army, his‘ormer insolence was converted into an extreme
of timidity and irresolution. At length he commanded
Julius Priscus and Alphenus Varus, with some forces
that were in readiness, to guard the passes of the Apen¬
nines, to prevent the enemy’s march to Rome ; reserv¬
ing the principal body of his army to secure the city,
under the command of his brother Lucius. But being
persuaded to repair to his army in person, his presence
only served to increase the contempt of his soldiers. He
there appeared irresolute, and still luxurious, without
council or conduct, ignorant of war, and demanding
from others those instructions which it was his duty to
give. After a short continuance in the camp, and un¬
derstanding the revolt of his fleet, he returned once more
to Rome : but every day only served to render his af¬
fairs still more desperate ; till at last he made offers to
Vespasian of resigning the empire, provided his life were
granted, and a sufficient revenue for his support. In
order to enforce his request, he issued from his palace in
deep mourning, with all his domestics weeping round
him. He then went to offer the sword of justice to Ce-
cilius, the consul; which he refusing, the abject empe¬
ror prepared to lay down the ensigns of the empire in
the temple of Concord. But being interrupted by
some, who cried out That he himself was Concord,
he resolved, upon so weak an encouragement, still to
maintain his power, and immediately prepared for his
defence.
During this fluctuation of counsels, one Sabinus, who
had advised Vitellius to resign, perceiving his desperate
situation, resolved, by a bold step, to oblige Vespasian,
and accordingly seized upon the Capitol. But he whs TheOpit*
premature in his attempt; for the soldiers of Vitellius burnt,
attacked him with great fury, and, prevailing by their
numbers, soon laid that beautiful building in ashes.
During tnis dreadful conflagration, Vitellius was feast¬
ing
K 0 M [
in^ in the p ilace of Tiberius, and beholding all the
horrors of the assault with great satisfaction. Sabinus
was taken prisoner, and shortly after executed by the
emperor’s command. Young Domilian, his nephew,
who was afterwards emperor, escaped by flight, in tire
habit of a priest; and all the rest who survived the fire
■were put to the sword.
But this success served little to improve the affairs of
Vitellms. He vainly sent messenger after messenger to
bring \ espasian’s general, Antonins, to a composition.
I his commander gave no answer to his requests, but
still continued his march towards Rome. Being arri¬
ved before the walls of the city, the forces of Vitellius
•were resolved upon defending it to the utmost extremi¬
ty. It was attacked on three sides with the utmost
fury; while the army within, sallying upon the besie¬
gers, defended it with equal obstinacy. The battle last¬
ed a whole day, till at last the besieged were driven in¬
to the city, and a dreadful slaughter made of them in all
the streets, which they vainly attempted to defend. In
the mean time, the citizens stood by, looking on as
both sides fought; and, as if they had been in a theatre,
clapped their hands ; at one time encouraging one par-
ty, and again the other. As either turned their backs,
the citizens would then fall upon them in their places
of refuge, and so kill and plunder them without mercy.
But what was still more remarkable, during these
dreadful slaughters both within and without the city,
the people would not be prevented from celebrating
one of tneir riotous feasts, called the Saturnalia; so
that at one time might have been seen a stransre mix¬
ture of mirth and misery, of cruelty and lewdness ; in
one place, buryings and slaughters ; in another, drunk¬
enness and feasting; in a word, all the horrors of a ci¬
vil war, and all the licent’ousness of the most abandon¬
ed security !
During this complicated scene of misery Vitellius re¬
tired privately to his wife’s house, upon Mount Aven-
tine, designing that night to fly to the army command¬
ed by his brother at Tarracina. But, quite incapable,
through fear, of forming any resolution, he changed his
mind, and returned again to his palace, now' void and
desolate; all his slaves forsaking him in his distress, and
purposely avoiding his presence. There, after wander¬
ing for some time quite disconsolate, and fearing the
face of every creature he met, lie hid himself in an ob¬
scure corner, from whence he was soon taken by a party
of the conquering soldiers. Still, hoAvever, willing to
add a few hours more to his miserable life, he begged
to be kept in prison till the arrival of Vespasian at Rome,
pretending that he had secrets of importance to discover.
But his entreaties were vain : the soldiers binding his
hands behind him, and throwing an halter round his
neck, led him along, half naked, into the public forum,
upbraiding him, as they proceeded, with all those bitter
reproaches their malice could suggest, or his own cruel¬
ties deserve. -They also tied his hair backwards as was
usual with the most infamous malefactors, and held the
point of a sword under his chin to prevent his hiding
his face from the public. Some cast dirt and filth upon
him as he passed, others struck him with their hands;
some ridiculed the defects of his person, his red fiery
face,and the enormous greatness of his belly. At length
being come to the place of punishment, they killed him
■mth many blows; and then dragging the dead body
11 ]
It 0 M
through the streets with an hook, they threw it, with
all possible ignominy, into the river Tiber. Su li was
tiie miserable end of this emperor, in the 57th year of
his age, after a short reign of eight months and five
days.
\ itellius being dead, the conquering army pursued
their enemies throughout the city, while neither houses
nor temples afforded refuge to the fugitives. The
streets and public places were all strewed with dead,
each man lying slain where it was his misfortune to be
overtaken by his unmerciful pursuers. But not only
the enemy suffered in this manner, but many of the citi ¬
zens, who w'ere obnoxious to the soldiers, were dragged
from their houses, and killed without any form of trial
The heat of their resentment being somewhat abated,
they next began to seek for plunder; and under pre¬
tence of searching for the enemy, left no place without
marks of their rage or rapacity. Besides the soldiers,
the lower rabble joined in these detestable outrages ;
some slaves came and discovered the riches of their mas¬
ters ; some were detected by their nearest friends ; the
whole city was filled with outcry and lamentation ; in¬
somuch, that the former ravages of Otho and Vitellius
were now considered as slight evils in comparison.
L pon the arrival of Mutianus, general to Vespasian,
these slaughters ceased, and the state began to assume
the appearance of former tranquillity. Vespasian w s
declared emperor by the unanimous consent both of the
senate and the army; and dignified with all those titles,
which now followed rather the power than the merit of
those W'ho were appointed to govern. Messengers were
dispatched to him into Egypt, desiring his return, and
testifying the utmost desire for his government. How¬
ever, the winter being dangerous for sailing, he deferred
his voyage to a more convenient season. Perhaps, also,
the dissensions in other parts of the empire retarded his
return to Rome; for one Claudius Civilis, in Lower
Germany, excited his countrymen to revolt, and de¬
stroyed the Roman garrisons, which were placed in dif¬
ferent parts of that province. But, to give his rebellion
an air of justice, lie caused his army to swear allegiance
to Vespasian, until he found himself in a condition to
throw off the mask. When he thought himself suffi¬
ciently powerful, he disclaimed all submission to the Ro¬
man government; and having overcome one or two of
the lieutenants of the empire, and being joined by such
of the Romans as refused obedience to the new emperor,
he boldly advanced to give Cerealis, Vespasian’s general,
battle. In the beginning of this engagement, he seem¬
ed successful, breaking the Roman legions, and put¬
ting their cavalry to flight. But at length Cerealis by
his conduct turned the fate of the day, and not only
routed the enemy, but took and destroyed their camp.
This engagement, however, was not decisive; several
others ensued with doubtful success. An accommoda¬
tion at length took place. Civilis obtained peace for
his countrymen, and pardon for himself; for the Roman
empire was, at this time, so torn by its own divisions,
that the barbarous nations around made incursions with
impunity, and were sure of obtaining peace whenever
they thought proper to demand it.
During the time of these commotions in Germany,
the Sarmatians, a barbarous nation in the north-east of
the empire, suddenly passed the river Iser, and marched
into the Roman dominions with such celerity and fury,
D d 2 a.$
I! mns.
351
Dreadful
cruelties
practised
by the sol¬
diers.
332
Vespasian
proclaimed
emperor of
Home.
333
Jlevolt of
Claudius
Civilis.
334
IrmptioH
of the Sar*
Koine.
335
Titus sent
against Je¬
rusalem.
33G
Various
abuses re¬
formed by
Vespasian,
R O M [ 212 ] ft O M
as to destroy several garrisons, and an army under the
command of Fonteius Agrippa. They were driven back
by Rubnus Oallus, \ espasian s lieutenant, into theii na¬
tive forests; where several attempts were made to con¬
fine them by garrisons : nd forts, placed along the con¬
fines of their country. But these hardy nations, having
once found the way into the empire, never alter desisted
from invading it upon every opportunity, till at length
they overran and destroyed it entirely.
Vespasian continued some months at Alexandria in
Egypt, where it is said he cured a blind and a lame man
by touching them. Before he set out for Rome, he gave
his son Titus the command of the army which was to
lay siege to Jerusalem ; while he himself went forward,
and was met immy miles from Rome by all the senate,
and near half the* inhabitants, who gave the sincerest
testimonies of their joy, in having an emperor of such
great and experienced virtues. Nor did he in the least
disappoint their expectations; being equally assiduous
in re ward ng merit, and pardoning his adversaries ; in
re orming the manners of the citizens, and setting
them the best example in his own.
In the mean time, Titus carried on the war against
the Jews with vigour, which ended in the terrible de¬
struction of the city, mentioned under the article Jews.
After which his soldiers would have crowned Titus as
conqueror ; but he refused the honour, alleging that he
was only an instrument in the hand of Heaven, that
manifestly declared its wrath against the Je s. 't
Rome, however, all mouths were filled * ith the praises
of the conqueror, who had not only showed himself an
excellent general, but a courageous combatant: his re¬
turn, therefore, in triumph, which he did-with his fa¬
ther, was marked with all the magnificence and joy that
was in the power of men to exyress. All things that
were esteemed valuable or beautiful among men wrere
brought to adorn this great occasion. Among the rich
spoils were exposed vast quantities of gold taken out of
tile temple; but the book of their law wras not the
least remarkable amongst the magnificent profusion. A
triumphal arch was erected upon this occasion, on w hich
were described all the victories of Titus over the JewTs,
which remains almost entire to this very day. Vespa¬
sian likewise built a temple to Peace, wherein were de¬
posited most of the Jewish spoils; and having now calm¬
ed all the commotions in every part of the empire, he
shut up the temple of Janus, which had been oc en about
five or six years.
Vespasian having thus given security and peace to the
empire,resolved to correct numberless abuses which had
grown up under the tyranny of his predecessors. To
effect this with greater ease, he joined Titus w ith him
in the consulship and tribunitial power,and insome mea¬
sure admitted him a partner in all the highest offi. es of
the state. He began with restraining the licentiousness
of the army, and forcing them back to their pristine
discipline. He abridged the processes that had been
carried to an unreasonable length in the courts of justice.
He took care to rebuild such parts of the city as had
suffered in the late commotions ; particularly the Capi¬
tol, which had been lately burnt; and which he now
restored to more than former magnificence. He like¬
wise built a famous amphitheatre, the ruins of which are
to this day an evidence of its ancient grandeur. The
other ruinous cities of the empire algo shared his pater¬
nal care ; he improved such as w^ere declining, adorned RcmJ
others, and built many anew. In such acts as these he 'by¬
passed a long reign of clemency and moderation ; so
that it is said, no man suffered by an unjust or a severe
decree during his administration. ^
Julius Sabinas seems to be the only person v. ho was Advemu
treated with greater rigour than was usual with this em- and deal
peror. Sabinus was commander of a small army in 0/Ju!luf
Gaul, and bad declared himself emperor upon the death SabiLUi'
of Vitellius. But his army was shortly after overcome
by Vespasian’s general, and he himself comp iled to
seek safety by flight. He wandered for some time
through the Roman provinces, without being discovered:
but finding the pursuit every day become t loser, be \v as
obliged to hide himself in a cave ; and in it he remained
concealed for no less than nine years, attended all the
time by his faithful w fe Empona, who provided provi¬
sions for him by day, and repaired to him by night.
She was at last discovered in the performance of this
pious office, and Sabinus was taken prisoner and carried
to Rome. Great intercession vras made to the emperor
in his behalf: Empona herself appearin - with her two
children, and imploring her husband’s pardon. But
neither her tears nor entreaties could prevail; Sabinus
had been too dangerous a riv.1 for mercy ; so that,
though she and her children w ere spared, her husband*
suffered by the executioner. ^
But this seems to be the only instance in which here- Clemem
sented past offences. He caused the daughter of Vitel- and g'-'f
lius, his avowed enemy, to be married into a noble fa-
mily, and he himself provided her a suitable fortune. ror ^
One of Nero’s servants coming to beg ibr pardon for
having once rudely thrust him out of the palace, and in¬
sulted him when in office, Vespasian only took his re¬
venge by serving him just in the same manner. When
any plots or conspiracies w'ere formed against him, he
disdained to punish the guilty, saying, That they de¬
served rather his contempt for their ignorance, than his
resentment; as they seemed to envy him a dignity of
which he daily experienced the uneasiness. His libera¬
lity towards the encouragement of arts and learning,
wras not less than his clemency. He settled a constant
salary of 100,000 sesterces upon the teavhers of rheto¬
ric. He was particularly favourable to Josephus, the
Jewish historian. Quintilian the orator, and Pliny the
naturalist, flourishe i in hisreign, and were highly esteem¬
ed by h:m. He was no less an encourager o’ all other
excellencies in art; and invited the greatest masters anti
artificers from all parts of the world, making them con¬
siderable presents, as he found occasion.
Yet all his numerous acts of generosity and magnifi¬
cence could not preserve his character from the impu¬
tation of rapacity and avarice. He revived many obso¬
lete methods of taxation; and even bought and ^old
commodities himself, in order to increase hi- fortune.
Ele is charged with advancing the most avarieiou' go¬
vernors to the province*, in order to share their plunder
on their return to Rome. He descended to some very
unusual and dishonourable imposts, even to the laying
a tax upon urine. When his son Titus remonstrated
against the meanness of such a tax, Ve pasian taking a
piece of money, demande t if the smell offended him ;
and then added, that this very money was produced by
urine. But in excuse for this, we must observe, that
the exchequer, when Vespasian came to the throne.
R O M
[ £18 ]
M O
9
If af
v't sian.
10
^ SUC‘
le :o the
was so much exhausted, that he informed the senate the former ministers of his pleasures, and forebore to
that it would require a supply of three hundnd mii- countenance the companions of his looser recreations
lions (of onr money) to re-estal lish the commonwealth, though he ha i formerly taken great pains in the selec-
Thi- necessity mu -t naturally produce more numerous tion. 'i'his moderation, added to his justice and gene-
and heavy taxation^ h n the empire had hitherto expe- rosity, procured him the love of all goon men, amt the
rienced ; I ut wliile the provinces were thus obliged to appellation of the ddu ht of mankind, which all his ac-
contribute to the support of his power, he took - very tions seemed calculated to ensure. As he came to the
Howie.
precaution to t rovie for their safety ; so that we find throne with all the advantages of his father’s popularity,
bu’two insurrections in this reign.— In the fourth year he 1 1 " ’ ’ ‘
was resolved to use every method to im rease it. He
of his reign, Anti chus king of C magene, holding a therefore took particular care to punish all informers
private correspondence with the Parthians the declared false witnesses, an . promoters of dissension, condemning
enemies of Rome, was taken prisoner in Cilicia, by them to be scourge l m the most public streets, next to
Pyn him the governor, and sent bound to Rome. But be dragged through the theatre, and then to be bank h-
Vesr asiau generously prevented all ill treatment, by ed to the uninhabited parts of the empire, and sold s
giving Inm a residence at Lacedaemon, and allowing slaves. His courtesy and readiness o do goo have been
him a evenue suitable to hm dignity. About the same celebrated even by Christian writers; his principal ride
time .iso, the Alani, a barbarous people inhabiting being, never to send any petitioner dissatisfied away,
along the river Tanuis, abandoned their barren wilds. One night, recollecting that lie had one nothing bene-
and invaded the kingdom of' Mectia. From thence pas- ficial to mankind the day preceding, he cried out among
sing into Armenia, after great ravages, tin y overthrew his friends, “ I have lost a day/’ A sentence too re-
Tiridates, the king of that country, with prodigious
sktighter. Titus was at length sent to cha'tne their
insolence ; but the barbarians retired at the approach of
the Roman army, loaded with plunder, being compel¬
led to wait a more favourable opportunity oh renewing
341
markable not to be universally known.
In this reign, an eruption of Mount Vesuvius did A dread-
considerable warn age, o erwhelming many tov ns, and iul erup-
sending its ashes into countries more than loo miles tlon oi Ve'
distant. Upon this memorable occasion, Pi ny the na- &UV1US*
their irruptions. These incursions, however, weie but turalist lost his life ; for, being impede i by too eager a
a transient storm, the effects oh which were soon ^e- curiosity to observe the enq tion, he was suffocate ' in
paired by the emperor’' moderation and assiduity. We the flames *. There happened also about this t me a
are t<dd, that he now formed and established a thousand fire at Rome, wrhich continued three days and nights
nations, which h .d sc rcely befo e amounted to 200. successively, wrhich was follow ed by a plague, in which
* See Vesu*
VIUS.
No provinces in the empire 1 y out of his view and
protection. He had. during his whole rei*>n, a parti¬
cular regard to Britain ; his generals, Petilius t crealis,
and Julius Frontinus. brought the greatest part of the
island into subjection; and Agrico a, who succee ed
10,000 men were buried in a day. The emperor, how¬
ever, o id all that lay in his power to repair the damage
sustained by the public ; and, with respect to the city,
declai ed that he ’* ould take the whole loss of it upon
himself These uisasters were in some measure counter-
342
soon after, completed what they had begun. See Eng- balanced by the successes in Britain, under Aeriecla A8"coIa
"wi • n . , , . . _ o • civilizes
land. This excellent general having been sent into that coun- ^ BliE,
In this manner, having reigned 10 years, loved by try towards the latter end of Vespasian’s reign, showed tons,
his subjects, and deserving their affection, he was sur- himself equally expert in quelling the refractory, and
prised by an indisposition at Campania, which he at civilizing those who had formerly submitted to the Ro-
once declared would be fatal, crying out, in the spirit man power. The Or ovices, or inhabitants of North
of Paganism, “ Methinks lam going to be a god.” Wales, were the first that were subdued Fie then made
Removing from thence to the city, and afterwards to a a descent ut-on Mona, or the slant! of Anglesea ;
country-se <t near Reate, he was there taken with a flux, which surrendered at discretion. Having thus rendered
which brought him to the last extremity. H >wevt r, himself master of the whole country, he took every ire-
perceiving his end approach, and just going to expire, thod to restore discipline to his own army, and to intro-
he cried out, that an emperor ought to die standing ; duce some share of politeness ai’ ong those w ho •• he
had conquered. He exhorted them, both by advice
and example, to build teoples, theatres, and stately
houses. He caused the sons of their nobility to be in¬
structed in the liberal arts; he had then- taught the
Latin language, and induced them to imitate the Ro¬
man modes of dressing and living. Thus, by degrees,
this barbarous people began to assume the luxurious
manners of the conquerors, and in time even outdid
them in all the refinements of sensual pleasure. For the
success in Britain, Titus was salute * emperor the ] .' th
tin e; but he did not long survive his honours, being
seize 1 with a violent fever at a little distance from
Rome. Perceiving his'death to approach, he declared,
that uring the whole course of his 1 fe he knewr but of rr’tus dl0il'
one act on wh.ch he repented of; but that act on he did
not think proper to express. Sho: tly aftei, he d ed (not
w thout suspicion of treachery from Ins brother Do ni-
He next discarded all those who had been tian, who had long wished to govern) m the 41st y ear
of
wherefore, raising himself upon his feet, he expired in
the hands of those that sustained him.
Titus being joyfully received as emperor, notwidr-
standmg a slight opposition from his brother Domitian,
who maintained that he himself was appointed, and that
Titus had falsified the will, began his reign with every
virtue that became an emperor and a man. During the
life of his fiiher there had been m ny imputations
against him ; but upon his exaltation to the throne he
seenud emir ly to take leave of his former vices, and
became an example of the greatest moderation and hu¬
manity. He had long loved Berenice, sister to Agrip-
pa king of Judea, a woman of the greatest beauty and
allurements. But knowing that the com ec ion with
her w,,s entirely disagreeable to the people of Rome,
he sent her away, notwithstanding their mutual pa-sion
and the many arts she used to induce him to change his
resolutions.
ROM [ 214
Heme, of Ills a"e, having reigned two years two months and
twenty days.
241- Th*1 1 >ve which all ranks of people bore to Titus, fa-
Suceeeiled c;pta’ed the election of his brother Domitian, notwith-
tian^0111* &tandin r the ill opinion many had already conceived of
him. His amb tio i was already but too well known,
and his pride soon appeared upon his coming to the
throne ; having been beard to declare, that he had
given the empire to his father and brother, and now
received it again as his due.
The oeginning of his reign was universally accept¬
able to the people, as he appeared [equally remarkable
for his clemency, liberality, and justice. He carried
his abhorrence of cruelty so far, as at one time to for¬
bid the sacrificing of oxen. His liberality was such,
that h'1 wo dd not accept of the le-racies that were left
him by such as ha 1 children of their own. His justice
was such, that he would sit whole daj's and reverse the
partial sentences of the ordinary judges. He appeared
very careful and liberal in repairing the libraries which
had been burnt, and recovering copies of such books as
had been lost, sending on purpose to Alexandria to
transcribe them. But he soon began to show the natu¬
ral deformity of his mind. Instead of cultivating lite¬
rature, as his father and brother had done, he neglected
all kinds of study, addicting himself wholly to the
meaner pursuits, particularly archery and gaming. No
emperor before him entertained the people with such
various and expensive show's. During these diversions
he distributed great rewards ; sitting as president him¬
self, adorned with a purple rdbe and crown, with the
priests of Jupiter and the collegeof Flavian priests about
him. The meanness of his occupations in solitude were
a just contrast to his exhibitions in public ostentation.
He usually spent his hours of retirement in catching
flies, and sticking them through with a bodkin; so that
one of his servants being asked if the emperor was alone,
34,5 he answered, that he had not so much as a fly to bear
fits enor- him company. His vices seemed every day to increase
fftous vices* with the duration of his reign; and as he thus became
m re ocnous to his people, all their murmurs only ser¬
ved to ai d strength to his suspicions, and malice to his
cruelty. His ungrateful treatment of Agricola seemed
the first symptom of Ms natural malevolence. Domitian
was alw- ys particularly fond of obtaining a military re¬
putation and therefore jealous of it in others. He had
marched some time befrre into Gaul, upon a pretend¬
ed expedition against the Catti, a people of Germany;
and, w th ut ever seeing the enemy, ;esolved to have
the honour of a triumph upon his return 16 Rome. For
tint purpose he purchased a number of slaves, whom he
dressed in German habits; and at the head of this mi-
sera e prove sion entered the city, amidst the apparent
acclamations and concealed contempt of all his subjects.
Hi*- successes, therefore, of Agricola, in Britain, affect¬
ed him with an extreme degree of envy. This admi¬
rable general, who is scarce" mentioned by any wri¬
ter except lacitu-, pursued the advantages which he
had ateady ob’aioed. He routed the Caledonians;
over cure Gag cus, the British chief, at the head of
* Sec Scot. 5 >,00° n'en ’ an,J afterwards sending out a fleet to scour
i/ntd. the coast, fh-'t disf oveied G- eat Britain to be an island*.
He likewise dis ov- red and subdued the Orkneys, and
thus reduced the whole into a civilized province of the
Roman empire. When the account of these successes
] R O M
was brought to Domitian, he received it with a seeming Home,
pleasure, but real uneasiness. He thought Agiicola's u*yn
ris:ng reputation a reproach upon his own inactivity;
and, instead of attempting to emulate, he resolved to
suppress thi merit of his services. He ordered him,
therefore, the external marks of his approbation, and
took care that triumphant ornaments, statues, and other
honours, should be decreed him ; but at the same time
he removed him from his command, under a pretence of
appointing him to the government of Syria. By these
means. Agricola surrendered up his government to Sa-
lustius Lueulius, but soon found that Syria was other¬
wise disposed of. Upon his return to Rome, which was
private’y and by night, he was coolly received by the
emperor; and dying some time after in retirement, it
was supposed by some that his end was hastened by Do-
mitian’s direction.
Domitian soon after found the want of so experienced 3-16
a commander in the many irruptions of the barbarous Manyb
nations that surrounded the empire. The Sarmatians . ust
in Furope, joined with those in Asia, made a formi-vadetlie
liable invasion ; at once destroying a whole legion, and empire*
a general of the Romans. The Dacians, under the
conduct of Decebalus their king, made an irruption,
and overthrew the Romans in several engagements.
Losses were followed by los-.es, so that every season be¬
came memorable for some remarkable overthrow. At
last, however, the state making a vigorous exertion of
its internal power, the barbarians were repelled, p .rtly
by force and partly by the assistance of money, which
only served to enable ‘hern to make future invasions to
greater advantage. But in whatever manner the enemy
might have been repelled, Domitian was resolved not
to lose the honour of a triumph. Fie returned m great
splendour to Rome; and not contented with thus tri¬
umphing twice without a victory, he resolved to take
the surname of Germanicus, for his conquest over a peo¬
ple with whom he never contended.
In proportion as the ridicule increased against him,
his pride seemed every day to demand greater homage.
He would permit his statues to be made only of gold
and silver ; assumed to himself divine honours ; and or¬
dered that all men should treat him with the same ap¬
pellations w'hich they gave to the divinity. His cruelty
was not behind his arrogance; he caused numbers of
the most illustrious senators and others to be put to
death upon the most trifling pretences. Salustius Lu-
cullus, his lieutenant in Britain, was destroyed only tor
having given his own name to a new sort of lances of
his own invention. Junius Rusticus died lor publishing
a book, in which he commended Thrasea and Priscus,
two philosophers who opposed Vespasian's coming to
the throne.
Such cruelties as these, that seem almost without a
motive, may naturally be supposed to have produced re¬
bellion. Lucius Antonins, governor in Upper Ger¬
many, knowing how much the emperur wa* detested at
home, assumed the ensigns of imperial dignity. As he
was at the head of a formidable at my, his success re¬
mained long doubtful; but a sudden overflowing of the
Rhine chv ding his army, he was se: upon ac th.»t junc¬
ture by Normandu , t e emperor’s general, ai d totally
routed. The news of this victory, we are told, was
brought to R. .me fry supernatural means, on the same
day that the battle was fought. Domitian’s severity
was
ROM [2
■ me. was greatly increased by this success, of short duration.
^ In order to discover those who were accomplices with
kj( rous the adverse party, he invented new tortures, sometimes
cm y if cutting off the hamis, at other times thrusting fire in-
the ipe- to the privities, of the people whom lie suspected of be-
m‘ ing his enemies. During these cruelties, lie aggravated
their guilt by hypocrisy, never pronouncing sentence
without a preamble full of gentleness and mercy. He
was particularly terrible to the senate and nobility, the
whole body of whom he frequently threatened entirely
to extirpate. At one time, he surrounded the senate-
house with his troops, to the great consternation of the
senators. At another he resolved to amuse himself
with their terrors in a different manner. Having in¬
vited them to a public entertainment, he received them
all very formally at the entrance of his palace, and con¬
ducted theminto a spacioushall, hunground withblack,
and illuminated by a few melancholy lamps, that dif¬
fused light only sufficient to show the horrors of the
place. All around were to be seen nothing but coffins,
with the names of each of the senators written upon
them, together with other objects of terror, and instru¬
ments of execution. While the company beheld ail
the preparations with silent agony, several men, having
their bodies blackened, each with a drawn sword in one
hand and a flaming torch in the other, entered the hall,
? and danced round them. After some time, when the
guests expected nothing less than instant death, well
knowing Domitian’s capricious cruelty, the doors were
set open, and one of the servants came to inform them,
that the emperor gave all the company leave to with¬
draw.
These cruelties^were rendered still more odious by
his lust and avarice. Frequently after presiding at an
execution, he would retire with the lewdest prostitutes,
and use the same baths which they did. His avarice,
which was the consequence of his profusion, knew no
bounds. He seized upon the estates of all against whom
he could find the smallest ptetensions ; the most trifling
p ts action or word against the majesty of the prince wras
Iherse- sufficient to ruin the possessor. He particularly exacted
r large sums from the rich Jews; who even then began to
nian° practise the art of peculation, for which they are at
present so remarkable. He was excited against them,
not only by avarice, but by jealousy. A p:ophecy
had been long current in the east, that a person from
the line or David should rule the world. Whereupon,
this suspicious tyrant, willing to evade the prediction,
commanded all the Jews of the lineage of David to be
diligently sought out, and put to death. Two Chris¬
tians, grandsons of St June the apostle, of that line,
were brought before him ; but finding them poor, and
no way ambitious of temporal power, he dismissed them,
considering them as objects too mean for his jealousy.
However, his persecution of the Christians vras more
severe than that of any of his predecessors. By his
letters and edicts they were banished in several parts of
the empire, and put to death with all the tortures of
ingenious cruelty. The predictions of Chaldeans and
astrologers also, concerning his death, gave him most
violent apprehensions, and kept him in the most tor¬
menting disquietude. As he approached towards the
end of his reign, he would permit no criminal, or pri¬
soner, to be brought into his presence, till they were
bound in such a manner as to be incapable of injuring
15 ] R 0 M
him ; and he generally secured their chains in his own Rowe,
hands. His jealousies increased to that degree, that he »“*-*
ordered the gallery in which he walked to be set round
with a pellucid stone, which served as a mirror to reflect
the persons of all such as approached him from behind.
Every omen and prodigy gave him fresh anxiety.
But a period was soon to be put to this monster’s A compi-
cruelty. Among the number of those whom he at once racy form-
caressed and suspected, vras his wife Domitia, whom ed against
he had taken from iElius Lama, her former husband, hkn.
This woman, however, was become obnoxious to him,
for having placed her affections upon one Paris, a
player; and he resolved to dispatch her, with several
others that he either hated or suspected. It was the ty¬
rant’s method to put down the names of ali such as he
intended to destroy in his tablets, which he kept about
him with great circumspection. Domitia, fortunately
happening to get a sight of them, was struck at finding
her own name in the catalogue of those fated to destruc¬
tion. She showed the fatal list to Norhanus and Pe-
tronius, praefects of the praetorian bands, who found
themselves set dowrn ; as likewise to Stephanas, the
comptroller of the household, who came into the con¬
spiracy with alacrity. Parthenius also, the chief cham¬
berlain, was of the number. These, after many con¬
sultations, determined on the first opportunity to put
their design into execution; and at length fixed on the
18th day of Septemi-er for the completion or their at¬
tempt. Domitian, whose death was every day fore¬
told by the astrologers, who, of consequence, must at
last be right in their predictions, was in Sv)me measure
apprehensive of that day: and as he had been ever ti¬
morous, so he was now more particularly upon his
guard. Fie had some time before secluded himself in
the most secret recesses of his palace; and at midnight
was so affrighted as to h ap out of his bed, inquiring
of his attendants what hour of the night it was. Upon
their falsely assuring him that it was an hour later than
that which he was taught to apprehend, quite trans¬
ported, as if ail danger was past, he prepared to go to
th« bath. Just then, Parthenius his chamberlain came
to inform him that Stephanus the comptroller of his
household desired to speak to him upon an affair of the
utmost importance. The emperor having given orders
that his attendants should retire, Stephanus entered
with his hand in a scarf, which he had worn thus for
some days, the better to conceal a dagger, as none were
permitted to approach the emperor except unarmed.—
Fie began by giving information of a pretended conspi¬
racy, and exhibited a paper in which the particulars
were specified. While Domitian was reading the con- 35o
tents with an eager curiosity, Stephanus drew his dag- He is
ger, and struck him in the groin. The wound not be- <lerct^
ing mortal, Domitian caught hold of the assassin, and
threw him upon the ground, calling out for assistance.
He demanded also his sword, that was usually placed
under his pillow ; and a boy who attended in the apart¬
ment running to fetch it found only the scabbard, for
Parthenius had previously removed the blade. The
sturggle with Stephanus still continued : Domitian still
kept him under, and at one time attempted to wrest the
dagger from his hand, at another to tear out his eyes
with Ins fingers. But Parthenius, with his free unan,
a gladiator, andjwo subaltern officers, now coming in,
ran all furiously upon the emperor, and dispatched him
with
Home.
3.51
Cocceius
Nerva
made em¬
peror.
352
His great
clemency
and mode¬
ration.
353
Makes se¬
veral good
laws.
U o M [ 216 ] K O M
with many wounds. In the mean time, some of the
officers of the cuard being alarmed, came to his assist¬
ance, but too lale to save him ; however, they slew Ste¬
phanos on the spot.
When it was publicly known that Domitian was
slain, the joy of the senate was so great, that being as¬
sembled with the utmost ha^te, they began to load his
memory with every reproach. His statues were com¬
manded to be taken down ; and a decree was made,
that all his inscriptior s should be erased, his name
struck out of the registers of fame, and his funeral
omitted. The people, who now took little part in the
aff iirs of government, looked on his death with indif¬
ference ; the soldiers alone, whom he had loaded with
favours, and enriched by largesses, sincerely regretted
their benefactor. The senate, therefore, resolved to
provide a succe sor before the army could have an op¬
portunity of taking an appointment upon themselves:
and Cocceius Nerva was chosen to the empire the very
day on which the tyrant was slain.
Nerva was of an illustrious family, as most say, by
birth a Spaniard, and above 65 years old when he was
called to tire throne. He was, at that time, the most
remarkable man in Rome, for his virtues, moderation,
and respect to the laws ; and he owed his exaltation to
the blameless conduct of his former life. When the se-
na'e went to pay him their submissions, he received
them with his accustomed humility: while Arius An-
tonius, his most intimate friend, havint; embi'aced him
with great familiarity, congratulated him on his acces¬
sion to the empire : and indeed no emperor had ever
shewn himself more worthy of the throne than Nerva ;
his only fault being that he was too indulgent, and of¬
ten made a prey by his insidious courtiers.
However, an excess of indulgence and humanity
were faults that Rome could easily pardon, after the
cruelties < f such an emperor as Domitian. Being long
accustomed to tyranny, they regarded Nerva’s gentle
reign with rapture, and even gave his imbecility the
name of benevo:ence. Upon coming to the throne, he
solemnly swore that no senator of Rome should be
put to (ieath by his command, during his reign, though
they gave ever so just a cause. He conferred great fa¬
vours, and bestowed large gifts, upon his particular
f riends. His liberality was so extensive, that upon his
first promotion to the empire, he was constrained to sell
his gold and silver plate, with his other rich moveables,
to enable him to continue his liberalities. He released
the cities of the empire from many severe impositions,
winch had been laid upon them by Vespasian ; took off
a rigorous tribute, which had been laid upon carriages;
and restored those to their property who had been un¬
justly dispossessed by Domitian.
During his short reign he made several good laws.
He particularly prohibited the castration of male chil¬
dren ; which had been likewise condemned by his pre¬
decessor, but not wholly removed. He put all those
slaves to death who had, during the last reign, inform¬
ed against their masters. He permitted no statues to
be erected to honour him, and converted into money
such of Domitian’s as had been spared by the senate.
He sold many rich robes, and much of the splendid
furniture of the palace, and retrenched several unreason¬
able expe ces at court. At the same time, he had so
lit.Je regard for money, that when Herodes Atticus,
one of his subjects, had found a laige treasure, and
wrote to the emperor how to dispose of it, he received
for answer, that he might use it ; but the finder still in¬
forming the emperor that it was a fortune too large for
a private person, Nerva, admiring his honesty, wrote
him word, that then he might abuse it.
A life of such generosity and mildness was not, how¬
ever, without its enemies. Calpurnius Crassus, with
some others, formed a dangerous conspiracy to destroy
him ; but Nerva would use no severity : he rested sa¬
tisfied with banishing those who were culpable, though
the senate were for inflicting more rigorous punishments.
But the most dangerous insurrection against his interests
was from the praetorian bands ; who, headed by Caspa-
rius Olianus, insisted upon revenging the late emperor’s
death, whose memory was still dear to them from his
frequent liberalities. Nerva, whose kindness to good
men rendered him still more obnoxious to the vicious,
did all in his power to stop the progress of this insur¬
rection ; he presented himself to the mutinous soldiers,
and. opening his bosom, desired them to strike there,
rather than be guilty of so much injustice. The soldiers,
however, paid no regard to his remonstrances; but,
seizing upon Petronius and Parthenius, slew them in the
most ignominious manner. Not content w ith this, they
even compelled the emperor to approve of their sedi¬
tion, and to make a speech to the people, in w hich he
thanked the cohorts for their fidelity. So disagree¬
able a constraint upon the emperor’s inclinations was,
in the end, attended with the most happy effects, as it
caused the adoption of Trajan to succeed him in the ...
empire. Nerva perceived that in the present turbulent A(|0pts
disposition of the times, he stood in need of an assistant Trajan a;
in the empire, who might share the fatigues of govern- his suc»
ment, and contribute to keep the licentious in awe. For
this purpose, setting aside all his own relations, he fix¬
ed upon Ulpius Trajan, an utter stranger to his family,
who was then governor in Upper Germany, to succeed
him. Having put his detennination in execution, and
performed the accustomed solemnities, he instantly sent
off' ambassadors to Cologne, \yhere Trajan then resided,
intreating his assistance in punishing those from whom
he had received such an insult. The adoption|of this
admirable man, proved so great a curb to the licenti¬
ousness of the soldiery, that they continued in perfect
obedience during the rest of this reign ; and Casparius
being sent to him, was, by his command, either banish¬
ed or put to death. 35i
The adopting Trajan was the last public act of i,:
Nerva. In about three months after, having put him- ^em‘
self in a violent passion with one Regulus a senator, he
was seized with a fever, of which he shortly after died,
after a short reign of one year four months and nine days.
He wras the first foreign emperor who reigned in Rome,
and justly reputed a prince of great generosity and mo¬
deration. He is also celebrated for his wisdom, though
with less reason the greatest instance he g,tve of it, du¬
ring his reign, being in the choice of his successor. ^
Trajan’s family was originally from Italy, hut he
himself was born in Seville in Spain. He very early Traja!ll
accompanied his father, who was a general of the Ro¬
mans, in his expeditions along the Euphrates and the
Rhine ; and while yet very young, acquired a consider¬
able reputation for military accomplishments. He
inured his body to fatigue; he made long marches on
foot;
R O M
me,
[ 217 ]
fo«>t ; and laboured to acquire al! th-it skill in war which
was necessary for a commander. U hen he was madege-
neral ot the army in Lower Germany, which was one of
the most considerable employements in the empire, it
made no alteration in his manners or way of living •
®nd the commanner was seen no way differing from the
piivate tri une, except in his superior wisdom and vir
R 0 M
IToiMe.
with the utmost familiarity; and so little feared his
eliemies, that he could scarcely be induced to suppose
that he had any.
. It ha<I been happy for this great prince’s memory, %
if he had shown equal clemency to all his subjects ; but cutesThe
a''Out the ninth year of his reign, he was persuaded to Christians,
looii upon the Christians with a suspicious eye. The
fn/ac J, i •. • /, ! . * . Wltil cl SuSpiClOUS G\r0« J. iJ0
„• J q.Ua it'es ° };:,s nnnd were accompa- extreme veneration which he professed for the religion
m! tic oni a anu>fes of per;on- ^1S bor1y was of the empire, set him sedulously to oppose every inno-
iif^'iich . r°rUS ; ht Wf aV. ihat m,ddle time of vation^ and the progress of Christianity seemed to alarm
life which is happily .rmpered with the warmth of youth him. A law had for some time before been passed, in
and the caution of avp hem ^ ao , e ..1 o   „u n ^ ... 1 . ’
w nicn all Hetenat, or societies dissenting from the esta-
and the caution of age, being 42 years old. To'these
qualities were dded, a moelesty that seemed peculiar to
himself aione; so ttiat mankind found a pleasure in
piaising ’hose accomplishments of which the possessor
seemed no way conscious. Upon t ie whole, Trajan is
distinguished as the greatest and the best emperor of
Rome. Othe; s might have equalled him in war, and
some might have been his rivals in clemency ami good¬
ness , but he seems the only prince who united these
talents in the greatest perfection, andwho appears equal¬
ly to engage our admiration and our regan I. Upon be-
ing informed of the death of NVrva, he prepared to
return to Rome, whither he was invited by the united
intreaties of the state. He therefore began his march
with a discipline that was for a long time unknown in
the armies of the empire. The countries through
which he passed were neither ravaged nor taxed, and
he entered the city, notin a triumphant manner, thoutdi
he had deserved it often, but on foot, attended by the
civil officers of the state, and followed.by his si liiiers, who
marched silently forward with modesty and respect. It
would be tedious and unnecessary toenter into a detail of
thisgood monarch’s labours forthestate. HLapplication
tobusiness, his moderation to his enemies, his modesty in
exaltation,hisliberality to the deserving, and his frugality
in his own expences; these have all been the subject of
panegyric among his contemporaries, and they continue
to be the admiration of posterity. Upon giving the
prefect of the pretorian band the sword, according to
custom, he made use of this remarkable expression:
,f Take this sword, and use it, if I have merit, for me;
if otherwise, against me.” After which he added.
That he who gave law’s was the fir-t who was bound to
obseive tnem. His failings were his love of women,
which, however, never hurried him beyond the bounds
of decency; and his immoderate passion for war, to
whiph he had been bred up from his childhood. The
first war he was engaged in after his coming to the
throne was with the Dacians, who, during the reign of
Domitiijn, had committed numberless ravages upon the
provinces of tl.e empire. He therefore raised a power¬
ful army, and with great expedition marched into those
barbarous countries, where he was vigorously opposed
by Decebalus, the Dacian king, who for a long time
withstood his boldest efforts; but was at last entirely
reduced, and his kingdom made a Roman province.
See Dacia. At his return to Rome, he entered the
city in triumph ; and the rejoicings for his victories
lasted for the space of 120 days.
. Having thus given peace and prosperity to the em¬
pire, Trajan continued his reign, loved, honoured, and
almost adored, by his subjects. He adorned the city
with public buildings; he freed it from such men as
lived by their vices; he entertained persons of merit
VcL. XVIII. Part I.
blished religion, were considered as illegal, being repu¬
ted nurseries of imposture and sedition. Under the
sanction of this law’, the Christians were persecuted in
all parts of the empire. Great numbers of them were
put to death, as well by popular tumults as by edicts
and judicial proceedings. How’ever, the persecution
ceasea after some time; for the emperor having advice
from Pliny, the proconsul in Bithynia, of the innocence
and simplicity of the Christians, and of tlieir inoffensive
and moral way of living, hesuspended their punishments.
But a total stop was put to them upon Tiberianus the
governor of Palestine’s sending him word, that he was
wearied out with executing the laws against the Gali¬
leans, who crowded to execution in such multitudes,
that he was at a loss how to proceed. Upon this in¬
formation, the emperor gave orders, that the Christians
should not be sought after; but if any offered them*
selves, that they should suffer. In this manner the rage
ot persecution ceased, and the emperor found leisure to
turn the force of his arms against the Armenians and /
Parthians, who now began to throw off all submission
to Rome.
While he was employed in these wars, there was a insu^.
dreadful insurrection of the Jews in all parts of thf em- tion of the
pire. This wretched people still infatuated, and ever Jews,
expecting some signal delivery, took the advantage of
Trajan’s absence in the east to massacre all the Greeks
and Romans whom they got into their power, without
reluctance or mercy. This rebellion first began in Cy-
rene, a Roman province in Africa; from thence t’le
flame extended to Egypt, and next to the island of Cy¬
prus. These places were in a manner dispeopled with
ungovernable fury. Their barbarities were such, that
they ate the flesh of their enemies, wore their skins,
sawedthem asunder, cast them to wild beasts, made them
kill each other, and studied new torments by which to
destroy them. However, these cruelties were of no
longduration ; the governors ofthe respective provinces
making head against their tumultuous fury, soon heat¬
ed them with a retaliation of cruelty, and put them to
death, not as human beings, but as outrageous pests
to society. As the Jews had practised their cruelties
in Cyprus particularly, a law was publicly enacted, by
which it was made capital for any Jew to set foot on
the island.
During these bloody transactions, Trajan was pro- SuccSL of
secuting his successes in the east. His first march was Trajan in
into Armenia, the king of which country haddisclahned die east,
all alliance with Rome, and received the ensigns of roy¬
ally and dominion from the monarch of Parthia. How’¬
ever, upon the news of Trajan’s expedition, his fears
were so great, that he abandoned his country to the
invaders; while the greatest part of his governors and
^ e nobility
R 0 M [ 218 ] ROM
Rome, nobility came submissively to the emperor, acknow-
W-if-"—*'' lodging themselves his subjects, and making him the
most costly presents. Having in this manner taken
possession of the whole country, and gotten the king
into his power, he marched into the dominions of the
king of Parthia. There entering the opulent kingdom
of Mesopotamia, he reduced it into the form of a Ro¬
man province. From thence he went against the Par-
th ans, marching on foot at the head of his army ; in
this manner crossing the rivers, and conforming to all
the severities of discipline which were imposed on the
meanest soldier. His successes against the Parthians
were great and numerous. Pie conquered Syria and
Chaldea, and took the famous city of Babylon. Here,
attempting to cross the Euphrates, he wrs opposed by
the enemy, who were resolved to stop his passage: but
he secretly caused boats to be made upon the adjoining
mountains; and bringing them to the water side, passed
his army with great expedition, not, however, without
great slaughter on both sides. From thence he tra¬
versed tracts of country which had never before been
invaded by a Roman anny, and seemed to take a plea¬
sure in pursuing the same march which Alexander the
Great had formerly marked out for him. Having
passed the rapid streams of the Tigris, he advanced to
the city of Ctesiphon, which he took, and opened himself
a passage into Persia, where he made many conquests,
that were rather splendid than serviceable. After sub¬
duing all the country bordering on the Tigris, he
marched southward to the Persian gulf, where he sub¬
dued a monarch who possessed a considerable island
made by the divided streams of that river. Here, win¬
ter coming on, he was in danger of losing the greatest
part of his army by the inclemency of the climate and
the inundations of the river. He therefore with inde¬
fatigable pains fitted out a fleet, and sailing down the
Persian gulf, entered the Indian ocean, conquering,
even to the Indies, and subduing a part of them to the
Roman empire. Pie was prevented from pursuing fur¬
ther conquests in this distant country, both by the re¬
volt of many of the provinces he had already subdued,
and by the scarcity of provisions, which seemed to con¬
tradict the reports of the fertility of the countries he
was induced to invade. The inconveniences of increa¬
sing age also contributed to damp the ardour of this
enterprise, which at one time he intended to pursue to
the confines of the earth. Returning, therefore, along
the Persian gulf, and sending the senate a particular
account of all the nations he had conquered, the names
of which alone composed a long catalogue, he prepared
to punish those countries which had revolted from him.
He began by laying the famous city of Edessa, in Me¬
sopotamia, in ashes; and in a short space of time, not
only retook all those places which had before acknow¬
ledged subjection, but conquered many other provinces,
so as to make himself master of the most fertile king¬
doms of all Asia. In this train of successes he scarce
met with a repulse, except before the city Atra, iu the
deserts of Arabia. Wherefore judging that this was a
proper time for bounding his conquests, he resolved to
give a master to the countries he had subdued. With
this resolution he repaired to the city Ctesiphon, in
Persia ; and there, with great ceremony, crowned Par-
tnamaspates king of Parthia, to the great joy of all his
subjects. He established another king also over the
kingdom of Albania, near the Caspian sea. Then
placing governors and lieutenants in other provinces,
he resolved to return to his capital in a more magnifi¬
cent manner than any of his predecessors had done be¬
fore him. He accordingly left Adrian general of all
his forces in the east; and continued his journey to¬
wards Rome, where the most magnificent preparations
were made for his arrival. But he had not proceeded
farther than the province of Cilicia, when he found
himself too weak to travel in his usual manner.. He
therefore caused himself to be carried on ship-board
to the city of Seleiuia, where he died of apoplexy,
having been once before attacked by that disorder.
During the time of his indisposition, his wife Plotina
constantly attended near him ; and, knowing the em¬
peror’s dislike to Adrian, it is thought forged the will,
by which he was adopted to succeed.
Trajan died in the 63d year of his age, after a reign
of ninteen years six months and fifteen days. How
highly he was esteemed by his subjects appears by their
manner of blessing hh successors, always wishing them
the fortune of Augustus, and the goodness of Trajan.
His military virtues, however, upon which he chiefly
valued himself, produced no real advantages to his
country; and all his conquests disappeared, when the
power wais withdrawn that enforced them.
Adrian was by descent a Spaniard, and his ancestors
were of the same city where Trajan was born. Fie was
nephew' to Trajan, and married to Sabina hisgrand-niece.
When Trajan w as adopted to the empire, Adrian was a
tribune of the army in Massia, and wjas sent by thetroops
to congratulate the emperor on his advancement. Flow-
ever, his brother-in-law, who desired to have an op¬
portunity of congratulating Trajan himself, supplied
Adrian with a carriage >hat broke down on the way.
But Adrian was resolved to lose no time, and perform¬
ed the rest of the journey on foot. This assiduity was
very pleasing to the emperor; but he disliked Adrian
from several more prevailing motives. His kinsman
was expensive, and involved in debt. He was, besides,
inconstant, capricious, and apt to envy another’s repu¬
tation. These were faults that, in Trajan’s opinion,
could not be compensated either by his learning cr his
talents. His great skill in the Greek and Latin lan¬
guages, his intimate acquaintance with the laws of his
country and the philosophy of the times, were no in¬
ducement to Trajan, who, being bred himself a soldier,
desired to have a military man to succeed him. For
this reason it was that the dying emperor would by no
meansappoiut a successor; fearful, perhaps, of injuring
his great reputation, by adopting a person that was
unworthy. Flis death, therefore, was concealed for
some time by Plotina his wile, till Adrian had sound¬
ed the inclinations of the army, and found them firm
in his interests. They then produced a forged in¬
strument, importing that Adrian was adopted to suc¬
ceed in the empire. By this artifice he was elected by
all orders of the state, though then absent from Rome,
being lef t at Antioch as general of the forces in the
east.
Upon Adrian’s election, fus first care was to write
the senate, excusing himself for assuming the empire
without their previous approbation ; imputing it to the
hasty zeal of the army, wrho rightly judged that the se-
lome-.
3G0
He dies,
and issue
ceeded by
Adrian.
nate ought not long to remain without a head. He
then
R O M
[ S19 ]
R O M
3(il
j aban-
tlien be^an to pursue a course quite opposite to that of
his predecessor, taking everv method of declining war,
and prmnotinfr the arts of peace. He was quite satis¬
fied with preserving the ancient limits of the empire,
and seemed no way ambitions of extensive conquest.
For this reason he abandoned all the conquests which
«! all the 'pr,,jan ma{]e judging them to be rather an incon-
* ^ venience than an advantage to the empire , and made
1 an. t!ie river Euphrates the boundary of the empire, pla¬
cing the legions along its banks to prevent the incur¬
sions of the enemy.
Having thus settled the affairs of the east, and lea¬
ving Severus governor of Syria, he took his journey by
land to Rome, sending the ashes of Trajan thither by
sea. Upon his approach to the city, he was informed
of a magnificent triumph that was preparing fhr him ;
but this he modestly declined, desiiing that those ho¬
nours might be paid to Trajan’s memory which they
had designed for him. In consequence of this com-
m nd, a most superb triumph was decreed, in which
Trajan’s statue was carried as a principal figure in the
procession, it being remarked that he was the only man
that ever triumphed after he was dead. Not content
with pa ing him these extr ordinary lionours, his ashes
were placed in a golden urn, upon the top of a column
14-0 feet high. On this we e engraven the particulars
of all h;s exploits in basso relievo; a work of great la¬
bour, and which is still remaining. Tin se testimonies
of respect to the memo y of his predecessor,-did great
honour to the heart of Adrian. His virtues, however,
were contrasted by a strange mixture of vices ; or to say
* the truth, he wanted strength of mind to preserve his
general rectitude of char cter without deviation. As
an emperor, however, his conduct was most admirable,
ns all ms pulfic transactions appear dictated by the
soundest policy and the most disinterested wisdom. But
these being already enumerated under tbe article Anm-
an, it would be superfluous to repeat them in thh plane,
tgg He -was succeeded by Marcus Antoninus, afterwards
(. es of surnamed the Pious, whom he had adopted some time
tl leclme before his de; th. See Antoninus Pius.
ui e (to- From the beginning of the reign of Antoninus Pius,
j, em’ we may date the decline of the Roman empire. From
the time of Caesar to that of Trajan, scarce any of the
emperors had either abilities or inclination to extend
the limbs of the empire, or even to defend it against
the barbarous nations who surrounded h. During all
this space, only some inconsiderable provinces to the
northward of Italy and part of the island of Britain,
had been subjugated. Howeve-, as yet, nothing was
lest; but the degeneracy and corruption of the people
had s^wn rhose seeds of dissolution which the empire
quickly began to feel. The disorders were grown to
such an heijht, that even Trajan himself could not cure
them. Indeed his eastern conquests could scarce have
been preserved though the repubhc had been existing
in all its glory; and therefore they we e quietly re¬
signed by his successor Ad'ian, as too distant, disaffec¬
ted, and ready to be overrun by the barbarous nations.
The province of Dacia, being nearer to the centre of
government, w as more easily preserved ; and of conse¬
quence remained for a long time subject to Rome.
During the 23 years of the reign of Antoninus, few
remarkable events happened. The historians of those
times are excessive in their praises of his justice, ge¬
nerosity, and other virtue-, Imth public and private.
He put a stop to the persecution of the Christians,
w hich raged in the time of Trajan and Adrian, an 1
reduced the ITigantes, a tribe of Britons, who had
revelled. During his reign, several calamities befel
the empire. The Tiber, overflowing it; banks, laid
the lower part of Rome under water. The inundation
was followed by a fire, and this by a famine, which
swept off great numbers, though the emperor took the
utmost caie to supply the city from the most distant
provinces. At the same time the cities of Nat bonne
in Gaul, and Antioch in Syria, together wnth the
great square in Carthage, were destroyed by fire ; how¬
ever, the emperor soon restored them to their former
condition. He died in the year 163, universally la¬
mented by his subjects, and was succeeded by Marcus
Aurelius, surnarned the Philosopher, whom he had a-
doj ted towards the latter end of his reign.
The transactions of this emperor trie reader wdll
find related under the article Antoninus Philosophus
(A).
E e 2 After
n*T,e.
(a) As, after the death of Marcus Aurelius, the Roman empire declined very fast, it may not be amiss here
to give some account of the military and other estal lUhments <T the Roman empemrs. Mr Gibbon observes,
that in the times of the commonweal h, the u-e of arms was confined fo tbo e who had some property to de¬
fend, and an interest in maintaining the laws whUh were pnpo ed to be enacted. But, as the pub ic freedom
declined, and war l ecame degraded into a tra in, those who had the property of the country chose rather to hire
others than to expose their own persons, as is the ca e with our modern armies. Yet, even after all considera¬
tion of properly had been laid aside amo g the common s Idiers, the officers continued to be chosen from among
those who bad a liberal education, together with a go d share of property. However, as the common soldiers,
in which the streng h of an a my consists, had now no more of that virtue called pal riot ism, the legions which
were formerly almost invincible, no longer fought with the same ardour as before. In former times, the pro¬
fession of a soldier was more honourable than any other ; but, when the soldiers came to be looked upon as hire¬
lings, the honour of the profession sunk of course, and by this mea s, one of the strongest motives which the
soldiers h d to submit to their •■evere discipline, and exert themselves again>t their enemies, was removed. On
the very first entrance of a soldier into the Roman service, a solemn oath was administered to him, by which he
engaged never to desert his standard ; to submit his own will to that of his leaders, and to sacrifice his life
for the safety of the emperor and the empire. The attachment which the Romans had to their standards
was indeed astonishing. Tbe golden eagle, which appeared in the front of the legion, was almost an object
of adoration with them; and it W’as esteemed impious, as well as ignominious, to abandon that sac.ed en-
sigu
IUme.
w-v—>
ROM [ 220 ] R 0 M
After the death of Marcus Aurelius, his son Corn-
modus succeeded to the imperial throne without oppo¬
sition. He was in every respect unworthy of his fa¬
ther: and so prone to vice, that lie was generally be- rt«nie 1
lieved to have been the son, not of Marcus Aurelius, ,
but of a celebrated gladiator, with whom the empress
Faustina
sign in the time of danger. The centurions had a right to punish with blows, the generals with death ; and
it was an inflexible maxim of the Roman discipline, that a good soldier should dread his officers much more than
the enemy. *
Notwithstanding all this, so sensible were the Romans of the insufficiency of mere valour without skill, that
military exercises were the unremitted object of their discipline. The recruits and young soldiers were con¬
stantly trained both in the morning and evening ; and even the veterans were not excused from the daily repeti¬
tion of their exercise. Large sheds were erected in the winter-quarters of the troops, that these useful labours-
might not be interrupted by tempestuous weather, and the weapons used in these imitations of war were al ways
twice as heavy as those made use of in real action. The soldiers were diligently instructed to march, to run, 1 ap,
swim, carry heavy burdens, and handle every species of weapon either for offence or defence; to form a variery
of evolutions; and to move to the sound of flutes in the pyrrhic or martial dance. It was the policy of the ablest
generals, and even of the emperors themselves, to encourage these military studies by their presence and ex¬
ample ; and we are informed that Adrian, as well as Trajan, frequently condescended to instruct the unexperien¬
ced soldiers, to reward the diligent, and sometimes to dispute with them the prize of superior strength and dex¬
terity. Under the reigns of those princes, the science of tactics was cultivated, with success; and, as lomr as
the empire retained any vigour, their military instructions were respected as the most perfect model of Roman
discipline.
From the foundation of the city, as the Romans had in a manner been continually engaged in war, many alte¬
rations had taken place in the constitution of the legions. In the time of the emperors, the heavy-armed infan¬
try, which composed its principal strength, was divided into 10 cohorts and 55 companies, under the orders of a
correspondent number of tribunes and centurions. The first cohort, which always claimed the post of honour
and the custody of the eagle, was formed of 1105 soldiers, the most approved for valour and fidelity. The re¬
maining nine cohorts consisted each of 555 ; and the whole body of legionary infantry consisted of (ilOO men.
Their arms were uniform, and excellently adapted to the nature of their service; an open helmet with a lofty
crest; a breastp’ate or coat of mail; greaves on their legs, and a large buckler on their left arm. Their Wckler
was of an oblong and concave figure, four feet in length, and two and a half in breadth ; framed of a light
wood, covered with a bull’s hide, and strongly guarded with brass plates. Besides a lighter spear, the legionary
carried the piliim, a ponderous javelin about six feet long, and terminated by a massy triangular point of steel IS
inches in length. This weapon could do execution at the distance of 10 or 12 paces ; but its stroke was so power¬
ful, that no cavalry durst venture within its reach, and scarce any armour could be formed proof against it. As
soon as the Roman had darted his pilum, he drew his sword, and rushed forward to close with the enemy. It
was a short well-tempered Spanish blade with a double edge, and equally calculated for the purposes of pushing
and striking; but the soldier was always instructed to prefer the former use of his own weapon, as his body re¬
mained thereby the less exposed, while at the same time he inflicted a more dangerous wound on his adversary.
The legion was usually drawn up eight deep; and the regular distance of three feet was left between the files
and ranks. Ihus the soldier possessed a free space for his arms and motions; andsufficent intervals w ere allow'-
ed, through which seasonable reinforcements might be introduced to the relief of the combatants. The cavalry
without which the force of the legion remained imperfect, was divided into ten troops or squadrons : the first as
the companion of the first cohort, consisted of 132 men : whilst each of the other nine amounted only to 66.
.. he entire establishment formed a body of 726 horse, naturally connected with its respective legion • but occa¬
sional acting in the line and composing a part of the w ings of tfie army. The cavalry of the ancient republic
was composed of the noblest youths of Rome and Italy, who, by performing their military services on horse¬
back prepared themselves tor the offices of senator and consul; but after the alteration of manners and govern¬
ment which took place at the end of the commonwealth, the most wealthy of the equestrian order were engaged
in the ao ministration of justice and of the revenue; and whenever they embraced the profession of arms* they
were immediately entrusted with a troop of horse or a cohort of foot, and the cavalry, as well as the infantry,
were recruited from the provinces. Ihe horses were bred for the most part in Spain, or in Cappadocia. The
Roman troopers despised the complete armour which encumbered the cavalry of the east/ Instead of this their
arms consisted only of an helmet, an oblong shield, light boots, and a coat of mail. A javelin and a long broad-
the°bL bariain e11' pnnClpal offeilslve weaPons* TheJ to have b. rrowed the use of lances and iron maces from
the'fnav8 ^C the RoniaDS' especially in the times of the emperors, began to take auxiliaries into
of Poman rSrZ M T "T ^rly made among those provincials who had not yet attained to the rank
a whT to h 1 fny fependt;n Pnl?ces?nd coromumnes, dispersed round the frontiers, were permitted, for
w^e comnelWl n Pne ^ ^ tenure.of m^ary service. Even select troops of barbarians
7nK as k carried thp R vhich T 8,ftcrWards found to be * destructive expedient, not
°n } as lfc G jd the Reraan military skid among barbarians who were otherwise unacquainted with it but it
gave these auxiliaries themselves frequent opportunities of revolting, and at last of dethroning the emperors at
.pleasure, and even .of overturning the empire itself. The number of auxiliaries was seldom fnferior to that of
v the'
i: 0 M [ 221 ] B 0 M
Faustina was supposed to be intimate. According to man blood, and capable from his infancy of the most
Mr Gibbon, however, Commodus was not, as has been inhuman actions. Nature had formed him of a weak,
represented, a tiger born with an insatiate thirst of hu- rather than a wicked disposition. His simplicity and
timidity
the legionaries themselves. The bravest and most faithful bands among them were placed under the command of
prefects and centurions, and severely trained in the arts of Roman discipline; but the far greater part retained
those arms which they had used in their native country. By this institution, each legion, to whom a certain
number of auxiliaries was allotted, contained within itself every species of lighter troops, and of missile weapons ;
and was capable of encountering every nation with the advantages of its respective arms and discipline. Nor was
the legion destitute of what, in modern language, would be styled a train of artillery. This consisted of 10 mili¬
tary engines of the largest size, and 56 smaller ones ; but all of them, either in an oblique or horizontal manner,
discharged stones and darts with irresistible violence.
The camp of a Roman legion presented thMippearance of a fortified city. As soon as the space was marked
out, the pioneers carefully levelled the ground, and removed every impediment that might interrupt its perfect re¬
gularity. Its form was an exact quadrangle ; and it may be computed that a square of 700 yards was sufficient
for the encampment of 20,000 Romans, though a similar number of modern troops would expose to the enemy a
front of more than treble that extent. In the midst of the camp, the praetorium, or general’s tent, arose above the
others ; and the cavalry, infantry, and auxiliaries, had each their respective stations appointed them. The streets
were broad, and perfectly straight; and a vacant space of 200 feet was left on all sides between the tents and ram¬
part. The rampart itself was 12 feet high, armed with a line of strong and intricate palisades, and defended by a
ditch 12 feet deep and as much broad. This labour was performed by the legions themselves, to whom the use of
the spade and the pick-axe was no less familiar than that of the sword or pilum. Whenever the trumpet gave the
signal of departure, the camp was almost instantly broke up, and the troops fell into their ranks without delay or
confusion. Besides their arms, which the soldiers scarcely considered as an incumbrance, they w ere laden with
their kitchen-furniture, the instruments of fortification, and provisions for many days. Under this weight, which
would oppress a modern soldier, they were taught to advance by a regular step, near 20 miles in 6 hours. On
the appearance of an enemy, they threw aside their baggage, and, by easy and rapid evolutions, converted the
column of march into an order of battle. The slingers and archers skirmished in the front; the auxiliaries
formed the first line, and were seconded or sustained by the legions. The cavalry covered the flanks, and the
military engineers were placed in the rear.
The numbers of the Roman armies are not easily calculated with any tolerable accuracy. We may compute,
however, that the legion, which consisted of 6831 Romans, might, with its attendant auxiliaries, amount to
12,500 men. The peace establishment of Adrian and his successors -was composed of no fewer than 80 of these
formidable brigades ; and most probably formed an army of 370,000 men. Instead of being confined within the
walls of fortified cities, which the Romans considered as the refuge of weakness or pusillanimity, the legions we e
encamped on the banks of the great rivers, and along the frontiers of the barbarians. Three legions were sufficient
for Britain. The principal strength lay upon the Rhine and Danube, and consisted of 16 legions, disposed in the
following proportions: two in the Lower, and three in the Upper Germany; one in Rheetia; one in Noricum ;
four in Pannonia ; three in Mcesia ; and two in Dacia. The defence of the Euphrates was intrusted to eight le¬
gions, six of whom were placed in Syria, and the other two in Cappadocia. With regard to Egypt, Africa, and
Spain, as they were far removed from any important scene of war, a single legion maintained the domestic tranquil¬
lity of each of those great provinces. Italy was defended by the city cohorts and praetorian guards formerly
mentioned. These differed nothing from the legions in their arms and institutions, except in a more splendid
appearance, and a less rigid discipline.
The Roman navy, though sufficient for every useful purpose of government, never seemed adequate to the
greatness of the empire. The policy of the emperors was directed only to preserve the peaceful dominion of
the Mediterranean sea, which was included within their dominions, and to protect the commerce of their sub¬
jects. Two permanent fleets were stationed by Augustus, one at Ravenna on the Adriatic, and the other at
Misenum in the bay of Naples. A very considerable force was also stationed at Frejus in Provence; and the
Euxine was guarded by 40 ships and 3000 soldiers. To all these we may add the'fleet which preserved the
communication between Gaul and Britain, and a great number of vessels constantly maintained on the Rhine
and Danube to harass the enemy, or intercept the passage of the barbarians. The whole military establish¬
ment by sea and land amounted to about 450,000 men.
It was not, however, to this formidable power alone that the empire owed its greatness. The policy of the laws
contributed as much to its support as the martial establishment itself. According to Mr Gibbon, though the pro¬
vinces might occasionally suffer from the partial abuse of delegated authority, the general principle of government
was wise, simple, and beneficent. Among these beneficent principles he reckons that of universal toleration ; but
to this there were several exceptions : dor the British Druids were persecuted and destroyed by the Romans on ac¬
count ol their religion ; the Egyptians and Jews were sometimes persecuted ; and the Christians were frequently
so, and that even under the very best emperors, Trajan and Marcus Aurelius. However, as a very general tolera¬
tion of religious sentiments did take place under the heathen emperors of Rome, we must certainly look upon
this as one of the causes of the prosperity of the empire.
Another thing which greatly contributed to the strength and prosperity of the empire, was the extending of the
. . • freedom
Rome.
.
It O M [ 222 ] R O M
timidity rendered him the slave of his attendants, who habit, and at length became the rifling passion of his Hok
gt'ttdually corrupted his mind. His cruelty, which at soul.” But however this may be, it is certain that the
Monstrous ^rst ooejthe dictates of others, degenerated into actions of this emperor were flagitious almost beyond
cruelty of a
Coir, modus.
freedom of Piome to so many people. “ The narrow policy (says Mr Gibbon) of preserving without any foreign
mixture the pure blood of the ancient citizens, had checked the for une and hastened the ruin of Athens and Spar¬
ta. During the most flourishing era of the Athenian commonwealth, the number of citizens decreased gradually
from about 30,000 to 2 1,000. If, on the contrary, we stu'y the growth of the Roman republic, we may discover,
that notwithstanding the incessant demands of wars and colonies, the citizens, v ho, in the time of Servius Tullius,
amounted to no more than 83,000, were multiplied, before the end of the social war, to the number of 463,000
men able to bear arms in the service of their country. When the allies of Rome claimed an equal share of honours
and privileges, the senate preferred the chance of war to a concession ; however, at last, all the Italian states, ex¬
cept the Samnites and Lucanians, were admitted into the bosom of the republic, and soon contributed to the ruin
oi public freedom. When the popular assemblies had been suppressed by the administration of the emperors, the
conquerors were distinguished from the vanquished nations only as the first and most honourable order of subjects;
and their increase, however rapid, was no longer exposed to the same dangers. Yet the princes who adopted the
maxims of Augustus, guarded with the strictest care the dignity of the Roman name, and diffused the freedom of
the city with a prudent liberality.
“ Till the privileges of the Romans had been progressively extended to all the inhabitants of the empire, an im-
portant distinction was preserved between Italy and the provinces. The estates of the Italians were exempted fr m
taxes, and their persons from the arbitrary jurisdiction of governors. From the foot of the .A lps to the extremity
of Calabria, all the natives of Italic were born citizens of Rome. The provinces of the empire were destitute of
any public force or constitutional freedom. The free states and cities, which had embraced the cause of Rome,
were insensibly sunk nto real servitude. I he public authority was everywhere engrossed by the ministers of the
senate and or the emperors, and that authority was absolute. But the same salutary maxims of government which
had secured the peace and obedience of Italy, were extended to the most distant conquests. A nation of Romans
was gradually formed in the provinces, by the double expedient of introducing colonies, and of admitting the
most faithful and deserving provincials to the fivedom of Rome.
So sensible were tne Romans of the influence of language over national manners, that it was their most seri¬
ous care to extend, w ith fie progress of tlieiv arms, the use of the Latin tongue. The eastern provinces, how-
e^ver, were less docile in this respect than the western ones ; and this obvious difference made a distinction between
the two portions of the empire, which became very remarkable when it began to decline. Nor was the influence
of the Greek language and sentiments confined to the narrow limits of that once celebrated country. Their em¬
pire, by the progress of colonies and conquest, had been diffused from the Adriatic to the Euphrates nd Nile.
Asia was covered with Greek cities, and the long reign of the Macedonian kings had ntroduced a silent revolu¬
tion into Syria and Egypt. In then- pompous courts, those princes united the elegance of thens with the luxury
ck tne east; and the example of the court was imitated, at an humble distance, by the higher ranks of their subjects.
, , wvf the general division of the Roman empire into the Latin and Greek languages ; to which we'may
ad. a tiiird distinction for the body of the n tives in Syria, and especially in Egypt. The use of their ancient
dialects, by secluding them from the commerce of mankind, checked the improvements of these barbarians. The
s.otlif ul effeminacy of the former exposed them to the contempt, the sullen ferociousness of the later exc te 1 the
aversion of the Rom n conquerors. They seldom desired or deserved the freedom of the city • and it is re¬
marked, that more than 230 years elapsed after the ruin of the Ptolemies, before a native Egyptian was ad¬
mitted mto the senate of Rome.
“ ThenThT °f.sllhjeFts who acknowledged the laws of Rome of citizens, of provincials, and of slaves, can¬
not now be fixed with such accuracy as the importance of the object would deserve. We are informed, that when
.|ie emPei^r Claudius exercised tile office of censor, he took an account of 6,9+5,000 Roman citizens ; who, with
tne proportion of women and children, must have amounted to about 20,000,000 of souls The multitude of sub-
•iTb^rr rail^wf 1uncertain and fluctuating; but after weighing with attention every circumstance
' d m^uence the balance> it seems probable that there existed in the time of Claudius, about twice as
m T Ti r?n frs8’ °f either Sex> and of eve5T ; and that the slaves were at least
V oI !he Rom™ workL The total amount of this imperfect calculation would
“ ’ S I tl 1 ’ persons ; a degree of population which possibly exceeds that of modern Europe,
and foam, t.ie most numerous society that has ever been united under the same system of government.
Domestic peace and union were the natural consequences of the moderate and comprehensive policy embra-
ced by tne Romans 1 he vanquished nations, blended into one great people, resigned the hope, nay even the
fit SCarCCly Considered the,r own existence as distinct from tlJ existence
■ . 1 “e estaohshed autnonty of the emperors pervaded, without an effort, the wide extent of their domi-
S ^ ^ r t!;e ^ °f the TI—s, or of the Nile as on tWthe
the aid of a military force. U Ct ° ag"lil'JL tae pubilc enemD mid the civil magistrate seldom required
the 6763 °f Coat7P°raX Sh°uld disCOVer in the Public felicity the latent causes
deeaj and con upt.on. I his long peace, and the uniform government of the Romans, introduced a slow and
secret
II 0 M [ 223 ] R o M
e. a parallel. Many very strange instances of his cruelty
^ are related by the ancients. He is said to have cut
asunder a corpulent man whom he saw walking along
the street; partly, to try his own strength, in which he
greatly excelled; and partly, as he himself owned, out
of curiosity, to see his entrails drop out at once. He
took pleasure in cutting off the feet, and putting out
the eyes, of such as he met in his rambles through the
city; telling the former, after he had thus maimed
them, that they now belonged to the nation of Mono-
podii ; and the latter, that they were now become Lus-
cinii alluding to the work luscus, “ one-eyed.” Some
he murdered because they w'ere negligently dressed;
others, because they seemed to be trimmed with too
much nicety. He pretended to great skill in surgery,
especially at letting blood: but sometimes, instead of
easing by that means those whom he visited, or who
were prevailed upon to recur to him. lie cut off, by way
of diversion, their ears and noses. His lewdness and de¬
baucheries were equally remarkable, and equally infa¬
mous. However, he is said to have been exceedingly
well skilled in archery, and to have performed incredi¬
ble feats in that way. He excelled all men in strength;
and is said to have run an elephant through with his
spear, and to have killed in the amphitheatre 100 lions,
one after another, and each of them at one blow. For¬
getful of his dignity, he entered the lists with the com¬
mon gladiators, and came off conqueror 7.35 times;
whence he often subscribed himself in his letters, ike
conqueror of 1000 gladiators.
The public transactions of this reign were but very Rome,
few. Soon after his father’s death, Commodus conclu- —
ded a peace with the Marcomanni, Quadi, &c. on 361
the following conditions. 1. That they should not dudeT-
settle within five miles of the Danube. 2. That they peace with
snould deliver up their arms, and supply the Romans die barba-
with a certain number of troops when required. 3. rians*
That they should assemble but once a month, in one
place only, and that in presence of a Roman centu¬
rion. 4. That they should not make war upon the Ja-
zyges, Buri, or Vandals, without the consent of the
people of Rome. On the other hand, Commodus pro¬
mised to abandon, which accordingly he did, all the
castles and fortresses held by the Romans in their coun¬
try, excepting such as were within five miles of the
Danube. With the other German nations, whom his
father had almost entirely reduced, he concluded a very
dishonourable peace; nay, of some he purchased it with
large sums of money.
Soon after the return of the emperor to Rome, his
sister Lucilla, perceiving that he was universally abhor¬
red on account of his cruelty, formed a conspiracy
against his life. Among the conspirators were many
senators of distinction. It was agreed among them that
they should Tall upon the empercr while he was goin<*
to the amphitheatre through a narrow and dark passage;
and that Claudius Pompeianus, to whom Lucilla had
betrothed her daughter, should give the first blow. But
he, instead of striking at once, showed him the naked
and cried out, “ This present the senate sends
you
secret poison into the vitals of the empire. The minds of men were gradually reduced to the same level • the
lire of genius was extinguished, and even the military spirit evaporated. The natives of Europe were brave and
robust. Spain Gaul, Britain, and Illyncum, supplied the legions with excellent soldiers, and constituted the
real strength of the monarchy. Their personal valour remained ; but they no longer possessed that public cou¬
rage winch is nourished by the love of independence, the sense of national honour, the presence of danger and
the habit of command. I hey received laws and governors from the will of their sovereign, and trusted for
then- defence to a mercenary army. ’The posterity of their boldest leaders were contented with the rank of
citizens ami subjects. The most aspiring spirits resorted to the court or standard of the emperors • and the
vatehfe pi°VmCeS' dePrived °* Polltical strength or union, insensibly sunk into the languid indifference of pri-
“ The love of letters, almost inseparable from peace and refinement, was fashionable among the subjects of
Annan and the Antomnes ; who were themselves men of learning and curiosity. It was diffused over the whole
extent of their empire; the most northern tribes of Britons had acquired a taste for rhetoric • Homer as well is
irgil were transcribed and studied on the banks of the Rhine and Danube; and the most liberal rewards sought
om the faintest glimmerings of literary merit. The sciences of physic and astronomy were cultivated with some
egiee of reputation ; but if we except Lucian, an age kf indolence passed away without producing a single wri¬
te! of genius who deserved the attention of posterity. The authority of Plato, of Aristotle of Zeno and Fni
cures, still reigned in the schools ; and their systems, transmitted with blind deference from one generation of d^'
£S “er'tprec^ed Try rer0US attemI,,t to C0,TCCt t,re «"*» “• ^ the h™
mmd. I he beauties of the poets and orators, instead of kindling a fire like their own, produced only servile imi¬
tations; or, it any ventured to deviate from these models, they deviated at the same time from good sense and
propriety. The provincials of Rome, trained by an uniform artificial education, were enZed^i a very rme-
qua! competition with those bold ancients, who, by expressing their genuine feelings in their native tomrue h id
ShiSr A T5 2 fof hTur- -The Te of ,mt ™almoS ! by
‘ SOphlsts- A clo;id o( c7tlcs> of compilers, of commentators, darkened the face of learning, and the decline
of genius was soon followed by the corruption of taste. ctecime
OIlgrnUS °bSerVf fnd kmf t13 the de£eneracy of his contemporaries, which debased their sentiments enerva-
consSnt ^ dePreSr tbT-ta entS ; COmParing them to pigmies, whose stature has been diminished by
i . P e ®ure on dlen hums. 1 his diminutive stature of mankind -was constantly sinking below the old stmd
rd, and the Roman tvorld was indeed peopled by a race of pigmies; when the fierce giants of *e nor h b™!;
d nt“e,Hlei 1 “ puny bree<1- e They rTreJ » ““V J and, after the revolulonolten centuries fee'
dom became the happy parent of taste and science.” uues, *iee
11 O M [ 224 ] li O M
Home, you so that the guards had time to rescue the empe-
w-y-w' i.or, and to seize the conspirators, who were soon after
put to death. The emperor banished his sister to the
island of Capreae, where he soon alter caused her to be
privately murdered.
The favourite minister of Commo:!us was one Pe-
rennis; who in oppression and cruelty seems to have
been nothing inferior to those of the most tyrannical
emperors. During the first part of the reign of Corn-
modus, he ruled with an absolute sway ; but at last was
torn in pieces by the enraged soldiery, whom he had
offended by his too great severity. He was succeeded
in his place by a freedman named Cleander ; for the em¬
peror himself was so much taken up with his pleasures,
that he could not bestow even a moment on the
affairs of state. The new minister abused his power
in a more flagrant manner than even his predecessor
had done. By him all things were openly set to sale;
offices, provinces, public revenues, justice, and the lives
of men both innocent and guilty. The minister, who
ruled the emperor without controul, infused such ter¬
rors into his timorous mind, that he changed the cap¬
tains of his guards almost continually. One Niger en¬
joyed the dignity only six hours; another only five days;
and several others a still shorter space. Most of those
officers lost their lives along with their employments ;
being accused of treason by Cleander, who continually
solicited, and at last obtained, that important post for
3fi.5 himself.
revolt of In the year 1.S7 happened a remarkable revolt. One
Alaternus.. ;yiuternus, a common soldier, having fled from his co¬
lours, and being joined by many others guilty of the
same ciime, grew in a short time so powerful, the ban¬
ditti flocking to him- from all parts, that he overran
and plundered great part of Gaul and Spain; stormed
the strongest citbs; and struck the emperor and people
of Rome with such terror, that troops were raised, and
armies dispatched against him. Pescennius Niger was
sent to make head against him in Gaul, where he be¬
came very intimate with Severn s, who was then gover¬
nor of Lyons, and who wrote a letter to the emperor,
commanding the prudent and gallant behaviour of Ni¬
ger in pursuing the rebels. Maternus, finding himself
reduced to great straits, divided his men into several
small bands, and marched privately with them by diffe¬
rent ways into Italy ; having nothing less in view than
to murder the emperor during the solemnity which was
kept annually in honour of the mother of the gods,
and on his death to seize upon the empire for himself.
They all arrived at Rome undiscovered ; and several of
his men had already mixed themselves with the empe¬
ror’s guards, when others of his own party betrayed
him. Pie was immediately seized and executed; and
his death put an end to the disturbances which some of
his followers had begun to raise in other provinces.
In the same year bx-oke out the most dreadful plague,
says Dio Cassius, that had been known. It lasted two
or three years; and raged with the greatest violence at
Rome, where it frequently carried off 2000 persons
a day. rfhe following year, a dreadful fire, which con¬
sumed a great part of the city, was kindled by light¬
ning ; and at the same time the people were afflicted
with a dreadful famine, occasioned, according to some
authors, by Cleander, who, having now in view nothing
less than the sovereignty itself, bought up underhand
all the corn, in order to raise the price of it, and gain Rom*,
the affections of the soldiery and people by distribu- Wy-,
ting it among them. Others tell us, however, that
Papirius Dionysius, whose province it was to supply
the city with provisions, contributed towards the fa¬
mine, in order to make the people rise against Clean¬
der. Be this as it will, the populace ascribed all their
calamities to this hated minister; and one day, while the
people were celebrating the Circensian games, a troop of
children, having at their head a young woman of an
extraordinary stature and fierce aspect, entering the cir¬
cus, began to utter aloud many bitter invectives and
dreadful curses against Cleander; which being for
some time answered by the people with other invectives
and curses, the whole multitude arose all of a sudden,
and flew to the place where t leander at that time re¬
sided with the emperor. There, renewing their invec¬
tives, they demanded the head of the minister who had
been the occasion of so many calamities. Hereupon
Cleander ordered the praetorian cavalry to charge the
multitude; which they did accordingly, driving them
with great slaughter into the city. But the populace
discharging showers of stones, bricks, and tijes, from
the tops of the houses and from the windows, and the
city-guards at the same time taking part with the peo¬
ple, the praetorian horse were soon obliged to save them¬
selves by flight: nor was the slaughter ended till the
emperor, apprised of the tumult, caused the head of Cle- 1
ander to be struck off and thrown out to the enraged coniIJ
populace. The emperor himself did not long survive murlier I
Cleander; being cut off by a conspiracy of Marcia his
favourite concubine, Laatus captain of the guards, and
Eclectus his chamberlain.
No sooner was the death of Commodus known, than
the senate assembled, and declared him a public enemy,
loading him with curses, ordering his statues to be bro¬
ken to pieces, and his name to be rased out of all public
inscriptions ; and demanded his body, that it might be yA
dragged through the streets and thrown into the Ti-Pertir,J
ber. But Helvius Pertinax, whom the conspirators raised; *
had previously designed for the empire, and who had einI'ire'
already assumed it, prevented such an outrage, by let¬
ting the senators know that Commodus was already
buried. This extraordinary personage had passed
through many changes of fortune. He was originally
the son of an enfranchised slave, called Mlius, who
only gave him so much learning as to qualify him for
keeping a little shop in the city. He then became a
schoolmaster, afterwards studied the law, and after
that became a soldier ; in which station his behaviour
was such as caused him to be soon made captain of
a cohort against the Parthians. Being thus introdu¬
ced to arms, he went through the usual gradation of
military preferment in Britain and Moesia, until lie be¬
came the commander of a legion under Aurelius. In
this station he performed such excellent services against
the barbarians, that he was made consul, and succes¬
sively governor of Dacia, Syria, and Asia Minor. In
the reign of Commodus he was banished; but soon after
iccalled, and sent into Britain to reform the abuses in
the army. In this employment his usual extraordinary
fortune attended him: he was opposed by a sedition
among the legions, and left for dead among many
others that were slain. However, he got over this
danger, severely punished the mutineers, and establish¬
ed
R 0 M [ ^
ft nme. ed regularity and discipline amonij the troops he was
sjsent to command. From thence he was removed into
Africa, where the sedition of the soldiers had like to
have been as fatal to him as in his former government.
Removing from Africa, and fatigued with en active
life, he betook himself to retirement: but Commodus,
willing to keep him still in view, made him prefect of
the city ; which employment he filled, when the con¬
spirators fixed upon him as the properest person to suc¬
ceed tfo the empire.
His being advanced by Commodus only served to in¬
crease his fears of falling as an object of his suspicions;
when therefore the conspirators repaired to his house by
night, he considered their arrival as a command from
the emperor fur his death. Upon Lretus entering his
apartment, Pertinax, without any show of fear, cried
out. That for many days he had expected to end h;s life
in that manner, wondering that the emperor had defer¬
red it so long. Howeverr he was not a little surprised
when informed of the real cause of their visit; and be¬
ing strongly urged to accept of the empire, he at last
5f>9 complied with their offer.
11 excel- Being carried to the camp, Pertinax was proclaimed
1' reign- emperor : soon after the citizens and senate consented ;
the joy for the election of a new sovereign being scarce¬
ly equal to that for the death of the former. The pro¬
vinces quickly followed the examp'e of Rome ; so that
he began his reign with universal satisfaction to the
whole empire, in the 68th year of his age.
Nothing could exceed the wisdom and justice of this
monarch’s reign the short time it continued. He pu¬
nished all those who had served to corrupt the late em¬
peror, and disposed of his ill-got possessions to public
uses. He attempted to restrain the licentiousness of
the praetorian bands, and put a s"op to the injuries and
insolences they committed against the people. He sold
most of the buffoons and jesters of Commodus as slaves;
particularly such as had obscene names. He continual¬
ly frequented the senate as oftui as it sat, and never ie-
fused an audience even to the meanest of the people.
His success in foreign affairs was equal to his internal
policy. When the barbarous nations abroad had ce; tain
intelligence that he was emperor, they immediately laid
down their arms,well knowingthe opposition they were
to expect from so experienced a commander. His great
error was avarice; and that, in some measure, served
to hasten his ruin.
The praetorian soldiers, whose manners he had at¬
tempted to reform, having 1 een lo g coirupted by the
indulgence and profusion of their former monarchs. be¬
gan to bate him for the par imony and di-cinlirie he had
introduced among them. They therefore resolved to de¬
throne him ; and for that purpose declared Maternus, an
ancient senator, emperor, and endeavoured to carry him
to the camp to proclaim him. Maternus, however, was
too just to the merits of Fertinax, and too faithful a
subject, to concur in their seditious designs ; wherefore
escaping out of their hands, he fled, fiist to the empe¬
ror, and then out of the city. They then nominated
one Falco, another senator; whom the senate would
have ordered for execution, had not Pertinax interpos-
e<.,who declared that during his reign no senator should
suffer death.
T hepraetorian soldiers then resolved unanimously not
to use any secret conspiracies, or private contrivances,
Yol. XVIII. Part I.
] n o M
but boldly to seize upon the emperor and empire at It™?,
once. 1 hey accordingly, in a tumultuous manner,
marched through the streets of Rome, and entered the
palace without opposition. Such was the terror at their gj'bybi
approach, that the greatest part of the emperor’s atten- praetorian
ciants forsook him ; while those who remained earnestly soldiers.
Untreated him to fly to the body of the people and in¬
terest them in his defence. However, he rejected iheir
advice; declaring, that it was unworthy his imperial
dignity, and all his past actions,to save himself by flight.
Having thus resolved to face the rebels, he had some
hopes that his presence alone would terrify and confound
them. But what conld his former virtues, or the dig-
nity of command, avail against a tumultuous rabble,
nursed up in vice, and ministers of former tyranny?
One Thrasius, a Tungrian, struck him with his lance
on the breast, crying out, “ The soldiers send you this.”
Pertinax finding all was over, covered his head with his
robe, and sunk down, mangled with a multitude of
wounds, which hereceived from various assassins. Ee~
lectus, and some more of his attendants, who attempted
to defend him, were also slain : his son and daughter
only escaped, who happened to be lodged out of the pa¬
lace. Thus after a reign of three months, Pertinax fell
a sacrifice to the licentious fury of the praetorian army.
I rom the number of his adventures, he was called the
tennis ball of Fortune ; and certainly no man ever ex¬
perienced such a variety of situations w ith so blameless
a character.
1 he soldiers having committed this outrage, retired The empire
with great precipitation ; and getting out of the city exPosed to
to the rest of their companions, expeditiously fortified f*le’ptnjj
their camp, expecting to be attacked by the citizens, oidfus Ju-
Two days having passed without any attempt of this Harms,
kind, they became more insolent; and willing to make
use of the pov/er of which they found themselves pos¬
sessed, made proclamation, that they would sell the em¬
pire to whoever would purchase it at the highest price.
In consequence of this proclamation, so odious and un¬
just, only two bidders were found ; namely, Sulpicia-
nus and Did us Julianus: The former, a consular per¬
son, praffect of the city, and son-in-law to the late em¬
peror Pertinax; the latter, a consular person likewise,
a great lawyer, and the w: althiest man in the city.
He was itting with some friends at dinner when the
proclamation was published ; and being charmed with
the prospect of unbounded power, immediately rose
from tabU and hastened to the camp. Sulpicianus
was got there before him ; but as he had rather pro¬
mises than treasure to bestow, the offers of Diclius, who
produced immense sums of ready money, prevailed.
He was received into the camp by a ladder, and they
instantly swore to obey him as emperor. From the
camp he was attended by his new electors into the
city ; the whole body of hjs guards, which consisted of
10,000 men, ranged around him in such order as if
they had prepared for battle, and not for a peaceful
ceremony. The citffens, however, refused to confirm
his election ; but rather cursed him as he passed. Up¬
on being conducted to the senate-house, he addressed
the few senators that were present in a very laconic
speech: “Fathers, you want an emperor; and I am
the fittest person you can choose.” But even this, short
as it seems, was unnecessary, since the senate had it not
in their power to refuse their approbation. His rneech
^ F f Leing
Rome.
372
Pescennius
Niger and
Soptimius
Severus as¬
sume the
empire.
373
Julian us
deposed
and put to
death.
K 0 M [ 226
being backed by the army, to whom he had given
about a million of our money, succeeded. The choice
cf the soldiers was confirmed by the senate, and Didius
was acknowledged emperor, now in the 5tth year ot
his age.
It should seem by this weak monarch's conduct when
seated on the throne, that he thought the government
of an empire rather a pleasure than a toil. Instead of
attempting to gain the he rts of his subjects, he gave
himself up to ease and inac ivity, utterly regardless of
the duties of bis station. He was mild and gentle in¬
deed ; neither injuring any nor expecting to be injured.
But that avarice, by which he became opulent, still fol¬
lowed him iu his exaltation; so that the very soldiers
who elected him, soon began to detest him for those
qualities, so very opposite to a military character. The
people also, against whose consent he was chosen, were
no less inimical. Whenever he issued from his palace,
they openly poured forth their imprecations against
him ; crying out, that he was a thief, and had stolen
the empire. Didius, however, in the true spirit of a
trader, patiently bore it all; sometimes beckoning them
with smiles to approach him; and testifying his regard
by every kind of submission.
While Didius was thus contemptuously treated at
home, two valiant generals, in different parts of the em¬
pire, disclaimed his authority, and boldly resolved to at¬
tempt the throne for themselves. These were, Pescen¬
nius Niger, governor of Syria j and Septimius Severus,
commander of the German legions. Niger was beloved
by the people for his clemency and valour; and the re¬
port of his proposing Pertinax for his model, and resol¬
ving to revenge his death, gained him universal esteem
among the people. Being thus apprised of their incli¬
nations, he easily induced his army in Syria to proclaim
him emperor; and his title was, shortly after, acknow¬
ledged by all the kings and potentates in Asia, who sent
their ambassadors to him as their lawful prince. The
pleasure of being thus treated as a monarch, in some
measure retarded his endeavours to secure his title. En¬
tirely s ti fied with the homage of those about him, he
neglectedtheopportunitiesof suppressing his rivah; and
gave himself up to luxury and feasting at Antioch. The
conduct of Severus, an African by birth, was very dif¬
ferent. Being proclaimed by his army, he began by
promising to revenge the death of Pertinax, and took
upon him his name. He next secured the fidelity of all
the strong places in his province; and then resolved,
with the utmost expedition, to march with his whole,
force directly to Rome.
In the mean time, Didius, who disregarded the at¬
tempts of Niger, was great y alarmed at those of Seve¬
rus. He first, with many solicitations, procured the se¬
nate to proclaim him a traitor. He then applied him¬
self to make the necessary provisions to oppose him, in
which he found nothing but disappointment. The co¬
horts that elected him were enervated by vice and lux¬
ury ; the people detested his cause; and the cities of
Italy had long been disused to the arts of war. Some
advised him to march forward, and meet Severus. as he
was crossing the Alps ; others were for sending the ge¬
nerals upon that expedition. The unfortunate Didius,
unequal to the task of empire, and quite confounded
with the multiplicity of counsels, could take no other
] e o M
resolution but that of awaiting his rival’s Coming at
Rome. Accordingly, soon after being informed of his wr'’
approach, he obtained the consent of the senate to send
his ambassadors, offering to make him a partner of the
empire. But Severus rejected this offer, conscious of
his own strength, and of the weakness of the proposer.
The senate soon appeared of the same sentiments; and
perceiving the timidity and weakness of their present
master, began to abandon him, alleging, that he who
could not defend the empire was not worthy to govern
it. Didius vainly endeavoured to reduce them to their
duty, first by intreaties, and then by threats ; but these
only served to hasten his destruction The senate be¬
ing called together, as was formerly practised in the
times of the commonwealth by the consuls, they una¬
nimously decreed, That Didius should be deprived of
the empire, and that Severus should be proclaimed in
his stead. They then commanded Didius to be slain ;
and sent messengers for this purpose to the palace,
where they found him disarmed, and weeping among
a few friends that still adhered to his interest. When
the executioners began to prepare for their fatal errand,
he expostulated with them, demanding what crime he
had committed ? He could not be persuaded to think,
that paying his money, and receiving an empire in ex¬
change, deserved so severe a punishment. The execu¬
tioners, however, were neither able nor willing to en¬
ter into the merits of the cause ; they presently led him
into the secret baths of the palace, and obliging him
to stretch his neck forwards, after the manner of con¬
demned criminals, struck off his head, and placed it up
in those courts where he had formerly pleaded with
great success.
The senate having thus dispatched Didius, sent am- ^ev^jL
bassadors to Severus, yielding him obedience, granting piarejL
him the ensigns and the usual titles of empire, and in- peroi.
forming him of the death of Didius. Severus, who
was now about 47 years of age, received them with all
proper respect; and entertaining them honourably, con¬
tinued his march towards Rome. As he came near the
city, his first exertion of power was, to have all the prae¬
torian soldiers who had lately sold the empire come forth
unarmed to meet him. These, though sensible of their
danger, had no other resource left but compliance; and
accordingly came forward with branches oi laurel, as if
to welcome his approach. Severus, however, soon show¬
ed how little capable their present submission was to
atone for their past offences : after upbraiding them, in
a short speech, with all their crimes, he commanded
them to be instantly stripped of their military habits,
deprived of the name and honour of soldiers, and banish¬
ed 100 miles from Rome. He then entered the city in
a military manner, took possession of the palace, and
promised the senate to conduct himself with clemency
and justice. However, though he united great vigour
with the most refined policy, yet his African cunning
was considered as a particular dtfect in him. He is ce¬
lebrated for his wit, learning, and prudence ; but equal¬
ly blamed lor infidelity and cruelty. In short, he seem¬
ed alike disposed to the performance of the greatest acts
oi virtue and the most biood}< severities. He began bis
command, by seizing ail the children of such as had em¬
ployments or authority in the east, and detained them as
pledges for their lathers loyalty. He next supplied the
city
1
It O M [ 227 ] It 0 M
Itfliue. city with com; and then with all possible expedition
marched against Niger, who was still considered and
374-] honoured as emperor of the east.
'erde- One of the chief obstacles to his march was, the leav¬
ed and ing behind him Clodius Albinus, commander of the le¬
gions in Britain, whom he by all means wished to secure
in his interests. For this end he endeavoured to pre¬
vail upon him, by giving him hopes of succeeding to the
empire; insinuating, that he himself was declining, and
his children were as yet but infants. To deceive him
still farther, he wrote in the same style to the senate,
gave him the title of Coesnr, and ordered money to be
coined with his image. These artifices serving to lull
Albinus into false security, Severus marched against Ni¬
ger with all his forces. After some undecisive conflicts,
the last great battle that was fought between these ex¬
traordinary men was upon the plains of Issus, on the
very spot where Alexander had formerly conquered Da¬
rius. Besides the two great armies drawn up on the
plain, the neighbouring mountains were covered with
infinite numbers of people, who were merely led by cu¬
riosity to become spectators of an engagement that was
to determine the empire of the world. Severus was
conqueror ; and Niger’s head being struck off by some
soldiers of the conquering army, was insultingly carried
through the camp on the point of a lance.
This victory secured Severus in the possession of the
throne. Flow ever, the Partbians, Persians, and some
fcther neighbouring nations, took up arms, under a pre¬
tence of vindicating Niger’s cause. The emperor march¬
ed against them in person, had many engagements with
them, and obtained such signal victories over them,
as enlarged the empire, and established peace in the
375 cast-.
jinus Niger being no more, Severus now turned his views
cated against Albinus, whom he resolved by every means to
‘jf,' destroy. For this purpose he sent assassins into Britain,
under a pretence of bringing him letters, but in reality
to dispatch him. Albinus being apprised of their de¬
signs, prevented their attempt by recurring toopenforce
and proclaiming himself emperor. Nor was he without
a powerful army to support his pretensions ; of which
Severus being sensible, bent his whole force to oppose
him. From the east he continued his course across the
straits of Byzantium, into the most western parts of Eu¬
rope, without intermission. Albinus being informed of
his approach, went over to meet him with his forces in¬
to Gaul; so that the campaign on both sides was car¬
ried on with great vigour. Fortune seemed for a while
variab’e; but at last a decisive engagement came on,
which was one of the most desperate recorded in theRo-
man history. It lasted from morning till night, without
any seeming advantage on either side ; at length the
troops of Severus began to fly, and he himself happen¬
ing to fall from his horse, the army of Albinus cried
out. Victory. But the engagement was soon renewed
with vigour by Lsetus, one of Severus’s commanders,
who came up with a body of reserve, designing to de¬
stroy both parties and make himself emperor. This at¬
tempt, though designed against both, turned out entire¬
ly to the advantage of Severus. Fie therefore again
charged whth such fury and exactness, that he soon
plucked the victory from those who but a short time
before seemed conquerors ; and pursuing them into the
«ty of Lyons, took Albinus prisoner, and cut off his
head ; treating his dead body with insults that could
ooly flow from a mean and revengeful temper. Ail the
senators who were slain in battle he ordered to be quar¬
tered, and such as were taken alive were immediately
executed.
Having thus secured himself in possession of the em¬
pire, upon his return to Rome he loaded his soldiers with
rewards and honours ; giving them such privileges as
strengthened his own power, while they destroyed that
of the state. For the soldiers, who had hitherto showed
the strongest inclination to an abuse of power, were now
made arbiters of the fate of emperors; and we shall
henceforward behold them setting them up, and de¬
throning them, at pleasure.
Being thus secure of his army, he resolved to give
way to his natural turn for conquest, and to oppose his
arms against the Parthians, who were then invading the
frontiers of the empire. Having therefore previously
given the government of domestic policy to one Plauti-
anus, a particular favourite of his, to whose daughter
he married his son Caracalla, he set out for the east, and
prosecuted the war with his usual expedition and success.
He forced submission from the king of Armenia, de¬
stroyed several cities in Arabia Felix, landed on the
Parthian coasts, took and plundered the famous city
Ctesiphon, marched back through Palestine and Egypt,
and at length returned to Rome in triumph.
During this interval, Piaulianus, who was left to di¬
rect the affaix-s of Rome, began to think of aspiring to
the empire himself. Upon the emperor’s return, he em¬
ployed a tribune of the praetorian cohorts, of which he
was the commander, to assassinate him, as likewise his
son Caracalla. The tribune seemed cheerfully to under¬
take this dangerous office ; but instead of going through
with it, informed Severus of his favourite’s treachery.
He at first received it as an improbable story, and as the
artifice of some one who envied his favourite’s fortune.
However, he was at lastpersuaded to permit the tribune
to conduct Plautianus to the emperor’s apartments.
With this intent the tribune went and amuspd him with
a pretended account of his killing the emperor and his
son, desiring him, if he thought it fit to see them dead,
to come with him to the palace. As Plautianus ar¬
dently desired their deaths, he readily gave credit to
this relation ; and following the tribune, he was con¬
ducted at midnightinto the innermost recesses of the pa¬
lace. But what must have been his disappointment,
when, instead of finding the emperor lying dead, as he
expected, he beheld the room lighted up with torches,
and Severus, surrounded by his friends, prepared in ar¬
ray to receive him. Being asked by the emperor, with
a stern countenance, what had brought him there at
that unseasonable time? hewas at first utterly confound¬
ed ; wherefore, not knowing what excuse to make, he
ingenuously confessed the whole, intreating forgiveness
for what he had intended. The emperor seemed in the
beginning inclined to pardon; but Caraealla his son,
who from the earliest age showed a disposition to cruel¬
ty, spurned him away in the midst of his supplications,
and with his sword ran him through the body.
Severus having escaped this danger, spent a consider¬
able time in visiting some cities in Italy, pe. mitting none
of his officers to sell places of trust or dignity, and di¬
stributing justice with the strictest impartiality. He
took such an exact order in managing his exchequer,
Ff2 that
lloriie.
376
Expedition
of Severus
into Britain.
377
Servants
dies.
378
Caracalla
and Geta
succeed.
It 0 M [ 228 ] It O M
t'h it, notwithstanding his great expences, he left more
money behind him than any of his predecessors. His
armies also were kept upon the most respectable footing;
so that he feared no invasion. Being equally attentive
to the preservation of all parts of the empire, he resol¬
ved to make his last expedition into Britain, where the
Romans were in danger of being destroyed or compelled
to lly the province- Wherefore, after appointing his
two sons Caracalla and Geta joint successors in the em¬
pire, and taking them with him, he landed in Britain,
to the great terror of such as had drawn down his resent¬
ment. Upon his progress into the country, he left his
son Geta in the southern part of the province, which
had continued in obedience, and marched with his son
Caraca'la against the Caledonians. In this expedition,
his army suffered prodigious hardships in pur uing the
enemv ; they were obliged to hew their way through
int-icate forests, to drain extensive marshes, and form
bridges over rapid rivers ; so that he lo t 50,000 men
by fatigue and sickness. However, he supported all
these inconveniences with the grea est bravery; and is
said to have prosecu ed his successes with such vigour,
that he compelled the enemy to sue for peace ; which
they obtained, not without the surrender of a consi ler-
able part of their country. We must here observe,
however, that the Piets and Caledonians are so often
confounded together by historians, that many mistakes
have thenceai isen concerning the progi ess andconquests
ol the Romans in the north of Britain. But from the
boundary forme t by the famous wall of Severus (see Si;-
verus’s Wall), we must conclude, that no part of Ca¬
ledonia, properly so called, had been either on this or
any other occasion ceded to him; and there is reason to
believe, that he rather received checks from the people
of that territory, than was ever able to make any consi¬
derable impression upon them. Be this, however, as it
may, after having made peace, and built his wall, he
retired to York ; where, partly through grief at the ir¬
reclaimable life of Caracalla, he found himself daily de¬
clining, having already lost the use of his feet. To add
to the distress of his situation, he was informed that the
soldiers had revolted, arid declared his son emperor. In
this exigence, he seemed once more to recal his natural
vigour; he got himself immediately put into his litter,
and commanded the new emperor, with the tribunes
and centurions, to be brought before him. Though all
were willing to court the favour of the young emperor,
such was the authority of Severus, that none dared to
disobey. They appeared before him confounded and
trembling, and implored pardon upon their knees.
Upon which, putting his hand to his head, he cried
out, “ Know, that it is the head that governs, and not
the feet.” However, soon perceiving his disorder to
increase, and knowing that he could not outlive it, he
called for poison; which being refused him, he loaded
his stomach with food; which not being aide to digest,
it soon brought him to his end, in the 65th year of
his age, after an active though cruel reign of about 18
years.
Caracalla and Geta being acknow’edged as emperors
by the army, began to show a mutual hatred to each
other even before their arrival at Rome. Their only
agreement was, in resolving to deify Severus their fa¬
ther; but soon after, each sought to attach t! e senate
and army to his own particular interest. They were
of very opposite dispositions : Caracalla was fierce and Home
cruel to an extreme degree; Geta was mild and mer- '-''“y''
ciful; so that the city soon found the dangerous effects
of being governed by two princes of equal power and
contrary inclinations.
But this opposition was of no long continuance ; for Geta m I
Caracalla being resolved to govern alone, furiously en- dtredb f
tered Geta’s apartment, and, followed by ruffians, slew tawed
him in his mother’.- arms. Having committed this de¬
testable murder, be issued with great haste from the pa¬
lace, crying out. That his brother would have slain
him; and that he was obliged, in self-defence, to reta¬
liate the intended injury. He then took refuge among
the praetorian cohorts, and in a pathetic tone began
to implore their assistance, still making the same ex¬
cuse for his conduct. To this he added a much more
prevailing argument, 'promising to bestow upon them
the largesses usually given upon the election of new em¬
perors, and distributing among them almost all the trea¬
sures which had been amassed by his father. By such
persuasives the soldiers did not hesitate to proclaim
him sole emperor, and to stigmatize the memory of his
brother Geta as a traitor and an enemy to the common- '
wealth The senators were soon after induced, either
through favour or fear, to approve what had been done
by the army : Caracalla wept for the death of Ins bro¬
ther whom he had slain; and, to carry Iris hypocrisy
to the utmost extreme, ordered him to be adored as a
god. _ 3g
Being now emperor, he went on to mark his course who j res
w ith blood. Whatever was done by Domitian or Nero a most! >
fell short of this monster’s barbarities. Lsetus, who first hlood}i-|
advised him to murder his brother, was the first who fell r£int'
a sacrifice to his jealousy. His own wife Plautina fol¬
lowed. Papinian, the renowned civilian, was defeated
for refusing to write in vindication of his cruelty; an¬
swering the emperor’s request, by observing, That it
was much easier to commit a parricide than to defend it.
He commanded all governors to be slain that his brother
had appointed; and destroyed not less than 2000 per¬
sons who had a; Ihered to his party. Whole nights were
spent in the execution of his bloody decrees ; and the
dead bodies of people of all ranks were carried out of
the city in carts, where they were burnt in heaps, with¬
out any of the ceremonies of a funeral. Upon a cer¬
tain occasion, he ordered his soldiers to set upon a
crowded audience in the theatre, only for discountenan¬
cing a charioteer whom he happened to favour. Per¬
ceiving himself hated by the people, he publicly said,
that he could insure his own safety though not their
love; so that he neither valued their reproaches nor
feared their hatred. 3?[ d
I he safety which he so much built upon wras placed IliscM*
in the protection of his soldiers. He had exhausted vagan; li¬
the treasury, dra'ned the provinces, and committed a
thousand acts of rapacity, merely to keep them stedfast ^ery[
in his interests; and being disposed to trust himself ’ ^
with them particularly, he resolved to lead them upon
a visit through all the provinces of the empire. Pie first
wrent into Germany ; where, to oblige the natives, ho
dressed himself in the habit of their country. From
thence he travelled into Mar edonia, where he pretend¬
ed to be a great admirer of Alexander the Great; and
among other extravagancies caused a statue of that
monarch to be made with two faces; one of which re¬
sembled
R O M [ 229 ] II O M
jtomc. se.'nblf :! Alexander and the other himself. He was so
corrupted by flattery, that he called himself Alexander ;
walked as he was told that monarch had walked ; an I,
like him, beat his head to one shouMer. Shortly after,
arriving at Lesser Asia and the ruins of Troy, as he
was viewing the tomb of Achilles, he took it into his
head to resemble th.t hero; and one of h:s freedmea
happening to die at that time, he ti ed the same cere-
. monies that were performed at the tomb of Patmcius.
Passing then e into Egypt, he massacre ! in the most
terrible manner the inhabitants of Alexandria, on ac¬
count of the satires they composed on him, as is related
under the article Alexandria.
Going from thence into Syria, he invited Artaba-
nus king of Parthia to a conference; desiring his
daughter in mar iage, and promising him the most ho¬
nourable protection. In consequence of this the king
met him on a spacious plain, unarmed, and only attend¬
ed with a vast concourse of his nobles. This was what
Caracalla desired, Regardless of his promise, or the
law ol nations, he instantly surrounded him with armed
troops, let in wild beasts among his attendants, and
made a most terrible slaughter among them; Artaba-
nus himself escaping with the utmost difficulty. For
tins vile treachery he obtained from the senate the sur-
332 name of Parlhicus.
.met bis Upon his return towards Rome, it would seem as if
!ers his vices were inexhaustible ; for having been guilty of
parricide, he now resolved to marry the mother of Geta
whom he had slain. It happened that one day seeing
her drop her veil, which disclosed her naked bosom,
which was extremely beautiful, he told her. that he
would possess thosecharms he beheld, if it were lawful.
To this unnatural request she hesitated not to answer,
that he might ei joyall things who possessed all. Where-
upon, setting aside all duty and respect for his deceased
father, he celebrated his nuptials with her in public, to-
t^lly disregarding the censures and the sarcasms of man¬
kind.
However, though he disregarded shame, he was not
insensible to fear. He was ever uneasy in the consci¬
ousness of being universally hated; and was continually
consulting astrologers concerning what death he should
die. Among others, he sent one of bis confidants, na¬
med Muternianus, with orders to consult all the astro'o-
gers in the city concerning his end. Maternianus con¬
sidered this as a proper time to get rid of Macrinus,
the emperor’s principal commander in Mesopotamia;
a man who was daily supplanting him in Ids master’s
favour. He,, therefore informed him by letter, as if
from the astrologers,that.Macrinus had a design against
his life ; and they consequently advised him to put the
conspirator to death. This letter was sent sealed, and
made up, amongst many others, to be conveyed with
the greater secrecy, and delivered to the emperor as he
was preparing for a chariot rat e. However, as it never
was his custom to interrupt his pleasures for his busi¬
ness, he gave the packet to Macrinus to read over, and
to inform him of the contents when more at leisure.
In perusing these letters, when Macrinus came to that
which regarded himself, he was unable to contain his
surprise and terror. His first care was, to reserve the
letter in question to himself, and to acquaint the em¬
peror only with the sub dance of the rest. Tie then
M about the most probable means of compasdng his
death, by which alone he could expect any safety. At
length he determined to apply to one Martialis, a man
of great strength, and a centurion of the guards, who
hated the emperor from various motives; particularly
for the death of a brother, whom Caracalla had ordered
to be slain. Flint therefore Macrinus exhorted to re¬
venge his brother’s death, by killing the tyrant, which
he might eadly effect, as being alw’ays so near his per-
so '. Martialis readily undertook the dangerous task ;
being willing to meet death himself, so he might ob¬
tain his desire of seeing the tyrant expire before him. ,
Accordingly, as the emperor was riding out or;e day lie is mur
near a little city called Carrce, he happened to with- tiered,
draw himself privately, upon a natural occasion, with
only one page to hold his horse. This was the oppor¬
tunity Martialis had so long and ardently desire 1 ;
wherefore running to him as if he had been called, he
stabbed the emperor in the back, so that he died im¬
mediately. Martialis unconcernedly returned to his
troop; hut retiring by insensible degrees, he endeavour¬
ed to secure himself by flight. But his companions
soon mhdng him, and the p^ge giving information of
what had been done, he was pursued by the German
horse and cut in pieces.
During the reign of this execrable tyrant, which
continued six years, the empire was every day declin¬
ing; the soldiers were entirely masters of every election;
and as there were various armies in different parts, so
there were as many interests all opposite to each otiier
Caiata'da, by satisfying their most unreasonable appe¬
tites, destroyed all discipline among them, and all sub¬
ordination in the state. [ 3S3 ]
The soldiers, now without an emperor, after a sus- Macrinus
pense of two days, fixed upon Macrinus, who took all 6uecee<*s*
posdb’e methods to conceal his being privy to Cara-
calla’s murder. The senate confirmed their choice short¬
ly after; and likewise that of his son Diadumenus,
whom he took as a partner in the empire. Macrinus
was 52 years old when he entered upon the government
of the empire. He was of obscure parentage; some
say by birth a Moor, who by the mere rotation of of¬
fice, being first made prsefect of the praetorian bands,
was now, by treason and accident, called to fill the
throne. We are told but little of this emperor, except
his engaging in a bloody though undecided battle with
Artabanus king of Parthia, who came to take vengeance
for the injury he had sustained in the late reign : how¬
ever, this monarch finding his real enemy dead, was
content to make peace, and returned into Parthia.
Something is also said of the severity of this emperor's
discipline ; for to sm h a pitch oflieentiousness was the
Roman army now arrived, that the most severe punish¬
ments were unable to restrain the soldiers ; and yet the
most gentle inflictions were looked upon as severity. It
was this rigorous discipline, together with the artifices
of Majsa, grandmother to Heiiogabalus the natural on ^
ofCa'acalla, that caused the emperor’s ruin. Heiio- Hetiog.a-
gabalus was prie t of a temple dedicated to the Sun, in bilus re-
Eme-a, a city of Phoenicia ; and though hue 14 years volts against
old was greatly loved by the army for the beauty of him*
his person, and the memory of his father, whom they
still considered as their greatest benefactor. This was
soon perceived by the grandmother ; who being very
rich in gold and jewels, gave liberal presents among
them, while they frequently repaired to the temple
both
II O M ' * r 2S0 ] II 0 M
II'Otkc. both from the garrison in the city and the camp of Ma-
crinus. This intercourse growing every day more fre¬
quent, the sokllers, being disgusted -with the severities
of their present emperor, began to think of placing !de-
liogabalus in his stead. Accordingly, sending for him
to their camp, he was immediately proclaimed; and
such were the hopes of his virtues, that all men began
to affect his interests.
Macrinus, who at this time was pursuing his plea¬
sures at Antioch, gave but little attention to the first
report; only sending his lieutenant Julian, with some
legions, to quell the insurrection. However, these, like
the rest, soon declared for Heliogabalus, and slew their
general. It was then that Macrinus found he had
treated the rebellion too slightly; he therefore resolved,
with his, son, to march directly against the seditious le¬
gions, and force them to their duty. Both parties met
on the confines of Syria : the battle was for some time
furious and obstinate; but at last Macrinus was over-
Macrinus thrown, and obliged to seek safety by flight. His prin-
defuated cipal aim was to get to Rome, where he knew his pre-
and put to sence was desired ; wherefore he travelled through the
ueatlu provinces of Asia Minor with the utmost expedition
and privacy, but unfortunately fell sick at the city of
Chalcedon. There those who were sent in pursuit,
overtook and put him to death, together with his son
Diadumenus, after a short reign of one year and two
months.
The senate and citizens of Rome being obliged to
submit to the appointment of the arm}7 as usual, Helio¬
gabalus ascended the throne at the age of 14. One at
so early an age, invested with unlimited p >w7er, and sur¬
rounded with flatterers, could be expected to act only
as they thought proper to dii’eet. This young empe¬
ror was entirely led by them ; and being sensible that
3g(5 it was in his power to indulge all his ajjpetites, he stu-
Helioga- died only their gratification. As he is described by
balus worse historians, he appears a monster of sensuality. His
than any of short life therefore is but a tissue of effeminacy, lust,
cessorsde" flIK^ extravagance. He married, in the small space of
four years, six wives, and divorced them all. Pie built
a temple to the sun; and willing that his god should
have a wife as well as himself, he married him to Pallas,
and shortly after to the moon. His palace was a place
of rendezvous for all the prostitutes of Rome, whom
he frequently met naked, calling them his fellow sol¬
diers, and companions in ihe field. He was so fond of the
sex, that he carried his mother with him to the senate-
house, and demanded that she should always be present
when matters of importance were debated. He even
went so far as to build a senate-house for w7omen, with
suitable orders, habits, and distinctions, of which his
mother was made president. They met several times ;
all their debates turning upon the fashions of the clay,
and the different formalities to be used in giving and
receiving visits. To these follies, he added great cruelty
and boundless prodigality ; so that he was heard to say,
that such dishes as were cheaply obtained were scarcely
worth eating. His suppers therefore generally cost
6000 crowns, and often 60,000. He was always dressed
in cloth of gold and purple, enriched with precious
stones, and yet never wore the same habit twice. His
palace, his chambers, and hisbeds, were all furnished of
the richest stuffs, covered with gold and jewels. When¬
ever he tooK. horse, all the way between his apartment
and the place of mounting was covered with gold and Rm
silver dust strewn at his approach. '‘•'V
These excesses were soon perceived by his grandmo¬
ther Maesa, whose intrigues had first raised him to the
throne; so that she thought to lessen his power by di¬
viding it. For this purpose, under a pretence of free¬
ing him from the cares of public business, she persua- 3; 1
dec! him to adopt his cousin-german, Alexander, as his Adopt! i
successor; and likewise to make him his partner in the lexant! j
consulship. Heliogabalus, having thus raised his cousin, jj
had scarcely given him his power, when he wished again coj]eas;f
to take it away; but the virtues of this young prince e|
had so greatly endeared the people and the army to
him, that the attempt had like to have been fatal to
the tyrant himself The praetorian soldiers mutinying,
attempted to kill him as he was walking in his gardens ;
but he escaped, by hiding himself from their fury.
However, upon returning to their camp, they conti¬
nued the sedition ; requiring that the emperor should
remove such persons from about him as oppressed the
subject, and contributed to contaminate him. They
required also the being permitted to guard the young
prince themselYes, and that none of the emperor’s fa¬
vourites or familiars should ever be permitted to con¬
verse with him. Heliogabalus was reluctantly obliged
to comply; and conscious of the danger he was in,
made preparations for death, when it should arrive, in
a manner truly whimsical and peculiar. He built a lofty
tower with steps of gold and pearl, from whence to
throw himself headlong in case of necessity. He also
prepared cords of purple silk and gold to strangle him¬
self with ; he provided golden swords and daggers to
stab himself with ; and poison to be kept in boxes of
emerald, in order to obtain what death he chose best.
Thus fearing all things, but particularly suspicious of
the designs of the senate, he banished them all out of
the city : he next attempted to poison Alexander, and
spread a report of his death ; but perceiving the sol¬
diers begin to mutiny, be immediately took him in his
chariot to the camp, where he experienced a fresh mor¬
tification, by finding all the acclamations of the army
directed only to his successor. This not a little raised
his indignation, and excited his desire of revenge. He
returned towards the city, threatening the most severe
punishments against those who had displeased him, and a
meditating fresh cruelties. However, the soldiers were jsmu red
unwilling to give him time to put his designs in execu- by
tion : they followed him directly to his palace, pursued diers. !
him from apartment to apartment, and at last found
him concealed in a privy ; a situation very different
from that in which he expected to die. Having drag¬
ged him from thence through the streets, with the most
bitter invectives, and having dispatched him, they at¬
tempted once more to squeeze his pampered body into
a privy; but not easily effecting this, they threw it into
the Tiber, with heavy "weights, that none might after¬
wards find or give it burial. This was the miserable
and ignominious death of Heliogabalus, in the 18th
year ot his age, after a detestable reign of four years.
His mother also was slain at the same time by the sol¬
diers ; as were also many of the opproh ions associates
of his criminal pleasures. ^ ^
Alexander being, without opposition, declared em- vjrtu,jf
peror, the senate, in their usual method of adulation,Alexar1*
were for conferring new titles upon him ; but he mo¬
destly
ROM [ 231 ] R O M
I i ne* destly declined them all, alleging, that titles were only
w ^ honourable when given to virtue, not to station. This
outset was a happy omen of his future virtues; and
few princes in history have been more commended by
contemporaries, or indeed more deserved commenda¬
tion. To the mosf rigid justice he added the greatest
Humanity. He loved the good, and was a severe re¬
prover of the lewd and infamous. His accomplish¬
ments were equal to his virtues. He was an excellent
mathematician, geometrician, and musician; he was
equally skilled in painting and sculpture; and in poetry
few of his time could equal him. In short, such were
his t dents, and such the solidity of his judgment, that
though but 16 years of age, he was considered as a wise
old man.
The first part of his reign was spent in a reformation
of the abuses of his predecessor. He restored the se¬
nators to their rank ; nothing being undertaken with¬
out the most sage advisers, and most mature delibera¬
tion. Among the number of his advisers was his mo¬
ther Mammaea; a woman eminent for her virtues and
accomplishments, and who made use of her power as
well to secure her son the affections of his subjects, as
to procure them the most just administration. He was
a rigid punisher of such magistrates as took bribes, say¬
ing, That it was not enough to deprive such of their
places ; for their trusts being great, their lives, in most
cases, ought to pay for a breach of them. On the con¬
trary, he thought he could never sufficiently reward
such as had been remarkable for their justice and inte¬
grity, keeping a register of their names, and sometimes
asking such of them as appeared modest and unwilling
to approach him, why they were so backward in de¬
manding their reward, and why they suffered him to be
in their debt? His clemency extended even to the
Christians, who had been punished in the former reigns
with unrelenting barbarity. Upon a contest between
them and a company of cooks and vintners, about a
piece of public ground, which the one claimed as a
place for public avorship, and the other for exercising
their respective trades, he decided the point by his re¬
script in these words : <c It is better that God be wor¬
shipped there in any manner, than that the place should
ISO be put to uses of drunkenness and debauchery.”
f )res His abilities in war were not inferior to his assiduity
iq (Fairs jn peace. The empire, which from the remissness and
", 2cm' debauchery of the preceding reigns hoav began to be
attacked on every side, Avanted a person of vigour and
conduct to defend it. Alexander faced the enemy
wherever the invasion was most formidable, and for a
short time deferred its ruin. His first expedition, in the
tenth year of his reign, was against the Parthians and
Persians, whom he opposed with a poAverful army.—
The Persians Avere routed in a decisive engagement with
great slaughter; the cities of Ctesiphon and Babylon
were once more taken, and the Roman empire was re¬
stored to its former limits. Upon his return to An¬
tioch, his mother Mammaea sent for the famous Ori-
gen, to be instructed by him in the principles of Chris¬
tianity ; and after discoursing with him for some time
upon the subject, dismissed him, with a proper safe¬
guard, to his native city of Alexandria. About the
same time that Alexander Avas victorious in the East,
Furius Celsus, his general, obtained a signal victory
over the Mauritanians in Africa, Varius Macrinus was
successful in Germany, and Junius Pahnatus returned
Avith conquest from Armenia. HoAvever, the number
of these victories only hastened the decline ot the em¬
pire, which was Avasted by the exertion of its oavii
strength, and Avas now becoming little more than a
splendid ruin.
About the 13th year of his reign, the Upper Ger¬
mans, and other northern nations, began to pour down
immense swarms of people upon the more southern parts
of the empire. They passed the Rhine and the Da¬
nube Avith such fury, that all Italy Avas throAvn into the
most extreme consternation. The emperor, ever ready
to expose him sell for the safety of his people, made
what levies he could, and went in person to stem the
torrent; Avhich he speedily effected. It was in the
course of his successes against the enemy, that he Avas
cut off by a mutiny among his soldiers The legions
encamped about Moguntia, leaving been abominably
corrupted during the reign of Heliogab; lus, and train¬
ed up in all kinds of rapine and disobedience, required
the most strict command Alexander could neither en¬
dure their tumultuary obedience, nor they his regular
discipline. His oAvn faults, and those of his mother
Mammaea, were objected against him. They openly 391
ex claimed, That they were governed by an avaricious is murder-
Avoman, and a mean-spirited boy; and resolved upon ecl*
electing an emperor capable of ruling alone. In this
general revolt. Maximinus, an old and experienced
commander, held frequent conferences Avith the soldiers,
and enflamed the sedition. At length, being determin¬
ed to dispatch their present emperor, they sent an exe¬
cutioner into his tent; Avho immediately struck off his
head, and, shortly after, that of his mother. He died
in the ‘29th year of his age, after a prosperous reign of
thirteen years and nine days.
The tumults occasioned by the death of A lexander Succeeded
being appeased. Maximinus, who had been the chief by Maxi¬
promoter of the sedition, was chosen emperor. 'I his minus, a
extraordinary man, Avhose chjracter deserves particular m:in of gi-
attention, Avas born of very obscure parentage, being
the son of a poor herdsman of Thrace In the begin- extraor-
ning he followed his father’s profession, and only exer- dinary
cised his personal courage against the robbers Avho in- strength,
fested the part of the country in which he lived Soon
after, his ambition increasing, he left his poor employ¬
ment, and enlisted in the Roman army ; where he soon
became remarkable for his great strength discipline,
and courage. This gigantic man Avas no less than eight
feet and a half high ; he had a body and strength cor¬
responding to his size, being not less remarkable for the
magnitude than the symmetry of his person. His wife’s
bracelet usually served him for a thumb-ring: and his
strength was so great, that he Avas able to draw a car¬
riage which two oxen could not move. He could
strike out a horse’s teeth with a blow of his fist, and
break ;ts thigh Avith a kick. His diet was as extraor¬
dinary as the rest of his endowments,• he generally ate
40 pounds weight of flesh every day, and drank six gal¬
lons of wine, without committing any debauch in either.
With a frame so athletic he Avas possessed of a mind
undaunted in danger, and neither fearing nor regarding
any man. The first time he was made known to the
emperor Severus, Avas upon his celebrating games on the
birth-day of hi- son Geta. Maximinus Avas then a rude
countryman, and requested the emperor to be permitted
to
I! tfn.ie.
393
Becomes a
cruel ty¬
rant.
It O M [ 2
to contend for ti*e prizes which were distrihuted to llte
best runners, wrestlers, and boxers, of the army. Se¬
ver us, unwilling to infringe the military discipline,
would not permit him at first to combat, except with
slaves, against whom his strength appeared astonishing.
He overcame 16 in running, one after the other : he
then kept up w ith the emperor on horseback ; and ha¬
ving fatigued him in the course, he was opposed to se¬
ven of the most active soldiers, and overcame them with
the greatest ease. From that time he was particularly
noticed, and taken into the emperor’s body guards, in
which his assiduity and prompt obedience were parti¬
cularly remarkable. In the reign of Cara cal la, he was
made a centurion, and distinguished himself in this sta¬
tion by his strict attention to the morals and discipline
of those he commanded. When made a tribune, he
still retained the hard simplicity of his life; ate as the
meanest centinel; spent whole days in exercising his
troops ; and would now and then himself wrestle with
eight or tc- of the strongest men in the army, whom
he threw -with scarce any effort. Being thus become
one of the most remarkable men in the empire, both for
courage, discipline and personal activity, he gave, short¬
ly after, a very high instance of his unshaken fidelity:
for wdien Macrinus was made emperor, he refused to
serve under a prince that had betrayed his sovereign ;
and retired to Thrace, his native country, where he fol¬
lowed commerce, and purchased some lands, content
with privacy rather than a guilty dependence. Upon
the accession of Heliogabalus to the throne, this bold
veteran once more returned to the army; but was, in
the very beginning, disgusted at the base effeminacy of
the emperor; who, hearing amazing instances of his
strength, asked him, if he were equally capable in com¬
bats of another nature ? This lewd demand wras so little
suitable to the temper of Taximinus, that he instantly
left the court. Upon the death of Heliogabalus, he
again returned to Home, and was received with great
kindness by Alexander, who particularly recommend¬
ed him to the senate, and made him commander of the
fourth legion, which consisted of new raised soldiers.
Ai aximinus gladly accepted of this charge, and perform¬
ed his duty with great exactness and success, setting an
example of virtue and discipline to all the commanders
of the army. Nor was his valour less apparent against
the Germans, whither he was sent with his legion ; so
that he was unanimously considered as the boldest, bra¬
vest, most valiant, and most virtuous soldier in the
whole empire. He soon, however, forfeited all these
justly merited titles, when he was raised to the throne;
and, from being the most loved commander in the ar¬
my, he became the most cruel tyrant upon earth. Yet
in fact, his former virtues were all of the severe and ri¬
gid kind, which, without any education, might very
easily degenerate into tyranny; so that he might have
mistaken his succeeding cruelty for discipline, and his
severity for justice. However this be, Maximinus is
considered as one of the greatest monsters of cruelty
that ever disgraced power; and, fearful of nothing him¬
self, he seemed to sport with the terrors of all man¬
kind.
He began his reign, by endeavouring to force obe¬
dience from every rank of people, and by vindicating
his authority by violence. The senate and people of
Borne were the first that incurred his resentment.
32 ] K 0 M
They utterly refusing to confirm the election of the lioiwj
army, he was the first emperor who reigned without wr
their concurrence or approbation. However, he seem¬
ed regardless of their opposition, proceeding to secure
his election by putting all such to death as had been
r ised by his predecessors. The Christians also, having
found favour in the former reign, felt the weight of
his resentment; and were persecuted in several parts of
the empire, particularly in those where he himself re¬
sided. His cruelty likewise extended to the rich, whose
lives and estates became a frequent sacrifice to avarice
and suspicion. But what appears still a more extraor¬
dinary instance of his cruelty, being ashamed of the
meanness of his extraction, he commanded all such as
were best acquainted with him and his parentage to be
slain, although there were some among the number that
had received him in his low condition. ggj
However, his cruelties did not ret ml his military Hissut
operations, which were carried on with a sp rit be- &
convng a better monarch. He overthrew the Germans
in several battles, wasted all their country with fire and
sword for 400 miles together, and set a resolution of sub¬
duing all the northern nations as far as the ocean. In
these expeditions, in order to attach the soldiers more
firmly to him, he increased their pay ; and in every duty
of the camp, he himself took as much pains as the
meanest centinel in his army, showing inc redible courage
and assiduity. In every engagement, where the conflict
was hottest. Maximinus was always seen fighting there
in person, and destroying all before him: for, being
bred a barba; ian, he considered it as his duty to com¬
bat as a common soldier, while he commanded as a
general. 30;
In the mean time, his cruelties had so alienated the ^onsF
minds of his subjects, that several conspiracies were
secretly aimed against him. Magnus, a consular person, °
and some others, had plotted to break down a wooden
bridge, as soon as the emperor had passed it, and thus to
abandon him to the enemy. But this being discovered,
gave Maximinus an opportunity of indulging his natural
severity, upon this pretext alone causing above 4000 to
be slain. Shortly after, some of Alexander's old soldiers
v> itndrawing themselves from the camp, proclaimed out
Quarcianus as emperor, who had been lately disgusted
at Maximinus for being dismissed from employment.
J he soldiers, in fact, constrained him to accept of the. ^
dangerous superiority to which he was exposed: and
shortly after, in the spirit of the times, the person who
had been the promoter of his advancement, murdered
him in his bed, and carried his head to Maximinus ;
who received him kindly at first, but soon put him to a
Ci uel death, for his complicated guilt of treason and
treachery.
These partial insurrections were soon after followed
by a spirit of general discontent throughout all the
empire. The provinces of Africa were the first that
showed their detestation of the tyrant, whose extortions
and cruelties ameng them were become insupportable.
I hey first slew his procurator; and afterwards consider- I
ing how dangerous a cihne they had committed, they
resolved to throw off ad expectations of pardon, and 3«f j
a eate a new emperor. Gordian was then proconsul Gordie I
of Africa, a person of great fame for Ins virtues, and prod*511
nghiy reverenced for a blameless life of near 80. enilu:ri
Him, therefore, they determined to elect; and ac¬
cordingly
ROM [ 233 ] R O M
] ne. eordingly the soldiers and natives assembling together,
W tumultuously entered his house, resolved to put their
design in execution. Gordian, who at first supposed
they were come to kill him, being made sensible of
their intentions, utterly refused their offer, alleging his
extreme age, and Maximinus’s power. But all his op¬
position was vain : they constrained him to accept of
the proffered dignity; and he, with his son Gordian,
who was 46’ years of age, were declared emperors. Be¬
ing thus raised contrary to his inclination, the old
man immediately wrote to the senate, declaring that
he had unwillingly accepted of the empire, and would
only keep his authority till he had freed it from the
tyranny of its present oppressor. The senate very joy¬
fully confirmed his election, adjudging Maximinus as
an enemy and traitor to the state. The citizens also
showed an equal zeal in the cause : they flew upon such
as were the reputed friends of Maximinus, and tore
them in pieces ; even some who were innocent falling a
sacrifice to the blind rage of the multitude. So great an
alteration being made in the city against the interests
of Maximinus, the senate were resolved to drive the
opposition to the extreme; and accordingly made all
necessary preparations for their security, ordering Maxi¬
minus’s governors to be displaced, and commanding
all the provinces to acknowledge Gordian for emperor.
This order w'as differently received in different parts, as
people were affected to one or the other party: in some
provinces the governors were slain ; in others, the mes¬
sengers of the senate ; so that all parts of the empire felt
the consequences of the civil war.
am In the mean time, when Maximinus was informed
la jiinus of these charges against him, his rage appeared ungo-
H in8 vernable. He roared like a savage beast, and violent-
ly struck his head against the wall, showing every in-
stance of ungovernable distraction. At length his fury
being somewhat subsided, he called his whole army to¬
gether ; and, in a set speech, exhorted them to re¬
venge his cause, giving them the strongest assurances
that they should possess the estates of all such as had
offended. The soldiers unanimously promised to be
faithful: they received his harangue w th their usual
acclamations; and, thus encouraged, he led them to¬
wards Rome, breathing nothing but slaughter and re¬
venge. However, he found many obstacles to his im¬
petuosity; and, though he desired nothing so much as
dispatch, his marches were incommodious and slow.
The tumultuous and disobedient armies of the empire
were at present very different from the legions that
were led on by Sylla or Caesar ; they were loaded with
baggage, and followed by slaves and women, rather
resembling an eastern caravan, than a military batta¬
lion. To these inconveniences also was added the
hatred of the cities through which he passed, the in¬
habitants all abandoning their houses upon his ap-
proach, and securing their provisions in proper hiding-
j places. However, in this complication of inconveni-
rJ ences and misfortunes, his affairs began to wear a fa¬
vourable appearance in Africa: for Capelianus, the
governor of Numidia, raised a body of troops in his
favour, and marched against Gordian, towards Car¬
thage ; where he fought the younger Gordian, slew him,
and destroyed his army. The father, hearing of the
death of his son, together with the loss of the battle,
strangled himself in his own girdle. Capelianus pursu-
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
ing his victory, entered Carthage; where he gave a ^on,e-
loose to pillage and slaughter, under a pretence of re-
venging the cause of Maximinus. The news of these
successes Avas soon brought to the emperor, who now in¬
creased his diligence, and flattered himself with a speedy
opportunity of revenge. He led on his large army by
hasty journies into Italy, threatening destruction to all
his opposers, and ardently wishing for fresh opportunities
of slaughter.
No tiling could exceed the consternation of the senate
upon the news of this defeat. They now saw them¬
selves not only deprived of the assistance of Gordian
and his son, on whom they greatly relied ; but also op¬
posed by two formidable tyrants, each commanding a
victorious army, directly marching towards Rome, and
meditating nothing but vengeance. In this afflicting
exigence, they, with great solemnity, met at the tem¬
ple of Jupiter, and after the most mature delibera¬
tions, chose Pupienus and Balbinus emperors conjointly.
These were men who had acquired the esteem of the Pupienus
public both in war and peace, having conjmanded ar- Balbi-
mies, and governed provinces, with great reputation ;
and being now appointed to oppose Maximinus, they emperors,
made what levies they could, both in Rome and the
country. With these, Pupienus marched to stop the
progress of the invaders, leaving the city to a fresh and
unlooked for calamity. This was occasionod by two
of Maximinus’s soldiers, who, entering the senate-
house, were slain by two senators. This quickly gave
offence to the body of the praetorian soldiers, who in¬
stantly resolved to take revenge, but were opposed by
the citizens; so that nothing was seen throughout
Rome, but tumult, slaughter, and cruelty. In this uni¬
versal confusion, the calamity was increased by the
soldiers setting the city on fire, while the wretched in¬
habitants were combating each other in the midst of
tire flames.
Nevertheless, Maximinus himself, in whose favour
these seditions were promoted, did not seem to be more
fortunate. Upon being informed of the new election of
emperors, his fury was again renewed, and he passed the
Alps, expecting, upon entering Italy, to refresh his fa¬
tigued andfamished army in that fertile part of the coun¬
try. But in this he was entirely disappointed; the senate
had taken such care to remove all kinds of sustenance to
fortified places, that he still found himself reduced to his
former necessities, while his army began to murmur for
want. T o this another disappointment was added shortly
after: for approaching the city of Aquileia, which he ex- Aquileia
pected to enter without any difficulty, he was astonished besieged by
to find it prepared for the most obstinate resistance, and Maximi-
resolved to hold out a regular siege. This city was well nu3,
fortified and populous, and the inhabitants greatly averse
to Maximinus’s government; but what added still more
to its strength, it was commanded by two excellent gene¬
rals, Crispinus and Menephilis, who had so well furnish¬
ed it with men and ammunition, that Maximinus found
no small resistance, even in investing the place. His first
attempt was, to take the city by storm; but the besieged
threw down such quantities of scalding pitch and sulphur .
upon his soldiers, that they were unable to continue the
assault. He then determined upon a blockade; but the
inhabitants were so resolute, that even the old men and
children were seen combating upon the Avails, while the
women cut off their hair to furnish the soldiers with how-
G g t strings.
ftovne.
W''rw'
401
Is assassina-
,ted.
402
And likc-
uise Pupie-
mis and
Balbinas.
403
Young
Gordian
proclaimed
emperor.
II O M [ ^34 ] K O M
strings. Maximinus’s rage at tRis unexr ected opposition
was now ungovernable : having no enemy to wreck his
resentment upon, he turned it against his own command¬
ers. He put many of his generals to death, as if the
city had held out. through their neglect or incapacity,
while famine made great depradations upon the rest ot
his army. Nothing now appeared on either side to ter¬
minate the contest, except the total destruction ot
either. But a mutiny in Maximinus’s own army a
while rescued the declining empire from destruction,
and saved the lives of thousands. The soldiers being
long harassed by famine and fatigue, and hearing of re¬
volts on every side, resolved to terminate their calami¬
ties by the tyrant’s death. His great strength, and his
being always armed, were, at first, the principal motives
to deter any from assassinating him; but at length having
made his guards accomplices in their design, they set
upon him, while he slept at noon in his tent, and slew
both him and his son, whom he had madfe his partner in
the empire, without any opposition, after an usurpation
of about three years, and in the b.'lth year of his age.
The tyrant being dead, and his body thrown to the
dogs and birds of prey, Pupienus and Balbinus conti¬
nued for some time emperors without opposition. But
the praetorian soldiers, who had long been notorious
for mutiny and treason, soon resolved on further change.
Nor did the dissensions between the ne w made emperors
themselves a little contribute to their downfall: for
though both were remarkable for wisdom and age, yet
they could not restrain the mutual jealousy of each
other’s power. Pupienus claimed the superiority from
his great experience; -while Balbinus was equally aspi¬
ring upon account of his family and fortune.
In this ill-judged contest, the praetorian soldiers,
who were enemies to both, set upon them in their pa¬
lace, at a time their guards were amused with seeing
the Capitoline games. Pupienus perceiving their tu¬
multuous approach, sent with the utmost speed for
assistance from his colleague; but he, out of a culpable
suspicion that something was designed only against him¬
self, refused to send such of the German guards as were
next his person. Thus the seditious soldiers found an
■ easy access to both the emperors apartments; and drag¬
ging them from the palace towards the camp, slew them
both, leaving their dead bodies in the streets, as a dread¬
ful instance of their sedition.
In the midst of this sedition, as the mutineers v/ere
proceeding along, they by accident met Gordian, the
grandson of him who was slain in Africa, and decla¬
red him emperor on the spot. The senate and people
had been long reduced to the necessity of suffering
their emperors to be nominated by the army ; so that
all they could do in the present instance wras to con¬
firm their choice. This prince was but 16 years old
when he began his reign, but his virtues seemed to
compensate for the want of experience. His principal
aims were, to unite the opposing members of the go¬
vernment, and to reconcile the soldiers and citizens
to each other. His learning is said to have been equal
to his virtues; and we are assured that he had 62,000
books in his library. His respect for Misithasus, his
governor and instructor, was such, that he married his
daughter, and profited by his counsels in all the criti¬
cal circumstances of his reign.
Tne first four years of this emperor’s reign were
attended with the utmost prosperity; but in the fifth Rome,
he was alarmed with accounts from the east, that Sa-
por, king of Persia, had furiously invaded the confines I
of the Roman empire, and having taken Antioch, had
pillaged Syria, and all the adjacent provinces. Besides barbuiisi
the Persians, the Goths also invaded the empire on
their side, pouring down like an inundation from the
north, and attempting to fix their residence in the
kingdom of Thrace. To oppose both these invasions,
Gordian prepared an army ; and having gained some
victories over the Goths, whom he obliged to retire, he
turned his arms against the Persians, whom he defeated
upon several occasions, and forced to return home with
disgrace. In gaining these advantages, Misithaeus,
whom he had made praetorian praefect, had the princi¬
pal share; but he dying seon after (as it is supposed,
being poisoned by Philip an Arabian, who was ap¬
pointed his successor), the fortunes of Gordian seemed
to die with him. The army began to be no longer
supplied with provisions as usual; murmurs were heard
to prevail, and these were artfully fomented by Philip.
Thirfgs thus pioceeding from bad to worse, Philip was 4f)
at first made his equal in the command of the empire; jsmur|
shortly after, invested with the sole power; and, atedbyll
length, finding himself capable of perpetrating his long lip. wllj
meditated cruelty, Gordian was, by his order, slain, in succect|
the 22d year of his age, after a successful reign of near
six years.
Philip having thus murdered bis benefactor, was so
fortunate as to be immediately acknowledged emperor
by the army. The senate also, though they seemed at
first to oppose his power, confirmed his election, and
gave him, as usual, the title of Augustus. Philip was
about 40 years old when he came to the throne ; being
the son of an obscure Arabian, who had been captain
of a band of robbers. Upon his exaltation, he asso¬
ciated his son, a boy of six years of age, as his partner
in the empire; and, in order to secure his power at
home, made peace with the Persians, and marched his
army towards Rome. On his way, having conceived
a desire to visit his native country of Arabia, he built !|
there a city called Philippopolis; and from thence re¬
turning to Rome, he was received as emperor, and
treated with all the marks of submission, though not
f)l j°y- To put the people in good humour, he caused 40
the secular games to be celebrated, with a magnificence Tlutlj
superior to any of his predecessors, it being just 1000 sari(1,llr
years after the building of the city. Upon occasion of of Rl1
these games, we are told that both Philip and his son
-were converted to Christianity. However this be, a
murderer and an ungrateful usurper does no great ho¬
nour to -whatever opinion he may happen to embrace
We have little account of the latter part of his reign in
the wretched and mutilated histories of the times; we
only learn, that the Goths having invaded the empire,
Marinas, Philip’s lieutenant, who was sent against
them, revolted, and caused himself to be declared em¬
peror. This revolt, however, was but of short dura¬
tion ; for the army which had raised him repented of
their rashness, deposed him with equal levity, and put
him to death. Decius was the person whom Philip
appointed to command in the room of the revolting
general, i he chief merit of Decius with the emperor
was, that when Marinas had rebelled, he averred in the
senate, 1 hat the traitor’s presumption would be very
» shortly
lire.
|j !07
fP! >
jtm cred,
bt: < suc-
tc d by
,D is.
108
r 'er'
0 e, and
|1 d by
f Goths,
409
ceeded
G alius.
ROM [ 235 ] ii o M
shortly his ruin ; v. hich, AVhen it happened accordingly,
Philip appointed hi to succeed in the command of the
rebellious army. Decius, who was a man of great subti¬
lity, being entrusted with so much power, upon arriving
at the army, found that the soldiers w ere resolved on in¬
vesting him with the supreme authority He therefore
seemed to suffer their importunities, as if through con¬
straint ; and. in the mean time, sent Philip word, that
he had unwillingly assumed thetitle of emperor, the bet¬
ter to secure it for t^e rightful possessor ; adding that he
only looked for a convenient opportunity of giving up
his pretensions and title together. Philipknew mankind
too wrell, to rely upon such professions ; he the ref ire got
together what forces he could from the several pro¬
vinces, and led them forward towards the confines of
Italy. However, the army was scarce arrived at Ve¬
rona, when it revolted in favour of Decius, and setting
violently upon Philip, a centinel, with one blow, cut
off his head, or rather cleaved it asunder, separating the
under jaw from the upper. Such was the deserved death
of Philip, in the 45th year of his age, after a reign of
aboutfiveyears; Deciusbeing universaliyacknowledged
as his successor, A. D. 248.
The activity and wisdom of Decius in some measure
stopped the hastening decline of the Roman empire.
The senate seemed to think so highly of his raeTts, that
they voted him not inferior to Trajan ; and indeed he
seemed in every instance to consult their dignity in par¬
ticular, and the welfare of all inferior ranks of people.
He permitted them to choose a censor, as was the cu¬
stom in the flourishing times of Rome; and Valerian,
his general, a man of such strict morals that his life was
said to be a continual censorship, was chosen to thatdig-
nity.— But no virtues could now prevent the approach¬
ing down fall of the state; the obsti a'e disputes between
the Pagans and the Christians wi in the empire, and
the unceasing irruptions of barbarous nations from wi h-
out, enfeebled it beyond the power of a remedy. To
stop these, a persecut on of the Christians, who were now
grown the most numerous body or the people, was im-
politically, not to say urjus 1 begun ; in which thou¬
sands were put to death, ar.d a': the aits of cm ■ ty tried
in vain to lessen their cro wing number. This ner.secu-
tion was succeeded hy c readful devastations from the
Goths, particularly in Thrace and Moesia, whe-e they
hadbeen mostsuccessful. These irr up dons Decius went
to oppo-e in person ; andcoming oan engagement with
them, slew 30,000 of the barbarians in one battle. How¬
ever, being resolved to pursue his victory,he was, by vhe
treachery of Gallus his own general, led into a defile,
where the king of the Goths had secret information to
attack him. In this disadvantageous situation, Decius
first saw his son killed with an arrow, and soon after his
whole army put to the rout Wherefore, resolving not
to survive his loss, he put spurs to his horse, and in¬
stantly plunging into a quagmire, was swallowed up,
and his body could never be found after. He died in
the 50lh year of his age, after a short reign of two
years and six months; leaving the character of an
excellent prince, and one capable of averting the de¬
struction of the empire, if human means could have ef¬
fected it.
Gallus, who had thus betrayed the Roman army,
had address enough to get himself declared emperor by
that part of it which survived the defeat; he was 45
years old when he began to reign, and was descended ft.m-.r.
from an honourable family in Rome. He bought adis- ''■"■v1”''
honourable peace from the enemies of tile state, agree-
ing to pay a considerable annual tribute to the Goths,
whom it was his duty to repress. Having thus pur¬
chased a short remission from war , by the disgrace of
his country, he returned to Rome, to give a loose to
his pleasures, regardless of the wretched situation of
the empire.
Nothing can be moiie deplorable then the state of 410
the Roman provinces at this time. The Goths and Miserable
othce barbarous nations, not satisfied with their late state of the
bribes to continue in peace, broke in upon the eastern emPire>
parts of Europe. On the other side, the Persians and
Scythians committed unheard of ravages in Mesopo¬
tamia and Syria. The emperor, regardless of every
national calamity, was lost in debaucli s:nd sensuality
at home; and the Pagans were allowed a power of
persecuting the Christians through all parts of the
state; these calamities were succeeded by a pestilence,
that seemed to have in general spread over every part
of the earth, and which continued raging for several
years in an unheard of manner; and all these by a
civil war, which followed shortly after, between Gal¬
lus and his general ^Emilianus, who having gained a
victory over the Goths, was proclaimed emperor by his
conquering army. Gallus hearing this, was soon rou¬
sed from the intoxications of pleasure, and prepared to
oppose his dangerous rival. Both armies met in Moe¬
sia, and a battle ensued, in which /Emilianus was
victorious, and Gulins with his son were slain. His
death was merited, and his vices were such as to de¬
serve the detestation of posterity. He died in the 47th
year of his age, after an unhappy reign of two years
and four months, in which the empire suffered inex¬
pressible calamities. ^Emilianus, after his victory over
Gallus, expected to be acknowledged emperor; but
he soon found himself miserably disappointed. The
senate refused to acknowledge his claims ; and an army
tha was stationed near the Alps chose Valerian, their
own commander, to succeed to the throne. In conse¬
quence of this, JEmilianus’s soldiers began to consider
their general as an obstacle to the universal tranquil¬
lity, and slew him in order to avoid the mischiefs of a
civ il war.
Valerian being thus universally acknowledged as
emperor, although arrived at the age of 70, set about
reforming the state w ith a spirit that seemed to mark
a good mind and unabated vigour. But reformation
was then grown almost impracticable. The disputes
between the Pagans and Christians divided the empire
as before; and a dreadful persecution of the latter en¬
sued. The northern nations overran the Roman do¬
minions in a more formidable manner than ever; and
the empire began to be usurped by a multitude,of petty 411
leaders, each of whom, neglecting the general-state, set Valerian
up for himself. To add to these calamities, the Persians, ta^en
under their king Sapor, invaded Syria; and coming cruelb'iu-
into Mesopotamia, took the unfortunate Valerian pri- suited by
soner, as he was making preparations to oppose them. tlie Fer-
Nothing can exceed the indignities, as well as the cruel-
ties, which were practised upon this unhappy monarch,
thus fallen into the hands of his enemies. * Sapor, we
are told, always used him as a footstool for mounting his-
horse; he added the bitterness of ridicule to his insults,
G g 2 md
K O M
[ 236 ]
II 0 M
Rome.
412
The empire
invaded on
all sides by
the barba¬
rians.
413
Monstrous
cruelty of
the new
emperor
(lallienus.
afod usually observed,That an attitude like that to which
Valerian was reduced, was the best statue that could
be erected in honour of his victory. This horrid life of
insult and sufferance continued for seven years, and was
at length terminated by the cruel Persian’s command-
ingTiis prisoner’s eyes to be plucked out, and afterwards
causing him to be flayed alive.
The news of the defeat of the Roman army by the
Persians, and the captivity of Valerian, no sooner
reached the barbarous nations at war with Rome, than
they poured on all sides into the Roman territories in
incredible multitudes, threatening the empire, and
Rome itself, with utter destruction. The Goths and
Scythians ravaged Pontus and Asia, committing every¬
where dreadful devastations ; the Alemanni and Franks
having overrun Rhaetia, advanced as *far as Ravenna ;
putting all to fire and sword; the Quadi and Sarma-
tians seized on great part of Dacia and Pannonia ;
while other barbarous nations, invading Spain, made
themselves masters of Tarraco and other important
places in that province. In the mean time GalHenus,
the son of Valerian, having promised to revenge his
father’s captivity, and repress the barbarians, was cho¬
sen emperor without any opposition. He was at that
time in Gaul; but hastened into Italy, from whence
he drove out the barbarians, either by the terror of
his approach, or by overcoming them in battle.—
In Dacia and Pannonia, also, the barbarians were dri¬
ven back by Regillianus, who commanded there, and
who is said to have gained several victories in one
day.
But in the mean time, one Ingenuus, a man of great
reputation in war, and universally beloved both by the
people and soldiery, caused himself to be proclaimed em¬
peror in Pannonia, where he was generally acknowled¬
ged as well as in Mcesia. Ga'lienus no sooner heard of
his revolt, than he marched from the neighbourhood of
Ravenna, where he then was, into Illyricum, engaged
Ingenuus, and put him to flight. Some authors tell us
that Ingenuus was killed after the battle by his own
soldiers; while others affirm, that he put an end to his
own life to avoid falling into the hands of Gallienus,
who used his victory with a cruelty hardly to be paral¬
leled. The following letter to Verianus Celer, one of
his officers, will show the disposition of this emperor
“ I shall not be satisfied (says he) with your putting
to death only such as have borne arms against me, and
might have fallen in the field: you must in every city
destroy all the males, old and young ; spare none who
have wished ill to me ; none who have spoken ill of me
the son of Valerian, the father and brother of princes.
Ingenuus emperor ! Teal*, kill, cut in pieces without
mercy r you understand me ; do then as you know I
would do, who have written to you with my own hand.”
In consequence of these cruel orders, a most dreadful
havock was made among that unhappy people ; and, in
several cities, not one male child was left alive. The
troops who had formerly served under Ingenuus, and
the inhabitants of Meesia who had escaped the general
slaughter, provoked by these cruelties, proclaimed Re-
gillianus emperor. He was a Dacian by birth, de¬
scended, as was said, from the celebrated king Dece-
balus whom Trajan had conquered; and had, by se¬
veral gallant actions, gained reputation in the Roman
armies. After he was proclaimed emperor, he gained
Rome
great advantages over the Sarmatians ; but was soon
after murdered by his own soldiers. These revolts were
quickly followed by many other -. Indeed it is not sur¬
prising, at a time when the reins of government were
held with so loose a hand, that a crowd of usurpers
should start up in every province of the empire. The
great number of usurpers who pretended to the empire
about this time have been distinguished by the name of r 414
the thirty tyrants. However, there were only 19; viz. thlr
Cyriades, Macrianus, Balista, Udenatu*, and Zenobia tyr‘,nts'
in the east : in Gaul, and the western provinces. Post-
hum us, Lolliaruis, Victorious and his mother Victoria,
Marius, and Tetricus :■ in Illyricum, and on the con¬
fines of the Danube, Ingenuus, Regillianus, and Au-
reolus ; in Poiv.us, Saturninus; in Isauria, Trebellia-
nus; in Thessaly, Pko; in Achaia, Valens; in Egypt,
iEmilianus; and in Africa, Celsus. Several of tliess
pretenders to the empire* however, though branded
with the opprobrious appellation of tyrants, were emi¬
nent examples of virtue, and almost all of them were
possessed or a cons'.derabie share of vigour and ability.
The principal reason assigned for their revolt was, the
infamous character of Galiienus, whom neither officers
nor soldiers could bear to serve. Many of them, how¬
ever, were forced by the soldiers to assume the imperial
dignity much again-t their will. “ You have lost,” said
Saturninus to his soldiers when they invested him with
the purple, “ a very useful commander, and have made
a very wretched emperor.” The apprehensions of Sa¬
turninus were justified by the event. Of the 19 usurpers
already mentioned, not one died a natural death ; and
in Italy and Rome Gallienus alone continued to be ac¬
knowledged emperor. That prince indeed honoured
Odenatus prince of Palmyra with the title of Augustus,
who continuedto possess an independent sovereignty in
the east all his lifetime, and on his death transmitted
it to his wife Zenobia. See Palmyra. ^
The consequences of thesenumeroususurpations were Fatalcoi
the most fatal that can be conceived. The elections of quences
these precarious emperors, their life and death, were these usi
equally destructive to their subjects and adherents. The P^015*-
price of their elevation was instantly paid to the troops
by an immense donative drawn from the exhausted peo¬
ple. However virtuous th^ir character, and however
pure their intentions might be, they found themselves
reduced to the necessity of supporting their usurpation
by frequent acts of rapine and cruelty. When they
fell, they involved armies and provinces in their fall,
as appears from the letter of Gallienus already quoted.
WRilst the forces of the state were dispersed in private
quarrels, the defenceless provinces lay exposed to every
invader. The bravest usurpers were compelled, by the
perplexity of their situation, to conclude dishonourable
treaties with the barbarians, and even to submit to
shameful tributes, and introduce such numbers of bar¬
barians into the Roman service as seemed sufficient at
once to overthrow the empire. m
But when the empire seemed thus ready to sink at Gallien
once, it suddenly revived on the death of Gallienus, who mur(?er
was murdered by Martian, one of his own generals,
while he besieged Aureolus, one of the tyrants, in Mi- ciaiidi
lan. His death gave general satisfaction to all, except
his soldiers, who hoped to reap the reward of their trea¬
chery by the plunder of Milan. But being frustrated
in these expectations, and in some measure kept within
bounds
II O M [ ^.57 J Li U M
tome, bounds by tie largesses of Martian, Flavius Claudius
was nominated to succeed, and joyfully accepted by all
orders of the state, and his title confirmed by the senate
and the people.
We are not sufficiently assured of this emperor’s li¬
neage and country. Some affirm that he was horn in
Dalmatia, and descended from an ancient family there ;
others assert that he was a Trojan; and others, that he
was son to the emperor Gordian. But, whatever might
have been his descent, his merits were by no means
doubtful. He was a man of great valour and conduct,
having performed the most eminent services against the
Goths, who had long continued to make irruptions in¬
to the empire. He was now about 55 years old, equal¬
ly remarkable for the strength of his body and the vi¬
gour of his mind ; he was chaste and temperate, a re¬
warder of the good, and a severe punisher of such as
transgressed the laws. Thus endowed, therefore, he in
some measure put a stop to the precipitate de cline of the
empire, and once more seemed to restore the glory of
417 Rome.
°the" success> upon being made emperor, was
ths, and against Aureolus, whom he defeated near Milan. His
ieves next expedition was to oppose the Goths, against whom
affairs he led a very numerous army. These barbarians had
heen> tilejr principal and most successful irruptions into
Thrace and Macedonia, swarmed over all Greece, and
had pillaged the famous city of Athens, which had long
been the school of all the polite arts to the Romans.
The Goths, however, had no veneration for those em¬
bellishments that tend to soften and humanize the mind,
but destroyed ail monuments of taste and learning with
the most savage alacrity. It was upon one of these oc¬
casions, that, having heaped together a large pile of
books in order to burn them, one of the commanders
dissuaded them from the design, alleging, that the time
which the Grecians should waste on books would only
render them more unqualified for war. But the empire
seemed to tremble, not only on that side, but almost on
every quarter. At the same time, above 300,000 of
these barbarians (the Heruli, the Trutangi, the Virtur-
gi, and many nameless and uncivilized nations) came
down the river Danube, with 2000 ships, fraught with
men and ammunition, spreading terror and devastation
on every side.
In this state of universal dismay, Claudius alone seem¬
ed to continue unshaken. He marched his dispropor-
tioned army against the savage invaders ; and though
but ill prepared for such an engagement, as the forces
of the empire were then employed in different parts of
the world, he came off victorious, and made an incredi¬
ble slaughter of the enemy. The whole of their great
army was either cut to pieces or taken prisoners : houses
were filled with their arms; and scarce a province of the
empire, that was not furnished with slaves from those
that survived the defeat. The successes were followed
by many others in different parts of the empire ; so that
the Goths, for a considerable time after, made but a
feeble opposition. He some time after, marched against
the revolted Germans, and overthrew them with consi-
udius ^8rable slaughter. His last expedition was to oppose
an,i Tetricus and Zenobia, his two puissant rivals in the em-
>=eee<l- phe. Baton his march, as he approached near Sirmi-
]’ Aure- um, in Pannonia, he was seized with a pestilential fe¬
ver, of which he died in a few days, to the great regret
of his subjects, and the irreparable loss of the Roman Rome,
empire. His reign, which was not of quite two years
continuance, was active and successful; and such is
the character given of him by historians, that he is
said to have united in himself the moderation of Au¬
gustus, the valour of Trajan, and the piety of Antoni¬
nus.
Immediately after the death of Claudius, the army
made unanimous choice of Aurelian, who was at that
time master of the horse, and esteemed the most valiant
commander of his time. However, his promotion was
not without opposition on the part of the senate, as
Quintillus, the brother of the deceased emperor, put in
his claim, and was for a while acknowledged at Rome.
But his authority was of very short duration : for find¬
ing himself abandoned by those who at first instigated
him to declare for the throne, he chose to prevent the
seventy of his rival by a voluntary death, and causing
his veins to be opened, expired, after having reigned
but 17 days.
Aurelian being thus universally acknowledged by
all the states of the empire, assumed the command,
with a greater show of power than his predecessors had
enjoyed for some time before. This active monarch was
born of mean and obscure parentage in Dacia, and was
about 55 years old at the time of his coming to the
throne. He had spent the early part of his life in the
army, and had risen through all the gradations of mi¬
litary duty. He was of unshaken courage and ama¬
zing strength ; he in one engagement killed 40 of the
enemy with his own hand, and above 900 at several dif¬
ferent times. In short, his valour and expedition were
such, that he was compared to Julius Caesar; and in
fact, only wanted mildness and clemency to be every
way his equal. 419
The whole of this monarch’s reign was spent in re- great
pressing the irruptions of the northern nations, in hum- sucfe&s
bling every other pretender to the empire, and punish- SSats!
ing the monstrous irregularities of his own subjects. He
defeated Jhe Mareomanni, who had invaded Italy, in
threeseveral engagements, and at length totally destroy¬
ed their army. He was not less successful against Ze¬
nobia, the queen of the East, a woman of the most he¬
roic qualifications, who had long disclaimed the Roman
power, and established an empire of her own, as is rela¬
ted under the article Palmyka.
Aurelian having thus brought back peace to the
empire, endeavoured, by the rigours of justice, to bring
back virtue also. He was very strict in punishing the
crimes of the soldiery : in his orders to his lieutenants,
he insisted that the peasants should not bepluudered up¬
on any pretences; that not even a grape, a grain of
salt, or a drop of oil, should be exacted unjustly. He
caused a soldier, who had committed adultery with his
hostess, to have his feet tied to the tops of two trees,
forcibly bent at top to meet each other; which being
let loose, and suddenly recoiling, tore the criminal in
two. This was a severity that might take the name of
cruelty ; but the vices of the age, in some measure, re¬
quired it. In these punishments inflicted on the guilty,
the Chustians, who had all along been growing more
numeious, weie shaiers. Against these he drew up se¬
veral letters and edicts, which showed that he intended
a very severe persecution ; but if we may believe the
credulous historians of the times, he was diverted just as
he
Ttams.
420
He is mur¬
dered.
421
Tacitus
chosen em ¬
peror.
422
Ihi death.
II O M [ X35 j K O M
Tie was oo'n^ to sign them by a thunderbolt, which Fell
so near his person, that all the people judged him to be
destroyed.
But, however Heaven might have interposed on this
occasion, it is certain that his severities at last were the
cause of his destruction. Menesthus, his principal se¬
cretary, having been threatened by him for some fault
which he had committed, began to consider how he
might prevent the meditated blow. For this purpo-e,
he forged a roll of the names of several persons, whom
he pretended the emperor had marked out for death,
adding his own to strengthen him in the confidence of
the party. The scroll thus contrived was shown with
an air of the utmost secrecy to some of the persons con¬
cerned ; and they, to procure their safety, immediately
agreed with him to destroy the emperor. This resolu¬
tion was soon put in execution; for, as the emperor pas¬
sed with a small guard fromUraclea, in Thrace, towards
Byzantium, the conspirators set upon him at once, and
slew him with very small resistance. He was slain in the
COth, or, as some say, in the 63d year of his age, after
a very active reign of almost five years.
The number of pretenders to the throne, which had
formerly infested the empire, were, by thelastmonarch’s
activity, so entirely removed, that there now seemed to
be none that would venture to declare himself a candi¬
date. The army referred the choice to the senate ; and,
on the other side, the senate declined it; so that a space
of near eight months elapsed in these negotiations. At
length, however, the senate made choice of Tacitus, a
man of great merit, and noway ambitious of the ho¬
nours that were offered him. Upon being solicited to
accept the empire, he at first refused, and retired to
his country house in Campania, to avoid their importu¬
nities ; but being at length prevailed upon, he accepted
tire reins of government, being at that time 75 years
old.
One of the first acts of his government was the pu¬
nishment ol those who had conspired against the late
emperor. Menesthus was impaled alive, his body be¬
ing thrown to be devoured by wild beasts : his estate
also was confiscated to the exchequer; and his ready
money, which was very considerable, applied towards
paying the army. During this short reign, the senate
seemed to have a large share of authority, and the hi¬
storians of the times are liberal of their praises to such
emperors as were thus willing to divide their power.—
Upon endeavouring to obtain the consulship for his bro¬
ther Probus, he was refused it by tire senate: at which
he seemed no way moved, but calmly remarked that
the senate best knew whom to choose. This modera¬
tion prevailed in all the rest of his conduct: he was ex-
tremeiy temperate; his table was plain, and furnished
with nothing expensive: heeven prohibited his empress
from wearing jewels, and forbade the use of gold and
embroidery. He was fond of learning, and the me¬
mory of such men as had deserved well of their coun¬
try. He particularly esteemed the works of his name¬
sake Tacitus thehistorian; commanding that they should
be placed in every public library throughout the em¬
pire, and that many copies of them should be transcribed
at the public charge. A reign begun with such mo¬
deration and justice, only wanted continuance to have
ma !e the empire happy ; but after enjoying the empire
about six months, he died of a fever in his march to op¬
pose the Persians and Scythians, who had invaded the I!o!»|
eastern parts of the empire. WV
Upon the death of Tacitus the army seemed divided
in the choice of an emperor ; one part of it chose Flo-
rianus, brother to the deceased; but the majority were
for some time undetermined. They alleged amongst
each other the necessity of choosing one eminent for va¬
lour, honour, piety, clemency, and probity ; but the last
virtue being that chiefly insisted upon, the whole army,
as if by common consent, cried out that Probus should
be emperor. He was accordingly confirmed in this dig¬
nity with the usual solemnities : and Florianus finding
himself deserted, even by those legions whohad promis¬
ed to stand up in his support, opened his arteries and
bled himself to death, Probu-
Probus was 44 years old, when he ascended the sed t0
throne, being born of noble parentage at Sirmium in empire
Pannonia, and bred up a soldier from his youth. He
began early to distinguish himself for his discipline and
valour ; being frequently the firstman who in besieging
towns scaled the walls, or that burst into the enemy’s
camp. He was no less remarkable for single combats,
and saving the lives of many eminent citizens. Nor
was his activity and courage, when elected to the em¬
pire, less apparent, than in his private station. He first
repressed the Germansin Gaul, of whomhe slew 400,000.
He then marched into Dalmatia, to oppose and subdue
the Sarmatians. From thence he led his forces into
Thrace, and forced the Goths to sue for peace. He af- j.j;s c'0
ter that turned his arms towards Asia; subdued the quests,
province of Dauria ; and marching onward, conquered
a people called the Blemyes ; who, leaving their native
forests of Ethiopia, had possessed themselves of Arabia
and.Judea, and had continued ina state of rebellion since
the reign of Gallienus. Narses also, the king of Persia,
submitted at his approach : and upon his return into
Europe, he divided the depopulated parts of Thrace
among its barbarous invaders: a circumstance that af¬
terwards produced great calamities to the empire.
His diligence was not less conspicuous in suppressing
intestine commotions. Saturninus, being compelled by
the Egyptians to declare himself emperor, was defeated
and slain. Proculus also (a person remarkable only for
his great attachment to women, and who boasted in a
letter, that having taken 100 Sarmatian virgins priso¬
ners, he deprived ten of that name in one night, and all
the rest within a fortnight) set up against the emperor;
but was compelled to fly, and at length delivered up by
the Germans. At the same time Bonosus (wEo was a
remarkable votary to Bacchus, being able to drink as
much wine as ten could do, without being disordered)
rebelled, and being overcome hanged himself in despair.
Probus, when he saw him immedia ely aOe* his death,
could not avoid pointing to him, and saying, “ There
hangs not a man but a cask.” Still, however, not¬
withstanding every effort to give quiet to the empire,
the barbarians who surrounded it kt-pt it in continual
alarms. They were frequently repulsed into their na¬
tive wilds, bat they as certainly returned with fedirage
and increased ferocity. The Goths and Vanda's, find¬
ing the emperor engaged in quelling domestic disputes,
renewed their accustomed inroads, and once more felt
the punishment of their presumptions. They were con¬
quered in several engagements, and Probus returned in
triumph to Rome. His active temper, however, would
mnc.
l
^ !?j5
J urder
f !26
; r ni of
f is, Ca-
i s and
p aeria-
427
'desian
ed to
ena-
It O M [ 230 ] It O M
not suffer liim to continue at rest whilst a single enemy
was left to conquer. In his last expedition he led his
soldiers against the Persians; and going through Sir-
mium, the place of his nativity, he there employed se¬
veral thousands of his soldiers in draining a fen that was
incommodious to the inhabitants. The fatigues of this
undertaking, and the great restraint that was laid upon
the soldiers licentious manners, produced a conspiracy,
which ended in his ruin : for taking the opportunity as
he was marching into Greece, they set upon and slew
him after he had reigned six years and four months
with general approbation.
Cams, who was praetorian prefect to the deceased
emperor, was chosen by the army to succeed him; and
he, to strengthen his authority, named his two sons
Carinus and Numerianus with him in command; the
former of whom was as much sullied by his vices, as
the youngest was virtuous, modest, and courageous.
The new emperor had scarce time to punish the mur¬
derers of the late monarch, when he wras alarmed by a
fresh irruption of the Sarmatians ; over whom he gain¬
ed a signal victory. The Persian monarch also made
some attempts upon the empire ; but Cams assured his
ambassadors, fh it if their master persisted in his obstina¬
cy, all his fields should shortly be as bare as his own
bald head, which he showed them. In consequence of
this threat, he marched to the very wralls of Ctesiphon,
and a dreadful battle ensuing, he once more gained a
complete victory. What the result of this success
might have been, is not known ; for he was shortly af¬
ter struck by lightning in his tent, with many others
that were round him. Numerianus, the youngest son,
who accompanied his father in this expedition, was in¬
consolable for his death ; and brought such a disorder
upon his eyes with wreeping, that he was obliged to be
carried along with the army, shut up in a close litter.
The peculiarity of his situation, after some time, excited
the ambition of Apei’, his father-in-law, who supposed
that he could nowr, without any great danger, aim at the
empire himself. He therefore hired a mercenary villain
to murder the emperor in his litter; and the better to
conceal the fact, gave out that he was still alive, but
unable to endure the light. In this manner was the
dead body carried about for some days, Aper continuing
to attend it with the utmost appearance of respect, and
to take orders as usual. The offensiveness, however, of
its smell at length discovered the treachery, and excited
an universal uproar throughout the army. In the midst
of this tumult, Dioclesian, one of the most noted com¬
manders of his time, was chosen emperor, and with his
own hand slevr Aper; having thus, as it is said, fulfilled
a prophecy, which had said, that Dioclesian should be
emperor after he had slain a boar; alluding to the name
of his rival, wdiich signifies a boar. Carinus, the re¬
maining son, did not long survive his hither and brother;
for giving himself up to his vices, and yet at the same
time opposing the new-made emperor, the competitors
led their forces into Mcesia; where Dioclesian being
victorious, Carinus was slain by a tribune of his own
army, whosa wife he had formerly abused.
Dioclesian was a person of mean birth; being ac¬
counted, according to some, the son of a scrivener ; and
of a slave, according to others. He received his name
from Dioclea, the town in which he was born ; and was
about 40 years old when lie was elected to the empire, hwi.r.
He pardoned all who had joined Carinus, without in-
juring either their fortunes or honours. Conscious also
that the weight of empire was too heavy for one alone
to sustain, he took in Maximian, his general, as a part¬
ner in the fatigues of duty, making him his equal and
companion on the throne. Thus mutually assisting each Takrs ATa-
other, these two continued to live in strict friendship; ximian for
and though somewhat differing in temper (as Maximian llls Partne).
was rather a man of vicious inclinations), yet they con¬
curred in promoting the general good, and humbling
their enemies. And it must be observed, that there ne¬
ver was a period in which there were more numerous
or formidable enemies to oppose. 429
The peasants and labourers in Gaul made a danger- ^nsurr^^
ous insurrection, under the conduct of Amandus and ot]-,^.’
Helianus. but were subdued by Maximian. Achilleus, mities.
who commanded in Egypt, proclaimed himself empe¬
ror ; and it was not without many bloody engagements
that he was overcome, and condemned by Dioclesian
to be devoured by lions. In Africa, the Roman legions,
in like manner, joined with many of the natives, seized
upon the public revenues, and plundered those who con¬
tinued in their duty. These were also subdued by Maxi¬
mian ; and, after a long dubious war, constrained to sue
for peace. About the same time, a principal comman¬
der in Britain named Curnusius, proclaimed himself em¬
peror and possessed himself of the island. To oppose this
general’s claims, Maximian made choice of Constantins
Chlorus, whom he created Caesar, and married to The¬
odora, his daughter-in-law. He, upon his arrival in
Britain, finding Carausius very strong, and continually
reinforced from Germany, thought proper to come to
an accommodation ; so that this usurper continued for
seven years in quiet possession of the whole island, till
he was slain by Alectus, bis friend and intimate. About
this time also, Narses, king of Persia, began a danger¬
ous war upon the empire, and invaded Mesopotamia.
To stop the progress of the enemy upon this quarter,
Dioclesian made choice of Galerius (surnamed Armen-
iarii/s, from the report of his being born of a cow-herd
in Dacia); and he likewise was created Caesar. His
success also, though very doubtful in the beginning,
was in the end terminated according to his wishes. The
Persians were overcome in a decisive engagement, their
camp plundered and taken, and then- king’s wives and
children made prisoners of war. There only remained,
of all the enemies of the Roman empire, those Avho lay
to the northward unsubdued. These were utterly un¬
conquerable, as well upon account of their savage fierce¬
ness, as the inhospitable severity of the climate and
soil from whence they issued. Ever at war with the
Romans, they issued forth, when the armies that were
to repress their invasions wrere called away; and upon
their return, they as suddenly withdrew into cold, bar¬
ren, and inaccessible places, which only themselves
could endure. In this manner the Goths, Sarmatians,
Alani, Quadi, &c. poured down in incredible num¬
bers ; while every defeat seemed but to increase their
strength and perseverance. Of these, multitudes were
taken prisoners, and sent to people the more southern
parts of the empire ; still greater numbers were destroy-
e;1; and though the rest were driven back to their na¬
tive forests, yet they continued ever mindful of their
inveterate
ItOTHC.
430
The Chri¬
stians era jh
lv persecu¬
ted.
An
Dioclesian
and Maxi-
miian re¬
sign.
432
Constan-
tius Chlo-
rus, and
Valerius.
II 0 M [ 240 ] 11 0 M
inveterate smiiity, and, like a savage beast, only conti¬
nued inactive, till they had licked their wounds for a
new encounter.
During this interval, as if the external miseries of the
empire were not sufficient, the tenth and last great per¬
secution was renewed against the Christians. This is
said to have exceeded all the former in severity : and
such was the zeal with which it was pursued, that, in
an ancient inscription, we are in ormed that they had
effaced the name and superstition of the Christians, and
had restored and propagated the worship of the gods.
Their attempts, however, were but the malicious efforts
of an expiring party: for Christianity shortly after was
established by law, and triumphed over the malice of all
its enemies. In the midst of the troubles raised by this
persecution, and of the contests that struck at the in¬
ternal parts of the state, Dioclesian and Maximum sur¬
prised the world by resigning their dignities on the same
day, and both retiring into private stations. Historians
are much divided concerning the motives that thus in¬
duced them to give up those honours which they had
purchased with so much danger. Some ascribe it to
the philosophical turn of Dioclesian; and others, to
his being disgusted with the obstinacy of his Christian
subjects: but Lactantius asserts, that he was compelled
to it, together with his partner, by Galerius, who co¬
ming to Nicomedia, upon the emperor’s recovery from
a great sickness, threatened him with a civil war in case
he refused to resign. However, of this w e are well as¬
sured, that he still preserved a dignity of sentiment in
his retirement, that might induce us to believe he had
no other motive for resignation than the love of quiet,
and the consciousness of his inability to discharge on a
sick-bed the duties of a sovereign. Having retired to his
birth-place, he spent his time in cultivating his garden,
assuring his visitors that then only he began to enjoy the
world, when he was thought by the rest of mankind to
forsake it. When also some attempted to persuade him
to resume the empire, he replied, That if they knew his
present happiness, they would rather endeavour to imi¬
tate than disturb it. In this contented manner he lived
some time, and at last died either by poison or madness,
it is uncertain which. His reign, which continued 20
years, wras active and useful; and his authority, tinc¬
tured w ith severity, was well adapted to the depraved
state of morals at that time.
Maximian, his partner in the empire and in resigna¬
tion, wras by no means so contented with his situation.
He longed once more for power, and disturbed the two
succeeding reigns with various efforts to resume it; at¬
tempting to engage Dioclesian in the same design.
Being obliged to leave Rome, where he had bred great
confusion, he went over into Gaul, where he was kind¬
ly received by Constantine, the then acknowledged em¬
peror of the west. But here also continuing his in¬
trigues, and endeavouring to force his own daughter
and destroy her husband,he was detected, and condemn¬
ed to die by whatever death he should think proper;
and Lactantius tells us that he chose hanging.
Upon the resignation of the two emperors, the twm
Caesars whom they had formerly chosen were universal¬
ly acknowledged as their successors. Constantius ( hio-
rus, who -was so called from the plainness of his com¬
plexion, was virtuous, valiant, and merciful. Galerius,
vn the other hand, was bruve, but brutal, incontinent.
and cruel. As there was such a disparity in their tern- noire,
pers, they readily agreed, upon coming into full power,
to divide the empire ; Constantius being appointed to
govern the western parts ; namely, Italy, Sicily, the
greatest part of Africa, together w ith Spain, Gaul, Bri¬
tain, and Germany ; Galerius had the eastern parts al¬
lotted to his share; to wit, Illyricum, Pannonia, Thrace,
Tvlaccdon, all the provinces of Greece, and the l esser
Asia, together with Egypt, Syria, Judea, and all the
countries eastward. The greatness of the division, how¬
ever, soon induced the emperors to take in two partners
more, Severus and Maximin, who were made Caesars,
and assisted in the conducting of affairs ; so that the em¬
pire now was under the guidance of four persons, all
invested with supreme authority.
We are informed but of few particulars of the reign
of Constantius, except a detail of his character, which
appears in every light most amiable. He was frugal,
chaste, and temperate. His mercy and justice were
equally conspicuous in his treatment of the Christians,
whom he would not suffer to be injured; and when at
length persuaded to displace all the Christian officers of
his household thatwould notchange their religion, w hen
some of them complied, he sent them aw'ay in disgrace ;
alleging, that those who wrere not true to their God,
would never be faithful to their prince.
In the second year of his reign he went over into
Britain; and leaving his son Constantine as a kind of
hostage in the court of his partner in the empire, took
up his residence at York. He there continued in the
practice of his usual virtues; till falling sick, he began
to think of appointing his son for his successor. He
accordingly sent for him with all speed ; but he was past
recovery before his arrival: notwithstanding he re¬
ceived him with marks of the utmost affection, and rais¬
ing himself in his bed, gave him several useful instruc¬
tions, particularly recommending the Christians to his
protection. He then bequeathed the empire to his care;
and crying out, that none but the pious Constantine
should succeed him, he expired in his a' ms.
In the mean time. Galerius, his partner in the em¬
pire, being informed of Constantine’s advancement, testi¬
fied the most ungovernable rage, and w^as even going to
condemn the messenger w ho brought him the account:
but being dissuaded, beseemed to acquiesce in what he
could not prevent, and sent him the marks of royalty ;
but at the same time declared Seven is emperor, in op¬
position to his interests. Just about tins time also, ano¬
ther pretender to the empire started up. This was
Maxentius, a person of mean extraction ; but very much _ th
favoured by the soldiers, whom he permitted to pillage throne,
at discretion. In order to oppose Maxentius, Severus
led a numerous army towards the gates of Rome ; but
his soldiers considering against whom they were to
fight, immediately abandoned him; and shortly after
he put an end to his own life, by opening his veins.
To revenge his death, Galerius marched into Italy, re¬
solving to ruin the inhabitants, and to destroy the whole
senate. His soldiers, however, upon approaching the
capital, began to waver in their resolutions : wherefore
he was obliged to have recourse to intreaties, imploring
them not to abai don him ; and, retiring by the same
route by which lie had advanced, made Licinius, who
was originally the fon of a poor labourer in Dacia, Cae¬
sar, in the room of Stverus who was sLin. This seem¬
ed
4S3
Maxell tiul
kome.
434
Dreadful
death of
Galerius.
435
Constan¬
tine’s vi¬
sion and
conversion
to Christi¬
anity.
ROM [241 ] ft O M
ed to be the la?t set of his power ; for shortly after he
was seized with a very extraordinary disorder in his
privities, which baffled all the skill of his physicians,
and earned him off, after he had languished in torments
for near the space of a year. His cruelty to the Chri¬
stians was one of the many crimes alleged against him ;
and their historians have not failed to aggravate the cir¬
cumstances of his death as a judgment from Heaven
for his former impiety. However this be, he abated
much of his severities against them on his deathbed ;
and revoked those edicts which he had formerly pub¬
lished, tending to their persecution, a little before his
death.
Constantine being thus delivered from bis greatest
opponent, might now he considered as possessing more
power than any of his rivals who were yet remaining.
The empire was at that time divided between him and
three others: Maxentius, vdio governed in Rome, a
person of a cruel disposition, and a stedfast supporter of
paganism j I.icinius, who was adopted by Galerius, and
commanded in the east ; and likewise Maximin, who
had formerly been declared Caesar with Sever us, and
who also governed some of the eastern provinces.
For some time all things seemed to wear a peaceful
appearance ; till at length, either ambition, or the ty¬
rannical conduct of Maxentius, induced Constantine to
engage in an expedition to expel that commander from
Rome, and to make the proper preparations for march¬
ing into Italy. It was upon this occasion that he form¬
ed a resolution which produced a mighty change in the
politics as well as the morals of mankind, and gave a
new turn to the counsels of the wise, and the pursuits
of ambition. One evening, as we are told by Eusebius,
the army being upon its march toward Rome, Con¬
stantine was taken up with various considerations upon
the fate of sublunary things, and the dangers of his ap¬
proaching expedition : sensible of his own incapacity
to succeed without divine assistance, he employed his
meditations upon the opinions that then weie chiefly
agitated arming mankind, and sent up his ejaculations
to Heaven to inspire him with wisdom to choose the
path he ouffht to pursue. It was then, as the sun was
declining, that there suddenly appeared a pillar of light
in the heavens, in the form of a cross, with this in¬
scription, TOTTfl NIKH, “ In this overcome.” So ex¬
traordinary an appearance did not fail to cieate asto¬
nishment both in the emperor and his whole army, who
considered it as their dispositions led them to believe.
Those who were attached to paganism, prompted by
tlicir auspices, pronounced it a most inauspicious omen,
portending the most unfortunate events. But it made
a different impression on the emperor’s mind ; who, as
the account goes, was farther encouraged by visions the
same night. He therefore, the day following, caused a
royal standard to be made, like that which he had seen
in the heavens i and commanded it to be cariied befoie
him in his wars, as an ensign of victory and celestial
protection. After this, he consulted with several of the
principal teachers of Christianity, and made a public
avowal of that sacred persuasion.
Constantine having thus attached to his interest his
soldiers, who were mostly of the Christian persuasion,
lost no’ time in entering Italy with 90,000 foot and
8000 horse ; and soon advanced to the very gates of
Rome. The unfortunate Maxentius, who had longgi-
Vol XVIIL Part I.
ven himself up to ease and debauchery, now be<ran to
make preparations when it was too late. He first put
in practice all the superstitious rites which paganism „
taught to be necessary ; and then consulted the Sibyl- fi^ ated US
line books ; from whence he was informed, that on that and kill-
great day the enemy of Rome should perish. This pre- ed.
diction, which was equivocal, he applied to Constan¬
tine ; so that, leaving all things in the best posture, he
advanced from the city with an army of 100,000 foot
and 18,000 horse. The engagement was for some time
fierce and bloody, till his cavalry being routed, victory
declared upon the side of his opponent, and he himself
was drowned in his flight by the breaking down of a
bridge as he attempted to cross the river Tiber.
Constantine, in consequence of this victory, entering
the city, disclaimed all praises which the senate and
people were ready to offer; ascribing his success to a
superior power. He even caused the cross, which it
is said lie saw in the heavens, to be placed at the right
of all his statues, with this inscription : “ That under
the influence of that victorious cross, Constantine had
delivered the city from the yoke of tyrannical power,
and had restored the senate and people of Rome to
their ancient authority.” He afterwards ordained, that
no criminal should for the future suffer death by the
cross; which had formerly been the mo?t usual way of
punishing slaves convicted of capital offences. Edicts
were soon after issued, declaring that the Christians
should be eased from all their grievances, and received
into places of trust and authority. Thus the new reli¬
gion was seen at once to prevail over the whole Roman
empire ; and as that enormous fabric had been built and
guided upon pagan principles, it lost a great deal of its
strength and coherence when those principles were thus
at once subverted.
Thii igs continued in this state for some time, Con¬
stantine all the whilecontributing what was in his power
to the interest of religion, and the revival of learning,
which liad long been upon the decline, and was almost
wholly extinct in the empire. But in the midst of these
assiduities, the peace of the empire was again disturbed
by the preparations of Maximin, who governed in the
east, and who, desirous of a full participation of power,
marched against Licinius with a very numerous army. 437
In consequence of this step, after many conflicts, a ge- Maxirain’*
neral engagement ensued, in which Maximin suffered a ani
total defeat; many of his troops were cut in pieces, and ^ ''
those that survived submitted to the conqueror. Maxi¬
min, however, having escaped the general carnage, once
more put himself at the head of another army,'resolving
to try the fortune of the field ; but death prevented his
design. As he died by a very extraordinary kind of
madness, the Christians, of whom he was the declared
enemy, did not fail to ascribe his end to a judgment
from heaven ; but this was the age in which false judge¬
ments and false miracles made up the bulk of their mi-
instructive history.
Constantine and Licinius thus remaining undisputed tween ^Con-
possessors and partners in the empire, all things promi- stantine and
sed a peaceable continuance of friendship and power. Licinius.
However, it was soon found, that the same ambition
that aimed after a part, would be content with nothing
less than the whole. Pagan writers ascribe the rupture
between these two potentates to Constantine; while
the Christians, on the other hand, impute it wholly to
+ H h Licinius.
ROM [ %42 ] R O M
Jlonie- Licinius. Both, perhaps, might have concurred: for
''•“■’’Y’*'' Licinius is convicted of having persecuted Christianity,
which was so highly favoured by his rival; and Con¬
stantine is known to have been the first to begin the
preparations for an open rupture. Both sides exerted
all their power to make opposition; and at the head
of very formidable armies, came to an engagement near
Cybalis, in Pannonia. Constantine, previous to the
battle, in the midst of his Christian bishops, begged the
assistance of heaven ; while Licinius, with equal zeal,
called upon the pagan priests to intercede with the gods
in his favour. Constantine, alter an obstinate resistance
from the enemy, became victorious ; took their camp ;
and after some time, compelled Licinius to sue for a
truce, which was agreed upon. But this was of no long
continuance; for soon after, the war breaking out a-
fresh, and the rivals coming once more to a general en-
439 gagement, it proved decisive. Licinius wras entirely de-
Licinius feated and pursued by Constantine into Nicomedia,
overcome where he surrendered himself up to the victor : having
and put to first obtained an oath that his life should be spared, and
death. that he should be permitted to pass the remainder of his
days in retirement. This, however, Constantine short¬
ly after broke ; for either fearing his designs, or find¬
ing him actually engaged in fresh conspiracies, he com¬
manded him to be put to death, together with Martian
his general, who some time before had been created
Caesar.
Constantine being now sole monarch of the empire,
without a rival to divide his power, or any person from
whose claims he could have the least apprehensions, re¬
solved to establish Christianity on so sure a basis, that no
new regulations should shake it. He commanded that
in all the provinces of the empire the orders of the bi¬
shops should be exactly obeyed ; a privilege of which,
in succeeding times, these fathers made but a very indif¬
ferent use. He called also a general council of these, to
meet at Nicea, in order to repress the heresies that had
already crept into the church, particularly that of Arius.
To this place repaired about 318 bishops, besides a mul¬
titude of presbyters and deacons, together with the em¬
peror himself; who all, to about 17, concurred in con¬
demning the tenets of Arius ; who, with his associates,
was banished into a remote part of the empire.
Having thus restored universal tranquillity to the
4o 4 empire, he was not able to ward off calamities of a
(onstari- more domestic nature. As the histories of that neriod
his wife ai’e entireiy at variance with eacn other, it is not easy to
and son to discover tae motives which induced him to put his wife
death. Fausta and his son Crispus to death. The most plau¬
sible account is this: Fausta the empress, who was a
woman of great beauty, but of extravagant desires, had
long, though secretly, loved Crispus, Constantine’s son
by a former wife. She had tried every art to inspire
this youth with a mutual passion ; but, finding her more
distant efforts ineffectual, had even the confidence to
make him an open confession of her desires. This pro¬
duced an explanation, which was fatal to both. Cris¬
pus received her addresses with detestation; and she to
be revenged, accused him to the emperor. Constantine,
fired at once with jealousy and rage, ordered him to die
without a hearing; nor did his innocence appear till it
was too late for redress. The only reparation, there¬
fore, that remained, was the putting Fausta, the wicked
instrument of his fonner cruelty, to death; which was
accordingly executed upon her, together with some Rome,
others who had been accomplices in her falsehood and -yW
treachery.
But the private misfortunes of a few' w'ere not to be
weighed against evils of a more general nature, which
the Roman empire shortly after experienced. These Transfers
arose from a measure which this emperor conceived and the seat of
executed, of transferring the seat of the empire from empire to
Rome to Byzantium, or Constantinople, as it was after- Constanti.
wards called. Whatever might have been the reasons ncpl8’
which induced him to this undertaking; whether it
was because he wras offended at some affronts he recei«
ved at Rome, or that he supposed Constantinople more
in the centre of the empire, or that he thought the east¬
ern parts more required his presence, experience has
shown that they were wreak and groundless. The em¬
pire had long before been in the most declining state ;
but this in a great measure gave precipitation to its
downfall. After this it never resumed its former splen¬
dour, but languished.
His first design was to build a city which he might
make the capital of the w orld ; and for this purpose,
he made choice of a situation at Chalcedon in Asia Mi¬
nor ; but we are told, that in laying out the ground-
plan, an eagle caught up the line and flew with it over
to Byzantium, a city which lay upon the opposite side
of the Bosphorus. Flere, therefore, it was thought ex¬
pedient to fix the seat of the empire; and indeed nature
seems to have formed it with all the conveniences and
all the beauties which might induce power to make it
the seat of residence. It was situated on a plain that
rose gently from the water ; it commanded that strait
which unites the Mediterranean with the Euxine sea,
and was furnished with all the advantages which the
most indulgent climate could bestow. This city, there¬
fore, he beautified with the most magnificent edifices ;
he divided it into 14 regions; built acapitol, an amphil
theatre, many churches, and other public works ; and
having thus .rendered it equal to the magnificence of his
idea, he dedicated it in a very solemn manner to the
God of martyrs; in about two years after, repairing
thither with his whole court.
d he removal produced no immediate alteration in
the government of the empire; the inhabitants of Rome,
though with reluctance, submitted to the change; nor
was there for tw o or three years any disturbance in the
state, until at length the Goths, finding that the Ro¬
mans had withdrawn all their garrisons along the Da¬
nube, renewed their inroads, and ravaged the country
with unheard of cruelty. Constantine, however, soon
i epiessed their incursions, and so straitened them, that
near 100,000 of their number perished by cold and
hunger. Ihese and some other insurrections being hap¬
pily suppressed, the government of the empire w as di¬
vided as follows. Constantine, the emperor’s eldest son
commanded in Gaul and the western provinces; Con¬
stant] us governed Africa and Ulyricum ; and Constans
nned m Italy. Dalmatius, the emperor’s brother, wa*
sent to def end those parts that bordered upon the Goths -
and Anmbalianus, his nephew had the charge of Cap¬
padocia and Armenia Minor. This division of the em¬
pire still farther contributed to its downfall: for the
united strength of the state being no longer brought to
icpress invasions, the barbarians fought with superior
numbers; and conquered at last, though often defeated.
Constantine,
It 0 M
[ ^43 ]
It O M
Home.
442
Death of
Constan¬
tine.
443
Reign of
Yalenti-
Constantine, however, did not live to feel these calami¬
ties. The latter part of his reign was peaceful and *pleii-
did ; ambassadors from the remotest Indies came to ac¬
knowledge his authority ; the Persians, who were ready
for fresh inroads, upon finding him prepared to oppose,
sent humbly to desire his friendship and forgiveness. He
was above GO years old, and had reigned above 30years,
when he found his health began to decline. To obvi¬
ate the effects of his disorder, which was an intermitting
fever, he made use of the warm baths of the city ; but
receiving no benefit from thence, he removed for change
of air to Helenopolis, a city which he had built to the
memory of his mother. His disorder increasing, he
changed again to Nicomedia; where finding himself
without hopes of recovery, he caused himself to be bap¬
tized ; and having soon after received the sacrament,
he expired, after a memorable and active reign of 32
years. This monarch’s character is represented to us in
very different lights : the Christian writers of that time
adorning it with every strain of panegyric; the hea¬
thens, on the contrary, loading it with all the virulence
of invective. He established a religion that continues
the blessing of mankind ; but pursued a scheme of po¬
litics that destroyed the empire.
From the time of Constantine to the division of the
empire between Valentinian and his brother Valens, the
history of Home is related under the article Constan¬
tinople, where also that of the eastern part is cariied
down to the final destruction of that city by the Turks.
In the beginning of the reign of Valentinian, the pro¬
vince of Libya Tripolitana was grievously oppressed by
the barbarians of the desert, and almost equally so by
Homanus its own governor. His conduct was so ex¬
ceedingly oppressive, that the inhabitants sent a deputa¬
tion to Valentinian, complaining of their unhappy situa¬
tion, and desiring redress, i’alladius was accordingly
sent to inquire into the state of the province ; but being
gained over by Romanus, he made a false report to the
emperor; and thus the unhappy province was left a prey
to the merciless invaders and rapacious governor. Du¬
ring the rest of this reign the barbarians continued their
inroads into the empire ; and among others, we find the
Saxons now putting in for a share of the spoils of the
ruined empire: however, their aimy was at this time
entirely cut off. At last Valentinian himself took the
field against these northern barbarians; and entering
the country of the Quadi, destroyed all with lire and
sword. The barbarians on this were fain to sue for
peace in a very humble manner; but Valentinian, fall¬
ing into a great passion while speaking to them, threat¬
ened to extirpate the whole nation at once. His fury
on this occasion produced an apoplexy, or some other
mortal disorder; lor he suddenly tell down, and being
conveyed by his attendants into his chamber, he was
seized with violent convulsive fits and contortions of all
his limbs, in the agonies of which he expired, in the
year 375, the 55th of his age, and 12th of his reign.
After the death of Valentinian, his son Gratian took
upon him the imperial dignity : soon after becoming
master of the whole empire by the death of Valens.
The transactions ot his reign, and those of his partner
Theodosius, are related under the article Constanti¬
nople, IS0 77- 89. The death of Theodosius gave
the finishing st'-oke to the Roman affairs ; his son Ho-
hoi ius, to v horn he left the •western empire, being pos¬
444
sessed of no abilities whatever, and indeed seeming to
have been but very little removed from an idiot. The
barbarians appear to have been abundantly sensible of
the advantages offered them by the death of Theodosius.
He expired in the month of January; and before the
accession of spring, the Goths were in arms. The bar- Invasion
barian auxiliaries also now declared their independency; 0'tlie
and along with their countrymen, fuiiously assailed the ^ aLuk^
declining empire. The Goths were now headed by an
experienced commander, their celebrated king Alaric ;
who would have proved formidable even in better times
of the empire. He first overran Greece, which he ac¬
complished without opposition, through the treachery
of the governor, who commanded the troops that de¬
fended the pass at Thermopylas to retire at the ap¬
proach of the enemy. Athens, Corinth, Argos, Spar¬
ta, yielded without resistance ; and the whole country
was ravaged and destroyed by the blood-thirsty bar¬
barians. At la-t, in the year 397, he was opposed by
Stilicho, the general of Honorius, a man of great va¬
lour and experience in war. The Goths wrere defeated
with great loss, and afterwards besieged in their camp ;
but through mistake or negligence in the Roman com¬
mander, they were suffered to escape, and make them¬
selves masters of the province of Epirus. Alaric then,
having found means to conclude a treaty with the mi¬
nisters of Constantinople, Stilicho was obliged to retire.
Not long after this, Alaric invaded Italy itself. The
emperor, struck with terror, would have abandoned
the country and fled into Gaul: but this disgraceful .
and pernicious measure was opposed by Stilicho; who
proposed to the court of Honorius, at that time at Mi¬
lan, that if they would maintain their ground during
his absence he would soon return with an army ca¬
pable of opposing the barbarians. This being agreed
to, Stilicho immediately set out for Rhaetia, where the
most considerable body of the Roman forces at that
time was, and collected his troops with the utmost di- f
ligence. But in the mean time Honorius was in the
greatest danger ; having been obliged to take refuge
in the town of Asta in Piedmont. To this place the
Goths instantly laid siege, and a capitulation had been
proposed, when the drooping spirits of Honorius were
at once revived by the arrival of Stilicho, whom he
had so long expected. The Goths were now besieged ^ t 5
in their turn, and obliged to come to a decisive battle Goths de¬
al Pollentia. The engagement lasted the whole day; feated at
but at last the Goths were compelled to retreat. Their Pohentia.
camp was instantly invested; their entrenchments for¬
ced with great slaughter ; the wife of Alaric was taken,
with all the wealth which had been amassed in plun¬
dering Greece; while many thousands of Roman pri¬
soners were released from the most deplorable slaver)-.
The victory, however, was not so decisive but that A-
laric continued still extremely formidable ; anti Stilicho
chose rather to conclude a treaty with him, and allow
him an annual pension, than to continue the war with
vigour. Alaric, who was not very scrupulous in his
observance of this treaty, in his retreat attempted to
make himself master of the city of Verona : but Stili¬
cho coming up with him near that place, gave him a
terrible defeat, in which the loss was imie less than it
had been at Pollentia; after which he effected a retreat
out of Italy, but not without the greatest difficulty and
danger.
H h 2
Italy
Home.
446
ilonoriiu
retires to
Xlaveuna.
447
Mr Gib¬
bon’s ac¬
count of
the revo¬
lutions in
China.
It O M [ 244 ] It 0 M
Italy being thus happily delivered, Honorius enter¬
ed Rome in triumph, having Stilicho along with him
in the triumphal chariot. On his entry into the city, he
abolished the shows of gladiators; which, though for¬
bidden by Constantine, had been tolerated by his suc¬
cessors, and even by Theodosius himself, out of com¬
plaisance to the people, who were beyond measure fond
of that inhuman diversion. However, soon after, the
emperor was obliged to leave the metropolis and retire
to Ravenna, in order to secure himself from the barba¬
rians, who now broke in upon the empire on all sides.
Such multitudes now made their appearance, that it is
not a little difficult to account for their sudden emi¬
gration. Mr Gibbon accounts for it from a supposed
revolution in the north-eastern parts of China. “ The
Chinese annals (says he), as they have been interpre¬
ted by the learned industry of the present age, may
be usefully applied to reveal the secret and remote
causes of the fall of the Roman empire. The extensive
territory to the north of the great wall was possessed
after the flight of the Huns, by the victorious Sienpi;
who were sometimes broken into independent tribes,
and sometimes re-united under a supreme chiefs till at
length styling themselves Topa, or “ masters of the
earth,” they acquired a more solid consistence, and a
more formidable power. The Topa soon compelled
the pastoral nations of the eastern desert to acknow¬
ledge the superiority of their arms ; they invaded China
in a period of weakness and intestine discord ; and
these fortunate Tartars, adopting the laws end man¬
ners of the vanquished people, founded an imperial dy¬
nasty, w-hich reigned near 160 years over the northern
provinces of the monarchy. Some generations before
they ascended the throne of China, one of the Topa
princes had inlisted in his cavalry a slave of the name
of Moko, renowned for his valour ; but who was tempt¬
ed, by the fear of punishment, to desert his standard,
and to range the desert at the head of 100 followers.
This gang of robbers and outlaws swelled into a camp,
a tribe, a numerous people, distinguished by the ap¬
pellation of Geougen ; and their hereditary chieftains,
the posterity of Moko the slave, assumed their rank
among the Scythian monarchs. The youth Toulun,
the greatest of his descendants, was exercised by those
misfortunes which are the school of heroes. He bravely
struggled with adversity, broke the imperious yoke of
the Topa, and became the legblator of his nation, and
the conqueror of Tartary. His troops were distributed
into regular bands of 100 and of 1000 men; cowards
were stoned to death ; the most splendid honours were
proposed as the reward of valour; and Toulun, who
had knowledge enough to despise the learning of Chi¬
na, adopted only such arts and institutions as were fa¬
vourable to the military spirit of his government. His
tents, which he removed in the winter season to a more
southern latitude, were pitched during the summer on
the fruitful banks of the Selinga. His conquests
Btret.died from the Corea far beyond the river Ltish.
He vanqui hed, in the country to the north of the Cas¬
pian sea, the nation of the Huns; and the new title of
Khan, or Cagan, expressed the tame and power which
he derived from this memorable victory.
“ The chain of events is interrupted, or rather is
concealed, as it passes from the Volga to the Vistula,
through the dark interval which separates the extreme
limits of the Chinese and of the Roman geography. Rome.
Yet the temper of the barbarians, and the experience «—
of successive emigrations, sufficiently declare, that the
Huns, who were oppressed by the arms of the Geougen,
soon withdrew from the presence of an insulting victor.
The countries towards the Euxine were already occu¬
pied by their kindred tribes; and their hasty flight,
which they soon converted into a bold attack, would
more naturally be directed towards the rich and level
plains through which the Vistula gently flows into the
Baltic sea. The north must again have been tilarmed
and agitated by the invasion of the Huns ; and the na¬
tions who retreated before them must have pressed
with incumbent weight on the confines of Germany.
The inhabitants of those regions which the ancients
have assigned to the Suevi, the Vandals, and the Bur¬
gundians, might embrace the resolution of abandoning
to the fugitives of Sarmatia their woods and morasses ;
or at least of discharging their superfluous numbers on
the provinces of the Roman empire. About four years
after the victoriousToulun had assumed the title of khan
of Ihe Geougen, another barbarian, the haughty Rho-
dogast, or Radagaisus, marched from the northern ex¬
tremities of Germany almost to the gates of Rome, and
left the remains of his army to achieve the destruction
of the west. The Vandals, the Suevi, ami the Bur¬
gundians, formed the strength of this mighty host; but
the Aiaui, who had found an hospitable reception in
their new seats, added their active cavalry to the heavy
infantry of the Germans; and the Gothic adventu¬
rers crowded so eagerly to the standard of Radagaisus,
that by some historians he has been styled the king of the
Goths Twelve thousand warriors, distinguished above pia(^ai
the vulgar by their noble birth or their valiant deeds, sus invades
glittered in the van ; and the whole multitude, which Italy with
was not less than 200,000 fighting men, might be in- a prodigi-
creased by the accession of women, of children, and ofous army‘
slaves, to the amount of 400,000 persons. This formi¬
dable emigration issued from the same coast of the Bal¬
tic which had poured forth the myriads of the Cim-
bri and Teutones to assault Rome and Italy in the vi¬
gour ot the republic. After the departure of those
barbarians, their native country, which was marked by
the vestiges of their greatness, long ramparts and gi¬
gantic moles, remained during some ages a vast and
dreary solitude ; till the human species was renewed
by the powers of generation, and the vacancy was fill¬
ed up by the influx of new inhabitants. The nations
who now usurp an extent of land which they are un¬
able to cultivate, would soon be assisted by the indus¬
trious poverty of their neighbours, if the government
of Europe did not protect the claims of dominion and
property.
i he correspondence of nations was in that age so
imperfect and precarious, that the revolutions of the
north might e -cape the knowledge of the court of Ra¬
venna ; till the dark cloud which was collected along
the coast of the Baltic burst in thunder upon the banks
°* Upper Danube. The emperor of the west, if
his ministers disturbed his amusements by the news of
the impending danger, ’was satisfied with being the oc¬
casion and the spectator of the war. The safety of
home was intrusted to the counsels and the sword of
Stricho.; but such wras the feeble and exhausted state
of the empire, that it was impossible to restore the for¬
tifications
ROM [ 245 ] R O M
Rome, tifications of the Danube, or to prevent by a vigorous
effort, the invasion of the Germans. The hopes of the
vigilant minister of Honorius were confined to the de¬
fence of Italy. He once more abandoned the provinces;
recalled the troops ; pressed the new levies, which were
rigorously enacted, and pusillanimously eluded; em¬
ployed the most efficacious means to arrest or allure
the deserters; and offered the gift of freedom, and of
two pieces of gold, to all the slaves who would enlist.
By these efforts he painfully collected from the sub¬
jects of a great empire an army of 30,000 or 40,000
men; which, in the days of Scipio or Camillus, would
have been instantly furnished by the free citizens of
the territory of Rome. The 30 legions of Stiiicho
were reinforced by a large body of barbarian auxilia¬
ries ; the faithful Alani were personally attached to his
service; and the troops of Huns and of Goths, who
marched under the banners of their native princes
Hulden and Sams, were animated by interest and re¬
sentment to oppose the ambition of Radagaisus. The
king of the confederate Germans passed, without re¬
sistance, the Alps, the Po, and the Apennine; leaving
on one hand the inaccessible palace of Honorius, se¬
curely buried among the marshes of Ravenna; and
on the other, the camp of Stiiicho, who had fixed his
headquarters at Ticinum, or Pavia, but who seems to
have avoided a decisive battle till he had assembled his
distant forces. Many cities of Italy were pillaged, or
destroyed; and the siege of Florence by Radagaisus
is one of the earliest events in the history of that cele¬
brated republic, whose firmness checked and delayed
the unskilful fury of the barbarians. The senate and
people trembled at their approach within ISO miles of
Rome, and anxiously compared the danger which they
had escaped with the new perils to which they were
exposed. Alaric was a Christian and a soldier, the
leader of a disciplined army ; who understood the lav/s
of war, who respected the sanctity of treaties, and who
had familiarly conversed with the subjects of the em¬
pire in the same camps and the same churches. The
savage Radagaisus was a stranger to the manners, the
religion, and even the language, of the civilized na¬
tions of the south. The fierceness of his temper was
exasperated by cruel superstition ; and it was univer¬
sally believed, that he had bound himself by a solemn
vow to reduce the city into a heap of stones and ashes,
and to sacrifice the most illustrious of the Roman se¬
nators on the altars of those gods who were appeased
by human blood. The public danger, which should
have reconciled all domestic animosities, displayed the
incurable madness of religious faction. The oppressed
votaries of Jupiter and Mercury respected, in the im¬
placable enemy of Rome, the character of a devout
pagan; loudly declared, that they were more appre¬
hensive of the sacrifices than of the arms of Radagai¬
sus ; and secretly rejoiced in the calamities of their
country, which condemned the faith of their Christian
adversaries.
■U9 “ Florence was reduced to the last extremity ; and
Defeated the fainting courage of the citizens was supported only
«d de- by the authority of St Ambrose, who had communi-
>tdidio ^ cated in a dream the promise of a speedy deliverance.
On a sudden they beheld from the walls the banners of
Stiiicho, who advanced with his united force to the re¬
lief of the faithful city ; and who soon marked that fa¬
tal spot for the grave of the barbarian host. The ap- Rome,
parent contradictions of those writers who variously re-
late the defeat of Radagaisus, may be reconciled with¬
out offering much violence to their respective testimo¬
nies. Orosius and Augustin, who were intimately con¬
nected by friendship and religion, ascribe this miracu¬
lous victory to the providence of God rather than to
the valour of man. They strictly exclude every idea
of chance, or even of bloodshed ; and positively affirm,
that the Romans, whose camp was the scene of plenty
and idleness, enjoyed the distress of the barbarians,
slowly expiring on the sharp and barren ridge of the
hills of Fsesuke, which rise above the city of Florence.
Their extravagant assertion, that not a single soldier of
the Christian army was killed, or even wounded, may
be dismissed with silent contempt; but the rest of the
narrative of Augustin and Orosius is consistent with the
state of the war and the character of Stiiicho. Consci¬
ous that he commanded the last army of the republic,
his prudence would not expose it in the open field to
the headstrong fury of the Germans. The method of
surrounding the enemy with strong lines of circumval-
lation, which he had twice employed against the Gothic
king, was repeated on a larger scale, and with more con¬
siderable effect.- The examples of Cassar must have been
familiar to the most illiterate of the Roman warriors ;
and the fortifications of Dyrrhachium, which connect¬
ed 24 castles by a perpetual ditch and rampart of 15
miles, afforded the model of an intrenchment which
might confine and starve the most numerous host of bar¬
barians. The Roman troops had less degenerated from
the industry than from the valour of their ancestors ;
and if the servile and laborious work offended the pride
of the soldiers, Tuscany could supply many thousand
peasants, who would labour, though perhaps they would
not fight, for the salvation of their native country.—
The imprisoned multitude of horses and men was gra¬
dually destroyed by famine, rather than by the sword ;
but the Romans were exposed, during the progress of
such an extensive work, to the frequent attacks of an
impatient enemy. The despair of the hungry barba¬
rians would precipitate them against the fortifications of
Stiiicho ; the general might sometimes indulge the ar¬
dour of his brave auxiliaries, who eagerly pressed to as¬
sault the camp of the Germans ; and these various inci¬
dents mightproduce the sharp andbloody conflicts which
dignify the narrative of Zosimus, and the Chronicles
of Prosper and Marcellinus. A seasonable supply of
men and provisions had been introduced into the walls
of Florence; and the famished host of Radagaisus was
in its turn besieged. The proud monarch of so many
warlike nations, after the loss of his bravest warriors,
was reduced to confide either in the faith of a capitula¬
tion, or in the clemency of Stiiicho. But the death of
the royal captive, who was ignominiouslybeheaded,dis¬
graced the triumph of Rome and of Christianity ; and
the short delay of his execution was sufficient to brand
the conqueror with the guilt of cool and deliberate
cruelty. The famished Germans who escaped the tiny
of the auxiliaries were sold as slaves, at the Contemptible
price of as many single pieces of gold; but the difference
of food and climate swept away great numbers of those
unhappy strangers; and it was observed, that the inhuman
purchasers, instead of reaping the fruit of their labour,
were soon obliged to add to it the expence of interring
t them.
'Rome.
450
Account of
the remain¬
ed of the
army of
Radagaisus.
4£l
The Van-
dai» defeat¬
ed by the
Franks.
BOM [ 246 ] . BOM
them. Stilicho informed the emperor and the senate
of his success ; and deserved a second time the glorious
title of Deliverer of Italy.
“ The fame of the victory, and more especially of
the miracle, has encouraged a vain persuasion, that the
whole army, or rather nation of Germans, who migra¬
ted from the shores of the Baltic, miserably perished
under the walls of Florence. Such indeed was the fate
of Badagaisus himself, of his brave and faithful com¬
panions, and of more than one-third of the vai ions mul¬
titude of Sueves and Vandals, of Alani and Burgundi¬
ans, who adhered to the standard of their general. The
union of such an army might exciteour surprise, but the
causes of separation are obvious and forcible; they were
the pride of birth, the insolence of valour, the je tlousy of
command, the impatience of subordination, and the
obstinate conflict of opinions, of interests, and of pas¬
sions, among so many kings and warriors, who were
untaught to yield or to obey. Aiter die defeat of Ra¬
dagaisus, two parts of the German host, which must
have exceeded the number of 100,000 men, still re¬
mained in arms between the Apennine andthe Alps, or
between the Alps and the Danube. It is uncertain whe¬
ther they attempted to revenge the death of their gene¬
ral : but their irregular fury was soon diverted by the
prudence and firmness of Stilicho, who opposed their
march, and facilitated their retreat ; who considered
the safety of Rome and Italy as the great object of his
care, and who sacrificed with too much indifference the
■wealth and tranquillity of the distant provinces. The
barbarians acquired, from the junction of sr me Panno-
nian deserters, the knowledge of the country and of the
roads ; and the invasion of Gaul, which Alaric had de¬
signed, was executed by the remains of the great army
of Radagaisus.
“ Yet if they expected to derive anj^ assistance from
the tribes of Germany who inhabited the banks of the
Rhine, their hopes were disappointed. The Alemanni
preserved a statemf inactive neutrality; and the Franks
distinguished their zeal and courage in the defence of
the empire. In the rapid progress down the Rhine,
which was the first act of the administration of Stilicho,
be had applied himself with peculiar attention to secure
the alliance of the warlike Franks, and to remove the
irreconcileabie enemies of peace and of the republic.
Marcomir, one of their kings, was publicly convicted
before the tribunal of the Roman magistrate, of violating
the faith of treaties. He was sentenced to a mild, but
distant exile, in the province cf Tuscany; and this de¬
gradation of the regal dignity was so far from exciting
the resentment of his subjects, that they punished with
death the turbulent Sunno, who attempted to revenge
his brother, and maintained a dutiful allegiance to the
princes who were established on the throne by the choice
of Stilicho. fVhen the limits of Gaul and Germany
were shaken by the northern emigration, the Franks
bravely encountered the-single force of the Vandals ;
who, regardless of the lessons of adversity, had again
separated their troops from the-standard of their barba¬
rian allies. I hey paid the penalty of their rashness ;
and 20,000 Vandais, with their king Godigisclus, were
slain in the field of battle. The whole people must have
been extirpated, if the squadrons of the Alani, advan¬
cing to their relief, had not trampled down the infantry
ot the Franks; who, after an honourable resistance,
were compelled to relinquish the unequal contest. The
victorious confederates pursued their march; and on v
the last day of the year, in a season when the waters of
the Rhine were most probably frozen, they entered
without opposition the defenceless provinces of Gaul.
This memorable passage of the Suevi, the Vandals, the
Alani, and the Burgundians, who never afterwards re¬
treated, may be considered as the fall of the Roman
empire in the countries beyond the Alps ; and the bar¬
riers, winch had so long separated the savage and the
civilized nations of the earth, were from that fatal mo¬
ment levelled with the ground.
“ While the peace of Germany was secured by the
attachment of the Franks and the neutrality of the
Alemanni, the subjects of Rome, unconscious of their
approaching calamities, enjoyed a state of quiet and
prosperity, which had seldom blessed the frontiers of
Gaul. Their flocks and herds were permitted to graze
in the pastures of the barbarians ; their huntsmen pe¬
netrated, without fear or clanger, into the darkest re¬
cesses of the Hercynian wood. The banks of the Rhine
were crowned, like those of the Tiber, with elegant
houses and well cultivated farms; and if a poet descend¬
ed the river, he might express his doubt on which side ^
was situated the territory of the Romans. This scene Gatli
of peace and plenty was suddenly changed into a desert, ged t k
and the prospect of the smoking ruins could alone di- barbi »»•
stinguish the solitude of nature from the desolation of
man. The flourishing city of Mentz was surprised and
destroyed ; and many thousand Christians were inhu¬
manly massacred in the church. Worms perished after
a long and obstinate siege : Strasburg, Spires, Rheims,
Tout nay, Aras, Amiens, experienced the cruel oppres¬
sion of the German yoke, and the consuming flames of
war spread from the banks of the Rhineover the greatest
part of the 17 provinces of Gaul. That rich and ex¬
tensive country, as far as the ocean, the Alps, and the
Pyrenees, was delivered to the barbarians, who drove
before them, in a promiscuous crowd, the bishop, the
senator, and the virgin, laden with the spoils of their
houses and altars.” V
In the midst of these calamities a revolt happened in ^ ']
Britain, where one Constantine, a common soldier, was tine, b'®
raised to the imperial throne, merely for the sake of his Hon «
name. However, he seems to have been a man of aclcn'
considerableabilities, and by no means unfit for the high j^g< ^
dignity to which he was raised. Fie governed Britain *■
with great prosperity; passed over into Gaul and Spain, pire.
the inhabitants of which submitted without opposition,
being glad of any protector whatever from tho barba¬
rians. Honorius, incapable of defending the empire,
or repressing the revolt, wras obliged to acknowledge
him for his partner in the empire. In the mean time,
Alaric, with his Goths, threatened a new invasion un¬
less he was paid a certain sum of money. Stilicho is
said to have occasioned this demand, and to have insist¬
ed upon sending him the money he demanded ; and this
was the cause of his disgrace and death, which happen¬
ed ■soon after, -with the extirpation of his family and
friends. Nay, such was the general hatred of this un- . ‘jfeL
fortunate minister, that the soldiers quartered in the ci- ^
ties ot Italy no sooner heard of his death, than they
murdered the wives and children of the barbarians whom ^ati
Stilicho had taken into the service of Honorius. The
enraged husbands went over to Alaric, who made a
■ • new
m
R O M [
; ne. new demand of money ; which not being readily sent,
'm he laid siege to Rome, and would have taken it, had
not the emperor complied with his demand. The ran¬
som of the city was 5000 pounds of gold, 30,000 of
silver, 4000 silk garments, 3000 skins dyed purple,
and 3000 pounds of pepper. On this occasion the
heathen temples were stripped of their remaining or¬
naments, and among others of the statue of Valour ;
which the pagans did not fail to interpret as a pre¬
sage of the speedy ruin of the state.
Alaric having received this treasure, departed for a
short time : but soon after he again blocked up the city
with a numerous army ; and again an accommodation
with Honorius wras set on foot. However, for some rea-
55 sons which do not clearly appear, the treaty was bro-
y ■ ta- ken off, Rome was a third time besieged, and at last
ii ad taken and plundered. Alaric, when upon the point of
p! x-red breaking into the city,addressing his soldiers, told them
• ^ that all the wealth in it was theirs, and therefore he
gave them full liberty to seize it; but at the same time
he strictly enjoined them to shed the blood of none but
such as they should find in arms; and above all, to spare
those who should take sanctuary in the holy places,
especially in the churches of the apostles St Peter and
St Paul; which he named, because they were most spa¬
cious, and consequently capable of affording an asylum
to great numbers of people. Plaving given these or¬
ders, he abandoned the city to his Goths, who treated
it no better, according to St Jerome, than the Greeks
are said to have treated ancient Troy ; for after having
plundered it for the space of three, or, as others will
have it, of six days, they set fire to it in several places ;
so that the stately pa'ace of Sallust, and many other
magnificent buildings, were reduced to ashes; nay, Pro¬
copius writes, that there was not in the whole city one
house left entire; and both St Jerome and Philostorgius
assert, that the great metropolis of the empire was re¬
duced to a heap of ashes and ruins. 1 hough many
of the Goths, pursuant to the orders of their general,
refrained from shedding the blood of such as made no
re istance; yet others, more cruel and blood-thirsty,
massacred all they met; so that the streets in some quar¬
ters of the city were seen covered with dead bodies, and
swimming in blood. Plowever, not the least injury
was offered to those who fled to the churches ; nay, tl e
Goths themselves conveyed thither, as to places of safe¬
ly, such as they were desirou s should be spared. Many
of the statues of the gods that had been left entire by
the emperors as excellent pieces of art, were on this oc¬
casion destroyed, either by the Goths, who, tnough
mostly Arians, wrere zealous Christians, or by a dread¬
ful storm of thunder and lightning winch fell at the
same time upon the city, as if it had been sent on pur¬
pose to complete with them the destruction of idolatry,
and abolish the small remains of pagan superstition.
Notwithstanding these accounts, some affirm t iat the
city suffered very little at this time, and even not so
h® much as when it was taken by Charles V.
tl ^ Alaric did not solong survive the takingof Rome, be-
>1 or, * ln8 cut off by a violent fit of sickness in the neighbour¬
hood of Rhegium. After his death the affairs of Ho-
norius seemed a little to revive by the defeat and death
of Constantine and some other usurpers ; but the pro¬
vinces of Gaul, Britain, and Spain, were now almost
entirely occupied by barbarians; in which state they
247 ] It O M
continued till the death of Honorius, which happened Rom*,
in the year 423, after an unfortunate reign of 28
years.
After some usurpations which took place on the
death of Honorius, his nephew Valentiniau III. was
declared emperor of the west, and his mother Placidia
regent during his minority. He was scarce seated on
the throne, when the empire was attacked by the Huns
under the celebrated Attila. The Romans, however,
wretched and degenerate as they were, had they been
unanimous, would even yet have been superior to their
onemies. The empress then had two celebrate ! generals,
Bonifacius and Aetius ; who by their union might have
saved the empire: but unhappily,through the treachery
of Aetius, Bonifacius was obliged to revolt: and a ci¬
vil war ensued, in which he lost his life. Aetius, how¬
ever, notwithstanding his treachery, was pardoned, and
put at the head of the forces of the empire. He de¬
fended it against Attila with great spirit and success,
notwithstanding the deplorable situation of affairs, till
he was murdered by Valentinian with his own hand,
on a suspicion that he aspired to the empire. But in
the meantime the provinces, except Italy itself, were
totally overrun by the barbarians. Genseric king of
the Vandals ravaged Africa and Sicily; the Goths,
Suevians, Burgundians, &c. had taken possession of
Gaul and Spain; and the Britons were oppressed by
the Scots and Piets, so that they were obliged to call
in the Saxons to their assistance, as is related under
the ai*ticle England. In the year 455, Valentinian was
murdered by one Maximus, whose wife he had ravish¬
ed. Maximus immediately assumed the empire; but
felt such violent anxieties, that he designed to resign
it and fly out of Italy, in order to enjoy the quiet of a
private life. However, being dissuaded from this by
his friends, and his own wife dying soon after, he forced
the empress Eudoxia to marry him. Eudoxia, who
had tenderly loved Valentinian, provoked beyond mea-'
sure at being married to his murderer, invited Genseric
king of the Vandals into Italy. This proved a most 4,57
fatal scheme: for Genseric immediately appeared before Rome ta-
Rorne ; a violent tumult ensued, in which Maximus ken antl
lost his life ; and the city was taken and plundered by
Genseric, who carried off what had been left by tire
Goths. A vessel was loaded with costly statue? ; half
the covering of the capitol, which wras of brass plated
over with gold; sacred vessels enriched with precious
stones; and those wh ch had been taken by Titus out
of the temple of Jerusalem ; a’l of which were lost
with the vessel in its passage to Africa.
Nothing could now be more deplorable than the state
of the Roman affairs: nevertheless, the empire conti¬
nued to exist for some years longer; and even seemed
to revive for a little under Marjorianus, who was decla¬
red emperor in 458. He was a man of great courage,
and possessed of many other excellent qualities. He
defeated the Vandals, and drove them out of Italy.
With great labour he fitted out a fleet, of which the
Romans had been long destitute. With this he design¬
ed to pass over into Africa; but it being surprised and
burnt by the enemy, he himself was soon after murder¬
ed by one Ricimer a Goth, who had long governed
every thing with an absolute sway. After the death anAby
of Marjorianus, one Anthemius was raised to the em. Rlc“n6r*
pire: but beginning to counteract Ricimer, the latter
openly
Rome.
459
Total fai¬
lure of the
empire.
K Q M [ 248 ] K O M
openly revolted, besieged and took Rome; where he
committed innumerable cruelties, among the rest put¬
ting to death the unhappy emperor Anthemius, and
raising one Olybius to the empire. The transactions
of his reign were very few, as he died soon after his ac¬
cession. On his death, one Glycerius usurped the em¬
pire. He was deposed in 474, and one Julius Nepos
had the name of emperor. He was driven out the next
year by his general Orestes, who caused his son Augu¬
stus or Augustulus to be proclaimed emperor. But
the following year, 476, the barbarians who served in
the Roman armies, and were distinguished with the
title of allies, demanded, as a reward for their services,
the third part of the lands in Italy ; pretending, that
the whole country, which they had so often defended,
belonged of right to them. As Orestes refused to
comply with this insolent demand, they resolved to do
themselves justice, as they called it; and openly re¬
volting, chose one Odoacer for their leader. Odoacer
was, according to Ennodius, meanly born, and only a
private man in the guards of the emperor Augustulus,
when the barbarians revolting chose him for their lead¬
er. He is said to have been a man of uncommon
parts, equally capable of commanding an army and
governing a state. Having left his own country when
he was yet very young, to serve in Italy, as he was of
a stature remarkably tall, he was admitted among the
emperor’s guards,.and continued in that station till the
present year; when, putting himself at the head of the
barbarians in the Roman pay, who, though of dilferent
nations, had, with one consent, chosen him for their
leader, he marched against Orestes and his son Augu¬
stulus, who still refused to give them any share of the
lands in Italy.
As the Roman troops were inferior, both in num¬
ber and valour, to the barbarians, Orestes took refuge
in Pavia, at that time one of the best fortified cities in
Italy : but Odoacer, investing the place without loss of
time, took it soon after by assault, gave it up to be
plundered by the so'diers, and then set fire to it: which
reduced most of the houses, and two churches, to ashes.
Orestes was taken prisoner, and brought to Odoacer,
■who carried him to Placentia, and there caused him to
be put to death, on the 2bth of August, the day on
which he had driven Nepos out of Ravenna, and ob¬
liged him to abandon the empire. From Placentia,
Odoacer marched straight to Ravenna, where he found
Paul, the brother of Orestes, and the young emperor
Augustulus. I he former he immediately put to death ;
but sparing Augustulus, in consideration of his youth,
he stripped him of the ensigns of the imperial dignity,
and confined him to Lucullanum, a castle in Campa¬
nia; where he was by Odoacer's orders, treated with
great humanity, and allowed an handsoa e maintenance
to support him.-elf and his relations. Rome readily
submitted to the conqueror, who immediately caused
himself to be proclaimed King of Italy, but would not
assume the purple, or any other mark of the imperial
dignity. Thus failed the very name of an empire in
the Y\ est. Britain had been long since abandoned by
the Romans; Spain was held by the Goths and Sue-
vans; Africa, by the V7 an dais; the Burgundians,
Goths, Franks, and Alans, had erected several te-
trarchies in Gaul ; at length Italy itself, with its proud
metropolis, which for so many ages had given law to
the rest of the world, was enslaved by a contemptible Boci
barbarian, whose family, country, and nation, are not 'w-v y
well known to this day.
From this time, Rome has ceased to be the capital
of an empire ; the territories of the pope, to whom the
city is now subject, being inconsiderable. The origin
of the pope’s temporal power, and the revolutions of
Italy, are related under the article Italy ; and a sketch
of the spiritual usurpations of the popes may be seen
under the articles History, sect. ii. and Reforma¬
tion ; and likewise under the various historical articles
as they occur in the course of this work.
It is thought that the walls of modern Rome take
in nearly the same extent of ground as the ancient; but 01
the difference between the number of buildings on this Koffi n
spot is very great, one half of modern Rome lying
waste, or occupied with gardens, fields, meadows, and
vineyards. One may walk quite round the city in
three or four hours at most, the circumference being
reckoned about 13 Italian miles. With regard to the
number of the inhabitants, modern Rome is also great¬
ly inferior to the ancient; for, in 1709, the whole of
these amounted only to 138,568 ; among which were
40 bishops, 2686 priests, 3559 monks, 181 4 nuns, 393
courtesan®, about 8000 or 9000 Jews, and 14 Moors.
In 1791 they were estimated at 106,000, and in 1813,
at 100,000 only. This reduction is ascribed partly to
the political revolutions the town has lately experienced,
but in a greater degree to the malaria, or insalubrity of
the atmosphere, which has desolated the surrounding
country, and is investing the city itself, (see Edin. Re¬
view, xxviii. p. 57). In the beauty of its temples and
palaces, modem Rome is thought by the most judi¬
cious travellers to excel the ancient. There was nothing
in ancient Rome to be compared with St Peter’s church
in the modern city. That Rome was able to recover it¬
self after so many calamities and devastations, will not
bematterof surprise, if we consider the prodigious sums
that it has so long annually drawn from all countries ol
the Popish persuasion. These sums, though still con-
siderable,havebeencontinually decreasing since the Re¬
formation. 1 he surface of the ground on which Rome
was originally founded is surprisingly altered. At pre¬
sent it is difficult to distinguish the seven hills on which
it was first built, the low grounds being almost filled up
with the ruins of the ancient sti’eets and houses, and
the great quantities of earth washed down by the rains.
Anciently the suburbs extended a vast way on all sides,
and made the city appear almostboundless; butitisquite
otherwise now, the country about Rome being almost a
desert. Nocityatpresentintheworldsurpasses,orindeed
equals Rome, for the multiplicity of fine fountains, noble
edifices, antiquities, curiosities, paintings, statues, and
sculptures. I he city standsonthe Tiber, 1 Omiles from the
I uscansea,380fromVienna,56ofrora Paris,?40fromAm¬
sterdam,^! OfromLondon,and 900from Madrid. The Ti¬
ber is subject to frequent inundations, by which it often
does great damage* A small part of the city is separated
horn the other by the river, and is therefore called Tra-
vatere, or beyond the Tiber. There are several bridges
over the river, a great number of towers on the walls,
and 20 gates. The remains of Rome’s ancient gran¬
deur consist of statues, colossuses, temples, palaces,
theatres, naumaehias, triumphal arches, circuses, co¬
lumns, obelisks, fountains, aqueducts, mausoleums, ther-
R O M [ 249 1 E O'M
Itome. mae or liot baths, and other structures. Of modern
buildings, the splendid churches and palaces are the
most remarkable. Mr Addison says, it is almost im¬
possible for a man to form in his imagination such beau¬
tiful and glorious scenes as are to be met with in se¬
veral of the Roman churches and chapels" This gen¬
tleman tells us also, that no part of the antiquities of
Rome pleased him so much as the ancient statues, of
which there is still an incredible variety. Next to the
statues, he says, there is nothing- more surprising than
the amazing variety of ancient pillars of so many kinds
of marble. Rome is said to be well paved ; but not
well lighted, nor kept very clean. Two-thirds of the
houses are the property of the churches, convents, and
alms houses. Protestants are not obliged to kneel at
the elevation of the host, or at meeting the eucharist
in the streets; and they may have flesh-meat always at
the inns, even during Lent. Here are many acade¬
mies for promoting arts and sciences, besides the uni¬
versity. The carnival here is only during the eight
days before Lent, and there are no such scenes of riot
as at Venice: prostitutes, however, are publicly to¬
lerated. To maintain good order, there is a body of
300 Sbirri, or Halberdeers, under their barigella, or
colonel. There is little or no trade carried on in Rome,
but a vast deal of money is spent by travellers and
other strangers. The principal modern structures are
the church of St Peter, and the other churches; the
aqueducts anel fountains; the Vatican, and the other
palaces ; the Campidolio, where the Roman senate re¬
sides, &c. The principal remains of antiquity are the
pila miliaria of fine marble ; the equestrian brass sta¬
tue of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus ; the marble monu¬
ment of the emperor Alexander Sererus ; marble busts
of the emperors and their consorts; three brick arches
of the temple of Peace, built by the emperor Vespa¬
sian ; the triumphal arch of Septimus Severus and
of Gallienus; the circus of Antoninus Caracalla ;
some parts of the cloaca maxima; the columna Anto¬
nina, representing the principal actions of Marcus Au¬
relius ; the columna Trajani, or Trajan’s pillar; some
fragments of the curia or palace of Antoninus Pius,
and of Nerva’s forum; the mausoleum of Augustus,
in the Strada Pontifici ; the remains of the emperor
Severus’s tomb without St John’s gate ; the pyramid
of Caius Cestius near St Paul’s gate ; the porphyry cof¬
fin of St Llelen, and the original statue of Constantine
the Great, in the church of St John of Lateran : a font
of oriental granite, in the chapel of St Giovanni in
fonte, said to have been erected by Constantine the
Great; an Egyptian obelisk near the church of St
Maria Maggiore; the stately remains of Dioclesian’s
baths; the celebrated Pantheon; the obelisks of Se-
sostris and Augustus by the Clementine college; the
church of St Paul fuori della Mura, said to have been
built by Constantine the Great; the Farnese Hercu¬
les, in white marble, of a colossal size and exquisite
workmanship, in a court of the Farnese palace, and an
admirable group cut out of one block of marble, in
another court of the same palace. Besides these there
are a great mauy more, which our bounds will not
allow us to take any further notice of. Here is a
great number of rich and well-regulated hospitals.
Near the church of St Sebastiano alie Catacombe, are
the most spacious of the catacombs, where the Chri-
Vol. XVIII. P„rt I.
stfans, who never burned their dead, and such of the
Pagan Romans as cou'd not afford the ext ence of
burning, were buried. Along the Via Appia, with¬
out St Sebastian's gate, were the tombs of the prin¬
cipal families of Rome, which at present are used for
cellars and store-houses, by the gardeners and vine¬
dressers.
Rome was entered, in February 1798, by the French,
and in consequence of a tumult which ensued, when
their general Duphot was killed, they deposed the pope,
abolished the papal government, and erected in its stead
a republic, to which they gave the designation of the
Roman republic. They sent the pope himself to France,
where he died on his various removals ; they likewise
sent away great numbers of the most valuable statues
and paintings of antiquity, and compelled the inhabi¬
tants to pay heavy contributions. In the month of Sep¬
tember 1799, the allies retook this city, and the new"
French government was overthrown. It was afterwards
obliged to yield to the insatiable ambition of Bonaparte,
and formed a part of his dominions till the over¬
throw of his pow-er in 1815, when the pope was
replaced.
ROMNEY, a town of Kent in England. It is one
of the cinque-port towns, and is seated on a marsh of
the same name, famous for feeding cattle; but the air
is very unhealthy. It was once a large and populous
place, but the retiring of the sea has reduced it very
much ; it sends two members to parliament.
ROMORANTIN, is a town of France situated on
the river Saudre, in the department of Loire and Cher,
containing 5730 inhabitants, in 1 800, and long famous
for its woollen manufacture. It is said to be a very
ancientplace; and theinbabitantspretend that Caesar built
a tower here, of which there are still some considerable
remains. They have a manufacture of serge and
cloth, which is used for the clothing of the troops.
ROM PEE, or Rgmpu, in Heraldry, is applied to
ordinaries that are represented as broken; and to
chevrons, bends, or the like, whose upper points aie
cut off.
Jlnvn'e.
li
Roria.
ROMULUS, the founder and first king of Rome,
See Rome, N° 14.
RONCIGLIONE, is a small town of Italy, in the
Ecclesiastic State, and Patrimony of St Peter, in E.
Long. 12. 8. N. Eat. 42. and 25 miles N. from Rome.
It had a pretty good trade, and was one of the i ichest in
the province, while it belonged to the dukes of Parma,
which was till 1649, when Pope Innocent X. became
master of it, and it has ever since continued in the pos¬
session of his successors.
RONDELETIA, a genus of plants belonging to
the pentandria class, and in the natural method ranking
with those of which the order is doubtful. See Botany
Index.
KONA, one of the Hebrides islands, is reckoned
about 20 leagues distant from the north-east point of
Ness in Lewis—and is about a mile long, and half a
mile broad. It has a hill in the west part, and is only
visible from Lewis in a fair summer’s day. There is a
chapel in the island dedicated to St Ronan, fenced with
a stone wall round it. This church the natives take
care to keep very neat and clean, and sweep it eveiy
day There is an altar in it, in which there lies a big
plank of wood abcait 10 feet long. Every foot has a
t I i hole
RON [ 250 3 RON
Rons, hole fn it, and in every hole is a stone, to which the na-
Ronsord. tjves asci’ibe several virtues ; one of them is singular (as
they say) for promoting speedy delivery to a woman in
travail. The inhabitants are extremely ignorant, and
very superstitious. See Martin’s Description.
110NSARD, Petek de, a French poet, was born at
the castle of Poissoniere in Vendomois in 1524. He was
descended of a noble family, and was educated at Paris
in the college of Navarre. Academical pursuits not suit¬
ing his genius, he left college, and became page to the
duke of Orleans, who resigned him to James Stuart, king
of Scots, married to Magdalene of France. Ronsard con¬
tinued in Scotland with King James upwards of two
years, and afterwards went to France, where he was
employed by the duke of Orleans in several negocia-
tions. He accompanied Lazarus de Baif to the diet of
Spires. Having from the conversation of this learned
man imbibed a passion for the belles-lettres, he studied
the Greek language with Baif’s son under Dorat. It is
reported of Ronsard, that his practice was to study till
two o’clock in the morning ; and when he went to bed,
to awaken Baifl who resumed his place. The muses
possessed in his eyes an infinity of charms; and he cul¬
tivated them with such success, that he acquired the ap¬
pellation of the Prince of the Poets of his time. Hen¬
ry II. Francis II. Charles IX. and Henry III. loaded
him with favours. Having gained the first prize of the
Jeux Flaraitx, they thought the reward promised below
the merit of the work, and the reputation of the poet.
The city of Toulouse caused a Minerva of massy silver
of considerable value to be made and sent to him. This
present was accompanied with a decree, declaring him
The French Poet, by way of distinction. Ronsard af-
terwards made a present of his Minerva to Henry II.
and this monarch appeared as much elated with this
mark of the poet’s esteem for him, as the poet himself
could have been had he received the present from his
sovereign. Mary, the beautiful and unfortunate queen
of Scots, who was equally sensible of his merit with the
Toulonese, gave him a very rich set of table-plate,
among which was a vessel in the form of a rose-bush, re¬
presenting Mount Parnassus, on the top of which was a
Pegasus with this inscription :
A Ronsard, VApollon de lq_ source dcs muses.
From the above two anecdotes of him may easily be in¬
ferred the reputation in which he was held, and which
he continued to keep till Malherbe appeared. His
works possess both invention and genius ; but his affec¬
tation of everywhere thrusting in his learning, and of
forming words from the Greek, the Latin, and the dif¬
ferent provincialisms of France, has rendered his versifi¬
cation disagreeable and often unintelligible.
Ronsard, dit Despreaux, par une autre methodc,
Reglant tout, hrouilla tout, Jit un art d sa mode ;
Ft toutefois long temps cut un heureux destin ;
Mais sa muse, en Francois parlant Gree et Latin,
Fit dans I’dge suivanl, par un retour grotesque,
Tomber de ses grands mots lejaste pedantesque.
He wrote hymns, odes, a poem called the Franciad,
eclogues, epigrams, sonnets, &c. In his odes he takes
bombast for poetical raptures. He wishes to imitate
Pindar; and by labouring too much lor lofty expres¬
sions, he loses himself in a cloud of words. He is ob¬
scure and harsh to the last degree : faults which lie Rons;I
might easily have avoided by studying the works of *-*-y
Marot, who had before he wrote brought French poe¬
try very near to perfection. “ Marot’s turn and style
of composition arc such (says Bruyere), that he seems
to have written after Ronsard : there is hardly any dif¬
ference, except in a few words, between Marot and us.
Ronsard, and the authors his contemporaries, did more
disservice than good to style: they checked its course
in the advances it was making towards perfection, and
had like to have prevented its ever attaining it. It is
surprising that Marot, whose works are so natural and
easy, did not make Ronsard, who was fired with the
strong enthusiasm of poetry, a greater poet than either
Ronsard or Marot.” But what could be expected from
a man who had so little taste, that he called Marot’s
works, c a dunghill, from which rich grains of gold by
industrious working might be drawn ?’ As a specimen
of our author’s intolerable and ridiculous affectation of
learning, which we have already censured, Boileau cites
the following verse of Ronsard to his mistress : Estes-
vans pas ma scale entelechie? 1 are not you my only en-
telechia ?’ Now entckchia is a word peculiar to the pe¬
ripatetic philosophy, the sense of which does not appear
to havaever been fixed. Hermolaus Barbaras is said to
have had recourse to the devil, in order to know the
meaning of this new term used by Aristotle ; but he did
not gain the information he wanted, the devil, probably
to conceal his ignorance, speaking in a faint and whis¬
pering sort of voice. What could Ronsard’s mistress,
therefore, or even Ronsard himself, know of it; and,
what can excuse in a man of real genius the low affecta¬
tion of using a learned term, because in truth nobody
could understand it. He has, however, some pieces not
destitute of real merit; and there are perhaps few effu¬
sions of the French muse more truly poetical than his
Four Seasons of the Year, where a most fertile imagina¬
tion displays all its riches.
Ronsard, though it is doubtful whether he ever was
in orders, held several benefices in commendam; and he
died at Saint-Cosme-les-Tours, one of these, December
27. 1585, being then 61 years of age. He appeared
more ridiculous as a man than as a poet: he was parti¬
cularly vain. Fie talked of nothing but Ids family and
his alliances with crowned heads. In his panegyrics,
which he addx*esses to himself without any ceremony, he
has the vanity to pretend, that from Ronsard is derived
the word Rosignol, to denote both a musician and a poet
together. He was born the year after the defeat of
Francis I. before Pavia: “Just as heaven (said he)
Avished to indemnify France for the losses it had sustain¬
ed at that place.” He blushed not to tell of his in¬
trigues. All the ladies sought after him ; but he never
said that any of them gave him a denial of their favours.
His immoderate indulgence in pleasure, joined to his li¬
terary labours, served to hasten his old age. In his 50th
year he was weak and valetudinary, and subject to at¬
tacks of the gout. He retained his wit, his vivacity,
and his readiness at poetic composition, to his last mo¬
ments. Like all those who aspire after public esteem,
he had a great number of admirers and some enemies.
Though Melin de Saint-Gelais railed at him continual¬
ly > Rabelais was the person whom he most dreaded. He
took always care to inform himself where that jovial
rector of Mendon went, that he might not be found in
the
It O 0
[ 251 ]
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isanl.
t!
30f.
'.PC-
J 1
l iltion.
f hires
t, urious
i sot'
1 •
3
or of
Christo-
J rWren
he roof
1 ^Paul’s,
idon.
tlie same place with him. It is reported that Voltaire
acted a similar part with regard to Peron *, of whose
extemporary sallies and bon mots he was much afraid.
Ronsard’s poems appeared in 1567 at Paris in 6 vols.
4to, and in 1604- in 10 vols. l?mo.
ROOD, a quantity of land equal to 40 square per¬
ches, or the fourth part of an acre.
ROOF, expresses the covering of a house or building,
by which its inhabitants or contents are protected from
the injuries of the weather. It is perhaps the essential
part of a house, and is frequently used to express the
whole. To come ttnder a person’s roof, is to enjoy his
protection and society, to dwell with him. Tectum was
used in the same sense by the Romans. To be within
our walls rather expresses the being in our possession: a
roof, therefore, is not only an essential part of a house,
but it even seems to be its characteristic feature. The
Greeks, who have perhaps excelled all nations in taste,
and who have given the most perfect model of architec¬
tonic ordonnance within a certain limit, never erected a
building which did not exhibit this part in the distinctest
manner ; and though they borrowed much of their mo¬
del from the orientals, as will be evident to any who
compares their architecture with the ruins of Persepolis,
and of the tombs in the mountains of Schiras, they added
that form of roof which their own climate taught them
was necessary for sheltering them from the rains. The
roofs in Persia and Arabia are flat, but those of Greece
are without exception sloping. It seems therefore a
gross violation of the true principles of taste in architec¬
ture (at least in the regions of Europe), to take away
*>r to hide the roof of a house ; and it must be ascribed
to that rage for novelty which is so powerful in the
minds of the rich. Our ancestors seemed to be of a ve¬
ry different opinion, and turned their attention to the
ornamenting of their roofs as much as any other part of
a building. They showed them in the most conspicuous
manner, running them up to a great height, broke them
into a thousand fanciful shapes, and stuck them full of
highly dressed windows. We laugh at this, and call it
Gothic and clumsy; and our great architects, not to
offend any more in this way, conceal the roof altoge¬
ther by parapets, balustrades, and other contrivances.
Our forefathers certainly did offend against the maxims
of true taste, when they enriched a part of a house with
marks of elfegant habitation, which every spectator must
know to be a cumbersome garret: but their successors
no less offend, who take off the cover of the house alto¬
gether, and make it impossible to know whether it is
not a mere skreen or colonnade w e are looking at.
We cannot help thinking that Sir Christopher Wren
erred when he so industriously concealed the roof of St
Paul’s church in London. The whole of the upper or¬
der is a mere screen. Such a quantity of wall would
have been intolerably offensive, had he not given it some
appearance of habitation by the mock windows or
niches. Even in this state it is gloomy, and it is odd,
and is a puzzle to every spectator—There should be no
puzzle in the design of a building any more than in a
discourse. It has been said that the double roof of our
great churches which have aisles is an incongruity,
looking like a house standing on the top of another
house. But there is not the least occasion for such a
thought. We know that the aisle is a shed, a cloister.
Suppose only that the lower roof or shed is hidden by
a balustrade, it then becomes a portico, against which
the connoisseur has no objection : yet there is no differ¬
ence ; for the portico must have a cover, otherwise it
is neither a shed, cloister, nor portico, any more than a
building Avithout a roof is a home. A house without a
visible roof is like a man abroad vrithout his hat; and
we may add, that the whim of concealing the chimneys,
now so fashionable, changes a house to a barn or store,,
house. A house should not be a copy of any thing.
It has a title to be an original ; and a screen-like house
and a pillar-like candlestick are similar solecisms in
taste.
The architect is anxious to present a fine object, and
a very simple outline discusses all his concerns with the
roof. He leaves it to the carpenter, whom he frequent¬
ly puzzles (by his arrangements) with coverings almost
impossible to execute. Indeed it is seldom that the idea
of a roof is admitted by him into his great compositions ;
cr if he does introduce it, it is from mere affectation,
and avc may say pedantry. A pediment is frequently
stuck up in the middle of a grand front, in a situation
Avhere a roof cannot perform its office ; for the rain,
that is Supposed to flow down its sides must be received
on the top of the leArel buildings Avhich flank it. This
is a manifest incongruity. The tops of dressed windows,
trifling porches, and sometimes a projecting portico, are
the only situations in which Ave see the figure of a roof
correspond with its office. Having thus lost sight of
the principle, it is not surprising that the draughtsman
(for he should not be called architect) runs into every
Avhirn : and we see pediment Avithin pediment, around
pediment, a IioIIoav pediment, and the greatest of all
absurdities, a broken pediment. Nothing could ever
reconcile us to the sight of a man with a hat Avithout
its crown, because we cannot overlook the use of a
hat.
But when one builds a house, ornament alone will
not do. We must have a cover ; and the enormous ex¬
pence and other great inconveniences which attend the
concealment of this cover by parapets, balustrades, and
screens, have obliged architects to consider the pent
roof as admissible, and to regulate its form. Any man
of sense, not under the influence of prejudice, would be
determined in this by its fitness for answering its pur¬
pose. A high pitched roof will undoubtedly shoot off
the rains and snows better than one of a loAver pitch.
The Avind will not so easily blow the dropping rain in
betAveen the slate-, nor will it have so much power to
strip them off. A high-pitched roof will exert a smaller
thrust on the walls, both because it? strain is less hori¬
zontal, and because it Aviil admit of lighter covering.
But it is more expensive, because there is more of it.
It requires a greater size of timbe.s to make it
equally strong, and it exposes a greater surface to the
wind.
There have been great changes in the pitch of roofs ;
our forefathers made them very high, and we make them
very low. It does not, however, appear, that this
change has been altogether the effect of principle. In
the simpleunadorned habitations of privateper-sons, eve¬
ry thing comes to be adjusted by an experience of in¬
conveniences which have resulted from too low’ pitched
roofs; and their pitch Avili always be nearly such as
u its the climate and covering. Our architects, how¬
ever, go to work on different principles. Their pi*o-
l i 2 fessed
Roof.
4
Little at¬
tention
paid by
architects
to this part
of & build¬
ing.
Advantages
of a high-
pitched
roof.
G
Remark*,
on the
changes in
the pitch of
roofs.
II O' 0 [ 252 ] If O O
rio.f.
And of the
(ireek ar-
rliitecture
of them.
8
Difference
between
the ancient
Greeks and
modern
roofs;
fessed aim is to make a beautiful object. The sources
of the pleasures arising from what we call taste are so
various, so complicated, and even so whimsical, that it
is almost in vain to look for principle in the rules adopt¬
ed by our professed architects. We cannot help think¬
ing, that much of their practice results from a pedantic
veneration for the beautiful productions of Grecian ar¬
chitecture. Such architects as have written on the
principles of the art in respect of proportions, or what
they call the ordonnance, are very much puzaled to
make a chain of reasoning; and the most that they
have made of the Greek architecture is, that it exhibits
a nice adjustment of strength and strain. But when we
consider the extent of this adjustment, we find that it
is wonderfully limited. The whole of it consists of a
basement, a column, and an entablature ; and the en¬
tablature, it is tnie, exhibits something of a connection
with the framework and roof of a wooden building ;
and we believe that it really originated from this in the
hands of the orientals, from whom the Greeks certainly
borrowed their forms and their combinations. We
could easily show in the ruins of Persepolis, and among
the tombs in the mountains (which were long prior to
the Greek architecture), the fluted column, the base,
the Ionic and Corinthian capital, and the Doric ar¬
rangement of lintels, beams, and rafters, all derived
from unquestionable principle. The only addition
made by the Greeks was the pent roof: and the chan¬
ges made by them in the subordinate forms of things
are such as we should expect from their exquisite judge¬
ment of beauty.
But the whole of this is very limited : and the Greeks,
after making the roof a chief feature of a house, went
no farther, and contented themselves with giving it a
s’ope suited to their climate. This w'e have followed,
because in the milder parts of Europe we have no co¬
gent reason for deviating from it ; and if any architect
should deviate greatly in a building where the outline is
exhibited as beautiful, we should be disgusted ; but the
disgust, though felt by almost every spectator, has its
origin in nothing but habit. In the professed architect
or man of education, the disgust arises from pedantry:
for there is not such a close connection between the form
and uses of a roof as shall give precise determinations;
and the mere form is a matter of indifference.
We should not therefore reprobate the high-pitched
roots of our ancestors, particularly on the continent.
It is there where we see them in all the extremity of
the fashion, and the taste is by no means exploded as it
is with us. A. baronial castle in Germany and France
is seldom rebuilt in the pure Greek style, or even like
the modern houses in Britam; the high-pitched roofs
are retained. We should not call them Gothic, and
ugly because Gothic, till we show their principle to be
false or tasteless. Now we apprehend that it will be
found quite the reverse; and that though we cannot
bring ourselves to think them beautiful, we ought to
think them so. The construction of the Greek architec¬
ture is a transference of the practices that are necessary
in a Avooden building to a building of stone. To this
the Greeks have adhered, in spite of innumerable diffi¬
culties. Their marble quarries, however, put it in their
power to retain the proportions which habit had render¬
ed agreer.b e. But it is next to impossible to adhere to
the e prrponiotts with freestone or brick, w hen the or¬
der is of magnificent dimensions. Sir Christopher Wren
saw this; for his mechanical knowledge wras equal to
his taste. He composed the front of St Paul’s church
in London of two orders, and he coupled his columns;
and still the lintels which form thearchitrave are of such
length that they could carry no additional weight, and
he was obliged to truss them behind. Had he made but
one order, the architrave could not have carried its own
weight. It is impossib’e to exeute a Doric entablature
of this size in brick. It is attempted in a very noble
front, the academy of arts in St Petersburg}!. But the
architect was obliged to make the mulules and other
projecting members of the corniche of granite, and ma¬
ny of them broke down by their own weight.
Here is surely an error in principle. Since stone is an(j ^ J
the chief material of our buildings, ought not the mem- fectof^
hers of ornamented architecture to be refinements on using J
the essential and unaffected parts of a simple stone-
building. There is almost as much propriety in the ar¬
chitecture of India, where a dome is made in imitation
of a lily or other flower inverted, as in the Greek imi¬
tation of a wooden building. The principles of mason¬
ry, and not of carpentry, should be seen in our archi¬
tecture, if we would have it according to the rules of
just taste. Now we affirm that this is the characteristic
feature of what is called the Gothic architecture. In
this no dependence is had on the transverse strength of
stone. No lintels are to be seen ; no extravagant pro¬
jections. Every stone is pressed to its neighbours, and
none is exposed to a transverse strain. The Greeks were
enabled to execute theircolossal buildings only by using
immense blocks of the hardest materials. The Norman
mason could raise a building to theskies without using a
stone which a labourer could not carry to the top on his
back. Their architects studied the principles of equili¬
brium ; and having attained a wonderful knowledge of
it, they indulged themselves in exhibiting remarkable
instances. We call this false taste, and say that the ap¬
pearance of insecurity is the greatest fault. But this is
owing to our habits : our thoughts may be said to run
in a v/ooden train, and certain simple maxims of car¬
pentry are familiar to our imagination : and in the care-
tul adherence to these consist the beauty and symmetry
ofthe Greek architecture. Had we been as much ha¬
bituated to the equilibrium of pressure, thisapparentin-
security would not have met our eye : we would have
perceived the strength and we should have relished the
ingenuity. K
The (iothic architecture is perhaps intitled to the Ratim
name of rational architecture, and its beauty is founded nature c
on the characteristic distinction of our species. It de- j
serves cultivation: not the pitiful, servile, and un- ture. '
skilled copying of the monuments ; this will produce
incongruities and absurdities equal to any that have
crept into the Greek architecture :. but let us examine
with attention the nice disposition of the groins and
spaundrels; let us study the tracery and knots, not as
ornaments, but as useful members ; let us observe how
they have made their walls like honeycombs, and ad¬
mire tlieir ingenuity as we pretendtoadmirethe instinct
infused by the great Architect into the bee. All this
cannot be understood without mechanical knowledge; a
thing which few of our professional architects have any
share of. Thus would architectonic taste be a mark of
ski 1; and theperson whopresents thedesign of a build¬
ing
11 O 0 [ 253 ] R 0 0
; wf. ing would know how to execute it, w ithout committing
m it entirely to the mason and carpenter.
These observations are not a digression from our sub¬
ject. The same principles of mutual pressure and equi¬
librium have a place in roofs and many wooden edifices;
and if they had been as much studied as the Normans
and Saracens seem to have studied such of them as were
applicable to their purposes, we might have produced
wooden buildings as far superior to what wre are fami¬
liarly acquainted writh, as the bold and wonderful
churches still remaining in Europe are superior to the
timid productions of our stone architecture. The cen¬
tres used in building the bridge of Orleans and the
corn-market of Paris, are late instances of what may
be done in this way. The last mentioned is a dome of
200 feet diameter, built of fir planks; and there is not
a piece of timber in it more than nine feet long, a foot
[; 1 broad, and three inches thick.
T Nor- The Norman architects frequently roofed with stone.
hi archi- Their Avooden roofs were in general very simple, and
te 1 with ^eir professed aim wras to dispense with them altoge-
tj "1 1 ther. Fond of their own science they copied nothing
from a wooden building, and ran into a similar fault
with the ancient Greeks. The parts of their buildings
which were necessarily of timber were made to imitate
stone-buildings; and Gothic ornament consists in cram¬
ming every thing full of arches and spaundrels. No¬
thing else is to be seen in their timber wrorks, nay even
in their sculpture. Look at any of the maces or
sceptres still to be found about the old cathedrals; they
]0 are silver steeples.
f :ts”of But there appears to have been a rivalship in old
t* ival- times between the masons and the carpenters. Many
s be- of the baronial halls are of prodigious width, and are
ii m-'d roo^ec* timber: and the carpenters appeared to
t 'nters ^ave borrowed much knowledge from the masons of
o icient those times, and their wude roofs are frequently con-
1 s. structed with great ingenuity. Their aim, like the ma¬
sons, wras to throw a roof over a very w ide building
without employing great logs of timber. We have seen
roofs 60 feet wide, without having a piece of timber in
it above 10 feet long and 4 inches square. The Par¬
liament house and Tron-church of Edinburgh, and the
great hall of Tama way castle near Forres, are specimens
of those roofs. They are very numerous on the conti¬
nent. Indeed Britain retains few monuments of private
magnificence. Aristocratic state never was so great
with us ; and the rancour of our civil wrars gave most
of the performances of the carpenter to the flames.
Westminster-hall exhibits a specimen of the false taste
of the Norman roofs. It contains the essential parts in¬
deed, very properly disposed ; but they are hidden, or
intentionally covered, with what is conceived to be or¬
namental ; and this is an imitation of stone arches, cram¬
med in between slender pillars which hang down from
the principal frames, trusses, or rafters. In a pure Nor¬
man roof, such as Tama way-hall, the essential parts are
exhibited as things understood, and therefore relished.
They are refined and ornamented ; and it is here that
the inferior kind of taste or the want of it may appear.
And here we do not mean to defend all the whims of
our ancestors; but wre assert that it is no more necessary
to consider the members of a roof as things to be con¬
cealed like a garret or privy, than the members of a
ceiling, which form the most beautiful part of the
Greek architecture. Should it be said that a roof is Roof--
only a thing to keep off the rain, it may be answered, -y—
that a ceiling is only to keep off the dust, or the floor
to be trodden under foot, and that we should have nei¬
ther copartments in the qne nor inlaid work or carpets
on the other. The structure of a roof may therefore
be exhibited with propriety, and made an ornamental
feature. This has been done even in Italy. The church
of St Maria Maggiore in Home and several others are
specimens; but it must be acknowledged that the forms
of the principal frames of these roofs, which resemble
those of our modern buildings, are very unfit for agree¬
able ornament. As we have alreadyobserved,our imagi¬
nations have not been made sufficiently familiar with the
principles, and we are rather alarmed than pleased with
the appearance of the immense logs of timber which
form the couples of these roofs, and hang over our
heads w ith every appearance of Aveight and danger. It
is quite otherwise with the ingenious roofs of the Ger¬
man and Norman architects. Slender timbers, inter¬
laced wuth great symmetry, and throw7n by necessity in¬
to figures which are naturally pretty, form altogether
an object which no carpenter can view' without pleasure..
And why should the gentleman refuse himself the same
pleasure of beholding scientific ingenuity ? 13
The roof is in fact the part of the building which Necessity
requires the greatest degree of skill, and Avhei'e science ?n ^r'en-ce
w'ill be of more service than in any other part. The roofs.
architect seldom knows much of the matter, and leaves
the task to the carpenter. The carpenter considers the
framing of a great roof as the touchstone of his art; and
nothing indeed tends so much to shoAV his judgment and
his fertility of resource.
It must therefore be very acceptable to the artist to
have a clear view of the principles by w hich this diffi¬
cult problem may be solved in the best manner, so that -
the roof may have all the strength and security that
can be Avished for, Avithout an extravagant expence of
timber and iron. We have said that mechanical science
can give great assistance in this matter. We may add
that the framing of carpentry, wdrether for roofs, floors,
or any other purpose, affords one of the most elegant
and most satisfactory applications which can be made
of mechanical science to the ai*ts of common life. Un- l t
fortunately the practical artist is seldom possessed even ana the
of the small portion of science which would almost in- little »t-
sure his practice from all risk of failure ; and CA'en our tendon In¬
most experienced carpenters have seldom any more thert0 P
knowdedge than what arises from their experience and
natural sagacity. The most approved author in our
language is Price in his British Carpenter. Mathurin
Jousse is in like manner the author most in repute in
France ; and the publications of both these authors are
void of every appearance of principle. It is not un¬
common to see the Avorks of carpenters of the greatest
reputation tumble down, in consequence of mistakes
from which the most elementary knowledge would
have saved them. ,1,5
We shall attempt, in this article, to give an account Purpose
of the leading principles of this art in a manner so fami- t*1‘s ar-
liar andpalpable.that anyperson who knoAvs the common tule‘
properties of the leA'er, and the composition of motion,
shall so far understand them as to be able, on every oc¬
casion, so to dispose his materials, with respect to the
strains to Avkich they are to be exposed, that he shall
always
l! 0 O
[ 254 ] K 0 O
Koof. always known the effective strain on every piece, ami
'“V***-^ shall, in most cases, be able to make the disposition such
as to derive the greatest possible advantage from the
10 materials which he employs.
Principles jf is evident that the whole must depend on the prin-
^ulate the c’P^es which regulate the strength of the materials, re-
stren-nh of lative to the manner in which this strength is exerted,
the mate- and the manner in which the strain is laid on the piece
tyrls. of matter. With respect to the first, this is not the
proper place for considering it, and we must refer the
reader to the article Strength of Materials in Mecha~
nics. We shall just borrow from that article twy or
three propositions suited to our purpose.
The force with which the materials of our edifices,
roofs, floors, machines, and framings of every kind re¬
sist being broken or crushed, or pulled asunder, is im¬
mediately or ultimately, the cohesion of their particles.
When a weight hangs by a rope, it tends either imme¬
diately to break all the fibres, overcoming the cohesion
among the particles of each, or it tends to pull one
parcel of them from among the rest, with which they
are joined. This union of the fibres is brought about
by some kind of gluten, or by twisting, which causes
them to bind each other so hard that any one will
break rather than come out, so much is it withheld by
friction. The ultimate resistance is therefore the cohe¬
sion of the fibre; the force or strength of all fibrous
materials, such as timber, is exerted in much the same
manner. The fibres are either broken or pulled out
from among the rest. Metals, stone, glass, and the
like, resist being pulled asunder by the simple cohesion
of the ir parts.
The force which is necessary for breaking a rope or
wire is a proper measure of its strength. In like man¬
ner, the force necessary for tearing directly asunder any
rod of wood or metal, breaking all its fibres, or tearing
them from among each other, is a proper measure
of the united strength of all these fibres. Ami it
is the simplest strain to which they can be exposed,
being just equal to the sum of the forces necessary
for breaking or disengaging each fibre. And, if the
body is not of a fibrous structure, which is the case
with metals, stones, glass, ami many other substances,
this force is still equal to the simple sum of the co¬
hesive forces of each particle which is separated by the
fracture.. Let us distinguish this mode of exertion of
the cohesion of the body by the name of its Absolute
Stuength.
W hen solid bodies are, on the contrary, exposed to
great compression, they can resist only a certain de¬
gree. A piece of clay or lead will be squeezed out;
a piece of freestone will be crushed to powder ; a beam
of wood will be crippled, swelling out in the middle,
and its fibres lose their mutual cohesion, after which it
is easily crushed by the load. A notion may be form¬
ed of the manner in which these strains are resisted by
conceiving a cylindrical pipe filled with small shot, well
shaken together, so that each sphericle is lying in the
closest manner possible, that is, in contact wilh six
others in the same vertical plane (this being the posi¬
tion in which the shot will take the least room). Thus
each touches the rest in six points: Now suppose them
all united, in these six points only, by some cement.
This assemblage will stick together and forma cylindri¬
cal pillar, which may be taken out of its mould. Sup¬
pose this pillar standing upright, and loaded above. Jkof.
The supports arising from the cement act obliquely, -y-,
and the load tends either to force them asunder late¬
rally, or to make them slide on each other : either of
these things happening, the whole is crushed to pieces.
The resistance of fibrous materials to such a strain is a
little more intricate, but may be explained in a way
very similar.
A piece of matter of any kind may also be destroyed
by wrenching or twisting it. W7e can easily form a
notion of its resistance to this kind of strain by consi¬
dering what would happen to the cylinder of small shot
if treated in this way.
And lastly, a beam, or a bar of metal, or piece of
stone cr other matter, may be broken transversely.
This will happen to a rafter or joist supported at the
ends when overloaded, or to a beam having one end
stuck fast in a wall and a load laid on its projecting
part This is the strain to which materials are most
commonly exposed in roofs ; and, unfortunately, it is
the strain which they are the least able to bear; or ra¬
ther it is the manner of application which causes an ex¬
ternal force to excite the greatest possible immediate
strain on the particles. It is against this that the car¬
penter must chiefly guard, avoiding it when in his
power, anti in every case, diminishing it as much as j-
possible. It is necessary to give the reader a clear no- Their
tion of the great weakness of materials in relation weakness ;
to this transverse strain. But we shall do nothing m relatio i
more, referring him to the articles Strain, Stress/01™1"
and Strength. ^
Let A BCD (fig. 1.) represent the side of a beam pro- Plate
jecting horizontally from a wall in which it is firmly cccclx.|
fixed, and let it be loaded with a weight W appended
to its extremity. 1 his tends to break it; and the least
reflection will convince any person that if the beam is
equally strong throughout, it will break in the line CD,
even with the surface of the wall. It will open at D,
while C will serve as a sort of jo.nt, round which it w ill
turn. The cross section through the line CD is, for
this reason, called the section offracture, and the hori¬
zontal line, drawn through C on its under surface, is
called the axis of fracture. The fracture is made by
tearing asunder the fibres, such as DE or FG. Let us
suppose a real joint at C, and that the beam is really
sawed through along CD, and that in place of its natu-
lal fibres threads are substituted all over the section of
fracture. I he weight now tends to break these threads ;
and it is our business to find the force necessary for this
purpose.
It is evident that DCA may be considered as a bend¬
ed lever, of which C is the fulcrum. If/ be the force
which will just balance the cohesion of a thread when
hung on it so that the smallest addition will bre ik it,
we may find the weight which will be sufficient for this
purpose when hung on at A, by saying, AC : CD
: ar*d will be the weight which will just break
the thread, by hanging 9 by the point A. This gives
lls ?=/ If the weight be hung on at a, the
fcrce^just sufficient for breaking the same thread will he
J C~a* manrier the force <p, which must be
hung on at A .in order to break an equally strong or an
equally
11 0 0 [ 255 ] R O O
CF
. equally resisting fibre at F, must be —fx — And
so on all of the re'-'t.
If we suppose all the fibres to exert equal resistances
at the instant of fracture, we know, from the simplest
e’ements of mechanics, that the resistance of all the par¬
ticles in the line CD, each acting equally in its own
jdace, is the same as if all the individual resistances were
united in the middle point g. Now this total resistance
is the resistance or strength jfof e tch particle, multiplied
by the number of particles. This number may be ex¬
pressed by the line CD, because we have no reason to
suppose tint they are at unequal distances Therefore,
in comparing different sections together, the number of
particles in each are as the sections themselves. There¬
fore DC may represent the number of particles in the
line DC. Let us call this line the depth of the beam,
and express it by the symbol d. And since we are at
present treating of roofs whose rafters and other parts
are commonly of uniform breadth, let us call AH or
BI the breadth of the beam, and express it by b, and
let CA be called its length, l We may now express
the strength of the whole line CD by fxd, and we
may suppose it all concentrated in the middle point g.
Its mechanical energy, therefore, by which it resists
the energy of the weight iv, applied at the distance l,
is /.CD. C g, while the momentum of w is w. CA.
We must therefore have/i CD. Cg—W. CA, or/d. \ d
— w. I, and/ d : w—l : \ d, orf d : iv=2 l: d. That
is, twice the length of the beam is to its depth as the
absolute strength of one of its vertical planes to its re¬
lative strength, or its power of resisting this transverse
fracture.
It is evident, that what has been now demonstrated
of the resistance exerted in the line CD, is equally true
of every line parallel to CD in the thickness or breadth
of the beam. The absolute strength of the whole sec¬
tion of fracture is properly represented by/ d. b, and
we still have 2 l: d—f d b: w; or twice the length of
the beam is to its depth as the absolute strength to the
relative strength. Suppose the beam 12 feet long and
one foot deep ; then whatever be its absolute strength,
the 24'th part of this will break it if lumg at its extre¬
mity.
But even this is too favourable a statement; all the
fibres are supposed to act alike in the instant of frac¬
ture. But this is not true. At the instant that the
fibre at D breaks, it is stretched to the utmost, and is
exerting its whole force. But at this instant the fibre
at g is not so much stretched, and it is not then exert¬
ing its utmost force. If we suppose the extension of
the fibres to be as their distance from C, and the actual
exertion of each to be as their extensions, it may easily
be shown (see Sthength and Strain), that the whole
resistance is the same as if the full force of all the fibres
were united at a point r distant from C by one-third of
CD. In this case we must say, that the absolute
strength is to the relative strength as three times the
length to the depth ; so that the beam is weaker than
by the former statement in the proportion of two to
three.
Even this is more strength than experiment justifies ;
and we can see an evident reason for it. When the
beam is strained, not only are the upper fibres stretched,
but the lower fibres are compressed. This is very di¬
stinctly seen, if we attempt to break a piece of Cork cut
into the shape of a beam: this being the case, C is not
the centre of fracture. There is some point c which lies
between the fibres which are stretched and those that
are compressed. This fibre is neither stretched nor
squeezed ; and this point is the real centre of fracture :
and the lever by which a fibre D resists, is not DC, hut
a shorter one D c; and the energy of the whole resist¬
ances must be less than by the second statement. Till
We know the proportion between the dilatability and
compressibility of the parts, and the relation between
the dilatations of the fibres and the resistances which
they exert in this state of dilatation, we cannot positive¬
ly say where the point c is situated, nor what is the sum
of the actual resistances, or the point where their action
may be supposed concentrated. The firmer woods, such
as oak and chesnut, may be supposed to be but slightly
compressible; we know that willow and other soft
woods are very compressible. These last must therefore
be weaker : for it is evident, that the fibres which are
in a state of compression do not resist the fracture. It is
well known, that a beam of willow may be cut through
from C to g without weakening it in the least, if the
cut be filled up by a wedge of hard wood stuck in.
We can only say, that very sound oak and red fir
have the centre of effort so situated, that the absolute
strength is to the relative strength in a proportion not
less than that of three and a half times the length of
the beam to its depth. A square inch of sound oak will
carry about 8000 pounds. If this bar be firmly fixed
in a wall, and project 12 inches, and be loaded at the
ex'remity with 200 pounds, it will be broken. It will
just bear ] 90, its relative strength being ^ of its abso¬
lute strength; and this is the case only with the finest
pieces, so placed that their annual plates or layers are in
a vertical position. A larger log is not so strong trans¬
versely, because its plates lie in various directions round
the heart. jg
These observations are enough to give us a distinct Practical
notion of the vast diminut ion of the strength of timber Inferences,
when the strain is across it; and we see the justice of
the maxim which we inculcated, that the carpenter, in
framing roofs, should avoid as much as possible the ex¬
posing his timbers to transverse strains. But this cannot
be avoided in all cases. Nay, the ultimate strain arising
from the very nature of a roof, is transverse. The raft¬
ers must carry their own weight,and this tends to break
them across : an oak beam a foot deep will not carry its
own weight if it project more than 60 feet. Besides
this, the rafters must carry the lead, tyling, or slates.
We must therefore consider this tranverse strain a little
more particularly, so as to know what strain will be laid
on any part by an unavoidable load, laid on either at
that part or at any other. ]f>
We have hitherto supposed, that the beam had one Effect when
of its ends fixed in a wail, and that it was loaded at the beam* arc
other end. This is not an usual arrangement, and was
taken merely as affording a simple application of the and loatlc(1
mechanical principles. It is much more usual to have in the mid-
th e beam supported at the ends, and leaded in the die, «Sec.
middle. Let the beam FEGH (fig. 2.) rest on the
props E and G, and be loaded at its n iddie point C
with a weight W. It is required to determine the
strain at the section CD? It is plain that the beam will
receive the same support, and suffer the same strain, if,
instead
n o o
[ 256 J
R 0 O
T’nof. insteail of the blocks E and G, we substitute the ropes
E f e, G hff, going over the pulleys /'and g, and load¬
ed with proper weights e and g. The weight e is equal
to the support given by the block E ; and g is equal to
the support given by G. The sum of e and g is equal
to W ; and on whatever point W is hung, the weights
e and g are to W in the proportion of DG and DE
to GE. Now, in this state of things, it appears
that the strain on the section CD arises immediately
from the upward action of the ropes F / and H h, or
the upward pressions of the blocks E and G; and that
the office of the weight W is to oblige the beam to op¬
pose this strain. Things are in the same state rn respect
of strain as if a block were substituted at D for the
weight W, and the weights e and g were hung on at
E and G ; only the directions will be opposite. The
beam tends to break in the section CD, because the
ropes pull it upwards at E and G, while a weight W
holds it down at C. It tends to open at D, and C be¬
comes the centre of fracture. The strain therefore is
the same as if the half ED were fixed in the wall, and
a weight equal to g, that is, to the half of W, were
hung on at G.
Hence we conclude, that a beam supported at both
ends, but not fixed there, and loaded in the middle,
will carry twice as much weight as it can carry at its
extremity, when the other extremity is fast in a wall.
The strain occasioned at any point L by a weight
W, hung on at any other point D, is = W x
DE
jV^xLG. For EG is to ED as W to the pressure
occasioned at G. This would be balanced by some
weight g acting over the pulley h ; and this tends to
break the beam at L, by acting on the lever GL. The
DE
pressure at G is W. — , and therefore the strain at L
±!i vJ
is W.
rlL&
In like manner, the strain occasioned at the point
DE
D by the weight W hung on there, is W x DG;
E G
which is therefore equal to | W, when D is the middle
point.
Hence we see, that the general strain on tire beam
arising from one weight, is proportionable to the rect¬
angle of the parts of the beam, (for
W.DE.DG.
—EG—1S
DE.DG), and is greatest when the load is laid on the
middle of the beam.
We also see, that the strain at L, by a load at D, is
equal to the strain at D by the same load at L. And
the strain at L, from a load at D, is to the strain by the
same load at L as DE to LE. These are all very ob¬
vious corollaries ; and they sufficiently inform us con¬
cerning the strains which are produced on any part of
the timber by a load laid on any other part.
If we now suppose the beam to be fixed at the two
ends, that is, firmly framed, or held down by blocks at
I and K, placed beyond E and G, or framed into posts,
it w ill carry twice as much as when its ends were free.
For suppose it sawn through at CD ; the weight W
hung on there will be just sufficient to break it at E and
G. Now restore the connection of the section CD, it
Roof.
O-W
will require another weight W to break it there at the
same time.
Therefore, when a rafter, or any piece of timber, is
firmly connected with three fixed points, G, E, I, it wall
bear a greater load between any two of them than if its
connection with the remote point were removed ; and if
it bo fastened in four points, G, E, I, K, it will be twice
as strong in the middle part as without the two remote
connections.
One is apt to expect from this that the joist of a floor
will be much strengthened by being firmly built in the
wall. It is a little strengthened ; but the hold which
can thus be given it is much too short to be of any sen¬
sible service, and it tends greatly to shatter the wall,
because, when it is bent down by a load, it forces up
the wall with a momentum of a long lever. Judicious
builders therefore take care not to bind the joists tight
in the w^all. But w hen the joists of adjoining rooms lie
in the same direction, it is a great advantage to make
them of one piece. They are then twice as strong as
when made in tw o lengths. j()
It is easy to deduce from these premises the strain on Inferen
any point v\ hich arises from the weight of the beam it¬
self, or from any load wffiich is uniformly diffused over
the whole or any part. We may always consider the
whole of the weight which is thus uniformly diffused
over any part as united in the middle point of that
part; and if the load is not uniformly diffused, wre may
still suppose it united at its centre of gravity. Thus,
to know the strain at D arising from the weight of the
whole beam, we may suppose the whole weight accu¬
mulated in its middle point D. Also the strain at L,
arising from the weight of the part ED, is the same as
if this weight were accumulated in the middle point d
of ED; and it is the same as if half the weight of ED
were hung on at D. For the real strain at L is the
upward pressure at G, acting by the lever GL. Now
call the weight of the part DE e ; this upward pressure
exdE 44'XDE
EG
wdll be
EG,
-, or-
Therefore the strain on the middle of a beam, ari¬
sing from its own weight, or from any uniform load, is
E D
the w'eight of the beam or its load x X DG; that
E G
is, half the weight of the beam or load multiplied or
ED
acting by the lever DG ; for is £.
E G
Also the strain at L, arising from the weight of the
beam, or the uniform load, is t the weight of the beam
or load acting by the lever LG. It is therefore propor¬
tional to LG, and is greatest of all at D. Therefore a
beam of uniform strength throughout, uniformly load¬
ed, will break in the middle. %\
It is of importance to know the relation betw'een Relation
the strains arising from the weights of the beams, or between
from any uniformly diffused load, and the relative tiie we!^'
strength. We have already seen, that the relative ^ ^ r
. Stdb d , . , , btive
strength is § —, where m is a number to be disco- strength
,/ m l
vered by experiment for every different species of mate¬
rials. Leaving out every circumstance but what de¬
pends on the dimensions of the beam, viz. d, b, and /,
wre'
ROD [ 257 ] R O 0
:>f. we see that the relative strength is in the proportion of
15/
—1’ that is, as the breadth and the square of the depth
directly and the length inversely.
Now', to consider first the strain arising from the
weight of the beam itself, it is evident that this weight
increases in the same proportion with the depth, the
breadth, and the length of the beam. Therefore its
power of resisting this strain must be as its depth direct¬
ly, and the square of its length inversely. To consider
this in a more popular manner, it is plain that the in¬
crease of breadth makes no change in the power of re¬
sisting the actual strain, because the load and the abso¬
lute strength increase in the same proportion with the
breadth. But, by increasing the depth, tve increase the
resisting section in the same proportion, and therefore
the number of resisting fibres and the absolute strength:
but wre also increase the weight in the same propor¬
tion. This makes a compensation, and the relative
strength is yet the same. But, by increasing the depth,
we have not only increased the absolute strength, but
also its mechanical energy : For the resistance to frac¬
ture is the same as if the full strength of each fibre was
exerted at the point which we called the centre of ef¬
fort ; and we showed, that the distance of this from the
un derside of the beam was a certain portion (a half, a
third, a fourth, &c.) of the whole depth of the beam.
This distance is the arm of the lever by Avhich the co¬
hesion of the wood may be supposed to act. Therefore
this arm of the lever, and consequently the energy of
the resistance, increases in the proportion of the depth
of the beam, and this remains uncompensated by any
increase of the strain. On the w'hole, therefore, the
power of the beam to sustain its own weight increases
in the proportion of its depth. But, on the other
hand, the power of withstanding a given strain applied
at its extremity, or to any aliquot part of its length,
is diminished as the length increases, or is inversely as
the length ; and the strain arising from the weight
of the beam also increases as the length. Therefore
the power of resisting the strain actually exerted on it
by the wreight of the beam is inversely as the square of
the length. On the whole, therefore, the power of a
beam to carry its own wreight. varies in the proportion of
its depth directly and the square of its length inversely.
As this strain is frequently a considerable part of the
whole, it is proper to consider it apart, and then to rec¬
kon only on what remains for the support of any extra-
12 neons load.
■ of a In the next place, the power of a beam to carry any
to load which is uniformly diffused over its length, must
;,oad be inversely as the square of the length : for the power
3(j of withstanding any strain applied to an ahquot part
u of the length (which is the case here, because the load
u may be conceived as accumulated at its centre of gra¬
vity, the middle point of the beam) is inversely as
the length ; and the actual strain is as the length, and
therefore its momentum is • s the square of the length.
Therefore the power of a beam to carry a weight uni¬
formly diffused over it is inversely as the square of the
length. A. B. It is here understood, that the uniform
load is of some determined quantity for every foot of
the length, so that a beam of double length carries a
double load. -
We have hitherto supnosed that the forces which
Vol. XVIII. Part 1.
tend to break a beam transversely, are acting in a d.'rec- Root,
tion perpendicular to the beam. This is always the
case in level floors loaded in any manner ; but in roofs, j,;{fect w]ien
the action of the load tending to break the rafters is ob- the action
lique, because gravity always acts in vertical lines. It of the load
may also frequently happen, that a beam is strained by “ oblique,
a force acting obliquely. This modification of the
strain is easily discussed. Suppose that the external
force, which is measured by the weight W in fig. 1.
acts in the direction A «/ instead of AW. Draw C a
perpendicular to A tv. Then the momentum of this
external force is not to be measured by W x AC, but
by W C. The strain therefore by which the fibres
in the section of fracture DC are torn asunder, is di¬
minished in the proportion of CA to C a, that is, in
the proportion of radius to the sine of the angle CAa,
which the beam makes with the direction of the exter¬
nal force.
To apply this to our purpose in the most familiar
manner, let AB (fig. 3.) be an oblique rafter of a build- Fig. 3.
ing, loaded with a weight W suspended to any point
C, and thereby occasioning a strain in some part D.
We have already seen, that the immediate cause of the
strain on D is the reaction of the support which is gi¬
ven to the point B. The rafter may at present be con¬
sidered as a lever, supported at A, and pulled down by
the line CW. This occasions a pressure on B, and the
support acts in the opposite direction to the action of
the lever, that is, in the direction B b, perpendicular to
BA. This tends to break the beam in every part.
. Wrx AE
The pressure exerted at B is  —, AE being a
AB
horizontal line.' Therefore the strain at D will be
—— x BD. Had the beam been lying horizon-
AB ^ 0
tally, the strain at D, from the weight W suspended at
W AC
C, would have been—1 xBD. It is therefore di-
AB
minished in the proportion of AC to AE, that is, in
the proportion of radius to the cosine of the elevation,
or in the proportion of the secant of elevation to the
radius.
It is evident, that this law of diminution of the strain
is the same whether the strain arises from a load on any
part of the rafter, or from the weight of the rafter it¬
self, or from any load uniformly diffused over its length,
provided only that these loads act in vertical lines.
We can now compare the strength of roofs which 24
have different elevations. Supposing the width of the ct>
building to be given, and that the weight of a square J ^^tt-
yard of covering is also given. Then, because the load eleva-
on the rafter will increase in the same proportion with tion* com-
its length, the load on the slant-side BA of the roof pared,
will be to the load of a similar covering on the half AF
of the flat roof, of the s-une width, as AB to AF.
But the transverse action of any load on AB, by which
it tends to break it is to that of the same load on AF
as AF to AB. The transverse strain therefore is the
same on both, the increase of real load on AB being
compensated by the obliquity of its action. But the
strengths of beams to resist equal strains, applied to si¬
milar points, or uniformly diffused over them, are in¬
versely as their lengths, because the n omentum or ener¬
gy of the strain is proportional to the length. There-
t K k fore
II O* O [ 258 ] II O 0
fore the power of AB to withstand the strain to which
it is really exposed, is to the power of AF to resist its
strain as AF to AB. If, therefore, a rafter AG of a
certain scantling is just able to carry the roofing laid
on it, a rafter AB of the same scantling, but more
elevated, will be too weak in the proportion of AG to
AB. Therefore steeper roofs require stouter rafters, in
order that they may be equally able to carry a roofing
of equal weight per square yard. To be equally strong,
they must be made broader, or placed nearer to each
other, in the proportion of their greater length, or they
must be made deeper in the subduplicate proportion of
their length. The following easy construction will en¬
able the artist not familiar with computation to propor¬
tion the depth of the rafter to the slope of the roof.
Let the horizontal line af (fig. 4.) be the pioper
depth of a beam whose length is half the width of the
building; that is, such as would make it fit for carry¬
ing the intending tiling laid on a flat roof. Draw the
vertical line fb, and the line ab having the elevation
of the rafter; make ag equal to a f and describe the
semicircle h d g ; draw a d perpendicular to a b, a d is
the required depth. The demonstration is evident.
We have now' treated in sufficient detail, what relates
to the chief strain on the component parts of a roof,
namely, what tends to break them transversely; and we
have enlarged more on the subject than what the pre¬
sent occasion indispensably required, because the propo¬
sitions which we have demonstrated are equally appli¬
cable to all framings of carpentry, and are even of great¬
er moment in many cases, particularly in the construc¬
tion of machines, d hese consist of levers in various
forms, which are strained transversely; and similar strains
frequently occur in many of the supporting and connec¬
ting parts. We shall give in the article Timber, an
account of the experiments which have been made by
different naturalists, in order to ascertain the absolute
strength of some of the materials which are most gene¬
rally framed together in buildings and engines. ^ The
house-carpenter will draw from them absolute numbers,
which he can apply to his particular purposes by
means of the propositions which w'e have now esta¬
blished.
\v e Proceed, in the next place, to consider the other
strains to which the parts of roofs are exposed, in con¬
sequence of the support which they mutually give each
other, and the pressures (or l/irusts as they are called in
the language of the house-carpenter) which they exert
on each otner, and on the wralls or piers of the build-
ing.
Let a beam or piece of timber AB (fig. 5.) be sus¬
pended by two lines AC, BD ; or let it'be supported
by two props AE, BF, which are perfectly moveable
round their remote extremities E, F, or let it rest on the
two polished planes KAH, LBM. Moreover, let G
be the centre of gravity of the beam, and let GN be a
line through the centre of gravity perpendicular to the
horizon. The beam will not be in equilibrio unless the
vertical line GN either passes through P, the point in
which the directions of the two lines AC, BD, or the
directions of the two props EA, FD, or the perpendi¬
culars to the two planes KAH, LBM intersect each
other, or is parallel to these directions. For the sup¬
ports given by the lines or props are unquestionably ex¬
erted m the direction of their lengths; and it L as well
known in mechanics that the supports given by planes Roof
are exerte 1 in a direction perpendicular to those planes
in the poin's of contact; and we know that the weight
of the beam acts in the same manner as f it were all
accumulated in its centre of gravity G, and that it acts
in the direction GN perpendicular to the horizon.
Moreover, when a body is in equilibrio between three
forces, they are acting in one plane, and their directions
are either parallel or they pass through one point.
The support given to the beam is therefore the same
as if it were suspended by two lines which are attached
to the single point P. We may also infer, that the
points of suspension C, D, the points of support, E, F
the points of contact A. B, and the centre of gravity
G, are all in one vertical plane.
When this position of the beam is disturbed by any
external force, there must either be a motion of the
points A and B round the centres of suspension C and
D, or of the props round these points of support E and
F, or a sliding of the ends of the beam along the po¬
lished planes GH and IK ; and in consequence of these
motions the centre of gravity G will go out of its place,
and the vertical line GN will no longer pass through
the point where the directions of the supports intersect
each other. If the centre of gravity rises by this mo¬
tion, the body will have a tendency to recover its form¬
er position, and it will require force to keep it away
from it. In this case the equilibrium may be said to
be dable, or the body to have stability. But if the cen¬
tre of gravity descends when the body is moved from
the position of equilibrium, it will tend to move still
farther; and so far will it be from recovering its former
position, that it will now fall. 1 his equilibrium may be
called a tottering equilibrium. These accidents depend on
the situations of the points A, B, C, D, E, F ; and they
may be determined by considering the subject geome-
tiically. It does not much interest us at present; it is
rarely that the equilibrium of suspension is tottering, or
that of props is stable. It is evident, that if the beam
were suspended by lines from the point P, it would
have sianility, for it would sw ing like a pendulum round
P, and therefore would always tend towards the position
Oi equilibrium. The intersection of the lines of support
would still be at P, and the vertical line drawn through
the centre of gravity, when in any other situation^
w ould be on that side of P towards which this centre
has been moved. Therefore, by the rules of pendulou s
bodies, it tends to come back, d his would be more
remarkably the case if the points of suspension C and
D be on the same side of the point P with the points of
attachment A and L, for in this case the new point of
intei section of the lines of support would shift to the
opposite side, and be still farther from the vertical line
through the new position of the centre of gravity. But
if the points of suspension and of attachment are on op¬
posite sides of P, the new point of intersection may shift
to the same side with the centre of gravity, and lie be.
yond the vertical line; in this case the equilibrium is
tottering. It is easy to perceive, too, that if the equi¬
librium of suspension from the points C and D be stable,
the equilibrium on the props AE and BF must be tot¬
tering. It is not necessary for our present purpose to
engage more particularly in this discussion.
!t is plain that, with respect to the mere momentary
equiiibiimn, there is no difference in the support by
threads.
■I
11 O O [ 259 ] HOC
threads, or props, or planes, and we may substitute the
one for the other. We shall find this substitution ex¬
tremely useful, because we easily conceive distinct no¬
tions of the support of a body by strings.
Observe farther, that if the whole figure be inverted,
and strings be substituted for props, and props for
strings, the equilibrium will still obtain : for by com¬
paring fig. 5. with fig. 6. we see that the vertical line
through the centre of gravity will pass through the in¬
tersection of the two strings or props; and this is all
that is necessary for the equilibrium ; only it must be
observed in the substitution of props for threads, and
of threads for props, that if it be done without invert¬
ing the whole figure, a stable equilibrium becomes a
tottering one, and vice versa.
This is a most useful proposition, especially to the un¬
lettered artisan, and enables him to make a practical
use of pi’oblems which the greatest mechanical geniuses
have found no easy task to solve. An instance will
show the extent and utility of it. Suppose it were re¬
quired to make a mansard or kirb roof whose width is
AB (fig. 7.), and consisting of the four equal rafters
AC, CD, DE, EB. There can be no doubt but that
its best form is that which will put all the parts in equi-
librio, so that no ties or stays may be necessary for op¬
posing the unbalanced thrust of any part of it. Make
a chain a c d eb (fig. 8.) of four equal pieces, loosely
connected by pin-joints, round which the parts are per¬
fectly moveable. Suspend this from two pins a, b, fix¬
ed in a horizontal line This chain or festoon will ar¬
range itself in such a form that its parts are in equili-
brio. Then we know that if the figure be inverted, it
will compose the frame or truss of a kirb-roof a y d z b,
which is also in equilibro, the thrusts of the pieces ba¬
lancing each other in the same manner that the mutual
pulls of the hanging festoon a c d eb did. If the pro¬
portion of the height d f to the width a b is not such as
pleases, let the pins a, b be placed nearer or more di¬
stant, till a proportion between the width and height is
obtained which pleases, and then make the figure
ACDEB, fig. 7- similar to it. It is evident that this
proposition will apply in the same manner to the deter¬
mination of the form of an arch of a bridge ; but this is
not a proper place for a farther discussion.
We are now able to compute all the thrusts and other
pressures which are exerted by the parts of a roof on
each other and on the walls. Let AR(fig. 9.) be a
beam standing anyhow obliquely, and G its centre of
gravity. Let us suppose that the ends of it are sup¬
ported in any directions 4.C, BD, by strings, props,
or planes. Let these directions meet in the point P of
the vertical line P( > passing through its centre of gra¬
vity. Through G draw lines G a, G 6 parallel to PB,
PA. Then
The weight of the beam f PG
T he pressure orthrust at A > are proportional to< P a
The pressure at B I ^ P6.
For when a body is in equdibrio between threeforces,
these forces are proportional to the sides of a triangle
which have their directions.
In like manner, if A g be drawn parallel to P 6, we
shall have
Weight of the beam 1 i P g
Thrust on A a proportional to < PA
Thrust on B J (B g
Or, drawing B 7 parallel to P a
Weight of beam }
Thrust at A
Thrust at B
27
The proper
. f1''/
V are proportional to B 7 '
- — . ) < (PB - -
It cannot be disputed that, if strength alone be con-
sidered, the proper form of a roof is that which puts the which puts
whole in equilibrio, so that it would remain in that the whole
shape although all the joints were perfectly loose or in equili-
flexible. If it has any other shape, additional ties or k110’
braces are necessary for preserving it, and the parts are
unnecessarily strained. When this equilibrium is ob¬
tained, the rafters which compose the roof are all acting
on each other in the direction of their lengths ; and by
this action, combined with their weights, they sustain
no strain but that of compression, the strain of ail others
that they are the most able to resist. We may consider
them as so many inflexible lines having their weights
accumulated in their centres of gravity. But it will al¬
low an easier investigation of the subject, if we suppose
the weights to be at the joints, equal to the real verti¬
cal pressures which are exerted on these points. These
are very easily computed; for it is plain, that the weight
of the beam AB (fig. 9.) is to the part of this weight
that is supported at B as AB to AG. Therefore, if
W represent the weight of the beam, the vertical pres¬
sure atB will be W and the vertical pressure at
AB
KG
A will be W x In like manner, the prop BF
being considered as another beam, and/as its centre of
gravity and w as its weight, a part of this weight, equal
to 7V X& is supported at B, and the whole vertical
And thus we
BF
pressure at B is W x —~ -f-w X —
AB BE
greatly simplify the consideration of the mutual thrusts
of roof frames. We need hardly observe, that although
these pressures by which the parts of a frame support
each other in opposition to the vertical action of gravi-
ty, are always exerted in the direction of the pieces,
they may be resolved into pressures acting in any other
direction which may engage our attention.
All that we propose to deliver on this subject at pre¬
sent may be included in the following proposition.
Let ABODE (fig. 10.) be an assemblage of rafters Fig, 10,
in a vertical plane, resting on two fixed points A and
E in a horizontal line, and perfectly moveable round all
the joints A, B, C, D, E ; and let it be supposed to be
in equdibrio, and let us investigate what adjustment of
the different circumstances of weight and inclination of
its different parts is necessary for producing this equili¬
brium.
Let F, G, H, I, be the centi-es of gravity of the
different rafters, and let these letters express theweights
of each. Then (by whathas been saidabove) the weight
which presses B directly downwards is F x~- + G x
AB
The weight on C is in like manner G4-_L'f4-
BG ' ^ ~BC
H x and that on D is II x -fl X —-
CD CD DE
Let A b c d E be the figure ABCDE inverted, in
the manner already described. It may be conceived as
a thread fastened at A and E, and loaded at b, c and
Kk2 ; d
Roof.
E 0 O
[ 260 ]
It 0*0
d with the weights which are really pressing on B, C,
and D. It will arrange itself into such a term that all
will be in equilibrio. We may discover this form by
means of this single consideration, that any part 6 c of
the thread is equally stretched throughout in the di¬
rection of its length. Let us therefore investigate the
proportion between the weight /3, which we suppose to
be pulling the point 6 in the vertical direction 6 f3, to the
weight 5, which is pulling down the point d in a similar
manner. It is evident, that since AE is a horizontal
line, and the figures A 6c d E and ABCDE equal and
similar, the lines B 6, Cc, D d, are vertical. Take 6 f
to represent the weight hanging at b. By stretching
the threads b A and 6 c it is set in opposition to the con¬
tractile powers of the threads, acting in the directions
b A and b c, and it is in immediate equilibrio with the
equivalent of these two contractile forces. Therefore
make b g equal to b fy and make it the diagonal of a
parallelogram h b ig. It is evident that b h, b i, are the
forces exerted by the threads 6 A, be. Then, seeing
that the thread b c is equally stretched in both direc¬
tions, make c k equal to 6 ; c k is the contractile force
which is excited at c by the weight which is hanging
there. Draw k l parallel to c d, and I m parallel to b c.
The force Ze is the equivalent of the contractile forces
c k, c m, and is therefore equal and opposite to the force
of gravity acting at C. In like manner, make d n—c m,
and complete the parallelogram ?i d po, having the ver¬
tical line o d for its diagonal. Then d n and d p are the
contractile forces excited at d, and the weight hanging
there must be equal to o d.
Therefore, the load at b is to the load at d as 6 g to
do. But we have seen that the compressing forces at
B, C, D may be substituted for the extending forces at
b,c, d. Therefore the weights at B, C, D which pro¬
duce the compressions, are equal to the weights at b,c,d,
which produce the extensions. Therefore b g :.do= F x
ab+Gxbc : Hxcd+iXDE"
Let us enquire what relation there is between this
proportion of the loads upon the joints at B and D, and
the angles which the rafters make at these joints with
each other, and with the horizon or the plumb lines.
Produce AB till it cut the vertical C c in Q ; draw Bit
parrallel to CD, and BS parallel to DE. The similarity
of the figures ABCDE andA&cdE, and the simi¬
larity of their, position with respect to the horizontal
and plumb lines, show, without any further demonstra¬
tion, that the triangles QCB and g b i are similar, and
that QB : BC=g i: i b,zz/i b : i b. Therefore QB is
to BC as the contractile force exerted by the thread
A 6 to that exerted by b c ; and therefore QB is to BC
as the compression of BA to the compression on BC
(a). 1 hen, because b i is equal to c k, and the triangles
CBR and ckl axe similar, CB : BR=c k : k 1,—ck : cm,
and CB is to BR as the compression on CB to the com-
Rtrof;
w-*
Qc
BC
BR
pression on CD. And, in like manner, because c m-=.
d n, we have BR to BS as the compression on DC to
the compression on DE. Also BR : RS=:m d : d o,. that
is, as the compression on DC to the load on D. Final¬
ly combining all these ratios
QC : CB—g b : b i,—g bike
CB : BR=& c : k l,=.k c : d ii
BR : BS=:w d : n o=d n : no
BS : RS=m o : d o—n o : do, we have finally
QC : RS=g b : o (/=Load at B : Load at D.
Now
BC=/, QBC BQC,—/, ABC : f, AB b
m=f, BRC :/BCR.=/'CD d : f, b BC
RS=y; bsr :/, rbs=/; d de -.j, cde
Therefore
QC RS=:/, ABC./, CD d.J, d DE :/, CDE./, AB6.
/ b BC.
Or
OC ■ RS--^®0—•
H ' / ABb./CB b ' f,dDC.J,di)E'
That is, the loads on the different joints are as the
sines of the angles at these joints directly, and as the
products of the sines of the angles which the rafters make
with the plumb-lines inversely.
Or, the loads are as the sines of the angles of the
jf-ints directly, and as the products of the cosines of the
elevations of the rafters jointly.
Or, the loads at the joints are as the sines of the
angles at the joints, and as the products of the secants
of elevation of the rafters jointly: for the secants of
angles are inversely as the cosines.
Draw the horizontal line BT. It is evident, that
if this be considered as the radius of a circle, the lines
BQ, BC, BR, BS are the secants of the angles which
these lines make with the horizon. And they are also
as the thrusts of those rafters to which they are parallel.
Therefore, the thrust which any rafter makes in its own
direction is as the secant of its elevation.
The horizontal thrust is the same at all the angles.
For i i—k x,—m fi,—n v,—p ft. Therefore both walls
are equally pressed out by the weight of the roof. We
can find its quantity by compelling it with the load on
one of the joints :
Thus, QC : CB=/, ABC :/, AB 6
BC : BT=Rad. : /, BCT,—Rad. : / CB b
Therefore, QC : BT=Rad. xf, ABC : / b BA x/ b BC
It deserves remark, that the lengths of the beams -rk len$
do not affect either the proportion of the load at of the
the different joints, nor the position of the rafters, beams di
This depends merely on the weights at the angles. Peml6
If a change of length affects the weight, this indeed
affects the form also: and this is generally the case. gies.
For
23
(a) nis proportion might have been shown directly without any use of the inverted figure or consideration
o contracti e orces, but. this substitution gives distinct notions of the mode of acting even to persons not much
conversant m sue i disquisitions; and we wish to make it familiar to the mind, because it gives an easy solution
the. n:0n/ 1catec problems, and furnishes the practical carpenter, who has little science, with solutions of
tbit tho f * Cl - casfs. ./. exPeriment. A festoon, as we called it, may easily be made; and we are certain,
that the forms into which it will arrange itself are models of perfect frames.
Roof:
HOC) [ 201 ] 11 O O
iof. For it seldom happens, indeed it never should happen,
>» y-^ that the weight on rafters of longer bearing are not
greater. The covering alone increases nearly in the
proportion of the length of the rafter.
If the proportion of the weights at B, C, and D are
given, as also the position of any two of the lines, the
position of all the rest is determined.
If the horizontal distances between tbe angles are
all equal, the forces on the different angles are pro¬
portional to the verticals drawn on the lines through
these angles from the adjoining angle, and the thrusts
from the adjoining angles are as the lines which con¬
nect them.
If the rafters themselves are of equal lengths, the
weights at the different angles are as these verticals and
as the secants of the elevation of the rafters jointly.
, ?f) This proposition is very fruitful in its practical con-
fi ical sequences. It is easy to perceive that it contains the
In ;nees. wjK)]e theory of the construction of arches; for each
stone of an arch may be considered as one of the rafters
of this piece of carpentry, since all is kept up by its
mere equilibrium. We may have an opportunity in
some future article of exhibiting some very elegant and
simple solutions of the most difficult cases of this im¬
portant problem ; and we now proceed to make use of
the knowledge we have acquired for the construction
of roofs.
30 We mentioned by the bye a problem which is not
Ti jter- unfrequent in practice, to determine the best form of a
m the kirb-roof. Mr Couplet of the Royal Academy of Paris
of <irb ^as £Pvena solution of it in an elaborate memoir in 1726,
r0l ' occupying several lemmas and theorems.
Fi 11. Let AE (fig. 11.) be the width, and CF the height;
it is required to construct a roof ABCDE whose rafters
AB, BC, CD, DE, are all equal, and which shall be
in equilibrio.
Draw CE, and bisect it perpendicularly in H by the
line DHG; cutting the horizontal line AE in G. A-
bout the centre G, with the distance GE, describe the
circle EDC. It must pass through C, because CH is
equal to. HE and the angles at H are equal. Draw
HK parallel to FE, cutting the circumference in K.
Draw CK, cutting GH in D. Join CD, ED; these
lines are the rafters of half of the roof required.
We prove this by showing that the loads in the
angles C and D are equal. For this is the proportion
which results from the equality of the rafters, and the
extent of surface of the uniform roofing which they are
supposed to support. Therefore produce ED till it
meet the vertieaTFC in N; and having made the side
CBA similar to CDE, complete the parallelogram
BCDP, and draw DB, which will bisect CP in R,
as the horizohtal line KH bisects CF in Q. Draw
KF, which is evidently parallel to DP. Make CS per¬
pendicular to CF, and equal to EG ; and about S, with
the radius SF, describe the circle FKW. It must pass
through K, because SF is equal to CG, and CQ —
QF. Draw WK, WS, and produce BC, cutting ND
in O.
The angle WKF at the circumference is one-half of
the angle WSF at the centre, and is therefore equal to
WSC, or CGF. It is therefore double of the angle
CEF or ECS. But ECS is equal to ECD and DCS,
and ECD is one-half of NDC, and DCS is one-half
»f DCQ, or CDP. Therefore the angle WKF is
equal to NDP, and WK is parallel to ND, and CF is
to CW as CP to CN; and CN is equal to CP. But
it has been shown above, that CN and CP are as the
loads upon D and C. These are therefore equal, and
the frame ABCDE is in equilibrio.
A comparison of this solution with that of Mr Coup¬
let will show its great advantage in respect of simplicity
and perspicuity. And the intelligent reader can easily
adapt the construction to any proportion between the
rafters AB and BC, which other circumstances, such
as garret-rooms, &c. may render convenient. The con¬
struction must he such that NC may he to CP as CD to
. Whatever proportion of AB to BC is as¬
sumed, the point D7 will be found in the circumference
of a semicircle I F D7 h', whose centre is in the line CE,
and having AB : BC=CH7: HE7,^=c h': h' E.-—The
rest of the construction is simple.
In buildings which are roofed with slate, tyls, or
shingles, the circumstance wdiich is most likely to limit
the construction is the slope of the upper rafters CB,
CD. This must be sufficient to prevent the penetration
of rain, and the stripping by the winds. The only cir-.
cumstance left in our choice in this case is the propor¬
tion of the rafters AB and BC. Nothing is easier than
making NC to CP in any desired proportion when the
angle BCD is given. 35 <
We need not repeat that it is always a desireable thing The truss
to form a truss for a roof in such a manner that it shall f°r a r0°f
be in equilihrio. When this is done, the whole force of ^loull^eal"
the struts and braces which are added to it is employed
in preserving this form, and no part is expended in an- brio,
necessary strains. For we must now observe, that the
equilibrium of which we have been treating is always
of that kind which we call the tottering, and the roof
requires itays, braces, or hanging timbers, to give it
stiffness, or keep it in shape. We have also said enough
to enable any reader acquainted with the most elemen¬
tary geometry and mechanics,to compute the transverse
strains and the thrusts to which the component parts
of all roofs are exposed. ^
It only remains now to show the general maxims by maxit^s by
which all roofs must be constructed, and the circum- which all
stances which determine their excellence. In doing this roofs must
we shall be exceedingly brief, and almost content our- 1)6 C011'
selves with exhibiting the principal forms, of which the structe<1,
endless variety of roof’s are only slight modifications.—
We shall not trouble the reader with any account of
such roofs as receive part of their support from the inte¬
rior walls, but confine ourselves to the more difficult
problem of throwing a roof over a wide building, with¬
out any intermediate support; because when such roofs
are constructed in the best manner, that is, deriving the
greatest possible strength from the materials employed,
the best construction of theothersisnecessarily included.
For all such roofs as rest on the middle walls are roofs
of smaller bearing. The only exception deserving no¬
tice is the roofs of churches, which have aisles separated
from the nave by columns. The roof must rise on these.
But if it is of an arched form internally, the horizontal
thrusts must be nicely balanced, that they may not
push the columns aside. 33
The simplest notion of a roof-frame is, that it consists s’mPlcst
of two rafters AB and BC (fig, 12.), meeting in the ,10tl0“ of
. . vc/-1 e a roof,.
ndSe- Fig. 12.
Even
II O O [ 262 ] E O O
Ra<n. Even this simple form is susceptible of better and
' worse. We have already seen, that when the weight
of a square yard of covering is given, a steeper roof
requires stronger rafters,and that when the scantling of
the timbers is also «riven, the relative strength of a rafter
34 is inversely as its length. But there is now another cir-
Jtest form cumstance to b? taken into the account,viz. the support
of rafters, which one rafter leg gives to the other. The best form
of a rafter will therefore be that in which the relative
strength of the legs, and their mutual support, give the
greatest product. Mr Muller, in his Military Engineer,
gives a determination of the best pitch of a roof, which
has considerable ingenuity, and has been copied into
many books of military education both in this island
and on the continent. Describe on the width AC,
Tie. 13. 13. the semic’rcle AFC’, and bisect it by the radius
FD. Produce the rafter AB to the circumference
in E, join EC, and draw the perpendicular EG.—
Now AB : AD=AC: AE, and AE=rAiL* A9,
AB
and AE is inversely as AB, and may therefore repre¬
sent its strength in relation to the weight actually lying
on it. Also the support which CB gives to AB is as
CE, because CE is perpendicular to AB. Therefore
the form which renders AExECa maximum seems
to be that which has the greatest strength. But AC :
AE=EC : EG, and EG-- E ,-E-, and is there-
AC
fore proportional to AE.EC. Now EG is a maximum
when B is in F, and a square pitch is in this respect
the strongest. But it isvery doubtful whetherthis con¬
struction is deduced from justprinciples. There is an¬
other strain to which the leg AB is exposed, which is
rot taken into the account. This arises from the curva¬
ture which it unavoidably acquires by the transverse
pressure of its load. In this state it is pressed in its
own direction by the abatement and load of the other
leg. The re’ation between thisstrain andthe resistance
of the piece is not very distinctly known. Euler has
given a dissertation on this subject (which is of great
importance, because it affects posts and pillars of all
kinds ; and it is very well known that a post of ten feet
long, and six inches square will bear with great Safety a
weight which would crush a post of the same scantling
and 20 feet long in a minute) ; but his determination
has not been acquiesced in by the first mathematicians.
Now it isin relation to these two strainsthat the strength
of the rafter should be adjusted. The firmness of the
support given by the other leg is of no consequence, if
it-* own strength is inferior to the strain. The force
which tends to crush the leg AB, by compressing it in
its curved state, is to its weight as AB to BD^as is
easily ‘eea by the composition of forces ; and its incur¬
vation by this force has a relation to it, which is of in¬
tricate determination. It is c ntained in the properties
d.e eonstr ted by Bernoulli of the elastic curve. This
deterrrin.tonalso in eludes the relation between the cur¬
vature and the length of the piece. But the whole of
t is seemingly simple problem is of much more difficult
investigation than Mr Muller was aware of; and his
rules for the pitch of a roof, and for the sally of a dock
gate, which depends on the same principles, are of no
value. He is, however, the first author who attempted
to solve either of these problems on mechanical princi¬
ples susceptible of precise reasoning. Belidor’s sola- Hoof,
tions, in his Architecture Hydrauliquc, are below notice.
Reasons of economy have made carpenters prefer a
low pitch; and although this does diminish the sup¬
port given by the opposite leg faster than it increases
the relative strength of the other, this is not of mate¬
rial consequence, because the strength remaining in the
opposite leg is still very great; for the supporting leg
is acting against compression, in which case it is vastly
stronger than the supported leg acting against a trans¬
verse strain. " 35
But a roof of this simplicity will not do in most cases. Thrust dj
There is no notice taken in its construction of the thrust die walls,
which it exerts on the walls. Now this is the strain
which is the most hazardous of all. Our ordinary walls,
instead of being able to resist any considerable strain
pressing them outwards, require, in general, some ties
to keep them on foot. When a person thinks of the
thinness and height of the walls of even a strong house,
he will be surprised that they are not blown down by
any strong puff of wind. A wall of three feet thick,
and 60 feet high, could not withstand a wind blowing
at the rate of 30 feet per second (in which case it acts
with a force considerably exceedingtwo pounds on every
square foot), if it were not stiffened by cross walls,joists,
and roof, which all help to tie the different parts of the
building together.
A carpenter is therefore exceeding careful to avoid how aroi I
every horizontal thrust, or to oppose them by other cd.
forces. And this introduces another essential part into
the construction of a root) namely the tie or beam AC,
(fig. 14.), laid from wall to wall, binding the feet A pig. iJI
and C of the rafters together. This is the sole office of
the beam; and it should be considered in no other light
than as a string to prevent the roof from pushing out the
walls. It is indeed used for carrying the ceiling of the
apartments under it; and it is even made to support a
flooring Buf, considered as making part of a roof, it
is merely a string; and the strain which it withstands
tends to tear its parts asunder. It therefore acts with
itswholeabsolute force, andavery small scantling would
suffice if we could contrive to fasten it firmly enough to
the foot of the rafter. If it is of oak, we may safely
subject it to a strain of three tons for every square inch
of its section. And fir will safely bear a strain of two
tons for every square inch. But we are obliged to give
the tie-beam much larger dimensions, that we may be
able to connect it with the foot of the rafter by a mor¬
tise and tenon. Iron straps are also frequently added.
By attending to this office of the tie-beam, the judicious
carpenter is directed to the proper form of the mortise
and tenon and of the strap. We shall consider both of
thesein aproper place, aTer we become acquainted with
the various .strains at the joints of a roof.
These large dimensions o? the tie-beam allow us to
load it with the ceilings without any risk, and even to
lay floors on it with moderation and caution. But
when it has a great bearing or span, it is very apt to
benddownwards in themiddle, or, as the work nen term
it, to sway or swag ; and it requires a support, 'fhe
question is, where to find this support? What fixed
points can we find with which to connect the middle of
the tie-beam ? Some ingenious carpe ter th nighi of
suspending it from the ridge by a piece of timber BD
(fig. 15.), called by our carpenters the king-post. I- Fig. b
must
n O O [ 263 ] R 0 0
wf. must bs acknowledged that there was great ingenuity
' ^ in this thought. It was also perfectly just. For the
weight of the rafters BA, BC tends to make them fly
out at the foot. This is prevented by the tie-beam, and
this excites a pressure, by which they tend to compress
each other. Suppose them without weight, and that a
great weight is laid on the ridge B. This can be sup¬
ported only by the butting of the rafters in their own
directions AB and CB, and the weight tends to com¬
press them in the opposite directions, and through their
intervention, to stretch the tie-beam. If neither the
rafters can be compressed, nor the tie beam stretched, it
is plain that the triangle ABC must retain its shape,
and that B becomes a fixed point, very proper to be
used as a point of suspension. To this point, there¬
fore, is the tie-beam suspended by means of the king¬
post. A common spectator unacquainted with carpen¬
try, views it very differently, and the tie-beam appears
to him to carry the roof. The king-post appears a pil¬
lar resting on the beam, whereas it is really a string;
and an iron-rod of one-sixteenth of the size would have
done just as well. The king-post is sometimes mortised
into the tie-beam, and pins put through the joint, which
gives it more the look of a pillar with the roof resting
on it. This does well enough in many cases. But the
best method is to connect them by an iron strap like a
stirrup, which is bolted at its upper ends into the
king-post, and passes round the tie-beam. In this way
a space is commonly left between the end of the king¬
post and the upper side of the tie-beam. Here the
beam plainly appears hanging in the stirrup ; and this
method allows us to restore the beam to an exact level,
when it has sunk by the unavoidable compression or
other yielding of the parts. The holes in the sides of
the iron strap are made oblong instead of round ; and
the bolt which is drawn through all is made to taper
on the under side ; so that driving it farther draws the
tie-beam upwards. A notion of this may be formed by
looking at fig. IS. which is a section of the post and
beam.
It requires considerable attention, howTever, to make
this suspension of the tie-beam sufficiently firm. The
top of the king-post is cut into the form of the arch¬
stone of a bridge, and the heads of the rafters are firm¬
ly mortised into this projecting part. These projec¬
tions are called joggles, and are formed by working
the king-post out of a much larger piece of timber, and
cutting off the unnecessary wood from the two sides;
and, lest all this should not be sufficient, it is usual
in great works to add an iron-plate or strap of three
branches, which are bolted into the heads of the king¬
post and rafters.
The rafters, though not so long as the beam, seem to
stand as much in need of something to prevent their
bending, for they carry the wreight of the covering.—
This cannot be done by suspension, for we have no fixed
points above them : But we have now got a very firm
point of support at the foot of the king-post.— Braces,
17‘ or struts, ED, FD, (fig. 17.), are put under the middle
of the ratters, Avhere they are slightly mortised, andtheir
lower ends are firmly mortised into joggles formed on
the foot of the king-post. As these braces are very
powerful in their resistance to compression, and theking-
post equally so to resist extension, the points E and F
may be considered as fixed; and the rafters being thus
reduced to half their former length, have now four time? BbofT
their former relative strength. s—
Boots do not al ways consistof two sloping sides meet- 37
ing in a ridge. They have sometimes a flat on the top, Construc-
with two sloping sides. They are sometimes formed
with a double slope, and are called Icirb or mansarde roofs.
roofs. 1 hey sometimes have a valley in the middle,
and are then called M roofs. Such roofs require ano¬
ther piece which may be called the truss-beam, because
all such frames are called trusses, probably from the
French w-ord lroussc, because such roofs are like portions
ot plain roofs, trousses or shoitened.
A flat-topped roof is thus constructed. Suppose the
three rafters AB, BC, CD (fig. 18.) of which AB S‘
and CD are equal, and BC horizontal. It is plain that
they will be in equilibrio, and the roof haveno tendency
to go to either side. The tie-beam AD withstands the
horizontal thrusts of the whole frame, and the two raf¬
ters AB and CD are each pressed in theirown directions
in consequence of their butting with the middle rafter
or truss-beam BC. It lies between them like the key¬
stone of an arch. They lean towards it, and it rests on
them. The pressure which the truss-beam and its load
excites on the two rafters is the very same as if the raf¬
ters were produced till they meet in G, a;:d a weight
w ere laid on these equal to that of BC and its load. If
therefore the truss-beam is of a scantling sufficient for
carrying its own load,antl withstanding the compression
from the two rafters, the roof will be equally strong,
(while it keeps its shape) as the plain roof AGD, fur¬
nished with king-post and braces. We may conceive
this another way. Suppose a plain roof AGD, without
braces to support the middle B and C of the rafters.
Then let a beam BC be put in between the rafter, but¬
ting upon little notches cut in the rafters. It is evident
that this must present the rafters from bending down¬
wards, because the points B and C cannot descend, mo¬
ving round the centres A and D, without shortening
the distance BC between them. This cannot be w ith¬
out compressing the beam BC. It is plain that BC
may be wedged in,or wedgesdriven in between its ends
B and C and the notches in which it is lodged. These
wedges may be driven in till they even force out the
rafters GA and GD. Whenever this happens, all the
mutual pressure ofthe heads ofthese rafters at G is taken
away, and the parts GB and GC may be cut away, and
the roof ABCD wdil be as strong as the roof AGD fur¬
nished with the king-post and braces, because the truss-
beam gives a support of the same kind at B and C as
the brace would have done.
But this roof ABCD would have no firmness of
shape. Any addition of weight on one side would de¬
stroy the equilibrium at the angle, would depress that
angle, and cause the opposite one to rise. To give it
stiffness, it must either have ties or braces, or some¬
thing partaking ofthe nature of both. The usual me¬
thod of framing is to make the heads of the rafters
butt on the joggles of two side-posts BE and CF, while
the truss-beam, or strut as it is generally termed by
the carpenters, is mortised square into the inside of
the heads. The lower ends E and F of the side-posts
are connected with the tie-beam either by mortises or
straps.
This construction gives firmness to the frame; for
the angle B cannot descend in consequence of any ine.
quality
S8
They are
iwt so
strong as
the plain
roofs.
Fig-. 19.
9
Members
of which
the frame
of a roof
consists,.
moo l 264 i moo
quality of pressure, without forcing the other angle C
to rise. This it cannot do, being held down by the
postCF. And the same construction fortifies the tie-
beam, which is now suspended at the points E and F
from the points B and C, whose firmness we have just
now shown.
But although this roof may be made abundantly
strong, it is not quite so strong as the plain roof AGD
of the same scantling. The compression which BC
must sustain in m’der to give the same support to the
rafters at B and C that was given by braces properly
placed, is considerably greater than the compression
of the braces. And this strain is an addition to the
transverse strain which BC gets from its own load.
Also this form necessarily exposes the tie-beam to cross
strains. If BE is mortised into the tie-beam, then the
strain which tends to depress the angle ABC presses
on the tie-beam at E transversely, while a contrary
strain acts on F, pulling it upwards. Thesestrains how¬
ever are small; and this construction is frequently used,
being susceptibleof sufficientstrength, withoutmuchin¬
crease of the dimensions of the timbers ; and it has the
great advantage of giving free room in the garrets.
Were it not for this, there is a much more perfect form
represented in fig. 19- Here the two posts BE, CF are
united below. All transverse action on the tie-beam is
now entirely removed. We are almost disposed to say
that this is the strongest roof of the same width and
slope : for if the iron strap which connects the pieces
BE, CF v/ith the tie-beam have a large bolt G through
it, confining it to one point of the beam, there are five
points. A, B, C, D, G, which cannot change their pla¬
ces, and there is no transverse strain in any of the con¬
nections.
When the dimensions of the building are very great,
so that the pieces AB, BC, CD, would be thought
too weak for withstanding the cross strains, braces may
be added as is expressed in fig. ] 8. by the dotted lines.
The reader will observe, that it is not meant to leave
the top fiat externally: it must be raised a little in the
middle to shoot oflF the rain. But this must not be
done by incurvating the beam BC. This would soon
be crushed, and spring upwards. The slopes must be
given by pieces of timber, added above the strutting-
beam.
And thus we have completed a frame of a roof. It
consists of these principal memhers : The rafters, which
are immediately loaded with the covering; thetie-beam,
which withstands the horizontal thrust by which the
roof tends to fly out below and push out the walls ;
the king-posts, which hang from fixed points and serve
to uphold the tie-beam, and also to afford other fixed
points on which we may rest the braces which support
themiddle of the rafters ; and lastly the truss or strut-
ting-beam, which serves to give mutual abutment to
the different parts which are at a distance from each
other. The rafters, braces, and trusses are exposed to
compression, and must therefore have not only cohesion
but stiffness. For if they bend, the prodigious com¬
pressions to which they are subjected would quickly
crush them in this bended state. The tie-beams and
king-posts, if performing no other office but support¬
ing the roof, do not require stiffness, and their places
might be supplied by ropes, or by rods of iron of
one-tenth part of the section that even the smallest
oak stretcher requires. These members require no Roof,
greater dimensions than what is necessary for giving suf- 'WY-
ficient joints, and any more is a needless expence and
load. All roofs, however complicated, consist of these
essential parts, and if pieces of timber are to be seen
which perform none of these offices, they must be pro¬
nounced useless, and they are frequently hurtful, by
producing cross strains in some other piece. In a roof
properly constructed there should be no such strains.
All the timbers, except those which immediately carry
the covering, should be either pushed or drawn in the
direction of their length. And this is the rule by
which a roof should ahvays he examined. io
These essential parts aresusceptible of numberless com- arc susct
binations and varieties. But it is a prudent maxim to ll^e of 1
make the construction assimple, and consisting of asfew comb;”|
parts, as possible. We are less exposed to the imperfec- tions an'
tionsof workmanship, suchasloose joints, &c. Another varieties,
essential harm arises from many pieces, by the compres¬
sion and the shrinking of the timber in the cross di¬
rection of the fibres. The effect of this is equivalent
to the shortening of the piece which butts on the joint.
This alters the proportions of the sides of the triangle
on which the shape of the whole depends. Now in a
roof such as fig. 18. there is twice as much of this a«
in the plain pent roof, because there are two posts.
And when the direction of the butting pieces is very
oblique to the action of the load, a small shrinking per¬
mits a great change of shape. Thus in a roof of what
is called pediment pitch, where the rafters make an
angle of 30 degrees with the horizon, half an inch
compression of the king-post will produce a sagging of
an inch, and occasion a great strain on the tie-beam if
the posts are mortised into it. In fig. 2. of the roofs in
the article Architecture, PUte LIE half an inch
shrinking of each of the two posts will allow the middle
to sag above five inches. Fig. 1. of the same plate is
fudty in this respect, by cutting the strutting-beam in
the middle. The strutting-beam is thus shortened by
three shrinkings, while there is but one to shorten the
rafters. The consequence is, that the truss which is in¬
cluded within the rafters will sag away from them, and
then they must bend in the middle till they again rest
on this included truss. This roof is, however, con¬
structed on the whole on good principles, and we ad¬
duce it only to show the advantagesof simplicity. This
cutting of thetrussing-beam is unavoidable, if we would
preserve the king-post. But we are in doubt whether
the service perlormed by it in this case will balance the
inconvenience. It is employed only to support the
middle of the upper half of each rafter, which it does
but imperfectly, because the braces and strut must be
cut half through at their crossing: if these joints are
made tight, as a workman would wish to do, the settling
of the roof will cause them to Avork on each other cross¬
wise with insuperable force, and will undoubtedlystrain
them exceedingly.
This method of including a truss within the rafters
of a pent roof is a \-ery considerable addition to the art
of carpentry. But to insure its full effect, it should al¬
ways be executed in the manner represented in fig. 1.
PI. Lll . Avith butting rafters under the principal ones,
butting on joggles in the heads of the posts. Without
this the strut beam is hardly of any service. We would
therefore recommend fig 20. as a proper construction of pig- 20
• a
BOO [ 265 ] BOO
I if. a trussed roof, and the king-post, which is pi need in it
—^ rany he employed to support the upper part of the raf¬
ters, and also for preventing the strut-beam from bend¬
ing in their direction in consequence of its great com¬
pression. It will also give a suspension for the great
burdens which are sometimes necessary in a theatre.
The machinery has no other firm points to which it can
be attached ; and theportionsof the single rafters which
carry this king-post are but short, and therefore may be
considerably loaded with safety.
We observe in the drawings which we sometimes
have of Chinese buildings, that the trussing of roofs is
understood by them. Indeed they must, be very expe¬
rienced carpenters. "We see wooden buildings run up
to a great height, which can be supported only by such
1. trussing. One of these is sketched in fig. SI. There
are some very excellent specimens to be seen in the
buildings at Deptford, belonging to the victualling-
office, usually called the Red house, which were erected
about the year 1788, and we believe are the perform¬
ance of Mr James Arrow of the Board of Works, one
1 of the most intelligent artists in this kingdom.
Thus have we given an elementary, but a rational or
,saej t0 scientific, account of this important part of the art of
iters, carpentry. It is such, that any practitioner, with the
trouble of a little reflection, may always proceed with
confidence, and without resting any part of his practice
on the vague notions which habit may have given him
of the strength and supports of timbers, and of their
manner of acting. That these frequently mislead, is
proved by the mutual criticisms which are frequently
published by the rivals in the profession. They have
frequently sagacity enough (Tor it seldom can be called
science) to point out glaring blunders ; and any person
who will look at some of the performances of Mr Price,
Mr Wyatt, Mr Arrow, and others of acknowledged re¬
putation, will readily see them distinguishable from the
works of inferior artists by simplicity alone. A man
without principlesis apt to consider an intricate construc¬
tion as ingenious and effectual; and such roofs some¬
times failmerely by beingingeniouslyloaded with timber,
but more frequently still by the wrong action of some
useless pieces,'which produces strains that are transverse
to other pieces, or which, by rendering some points too
firm, cause them to be deserted by the rest in the gene¬
ral subsiding of the whole. Instances of this kind are
pointedoutby Price in his British Carpenter. Nothing
shews the skill of a carpentevmore than the distinctness
with which he can foresee the changes of shape which
must take place in a short time in every roof. A know¬
ledge of this will often correct a construction which the
mere mathematicianthinksunexceptionable, because he
dees not reckon on the actual compression which must
obtain, and imaginesthat his triangles, which sustain no
cross strains, invariably retain their shape til! the pieces
break. The sagacity of the experienced carpenter is
not, however, enough without science for perfectingthe
art. But when he knows how much a particular piece
'"'ill yield to compression in one case, science will tell
him, and nothing but science can do it, what will be the
compression of the same piece in another very different
case. Thus he learns how far it will now yield, and
then he proportionsthe parts soto each other, that when
all have yielded according to their strains, the whole is
ol the shape he wished to produce, and every joint is in
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
a state of firmness. It is here that we observe the
greatest number of improprieties. The iron strapsare
frequently in positions not suited to the actual strain on
them, and they are in a state of violent twist, which
both tends strongly to break the strap, and to cripple
the pieces which they surround.
In like manner, we frequently see joints or mortises
in a state of violent strain on the tenons, or on the
heels and shoulders. The joints were perhaps properly
shaped for the primitive form of the truss; but by its
settling, the bearing of the push is changed : the brace
for example, in a very low pitched roof, comes to press
with the upper part of the shoulder, and, acting as a
powerful lever on the tenon, breaks it. In like manner
the lower end of the brace, which at first butted firmly
and squarely on the joggle of the king-post, now presses
with one corner in prodigious force, and seldom fails
to splinter off on that side. We cannot help recom¬
mending a maxim of Mr Perronet the celebrated hy¬
draulic architect of France, as a golden rule, viz. to
make all the shoulders of butting pieces in the form of
an arch of a circle, having the opposite end of the piece
for its centre. Thus, in fig. 18. if the joggle-point B
be of this form, having A for its centre, the sagging of
the roof will make no partial bearing at the joint; for
in the sagging of the roof, the piece AB turns or bends
round the centre A, and the counter pressure of the
joggle is still directed to A, as it ought to be. We
have just now said bends round A. This is too fre¬
quently the case, and it is always very difficult to give
the tenon and mortise in this place a true and invariable
bearing. The rafter pushes in the direction BA, and
the beam resists in the direction AD. The abutment
should be perpendicular to neither of these, but in an
intermediate direction, and it ought also to be of a cur¬
ved shape. But the carpenters perhaps think that
this would weaken the beam too much to give it this
shape in the shoulder; they do not even aim at it in
the heel of the tenon. The shoulder is commonly even
with the surface of the beam. When the bearing there¬
fore is on this shoulder, it causes the foot of the rafter
to slide along the beam till the heel of the tenon bears
against the outer end of the mortise (See Price’s Bri¬
tish Carpenter, Plate C. fig. IK). This abutment
is perpendicular to the beam in Price’s book, but it is
more generally pointed a little outwards below, to make
it more secure against starting. The consequence of
this construction is, that when the roof settles, the
shoulder comes to bear at the inner end of the mortise,
and it rises at the outer, and the tetion taking hold of
the wood beyond it, either tears it out or is itself bro¬
ken. This joint therefore is seldom trusted to the
strength of the mortise and tenon, and is usually secu¬
red by an iron strap, which lies obliquely to the beam,
to which it is bolted by a large bolt quite through, and
then embraces the outside of the rafter foot. Very fre¬
quently this strap is not made sufficiently obliqu$, and
we have seen some made almost square with the beam.
W’hen this is the case, it not only keeps the foot of the
rafter from flying out, but it binds it down. In this
case, the rafter acts as a powerful lever, whose fulcrum
is in the inner angle of the shoulder, and then the strap
never fails to cripple the rafter at the point. All this
can be prevented only by making the strap very long
and very oblique, and by making its outer end (the
f LI stirrup
Koe£
42
.Mode of
•aleulating
strains or
thrusts,
43
. and the
strength
the truss.
K 0 O [266
stimip part) square with its length, and making a notch
in the rafter foot to receive it. It cannot now cripple
the rafter, for it will rise along with it, turning round
the bolt at its inner end. We have been thus particu¬
lar on this joint, because it is here that the ultimate
strain of the whole roof is exerted, and its situation will
not allow the excavation necessary for making it a good
mortise and tenon.
v Similar attention must be paid to some other straps,
such at those which embrace the middle of the rafter,
and connect it with the post or truss below it. We must
attend to the change of shape produced by the tagging
of the roof, and place the strap in such a manner as to
yield to it by turning round its bolt, but so as not to be¬
come loose, and far less to make a fulcrum for any thing
acting as a lever. The strains arising from such actions,
in framings of carpentry which change their shape by
fagging, are enormous, and nothing can resist them.
We shall close this part of the subject with a simple
method, by which any carpenter, without mathematical
science, may calculate withsufficient precision thestrains
or thrusts which are produced on any point of his work,
whatever be the obliquity of the pieces.
Let it be required to find the horizontal thrust act¬
ing on the tie-beam AD of fig. ] 8. This will be the
same as if the weight of the whole roof were laid at G
on the two rafters GA and GD. Draw the vertical
line GH. Then, having calculated the weight of the
whole roof that is supported by this single frame
ABCD, including the weight of the pieces AB, BC,
CD, BE, CF themselves, take the number of pounds,
tons, & c. which expresses it from any scale of equal
parts, and set it from G to H. Draw HK, HL parallel
to GD, GA, and draw the line KL, which will be ho¬
rizontal when the two sides of the roof have the same
slope. Then ML measured on the same scale will give
the horizontal thrust, by which the strength of the tie-
beam is to be regulated. GL will give the thrust
which tends to crush the rafters, and LM will also give
the force which tends to crush the strut-beam BC.
In like manner, to tind the strain of the king-post
BD of fig. 17- consider that each brace is pressed by
ha’f the weight of the roofing laid on BA or BC, and
this pressure, or at least its hurtful effect, is diminished
in the proportion of BA to DA, because the action of
gravity is vertical, and the effect which we want to
counteract by the braces is in a direction E e perpendi¬
cular to BA or BC. But as this is to be resisted by
the brace/1 E acting in the direction/1 E, we must draw
f e perpendicular to E e, and suppose the strain aug¬
mented in the proportion of E e to E /.
Having thus obtained in tons, pounds, or other mea¬
sures, the strains which must be balanced at/ by the
cohesion of the king-post, take this measure from the
scale of equal parts, and set it off in the directions of
the braces to G and H, and complete the parallelogram
G/’HK ; and / K measured on the same scale 'will be
the strain on the king-post.
The arti-t may then examine the strength of his
f truss upon this principle, that every square inch of oak
will bear at an average 7000 pounds compressing or
stretching it, and may be safely loaded with 3500 for
] BOO
any length of time; and that a square inch of fir will Roof,
in like manner securely bear 2500. And, because
straps are used to resist some of these strains, a square
inch of well wrought tough iron may be safely strained
by 50,000 pounds. But the artist will always recol¬
lect, that we cannot have the same confidence in iron
as in timber. The faults of this last are much more
easily perceived; and when the timber is too weak, it
gives us warning of its failure, by yielding sensibly be¬
fore it breaks. This is not the case with iron; and
much of its service depends on the honesty of the black¬
smith. 44
In this way may any design of a roof be examined. Sketch c
We shall here give the reader a sketch of two or three son>e tim
trussed roofs, which have been executed in the chief va- roofs’ ^
rieties of circumstances which occur incommon practice.
Fig. 22. is the roof of St Paul's Church, Covent Gar- Fig. 22.
den, London, the work of Inigo Jones. Its construction
is singular. The roof extends to a considerable distance
beyond the building, and the ends of the tie-beams
support the Tuscan corniche, appearing like the mu-
tules of the Doric order. Such a roof could not rest
on the tie-beam. Inigo Jones has therefore supported
it by a truss below it; and the height has allowed him
to make this extremely strong with very little timber.
It is accounted the highest roof of its width in Lon¬
don. But this was not difficult, by reason of the great
height which its extreme width allowed him to em¬
ploy without hurting the beauty of it by too high a
pitch. The supports, however, are disposed with judge¬
ment (a ).
Fig. 23. is a kirb or mansard roof by Price, and sup- Fig. 2:
posed to be of large dimensions, having braces to carry
the middle of the rafters.
It will serve exceedingly well for a church having pil¬
lars. The middle part of the tie-beam being taken away,
the strains are very well balanced, so that there is no
risk of its pushing aside the pillar on which it rests.
Fig. 24. is the celebrated roof of the theatre of the pig, j
university of Oxford, by SirChristopher Wren. The span
between the walls is 75 feet. This is accounted a very
ingenious, and is a singular performance. The middle
part of it is almost unchangeable in its form ; but* from
this circumstance it does not distribute the horizontal
thrust with the same regularity as the usual construction.
The horizontal tln-ust on the tie-beam is about twice
the weight of the roof, and is withstood by an iron
strap bejow the beam, which stretches the whole width
of the building in the form of a rope, making part of
the ornament of the ceiling. < -
In all the roofs which we have considered hitherto, Cases !
the thrust is discharged entirely from the wTalls by the
tie-beam. But this cannot always be done. We fre- t^r“t( j
quently want great elevation within, and arched ceil- j
ings. In such cases, it is a much more difficult matter from |j
to keep the walls free of all pressure outwards, and walk 11
there are few buildings where it is completely done, tie ^jl
Vet this is the greatest fault of a roof1. We siiall just
point put the methods which may be most successfully
adopted.
We have said that a tie-beam just performs the office
of a string. We have said the same of the king-post.
Now
(a) This church wa£ burnt down a few years ago.
11 0 o
[ 267 ]
E 0 O
of.
V.
Fi 25.
Fi 26.
1 .27.
Now suppose two rafters AB, BC, (t%. 25.) moveable
about the point ft, and resting on the top of the walls.
If the line BD be suspended from B, and the two lilies
DA, DC be fastened to the feet of the rafters, and if
these lines be incapable of extension, it is plain that all
thrust is removed from the walls as eflfcctu illy as by a
common tie-beam. And by shortening BD to B r/, we
gain a greater inside height, andmore room for an arched
ceiling. Now if we substitute a king-post BD (fig. 2(1.)
and two stretchers or hammer-beams DA, DC for the
other strings, and connect them firmly by means of iron
straps, we obtain our purpose.
Let us compare this roof with a tie-beam roof in
point of strain and strength. Recur to fig. 25. and
complete the parallelogram ABCF, and draw the dia¬
gonals AC, BF crossing in E. Draw BG perpendi¬
cular to CD. We have seen that the weight of the
roof (which we may call W) is to the horizontal thrust
at C as BF to EC ; and if we express this thrust by
vu
T,
W y FC
we have T= —'— We may at present con-
BF
sider BC as a lever moveable round the joint B, and
pulled at C in the direction EC by the horizontal
thrust, and held back by the string pulling in the direc¬
tion CD. Suppose that the forces in the directions
EC and CD are in equilibrio, and let us find the force
S by which the string CD is strained. These forces
must (by the property of the lever) be inversely as the
perpendiculars drawn from the centre of motion on the
lines of their direction. Therefore BG : BE=T : S,
and S=T X
BE
,=W x
BE.EC
BG BF.BG
Therefore the strain upon each of the ties DA and
DC is always greater than the horizontal thrust or the
strain on a simple tie-beam. This would be no great
inconvenience, because the smallest dimensions that we
could give to these ties, so as to procure sufficient fix¬
tures to the adjoining pieces, are always sufficient to
withstand this strain. But although the same may be
said of the iron straps which make the ultimate connec¬
tions, there is always some hazard of imperfect work,
cracks, or flaws, which are not perceived. We can
judge with tolerable certainty of the soundness of apiece
of timber, but cannot say so much of a piece of iron.
Moreover, there is a prodigious strain excited on the
king-post, when BG is very short in comparison of BE,
namely, the force compounded of the two strains S and
S on the ties DA and DC.
But there is another defect from which the straight
tie-beam is entirely free. All roofs settle a little.—
When this roof settles, and the points B and D de¬
scend, the legs BA, BC must spread further out, and
thus a pressure outwards is excited on the walls. It is
seldom therefore that this kind of roof can be executed
in this simple form, and other contrivances arenecessary
for counteracting this supervening action on the walls.
Fig. 2?. is one of the best which we have seen, and is
executed with great success in the circus or equestrian
theatre (now, 1809, a concert room) in Edinburgh, the
width being GO feet. The pieces EF and ED help to
take off some of the weight, and by their greater up¬
rightness they exert a smaller thrust on the walls. The
beam D d is also a sort of truss-beam, having something
of the same effect. Mr Price has given another very
46
General ob¬
servations.
judicious one of this kind, British Carpenter, Plate I sVj
fig. C, from whichthe tie-beam may be taken away, and
there will remain very little thrust on the walls. Those
which he has given in the following Plate K are, in
our opinion, very faulty. The whole strain in these last
roofstendsto break the rafters and ties transversely, and
the fixtures of the ties are also not well calculated to re¬
sist the strain to which the pieces are exposed. We
hardly think that these roofs could be executed.
It. is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, that in
all that AVe have delivered on this subject, we have at¬
tended only to the construction of the principal rafters
or trusses. In small buildings all the rafters are of one
kind ; but in great buildings the whole Aveight of the
covering is made to rest on a few principal rafters,
which are connected by beams placed horizontally, and
either mortised into them or scarfed on thepn. These
are called purlins. Small rafters are laid from purlin to
purlin ; and on these the laths for tiles, or the skirting-
boards for slates, are nailed. Thus the covering does
not immediately rest on the principal frames. This al¬
lows somemore liberty in their construction, because the
garrets can be so divided that the principal rafters shall
be in the partitions and the rest left unencumbered.
This construction is so far analogous to that of floors
which are constructed with girders, binding, and
bridging joists.
It may appear presuming in us to question the
propriety of this practice. There are situations in
which it is unavoidable, as in the roofs of churches,
w hich can be allowed to rest on some pillars. In other
situations, w here partition-Avalls intervene at a distance
not too great for a stout purlin, no principal raftefs
are necessary, and the whole may be roofed with short
rafters of very slender scantling. But in a great uni¬
form roof, which has no intermediate supports, it re¬
quires at least some reasons for preferring this method
of carcase-roofing to the simple method of making all
the rafters alike. The method of carcase-roofing re¬
quires the selection of the greatest logs of timber, which
are seldom of equal strengthand soundness w ith thinner
rafters. In these the outside planks can be taken off,
and the best part alone worked up. It also exposes to
all the defects of workmanship in the mortising of pur¬
lins, and the weakening of the rafters by tliis very
mortising; and it brings an additional load of purlins
and short rafters. A roof thus constructed may surely
be compared with a floor of similar construction. Here
there is not a shadow of doubt, that if the girders were
sawed into planks, and these planks laid as joists suffici¬
ently near for carrying the flooring boards, they Aviil
have the same strength as before, except so much as is
taken out of the timber by the saw. This will not
amount to one-tenth part of the timber in the binding^
bridging, and ceiling joists, which are an additional load,
and all the mortises and other joinings are so many di¬
minutions of the strength of the girders; and as no part
of a carpenter’s work requires more skill and accuracy »
of execution, we are exposed to many chances of im¬
perfection. But, not to rest on these considerations,
however reasonable they may appear, we shall relate
an experiment made by one on Avhose judgment and
exactness we can depend.
Tavo models of floors were made 18 inches square of Confi^ ,
the finest uniform deal, Avhich had been long seasoned, uy cxiTrL'
L 1 a The rLSTny
E 0 0 [ 268 ] E 0 0
Roof. The one consisted of simple joists, and the other was
framed with girders, binding, bridging, and ceiling
joists. The plain joists of the one contained the same
quantity of timber with the girders alone of the other,
and both were made by a most accurate workman.
They were placed in wooden trunks 18 inches square
within, and rested on a strong projection on the inside.
Small shot was gradually poured in upon the floors, so
as to spread uniformly over them. The plain joisted
floor broke down with 487 pounds, and the carcase
floor -with 327. The first broke without giving any
warning; the other gave a violent crack when 294*
pounds had been poured in.
A trial had been made b efore, and the loads were
341 and 482. But the models having been made by a
less accurate hand, it was not thought a fair specimen of
the strength which might be given to a carcase floor.
The only argument of weight which we can recol¬
lect in favour of the compound construction of roof's is,
that the plain method would prodigiously increase the
quantity of work, would admit nothing but long tim¬
ber, which would greatly add to the expence, and
would make the garrets a mere thicket of planks. We
admit this in its full force ; but we continue to be of
the opinion that plain roofs are greatly superior in point
of strength, and therefore should be adopted in cases
where the great difficulty is to insure this necessary cir-
^ eumstance.
Of the It would appear very neglectful to omit an account of
roofs put the roofs put on round buildings, such as domes, cupolas,
on round and the like. They appear to be the most difficult tasks
buildings. in the carpenter art. But the difficulty lies entirely in
the mode of framing, or what the French call the trait
de charpenterie. The view which we are taking of the
subject, as a part of mechanical science, has little con¬
nection with this. It is plain, that whatever form of a
truss is excellent in a squarebuilding must be equally so
as one of the frames of a round one ; and the only dif¬
ficulty is how to manage their mutual intersections at
the top. Some of them must be discontinued before
they reach that length, and common sense will teach
us to cut them short alternately, and always leave as
many, that they may stand equally thick as at their first
springing from the base of the dome. Thus the
length of the purlins which reach from truss to truss
will never be too great.
The truth is, that a round building which gathers
in at top, like a glass-house, a potter’s kiln, or a spire
steeple, instead of being the most difficult to erect with
stability, is of all others the easiest. Nothing can show
this more forcibly than daily practice, where they are
run up without centre sand without scaffoldings ; and it
requires grossblunders indeed in thechoice of their out¬
line to put them in much danger of falling from a want
of equilibrium. In like manner, a dome of carpentry
can hardly fall, give it what shape or what construction
you will. It cannot fall unless some part of it flies out
at the bottom : an iron hoop round it, or straps at tire
joinings of the trusses and puilins, which make an equi¬
valent to a hoop, will effiectuflly secure it. And as
beauty requires that a dome shall spring almost perpen¬
dicularly from the wall, it is evident that there is bald¬
ly any thnist to force out the walls Hie only part
where this is to be guarded against is, where the tan¬
gent is inclined about 40 or 50 degrees to the horizon*
Here it will be proper to make a course of firm horizon- 1 'J0t
tal joinings. *lpl
We doubt not but that domes of carpentry will now
be raised of great extent. The Halle du Bled at Pa¬
ris, of 200 feet in diameter, was the invention of an in¬
telligent carpenter, the Sieur Moulineau. He was not
by any means a man of science, but had much more me¬
chanical knowledge than artisans usually have,and was
convinced that a very thin shellof timber might notonly
be so shapedasto be nearly in equilibrio,butthatifhoop-
ed or firmly connected horizontally, it would have all
the stiffness that was necessary ; and he presented his^
project to the magistracy of Paris. The grandeur of it
pleased them, but they doubted of its possibility. Be-
ing a great public work, they prevailed on the Acade¬
my of Sciences to consider it. The members, who
were competent judges, were instantly struck with the
justness of Mr Moulineau’a principles, and astonished
that a thing so plain had not been long familiar to eve¬
ry house-carpenter. It quickly became an universal to¬
pic of conversation, dispute, and cabal, in the polite
circles of Paris. But the Academy having given a
very favourable report of their opinion, the project was
immediately carried into execution, and soon comple¬
ted ; and now stands as one of the great exhibitions of
Paris.
The construction of this dome is the simplest thing
that can be imagined. The circular ribs which com¬
pose it consist of planks nine feet long, 13 inches broad,
and three inches thick : and each rib consists of three of
these planks bolted together in such a manner that two
points meet. A rib is begun,, for instance, with a plank
of three feet long standing between one of six feet and
another of nine, and this is continued to the head of it.
No machinery was necessary for carrying up such small
pieces, and the whole went up like a piece of brick¬
layer’s work. At various distances these ribs were con¬
nected horizontally by purlins and iron straps, which
made so many hoops to the whole. When the work
had reached such a height, that the distance of the ribs
was two-thirds of the original distance, every third rib
was discontinued, and the space was left open and gla¬
zed. When carried so much higher that the distance of
the ribs is one-thirdof theoriginal distance, every second
rib (now consisting of two ribs very near each other) is
in like manner discontinued, and the void is glazed. A
little above this the heads of the ribs are framed into a
circular ring of timber, which forms a wide opening in
the middle ; over which is a glazed canopy or umbrella,
with an opening between it and the dome for allowing
the heated air to get out. All who have seen this dome
say, that it is the most beautiful and magnificent object
they have ever beheld.
I he only difficulty which occurs in the construction
of wooden domes is, when they are unequally loaded,
by carrying a heavy lanthern or cupola in the middle.
In such a case, if the dome w^ere a mere shell, it would
be ciushed in at the top, or the action of the wdnd on
the lanthern might tear it out of its place. Such a
dome mutt therefore consist of trusted frames. Mr
Price has given a very good one in his plate OP, though
much stronger in the trusses than there was any oc¬
casion for. This causes a great lo.s of room, and
throws the lights of the lanthern too far up. It is evi¬
dently copied from Sir Christopher Wren’s dome of
St
ROOFS
/y. //// (r 7 7 zj zy
ft’JsWr/AaZ/Z . *
** -
c . ?• - . ■
■ ■ fit if r; -
■ o.- . |
: -;si' x.-
- ...i'
• - -
. *• 7'< ; - :
. ,.”V
.
...... .
'' •
'
t - •
II 0 0 [ 269 ] U O O
Roof. St Paul’s church in London ; a model of propriety in
its particular situation, but by no means a general mo¬
del of a wooden dome. It rests on the brick cone
within it; rad Sir Christopher has very ingeniously
made use of it for stiffening this cone, as any intelligent
person will perceivebyattending to its construction (See
Price, Plate OP.).
Fig. 28. Fig. 28. presents a dome executed in the Register
Office in Edinburgh by James and Robert Adam, and
is very agreeable to mechanical principles. The span is
50 feet clear, and the thickness is only
,49 . We cannot take leave of the subject without taking
larks^oiT* some notice of what we have already spoken of with com-
Xoriuan mendatioiv by the name of Norman roofs. We called
roofs. them Nonnan, because they were frequently executed
by that people soon after their establishment in Italy and
other parts of the south of Europe, and became the pre¬
vailing taste in all the great baronial castles. Their ar¬
chitects were rivals to the Saracens and Moors, who a-
bout that time built many Christian churches ; and the
architecture which we now call Gothic seems to have
arisen from their joint labours.
The principle of a Norman roof is extremely simple.
2() The rafters all butted on joggled king-posts AF, BG,
F,g‘ CH, &c. (fig. 2().), and braces or ties were then dis¬
posed in the intervals. In the middle of the roof HB
and HD ai-e evidently ties in a state of extension,
while the post CH is compressed by them. Towards
the walls on each side, as between B and F, and be¬
tween F and L, they are braces, and are compressed.
The ends of the posts were generally ornamented with
knots of flowers, embossed globes, and the like, and
the whole texture of the truss was exhibited and dressed
out.
This construction admits of employing very short tim¬
bers ; and this very circumstance gives greater strength
to the truss, because the angle which the brace or tie
makes with the rafter is more open. We may also per¬
ceive that all thrust may be taken off the walls. If
the pieces AF, BF, LF, be removed, all the remaining
diagonal pieces act as ties, and the pieces directed to
the centre act as struts; and it may also be observed,
that the principle will apply equally to a straight or
flat roof or to a floor. A floor such as a 6 c, having
the joint in two pieces a b, b c, with a strut b d, and
two ties, will require a much greater weight to break
it than if it had a continued joist a c of the same scant¬
ling. And, lastly, a piece of timber acting as a tie is
much stronger than the same piece acting as a strut:
for in the latter situation it is exposed to bending, and
when bent it is much less able to withstand a very great
strain. It must be acknowledged, however, that this
advantage is balanced by the great inferiority of the
joints in point of strength. The joint of a tie depends
wholly on the pins; for this reason they are never used
in heavy works without strapping the joints with iron.
In the roofs we are now describing the diagonal pieces
of the middle part only act purely as ties, while those
towards the sides act as struts or braces. Indeed they
are seldom of so very simple construction as we have
Fig, 3^ described, and are more generally constructed like the
sketch in fig. 30. having two sets of rafters AB, a b,
and the angles are filled up with thin planks, which give
freat stiffness and strength. They have also a double
set of purlins, which connect the different trusses. The Kor>C
roof being thus divided into squares, other purlins run ( H
between the middle points E of the rafters. The raf- <> ~i
ter is supported at E by a check put between it and l
the under rafter. The middle point of each square of
the roof is supported and stiffened by four braces, one
of which springs from e, and its opposite from the si¬
milar part of the adjoining truss. The other two bra¬
ces spring from the middle points of the lower purlins,
which go horizontally from a and b to the next truss,
and are supported by planks in the same manner as the
rafters. By this contrivance the whole becomes very
stiff and strong.
We hope that the reader will not be displeased with Conclusion*
our having taken some notice of what was the pride of
our ancestors, and constituted a great part of the finery
of the grand hall, where the feudal lord assembled his
vassals and displayed his magnificence. The intelligent
mechanic will see much to commend; and all who look
at these roofs admire their apparent flimsy lightness, and
wonder at their duration. We have seen a hall of 57
feet wide, the roof which was in four divisions, like a
kirb roof, and the trusses were about 16 feet asunder.
They were single rafters, as in fig.30.and their dimen¬
sions were only eight inches by six. The roof appeared
perfectly sound, and had been standing ever since the
year 1425.
Much of what has been said on this subject may be
applied to the construction of wooden bridges and the
centres for turning the archesof stone-bridges. But the
farther discussion of this must be the employment of
another article.
ROOFING, the materials of which the roof of a
house is composed. See the foregoing article.
ROOK. See Coitvus Ornithology Index.
Rooks are very destructive of com, especially of
wheat. They search out the lands where it is sown, and
watching them more carefully than the owners, they*
perceive when the seed first beginsto shoot up its blade;
this is the time of their feeding on it. They will not be
at the pains of searching for it at random in the sown
land, for that is more trouble than so small a grain will
requite them for: but as soon as these blades appear,
they are by them directed, without loss of time or pains,
to the places where the grains lie ; and in three or four
days time they will root up such vast quantities, that a
good crop is often thus destroyed in embryo. After a
few days the wheat continuing to grow, its blades appear
green above ground; and then the time ol danger from
these birds is over ; for then the seeds are so far robbed,
of their mealy matter, that they are of no value to that
bird, and it will no longer give itself the trouble to de¬
stroy them.
Wheat that is sown so early as to shoot up its green
blades before the harvest is ail carried in, is in no dan¬
ger from these birds; because while it is in a state
worth their searching for, the scattered corn in the har¬
vest fields is easier come at, and they feed wholly on
this, neglecting the sown grain. But as this cannot al¬
ways be done, the farmers, todrive away these ravenous
and mischievous birds, dig holes in the ground and stick
up the feathers of rooks in them, and hang up dead
rooks on sticks in several parts of the fields: but all
this is of very little use ; fdr the living rooks will tear
up the ground about the feathers, and under the dead
ones.
ROD
Rook, one.!, to steal the seeds. A much better way than ei-
Rooke. ther is to tear several rooks to pieces, and to scatter the
pjeces over the fields; but this lasts but a little while,
for tire kites and other birds of prey soon carry off the
pieces and feed upon them. A gun is a good remedy
while the person who has it is present; but as soon as he
is gone, they w ill return with redoubled vigour to the
field and tear up every thing before them.
The best remedy the farmer has is to watch w ell the
time of the corn’s being in the condition in which they
feed upon it; and as this lasts only a few days, he
should keep a boy in constant pay to watch the field
from daybreak till the dusk of the evening. Every
time they settle upon the ground to fly over’ it, the boy
is to holloa, and throw up a dead rook into the air:
this will always make them rise; and by degrees they
w ill be so tired of this constant disturbance, that they
will seek out other places of preying, and will leave the
ground even before the time of the corn’s being unfit
for them. The reason of their rising at the tossing up
of their dead fellow creature is, that they are a bird
extremely apprehensive of danger, and they are always
alarmed w hen one of their comrades rises. They take
this for the rising of an out-bird, and all fly off at the
signal.
ROOKE, Sin George, a gallant naval commander,
born of an ancient and honourable family in Kent, in
lf)50. His merit raised him by regular steps to be
vice-admiral of the blue: in which station he served in
the battle of La Hogue, on the 22d of May l6‘92;
when it w is owing to his vigorous behaviour, that the
last stroke was given onthatimportant day, which threw
the French entirely into confusion. But the next day
he obtained still more glory; for he had orders to go
into La Hogue, and burn the enemy’s ships as they
lay there. There wrer6 liS large men of war, which
had crowded as far up as possible; and the transports,
tenders and ammunition ships, were disposed in such a
manner that it was thought impossible to burn them.
Besides, the French camp was in sight, with all the
French and Irish troops that w'ere to have been em¬
ployed in the invasion of England; and several batteries
were raised on the coast, well provided with heavy ar¬
tillery. The vice-admiral made the necessary prepara¬
tions for obeying his orders, but found it impossible to
carry in the ships of his squadron: he therefore ordered
his light frigates to ply in close to the shore; and hav¬
ing manned out all his boats, went himself to givedirec-
tions for the attack, burnt that very night six three-
deck-ships, and the next day six more, from 76 to 60
guns, together with most of the transports and ammu¬
nition vessels; and this under the fire of all the batteries
just mentioned, and in sight of all the French and Irish
troops : yet this bold action cost the lives of no more
than ten men. The vice-admiral’s behaviour on this
occasion appeared so great to King William, that ha¬
ving no opportunity at that time of promoting him, he
settled a pension of ] 0001. per annum on him for life •
and afterwards going to Portsmouth to view the fleef
went on board Mr Hooke’s ship, dined with him, and
then conferred on him the honour of knighthood, he
having a little before made him vice-admiral of the
red.
In consequence of other services he was in 169I rai¬
sed to the rank of admiral of the blue: towards the close
n 0 0
of the next year, he was admiral of the white; and was Unde
also appointed admiral and commander in chief in the 11
Mediterranean. kw
During King William's reign, Sir George was twice
elected member for Portsmouth ; and upon the acces¬
sion of Queen Anne in 1702, he was constituted vice-
admiral and lieutenant of the admiralty of England, as
also lieutenant of the fleets and seas of this kingdom.
Upon the declaration of war against France, he was
ordered to command a fleet sent against Cadiz, the
duke of Ormond having the command of the land for¬
ces. On his passage home, receiving an account that
the galleons, under the escort of a strong French squa¬
dron, were got into the harbour of Vigo, he resolved
to attack them; -and on the 11 th of October came be¬
fore the harbour of Rondondello, where the French
commander had neglected nothing necessary for putting
the place in the best posture of defence. But not¬
withstanding this, a detachment of 15 English and 10
Dutch men of war, of the line of battle, with all the
fire ships, were ordered in ; the frigates and bomb-ves¬
sels followed; the great ships moved after them, and
the army landed near Rondondello. The whole service
wras performed under Sir George’s directions, with ad¬
mirable conduct and bravery; for, in short, all the ships
were destroyed or taken, prodigious damage donetothe
enemy, and vast wealth acquired by the allies. For
this action Sir George received the thanks of the House
of Commons, a day of thanksgiving was appointedboth
by the queen and the states-general, and Sir George
was appointed to a seat in the privy-council; yet not¬
withstanding this, the House of Lords resolved to in¬
quire into his conduct at Cadiz. But he so fully jus¬
tified himselt, that a vote was passed, approving his be¬
haviour.
In the spring of the year 1704, Sir George command¬
ed the ships of war which conveyed King Charles 111. of
Spain to Lisbon In July, he attacked Gibraltar; when,
by the bravery of the English seamen, the place was ta¬
ken on the 24th, though the town was extremely strong,
well furnished with ammunition, and had 100 guns
mounted, all facing the sea and the narrow passes to the
land : an action which was conceived and executed in
less than a week ; though it has since endured sieges of
many months continuance, and more than once baffled
the united forces of France and Spain. This brave of¬
ficer being at last obliged, by the prevalence of party-
spirit, to quit the service of his country, retired to his
seat in Kent; where he spent the remainder of his days
as a private gentleman.
He was thrice married ; and by his second lady Mrs
Luttrel left one son. He died January 24. 1708-9,
in his 58th year, and was buried in Canterbury cathe¬
dral, where a monument is erected to his memory. In
his pi ivate life he was a good husband and a kind mas¬
ter, lived hospitably towards his neighbours, and left
behind him a moderate fortune; so moderate that when
lie came to make his will, it surprised those who were
piesent: but Sir George assigned the reason in a few
words, • ■ I do not leave much (said he), but what I leave
was honestly gotten ; it never cost a sailor a tear, or the
nation a farthing.”
ROOM, chamber, parlour, or other apartment in a
house. See Architecture and Ventilation.
ROO 1', among botanists, denotes that part of a.
plant
[ 370 ]
DOt.
1
I e.
li 0 P [ 271 ] POP
plant which imbibes the nutritious juices of the earth,
and transmits them to the other parts. See Plant and
Radix.
Colour extracted from Roots. See Colour Making,
N° 41.
Root, in Algebra and Arithmetic, denotes any num¬
ber which, multiplied by itself once or oftener, produces
any other number ; and is called the square, cube, bi¬
quadrate, &c. root, according to the number of multi¬
plications. Thus, 2 is the square of 4 ; the cube-root
of 8 ; the biquadrate root of 3 6, &c.
Roorofan equation, denotes the valueof the unknown
quantityin anequation, which issuch aquantity,asbeing
substituted instead of that unknownlet ter, intothe equa¬
tion, shall make all the terms to vanish, or both sides
equal to each other. Thus, of the equation 3X’ -|-5=14,
the root or value of x is 8, because substituting 3 for x
makes it become 9-j-5=14.
Roots, real and imaginary. The odd roots, as the
3d, 5th, 7th, &c. of all real quantities, whether positive
or negative, are real and are respectively positive or ne¬
gative. So the cube root of a3 is a, and of —a? is —a.
But the even roots, as the 2d, 4th, 6th, &c. are only
real when the quantity is positive, being imaginary or
impossible when the quantity is negative. So the square
root of a- is a, which is real; but the square root of
■—a2, that is f—a2, is imaginary or impossible, be¬
cause there is no quantity, neither -J-« nor —a, which
by squaring will make the given negative square —a2.
ROPE, is a word too familiar to need a defini¬
tion; and we need say no more than that it is only
applied to a considerable collection of twisted fibres.
Smaller bands are called lines, strings, cords ; and it is
not applied with great propriety even to those, unless
they are composed of smaller things of the same kind
twisted together. Two hay bands twisted together
would be called a rope. All the different kinds of this
m;inufacture,from a fishing-line or whip-cord to the ca¬
ble of a first-rate ship of war, go by the general name
of Cordage.
Ropes are made of every substance that is sufficiently
fibrous, flexible, and tenacious, but chiefly of the barks
of plants. The Chinese and other orientals even make
them of the ligneous parts of several plants, such as cer¬
tain bamboos and reeds, the stems of the aloes, the fi¬
brous covering of the cocoa nut, the filament of the cot¬
ton pod,and the leaves of some grasses suchasthe sparte
(LygeumflAnn.). The aloe (Agave, Linn.) and the
sparte exceed all others in strength. But the barks of
plants are the most productive of fibrous matter fit for
this manufacture. Those of the linden tree CTilid), of
the willow, the bramble, the nettle, are frequently
used : but hemp and flax are of all others the best; and
of these the hemp is preferred, and employed in all
cordage exceeding the size of a line, and even in many
of this denomination.
Hemp is very various in its useful qualities. These
are great strength, and the length and fineness of the
fibre. Being a plant of very greedy growth, it sucks
up much of the unaltered juices of the soil, and there¬
fore differs greatly according to its soil, climate, and
cu ture. The best in Purope comes to us through
Riga, to which port it is brought from very distant
places to the southward. It is known by the name of
Riga rein (that is, clean) hemp. Its fibre is not the
longest (at least in the dressed state in which we get
it) of all others, but it is the finest, most flexible, and
strongest. The next to this is supposed to be the Pe«
tersburgh braak hemp. Other hemps are esteemed
nearly in the following order:—Riga outshot, Peters-
burgh outshot, hemp from Konigsburg, Archangel,
Sweden, Memel. Chucking is a name given to a hemp
that comes from various places, long in the fibre, but
coarse and harsh, and its strength is inferior to hemps
which one would think weaker. Its texture is such,
that it does not admit splitting with the hatchet so as
to be more completely dressed. It is therefore kept in
its coarse form, and used for inferior cordage. It is,
however, a good and strong hemp, but will rtot make
fine W'ork. There are doubtless many good hemps in
the southern parts « f Europe, but little of them is
brought to our market. Codilla, half clean, &e. are
portions of the above-mentioned hemps, separated by
the dressing, and may be considered as broken fibres
of those hemps.
Only the first qualities are manufactured for the rig.,
ging of the royal navy and for the ships of the East
India Company.
Rope-making is an art of very great importance, and
there are few that better deserve the attention of the in¬
telligent observer. Hardly any art can be carried on
without the assistance of the rope-maker. Cordage
makes the very sinews and muscles of a ship ; and every
improvement which can be made in its preparation, ei¬
ther in respect to strength or pliableness, must be of im¬
mense service to the mariner, and to the commerce and
the defence of nations.
Weshall givea very shortaccount of the manufacture,
which will not indeed fully instruct the artificers, but
will give such a view of the process as shall enable the
reader to judge, from principles, of the propriety of the
different parts of the manipulation, and perceive its de¬
fects, and the means for removing them.
The aim of the rope-maker is to unite the strength
of a great number of fibres. This would be done in
the completest manner by laying the fibres parallel to
each other, and fastening the bundle at the two ends:'
but this would be of very limited use, because the fi¬
bres are short, not exceeding three feet and a half at an
average. They must therefore be entangled together
in such a manner that the strength of a fibre shall not
be able to draw it out from among the rest of the bun¬
dle. This is done by twisting or twining them together,
which causes them mutually to compress each other.
When the fibres are so disposed in a long skain, tha.t
their ends succeed each other along its length, without
many of them meeting in one place, and this skain is
twisted round and round, we may cause them to com¬
press each other to any degree we please, and the fric¬
tion on a fibre which we attempt to pull out may be
more than its cohesion can overcome. It will therefore
break. Consequently, if we pull at this twisted skain,
we will not separate it by drawing one parcel out from
among the rest, but the whole fibres will break ; and
if the distribution of the fibres has been very equable,
the skain will.be nearly of the same strength in every
part. If there is any part where many ends of fibres
meet, the skain will break in that part.
We know very well that we can twist a skain of
fibres so very hard, that it will lire k with any attempt
to
Rope.
Rope*
making
Importance
of the art
of rope-
making.
The aim of
which is to
unite the
strength of
numerous
fibres.
KOI' t 272 ] R 0 P
'TUspe-
making.
7’he?e fi-
Lres may
he so much
twisted as to
break with
the least
additional
twist.
4
Practical
inference.
Method to
be observed
in twisting
the fibres.
6
Spinning
of rope-
yarns.
Description
of the ap¬
paratus and
manner of
using it.
Plate
CCCCLXV.
fig. 1.
to twist it harder. In this state all the fibres are al¬
ready strained to the utmost of their strength. Such a
skain of fibres can have no strength. It cannot carry a
weight, because each fibre is already strained in the
same manner as if loaded with as much weight as it is
able to bear. What we have said of this extreme case is
true in a certain extent of every degree of twist that we
give the fibres. Whatever force is actually exerted by
a twisted fibre, in order that it may sufficiently compress
the rest to hinder them from being drawn out, must be
considered as a weight hanging on that fibre, and must
be deduced from its absolute strength of cohesion, before
we can estimate the strength of the skain. The strength
of the skain is the remainder of the absolute strength
of the fibres, after we have deduced the force employ¬
ed in twisting them together.
From this observation may be deduced a fundamental
principle in rope-making, that all twisting, beyondwhat
is necessary for preventing the fibres from being drawn
out without breaking, diminishes the strength of the
cordage, and should be avoided when in our power. It
is of importance to keep this in mind.
It is necessary then to twist the fibres of hemp toge¬
ther, in order to make a rope; but we should make a
very bad rope if we contented ourselves with twisting
together a bunch of hemp sufficiently large to with¬
stand the strains to which the rope is to be exposed.
As soon as we let it go out of our hands, it would un¬
twist itself and be again a loose bundle of hemp ; for
the fibres are strained, and they are in a considerable
degree elastic; they contract again, and thus untwist
the rope or skain. It is necessary to continue the twist
in such a manner, that the tendency to untwist in one
part may act against the same tendency in another and
balance it. The process, therefore, of rope-making is
more complicated.
The first part of this process is spinning of rope-
yarns. This is done in various ways, and with differ¬
ent machinery, according to the nature of the intended
cordage We shall confine our description to the ma¬
nufacture of the larger kinds, such as are used for the
standing and running rigging of ships.
An alley or walk is inclosed for the purpose, about
200 fathoms long, and of a breadth suited to the extent
of the manufacture. It is sometimes covered above.
At the upper end of this rope-walk is set up the spin¬
ning-wht: el, of a form resembling that in fig. 1. The
band of this wheel goes over several rollers called
whirls, turning on pivots in brass holes. The pivots
at one end come through the frame, and terminate in
little hooks. The wheel being turned by a winch,
gives motion in one direction to all those whirls. The
spinner lias a bundle of dressed hemp round his waist,
with the two ends meeting before him. The hemp is
laid in this bundle in the same way that women spread
the flax on the distaff. There is great variety in this ;
but the general aim is to lay the fibres in such a man¬
ner, that as long as the bundle lasts there may be an
equal number of the ends at the extremity, and that a
fibre may never ofle.- itself double* or in a bight. 1 he
spinner draws out a proper number of fibres, twists them
witli his fingers, and having got a sufficient length de¬
tached, he fixes it to the hook of a whirl. The wheel
is now turned and the skain is twisted, becoming what
is called a rope-yaun, and the sp'nner walks back¬
wards down the rope-walk. The part already twisted (lope. ,
draws along with it more fibres out of the bundle. The malting :
spinner aids this with hisfingers, supplying hemp in due '■“’Y"
proportion as he walks awayfrom the wheel, and taking-
care that the fibres come in equally from both sides of
liis bundle, and that they enter always with their ends,
and not by the middle, which would double them. He
should abo endeavour to enter every fibre at the heart
of the yam. This will cause all the fibres to mix equal¬
ly in maxing it up, and will make the work smooth,
because one end of each fibre is by. this means buried
among the rest, and the other end only lies outward;
and this, in passing through the grasp of the spinner,
who presses it tight with his thumb and palm, is also
made to lie Smooth. The greatest fault that can be
committed in spinning is to alloAV a small thread to be
twisted off from one side of the hemp, and then to cover
this w ith hemp supplied from the other side : for it is
evident that the fibres of the central thread make very
long spirals, and the skin of fibres which covers them
must be much more oblique. This covering has but
little connection Avith what is below it, and will easily
be detached. But even w hile it remains, the yarn can¬
not be strong; for, on pulling it, the middle part,
which lies the straightest, must bear all the strain, Avhile
the outer fibres, that are lying obliquely, are only
drawn a little more parallel to the axis. This defect
Avill alwrays happen if the hemp be supplied in a consi¬
derable body to a yarn that is then spinning small. Into
whatever part of the yarn it is made to enter, it becomes
a sort of loosely connected wrapper. Such a yarn, when
untwisted a little, Avill have the appearance of fig. 2. Fig. $
Avhile a good yarn looks like fig. 3. A good spinner Fig. 3. I
therefore endeavours always to supply the hemp in the
form of a thin flat skain with his left hand, while his
right is employed in grasping firmly the yarn that is
twining off, and in holding it tight from the w hirl, that
it may not run into loops or kinks.
It is evident, that both the arrangement of the fibres
and the degree of twisting depend on the skill and dex¬
terity of the spinner, and that he must be instructed,
not by a book, but by a master. The degree of tAvist
depends on the rate of the wheel’s motion, combined
with the retrograde wTalk of the spinner.
We may suppose him arrived at the lower end of the
walk, or as far as is necessary for the intended length of
his yarn. He calls out, and another spinner immedi¬
ately detaches the yarn from the hook of the Avhirl,
gives it to another, wdio carries it aside to the reel, and
this second spinner attaches his ow n hemp to the whirl
hook. In the mean time, the first spinner keeps fast
hold of the end of his yarn ; for the hemp, being dry,
is very elastic, and if he Avere to let it go out of his hand
it Avould instantly untwist, and become little better than
loose hemp. He waits, therefore, till he sees the reeler
begin to turn the reel, and he goes slowly up the walk,
keeping the yarn of an equal tightness all the way, till
he arrives at the wheel, where he waits wutL his yarn in
hand till another spinner has finished his yarn. 1 he first
spinner takes it off the whirl hook, joins it to his ow n, that
it may folloAv it on the reel, and begins a new yarn. 8
Rope-yarns, for the greatest part of the large rig- Differ
ging, are from a quarter of an inch to somewhat more rindso
than a third of an inch in circumference, or of such a rofe
size that ICO fathoms Aveigh from three and a half to
four
r
U O T L ^73 ] K O P
ipe- four pounds when wmte The different sizes of yarns artists themselves to a tiling which they seem to have Hope*
i iino- are named from the number of them contained in a overlooked. * making
^ rW strand of a rope of three inches in circumference. Few Let m <1, n d (fig. 4.) be two yarns fixed to one '—'V-
are so coarse that 16 will make a strand of British cor- point d, and let both of them be twisted, each round its k
dage ; 18 is not unfrequent for cable yarns, or yarns
spun from harsh and coarse hemp ; 25 is, we believe,
the finest size which is worked up for the rigging of a
ship. Much finer are indeed spun for sounding lines,
fishing lines, and many other marine uses, and for the
other demands of society. Ten good spinners will work
up above 600 weight of hemp in a day ; but this de¬
pends on the weather. In very dry weather the hemp
is very elastic, and requires great attention to make
smooth work. In the warmer climates, the spinner
is permitted to moisten the rag with which he grasps
the yarn in his right hand for each yarn. No work
can lie done in an open spinning walk in rainy weather,
because the yarns would not take on the tar, if immedi¬
ately tarred, and would rot if kept on the reel for a
I () long time.
j: od of The second part of the process is the conversion ©f
cc :rt‘n8 the yarns into what may with propriety be called a rope,
intci cor(h 01’ line. That we may have a clear conception of
IJo , the principle which regulates this part of the process,
co , or we shall begin with the simplest possible case, the union
b of two yarns into one line. This is not a very usual
fabric for rigging, but we select it for its simplicity.
When hemp has been split into very fine fibres by the
hatchel, it becomes exceedingly soft and pliant, and af¬
ter it has lain for some time in the form of fine yarn, it
may be unreeled and thrown loose, without losing much
of its twist. Two such yarns may be put on the whirl
of a spinning wheel, and thrown, like flaxen yarn, so
as to make sewing thread. It is in this way, indeed,
that the sailmaker’s sewingthread is manufactured; and
when it has keen kept on the reel, or on balls or bob¬
bins, for some time, it retains its twist as well as its uses
require. But this is by no means the case with yarns
spun for great cordage. The hemp is so elastic, the
number of fibres twisted together is so great, and the
diameter of the yarn (which is a sort of lever on which
the elasticity of the fibre exerts itself) is so considerable,
that no keeping will make the fibres retain this con¬
strained position. The end of a rope yarn being thrown
loose, it will immediately untwist, and this with consi¬
derable force and speed. It would, therefore, be a
fruitless attempt to twist two such yarns together; yet
the ingenuity of man has contrived to make use of this
very tendency to untwist not only to counteract itself,
but even to produce another and a permanent twist,
which requires force to undo it, and which Avill recover
itself when this force is I’emoved. Every person must
recollect that, when he has twisted a packthread very
hard with his fingers between his two hands, if he slac¬
kens the thread by bringing his hands nearer together,
the packthread will immediately curl up, running into
loops or kinks, and will even twist itselfinto a neat and
firm cord. Familiar as this fact is, it would puzzle any
person not accustomed to these subjects to explain it
with distinctness. We shall consider it with some care,
not as a piece of mechanical curiosity, but as a funda¬
mental principle in this manufacture, which will give us
clear instructions to direct us in the most delicate part
of the whole process. And we beg the attention of the
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
own axis, in the direction n b c, which will cause the
fibres to lie in a screw form, as represented in the figure.
If the end d of the yarn m d were at liberty to turn
round the point d, it would turn accordingly, as often
as the end in is turned round, and the yarn would ac¬
quire no twist; but being attached to some solid body,
it cannot turn without turning this body. It has, how¬
ever, this tendency, and the body must be forcibly pre¬
vented from turning. If it be held fast for a time, and
then let go, it will be turned round, and it will not
stop till it has turned as often as the end m has been
twdsted, and noAV all the twist Avill be undone. Thus
it is the tendency of the yarn m d to untwist at the end
d (because it is kept fast at m), Avhich produces this
motion of the body attached to it at d. What avc
have said of the yarn m d is equally true of the yarn
n d. Both tend to turn, and will turn, the body at¬
tached at d round the common axis, in the same direc¬
tion in which they are twisted. Let fig. 5. be supposed Fig. 5,
a cross section of the tAvo yarns touching each other at
d, and there glued to a board. The fibres of each pull
obliquely, that is, they both pull away from the board,
and pull laterally. The direction of this lateral pull of
the fibres in the circumference of each yarn is repre¬
sented by the little darts drawn round the circumfe¬
rences. These actions directly oppose and balance each
other at d ; but in the semicircles o e t, I f o, they evi¬
dently conspire to turn the board round in the same di¬
rection. The same may be said of the outer halves of
any circles described Avithin these. In the inner halves
of th ese inner circles the actions of some fibres oppose
each other; but in every circle there are many more
conspiring actions than opposing ones, and the conspir¬
ing actions exert themselves by longer levers, so that
their joint momentum greatly exceeds that of the oppo¬
sing forces. It may be demonstrated, that if all the
fibres exert equal forces, the force which tends to turn
the board round the common axis is two-thirds of the
force employed to twist both the yarns.
Suppose then that the solid body to which the yarns
are attached is at liberty to turn round the common
axis; it cannot do this without carrying the yarns
round with it. They must, therefore, turn round each
other, and thus compose a rope or cord k l, having its
component yarns (iioav called strands) lying in a dl ec-
tion opposite to that of the fibres in each strand. The
rope Avill take this twist, while each of the strands is
really untwisting, and the motion will not stop till all
is again in equilibrio. If the yarns had no diameter and
no rigidity, their elastic contraction would not be ba¬
lanced till the cord had made half the number of turns
which had been given to that part of the yarn which is
thus doubled up. But, as the yarns have a sensible dia¬
meter, the same ultimate contraction of the fibres will
be expended by the twisting of the cord in fewer turns,
even if the yarns had no rigidity. The turns necessary
for this purpose will be so much fewer, in proportion to
the twist of the yarns, as the fibres of the yarn lie
more obliquely, that is, as the yarns are more tAvisted.
But further, this contractile force has to overcome the
t M m rigidity
11 OP [ 274 ] HOP
Hope- rigidity or stiffness of the yarns. This requires force
making, merely to bend it into the screw form ; and therefore,
when all is again at rest, the fibres are in a state of strain,
and the rope is not so much closed by doubling as it
would have been had the yarns been softer. If any
thing can be done to it in this state which will soften
the yarns, it will twist itself more up. It has therefore
a tendency to twist more up ; and if this be aided by an
external force which will bend the strands, this will hap¬
pen. Beating it with a soft mallet will have this ef¬
fect ; or, if it be forcibly twisted till the fibres are al¬
lowed to contract as much as they would have done had
the yarn been perfectly soft, the cord will keep this
twist without any effort; and this must be considered as
its most perfect state, in relation to the degree of twist
originally given to the yarns. It will have no tendency
to run into kinks, which is both troublesome and dan¬
gerous, and the fibres will not be exerting any useless
effort.
To attain this state should therefore be the aim of
every part of this second process ,* and this principle
should be kept in view through the whole of it.
The component parts of a rope are called strands, as
has been already observed; and the operation of uniting
them with a permanent twist is called laying or closing,
the latter term being chiefly appropriated to cables and
10 other very large cordage.
Description Lines and cordage less than 14 inches circumference
ot the ma- are ]aj(] at the spinning-wheel. The workman fastens
and mode t^e en^s eac^ two or three yarns to separate whirl-
of using it. hooks. The remote ends are united in a knot. This is
put on one of the hooks of a swivel called the loper, re-
Fig. 6. presented in fig. 6. and care is taken that the yarns are
of equal lengths and twist. A piece of soft cord is put
on the other hook of the loper; and, being put over a
pulley several feet from the ground, a weight is hung on
it, which stretches the yarn. When the workman sees
that they are equally stretched, he orders the wheel to
be turned in the same direction as when twining the
yarns. This would twine them harder; but the swivel
ct the loper gives way to the strain, and the yarns im¬
mediately twist around each other, and form a line or
cord. In doing this the yarns lose their tw ist. This is
restored by the wheel. But this simple operation would
make a very bad line, which would be slack, and would
not hold its twist; for, by the turning of the loper, the
strands twdst immediately together, to a great distance
from tne loper. By this turning of the loper the yarns
are untwisted. The wrheel restores their twist only to
that part of the yarns that remain separate from the
others, but cannot do it in that part where they are al¬
ready twined round each other, because their mutual
pressure prevents the twist from advancing. It is, there¬
fore, necessary to retard this tendency to twine, by
keeping the yarns apart. This is done by a little tool
Fig. 7. called the top, represented in fig. 7.
It is a truncated cone, having three or more notches
along its sides, and a ham’da called the staff. This is
put between the strands, the small end next the loper,
and it is pressed gently into the angle formed by the
yarns which lie in the notches. The wheel being now
tufned, tire yarns are more twisted, or hardened up, and
their pressure on the top gives it a strong tendency to
come out of the angle, and also to turn round. The
w or liman does trot allow this till he thinks the yarns
sufficiently hardened. Then he yields to the pressure, Rope,
and the top comes away from the swivel, which imme- making
diately turns round, and the line begins to lay.—Gra- ''"■■'Y*
dually yielding to this pressure, the workman slowly
comes up towards the wheel, and the laying goes on,
till the top is at last close to the wheel, and the work is
done. In the mean time, the yarns are shortened, both
by the twining of each and the laying of the cord. The
weight, therefore, gradually rises. The use of this
weight is evidently to oblige the yarn to take a proper
degree of twist, and not run into kinks.
A cord or line made in this wray has always some
tendency to twist a little more. However little friction
there may be in the loper, there is some, so that the
turns which the cord has made in the laying are not
enough to balance completely the elasticity of the yarns;
and the weight being appended causes the strands to be
more nearly in the direction of the axis, in the same
manner as it would stretch and untwist a little any rope
to which it is hung. On the whole, however, the twist of
a laid line is permanent, and not like that upon thread
doubled or thrown in a mill, which remains only in con¬
sequence of the great softness and flexibility of the yarn. jj
The process for laying or closing large cordage is Largeo
considerably different from this. The strands of which hawser-
the rope is composed consist of many yarns, and re- cor
quire a considerable degree of hardening. This cannot ‘?a"e 1S (1
be done by a whirl driven by a wheel band ; it requires
the power of a crank turned by the hand. The strands,
when properly hardened, become very stiff, and when
bent round the top are not able to transmit force enough
for laying the heavy and unpliant rope which forms
beyond it. The elastic twist of the hardened strands
must, therefore, be assisted by an external force. All
this requires adifferentmachineryandadifferent process. ^3
At the upper end of'the walk is fixed up the tackle- ^^1
hoard, fig. 8. This consists of a strong oaken plank and me I
called a breast-hoard, having three or more holes in it, of usin j
such as A, B, C, fitted with brass or iron plates. Into ‘
these are put iron cranks, called heavers, which have ^ '
hooks, or forelocks, and keys, on the ends of their
spindles. They are placed at such a distance from each
other, that the workmen do not interfere with each
other while turning them round. This breast-board is
fixed to the top of strong posts well secured by struts
or braces facing the lower end of the walk. At the
lower end is another breast-board fixed to the upright
posts of a sledge, which may be loaded with stones or
other weights. Similar cranks are placed in the holes
of this breast-board. The whole goes by the name of
the sledge ; (see fig. 9.). The top necessary for closing pig. 9.1
large cordage is too heavy to be held in the hand. It
therefore has a long staff’ which has a truck on the
end. This rests on the ground; but even this is not
enough in laying great cables. The top must be sup¬
ported on a carriage, as shown in fig. 10. where it must Fig. j
lie very steady, and need no attendance, because the ma¬
ster workman has sufficient employment in attending to
the manner in which the strands close behind the top,
and in helping them by various methods. The top is,
therefore, fixed to the carriage by lashing its staff to
the two upright posts. A piece of soft rope, or strap,
is attached to the handle of the top by the middle, and
its two ends are brought back and wrapped several times
tight round the rope, in the direction of its twist, and
bound
E 0 P [ 275 ] E O P
pe- bound down. This is shown at W, and it greatly as-
i dng. sjsts (]ie laying of the rope by its friction. This both
^ keeps the top from flying too far from the point of
union of the strands, and brings the strands more regu¬
larly into their places.
The first operation is warping the yarns. At each
end of the walkare frames called warping frames, which
carry a great number of reels or winches filled with
rope-yarn. The foreman of the walk takes off a yarn
end from each, till he has made up the number neces¬
sary for his rope or strand, and bringing the ends toge¬
ther, he passes the whole through an iron ring fixed to
the top of a stake driven into the ground, and draws
them through : then a knot is tied on the end of the
bundle, and a workman pulls it through this ring till
the intended length is drawn off the reels. The end is
made fast at the bottom of the walk, or at the sledge,
und the foreman comes back along the skain of yarns,
to see that none are hanging slacker than the rest. He
takes up in his hand such as are slack, and draws them
tight, keeping them so till he reaches the upper end,
where he cuts the yarns to a length, again adjusts their
tightness, and joins them all together in a knot, to
which he fixes the hook of a tackle, the other block of
whichisfixedtoafirmpost,calledthe tvarping-post. The
skain is well stretched by this tackle, and then separated
into its different strands. Each of these is knotted a-
part at both ends. The knots at their upper ends are
made fast to the hooks of the cranks in the tackle-board,
and those at their lower ends are fastened to the cranks
in the sledge. The sledge itself is kept in its place by
a tackle, by which the strands are again stretched in
their places, and every thing adjusted, so that the sledge
stands square on the walk, and then a proper weight
is laid on it. The tackle is now cast off and the cranks
are turned at both ends, in the contrary direction to
the twist of the yarns. (In some kinds of cordage
the cranks are turned the same way with the spinning
twist). By this the strands are twisted and hardened
up; and as they contract by this operation, the sledge
is dragged up the walk. When the foreman thinks the
strands sufficiently hardened, which he estimates by
the motion of the sledge, he orders the heavers at the
cranks to stop. The middle strand at the sledge is ta¬
ken off from the crank. This crank is taken out, and
a stronger one put in its place at D, fig. 9. The other
strands are taken off from their cranks, and all are join¬
ed on the hook which is now in the middle hole. The
top is then placed between the strands, and, being press¬
ed home to the point of their union, the carriage is
placed under it, and it is firmly fixed down. Some
weight is taken off the sledge. The heavers now begin
to turn at both ends. Those at the tackle-board con¬
tinue to turn as they did before ; but the heavers at the
sledge turn in the opposite direction to the former mo¬
tion, so that the cranks at both ends are now turning
one way. By the motion of the sledge crank the top
is forced away from the knot, and the rope begins to
close. The heaving at the upper end restores to the
strands the twist which they are constantly losing by the
laying of the rope. The workmen judge of this by
making a chalk mark on intermediate points of the
strands, where they he on the stakes -which are set up
along the walk for their support. If the twist of the
brands is diminished by the motion of closing, they
will lengthen, and the chalk mark will move away from Hope
the tackle-board : but if the twist increases by turning making,
the cranks at the tackle-board, the strands will shorten,
and the mark will come nearer to it.
As the closing of the rope advances, the whole
shortens, and the sledge is dragged up the walk. The
top moves faster, and at last reaches the upper end of
the walk, the rope being now laid. In the mean time
the sledge has moved several fathoms from the place
where it was when the laying began.
These motions of the sledge and top must be exactly
adjusted to each other. The rope must be of a certain
length. Therefore the sledge must stop at a certain
place. At that moment the rope should be laid; that
is, the top should be at the tackle-board. In this con¬
sists the address of the foreman. He has his attention
directed both ways. He looks at the strands, anti when
he sees any of them hanging slacker between the stakes
than the others, he calls to the heavers at the tackle-
board to heave more upota that strand. He finds it
more difficult to regulate the motion of the top. It re¬
quires a considerable force to keep it in the angle of the
strands, and it is always disposed to start forward. To
prevent or check this, some straps of soft rope are
brought round the staff of the top, and then wrapped
several times round the rope behind the top, and kept
firmly down by a lanyard or bandage, as is shown in
the figure. This both holds back the top and greatly
assists the laying of the rope, causing the strands to fall
into their places, and keep close to each other. This is
sometimesvery difficult, especially in ropes composed of
more than three strands. It will greatly improve the
laying the rope, if the top have a sharp, smooth
tapering pin of hard wood, pointed at the end, project¬
ing so far from the middle of its smaller end that it
gets in between the strands which are closing. This
supports them, and makes their closing more gradual
and regular. The top, its notches, the pin, and the
warp or strap, Avhich is lapped round the rope, are all
smeared with grease or soap to assist the closing. The
foreman judges of the progress of closing chiefly by his
acquaintance with the walk, knowing that when the
sledge is abreast of a certain stake the top should be a-
breast of a certain other stake. When he finds the top
too far down the walk, he slackens the motion at the
tackle-board, and makes the men turn briskly at the
sledge. By this the top is forced up the walk, and the
laying of the rope accelerates, while the sledge remains
in the same place, because the strands are losing their
twist, and are lengthening, while the closed rope is
shortening. When, on the other hand, he thinks the
top too far advanced, and fears that it will be at the
head of the walk before the sledge has got to its proper
place, he makes the men heave briskly o:> the strands,
and the heavers at the sledge crank to work sof\ly.~
This quickens the motion of the sledge by shortening
the strands; and by thus compensating what has
been overdone, the sledge and top come to their places
at once, and the work appears to answer the intention. l3
But this is a bad manner of proceeding. It is evi- gome im.
dent, that if the strands be kept to one degree of hard- proprieties
ness throughout, and the heaving at the sledge be urn- in this pro-
fovmly continued, the rope will be uniform. It may :^*s ^lted
be a little longer or shorter than w as intended, and the 5
laying may be too hard in proportion to the twist of
M m 2 the
It 0 T
[ m ]
it o p
Rope¬
making,
14
another
method
proposed,
&c.
the strands, in which case it will not keep it; or it may
be too slack, and the rope will tend to twist more. Ei¬
ther of these faults is discoverable by slackening the
rope before it come off the hooks, and it may then be
corrected. But if the error in one place be compensated
by that in another, this will not be easily seen before
taking off the hooks ; and if it is a large and stiff rope,
it will hardly ever come to an equable state in its different
parts, but will be apt to run into loops during service.
It is, therefore, of importance to preserve the uni¬
formity throughout the whole. M. Du Hamel, in his
great work on rope-making, proposes a method which
is very exact, but requires an apparatus which is cum¬
bersome, and which would be milch in the Avay of the
workmen. We think that the following method would
be extremely easy, embarrass no one, and is perfectly
exact. Having determined the proportion between the
velocity of the top and sledge, let the diameter of the
truck of the top carriage be to that of another truck
fixed to the sledge, in the proportion of the velocity of
the top to that of the sledge. Let a mark be made on
the rim of each ; let the man at the sledge make a sig¬
nal every time that the mark on the sledge truck is up¬
permost. The mark on the carriage truck should be
uppermost at the same instant; and in this way the
foreman knows the state of the rope at all times with¬
out quitting his station. Thus, in making a cable of
120 fathoms, it is usual to warp the yarns 180 fathoms,
and to harden them up to 140 before closing. There¬
fore, in the closing, the top must have 140 fathoms,
and the sledge only 20. The diameter of the carriage
truck should therefore be seven times the diameter of
the sledge truck.
We have hitherto proceeded on the supposition, that
the twist produced by the cranks is propagated freely
along the strands and along the closing rope. But
this is not the case. It is almost unavoidable that the
twist is greater in the neighbourhood of the crank
which produces it. The strands are frequently of very
considerable weight, and lie heavy on the stakes. Force
is therefore necessary to overcome their friction, and it
is only the overplus that is propagated beyond the stake.
It is proper to lift them up from time to time, and let
them fall down again, as the sawer does with his
marking line. This helps the twist to run along the
strand. But this is not enough for the closed rope,
which is of much greater weight, and much stiffer.—
When the top approaches the tackle-board, the heaving
at the sledge could not cause the strands immediately be¬
hind the top to close well, without having previously
produced an extravagant degree of twist in the inter¬
mediate rope. The effort of the crank must therefore
be assisted by men stationed along the rope, each fur¬
nished with a tool called a rvoolder. This is a stout oak
stick about three feet long, having a strap of soft rope-
yarn or cordage fastened on its middle or end. The
strap is wrapped round the laid rope, and the workman
works with the stick as a lever, twisting the rope round
in the direction of the crank’s motion. The woolders
should keep their eye on the men at the crank, and
make their motion correspond with his. Thus they
send forward the twist produced by the crank, without
either increasing or diminishing it, in that part of the
yppe which lies between them and the sledge.
It is usual before taking the rope from the hooks to Rope,
heave a while at the sledge end, in order to harden the niahr>g
rope a little. They do this so as to take it up about WY*
j>r). The propriety or impropriety of this practice de¬
pends entirely on the proportion which has been previ¬
ously observed between the hardening of the strands and
the twisting of the closing rope. It is, in all cases,
better to adjust these precisely, and then nothing re¬
mains to be done when the top has arrived at the upper
end of the walk. The making of two strand and three
strand line pointed out the principle which should be
attended to in this case; namely, that the twist given
to the rope in laying should be precisely wrhat a per¬
fectly soft rope would give to itself. We do not see
any reason for thinking that the proportion betw een the
number of turns given to the strands and the number
of turns given to the laid line by its own elasticity, will
vary by any difference of diameter. We would there¬
fore recommend to the artists to settle this proportion
by experiment. The line should be made of the finest,
smallest, and softest threads or yarn. These should be
made into strands, and the strands should be harden¬
ed up in the direction contrary to the spinning twist.
The rope should then be laid, hanging perpendicularly,
with a small weight on the top to keep it down, and a
very small weight at the end of the rope. The num¬
ber of turns given to the strands should be carefully
noticed, and the number of turns which the rope takes
of itself in closing. The weight should then be taken
off, and the rope will make a few turns more. This
whole number will never exceed what is necessary for
the equilibrium ; and we imagine it will not fall much
short of it. We are clearly of opinion that an exact ad¬
justment of this particular will tend greatly to improve
the art of rope-making, and that experiments on good
principles for ascertaining this proportion would be
highly valuable, because there is no point about which
the artists themselves differ more in their opinions and
practice. 15 ]
The cordage, of which we have been describing the Modem’ I
manufacture, is said to be hawser laid. It is not ''taking |
uncommon to make ropes of four strands. These are s,ir<jul*“
used for shrouds, and this cordage is therefore called oHbuf
shro0d-laid Cordage. A rope of the same size and strands,
weight must be smoother when it has four strands, be¬
cause the strands are smaller: but it is more difficult
to lay close. When three cylindrical strands are simply
laid together, they leave a vacuity at the axis amounting
to jL of the section of a strand. This is to be filled
up by compressing the strands by twisting them. Each
must fill up l of it by changing its shape; and ^ of this
change is made on each side of the strand. The great¬
est change of shape therefore made on any one part of
a strand amounts only to of the section of the
strand. The vacuity between four cylinders is TST of
one of them. This being divided into eight parts, is
of a strand, and is the greatest compression which
any part of it has to undergo. This is nearly five times
gi eater than the former, and must be more difficult to
pi ounce. Indeed it may be seen by looking at the fi-
guies I I. and 12. that it will be easier to compress a Fig.ID
stiand into the obtuse angle of 120 degrees than into 12.
the right angle of [)0; and without reasoning more
about the matter, it appears that the difficulty will in¬
crease
I j
HOP [ 277 ] HOP
ope. crease with the number of strands. Six strands must
king, touch each other, and form an arch leaving a hollow in
v y--^ the middle, into which one of the strands will slip, and
then the rest will not completely surround it. Such a
rope would be uneven on the surface. It would be
weak; because the central strand would be slack in
comparison of the rest, and would not be exerting its
whole force when they are just ready to break. We
see then that a four strand rope must be more difficult
to lay well than a hawser-laid rope. With care, how-
^ ever, they may be laid wrell and close, and are much
j, jyui, used in the royal navy.
a irt in Ropes are made of four strands, with a heart or
tli Diddle, strand in the middle. This gives no additional strength,
for the reason just now given. Its only use is to make
the work better and more easy, and to support all the
strands at the same distance from the axis of the rope.
This is of great consequence j because when they are
at unequal distances from the axis, some must be more
sloping than others, and they wull not resist alike. This
heart is made of inferior stuff, slack laid, and of a size
just equal to the space it is to fill. When a rope of
this fabric has been longused and becomeunserviceable,
and is opened out, the heart is always found cut and
chaffed to pieces, like very short oakum. This happens
as follows: When the rope is violently strained, it
stretches greatly; because the strands surround the axis
obliquely, and the strain draws them into a position
more parallel to the axis. But the heart has not the
obliquity of parts, and cannot stretch so much ; at the
same time its yarns are firmly grasped by the hard
strands which surround them; they must therefore be
torn into short pieces.
The process for laying a rope with a heart is not
very different from that already described. The top
has a hole pierced through it, in the direction of the
axis. The skain or strand intended for the heart passes
through this hole, and is stretched along the walk. A
boy attends it, holding it tight as it is taken into
the closing rope. But a little attention to what has
been said will show this method to be defective. The
wick will have no more turns than the laid rope ; and
as it lies in the very axis, its yarns will be much
straighter than the strands. Therefore when the rope
is strained and stretched, the wick cannot stretch as
much as the laid strands; and being firmly grasped by
them, it must break into short pieces, and the strands,
having lost their support in those places, will sink in,
and the cordage grow loose. We should endeavour to
enable all to stretch alike. The wick therefore should
be twisted in the same manner as the strands, perhaps
even a little more. It will thus communicate part of
its strength to the rope. Indeed it wnll not be so uni¬
formly solid, and may chance to have three spiral va-
cuities. But that this does no harm, is quite evident
from the superior strength of cable-laid cordage, to be
described presently, which has the same vacuities. In
this way are the main and fore stays made for ships of
the line. They are thought stronger than hawser-
laid ropes; but unfit for running rigging, because their
strands are apt to get out of their places when the rope
is drawn into loops. It is also thought that the heart
retains water, rots, and comnumicates its putrefaction to
the surrounding strands.
Such is the general and essential process of rope-ma- Rope-
king. The fibres of hemp are twisted into yarns, that
they may make a line of any length, and stick among
each other with a force equal to their own cohesion. Recapitu-
1 he yarns are made into cords of permanent twist by lation.
laying them; and, that we may have a rope of any de¬
gree of strength, many yarns are united in one strand,
for the same reason that many fibres were united in one
yarn; and in the course of this process it is in our
power to give the rope a solidity and hardness which
makes it less penetrable by water, which would rot it in
a short while. Some of these purposes are inconsistent
with others: and the skill of a rope-maker lies in ma¬
king the best compensation ; so that the rope may on
the whole be the best in point of strength, pliancy, and
duration, that the quantity of hemp in it can produce. 18
There is another species of cordage in very general Mode of
use. A rope of two or more strands may be used as a mf^ng.
strand, in order to compose a still larger rope ; and in cordwe*^
this manner are cables and other ground tackle com- 0 "
monly made ; for this reason such cordage is called
cable-laid cordage.
I he process of cable-laying hardly differs from that
of hawser-laying. Three ropes, in their state of per¬
manent twist, may be twisted together; but they will
not hold it, like fine thread, because they are stiff and
elastic. They must therefore be treated like strands
for a hawser. We must give them an additional twist,
which will dispose them to lay or close themselves; and
this disposition must be aided by the workmen at the
sledge. We say the twist should be an addition to their
twist as a rope. A twist in the opposite direction will
indeed give them a disposition to close behind the top ;
but this will be very small, and the ropes (now strands)
will be exceedingly open, and will become more open
in laying. The twdst is therefore given in the direc¬
tion of their twist as a rope, or opposite to that of the
primary strands, of which the ropes are composed.
These primary strands are thereforepartly untwisted in
cable-laying a i*ope, in the same manner as the yarns
are untw isted in the usual process of rope-making.
We need not insist farther on this part of the manu¬
facture. The reader must be sensible that the haw sers
intended for strands of a cable must not be so much
twisted as those intended to remain haw sers ; tor the
twist given to a finished hawser is presumed tobj that
which renders it most perfect, and it must be injuredby
any addition. The precise proportion, and the distri¬
bution of the working up between the hardening of the
strands and closing the cable, is a subject about which
the artists are no better agreed than in the case of haw¬
ser-laid cordage. We did not enter on this subject
while describing the process, because the introduction
of reasonings and principles would have hurt the sim¬
plicity of the description. The reader being now ac¬
quainted with the different parts of the manipulation,
and knowing what can be done on any occasion, will
nowr be able to judge of the propriety of the whole,
when he learns the principle on which the strength of
a rope depends.
We have already said, that a rope-yarn should bo-
twisted till a fibre will break rather than be pulled out ^Io<le of
from among the rest, and that all twisting beyond this is theMrt'nJh
injurious to the strength of the yarn: And we advanced 0f ropes.
this
HOP [ 278 ] BO P
Rope¬
making.
20
Effect of
twisting on
the strength
of ropes.
See.
rig. 13.
Fie
11.
this maxim upon this plain consideration, that it is need¬
less to bind them closer together, for they will already
break rather than come out; and because this closer
binding is produced only by forcibly wrapping the out¬
er fibres round the inner, and drawing the outer ones
tight. Thus these fibres are on the stretch, and are
strained as if a weight were hung on each of them.
The process of laying lines, of a permanent twist, shows
that we must do a little more. We must give the yarn
a degree of elastic contractility, which will make it lay
itself and form a line or cord which will retain its twist.
This must leave the fibres of the yarns in a state of
greater compression than is necessary for just keeping
them together. But more than this seems to be need¬
less and hurtful. The same maxim must direct us in
forming a rope consisting of strands, containing more
than one yarn. A needless excess of twist leaves them
strained, and less able to perform their office in the
rope.
It not unfrequently happens, that the workman, in
order to make his rope solid and firm, hardens up
the strands till they really break : and we believe that,
in the general practice of making large hawsers, many
of the outer yarns in the strands, especially those which
chance to be outermost in the laid rope, and are there¬
fore most strained, are broken during the operation.
But there is another consideration which should also
make us give no greater twist in any part of the opera¬
tion than is absolutely necessary for the firm cohesion of
the parts, and this independent of the strain to which
the fibres or yarns are subjected. Twisting causes all
the fibres to lie obliquely with respect to the axis or
general direction of the rope. It may just happen that
one fibre or one yarn shall keep in the axis, and remain
straight; all the rest must be oblique, and the more
oblique as they are farther from the axis, and as they
are more twisted. Now it is to be demonstrated,
that when any strain is given to the rope in the direc¬
tion of its length, a strain greater than this is actually
excited on the oblique fibres, and so much the greater
as they are more oblique:; and thus the fibres which
are already the weakest are exposed to the greatest
strains.
Let CF (fig. 13.) represent a fibre hanging from a
hook, and loaded with a weight F, which it is just able
to bear, but not more. This weight may represent the
absolute force of the fibre. Let such another fibre be
laid over the two pulleys A, B (fig. 14.), which are in
a horizontal line AB, and let weights F and f, equal
to the former, be hung on the ends of this fibre, while
another weight R, less than the sum of F and f, is hung
on the middle point C by a hook or thread. This weight
will draw down the fibre into such a position ACB,
that the three weights F, R, andJ] are in equilibrio by
the intervention of the fibre. We affirm that this weight
R is the measure of the relative strength of the fibre in
relation to the form ACB; for the fibre is equally
stretched in all its parts, and therefore in every part it
is strained by the force F. If therefore the weights F
and / are held fast, and any addition is made to the
weight R, the fibre must break, being already strained
to its full strength; therefore R measures its strength
in relation to its situation. Complete the parallelogram
ACBD, and draw the diagonal CD; because AB is
horizontal, and AC=BC, DC is vertical, and coin¬
cides with the direction CR, by which the Weight R Rope-
acts. The point C is drawn by three forces, which are
in equilibrio. They are therefore proportional to the
sides of a triangle, which have the same directions ; or,
the force acting in the direction CA is to that acting
in the direction CR as CA to CD. The point R is sup¬
ported by the two forces CA, CB, which are equivalent
to CD ; and therefore the weight F is to the weight R
as CA is to CD. Therefore the absolute strengths of
the two fibres, AC, BC, taken separately, are greater
than their united strengths in relation to their position
with respect to CR: and since this proportion remains
the same, whatever equal weights are hung on at F and
Jl it follows, that when any strain DC is made to act on
this fibre in the direction DC, it excites a greater strain
on the fibre, because CA and CB taken together are
greater than CD. Each fibre sustains a strain greater
than the half of CD.
Now let the weight R be turned round the axis CR.
This will cause the two parts of the fibre ACB to lap
round each other, and compose a twisted line or cord
CR, as in fig. 15. and the parallelogram ACBD will Fig. 1
remain of the same form, by the yielding of the weights
F and f, as is evident from the equilibrium of forces.
The fibre will always assume that form which makes the
sides and diagonal in the proportion of the weights.
'While the fibres lap round each other, they are strained
to the same degree, that is, to the full extent of their
strength, and they remain in this degree of strain in
every part of the iine or cord CR. If therefore each
of the fibres has the strength AB, the cord has the
strength DC ; and if F and /be held fast, the smallest
addition to R wdll break the cord. The sum of the
absolute strength of the two fibres of which this thread
is composed is to the sum of their relative strengths, or
to the strength of the thread, as AC-j-CB is to CD, or
as AC is to EC.
If the weights F and/are not held fast, but allowed
to yield, a heavier weight r may be hung on at C with¬
out breaking the fibre; for it will draw it into another
position A c B, such that r shall be in equilibrio with F
and/. Since F and/remain the same, the fibre is as
much strained as before. Therefore make cfc c b equal
to CA and CB, and complete the parallelogram a c b d,
c d will now be the measure of the weight r, because it
is the equivalent of c « and c b. It is evident that c d
is greater than CD, and therefore the thread formed by
the lapping of the fibre in the position a c b is stronger
than the former, in the proportion of c d to CD, or c e
to CE. The cord is therefore so much stronger as the
fibres are more parallel to the axis, and it must be
strongest of all when they are quite parallel. Bring the
pulleys A, B, close to each other. It is plain that if
we hang on a weight R less than the sum of F and/
it cannot take down the bight of the fibre ; but if equal
to them, although it cannot pull it down, it will keep
it down. In this case, when the fibres are parallel to
each other, the strength of the cord (improperly so
called) is equal to the united absolute strengths of the
fibres.
It is easy to see that the length of each of the fibres
which compose any part CR of this cord is to the
length of the part of the cord as AC to EC; and this
is toe case even although they should lap round a cylin¬
der of any diameter. This will appear very clearly to
any
HOP [ 279 ] HOP
ope- any person who considers the thing with attention. Let
akiHg* a c (fig- 16.) be an indefinitely small portion of the
fibre which is lapped obliquely round the cylinder, and
let HKG be a section perpendicular to the axis. Draw
a e parallel to the axis, and draw c c to the centre of the
circle HKG, and a c' parallel to e c. It is plain that e' c
is the length of the axis corresponding to the small por¬
tion a c, and that e' c is equal to a e.
Hence we derive another manner of expressing the
ratio of the absolute and relative strength ; and we may
say that the absolute strength of a fibre, which has the
same obliquity throughout, is to its relative strength as
the length of the fibre to the length of the cord of which
it makes a part. And we may say, that the strength of
a rope is to the united absolute strength of its yarns as
the length of the cord to the length of the yarns ; for al¬
though the yarns are in various states of obliquity, they
contribute to the strength of the cord in as much as they
contribute immediately to the strength of the strands.
The strength of the yarns is to that of the strands as the
length of the yarns to that of the strands, and the
strength of the strands is to that of the rope as the
length of the first to that of the last
And thus we see that twisting the fibres diminishes
the strength of the assemblage; because their obliquity,
which is its necessary consequence, enables any external
force to excite a greater strain on the fibres than it
could have excited had they remained parallel; and
since a greater degree of twisting necessarily produces a
greater obliquity of the fibres, it must more remarkably
diminish the strength of the cord. Moreover, since the
greater obliquity cannot be produced without a greater
strain in the operation of twisting, it follows, that im¬
moderate twisting is doubly prejudicial to the strength
21 of cordage.
:oretical These theoretical deductions are abundantly confirm-
tinned5 ef^ ^7 experiment; and as many persons give their as-
Reau- sent more readily to a general proposition when present-
r’sexpc- ed as an induction from unexceptionable particulars,
ents, than when offered as the consequence of uncontroverted
principles, we shall mention some of the experiments
which have been made on this subject. Mr Reaumur,
one of the most zealous, and at the same time judicious,
observers of nature, made the following experiments.
(Mem. Acad. Paris, 1711).
1. A thread, consisting of 832 fibres of silk, each of
which carried at a medium 1 dram and 18 grains, would
hardly support 5| pounds, and sometimes broke with
6 pounds. The sum of the absolute strengths of the
fibres is 1040 drams, or upwards of 8 pounds 2 oun¬
ces.
2. A skain of white thread was examined in many
places. Every part of it bore pounds, but none of
it would bear 10. When twisted slack into a cord of
2 yarns it broke with 16 pounds.
3. Three threads were twisted together. Their mean
strength was very nearly 8 pounds. It broke with 17J-,
whereas it should have carried 24-.
4. Four threads were twisted. Their mean strength
■was 7£. It broke with 21 i instead of 30. Four threads,
whose strength was nearly 9 pounds, broke with 22 in¬
stead of 36.
5. A small and very well made hempen cord broke
in different places with 58, 63, 67, 72 pounds. Another
part of it was untwisted into its three strands. One
of them bore 29 A, another 33i, and the third 35 ; there- Rope-
fore the sum of their absolute strengths was 98. In an- makinS*
other part which broke with 72, the strands which had
already borne this strain were separated. They bore
26, 28, and SO ; the sum of which is 84. 22
Admiral Sir Charles Knowles made many experi- an(l b'/
ments on cordage of size. A piece of rope 3} inches of ,S,r
in circumference was cut into many portions. Each of C‘Knowles*
these had a fathom cut off, and it was carefully opened
out. It was white, or untarred, and contained 72
yarns. They were each tried separately, and their
mean strength was 90 pounds. Each corresponding
piece of rope was tried apart, and the mean strength of
the nine pieces was 4552 pounds. But 90 times 72 is
6480. gg
Nothing is more familiarly known to a seaman than Further re-.
the superior strength of rope-yarns made up into a skam rnarks on
without twisting. They call such a piece of rope a twistins’
-Salvage. It is used on board the king’s ships for
rolling tackles, slinging the great guns, butt-slings,
nippers for holding the viol on the cable, and in every
service where the utmost strength and great pliancy are
wanted.
It is therefore sufficiently established, both by theory
and observation, that the twisting of cordage diminishes
its strength. Experiments cannot be made with suffi¬
cient precision for determining whether this diminution
is in the very proportion, relative to the obliquity of
the fibres, which theory points out. In a hawser the
yarns lie in a great variety of angles with the axis. The
very outermost yarn of a strand is not much inclined to
the axis of the rope: for the inclination of this yarn
to the axis of its own strand nearly compensates for
the inclination of the strand. But then the opposite
yarn of the same strand, the yarn that is next the axis
of the rope lies with an obliquity, which is the sum of
the obliquities of the strand and of the yarn. So that
all the yarns which are really in the axis of the rope
are exceedingly oblique, and, in general, the inside of
the rope has its yarns more oblique than the outside.
But in a laid rope we should not consider the strength
as made up of the strengths of the yarns; it is made
up of the strengths of the strands: For when the rope is
violently stretched, it untwists as a rope, and the strands
are a little more twisted; so that they are resisting as
strands, and not as yarns. Indeed, when we consider
the process of laying the rope, we see that it must be so.
We know, from what has been already said, that the
three strands would carry more when parallel than when
twisted into a rope, although the yarns would then be
much more oblique to the axis. The chief attention
therefore should be turned to the making the most per¬
fect strands.
We are fully authorised to say that the twist given to
cordage should be as moderate as possible. We are cer¬
tain that it diminishes the strength, and that the appear¬
ance of strengthwhicb its superior smoothness and hard¬
ness gives is fallacious. But a certain degree of this is
necessary for its duration. If the rope is laid too slack,
its parts are apt to open when it happens to be catched
in short loops at its going into a pulley, &c. in which
case some of the strands or yarns are apt to kink and
break. It also becomes too pervious to water, which
soaks and rots it. To prevent these and other such in¬
convenience?, a considerable degree of firmness or hard¬
ness
BOP [ 280 ] II 0 P
Rope- j-jess is necessary j anti in order to give the cordage this
nuflring. appearance t)f superior strength, the manufacturer is dis-
posed to exceed.
Experi- Mr Du Hamel made many experiments in the royal
menis of dock-yards in France, with a view to ascertain what is
Du Hamel the i)est degree of twist. It is usual to work up the
t« ascertain yarns to 2 0f tfieir length. Mr Du Hamel thought this
•’ree^of1 ^ t°0 much, and procured some to be worked up only to
Twist, &c. f of the length of the yarns. The strength of the first,.
by a mean of three experiments, was 4324,-and that of
the last was 5187-
He caued three ropes to be madefrom the same hemp,
spun with-all possible equability, and in such proportion
of yarn that a fathom of each was of the same weight.
The rope which -was worked up to f bore 4098 pounds ;
that which was worked up to | bore 4850 ; and the one
worked up to § bore 6205. In anothertrialthe strengths
were 4250, 6753, and 7897- These ropes were of dif¬
ferent sizes.
He had influence enough, in consequence of these
experiments, to get a considerable quantity of rigging
made of yarns worked up only to | of their length,
and had them used during a wdiole campaign. The
officers of the ships reported that this cordage was
about A lighter than the ordinary kind ; nearly A slen¬
derer, so as to give less hold to the wind, was therefore
more simple and pliant, and run easier through the
blocks, and did not run into kinks ; that it required
fewer hands to work it, in the proportion of two to
three; and that it w'as at least | stronger. And they
said that it did not appear to have suffered more by us¬
ing than the ordinary cordage, and was fit for another
Campaign.
Mr Du Hamel also made experiments on other fa¬
brics of cordage, which made all twisting unnecessary,
such as simply laying the yarn in skains, and then co¬
vering it with a worming of small line. This he found
greatly superior in strength, but it had no duration,
because the covering opened in every short bending, and
was soon fretted off. He also covered them with a wo¬
ven coat in the manner practised for house-furniture.
But this could not be put on with sufficient tightness,
without an enormous expence, after the manner of a
horse whip. Small ropes were woven solid, and were
prodigiously strong. But all these fabrics were found
too soft and pervious to water, and were soon rendered
unserviceable. The ordinary process of rope-making
Therefoie must be adheied to; and v/emust endeavour
to improve it by diminishing the twist as far as is com¬
patible with the necessary solidity.
In pursuance of this principle, it is surely advisable
to lay slack all such cordage as is used for standing rig¬
ging, and is never exposed to short bendings. Shrouds,
stays, backstays, pendants, are in this situation, and
can easily be defended from the water by tarring, ser¬
ving, &c.
The s.ime principle also directs us to make such cor¬
dage of four strands. W hen the strands are equally
hardened, and when the degree of twist given in the
laying is precisely that which is correspondent to the
twist of the strands, it is demonstrable that the strands
are lying less obliquely to the axis in the four-strand cor¬
dage, and should therefore exert greater force. And
experience fully confirms this. Mr Du Hamel caused
two very small hawsers to be made, in which the strands
were equally hardened. One of them had three strands, Hops,
and the other six with a heart. They were worked op niabrj.
to the same degree. The first broke with 865 pounds,
and the other with 1325. Several comparisons were
mad?, with the same precautions, between cordage of
three and of four strands, and in them all the four-
strand cordage was found greatly superior; and it
appeared that a heart judiciously putin not only made
the work easier and more perfect to the eye, but also
increased the strength of the cordage.
It is surely unreasonable to refuse credit to such a
uniform course of experiment, in which there is no mo¬
tive for imposition, and which is agreeable to every
clear notion that we can form onthiscomplicatedsubject;
and it argues a considerable presumption in the profes-
sional artists to oppose the vaguenotionswhichthey have
of the matter to the calm reflections, and minute exa*
mination of every particular, by a man of good under¬
standing, who had no interest in misleading them. gj
The same principles will explain the supei'iority of Superiorit;
cable-laid cordage. The general aim in rope-making °f “We¬
is to make every yarn bear an equal share of the gene-
ral strain, and to put every yarn in a condition to bear ^
it. But if this cannot be done, the next thing aimed
at is, to put the yarn in such situations that the strains
to which they are exposed in the use of the rope may
be proportioned to their ability to bear it. Even this
point cannot be attained, and we must content our¬
selves with an approach towards it.
The greatest difficulty is to place the yarns of a large
strand agreeably to those maxims. Supposing them
placed with perfect regularity round the yam which is
in the middle: they will lie in the circumferences of
concentric circles. When this whole mass is turned
equally round this yarn as an axis, it is plain that they
will all keep their places, and that the middle yarn is
simply twisted round its axis, while those of the sur¬
rounding circles are lapped round it in spirals, and that
these spirals are so much more oblique as the yarns are
farther from the axis. Suppose the sledge kept fast, so
that the strand is not allowed to shorten. The yarns
must all be stretched, and therefore strained ; and those
must be the most extended which are the farthest from
the middle yarn. Now allow the sledge to approach.
The strand contracts in its general length, and those
yarns contract most which were most extended. The
remaining extension is therefore diminished in all; but
still those which are most remote from the middle are
most extended, and therefore most strained, and havq
the smallest remainder of their absolute force. Unfor¬
tunately they are put into the most unfavourable situa¬
tions, and those which are already most strained are left
the most oblique, and have the greatest strain laid on
them by any external force. But this is unavoidable:
Their greatest hurt is the strains they sustain in the ma¬
nufacture. W hen the strand is very ;arge, as in a nine-
inch hawser, it is almost impossible to bring the whole 2fi
to a proper firmness for laying without straining the In
outer yarns to the utmost, and many of them are bro- 1f'gCs2
ken in the operation. ^ tSwistf
1 he reader w ill remember that a two strand line was jn a tliieC
laid or closed merely by allowing it to twust itself up at tion oppo
the swivel of the loper; and that it was the elasticity s^te.ton|
arising from the twist of the yarn which produced this ^n^re»i
effect: and he would probably be surprised when we £eqUent-
Said, lystrongf
Rope Making.
'CCCY'LXV
Fi9.3. Si,,. 4. Fu/5
tf-MUAr/Z/c',,//, '
#
n 0 P [ 281 1 11 0 P
Kiijx* that, in laying a larger rope, the strands are twist-
nisking. e(j jn a direction opposite to that of the spinning.
Since the tendency to close into a rope is nothing but
the tendency of the strands to untwist, it would seem
natural to twist the strands as the yams were twisted
before. This would be true if the elasticity of the
fibres in a yarn produced the same tendency to untwist
in the strand that it does in the yarn. But this is not
the case. The contraction of one of the outer yarns
of a strand tends to pull the strand backward round
the axis of the strand : but the contraction of a fibre
of this yarn tends to turn the yarn round its own axis,
and not round the axis of the strand. It tends to un¬
twist the yarn, but not to untwist the strand. It tends
to untwist the strand only so far as it tends to contract
the yarn. Let us suppose the yarn to be spun up to
one-half the length of the fibres. The contracting
power of this yarn will be only one-half of the force
exerted by the fibres ; therefore, whatever is the force
necessary for closing the rope properly, the fibres of
the yarns must be exerting twice this force. Now let
the same yarn, spun up to one-half, be made up in a
strand, and let the strand be twisted in the opposite di¬
rection to the spinning till it has acquired the same
elasticity fit for laying. The yarns are untwisted. Sup¬
pose to three-fourths of the lengths of the fibres. They
are now exerting only four-thirds of the force necessary
for laying, that is, two-thirds of what they were obliged
to exert in the other case ; and thus we have stronger
yarns when the strands are equally strained. But they
require to be more strained than the other ; which, be¬
ing made of more twisted yarn, sooner acquire the ela¬
sticity fit for laying. But since the elasticity which fits
the strand for laying does not increase so fast as the
strain on the fibres of the yarn which produces it, it is
plain, that when each has acquired that elasticity which
isproper for laying, the strands made of the slack-twist¬
ed yarn are the strongest; and the yarns are also the
strongest; and being softer, the rope will close better.
Experience confirms all this ; and cordage, whose
strands are twisted in the opposite direction to the twist
of spinning, are found to be stronger than the other in
^ a proportion not less than that of seven to six.
Great cor- Such being the difficulty of making a large strand,
ilage made an^ its defects when made, we have fallen on a method
laying of making great cordage by laying it twice. A hawser-
: twKe. laid rope, slack spun, little hardened in the strands, and
slack laid, is made a strand of a large rope called a cable
or cablet. The advantages of this fabric are evident.
The strands are reduced to one-third or one-fourth of
the diameter which they would have in a hawser, of the
same size. Such strands cannot have their yarns lying
very obliquely, and the outer yarns cannot be much
more strained than the inner ones. There must there¬
fore be a much greater equality in the whole substance
of cable-laid cordage, and from this we should expect
Superior strength.
Accordingly, their superiority is great, not less than
m the proportion of IS to 9, which is not far from the
proportion of four to three. A cable is more than a
fourth part, but is not a third part, stronger than a haw¬
ser of the same size or wreight.
They are seldom made of more than three hawsers
ot three strands each, though they are sometimes made
of1 three four-stranded hawsers, or of four three-strand-
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
ed. The first of these two is preferred, because four ftopr-
small strands can be laid very close ; whereas it is dif- oiakin^.
ficult to lay well four hawsers, aheady become very '■'V""''
hard.
The superiority of a cable-laid cordage being attri¬
buted entirely to the greater perfection of the strands,
and this seeming to arbe entirely f. om their smallness,
it was natural to expect still better cordage by laying
cab’es as the strands of still larger pieces. It has been
tried, and with every requisite attention. But a!though
they have always equalled, they have not decidedly ex¬
celled, common cables of the same weight; and they
require a great deal more work. We shall not therefore
enter upon the manipulations of this fabric. 2^
There is only one point of the mechanical process of r^str^)U'
rope-making which wre have not considered minutely ; tot-V^LoV*
and it is an important one, viz. the distribution of the tening of
total shortening of the yarns between the hardening of the yarns
the strands and the laying the rope. This is a point between
about which the artists are by no means agreed. There the hanlen-
is certainly a position of the strands of a laid rope which
puts every part in equilibrio; and this is what an els- laying the
Stic, but perfectly soft rope (w ere such a thing possible), rope,
would assume. But this cannot be discovered by any
experiments made on large or even on fi .m cos dage; and
it may not be thought sufficiently clear that the pro¬
portion which would be discovered by the careful fabri¬
cation of a very small and soft line is the same that will
suit a cordage of any diameter. We must proceed much
on conjecture; and we cannot say that the arguments
used by the partisans of different proportions are very
convincing.
The general practice, we believe, is to divide the
whole of the intended shortening of the yarns, or the
working up, into three parts, and to employ two of these
in hardening the strands, and the remaining third in
closing the haw'ser.
Mr Du Hamel thinks, that this repartition is injudi- Opinion
cious, and that the yarns are too much strained, and and experi-
the strands rendered weak. He recommends to invert
this proportion, and to shorten one-third in the harden- u
ing of the strands, and two-thirds in laying the hawser.
But if the strain of the yarns only is considered, one
should think that the outside yarn of a strand will he
more strained in laying, in proportion to the yarn of
the same strand, that is, in the very axis of the rope.
We can only say, that if a very soft line is formed in
this way, it will not keep its twist. This shows that
the turns in laying -were more than what the elasticity
or hardening of the strands required. The experiments
made on soft lines alw'ays showed a tendency to take a
greater twist when the lines were made in the first man¬
ner, and a tendency to lose their twist whefi made in
Mr Du Hamel’s manner. We imagine that the true
proportion is between these two extremes, and that wfe
shall not err greatly if we have the total shortening be¬
tween the two parts of the process. If working up to
two-thirds be insisted upon, and if it he really too much,
Mr Du Hamel’s repartition may be better, because part
of this working will quickly gooff when the cordage is
used. But it is surely better to he right in the main
point, the total working up, and then to adjust the dis¬
tribution of it so that the finished cordage shall precise¬
ly keep the form we have given to it.
There must be the same uncertainty in thequsdmple
t N n distribution
E O P [ 282 ]
When a cable of equal threads
30*
Of die
strains
ma le use
of during
the opera¬
tion.
ftope- distribution of the working up a cable,
mating. ]i,as its yarns shortened to two-thirds, we believe the or¬
dinary practice has been, 1st, To warp 180 fathoms;
gd, To harden up the strands 80 fathoms; 3d, To lay
or close up 13 fathoms; 4th, To work up the hawsers
nine fathoms; 5th, To close up eight fathoms. This
leaves a cable of 120. Since Mr Du Hamel’s experi¬
ments have had an influence at Rochefort, the practice
has been to warp 100, to harden up 38, to lay up 12,
to work up the hawsers !0, and then to close up six;
and when the cable is finished, to shorten it two fathoms
more, which our workmen call throwing the turn well
up. This leaves a cable of 122 fathoms.
As there seems little doubt of the superiority of cor¬
dage shortened one-fourth over cordage shortened ore-
third, the following distribution may be adopted : warp
190 fathoms harden up 12, layup II, work up the
hawsers 12, and close up 12 more, which will leave a
cable of 143.
There is another question about which the artists are
divided in their opinions, viz. the strains made use of
during the operation. This is produced by the weight
laid on the sledge. If this be too small the strands
will not be sufficiently tightened, and will run into
kinks. The sledge will come up by starts : and a small
inequality of twist in the strands will throw it askew.
The top will not run well without a considerable pres¬
sure to throw it from the closing point, and therefore
the cordage will neither close fairly nor firmly ; on the
other hand, it is evident, that the strain on the strands
is a complete expenditure of‘ so much of their force, and
it may be so great as to break them. These are the
extreme positions. And we think that it may be fair¬
ly deduced from our principles, that as great a strain
should be laid on the strands as will make good work,
that is, as will enable the rope to close nearly and com¬
pletely, but no more. But can any general rule be gi¬
ven for this purpose ?
The practice at Rochefort was to load the sledge
till its weight and load were double the weight of the
yarns when warped 180 fathoms. A six-inch hawser
will require about a ton. If ate suppose the friction
one-third of the weight; the strain on each strand will
be about two hundred and a quarter weight. Mr Du
Hamel thinks this too great a load, and proposes to put
only five-fourths or three-seconds of the weight of the
cordage; and still less if a shorter piece be warped, be¬
cause it does not require so much force to throw the
twist from the two cranks to the middle of the strand.
We shall only say, that stronger rope- are made by hea¬
vy loading the carriage, and working up moderately,
than by greater shortening, and a lighter load; but all
this is very vague.
The reader w ill naturally ask, after this account of
the manufacture, what is the general rule for computing
theTtreneth the stren&th of tordage ? It cannot be expected to be
of coulage. veiT Precise* But if ropes are made in a manner per¬
fectly similar, vre should expect the strength to be in
proportion to the area of their section; that is, to the
square of their diameters or circumferences, or to the
number of equal threads contained in them.
Nor does it deviate far from this rule ; yet Mr Du
Hamel shows, from a range of experiments made on
all cordage of 3i inch circumference and under, that
the strength increases a little faster than the number
31
General
rule for
11 0 P
Thus he found that ropes of
9 threads bore 1014 pounds, instead of 946
12 1564 1262
18 2148 1893
Ropf
niakir
\-^y
We cannot pretend to account for this. We must
also observe, that the strength of cordage is greatly im¬
proved by making them of yarn spun fine. This re¬
quires finely dressed hemp; and being more simple, the
fibres lie close, and do not form such oblique spirals.
But all hemp will not spin equally fine. Every stalk
seems to consist of a certain number of principal fibres,
Avhich split more easily into a second set, and these more
difficultly into a third set, and so on. The ultimate
fineness, therefore, which a reasonable degree of dres¬
sing can give to hemp, bears some proportion, not in¬
deed very precise, to the size of the stalk. The British
and Dutch use the best hemp, spin their yarn the finest,
and their cordage is considerably stronger than the
French, much of which is made of their own hemp, and
others o‘ a coarse and harsh quality.
The following rule for judging of the weight which
a rope will bear is not far from the truth. It supposes
them father too strong ; but it is so easily remembered
that it may be of use.
Multiply the circumference in inches by itself, and
take the fifth part of the product, it will express the
tons v hich the rope will carry. Thus, if the rope have
six inches circumference, 6 times 6 is 36, the fifth of
wh.ch is tons; apply this to the rope of 31, on
which Sir Charles Knowles made the experiments for¬
merly mentioned, 31x3} —10.25, j of which is 2.05
tons, or 4592 pounds. It broke wdth 4550.
Tins may suffice for an account of the mechanical oftar
part of the manufacture. Rut we have taken no notice and it
of the operation of tarring ; and our reason was, that fects 0
the metho s practised in different rope-works are so ex- streng
ceedingly different, that we could hardly enumerate
them, or even give a general account of them. It is
evidently proper to tar in the state of twine or yarn, this
being the only way that the hemp could be uniformly
penetrated. The yarn is made to wind off one reel,
and having passed through a vessel containing hot tar,
it is w ound up on another reel; and the superfluous tar
is taken off by passing through a hole surrounded with
spongy oakum: or it is tarred in skains or hauls, wkich
are drawn by a capstern through the tar-kettle, and
through a hole formed of two plates of metal, held to¬
gether by a lever loaded with a wTeight.
It is established beyond a doubt, that tarred cordage
when new is weaker than white, and that the difference
increases by keeping. The following experiments were
made by Mr Du Hamel at Rochefort on cordage of
three inches (French) in circumference, made of the
best Riga hemp.
August 8. 1741.
White. Tarred.
Broke with 4500 pounds. 3400 pounds.
4900 3300
4800 3250
April 25. 1743.
, 4600 3500
5i 00 3400
5000 3400
September
K O P [ 283 ] R 0 S
September 3. 1746.
SSOO 3000
4000 2700
4200 2800
A parcel of white and tarred cordage -was taken out
of a quantity which had been made February 12. 1746.
It was laid up in the magazines, and comparisons were
made from time to time as follows:
While bore. Tarred bore. Differ.
1746 April J 4. 2645 pounds. 2312 pounds 333
1747 May 18. 1762 2155 607
1747 Oct. 21.2710 2050 660
1748 June 19.2575 1752 823
1748 Oct. 2. 2425 1837 588
1749 Sep. 25.2917 1865 1052
Mr Du Hamel says, that it is decided by experience,
1. That white cordage in continual service is one-third
more durable than tarred, 2. That it retains its force
much longer while kept in store. 3. That it resists the
ordinary injuries of the weather one-fourth longer.
We know this one remarkable fact. In 1758 the
shrouds and stays of the Sheer hulk at Portsmouth dock¬
yard were overhawled, and when the worming and ser¬
vice were taken off, they were found to be of whiteeor-
dage. On examining the storekeepers books, they were
found to have been formerly the shrouds and rigging of
the Royal William, 110 guns, built in 1715, and rig¬
ged in 1716. She was thought top-heavy and unfit for
sea, and unrigged and her stores laid up. Some few
years afterwards, her shrouds and stays were fitted on
the Sheer hulk, where they remained in constant and
very hard service for about 30 years, while every tarred
rope about her had been repeatedly renewed. This in¬
formation we received from Mr Brown, boatswain of
the Royal William during the war in 1758, &c.
Why then do we tar cordage? We thus render it
more unpliant, weaker, and less durable. It is chiefly
(serviceable for cables and ground tackle, which must
be continually wetted and even soaked. The result ©f
careful observation is, 1. That white cordage, exposed
to be alternately very wet and dry, is weaker than tar¬
red cordage. 2. That cordage which is superficially
tarred is constantly stronger thanwbat istarred through¬
out, and it resists better the alternatives of wet and dry.
N. B. The shrouds of the sheer hulk were well tarred
and blacked, so that it was not known that they were
of white cordage.
Tar is a curious substance, miscible completely with
water. Attempts were made to anoint cordage with
oils and fats which do not mix with water. This was
expected to defend them from its pernicious effects. But
it was distinctly found that these matters made the fibres
of hemp glide so easily on.each other, that it was hardly
possilile to twist them permanently. Before they grasp¬
ed each other so hard that they could not be drawn, they
were strained almost to breaking.
Attempts have been made to increase the strength of
cordage b> tanning. But though it remains a constant
practice in the manufacture of nets, it does not appear
that much addition, eiihe’ of strength or durability, can
be given to cordage by this means. The t< iat has been
made wkh great care, and by persons fully able to con¬
duct the process with propriety. But it is found that
the yarns take so long time in drying, and are so much
hurt by drying slowly, that the room required for a con¬
siderable rope-work woo'd be immense; arid the im¬
provement of the cordage is but trifling, and even equi¬
vocal. Indeed tanning is a chemical process, and its
effects depend entirely on the nature of the materials to
which the tan is applied. It unquestionably condemn %
and even strengthens, the fibre of leather : but for any
thing that we know d priori, it m :y destroy tire cohe¬
sion of hemp and flax; and experiment alone could de¬
cide the question. The result has been unfavourable ;
but it does not follow from this that a tan cannot be
found which shall produce on the texture of vegetables
effects similar to what oak-bark and other astringents
produce on the animal fibre or membrane. It is well
known that some dyes increase the strength of flax and
cotton, notwithstanding the corrosion which we know
to be produced by some of the ingredients. This is a
subject highly worth the attention of the chemist and
the patriot.
liopE-Danccr. See Dope-Dancer.
RoPE-Yarn, among sailors, is the yarn of any rope
untwisted, but commonly made up of junk; its use is
to make sinnet, matts, &c.
ROQUET. See Rocket.
RORIDULA, a genus of plants belonging to the
pentandria class. See Botany Index.
ROSA, the Rose ; a genus of plants belonging to
the icosandria class ; and in the natural method ranking
under the 35th order, Senticosce. See Botany Index.
The sorts of roses are very numerous; andthebotanists
find it very difficult to determine with accuracy which
are species and which are varieties, as well as which are
varieties of the respective species. On this account Lin¬
naeus, and some other eminent authors, are inclined to
think that there is only one real species of rose, which
is the rosa canina, or “ dog rose of the hedges/' &c. and
that all the other sorts are accidental varieties of it.
However, according to the present Linnasan arrange¬
ment, they stand divided into 14 supposed species, each
comprehending varieties, which in some sorts are but
few, in others numerous.
The supposed species and their varieties according to
the arrangement of modern botanists, are as follows:
1. The canina, canine rose, wild dog-rose of the
hedges, or hep-tree, grows five or six feet high, having
prickly stalks and branches, pinnated five or seven*
lobed leaves, with aculeated foot stalks, smooth pedun-
culi, oval smooth germina, and small single Rowers.
There are two varieties, red-flowered and white-flower¬
ed. They grow wild in hedges abundantly ail over
the kingdom; and are sometimes admitted into gar¬
dens, a few to increase the variety of the shrubbery col¬
lection.
2. The alba, or common white-rose, grows five or six
feet high, having a green stem and branches, armed with
prickles, hispidpedunculi, oval smooth germina and large
white flowers. The varieties are,— large double white
rose—dwarfsing]ewhiter.>se—maidens-blush white rose,
being large, produced in clusters, of a white and blush-
red colour.
3. The Gallica, or Gallican rose, &c. growls from
about three or four to eight or ten feet high, in differ¬
ent varieties, with pinnated, three, five, or seven-lobed
leaves, and large red and other coloured flowers in dif-
N n 2 ferent
EOS [ 284 ] EOS
Rferent sorts. This species is very extensive in supposed
varieties, bearing the bove specific distinction, several
of which have been formerly considered as distinct spe¬
cies, but are now ranged among the varieties of the Gal¬
ilean rose, consisting of the following noted varieties.
Common red officinal rose, grows erect, about three
or four feet high, having small branches, with but few
prickles, and ia ge spreading half-double deep-red
flowers.—Rosa mundi (rose of the world) or striped
red rose, is a variety of the common red rose, growing
hut three or four feet high, having large spreading semi-
double red flowers, beautifully striped with white—and
deep red.—York and Lancaster variegated rose, grows
five, six, or eight feet high, or n ore; bearing variega¬
ted red flowers, consisting of a mixture of red and
white; al-o frequently di>posed in elegant stripes, some¬
times in half of the Hover, and sometimes m some of
the petals.—Monthly rose, grows about four or five
feet high, with green very prickly shoo s; producing
mid de-sized, moderately-double delicate flowers, of
different colours in the varieties. The varieties are
common red-flowered monthly rose—bin h-flowered—
white flowe- ed—stript d-flowered. Ail of which blow
both ear y and late, and often produce flowers several
mrnths in the year, as May, June, and July; and fre¬
quently again in August'or September, and sometimes
in fine mild seasons, continues till November or De¬
cember : hence the name monthly rose.—Double virgin-
rose, gi owsfive or sixfeet high,having greenish branches
with scarce any spines; and with large double pale-
red and very frag rant flowers.—Red damask rose, grows
eight or ten feet high, having greenish branches, armed
with short aculea; and moderately-double, fine soft-red,
very fragrantflowers.— White damask rose, grows eight
or ten feet high, with greenish very prickly brandies,
and white-red flowers, becoming gradually of a whiter
colour.—Blush Belgic r< se, grows three or four feet
high, or more ; having greenish prickly branches, five
or seven lobed leaves, and numei ous, very double, blush-
red flowers, with short petals, evenly arranged. — Red
Belgic rose, having greenish and red shoots and leaves,
and fine double deep-red flowers —Velvet rose, grows
three or four feet high, armed with but few prickles ;
producing large velvet-red flowers, com pri^ing semi-dou¬
ble and double varieties,.all very beautiful roses. — Mar¬
bled rose, grows four or five feet high, having brownish
branches, with but few prickles; and large, double,
finely-marbled, red flowers.—Red and yellow Austrian
rose, g^-ows five or six feet high, having slender reddish
branches, armed with short brownish aculea; and with
flowers of a reddish copper colour on one side, the other
side yellow. This is a carious variety, and the flowers
assume a singularly agreeable appearance.—Yellow Au¬
strian rose, grows five or six feet high, having reddish
very prickly shoots; and rumerousbright-yellow flowers.
—Double yellow rose, grows six or seven feet high;
with brownish branches, armed with numerous largeand
small yellowish prickles; and large very double yellow
flowers.—Frankfurt rose, grows eight or ten feet high,
is a vigorous shooter, with brownish brandies thinly
armed with strong prickles; and produces largish
double purplish-red flowers, that blow irregularly, and
have but little fragrance.
4. The centFolia, or hundred-leaved red rose, &c.
grows from about three or four to six cr eight feet
high, in different sorts, all of them hispid and prickly ; Rosa,
pinnated three and five-lobed leaves; and large very
double red flowers, having very numerous petals, and
of different shades in the varieties. The varieties are,
-—common Dutch hundred-leaved rose, grows three or
four feet high, with erect greenish branches, but mo¬
derately armed with prickles; and large remarkably
double red flowers, with short regularly arranged petals.
—Blush hundred-leaved rose, grows like the other, with
large very double pale-red flowers. — Provence rose,
grows five or six feet, with greenish-brown prickly
branches, and very large double globular red flowers,
with large petals folding over one another, more or less
in the varieties.— I he varieties are, common red Pro¬
vence rose, and pale Provence rose; both of which ha¬
ving larger and somewhit looser petals than the fol¬
lowing sort.—Cabbage Provence rose ; having the pe«
tals closely folded over one another like cabbages.—
Dutch cabbage rose, very large, and cabbages tolerably.
— Childing Rrovence rose—Great royal rose, grows six
or eight feet high, producing remarkably large, some¬
what loo e, but very elegant flow'ers.—All these are
large double red flowers, somewhat globular at first
blowing, becoming gradually a little spreading at top,
and are all very ornamental fragrant roses — Moss Pro¬
vence rose, supposed a variety of the common rose;
grows erectly four or five feet high, having brownish
sta.ks and nranches, very closely armed with short pric¬
kles, and double crimson-red flowers; having the calyx
and upper part of the peduncle sui rounded with a rough
mossy-like substance, effecting a curious singularity.
Ihis is a fine delicate rose, of a high fragrance, which
together with its messy calyx, renders it of great esti¬
mation as a curiosity.
5. 1 he cinnamomea, or cinnamon rose, grows five or
six feet high, or more, with purplish branches thinlyacu-
leated ; pinnated five or seven-lobed leaves, having al¬
most inermous petioles, smooth pedunculi, and smooth
globular germina ; with small purplish-red cinnamon-
scented flowers early in May. There are varieties with
double flowers.
6. Ihe Alpina, or Alpine inermous rose, grows five
or six feet high, having smooth or unarmed reddish
branches, pinnated?even-lobedsmooth leaves, somewhat
hispid peduncuh, ov<J germina, and deep-red single
flowers; appearing in May. This species, as being free
from all kinds of armature common to the other sorts of
roses, is esteemed as a singularity ; and from this pro¬
perty is often called the virgin rose.
7. Ihe Caiohna, or Carolina and Virginia rose, &c.
grows six or eight feet hight, or more, having smooth
reddish branches, very thinly aculeated; pinnated seven-
lobed smooth leaves, with prickly fout-stalks; somewhat
hispid pedunculi, globose hispid germen, and single red
flowers in clusters, appearing mostly in August and
September. The varieties are, dwarf Pennsylvanian rose,
with single and double red flov\ er?—American pale-red
rose. This species and varieties grow naturally in dif¬
ferent parts in North America ; they effect a fine varie¬
ty in our gardens, and are in estimation for their late-
flowering property, as they often continue in blow from
August until October; and the flowers are sucieeJed
by numerous red berry Tike heps m autumn, causing a
variety all winter.
8. liie villosa, or villose apple-bearing rose, grows
six
EOS [ 285 ] EOS
ia. six or eight feet high, having strong erect brownish
* -O smooth branches; aculeate;! spar^ediy pinnated seven-
lobed villo-e or hairy leave's downy underneath, with
prickly Coot-stalks, hispid peduncles, a globular prickly
germen ; and large single red flowers, succeeded by
lar<re round prickly heps, as big as little apoles. This
species merits admittance into every collection as a cu¬
riosity for the singularity of its fruit, both for variety
and use ; for it having a thick pulp of an agreeable acid
re ish, is o ten made into a tolerable good sweetmeat.
Q. The pimpineTfoli i, or burnet-leaved rose, grows
about a yard high, acu’eated spar>ed!y ; small neatly
pinnated seveu-lobed leaves, having obtuse folioles and
rough petioles, smooth peduncles, a globular smooth
germen, and small single flower-’. Theie are v-.ne'ies
with red flowers—and with white flowers. They grow
wild in England, &c. and are cultivated in shrubberies
for variety.
10. The spinosisdma, or most spinous, dwarf burnet-
leaved rose, commonly called Scotch rose, grows but two
or three feet high, very closely armed with spines;
small neatly pinnated seven-lobed leaves, with prickly
foot-stalks, p ickly pedunculi, oval smooth germen, and
numerous small singleflowers, succeeded byrounddark-
purple heps. The varieties are, common white-flowered
—-red-flowered—striped-flowered marble-flowered.
They grow naturally in England, Scotland, &c. 1 he
first variety rises near a yard high, the ethers but one
or two feet, all of which are single-flowered; but the
flowers being numerous all ovtr the branches, make »
pretty appearance in the collection.
11. The eglanteria, eglantine rose, or sweet-briar,
grows five or six feet high, having green branches,
armed with strong spines sparsedly; pinnated seven-
lobed odoriferous leaves, with acute tolioles and rough
foot-stalks, smooth pedunculi, globular ?mooth germina,
and small pale-red flowers. The varieties are, common
single-flowered—semi-double flowered—double-floweed
—blush double-flowered—yellow-flowered. This spe¬
cies grows naturally in some parts of England, and in
Switzerland. It claims cu ture in every garden for the
odoriferous property of its leave'; and should be plant¬
ed in the borders, and othe<- compartments contiguous
to walks, or near the habitation, where the plants will
impart their refre hing fragrance very protusely all
around ; and the young branches are excellent for im¬
proving the odour of nosegays and bow-pots.
12. The mos hata, or musk-rose, supposed to be a
variety only of the ever-green mu^k ro-e, hath weak
smooth green stalks and irranches, rising by support
from six to eight or ten feet high or more, thinly arm¬
ed with strong spines; pinnated seven-lobed smooth
leaves, wi h prickly foot-stalks; hispid peduncles ; oval
hispid germen ; ami all the branches terminated by
large umbellate clusters of pure-white musk-scented
flowers in August, &c.
13. The sempervirens, or ever-green musk-rose, hath
a somewhat trailing stalk and branches, rising by sup¬
port five or six feet high or more, having a smooth ba k
armedwith prickles; pinnatedfive-lobed smooth shining
evergree -leaves, with prickly petioles, hispid pedunculi,
oval hispid germen; and all the branches terminated by
clusters of pm e-white flowers of a musky fragrance; ap¬
pearing the end of July, and in August. The semper-
virent property of this elegant species renders it a curi- Rosa,
osity among the rosy tribe; it also makes a fine appear-
anee as a flowering shrub. There is one variety, the
deciduousmusk-roseabove mentioned. This species and
variety flowers m August, and is remarkable for produ¬
cing them numerously in cluste. s, continuing in succes¬
sion till October or November.
The above 13 species of rosa, and ibeir respective va-
rie'ies, are of the shrub-kind ; all deciduous, (xcept the
last sort, and of hardy grow h, succeeding in any com¬
mon sod and situation, amt flowering annually in great
abundance from May tdl () tober, in different so ts ;
though the general flowering season for the principal
part of them is June and July: but in a full collection
of the different species, the blow is continued in con¬
stant succession several months, even sometimes from
May till near Christmas; producing thsir flowers uni¬
versally on the same year’s shoots, rising from those the
ye r uefore, generally on long pedurculi, each termi¬
nated by one or more roses, which in their characteri¬
stic state consist each of five large petals and many sta¬
mina; but in the doubles, the petals are very numerous;
and m some sorts, the flowers are succeeded by fru t ri¬
pening to a red colour in autumn and wii ter, tiom the
seed of which the plants n ay be raided ; but the most
certain and eligible mode of j repa ating most of the
sorts is by suckers end layers; and by which meth ds
they may be increased very expeditiously in great abun¬
dance.
The white and red roses are used in medicine. The
former distilled with water yiehls a small portion of a
butyraceous oil whose flavour exactly resembles that of
the roses themselves. This od a- d the disti'led v aver
are very useful and agreeable cordials. The-e r. ses al¬
so, besides tlie cordial and aromatic virtues which reside
in their volatile parts, 1 ave a mild pmgative one, which
remains entire in the decoction le:t after dis?Matson.
The red ro'e, on the contrary, has an astringent and
gratefu'ly corroborating virtue.
Rosa, Salvator, an admirable painter, born at Naples
in i6l4. He was first instructed by France-co Franca-
zano, a kinsman : but the death of his father reduced
him to sell drawings sketched upon paper for any thing
he could get; one of which happening to fall into the
hands of Lanfranc, he took him under his protection,
and enabled him to enter the school of Spagnoktto,
and to be taught moieover by Daniel Falcone, a di¬
stinguished painter of battles at Nap;es. Salvator had
a ferule imagination. He studied nature with atten¬
tion and judgment; and always represented her to the
greatest advantage : for every tree, rock, cloud, or si¬
tuation, that enters into his composition, shows en e'e- •
vation of thought that extorts admiration. He was
equally eminent for painting battles, animals, sea or
land storms; and he executed these different subjects
in such taste as renders his works readi'y distinguish¬
able from all others. His pieces are exceedingly scarce
and valuable; one of the most capital is that repre¬
senting Saul and the whch of Emior, which w as pre¬
served at Versailles. He died in 1673; and ss his
paintings are in few hands, he is more generally known
by his prints, of which he etched a great number. He
painted landscapes more than history ; but bis prints
are chiefly historical. The capital landscape of this
master j
11 o s
it ossa
II
Kosamoncl.
It 0 S [ £86 ]
msster at Chiswick is a noble picture. However, he is
said to have been ignorant of the management of light,
and to have sometimesshadedfacesin a disagreeableman-
ner. He was however a man of undoubted genius; of
which he has given frequent specimens in his works. A
roving disposition, to which he is said to have given full
scope, seems to have added a wildness to all his thoughts.
We are told that he spent the early part of his life in
a troop of banditti; and that the rocky desolate scenes
in which he was accustomed to take refuge, furnished
him with those romantic ideas in landscape, of which he
is so exceedingly fond, and in the description of which
he so greatly excels. His robbers, as his detached figures
are commonly called, are supposed also to have been
taken from the life.
Salvator Rosa is sufficiently known as a painter ; but
he is little known as a musician. Among the musical
manuscripts purchased at Rome by Dr Burney, rvas a
music book of Salvator, in which are many airs and can¬
tatas of different masters, and eight entire cantatas,
written, set, and transcribed by this celebrated painter
himself. From the specimen of his talents for music
here given, we make no scruple of declaring, that he
had a truer genius for this science, in point of melody,
than any of his predecessors or contemporaries: there is
also a strength of expression in his verses, which sets him
far above the middle rank as a poet. Like most other
arti&fs of real original merit, he complains of the ill
usage of the world, and the difficulty he finds in procu¬
ring a bare subsistence.
ROSACEA. See Gvtta Rosacea.
ROSACEOUS, among botanists, an appellation gi¬
ven to such flowers as are composed of several petals or
leaves disposed in a sort of circular form, like those of a
rose.
ROSAMOND, daughter of Walter Lord Clifford,
-was a young lady of exquisite beauty, fine accomplish¬
ments, and blessed with a most engaging wit and sweet¬
ness of temper. She had been educated, according to
the custom of the times, in the nunnery of Godstow ;
and the popular story of her is as follows : Henry 1L
sawr her, loved her, declared his passion, and triumphed
over her honour. 1 o avoid the jealousy of his queen
Elinor, he kept her in a wonderful labyrinth at Wood-
stock, and by his connexion with her had William
Longsword earl of Salisbury, and Geoffrey bishop of
Lincoln. On Henry’s absence in France, however,
on account of a rebellion in that country, the queen
found means to discover her, and, though struck with
her beauty, she recalled sufficient resentment to poison
her. t he queen, it is said, discovered her apartment
by a thread ol silk; but how she came by it is different-
jy ielated. 1 ois popular story is not however support¬
ed by history; several v/riters mention no more of her,
than that the queen so vented her spleen on Rosamond
as that the lady lived not long after. Other writers
assert that she died a natural death; and the story of her
being poisoned is thought to have arisen from the figure
of a cup on her tomb. She was buried in the church
of Godstow, opposite to the high altar, where her body
lemamed till it -was ordered to be removed with every
mark of disgrace by Hugh bishop/ of Lincoln in 1191.
She vyas, however, by many considered as a saint after
her death, as appears from an inscription on a cross
which Leland says stood near Godstow :
Qui meat hac oret, signum salads adorct,
Utqtie sibi detur veniam. Rosamiaida prccetur.
And also by the following story: Rosamond during
her residence at her bower, made several visits to God¬
stow ; where being frequently reproved for the life she
led, and threatened with the consequences in a future
state, she always answered, that she knew she should
be saved ; and as a token to them, showed a tree which
she said would be tui'ned into a stone when she w as with
the saints in heaven. Soon after her death this won¬
derful metamorphosis happened, and the stone was
shown to strangers at Godstow till the time of the disso¬
lution.
ROSARY, among the Roman Catholics. See Chap¬
let.
ROSBACH, a towm of Germany, in Saxony, fa¬
mous for a victory obtained here by the king of Prussia
over the French, on November 5 1757, in which
10,000 of the French were killed or taken prisoners,
with the loss of no more than 500 Prussians. See
Prussia, N°. 30.
Grose's At
liquifies oj)
■England
and Hale.
vol. iv.
p. 176, &,
ROSCHILD, a town of Denmark, in the isle of
Zealand, with a bishop’s see and a small university. It
is famous for a treaty concluded here in 1658; and in
the great church there are several tombs of the kings of
Denmark. It is seated at the bottom of a small bay, in
E. Long 12. 6. N. Lat. 55. 40. See Roskild.
ROSCOMMON, a county of Ireland, in the pro¬
vince of Connaught, bounded on the west by the river
Sue, on the east by the Shannon, on the north by the
Curlew mountains, on the south and south-east by the
King’s county, and part of Galway. Its length is 50
miles, its breadth 28. The air of the county, both on
the plains and mountains, is healthy; the soil yields
plenty of grass with some corn, and feeds numerous
herds of cattle. The Curlew mountains on the north
are very high and steep; and, till a road with great la¬
bour and difficulty was cut through them, were impas¬
sable. This county contains 59 parishes, 86,000 inha¬
bitants, and sends two members to the imperial parlia¬
ment. See Roscommon Supplement.
Roscommon, which gives the title of earl to the fami¬
ly of Dillon, and name to the county, though not large,
is both a parliamentary borough, and the county town.
Roscommon, Wentworth Dillon, Earl of, a celebra¬
ted poet of the 17th century, was the son of James Dil¬
lon earl of Roscommon; and was born in Ireland, un¬
der the administration of the first earl of Strafford, who
was his uncle, and from whom he received the name of
Wentworth at his baptism. He passed his infancy in
Ireland; after which the earl of Strafford sent for him
into England, and placed him at his own seat in York¬
shire, under the tuition of Dr Hall, afterwards bishop
of Norwich, who instructed him in Latin, without
teaching him the common rules of grammar, which he
could never retain in his memory, and yet he learned to
write in that language with classical elegance and pro¬
priety. On the earl of Strafford’s being impeached, he
went to complete his education at Caen in Normandy ;
and after some j'ears travelled to Rome, where he be¬
came acquainted with the most valuable remains of an¬
tiquity, and in particular was well skilled in medals,
and learned to speak Italian with such grace and fluen-
cy, that he was frequently taken for a native. He re¬
turned
, 1
ft o S [ 287 ] EOS
turned to England soon after the Restoration, and was
made captain of the band of pensioners ; but a dispute
with the lord privy-seal about a part of his est te, obli¬
ged him to resign his post, and revisit his native coun¬
try, where the duke of Ormond appo nted him captain
of the guards. He was unhappily very fond of gaining;
and as he was returning to his lodgings from a gaming¬
table in Dublin, he was attacked in the dark by three
ruffians, who were employed to assassinate him. The
earl defended himself with such resolution, that he had
dispatched one of the aggressors, when agentleman pas¬
sing that way took his part, and disarmed another, on
which the third sought his safety in flight. This gene¬
rous assistant was a disbanded officer of good family and
fair reputation, but reduced to poverty ; and his lord-
ship rewarded his bravery by resigning to him his post
of captain of the guards. He at length returned to Lon¬
don ; when he was made master of the horse to the
duchess of York, and married the lady Frances, e'dest
daughter of Richard earl of Burlington, who had been
the wife of Colonel Courtney. He here distinguished
himself by his writings; and in imitation of those learn¬
ed and polite assemblies with which he had been ac¬
quainted abroad, began to form a society for refining
and fixing the standard of the English language, in
which his great friend Mr Dryden was a principal as¬
sistant. This scheme was entirely defeated by the reli¬
gious commotions which ensued on King James’s acces¬
sion to the throne. In Ui8d he was seized with the
gout; and being too impatient of pain, lie permitted a
bold French empiric to apply a repelling medicine, in
order to give him present relief; this drove the dis¬
temper into his bowels, and in a short time put a period
to his life, in January 1 fi’84. He was buried with great
pomp in Westminster-abbey.
His poems, which are not numerous are in the body
of English poetry collected by Dr Johnson. His “ Es¬
say on Translated Verse,” and his translation of “ Ho¬
race’s Art of Poetry,” have great merit. Waller ad¬
dressed a poem to his lordship upon the latter, when he
was 75 years of age. “ In the writings of this noble¬
man we view (says Fenton) the image of a mind natu¬
rally serious and solid ; richly furnished and adorned
Mdth all the ornaments of art and science: and those or¬
naments unaffectedly disposed in the most regular and
elegant order. His imagination might probably have
been more fruitful and sprightly, if his judgment had
been less severe ; but that severity (delivered in a mas¬
culine, clear, succinct style) contributed to m -ke him
so eminent in the didactical manner, that no man, with
justice can affirm he was equalled by any of our na¬
tion, without confessing at the same time that he is in¬
ferior to none. In some other kinds of writing his ge¬
nius seems to have wanted fireto attain the point of per¬
fection ; but who can attain it ? He was a man of an
amiable disposition, as well as a good poet; as Pope, in
his Essay on Criticism/ hath testified in the following
lines:
 Roscommon not more learn’d than good.
With manners generous as Ins noble blood;
To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known.
And every author’s merit but his own.”
We must allow of Roscommon what Fenton has not
mentioned so distinctly as he ought, and, what is yet
very muen to his honour, that he is perhaps the only Roseau-
correct writer in verse before Addison; and that, if mon*
there are not so many or so great be mties in his cornpo- Rose’
sitions as in those of some contemporaries, there are at —
least fewer faults. Nor is this his highest praise; for
Pope has celebrated him as the only moral writer of
King Charles’s reign :
Unhappy Dryden ! in all Charles’s days,
Roscommon only boasts unspotted lays.
Of Roscommon’s works, the judgment of the public
seems to be right. He is elegant; but not great; he
never labours after exquisite beauties, and he seldom
falls into gross faults. His versification is smooth, but
rarely vigorous, and his rhymes are remarkably exact.
He improved taste, if he did not enlarge knowledge]
and may be numbered amongthe benefactorsto English
literature.
1 ROSE, in Botany. See Rosa.
Essence of Roses. See Roses, Otter of.
Rose of Jericho, so called because it grows in the
plain of Jericho, though it did not originally grow there.
It has perhaps been so named by travellers who did not
know that it was brought from Arabia Petrgea. Rose
bushes are frequently found in the fields about Jericho ;
but they are of a species much inferior to those so much
extolled in Scripture, the flowers of which some natural¬
ists pretend to have in their cabinets.
“ The rose shrub of Jericho (says Mariti) is a small
plant, w th a bushy root, about an inch and a hall in
length. It has a number of stems wh ch diverge from
the earth : they are covered with few leaves ; but it is
loaded with flowers, which appear red when in bud,
turn paler as they expand, and at length become w’hite
entirely. These flowers appear to me to have a great
resemblance to those of the elder-tree; with this differ¬
ence, that they are entirely destitute of smell. The
stems never rise more than four or five inches from the
ground. This shrub she Is its leaves and its flowers as it
withers. Its branches then bend in the middle, and,
becoming entwined with each other to the top form a
kind of globe. This happens during the great heats ;
but during moist and rainy weatlier they again open and
expand.
“ in this country cf ignorance and superstition, peo¬
ple do not judge with a philosophical eye of the alter¬
nate shutting and opening of this plant: it appears to
them to be a periodical miracle, which heaven operates
in order to make known the events of this world.
The inhabitants of the neighbouring cantons come and
examine these shrubs when they are about to under¬
take a journey, to form an alliance, to conclude any
affair of importance, or on the birth of a son If the
stems of the plants are open, they do not doubt of suc¬
cess ; but they account it a bad omen to see them shut,
and therefore renounce their project if it be not too
late.
“ This plant is neither subject to rot nor to wither.
It will bear to be transplanted: and thrives without de¬
generating in any kind of soil whatever.”
Roses, Otl r or essential oil ot, is obtained from
roses by simple distillation, and may be made in the fol¬
lowing manner : A quantity of fresh roses, tor example
40 pounds, are put in a st»H with tio pounds of water,
the roses being left as they are with their calyxes, but
with
liose.
11 O S [ 288 ] It 0 S
with the stems cut close. The mass is then well mixed
together with the hands, ami a gentle fire is made under
the still; when the water begins to grow hot, and fumes
to rise, the cap of the still is put on, and the pipe fixed;
the chinks are then well luted with paste, and cold wa¬
ter put on the refrigeratory at top : the receiver is also
adapted at the end of the pipe ; and the fire is continued
under the still, neither too violent nor too w'pak. M hen
the impregnated water begins to come over, and the
still is very hot, the fire is lessened by gentle degrees,
and the distillation continued till SO pounds of water are
come over, which is generally done in about four or
five hours; this rose-water is to be poured again on a
fresh quantity (40 pounds) of roses, and from 15 to 20
pounds of water are to be drawn by distillation, follow¬
ing the same process as before. The rose-water thus
made and cohobated will be found, if the roses were
good and fresh, and the distillation carefully performed,
highly scented with the roses. It is then poured into
pans either of earthen ware or of tinned metal, and left
exposed to the fresh air for the night. The otter or es¬
sence wrill be found in the morning congealed, and
Swimming on the top of the water; this is to be care¬
fully separated and collected either with a thin shell or
a skimmer, and poured into a vial. When a certain
quantity has thus been obtained, the water and feces
must be separated from the clear essence, which, with
respect to the first, will not be difficult to do, as the es¬
sence congeals with a slight cold, and the water may
then he made to run off. If, after that, the essence is
kept fluid by heat, the feces will subside, and may be
separated; but if the operation has been neatly perform¬
ed, these will be little or none. The feces are as highly
perfumed as the essence, and must be kept, after as
much of the essence has been skimmed from the rose¬
water as could be. The remaining water should be used
for fresh distillations, instead of common water, at least
as far as it will go.
The above is the whole process, as given in the Asia-
* Vol. 1. tic Researches by Lieutenant-colonel Polier*, of making
332. genuine otter of roses. Rut attempts (he says) are of¬
ten made to augment the quantity, though at the ex¬
pence of the quality. Thus the raspings of sandal¬
wood, which contain a deal of essential oil, are used;
butthe imposition is easilydiscovered, both by the smell,
and because the essential oil of sandal-wood will not
congeal in common c< Id In other places they adul¬
terate the otter by di tilling with the roses a sweet-
scented grass, which colours it of a high clear green.
This di es not congeal in a slight cold. There are nu¬
merous other modes, far more palpable, of adulteration.
The quantity of essential oil to be obtained from roses
is very precarious, depending on the skill of the distil¬
ler, on the quality of the roses, and the favourableness
of the season. The colour of the otter is no criterion
of its goodness, quality, or country. The calyxes by
no means diminish the quality of otter, nor do they im¬
part any green colour to it. They indeed augment the
quantity, but the trouble necessary to strip them is
such as to prevent their being often used.
The followirn/ is a simpler and less expensive process
for preparing this delicate and highly valued perfume ;
but whether it be equally productive, we know not.
A large earthen or stone jar, or a large clean wooden
cask is filled with the leaves of the flowers of roses, well
picked and freed from the seeds and stalks; and as much f!,
spring water as will cover them beina; p ured into the R,> «■
vessel, it is set in the sun in the morning at sunrise and 'w ^
allowed to stand till the evening, when it is removed
into the house for the night. In the same way it is to
be exposed for six or seven days successively. At the
end of the third or fourth day a number of particles of
a fine yellow oily matter is seen floating on the surface.
These particles in the course of two or three days more
collect into a scum, which is the otter of roses. This is
taken up by means of cotton tied to the end of a piece
of stick, and squeezed with the finger and thumb into a
small phial, which is immediately well stopped; and
this is repeated for some successive evenings, or while
any of this fine essential oil rises to the surface of the
water.
It is said that a few drops of this essential oil have at
different times been collected in the city of London by
distillation, in the same manner as those essential oils
which are obtained from other plants.
RosE-Noble, an ancient English gold coin, first struck
in the reign of Edward III. It was formerly current
at fis. 8d. and so called because stamped with a rose.
See Money.
Rose-Wood. See Aspalathus, Botany Index.
ROSETTO, or Rosetta, a town of Africa, in E-
gypt, is pleasantly situated on the west side of that
branch of the Nile called by the ancients Bolbilinum,
affirmed by Herodotus to have been formed by art;
the town and castle being on the right hand as you
enter that river. Any one that sees the hills about
Rosetto would judge that they had been the ancient
barriers of the sea, and conclude that the sea has not
lost more ground than the space between the hills and
the water. '
Rosetto is esteemed one of the pleasantest places
in Egypt; it is about two miles long, and consists
only of two or three streets. The country about it is
most delightful and fertile, as is the whole Delta on
the other side of the Nile, exhibiting the most plea¬
sant prospect of gardens, orchards, and corn-fields, ex¬
cellently cultivated. The castle stands about two
miles m.rth of the town, on the west side of the river.
It is a square building, with round towers at the four
corners, mounted with some pieces of brass cannon.
The walls are of brick, cased with stone, supposed to
have been built in the time of the holy war, though
since repaired by Cheyk Begh. At a little distance
lower, on the other side of the river, is a platform,
mounted with some guns, and to the east of it are the
salt lakes, from which great quantities of that commo¬
dity are gathered. At some farther distance, sailing up
the river, we see a high mountain, on which stands an
old building that serves for a watch-tower. From this
eminence is discovered a large and deep gulf, in form
of a crescent, which appears to have been the work
of art, though it be now filled up, and discovers no¬
thing but its ancient bed. Rosetto is a considerable
place for commerce, and hath some good manufactures
in the linen and cotton way ; but its chief business is
the carriage of goods to Cairo, all the European
merchandise being brought thither from Alexandria by
sea, and carried in other boats to that capita]; as those
that are brought down from it on the Nile are there
shipped off for Alexandria; on which account the Eu¬
ropeans
R O S [
setw, rbpearis have here their vice-consuls and factors to
sicru- transact their business; and the government maintains
ans* a beigh, a customhousej and a garrison, to keep all sale
and quiet.
In the country to the north of Ilossetto are delight¬
ful gardens, full of orange, lemon and citron trees, and
almost all sorts of fruits, with a variety of groves of
palm-trees ; and when the fields are green with rice, it
adds greatly to the beauty of the country. It is about
25 miles north-east of Alexandria, and 100 north-west
of Cairo. E. Long. 30. 45. N. Lat. 31. SO.
ROSICRUCIANS, a name assumed by a sect or
cabal of hermetical philosophers ; who arose, as it has
been said, or at least became first taken ru-tice o£ in
Germany, in the beginning of the fourteenth century.
They bound themselves together by a solemn secret,
which they all swore inviolably topreserve ; and obliged
themselves, at their admission into the order, to a strict
observance of certain established rules. They pretend¬
ed to know all sciences, and chiefly medicine ; whereof
they published themselves the restorers. They pretend¬
ed to be masters of abundance of important secrets, and,
among others, thatol the philosopher’s stone ; ail which
they affirmed to have received l>y tradition trom the an¬
cient Egyptian®, Chaldeans, the Magi and Oymnoso-
phists. They havebeen distinguished by several names,
accommodated to the several branches of their doctrine.
Because they pretend to protract the period of human
life, by means of certain nostrums, and even to restore
youth, they were called Imrnortales ; as they pretend¬
ed to know all things, they have been called Illuminati;
and because they have made no appearance for several
years, unless theses t of Illuminated which lately started
up on the continent derives its origin from them, they
have been calied the Invisible brothers. Their society is
frequently signed by the letters F. R. C. which some
among them interpret Jralres ruris cocti; it being pre-
tended, that the matter of the philosophers stone is
dew concocted, exalted, &c. Some, who are no friends
to free-masonry, make the present flourikhingsociety of
free-masons a branch of Hosicrucians; or rather the Ro-
sicrucians themselves, under a new name or relation,
viz. as retainers to building. And it is certain, there
are some free-masons who have all the characters of
Rosicrucians; but how the aera and original of mason¬
ry (see Masonry), and that of Rosicrucianism, here
fixed from Naudaeus, who has written expressly on the
•ubject, consist, we leave others to judge.
Notwithstanding the pretended antiquity of the Rod-
crucians, it is probable that the alchemists, Paracelsists,
or fire-philosophers, who spread themselves through al¬
most all Europe about the close of the sixteenth cen¬
tury, assumed about this period the obscure and ambi¬
guous title of Rosicrucian brethren, winch commanded
at first some degree of respect, as it seemed to be bor¬
rowed from the arms of Luther, which were a cross
placed upon a rose. But the denomination evidently
appears to be derived from the science of chemistry. It
is not compounded, says Mosheim, as many imagine, of
the two words rosa and crux, which signifies rose and
cross, but of the latter of these words, and the Latin
ros, which signifies dew. Of all natural bodies, dew
was deemed the most powerful dissolvent of gold ; and
the cross, in the chemical language, is equivalent to
light, because the figure of a cross -f exhibit*, at the
Vot. XVIII. Part I.
289 ] II 0 S
same time, the three letters of which the word lujr, or Itosimr-
light is compounded. Now lux is called, by this sect, c,a"9-
the seed or menstruum of the red dragon, or, in other R0Skild,
word®, that gross and corporeal light which when pro- ^. -
perly digested and modified, produces gold. Lienee it
follows, if this etymology be admitted, that a Rosicru¬
cian philosopher is one who, by the intervention and as¬
sistance of the dew, seeks for light, or in other words,
the substance called the philosopher’s stone. The true
meaning and energy of this denomination did not escape
ihe penetration and sagacity of Gassendi, ss appears by
his Exaincn Philosophic^ Flvddance, sect. 15. tom. iii. p.
26l. And it was more fully explained by Renaudot,
in his Coriferences Publiques, tom. iv. p. 87-
At the head of these fanatics were Robert Fludd, an
English physician, Jacob Behmen, and Michael Mayer ;
but if rumour may be credited, the present Illuminated
have a head of higher rank. The common principles,
which serve as a kind of centre of union to the Rosi¬
crucian society, are the following: They all maintain,
that the dissolution of bodies, by the power of fire, is
the only way by which men can arrive at true wisdom,
and come to discern the first principles of things.
They all acknowledge a certain analogy and harmony
between the powers of nature and the doctrines of re-
ligion ; and believe that the Deity governs the king¬
dom of grace by the same laws with which he rules
the kingdom of nature ; and hence they are led to use
chemical denominations to express the truths of reli¬
gion. They all hold, that there is a sort of divine en-
ergy, or soul, diffused through the frame of the uni¬
verse, which some call the archeus, others the universal
spirit, and which others mention under different appel¬
lations. They all talk in the most superstitious man¬
ner of what they call the signatures of things, of the pow¬
er of the stars over all corporeal beings, and their par¬
ticular influence upon the human race, of the efficacy of
magic, and the various ranks and orders of daemons.—
The'C daemons they divide into two orders, sylphs and
gnomes; which supplied the beautiful machinery of
Pope’s Rape of the Lock. In fine, the Rosicrucians and
all their fanatical descendants agree in throwing out the
most crude incomprehensible notions and ideas, in the
most obscure, quaint, and unusual expressions.—Mosh.
Eccl. Hist. vol. iv. p. 266, &c. English edition, 8vo.
See Bemmen and Theosophists.
ROSIER. See Pilatre.
ROSIERS-aux-Salines, a town of France, in the
department of Meurthe, famous for i's salt-works. The
works that King Stanislaus made here are much ad¬
mired. It is seated on the river Meurthe, in E. Long.
6. 27. N. Lat. 48. 35.
ROSKILD, formerly the royal residence and me¬
tropolis of Denmark, stands at a small distance from
the bay of Isefiord, not far from Copenhagen. In its
flourishing state it was of great txtent, and comprised
within its walls 27 churches, and as many convents.—
Represent circumferenceisscarcely half an English mile,
and it contains only about lb'26 souls. The houses
are of brick, and of a neat appearance The only re¬
mains of its original magnificence are the ruins of a pa¬
lace and of the cathedral, a brick building with two
spires, in which the kings of Denmark are interred.
Little of the original building now remains. Accord¬
ing to Holberg, it was constructed of wood, and af-
f Go ter wards
nos r 290 ] no s
BoskiU terwards built with stone, in the reign of Canute.-—
II. From an inscription in the choir, it appears to have
been founded by Harold VI. who is styled king of
Denmark, England, and Norway. Some verses, in
barbarous I.atin, obscurely allude to the principal in¬
cidents of his life; adding, that he built this church,
and died in 980.—See Coxe’s Travels into Polland,
Itussia, Sweden, and Denmark, vol. ii. p. 525.
ROSLEY-hill, a vi lage in Cumberland, with a
fair on Whit Monday, and every fortnight after till
Sep. 29. for horses, horned cattle, and linen cloth.
ROSLIN, or Roskelyn, a place in the county of
Mid Lothian in Scotland, remarkable for an ancient
chapel and castle. The chapel was founded in 1446,
by St Clare, prince of Orkney, for a provost, six pre¬
bendaries, and two singing boys. The outside is orna¬
mented with a multitude of pinnacles, and variety of
ludicrous sculpture. The inside is 69 feet long, the
breadth 34, supported by two rows of clustered pil¬
lars, between seven and eight feet high, with an aisle
on each side. The arches are obtusely Gothic. These
arches arecontinued across the side-aisles,but the centre
©f the church is one continued arch, elegantly divided
into compartments, and finely sculptured. The capitals
of the pillars are enriched with foliage, and a variety
of figures : and amidsta heavenly concert appears a che¬
rubim blowing the ancient Highland bagpipes. The
castle is seated on a peninsulated rock, in a deep glen
far beneath, and accessible by a bridge of great height.
This had been the seat of the great family of Sinclair.
Of this house was Oliver, favourite of James V. and
the innocent cause of the loss of the battle of Solway
Moss, by reason of the envy of the nobility on account
of his being preferred to the command.
Near this place the English received three defeats
in one day under John de Segrave the English regent
of Scotland in 1302. The Scots, under their generals
Curnmin and Fraser, had resolved to surprise Segrave ;
with which view they began their march on the night
of Saturday preceding the first Sunday of Lent, and
reached the English army by break of day. Segrave,
however, had time to have fallen back upon the other
division which lay behind him ; but either despising his
enemies too much, or thinking that he would be disho¬
noured by a retreat, he encountered the Scots; the
consequence of which was, that he himself was made
prisoner, and all his men either killed or taken, except
such as fled to the other division. As in this routed di¬
vision there had been no fewer than 300 knights, each
of whom brought at least five horsemen into the field,
great part of the Scots infantry quickly furnished them¬
selves with their horses ; but, as they were dividing the
spoils, another division of the English appeared, and
the Scots were obliged to fight them also. The English,
after a bloody engagement, were defeated a second time;
which was no sooner done, than the third and most
powerful division madeits appearance. The Scots were
now quite exhausted ; and, pleading the excessive la¬
bours they had already undergone, earnestly requested
their generals to allow them to retreat while it was yet
in their power. Their two generals, who perhaps knew
that to be impracticable, reminded them of the cause for
which they were fighting, the tyranny of the English,
Ac. and by these arguments prevailed upon them to
fight a third time; though, previous to the engage¬
ment, they were reduced to the cruel necessity of put- Roslin
ting all the common soldiers whom they had madepri- II
soners to the sword. The victory of the Scots at this
time was less complete than the other two had been ;
since they could not prevent the retreat of the English
to Edinburgh, nor Segrave from being rescued from
his captivity.
ROSMARINUS, Rossmxry, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the diandria class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 4 2d order, Verticillalce. See
Botany Index.
ROSS, in Herefordshire, in England, 119 miles
from London, is a fine old town, with a good trade>
on the river Wye. It was made a free borough by
Henry III. and contained 2261 inhabitants in 1811.
It is famous for cyder, and was noted in Camden's
time for a manufacture of iron-wares. There are in
it two charity-schools, which lately have been enrich¬
ed by a legacy of 2001. per annum from Mr Scott, in
Dec. 1786, a second Man of Ross. And its market
and fairs are well stored with cattle and other provisions.
At the west end of it there is a fine broad causeway,
constructed by Mr John Kyrle, the celebrated Man of
Ross, who also raised the spire upward of 100 feet,
and inclosed a piece of ground with a stone wall, and
sunk a reservoir in its centre, for the use of the inha¬
bitants of the town. He died in 1714, aged 90, with
the blessing of all who knew him, both rich and poor.
ThebanksoftheWye,betweenthistownand Monmouth,
are extremely pleasant. W, Long. 2. 25. N. Lat. 51. 56.
ROSSANO, a strong town of Italy, in the kingdom
of Naples, and in the Hither Calabria, with an archbi¬
shop’s see, and the title of a principality. It is pretty
large, well peopled, and seated on an eminence, sur¬
rounded with rocks. There is nothing in this archie-
piscopal city that claims much notice; the buildings are
mean, the streets vilely paved and contrived. The
number of inhabitants does not exceed 6000, who sub¬
sist by the sale of their oil, the principal object of their
attention, though the territory produces a great deal of
good wine and corn.
Rossano probably owes its origin to the Roman em¬
perors, who considered it as a post equally valuable for
strength and convenience of traffic. The Marsans, a
family of French extraction, possessed this territory,
with the title of prince, from the time of Charles II.
to that of Alphonsus II. when the last male heir was,
by that prince’s order, put to death in Ischia, where he
was confined for treason. It afterwards belonged to
Bona queen of Poland, in right of her mother Isabella,
daughter to Alphonsus II. and at her decease returned
to the crown. It was next in the possession of the Al-
dobrandini, from whom the Borghesi inherited it. So
late as the 16th century, the inhabitants of this city
spoke the Greek language, and followed the rites of the
eastern church. Here was formerly the most celebrated
rendezvous of the Basilian monks in Magna Graecia.
E. Long. 16. 52. N. Lat. 39. 46.
ROS Solis, Sun dew, an agreeable spirituous liquor,
composed of burnt brandy, sugar, cinnamon, and milk-
water ; and sometimes perfumed with a little musk. It
has its name from being at first prepared wholly .of the
juice of the p’ant ros solis, or drosera. See Duosera,
Botany Index.
ROSS*SHIRE is the most extensive county in Scot-
land>
-ft O S [ ^91 ] BOS
Bos turf, land, measuring about 80 miles in length by almost as
^ ,w much in breath, and contains 1,776,000 square acres.
It is even more extensive than any county of England,
if we except Yorkshire, and contains in it the island of
Lewis, which is one of the Hebrides, or Western Isles.
The county of Sutherland is the northern boundary of
Koss; on the east it is bounded by the county of Cro¬
marty andthe ocean; on the south by the shire of Inver¬
ness ; and on the west by the ocean.
Ross-shire is very fertile in corn, and its eastern coast,
which is ornamented with different country seatsinhabit-
ed by the proprietors, has always been regarded as con¬
stituting a part of the Lowlands of Scotland ; but the
westernpartsriseintomountains, and properly form part
of the Highlands, where the vernacular tongue is the
Erse or Gaelic.
Among the different waters which are met with in
this county, we may mention the friths of Dornoch and
Cromarty, the latter of which stretches far into the land
from the ^ oray frith. The river Ockel, which has its
source in the parish of Assint in Sutherlandshire, is one
of the chief streams of Ross; and after a course of
morethan40 miles, discharges itself into the head of the
frith of Dornoch. The river Conan bends its course
towards the east coast, and empties itself into the most
inland part of the frith of Cromarty. It contains abund¬
ance of salmon, and pearls at one period were found
not far from its mouth. The frith of Beauly consti¬
tutes the boundary of Ross with Inverness-shire; and
this, together with those of Dornoch and Cromarty, are
of considerable importance, as they afford access to a
greatpart of it by means of water carriage. Between the
friths of Moray and Cromarty, the coast is bold and
rocky,aboundingwith dreadful precipicesandhighlyro¬
mantic views. Along the shore there are numerous
caves hollowed out by the hand of nature, some of them
extremely deep, and one in particular runs entirely
through the rock, a distance of about 150 feet. There
are also natural caves on the north side of the frith of
Cromarty, some of which, it is said, are of such vast di-
mensionsas to be able to containabout 600 men. From
their upper parts there are drops of water continually
distilling, and by the petrifaction thus gradually ac¬
complished, their appearance above resembles the finest
marble. In these a variety of birds take up their resi¬
dence, and pigeons bring forth their young.
Thewestern coast is deeply indented with arms of the
sea called bays, or otherwise lochs; among which are
great and little Loch Broom, to the southward of
which there is a fresh water lake of considerable extent,
known by the name ofloch Mari, in the parish of Gair-
loch. It is about 16 miles long, but its breadth varies
considerably. It contains 24 small islands, which are
decorated with fir and other trees. We find the ruins
of a druidical edifice on the large island called Mari,
round which there is a burying ground made use of by
the inhabitants on the north side of Loch Mari as a place
of interment.
The cod-fishing has been long est ibli-hed at Gair-
loch, in the same vicinity ; nearly 40,000 cod being
annually sent to market by a single proprietor. It
has also been long celebrated, as well as Loch-Broom,
for the h rring fishery. In the parish of ( och Alsh
there are extensive banks of corals which have been
found, upon trial, to be valuable manure.
In the level parts of the country between the moun- Boas-shSre.
tains there are numerous lakes adorned with delightful -v—*
scenery, and some of them measuring not less than three
miles in length. This county is almost wholly moun¬
tainous, yet even here we find some which are more me •
movable than others, and very much calculated to arrest
the attention. Tulloch Ard is a mountain of great
height, and becomes remarkable on account of the use
which was made of it in ancient times. At the com¬
mencement of hostilities with any enemy, a barrel of
burning tar might be seen flaming from its summit,
which was the established signal, in consequence of
which the tenants and vassals of Seaforth appeared at
the castle of St Donan in twenty-four hours, complete*
ly equipped for marching against the foe. The arms or
that honourable family have this mountain for a crest.
Ben-Uaish, in the parish of Kiltearn, rears its summit
above the rest of the mountains, and may be seen across
the Moray frith, from the counties of Elgin and Banff.
It is constantly covered with snow, from which the fa¬
mily of Foulis must give, if demanded, to his Britannic
majesty on any day of the year, a snowball as quit-
rent for its tenure of the forest of Uaish. There i-s
plenty of heath and grass around its base, which affords
excellent pasture for cattle.
The county of Ross contains 82 proprietors of land,
7 of whom are of the first class, 3 of the second, 12 of
the third, 16 of the fourth, and 44 of the fifth class;
the valued rent of all these amounting to 75,0401. I OS.
3d. Scots money, as settled in the reign of Charles I.
while the real rent is computed at no less than 38,71 ll.
sterling.
The grains usually cultivated in the shire of Ross are
barley, oats, pease and beans, potatoes, and wheat on
particular occasions. A great part of the county, how¬
ever, is converted into grass, owing to the want of
markets for the consumption of other productions ; and
those wrho adopt this plan find it more for their interest
than that which is usually followed in more fortunate
situations. The soil in general is good; some of it
bears luxuriant crops, and thevast improvements in mo¬
dern agriculture, if carefully attended to, would make
the most unfavourable spots become worthy of cultiva¬
tion. Lime, marl, and shelly sand, constitute the ma¬
nure which is used by gentlemen and extensive farmers,
while smaller tenants substitute a compost of earth and
dung, in the proportion of three loads of the former to
one of the latter. The country in general lies open,
but the farms of gentlemen and some of the wealthier
tenants are inclosed; and such as are so are reckon¬
ed one half more valuable than those which are
open.
Would proprietors in this county grant their te¬
nants leases for 19 at least, instead of 5 or 7 years,
they would hold out a stimulusto industry and improve*-
ment which cannot possibly be felt as circumstances now-
stand. What encouragement has a man to bestow mo¬
ney and labour on the property of another, of which
he knows he must be deprived in the course of seven
years ! The man who holds a farm during such a trif¬
ling period, must tear all out of it he can at the least
possible expence,and leave it to the proprietor, when he
departs, little better than a common.
The proprietors of the county of Ross have of late
become very attentive to different species of improve-
O o 2 rnents ;
nos [ im ] nos
aose-shire. ments ; and in the lower parts of it we meet with exdel-
lent roads, as well as bridges built over every rivulet of
any extent whatever, which facilitate travelling, and
render it agreeable. The moors which once exhibited
nothing but sterility, are now covered with firs ; while
pines, with different species of timber, surround their
houses. The fir, elm, oak, and beech, are found to
thrive in this county, as well as various kinds of fruit
trees, not even excepting apricots, peaches, and plums.
In the central district of Ross still remains the extensive
forest of Fainish, about 20 miles in length. The west¬
ern district is very extensive ; but its general aspect is
by no means inviting. From the top of a mountain a
stranger sees nothing around him but a desolate and
dreary region, vast piles of rocky mountains with
forked summits; yet interspersed among these are many
beautiful and fertile vales, exhibiting, however, a great
variety of soil, owing to the peculiarity of their situa¬
tion.
The climate may be said to be as unequal as the face
of the country itself, since no two days in succession can
at all be depended on at any given period of the year.
Indeed the seasons may not improperly be regarded as
always wet, and the lower classes of the inhabitants
especially consider almost every thing as an indication
of rain. If mist settle on the tops of the hills ; if the
clouds be heavy; if a crow chatter, or if the day be
hot or cold, rain, in the judgment of a Highlander,
may be assuredly expected to follow. From thus ha¬
ving what some have denominateda weeping climate, it
is easy to see that it must be much better adapted for
pasturage than agriculture; yet invincible patience,per¬
severance, and a competent knowledge of husbandry,
have, in many parts of it, surmounted the obstacles that
such a climate must ever throw in the way of improve¬
ment.
The mineral productions are not very abundant, but
some of them are of considerable importance in the arts
and manufactures. Herethere is plenty of freestone, and
different species of limestone, some of which are of the
nature of marble. Marl is also to be met with, and
ironstone in great abundance. A copper mine in the
northern district of the parish of Applecross, has been
, considered by Williams, in his Mineral Kingdom, as
equally rich with any mine of the same metal to be met
with in the British empire. There is a rich ore of iron
in the parish of Alness; and in the same vicinity there
is a vein of lead, containing a large proportion of sil¬
ver. Indications of lead ore have likewise been met
with in the parish of Kiltearn. There is a chalybeate
spring near the store-houseof Foulis, the good effects of
which were experienced many years ago ; but of the
medical properties of the spring at Tienleod known by
the name of St Colman’s Well, we have no certain ac¬
counts, although the votaries of superstition have fre¬
quently drunk of its waters, and then suspended some
rags from the branches of the surrounding trees, as an
oblation to the saint.
This county contains three royal boroughs, viz..
Tain, Dingwall, and Fortrose, a description of which
wdl be found in this work, in the order of the alphabet,
as well as of Lewis, one of the Hebrides, and its chief
town Stornoway, which have sometimes been takenno-
tice of in a general description of Ross-shire, although
wholly detached from it.
In this county there are many remains of antiquity, Ross-shiie,
the most memorable of which we shall here enumerate.
There is a Druidical circle or temple on the eastern
part of the county, and parish of Kiltearn, consisting
of twelve large stones placed perpendicularly, and so
arranged as to form two ovals, which are united to¬
gether, and having equal areas, measuring 13 feet each
from east to west, and ten feet in the middle from north
to south.
There is a large obelisk in the parish of Nigg, with
figures of different animals on one side of it, and a cross
on the other, executed with considerable taste. The
former is conjectured to be of greater antiquity than the
latter. According to tradition, it was erected to per¬
petuate a shipwreck suffered by the Danes, at which
time three sons of the king of Denmark are supposed
to have perished, and to have been interred in the
place on which the obelisk stands. In the churchyard
of Nigg there once stood another of a similar nature*
likewise supposed to have been erected by the Danes,
which in consequence of a violent wind was thrown
down about the year 1725. The sculpture is still in a
state of tolerable preservation, and resembles thatwhich
is found on the other monuments left by thatpeople in
different parts of Scotland.
Craigchenichan in the parish of Kincardine, is me¬
morable for being the place w here the celebrated mar¬
quis of Montrose fought his last battle, when he was
defeated by Colonel Strachsn. Having swimmed across
the Kyle, he lay for some time concealed in Assint;
but on being discovered, he was apprehended, and sent
prisoner to Inverness. The ground on which the battle
was fought derived its name from the issue of that in¬
teresting day; for the signification of Craigchenichan is,
the JRoc/c of Lamentation. There is still seen in the
parish of Avoch, the foundation of a large castle of
great antiquity, on the summit of a hill in the neigh¬
bourhood of Castletown Point, elevated about 200 feet
above the level of the sea. Some people call this Or-
mondy hill; and tradition has given the name of
Douglas castle to the ruins. It covers a space of ground
in the form of a parallelogram, the longest sides of
which measure 350, and the shortest 160 feet, so that
the whole area contains upwards of 6300 square yards.
According to tradition, there are many places in the
eastern district of this county where bloody battleswere
fought, either with the invading Danes and Norwe¬
gians, with daring plunderers, or between rival clans,
who bitterly contended for superiority. Large collec¬
tions of stones, called cairns, direct the traveller to the
spots where the remains of the dead were deposited,
who had fallen in the field of battle. There are mani¬
fest indications of an encampment on a large plain ta
the westward of the church of Eddertown, where a
battle is said to have been fought with the invading
Danes. In its vicinity there is an extensive circle of
earth, about two feet higher than the circumjacent
ground, being flat at the top, with an obelisk in the
centre about 10 feet in height, on which a number of
rude figures may still be traced. This is regarded as
the tomb of some Danish prince.
I he abbey and castle of Lochlin are the most re¬
markable remains of antiquity in the parish of Fearn,
the former of which is said to have been first built of
mud, but afterwards constructed of more durable ma¬
terials.
R O S C 293 ] R 0 S
B -shire, terials. It measured gg feet in length within walls,
s, y—^ was 25 feet six inches broad, and its walls were 24 feet
in height. This abbey continued to be employed as a
place of worship till the month of October 1742, at
which time the roof fell in during divine service, and
36 persons are said to have lost their lives by this me¬
lancholy accident. The castle of Lochlin is supposed to
be more than five centuries old. It is situated on an
eminence about six miles to the eastward of Tain, and
seems evidently to have been erected as a place of secu¬
rity against the sudden incursions of any invading ene¬
my. Its form resembles that of a double square united
at the angles, in which union there is a staircase leading
to the top of it, which is about 60 feet in height. The
squares are not of equal and similar dimensions, the one
towards the west measuring 20, and the other towards
the east about 38 feet every way, fortified with three
turrets of such dimensions, that any one of them can
contain three or more men with ease. The castle of
Cadboll, of which few remains can now be traced, is
supposed to be more ancient than that of Lochlin, de¬
riving all its interests from a singular tradition, vis. that
no person ever died in it, though inhabited for ages;—
a circumstance, however, which may be satisfactorily
accounted for without recurring to the marvellous.
Many of the inhabitants becoming weary of life, re¬
quested to be removed; and a lady May in particular,
whose residence it was about 100 years before the pre¬
sent period, and whose lingering diseases made her long
for death, begged that she might be carried out of it,
which was at last granted in consequence of her impor¬
tunity ; and we are told that after her removal she in¬
stantly expired. The cave or subterraneous dwelling in
the district of Applecross, is considered by many, and
with great probability, as the quondam magazine of
plunder, rather than the habitation of men; and perhaps
tire same may be said of every other place of a similar
nature to be met with in this county. The castle of
Donan in the peninsula of Kintail, which is now in
ruins, was probably built in the reign of Alexander III.
of Scotland, with a view to oppose the incursions of
the Danes. It was demolished by a ship of war in the
year 171.9, after the battle of Glenshiel, a mile above
which some of the bullets fired against it are occasional¬
ly found, employed by the people as weights in selling
butter and cheese.
The chief clans in Ross-shire are the Mackenzies,
Rosses, Frazers, Mackays, Macraes, and the Munroes,
all of whom speak Gaelic, and wear the Highland dress,
esteeming the earl of Seaforth as their head, being the
lineal descendant of Mackenzie Lord Seaforth, who was
attainted for his concern in the rebellion. This county
contains 30 parochial districts, sends one member to the
British parliament, andby a census taken in 1801, it was
found to contain 52,291 inhabitants, being an increase
of 9798 since the return to Dr Webster in 1755. In
1811 the population was about 57,000. The following
table exhibits a view of the population of this county
according to its parishes at two different periods.
Parishes.
1 Alness
Applecross
Avoch
Con tin
Population Population in
in 1755. 1790—1798.
1090 1121
835 1734
1457 , 1318
194-9 2500
Parishes.
5 Dingwall
Eddertown
Fearn
Gairloch «
Glenshiel
10 Killearnan
Kilmuir, Easter
 Wester
Kiltearn
Kincardine
15 Kintail
Kirkmichael
Lochalsh
Lochbroom
Lochcarron
20 Logie, Easter
Nigg
Rosekeen
Rosemarkie
Tain
25 Urquhart
Urray
Barvas
Lochs
Stornoway
30 Uig
Population
in 1755.
1030
780
1898
* 2050 •
509
945
1095
- 1367
1570
1743
698
1371
613
2211
771
850
1261
1958
1140
~ 1870
2590
2456
Island (rf Lervis.
1995
1267
1812
1312
Population in
1790—1798.
1379
1000
1600
2200
721
1147
1975
1805
I6l6
1600
840
1234
1334
3500
1068
1125
1133
1700
1262
2100
2901
I860
2006
1768
2639
I898
Total, 42,493 50,146
See Ross-shire Supplement.
ROSTOCK, a town of Germany, in the circle of
Upper Saxony, and duchy of Mecklenburg, with an
university and a very good harbour. It is the best
town in this country ; and has good fortifications, with
an arsenal. It was formerly one of the Hanseatic towns ;
it contained about 12,000 inhabitants in 1800. It is
seated on a lake where the river Varne falls into it, and
carries large boats. The government was formerly
in the hands of 24 aldermen, elected out of the nobility,
university, and principal merchants, who were called the
Upper House, and a common council of 100 inferior
citizens, who were summoned to give their advice upon
extraordinary emergencies. The principal things worth
seeing are the fortifications, the prince’s palace, the
stadthouse, the arsenal, and the public library. The
town is famous for good beer, which they export in
great quantities. Some years ago they had no less than
250 privileged brewers, who, it is said, brewed so many
thousand tuns a-year, besides what particular persons
brew for their own use. E. Long. 12. 55. N. Lat. 54. 8.
ROSTOFF, or Rostow, a large town of the Russian
empire, in the government of Javoslaf, with an arch¬
bishop’s see, seated on the lake Coteri, in E. Long. 40.
25. N. Lat. 57. 5.
ROSTRA, in antiquity, a part of the Roman forum,
wherein orations, pleadings, funeral harangues, &c.
were delivered.
ROSTRUM, literally denotes the beak or bill of a
bird ; and hence it has been figuratively applied to the
beak or bead of a ship.
ROSYCRUCIANS. See Rosicrucians.
ROT, a very fatal disease incident to sheep, arising*
from wet seasons, and too moist pasture. It is very dif¬
ficult;
Ross-sliire
ROT [ m ] ROT
ficult of cure, and is attended with the singular circum-
Itotation stance a kind of animals being found in the blood-
vessels. See Sheep, diseases of, under Faruiery.
ROTA, the name of an ecclesiastical court of Rome,
composed of 12 prelates, of whom one must be a Ger-
mah, another a Frenchman, and two Spaniards; the
other eight are Italians, three of whom must be Ro¬
mans, and the other five a Bolognese, a Ferrai’an, a
Milanese, a Venetian, and a Tuscan.—This is one of
the most august tribunals in Rome, which takes
cognizance of all suits in the territory of the church,
by appeal; as also of all matters, beneficiary and pa¬
trimonial.
RO TA Auistotelica, or Aristotle’s Wheel, denotes
a celebrated problem in mechanics, concerning the mo¬
tion or rotation of a wheel about its axis, so called be¬
cause Aristotle was the first who took notice of it.
The difficulty of it may be represented in the follow¬
ing manner. While the circle makes one revolution on
its centre, advancing at the same time in a right line
along a plane, it describes on that plane a right line
which is equal to its circumference. Now, if this circle
carry wit it another smaller circle, concentric with it,
like the nave of a coach wheel; then this smaller circle
or nave, wril describe a line in the time of the revolu¬
tion, which shall be equal to that of the large wheel or
circumference itself, because its centre advances in a
right line, as fast <s that of the wheel does, being in
reality the same with it.
Aristotle attemp ed to solve this problem, but his
solution can only be regarded as a good account of the
difficulty.
It was next attempted by Galileo, who had recourse
to an infinite number of infinitely small vacuities in the
right line described by the ..two circles, and imagined
that the little circle never applies its circumference to
those vacuities ; but in reality only applies it to a line
equal toils own circumference, though it appears to have
ROTA
\
Definition ROTATION, is a term which expresses the motion
and m- 0f t}le different pa ts of a solid body round an axis, and
nTture”ot c)istinct from progressive mo'ion which it may have
the subject. in its. revolution round a distant point. The earth has a
rotation round its axis, which produces the vicissitudes
of day and night; while its revolution round the sun,
combined w ith the obliquity of the equator, produces
the varieties of summer and winter.
The mechanism of this kind of motion, or the relation
which subsists between the intensity of themovingforces,
modified as it may be by the manner of application, and
the velocity of rotation is highly interesting, both to
the speculative philosopher and to the practical engineer.
The precession of the equinoxes and many other astro¬
nomical problems of great importance and difficulty,
receive their solutions from this quarter: and the actual
■performance of our most valuable machines cannot be
ascertained by the mere principles of equilibrium;, but
applied it to a much larger. This, however, is nothing
to the purpose. jj
According to Tacquet, the little circle making its ro- flotation,
tation more slowly than the great one, does, on that ac-
count, describe a line longer than its own circumference;
yet without applying any point of its circumference to
more than one point of its base. This is no more satis¬
factory than the former.
After the fruitless endeavours of many great men, M.
Dortous de Meyran, a French gentleman, had the good
fortune to hit upon a solution which, after being ully
examined by a committee-of the Academy of Sciences,
was declared to be satisfactory. The following is his
solution.
The wheel of a coach is only acted on, or drawn hi
a right line; its rotation or circular motion arises pure¬
ly from the resistance of the ground. Now this resist¬
ance is equal to the force which draws the wheel in a
right line, as it defeats that direction, and therefore the
causes of the two motions are equal. The wheel there¬
fore describes a right line on the ground equal to its cir¬
cumference.
On the contrary, the nave is drawn in a right line by
the same force as the wheel, but it only turns round be¬
cause the wheel does so, and can only turn in the same
time with it. Hence, its circular velocity is less than
that of the wheel, in the ratio of the two circumfe¬
rences, and therefore its circular motion is less than the
rectilinear one. Since it must describe a right line equal
to that of the wheel, it can only do it by partly sliding
and partly revolving, the sliding part being more or less
as the nave itself is smaller or greater.
ROTACEiE (from rota, “ a wheel”), the name of
the 20th order in Linnaeus’s Fragments of a Natural
Method; consisting of plants with one flat, wheel-shaped
petal, without a tube. See Botany.
ROTALA, a genus of plants belonging to the trian-
dria class. See Botany Index.
ROTANG. See Calamus.
T I O N.
require a previous acquaintance with certain general
propositions of rotatory motion.
It is chiefly with theview of assisting the engineer that
we propose todeliver in this place arewfundamental pro¬
positions ; and we shall do it in as familiar and popular a
manneraspos.'ibie, although thismay cause theapplication
of them to the abstruse problemsof astronomy to be great¬
ly deficient in the elegance of which they are susceptible. j
When a solid body turns round an axis, retaining its state of
shape and dimensions, every particle is actually descri- the parti-
bing a circle round this axis, and the axis passes through clesT‘D0^
the centre of the circle, and is perpendicular to its
plane. Moreover, in any instant of the motion, the par¬
ticle is moving at right angles with the radius vector, or
line joining it with its centre of rotation. Therefore,
in order to ascertain the direction of the motion of any
part cle P (fig. i.)} we may draw a straight line PC 1^ste
from the particle perpendicular to the axis AB of ro- CC^CL^V ’
tation.
ROTATION.
] ation. tation. This line will lie in the plane of the circle P
' m n of rotation of the particle, and will be its radius
vector ; anti a line PQ drawn from the particle perpen¬
dicular to this radius vector will be a tangent to the cir¬
cle of rotation, and will have the direction of the motion
of this particle.
3 The whole body being supposed to turn together, it
is evident, that when it has made a complete rotation,
each particle lias described a circumference of a circle,
and the whole paths of the different particles will be in
the ratio of these circumferences, and therefore of their
radii; and this is true of any portion of a whole turn,
such as 4, or 20 degrees, or any arch whatever;
therefore the velocities of the different particles are pro¬
portional to their radii vectores, or to their distances
from the axis of rotation.
And, lastly, all these motions are in parallel planes,
a to which the axis of rotation is perpendicular.
I the When we compare the rotations of different bodies in
d rent r£SPectof velocity, it is plain that it cannot be done by
b jn directly comparing the velocity of any particle in one of
k :ct cf the bodies with that of any particle of the other; for
t ity as all the particles of each have different velocities, this
" jared corriI)ar*sou can establish no ratio. But we familiarly
f iare * compare such motions by the number of complete turns
which they make in equal times, and we say that the se¬
cond hand of a clock turns 60 times faster than the mi¬
nute hand ; now this comparison is equally just in any
part of a turn as in the whole. While the minute hand
moves round one degree, the second-hand moves 60 ;
therefore, as the length or number of feet in the line
uniformly described by a body in its progressive motion
is a proper measure of its progressive velocity, so the
number of degrees described by any particle of a whirl¬
ing body in the circumference of its circle of rotation,
, or the angle described by any radius vector of that body,
is a proper measure of its velocity of rotation. And in
this manner may the rotation of two bodies be compar¬
ed; and the velocity is v/ith propriety termed angular
VELOCITY.
An angle is directly as the length of the circumfe¬
rence on which it stands, and inversely as the radius of
the circle, and may he expressed by the fraction of
which the numerator is the arch, and the denominator
the radius. Thus the angle VCp may be expressed by
P p
Pq - This fraction expresses the portion of the radius
which is equal to the arch which measures the angle;
and it is converted into the usual denomination of de¬
grees, by knowing that one degree, or the 360th part
of the circumference, is-
595
of the radius, or that
57.2yo
7 an arch of 57.296 degrees is equal to the radius.
Fects, &c. When a solid body receives an irrpulse on any one
l panicles .or w^ien that point is anyhow urged by a moving
nnected |hrce, it cannot move without the other points also mov-
one body_ And whatever is the motion of any particle, that
each particle must be conceived as urged by a force precisely
competent to the production of that motion, by acting
immediately on the particle itself. If this is not the
particle immediately acted on by the external force, the
force which really impels it is a force arising from the
cohesion of the body. The particle immediately im¬
pelled by the external force is pressed towards its neigh¬
bouring particles, or is drawn away from them; and. Rotation,
by this change of place, the connecting forces are y*'
brought into action, or are excited; they act on the
particles adjoining, and change, or tend to change,
their distances from the particles immediately beyond
them ; and thus the forces which connect, this next se¬
ries of particles are also excited, and another series of
particles are made to exert their forces; and this goes
on through the body till we come to the remote par¬
ticle, whose motion we are considering. 7'he forces
which connect it with the adjoining series of particles
are excited, and the particle is moved. We frequentlv
say that the external moving force is propagated through
the body to the distant particle ; but this is not accu¬
rate. The particle is really and immediately moved by
the forces which connect it with those adjoining. It
will greatly assist our conception of the manner in which
motion is thus produced in a distant particle, if w e con¬
sider the particles as so many little balls, connected with
each other by slender spiral springs like cork-screws.
This would compose a mass which would be compres¬
sible, or which could be stretched, &c. And if we give
an impulse to one of these balls, w^e shall set the whole
assemblage in motion round any axis which we may sup¬
pose to support it. Now’ any one of these balls is really
and immediately moved by the elasticity of the spiral
wires which join it to its neighbours. n
We are but little acquainted with the nature of these The forces
connecting forces. It can be learned only by the phe- hy which
nomena which are their effects. These are various, al- the Parti‘
most beyond description ; but the mechanical pbiloso- ac^on
pher has little to do with this variety. The distinctions each other
which are the immediate causes of fluidity, of hardness, are equal,
softness, elasticity, ductility, are not of very difficult and the
conception. There is one general fact which is suffi- consC(luen*
cient for our present purpose—the forces by which the ces*
particles of bodies act on each other are equal. This
is a matter of unexeepted experience; and no other
foundation can be given to it as a law of mechanical
nature.
An immediate consequence of this law is, that when 9
two external forces A and B are in equilibrium by the
intervention of a solid body(or rather when a solid body
is in equilibrium between two external forces), these
forces are equal and opposite; for the force A is in
fact an immediate equilibrium with the opposite forces
exerted by the particle to which it is applied, and is
therefore equal and opposite to the force resulting from
the combination of all the forces which connect that
particle with the series of particles immediately adjoin¬
ing. This resulting force may with propriety he called
the equivalent of the forces from the combination of
which it results. The use of this term will greatly ab¬
breviate language. TIih first set of connecting forces
consists of a number of distinct forces corresponding to
each particle of the series, and each force has an equal
and opposite force corresponding to it: therefore the
compound force by which the first series of particles
acts on that to which the external force A is applied, is
equal and opposite to the compound force which con¬
nects this first series with the next series. And the
same thing must be said of each succeeding series of
particles, till we come at last to the particle to which
the external force B is immediately applied. The force
exerted by this particle is equal and opposite to that ex¬
ternal
S96 K O T A
Rotation tenial force; and it is equal to the compound force
exerted by the second series of particles on that side ;
therefore the forces A and B are equal and oppo¬
site.
lo It results from this proposition, that tv/ien any nunthcr
of externalfoices are applied ton solid body, atid it is in
equilibria between them, they are such as mould be in equi¬
libria if they mere all applied to one point. Let the for-
Fig. 2. ces « A. 6 B, c C (fig. 2.), be applied to three particles
of the solid body. Therefore a A is immediately in
equilibrium with an equal and opposite force, A a, re¬
sulting from the composition of the force AD, which
connects the particles A and B, and the force AE
which connects A with C. In like manner 6 B is im¬
mediately in equilibrio with B /3, the equivalent of the
forces BF and BG ; and c C is in immediate equilibrio
with the equivalent C x of the forces CH and CT. We
shall conceive it very clearly if we suppose the three
forces A «, B 6, C c, to be exerted by means of threads
pulling at the solid body. The connecting parts be¬
tween A and B, as also between A and C, are stretch¬
ed. The lines AB and AC may be considered as elas¬
tic threads. Each thread is equally stretched th ough
its whole length ; a d therefore if we take AD to re¬
present the force with which the particle A is held
back by the particle B, and if we w ould also represent
the force with which B is held back by A, we must
make BF equal to AD. Now (N° 9-)j the forces AD
and I F are equal and opposite ; so are the forces AE
and Cl ; so are the forces Cli and BG. Now it is
evident, that if the six forces AD, BF, BG, CH, < I,
AE, w7ere applied to one particle, the particle would
be in equilibrio; for each force is accompanied by an
equal and opposite force : and if the force A a w ere
applied in place of AD, AE, the equilibrium would
remain, because A a is equivalent to AD and AE.
The same is true of B /3 and C x. Therefore if the
three forces A a, B /3, C x, were applied to one point,
they would be in equilibria Consequently if the three
forces a A, 6 B, c C, which are respectively equal and
opposite to A a, B j3, C x, are so applied, they w ill be
in equilibrio. It is plain that this demonstration may
be extended to any number of forces.
Wemay just remark by the bye, that if three forces
are thus in equilibrio, they are acting in one plane;
and, if they are not parallel, they are really directed to
one point: tor any one of them must be equal and oppo¬
site to the equivalent of the other two ; anti this equiva-
l/?ntis the diagonal of a parallelogram, of which the other
tw7o are the sides, and the diagonal and sides of any pa¬
rallelogram are in one plane ; and since they are in one
plane, and anyone of them is in equilibrio with the equi¬
valent of the. other two, it mint pass through the same
point with that equivalent, that is, through the point of
concourse of the other two.
These very simple;propositions are the foundation of
the whole theory of statics, and render it a very simple
branch of mechanical science. It has been made ab¬
struse by our very attempts to simplify it. Many ela-
T i o N.
borafe treatises have been written on the fundamental Rof»t'oa,
property of the lever, and in them all it has been
thought next to an insuperable difficulty to demonstrate
the equilibrium of a straight lever when the parallel
forces are inversely as their distances from the ful¬
crum. u
We think the demonstrations of Archimedes, Fonse- Median;,
nex, D’Alembert, and Hamilton, extremely ingenious ; cal science
but they only bring the mind into such a state of con-
ception that it cannot refuse the truth of the ProP°si-b,
tion ; and, except Mr Hamilton’s, they labour under attempts at
the disadvantage of being applicable only to commen-simpliffca.
surable distances and forces. Mr Vince’s, in the Phi-fi011*
losophical Transactions for 1794, is the most ingenious
of them all; and it is wonderful that it has not occur¬
red long ago. The difficulty in them all has arisen ft om
the attempt to simplify the matter by considering a le¬
ver as an inflexible straight line. Had it been taken
out of this abstract form, and considered as what it real¬
ly is, a n Aural body, of some size, having its particles
connected by equal and opposite forces, all difficulty
would have vanished. ^
That we may apply these propositions to explain the Mode of
motion of rotation, we must recollect an unquestionable conceiving
proportion in dynamics, that the force which [)reduces themagni-
any motion is equal and opposite to the force which tude.l>faB^
would prevent it, when appliedin the same place and in ^c™8
the same line, or which would extinguish it in the same
time in which we suppose it to be produced. There¬
fore the force which is excited and made to act on any
particle of a body by the action of an external force on
another particle, so as to cause it to move round an axis,
is equal and opposite to the force which, when applied
to that particle in the opposite direction, would be in
equilibrio with the external force.
'1 he only distinct notion we can form of the magni-
tude of any moving force is the quantity of motion
which it can produce by acting uniformly during some
given time. This will be had by knowing the velocity
which it will produce in a body of known bulk. Thus
we know that the weight of ten pounds of matter act¬
ing on it for a second will cause it to fall Id feet with
an uniformly accelerated motion, and will leave it in a
state such that it would move on for ever at the rate of
32 feet in a second; which we call communicating the
velocity of 32 feet per second. In the same manner,
the best way of acquiring a distinct conception of the
rotatory effort of a moving force, is to determine the
quantity of rotatory motion which it can produce by
acting uniformly during some known time. 14
Let a solid body turn round an axis passing through An^
the point C (fig. 3.) perpendicular to the plane of this
figure. Let tins rotation be supposed to be produced ^'rotatory
by an external force actinir in the direction FP. Let motions,
this force be such, that if the botly were free, that is. Fig. 3.
unconnected with any axis supported by fixed points,
it would, by acting uniformly during a small moment ox
time, cause its centre of gravity G (a) to describe a
line of a certain length parallel to FP. This we know
to
(a) We take this term in its Ostial sense, as expressing that point where the sum of the equal gravitations of
a-.c i pai tic.e may be supposed united. It is by no means (though commonly supposed) the point where the equi-
xalent of the real gravitations of the particles maybe supposed to act, and to produce the same motion as when
acting
II 0 T A T I 0 K
Ri tion.
v-
to be the en'ect of a moving force acting on any solid
body in free space. The centre of gravity will always
describe a straight line. Other particles may chance to
movedifferently, if the body, besides its progressive mo¬
tion, has also a motion of rotation, as is generally the
case. Draw G1 parallel to FP. and make GI to GC
as the velocity which the external force would commu¬
nicate to the centre of the body (if moving freely, un¬
connected with a supported axis), to the velocity which
it communicates to it in the same time round the axis
C c. Also let m be the number of equal particles, or
the quantity of matter in the body. Then m GI will
express the quantity of motion produced by this force,
and is a proper measure of it as a moving force; for
GI is twice the space described during the given time
with an uniformly accelerated motion.
But since the body cannot move any way but round
the axis passing through C, the centre G will begin to
move with the velocity and in the direction, GH, per¬
pendicular to the line CG (N° 2.). And any particle A
can only move in the direction AL, perpendicular to
CA. Moreover, the v locities of the different particles
are as their radii vectores; and CG is actually equal to
the line GH, which expresses the velocity of a particle
in G. Therefore CA will in like manner express the
velocity of the particle A. If A express its quantity
of matter, A.( A will express its quantity of motion,
and will represent the force which would produce it by
acting uniformly during the moment of time.
We expressed the externa! moving force by m.G\.
Part of it is employed in exciting the force A.CA,
which urges the particle A. In order to discover what
part of the external force is necessary for this purpose,
draw CP perpendicular to FP. The preceding obser¬
vations show us, that the force wanted at A is equal to
the force which, when applied at P in the direction
FP, would balance the force A.CA applied to A in the
direction LA. Therefore (by the property of the le¬
ver ACP, which is impelled at right anyles at A and
P) we must have CP to CA as the force A.CA to
the balancing pressure, which must he exerted at P, or
at any point in the line FP. This pressure is therefore
A.CA.CA A.CA2 . . ~t x* o
or --- . As we took m.GI for the mea-
CP
CP
sure of the whole external force, GI being the ve¬
locity which it would communicate to the whole body
moving in free space, we may take G i for the velocity
which would be communicated to the whole body by
A CA2
the pressure ——^—, and then this pressure will be
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
properly expressed by m.G i. In like manner, niak may
express the portion of the external force employed in
communicating to another particle B the motion which
it acquires; and so on with respect to all the particles
of the body.
It must be desirable to see the manner in which the
forces are really concerned in giving motion to the dif¬
ferent particles.
Suppose the external force to act immediately on
the external particle F. The line FC connecting this
particle with the axis in C is either stretched or”com¬
pressed by the effort of giving motion to a remote
particle A. It is plain that, in the circumstances
represented in the figure, the line FC is compressed,
and the axis is pushed by it against its supports in
the direction CX; and the body must, on this ac¬
count, resist in the opposite direction Fjfl The par¬
ticle A is dragged out of its position, and marie to be¬
gin its motion in the direction AL perpendicular to
AC. This cannot be, unless by the connexion of the
two lines AC, AF. A resists by its inertia, and there¬
fore both AC and AF are stretched by dragging it into
motion. By this resistance the line AC tends to
contract itself again, and it pulls C in the direction
C c, and A in the direction A a ; and if we take C e
to represent the action on C, A a must be taken equal
to it In like manner AF is stretched and tends to
contract, pulling F in the direction F <p and A in the
direction A a with equal forces. Thus the particle A is
pulled in the directions An and A a ; the particle F is
pulled in the direction Ff, and pushed in the direction h/;
and C is pulled in the directionCc, and pushed in the di¬
rection Cx. Aa and A a have produced their equivalent
AL, by which A is dragged into motion ; Fj and F <p
produce their equivalent F g, by which the external
force is resisted, and F g is equal and opposite to m.Gi;
the forces C c and C x produce their equivalent C d by
which the axis is pressed on its supports, and this is re¬
sisted by an equal and opposite reaction of the supports
in the direction d C. The forces therefore which ex¬
cite in the body the motion A.AL are both external,
viz. the impelling force g F, and the supporting force
d C. AL therefore is not only the immediate equiva¬
lent of Aa and Aa, but also the remote equivalent of
gF and d C. We may therefore ascertain the propor¬
tion of gF (that is, of m.Gi) to AL (that is, of A.AC),
independent of the property of the lever, g F is to
AL in the ratio compounded of the ratios of g F to F
or A a, and of a to AL. But we shall obtain it
more easily by considering g F as the equivalent of AL
and d C. By what has been demonstrated above, the
P p directions
297
Ilctation.
acting on each particle separately. It is this point only when all the particles gravitate alike, and in parallel di¬
rections, If the body were near the centre of the earth, for instance, the gravitations of the different particles
would neither be nearly equal nor in parallel lines; and the place of its real centre of gravity, on which the equi¬
valent of its whole gravitation may be supposed to act, would be very different from G. Were we to denomi¬
nate the point G, as usually determined, by its mathematical properties, we would call it the centre of posi¬
tion ; because its distance from any plane, or its position wdth respect to any plane, is the average distance and
position of all the particles. The true designation of G is “ the point through which if any plane whatever be
made to pass, and if perpendiculars to this plane be drawn from every particle, the sum of all the perpendiculars
0n °ne side of this plane is equal to the sum of all the perpendiculars on the other side.”
If we were to denominate G by its mechanical properties, we would call it the centre of inertia ; for this
is equal in every particle, and in the same direction: and it is not in consequence of gravity, but of inertia, that
the body describes with the point G a line parallel to Fl\ We wish this remark to be kept in mind.
t
298
ROTA
17
38
Rotation, directions of the three forces g F, AL, and d C must
meet in one point E, and g F must be equal to the dia¬
gonal t E of the parallelogram E e / s, of which the
sides E e, E s are respectively equal to AL and d C.
Now f E is to E e as the sine of the angle f e E to the
sine of the angle Ete, that is, as the sine of CEA to
the sine of CEP, that is, as CA to CP, as we have al¬
ready demonstrated by the property of the lever. We
preferred thatdemonstrationastheshortest, and as abun¬
dantly familiar, and as congenial with the general me¬
chanism of rotatory motions. And the intelligent reader
will observe, that this other demonstration is nothing
but the demonstration by the lever expanded into its
own elements. Having once made our readers sensible
of this internal process of the excitement and operation
of the forces which connect the particles, we shall not
again have recourse to it.
It is evident that the sum of all the forces g F, or
m.G i, must be equal to the whole moving force 7W.GI.
that m.F p may be=?n.GI. That is, we must have
A.CA2
m.GI -f CP ; or, because CP is given when the
position of the line FP is given, we must have wz.GI
PA. CA2
—j —~—, where both A and CA are variable quan¬
tities.
This equation gives us m.GI.A.CA2. Now
we learn in mechanics that the energy of any force ap¬
plied to a lever, or its power of producing a motion
round the fulcrum, in opposition to any resistance what¬
ever, is expressed by the product of the force by the
perpendicular drawn from the fulcrum on the line of
its direction. Therefore we may call wt.Gl.CP the mo¬
mentum (b), energy, or rotatory effort, of the force
m.GI. And in like manner A.CA2 is the sum of
the momenta of all the particles of the body in actual
rotation; and as this rotation required the momen¬
tum jw.GI.CP to produce it, this momentum balances,
and therefore may express the energy of all the resist¬
ances made by the inertia of the particles to this mo¬
tion of rotation. Or f A.CA2 may express it. Or,
take p to represent the quantity of matter in any par¬
ticle, and r to represent its radius vector, or distance
from the axis of rotation, /p.r2 will express the momen¬
tum of inertia, and the equilibrium between the mo¬
mentum of the external force m.Gl, acting in the
direction FP, and the combined momenta of the iner¬
tia of all the particles of the whirling body, is ex¬
pressed by the equation m.GI.CP^r/A.CA2,=: /p r2.
The usual way of studying elementary mechanics gives
us the habit of associating the word equilibrium with
a state of rest; and this has made our knowledge so
T I 0 N.
imperfect. But there is the same equilibrium of the Rotation,
actual immediate pressures when motion ensues from
the action. When a weight A descending raises a
smaller weight B by means of a thread passing over a
pulley, the thread is equally stretched between the act¬
ing and resisting -weights. The strain on this thread is
undoubtedly the immediate moving force acting on B,
and the immediate resisting force acting on A.
r p,T2
The same equation gives us GI—
Now GI: CG:
f p.r2
:icp
: CG, =f p.r2 : m.CE.CG ;
but CG represents the velocity of the centre. Hence
wre derive this fundamental proposition /p.r2 : m.CP.CG
= GI : CG ; or, that/*p.r2 is to m.CP.CG as the ve¬
locity of the body moving freely to the velocity of the
centre of gravity round the axis of rotation.
Therefore the velocity of the centre is—
7M.GICP.CG
The velocity of any point B
fp.r2
7M.GI.CP.CB
Sv-
This fraction represents the length of the arch de¬
scribed by the point B in the same time that the body
unconnected with any fixed points would have descri¬
bed GI.
Therefore the angular velocity (the arch divided by
i t x , 1111* 7M.GI.CP
the radius) common to the whole body is = ——5—
It may be here asked, how this fraction can express an
angle ? It evidently expresses a number; for both the
numerator and denominator are of the same dimensions,
namely, surfaces. It therefore expresses the portion of
the radius which is equal to the arch measuring the
angle, such as §, &c. And to have this angle in
degrees, we have only to recollect that the radius is
57,2958.
This angular velocity will be a maximum when the
axis of rotation passes through the centre of gravity G.
For draw from any particle A the line A a' perpendi¬
cular to CG, and join AG. Then CA2 = GA2 +
CG2 =i= 2 CG x G a. Therefore / CA2 =/GA2 +
/C G =±= / 2 C G x G a, = /G A2 + m. C G2 =±=
f 2 CG x G m. But by the nature of the centre of
gravity, the sum of all the -f- G a is equal to that of
all the — Ga; and thereforedt/2 GC-j-G a is no¬
thing ; and therefore fC A2 f G A2 -f tm. C G2.
Therefore f CA2 or f p r2 is smallest, and W
is greatest when tm.CG2 is nothing, or when CG is no¬
thing ; that is, when C and G coincide.
The absolute quantity of motion in the whirling bo¬
dy,
(b) The word momentum is very carelessly used by our mechanical writers. It is frequently employed to ex¬
press the product of the quantity of matter and velocity, that is, the quantity of motion; and it is also used (with
strict propriety of language) to express the power, energy, or efficacy of a force to produce motion in the circum¬
stances in w hich it acts. We wish to confine it to this use alone. Sir Isaac Newton adhered rigidly to this em¬
ployment of the term (indeed no man exceeds him in precision of expression), even when he used it to express
the quantity of motion : for in these instances the energy of this quantity of motion, as modified by the circum¬
stances of its action, was always in the ratio of the quantity of motion.
ROTA T I 0 N.
2!)9
I itfon. dy, or tlie sum of the motions of all its particles, is
1 UJ> m ’ ‘ ^ •fV'Jl' por the motion of each particle is
J'P r~
m. GI.CP.pr
1,5 /p r!
jj. 0f The resistance which a given quantity of matter
tin sist- makes to a motion of rotation is proportional to /p r2.
in of For this must be measured by the forces which must be
a ( ntity similarly applied in order to give it the same angular
notion motion or angular velocity. Thus let one external
of ation. force be m . GI, and the other m . y/.—Let both be ap¬
plied at the distance CP. Let r be the radius vector
in the one body, and g in the other; now the angular
velocities t.—-s— and —~—=— are equal by sup-
fpr* fpg-
position. Therefore m . GI: m . yi—f p r- :fp f.
As in the communication of motion to bodies in free
apace a given force always produces the same quantity of
motion ; so in the communication of motion to bodies
obliged to turn round axes, a given force, applied at a
given distance from the axes, always produces the same
quantity of momentum. Whence it may easily be de¬
duced (and we shall do it afterwards), that as in the
communication of motion among free bodies the same
quantity of motion is preserved, so in the communica¬
tion of motion among whirling bodies the same quantity
of whirling motion is preserved.
This is a proposition of the utmost importance in
practical mechanics, and may indeed be considered as
the fundamental proposition with respect to all machines
of the rotatory kind when performing work; that is,
of all machines which derive their efficacy from levers
or wdieels. There is a valuable set of experiments by
Mr Smeaton in the Philosophical Transactions, Vo¬
lume Ixvi. which fully confirm it. We shall give an ex¬
ample by and bye of the utility of the proposition, show¬
ing how exceedingly imperfect the usual theories of
mechanics are which do not proceed on this principle.
26 With respect to the general proposition from which
all these deductions have been made, we must observe,
that the demonstration is not restricted to the time ne-
cessaryfor causing each particle to describe an archequal
to the radius vector. We assumed the radius vector as
the measure of the velocity merely to simplify the nota¬
tion. Both the progressive motion of the free body
and the rotation of the whirling body are uniformly ac¬
celerated, when we suppose the external force to act uni¬
formly during any time whatever; and the spaces de¬
scribed by each motion in the same time are in a con¬
stant ratio. The formulae may therefore with equal pro¬
priety represent the momentary accelerations in the dif-
27 ferent cases.
‘ Ac par- It must also be observed, that it is not necessary to
/of a suppose that all the particles of the body are in one
"essarily plane> ar>d that the moving force acts in a line FP ly-
iposed in ing also in this plane. This was tacitly allowed, mere-
h plane, ly to make the present investigation (which is addressed
chiefly to the practical mechanic) more familiar and
easy. The equilibrium between the force A x CA,
which is immediately urging the particle A, and the
force m . G i employed at P or F, in order to excite that
force at A, would have been precisely the same although
the lines AC and FP had been in different planes, pro¬
vided only that these planes were parallel. This is Rotation.
known to every person in the least acquainted with the
wheel and axle. But if the external moving force does
not act in a plane parallel to the circles of rotation of
the different particles, it must be resolved into two forces,
one of which is perpendicular to these planes, or parallel
to the axis of rotation, and the other lying in a plane of
rotation. And it is this last only that we consider as
the moving force; the other tends merely to push the
body in the direction of its axis, but has no tendency to
turn it round that axis. When wre come to consider
the rotation of a body perfectly f ree, it will be necessary
to attend particularly to this circumstance. But there
are several important mechanical propositions which do
not require this. 23
The motion of any body is estimated by that of its The motion
centre of gravity, as is well known. The difference °fa bo^y
between the motion of the centre of a free body and
the motion of the centre of a body turning round an jts centre of
axis, is evidently owing to the connexion which the gravity,
parts of the body have with this axis, and to the ac- &c«
tion of the points of support on this axis. This ac¬
tion must be considered as another external force, com¬
bined w ith that wdiich acts on the particle P, and there¬
fore must be such as, if combined with it, would pro¬
duce the very motion w'hich we observe. That is, if
we suppose the body unconnected with any fixed points,
but as having its axis acted on by the same forces which
these points exert, the body would turn as we observe it
to do, the axis remaining at rest.
Therefore join I and H, and complete the parallelo¬
gram GIHK. It is plain that m . GK must represent
the forces exerted by the axis on the fixed points.
If therefore GI should coincide with GH, and the
point I Avith the point H, the force GK vanishes, and
the body begins to turn round C, without exerting any
pressure on the points of support; and the initial motion
is the same as if the body were free. Or, the axis at
C is then a spontaneous axis of conversion.
That this may be the case, it is necessary, in the
first place, that the external force act in a direction
perpendicular to CG; for GI is always parallel to
FP : it being a leading proposition in dynamics, that
when a moving force acts on any part whatever of a
solid body, unconnected with fixed points, the centre
of gravity wdll proceed in a straight line parallel to
the direction of that force, In the next place GH
, . /XT1, tw.GI.CP.CG
must be equal to GI; that is, (N0 21)
?w . CP . CG i r n
is equal to GI, or —7^772 —^ an<a ^ —
JvrL1
Srr'
The equation CP =
gives us in . CG . CP
=fp r*,=f A.CA*
that/A . CA2 = fA
r \ ."GA2 = 7W . CG . CP — m
(CP — CG), = 7w . CG . CP.
J"p ’ 7W . C(jr
Syr*
m. CG
But it was shown (N° 25),
GA2 + m . CG2. Therefore
CG . CG, = m . CG
Therefore we have
(for another determination of the point of impulse P
so as to annihilate all pressure on the axis) GP=
S This is generally the most easily obtained,
m. CG
the mathematical situation of the centre of gravity being
well known,
Pp 2
29
30
31
N. B.
300
Rotation.
N.B. When CP = ~ 7r^, we shall always have the
32 wt.CG J
ROTATION.
fpr!
velocity of the centre the same as if the body were free,
but there will always be a pressure on the points of sup¬
port, unless FP be also perpendicular to CG. In other
positions of FP the pressure on the axis, or on its points
33 of support, wdil be m GI X2 sin. GCP.
Advantage It would be a desirable thing in our machines which
derive their efficacy from a rotatory motion, to apply
minishing t^ie Pressures arising from the power and from the resist-
the pressure ance opposed by the work in such a manner as to anni-
on the sup- hilate or diminish this pressure on the supports of the
ports of the axjs Gf motion 'Attention to this theorem will point
out what may be done ; and it is at all times proper.
axis-of mo¬
tion.
nay necessary, to know what are the pressures in the
points of support. If we are ignorant of this, we shall
run the risk of' our machine failing in those parts ; and
our anxiety to prevent this will make us load it with
needless and i 1 disposed strength. In the ordinary the¬
ories of machines, deduced entirely from the principles
of equilibrium, the pressure on the points of support
(exclusive of what proceeds from the weight of the ma¬
chine itself) is stated as the same as if the moving and
resisting forces were applied immediately to these points
in their own directions. But this is in all cases errone¬
ous; and, in cases of swift motions, it is greatly so. We
may be convinced of this by a very simple instance.
Suppose a line laid over a pulley, and a pound weight
at one end of it, and ten pounds at the other; the
pressure of the axis on its support is eleven pounds, ac¬
cording to the usual rule; whereas we shall find it only
St7t. For, if we call the radius of the pulley 1, the
momentum of the moving force is 10 x 1 —1 X 1,=
9; and the momentum of inertia is 10 x l2 1 X l2.
(N° 18.) = ] 1. Therefore the angular velocity is T9T.
But the distance CG of the centre of gravity from the
axis of motion is also T9T, because we may suppose the
two weights in contact with the circumference of the
pulley. Therefore the velocity of the centre of gravity
is t9t X iV = xVT of its natural velocity. It is there¬
fore diminished by the figure of the axis of the pul¬
ley, and the 11 pound* press it with of their weight,
34 that is, with 3T7T pounds.
Of knowing Since all our machines consist of inert matter, which
themomen- requires force to put it in motion, or to stop it, or to
eitia: change its motion, it is plain that some of our natural
power is expended in producing this effect; and since
the principles of equilibrium only state the proportion
between the power and resistance which will preserve
the machine at rest, our knowledge of the actual per¬
formance of a machine is imperfect, unless we know
how much of our power is thus employed. It is only
the remainder which can be stated in opposition to the
resistance opposed by the work. This i enders it pro¬
per to give some general propositions, which enable us
35 to compute this with ease.
*ueir^h ^ wou^* veiT convenient, for instance, to know
force Keces-6 £0me Po;nt ,n which we might suppose the whole rota-
sary to toiT Part °f the machine concentrated; because then we
overcome could at once tell what the momentum of its inertia is,
it* and what force we must apply to the impelled point of
the machine, in order to move it with the desired velo¬
city.
Let S, fig, 3. he th's point of a body turning round
the supported axis passing through C ; that Is, let S be notation,
such a point, that if all the matter of the body were
collected there, a force applied at P will produce the
same angular velocity as it would if applied at the same
point of the bo^ly having its natural form.
'file whole matter being collected at S, the expression
w.GI.CP , # m qj pp
“7* °f the angular velocity becomes —I—-~-
J 'l'r wi. cS2
(N 22.); and these are equal by supposition. There-
fore/p r~—m . CS2, and CS—; 2.
m
This point S has been called the Centre of Gyra¬
tion.
In a line or slender rod, such as a working- beam, or
the spoke of a wheel in a machine, CS is of its
length. 3
In a cir-le or cylinder, such as the solid drum of a
capstane, CS=N/| its radius, or nearly T75. But if it
turns r< und one of its diameters, GA—I radius.
In the periphery of a circle, or rim of a wheel, CS
=:radius nearly.
Ifit turn round a diameter, CS = sj\ radius The
surface of a sphere, or a thin spherical shell, turning
round a diameter, has CS—f radius, or nearly |
or f.
A solid sphere turning round a diameter has CS
—*/,I radiu*, or nearly T7T. This is useful in the pro¬
blem of the precession of the equinoxes. We may ob¬
serve by the way, that if we consider the whirling body
as a system of several bodies with rigid or inflexible con¬
nections, we may consider all the matter of each of these
bodies as united in its centre of gyration, and the rota¬
tion of the whole will be the same; tor this does not
change the value of ——. :
m gg
There is another way of making this correction of A simpl
the motion of a machine, or allowing for the inertia of mu^ed
the machine itself, which is rather simpler than the one ^win3
now given. V\ e can suppose a quantity of matter col- of6,),'”.611
lected at the point to which the moving force is applied, chines,
such that its inertia will oppose the same resistance to
lotat on that the machine does in its natural form. Sup¬
pose the moving force applied at P, as before, and that
instead ot the natural form of the body a quantity of
matter> collected at P; the moving force will
Produce the same angular velocity as on the body, in
its natural form. For the angular velocity in this case
in GI. CP
must be JjP^ rp2 (N° 22.) which is — ^ t|ie
CP2 fPr~
same as before.
A point O may be found, at such a distance from the Centre of
axis, that it all the matter of the bodv -were collected osciUatioc
there, and an external force w.GI applied to it in a
direction perpendicular or any how inclined to CO, it
will produce the same angular velocity as when applied
to the centre of gravity G, with the same inclination to
the line CG.
In this case, the angular velocity must be—’ ly—>
0 J ot.CO-
(N° 22.)„
Fig. 3.
B 0 T A
GI
^ (N° 22.), which is This must be equal (by
supposition) to the angular velocity where the same
force w.GI is applied in the same inclination to G.—
rr.1 i , . . . . m.GlX G
Ihe angular velocity m this case must be
53 Therefore we have
fpr*
m. GI. CG
m. GI. CG *
/A. GA2
?«.CG
and CO =
GI _
CO / r-
fP r*
f P ?2
, CO
’andGT =
m. CG'
Also, as in N° 31,
GO=‘
39
R avk-
This point O has several remarkable properties.
In the first place, it is the point of a common heavy
at proper-body swinging round C by its gravity, where, if all
**' 1 it- its weight be supposed to be concentrated, it will per¬
form its oscillations in the same time. For while the
body has its natural form, the whole force of gravity
may be supposed to be exerted on its centre of gravity.
When the matter of the body is collected at O, the
force of gravity is concentrated there also ; and if CG
have the same inclination to the horiaon in the first case
that CO has in the second, the action of gravity will be
applied in the same angle of inclination, and the two
bodies will acquire the same angular velocity ; that is,
they will descend from this situation to the vertical si¬
tuation (that is, through an equal angle) in the same
time. These two bodies will therefore oscillate in equal
times. For this reason, the point O so taken in the line
CG, which is the radius vector of the centre of inerua,
that CO is equal to ^A‘ C-^, or GO =
m. CC m. CG
is ca’led the Centre of Oscillation of the body ; and
a heavy point suspended by a thread of the length CO
is ca'kd its equivalent or synchronous ‘pendulum, or the
siOTp/t’/jewdw/aw, corresponding to the body itself, which
is considered as a compound pendulum, or as consisting of
a number of simple pendulums, which, by their rigid
conm ction disturb each other’s motions.
That CO may be the equivalent pendulum, and O
the centie of oscillation, O must be in the line CG,
otherwise it would not rest in the sameposition with the
body, w hen no force was keeping it out of its vertical
r ^ CA2
position. The equation CO = -———only deter¬
mines the distance of the centre of oscillation from the
centre of suspension, or the length of theequivalent sim¬
ple pendulum, but does not determine the precise point
of the body occupied by the centi e of oscillation ; a cir-
40 cumstance also necessary in some cases.
> ie of Mathematicians have determined the situation of this
d rmin- point in many cases of frequent occurrence. Huyghens,
11 tssitua- in his Horologium Oscillatonum, and all the best writers
of treatises of mechanics, have given the method of in¬
vestigation at length. The general pi*ocess is, to mul¬
tiply every particle by the square of its distance from
the axis of suspension, and to divide the sum of all these
products by the product of the whole quantity ot mat¬
ter multiplied by the distance of its centre of gravity
from the same axis. The quotient is the distance of
the centre of oscillation, or the length of the equivalent
f p. r*
simple pendulum : for CO =
TIG X. SOI
а. If the body is a heavy straight line, suspended by ■Rotatl(^
one extremity, CO is f- of its length. J ‘
б. This is nearly the case of a slender rod of a cylin¬
drical or prismatic shape. It would he exactly so if all
the points of a transverse section were equally distant
from the axis of suspension.
c. If the pendulum is an isosceles triangle suspended
by its apex, and vibrating perpendicularly to its own
plane, CO is f of its height.
c/. This is nearly true of a very slender triangle (that
is, whose height many times exceeds its b^se) swinging
round its vertex in any direction.
e In a very slender cone or pyramid swinging from
its vertex, CO* is ^ of its height nearly.
f If a sphere, of which r is the radius, be suspended
by a threa i whose weight may be neglected and whose
length is /, the distance between its centre ot suspen-
^2
and
sion and centres of oscillation is « + r + f _|_ r ;
the distance between its centres ot bulk and oscillation
is |-A—. Thus, in a common second’s pendulum,
° a-\-r
whose length at London is about 39| inches, the
centre of oscillation will be found about -jijj ot an inch
below the centre of the ball, if it be two inches in dia¬
meter.
g. If the weight of the thread is to be taken into
the account, ve have the following distance betv een
the centre of the ball and that ot oscillation, where B
is the weight of the ball a the distance of the point
of suspension and its centre, d the c iameter oi the
ball, and iv the weight of the thread or rod,
B)d2 —l tv (a d + a2) .c  
no— — -i__2—l 2 X-   : or, it we con-
(j m -)- B) a—^ d m
sider the weight of the thread as an unit, and the
weight of the ball as its multiple (or as expressed by the
number of times it contains the weight ot the thready
l a
00 = s+T
As the point O, determined as above, by making 41
r o r2
CO = - ‘ vw is the centre of oscillation of the body
m. LG
turning round C, so C is the centre^of oscillation of tne
same body turning round O : for resuming A.C \ in
place of p r, we have J A.CA~~m . CO.CG. Now
/• a.cl2=/;a.oa2+/a.oc2—/a.oc. 2 o (Eu-
clid, II 12. 13.), or 7rt.CO.CG =/ A.OA2+/ A.
OC2—/ A.OC, 20 a. But/A.OC2 =r rrt.OC2, = m.
OC.OC • and (by the nature of the centre of gravity)
f A.OC.’20 d = «. OC. 2 OG. Therefore we have
ni. CO.CG= f A.O A2 + »» OC OC—7«.0C. 2 OGp
and / A.OA2=7«.OC.CG + ?«.C0.2 OG—wi.CO.CO.
=7«.CO (CG + 2 OG—CO). ButCG + 2 00
is equal to CO + OG, and CG / ~ ^ ^
equal to OG. Therefore / A.OA =»*.CO.OG, and
CO which is all that is wanted (according
771.0 t-T u /-»
to N° 39 ) to make C the centre of oscillation when O
is the centre of suspension. .
If the point of suspension, or axis of rotation, be
anywhere it the circumference ofa circle or which G is
the centre the point O will be in the circumference of
another circle of which G is the centre: for, by N 38
O vj
42
302
It O T A T I O N.
Rotation.
43
GO—Now f A.GA2 is a fixed quantity;
?«.CG
and therefore while CG is constant, OG will also be
constant.
We may also observe, that the distance of the axis
from the centre S of gyration is a mean proportional
between its distance from the centre G of gravity and
the centre O of oscillation: for we had (N° .)
44
45
CS2 =
fv
and CO
—fv
CO.CG =/iir:,rrCS2and CO : CS=CS
m CG
and therefore
CG.
at which
We see also that the distance CO is that
an external force must be applied; so that there may
not be any pressure excited in the axis upon its points U1C 1ULUL1U,1, 1A L11C uuu>y wt;re Bloppea m
of support, and the axis may be a spontaneous axis of any point, each particle tending to continue its motion
conversion. This we learn, by comparing the value of endeavours to drag the rest along with it. Whatever
CO with that of CP in art. 30. This being the case, point we call the centre of percussion should have this
with a point considerably nearer or more remote than Routics,,
two-thirds of its length, we feel a painful shock or
wrench in the hand : but if we strike with that point
which is precisely at two-thirds of its length, w'e feel no
such disagreeable strain.
Mechanical writers frequently say, that O considered
as the centre of percussion, is that with which the most
violent blow is struck. But this is by no means true;
O is that point of a body turning round C which
gives a blow precisely equal to the progressive motion
of the body, and in the same direction. As we have
already said, it is the point where we may suppose the
whole rotatory momentum of the body accumulated.
Every particle of the body is moving in a particular di¬
rection, with a velocity proportional to its distance from
the axis of rotation; and if the body were stopped in
46
Why this
point is
sometimes
called the
centre of
percussion.
47
48
ImpropriC'
ty of the
term.
it follows, that if an external force is applied in a direc¬
tion passing through O, perpendicularly to CO, it will
produce the same initial velocity of the centre as if the
body were free: for as it exerts no pressure on the
points of support, the initial motion must be the same
at if they wTere not there.
If the external force be applied at a greater distance
in the line CG, the velocity of the centre will be great¬
er than if the body were free. In this case the pres¬
sure excited in the axis wdll be backward, and conse¬
quently the points of support will re-act forward, and
this re-action will be equivalent to another external
force conspiring with the one applied at O. Some cu¬
rious consequences may be deduced from this.
If the external force be applied to a point, in the
line CG ’ying beyond C, the motion of the centre will
be in the opposite direction to what it would have ta¬
ken had the body been free, and so will be the pres¬
sures exerted by the points of support on the axis.
A force m.Gl applied at P produces the initial pro¬
gressive motion ?«.GH ; and any force applied at O,
perpendicularly to CG, produces the same motion of
the centre as if the body were free. Therefore a force
w.GH applied thus at O will produce a motion wi.GH
in the centre, and therefore the same motion which
ra.GI applied at P would produce; and it will produce
the momentum m.Gl at P. Therefore if a force equal
to the progressive motion of the body be applied at O,
perpendicularly to CO, in the opposite direction, it
will stop all this motion without exciting any strain on
the axis or points of support. I herefore the equiva¬
lent of all the motions of each particle round C is con¬
ceived as passing through O in a direction perpendicu¬
lar to CO ; and the blow given by that point to any
body opposed to its motion is considered as equal to
the compounded effect of the rotatory motion, or to
the progressive motion of the body combined with its
rotation.
For such reasons O has been called the Centre of
Percussion of the body turning round C. But the
name of centre of momentum, or rotatory effort, would
have been more proper.
We can feel this property of the point O when we
give a smart blow with a stick. If we give it a mo¬
tion lound tlie joint ol the wrist only, and strike smart!v
property, that when it is stopped by a sufficient force,
the whole motion and tendency to motion of every kind
should be stopped; so that if at that instantthe supports
of the axis weie annihilated, the body would remain in
abso’ute rest. ^
The consideration of a very simple case will show Centre of
that this point of stoppage cannot betaken indifferently, peicussioi
Suppose a square or rectangular board CDD'C', fig. 4. ll0W d8*
advancing in the direction GH, perpendicular to its j|,ned'
plane, without any rotation. Let G be the centre or 8
gravity, and the middle of the board. It is evident,
that if a force be applied at G, in the direction FIG,
and equal to the quantity of motion of the board, all
motion will be stopped : for when the point G is stop¬
ped, no reason can be assigned why one part of the
board shall advance more than another. The same
thing must happen if the board be stopped by a straight
edge put in its way, and passing through G: for ex¬
ample, in the line LGM, or g G h. But if this edge
be so placed that the board shall meet it with the line
IPK, then, because this line does not divide it equally,
and because there is a greater quantity of motion in the
part C1KC/ than in the part IDD'K, though the pro¬
gressive motion may be stopped, the upper part will
advance, and a motion of rotation will commence, of
which IK will be the axis. Now suppose that the
board, instead of having been moving along in the di¬
rection GH, every part with the same velocity had been
swinging round the axis CC' like a pendulum, from the
position C d d' C', and that it is stopped by a straight
edge meeting it in the line LGM parallel to CO', in
the moment that it has attained the vertical position
C OD'C'; all its motion will not be stopped : for
although LGM divides the board equally, there is more
motion in the lower part LDD'M than in the upper
part CLMC', because every pai-ticle of the lower part
is describing larger circles and moving swifter. There¬
fore when the line LGM is stopped, there Avill be a
tendency of the lower part to advance, and the pivots
( and C of the axis will be pressed backwards on their
holes ; and if the holes were at that instant removed, a
rotation would commence, of -which LM is the axis.
I he board must therefore be stopped in some line IPK
below LGM, and so situated, that the sum of all the
momenta on each side of it shall be equal. This alone
can
ROTATION.
SOS
n ition.
>1
S2
ig. 5.
can hinder a rotation round the axis IPK. From what
has been already demonstrated, it appears, that this will
be prevented if the edge meets the board in aline IPK
passing through O the centre of oscillation, which is si¬
tuated in the line g G h passing through the centre of
gravity perpendicular to the axis CC'. This line
IOK may therefore be called the line or axis of per¬
cussion.
But any point of this line will not do. It is evident
that if the board should meet the fixed edge in the line
g GO h, all motion will be stopped, for the motions on
each side are equal, and neither can prevail. But if it
be stopped in the line p P </, there is more motion in the
part p q D'C' than in the part p q DC ; and if the sup¬
ports at C and C' were that instant taken away, there
would commence a rotation round the axis p q. Con¬
sequently, if the body were not stopped by an edge,
but by a simple point at P, this rotation would take
place. The motions above and below P would indeed
balance each other, but the motions on the right and
left sides of it would not. Therefore it is not enough
for determining the centre of percussion that we have
ascertained its distance g O from the axis of rotation by
p 2
the equation g O This equation only gives
m.gG
us the line IOK parallel to CC', but not the point of
percussion. This point (suppose it P) must be such
that if any line p P <7 be drawn through it, and consi¬
dered as an axis round which a rotation may commence,
it shall not commence, because the sum of all the mo¬
menta round this axis on the right side is equal to the
sum of the momenta on the left. Let us investigate in
what manner this condition may be secured.
Let there be a body in a state of rotation round the
axis D d (fig. 5,), and let G be its centre of gravity;
and CGO a line through the centre of gravity perpen¬
dicular to the axis DC d. At the moment under con¬
sideration, the centre of gravity is moving in the direc¬
tion GH, perpendicular to the radius vector GC, as
also perpendicular to a plane passing through the lines
D d and CG. Let O be the centre of oscillation.
Draw the line n O parallel to D d. The centre of per¬
cussion must be somewhere in this line. For the point
of percussion, wherever it is,must be movinginthe same
direction with the progressive motion of the body, that
is, in a direction parallel to GH, that is, perpendicular
to the plane DCG. And its distance from the axis
D d must be the same with that of the centre of oscil¬
lation. These conditions require it therefore to be in
some point of n O. Suppose it at P. Draw P p per¬
pendicular to D d. P must be so situated, that all the
momenta tending to produce a rotation round the line
p P may balance each other, or their sum total be no¬
thing.
Now let A be any particle of the body which is out
of the plane DCG, in which lie all the lines CGO,
p P, n OP, &c. Draw its radius vector A a perpen¬
dicular to D u and draw a n parallel to CG, and there¬
fore perpendicular to D a. The plane A a n is per¬
pendicular to the plane T) an (Euclid, XI. 4.). Draw
AL perpendicular to A a, and A l perpendicular to
a n. Then, while the body is beginning to turn round
D d, the incipient motion of the particle A is in the
direction AL, perpendicular to its radius vector A a
This motion A L may be considered as compounded of Rotation,
the motion A l, perpendicular to the plane DCG, and
the motion l L in this plane. It is evident that it is
A l only which is opposed by the external force stop¬
ping the body at P, because A l alone makes any part
of the progressive motion of the centre of gravity in the
direction GH.
We have hitherto taken the radii veclores for the
measures of the velocities or motions of the particles.
Therefore the quantity of motion or the moving force
of A is A.Art, and this is exerted in the direction AL,
and may be conceived as exerted on any point in this
line, and therefore on the point L. That is, the point
L might be considered as urged in this direction with
the force A.A a, or with the two forces of which the
force A.A a is compounded- The force in the direc¬
tion AL is to the force in the direction A Z as AL to
A /, or as a A to rt l, because the triangles A / L and
a l A are similar. Therfore, instead of supposing the
point L urged by the force A.A a, acting in the di¬
rection AL, we may suppose it impelled by the force
A.a l, acting perpendicularly to the line A /, or to the
plane DCG, and by the force A.A l acting in this
plane, viz. in the direction L n. This last force has
nothing to do with the percussion at P. Therefore we
need consider the point L as only impelled by the force
A.A/. The momentum of this force, or its power to
urge the plane DCG forward in the direction GH, by
turning it round D d, must be A.a /. rt L. (N. B.
This is equal to A.A a2, because al: a A—a A: a L,
and A.A a2, has been shown long ago to be the ge¬
neral expression of the rotatory momentum of a par¬
ticle).
Draw L m perpendicular to P p. If we consider
P p as an axis about which a motion of rotation may
be produced, it is plain that the momentum of the
point L to produce such a rotation will be A.a /.Lot.
In like manner, its momentum for producing a rotation
round n P would be A.a Z . L n. In general, its mo¬
mentum for producing rotation round any axis is equal
to the product of the perpendicular force at L (that is,
A.a l) and the distance of L from this axis.
In order therefore that P may be the centre of per¬
cussion, the sum of all the forces A.a /.L m must be
equal to nothing; that is, the sum of the forces
A.a Z.L ot on one side of this axis P p must be ba¬
lanced by the sum of forces A', d I'.Um' on the other
side. To express this in the usual manner, we must
have f A.a In P=0. But n Y=.n O—OP. There¬
fore f A.a l. n O—f A.a Z.OP=0, and/ A.a In 0=
f A.a /.OP. But OP is the same wherever the par¬
ticle A is situated ; and because G is the centre of gra¬
vity, the sum of all the quantities is A.fl l is ot.GC, ot
being the quantity of matter of the body; that is, ,
/A.a l—m.GC, and /A.a Z.OP=ot. GC . O P, —
f A. a l.n O. Hence we derive the final equation
OP _/A.«Z.ftO
— ?«.GC * 53
Therefore the centre of percussion P of a body turn¬
ing round the axis D d is determined by these condi¬
tions : 1st, It is in the plane DCG passing through the
axis and the centre of gravity ; 2d, It is in a line n O
passing through the centre of oscillation, and parallel to
the axis, and therefore its distance P p from the axis of
rotation
304
It O T A T I 0 iST.
IJotation. . . r\ A n*
i'otatioms-4—1--_; and, Sd, Its distance OP fiom the
CG
0-1
How both
centres co-
incitl e.
55
56
Further
considera¬
tions of im¬
portance.
ct ntre of oscillation is Q.
?«.CG
In order therefore that the centres of oscillation and
percussion may coincide, cr be one and the same, OP
must vanish, or SA.al.n O must be equal to nothing-,
that is, the sum of all the quantities Am l.n O on one
side of the line CO must be equal to the sum of all the
quantities A'.a' l'. n' O on. the other side.
Let D r/3 A be a plane parsing through the axis D d
perpendicular to that other plane DCG through it, in
which the centre of gravity is situated, and let C g yx
he a third plane pas-ing through the centre of gravity
perpendicular to both the planes D d <5 A and DCG.
Draw / r and a a perpendicular to a L, and r a perpen¬
dicular to c r, and then draw A a, A a, perpendicular
to « « and r d. It is evident that A a and A d are re¬
spectively equal to a / and / r, or to n Z and 7/ o; so that
the two factors or constituents of the momentum of a
particle A round the centre of percussion are the di¬
stances of the particles from the planes D d o A and
% c g 7, both of which are perpendicular to that plane
through the axis in which the centre of gravity is placed.
We may see, from these observations,that the centres
«f oscillation and percussion do not necessarily coincide,
and the circumstance which is necessary for their coin¬
cidence, viz. that A.Acc A d is equal to O. It is of
importance to keep this in mind.
There occurs here another observation of great im¬
portance. Since every force is balanced by an equal
force acting in the opposite direction, and since all mo¬
tion progressive and rotatory is stopped by an external
force applied at P in the direction q P, it follows that,
if the body were at rest, and the same force be applied
there, it will set the body in rotation round the axis
D d, in the opposite direction, with the same angular
velocity, and without any pressure on the pivots D and
d. For whatever motion of the particle A, in the di¬
rection AL, was stopped by a part of the external
force applied at P, the same motion will be produced
by it in the quiescent particle A in the opposite direc¬
tion LA. And as the pivots D and d had no motion
in the case of the body turning round them, they will
acquire no motion, c^r will have no tendency to motion,
or no pressure will be exerted on them, in the last case.
Theretore when an external force is applied at P in a
direction perpendicular to the line P p, the line D d
will become a momentary spontaneous axis of conver¬
sion, and the incipient motion of the body will perfect¬
ly resemble the rotation of the same body round a fix¬
ed axis D d.
57 There is another set of forces of which w-e have as
yet taken no notice, viz. that part of each force AL
which is directed along the plane DCG, and is re¬
presented by l L when the whole force rs represented
by AL, or by A l when the whole force is represented
by A a. These forces being all in the plane DCG,
end in the direction CG or GC, can have no effect on
the rotation round any axis in that plane. But they
tend, separately, to produce rotation round any axis
■passing through this plane perpendicularly. And the
^uoACiitum of A to produce a rotation round an axis
perpendicular to this plane, in O for instance, must evi- Rotation
dently be A.Al.nO, and round P it must he A.A/./tP, -w- ^
&e. We shall have occasion to consider these after¬
wards.
It is usual in courses of experiment'd philosophy to of ball
illustrate the motions of bodies on inclined planes and and cylin.
curved surfaces by experiments with balls rolling down ders roll,
these surfaces. But the motions of such rolling balls ^' dowa
are by no means just representations of the motions Incline(1
they represent. The ball not only goes down the in- P tS‘
dined plane by the action of gravity, but it also turns
round an axis. Force is necessary for producing this
rotation ; and as thereis no other source butthe weight
of the bail, part of this weight is expended on the ro¬
tation, and the remainder only accelerates it down the
plane. The point of the ball which rests on the plane
is hindered from sliding down by friction; and there¬
fore the ball tumbles, as it were, over this point of con¬
tact, and is instantly catched by another point of con¬
tact, over which it tumbles in the same manner. A
cylinder rolls down in the very same way ; and its mo¬
tion is nearly the same as if a fine thread had been lap¬
ped round it, and one end of it made fast at the head
of the inclined plane. The cylinder roils down by un¬
winding this thread.
The mechanism of all such motions (and some ofMech^J
them are important) may be understood by considering of these*
them as follows : Let a body of any shape be connect- motions,
ed with a cylinder FCB (fig. 6.) whose axis passes jr^ c>
through G the centre of gravity of the body. Sup- °
pose that body suspended from a fixed point A by a
thread wound round the cylinder. This body will de¬
scend by the action of gravity, and it will also turn
round, unwinding the thread. Draw the horizontal
line OGC. It will pass through the point of contact C
of the thread and cylinder, and C is the point round
which it begins^ to turn in descending. Let O be its
centre ol oscillation corresponding to the momentary
centre of rotation C. It will begin to descend in the
same manner as if all its matter were collected in O :
for it may be considered, in this instant, as a pendu¬
lum suspended at C. But in this ease O will descend
in the same manner as if the body were falling ft eely.
Therefore the velocity of G (that is, the velocity of de¬
scent) will be to the velocity with which a heavy body
would fall as CG to CO. Now since the points C, G,
O, are always in a horizontal line, and the radius CG is
given ; as also CO (N° 48.) the velocity of a body fall¬
ing freely, and of the body unwinding from this thread,
will always be in the same proportion of CO to CG,
and so will the spaces described in any given time.
And thus we can compare their motions in every case
when we know the place of the centre of oscillation.
Cor. 1. The weight of the descending body will be gy
to the tension of the thread as CO to GO: for the
tension of the thread is the difference between the mo¬
mentum of the rolling body and that of the body fall¬
ing freefy.
Observe, that this proportion between the weight of
the body and tt;e tension of the thread will be always
the same : for it has been demonstrated already, N° 42.
that if C be in the circumference of a circle whose
centre is G, O will be in the circumference of another
circie
ROTATION.
U, circle round the same centre, and therefore the ratio of
CG to CO is constant.
Cor. 2. If a circular body FCB roll down an inclin¬
ed plane by unfolding a thread, or by friction which
prevents all sliding, the space described will be to that
which the body would describe freely as CG to CO :
for the tendency down the inclined plane is a determin¬
ed proportion of the weight of the body. The motion
of rotation in these cases, both progressive and whirling,
is uniformly accelerated.
Something of the same kind obtains in common
lull bo- pendulous bodies. A ball hung by a thread not only
oscillates, but also makes part of a rotation ; and for
this reason its oscillations differ from those of a heavy
point hanging by the same thread, and the centre of
oscillation is a little below the centre of the ball. A
ball hung by a thread, and oscillating between cycloidal
cheeks, does not oscillate like a body in a cycloid, be¬
cause its centre of oscillation is continually shifting
its place. Huyghens avoided this by suspending his
pendulous body from two points, so that it did not
change its attitude during its oscillation. If our spring-
carriages were hung in this manner, having the four
lower staples to which the straps are fixed as far asun¬
der as the four upper staples at the ends of the springs,
the body of the carriage would perform its oscillations
without kicking up and down in the disagreeable man¬
ner they now do, by which we are frequently in dan¬
ger of striking the glasses with our heads. The swings
would indeed be greater, but incomparably easier ; and
we could hold things almost as steadily in our hand as if
the carriage were not swinging at all.
This will suffice for an account of the rotation round
fixed axes, as the foundation for a theory of machines
actually performing work. The limits of our under¬
taking will not allow us to do any more than just point
ih out the method of applying it.
We d of Let there be any machine of the rotatory kind, i. e.
‘Pl: composed of levers or wheels, and let its construction be
jf1' ^ such, that the velocity of the point to which the power
»j ;tiCC( is applied (which we shall call the impelled pointJ is to
the velocity of the working point in the ratio of m to n.
It is well known that the energy of this machine will
be the same with that of an axis in peritrochio, of which
the radii are m and w.
Let p express the actual pi'essure exerted on the im¬
pelled point by the moving power, and let r be the
actual pressure or resistance exerted on the wrorking
point by the work to be performed. Let x be the
inertia of the power, or the quantity of dead matter
which must move with the velocity of the impelled
point in or.ler that the moving power may act. Thus
the moving power may be the weight of a bucket of
water in a water-wheel; then x is the quantity of
matter in this bucket of water. Let y in like manner be
the inertia of the work, or matter which'must be mo¬
ved with the velocity of the working point, in order
that the work may be performed. Thus y may be a
quantity of water which must be continually pushed
along a pipe. This is quite different from the weight
of the water, though it is proportional to it, and may be
measured by it.
Let/’be a pressure giving the same resistance when
applied at the working-point with the friction of the
machine, and let an~ be the momentum of the machine’s
Vol. XVII i. Part I.
inertia, viz. the same as if a proper quantity of matter Rotation.
a were attached to the working point, or to any point
at the same distance from the axis.
This state of things may be represented by the wheel
and axle PQS (fig. 7-) where x and y and a are repre- Fig. 7.
sented by weights acting by lines. P is the impelled
point, and R the working-point; CP is m and CIl is. n.
The moving force is represented by PA, the resistance
by RB, and the friction by BF.
It is evident that the momentum of the inertia of
x, y, and a are the same as if they were for a moment
attached to the points P and R.
Hence we derive the following expressions :
. mi -i -i • P m—r+f n
1. I he angular velocity =   ——
x nr -\-y~\-an-
2. Velocity of the working-pomt=^-^ r ~L
x vr a n2
pmnr ~r-\-f n” r
fit
Formula*,
and thtir
use in prac¬
tice.
65
3. Work performed:
x rtr -\-y -)- a n1
For the
66
wrork is proportional to the product of the resistance and
the velocity with which it is overcome.
We shall give a very simple examp'e of the utility
of these formulae. Let us suppose that water is to be
raised in a bucket by the descent of a weight, and that
the machine is a simple pulley. Such a machine is de¬
scribed by Desaguliers *, who says he found it prefe- * Exper.
rable to all other machines. The bucket dipped itself Phil- vol.
in the cistern. A chain from it went over a pulley, "• P*
and at its extremity was a stage on which a man could
step from the head of a stair. His preponderance
brought down the stage and raised the bucket, which
discharged its water into another cistern. The man quit¬
ted the stage, and walked up stairs, and there he found
it ready to receive him, because the empty bucket is
made heavier than the empty stage.
Now, if there be no water in the bucket, it is evi¬
dent, that although the motion of the machine will be
the quickest possible, there will be no work performed.
On the other hand, if the loaded stage and the full
bucket are of equal weight, which is the usual state¬
ment of such a machine in elementary treatises of me¬
chanics, the machine will stand still, and no work will
be performed. In every intermediate state of things the
machine will move, and work will be performed. There¬
fore the different values of the work performed must be
a series of quantities which increase from nothing to a
certain magnitude, and then diminish to nothing again.
The maxim which is usually received as a fundamental
proposition in mechanics, viz. that what is gained in
force by the intervention of a machine is lost in time,
is therefore false. There must be a particular propor¬
tion of the velocities of the impelled and working-
points, which will give the greatest performance when
the power and resistance are given ; and there is a cer¬
tain proportion of the power and resistance which will
have the same effect when the structure of the machine
has previously fixed the velocities of the -impelled and
working-points.
This proportion will be found by treating the for- 67
mula which expresses the work as a fluxionary quan¬
tity, and finding its maximum. Thus, when the ra¬
tio of the power and resistance is given, and we wish
to know what must be the proportion of the velocities
Q q t
306
Rotation.
$8
fif)
Common
mode of
estimating
external
impulsions,
70
shown to
be e:rone'
«us.
DOTATION.
m and «, that we may construct the machine accord¬
ingly, we have only to consider n as the variable quan¬
tity in the third formula. This gives us
+/ X ?'+/ 2 -f p~.v a-\-y \ — xr-\- f
n—m x ——-   —.
pa+y
This is a fundamental proposition in the theory of
working machines: but the application requires much
attention. Some natural powers are not accompanied
by any inertia worth minding; in which case x may be
omitted. Some works, in like manner, are not accom¬
panied by any inertia; and this is a very general case,
in many cases the work exerts no contrary strain on
the machine at rest, and r is nothing. In most in¬
stances the intensity of the power varies with the velo¬
city of the impelled point, and is diminished when this
increases; the resistance or actual pressure at the work¬
ing-point frequently increases with the velocity of the
working-point. All these circumstances must be at¬
tended to ; but still they only modify the general pro¬
position. These are matters which do not come within
the limits of the present article. We only took this
opportunity of showing how imperfect is the theory of
machines in equilibrio for giving us any knowledge of
their performance or just principles of their construc¬
tion.
One thing, however, must be particularly attended
to in this theory. T he forces which are applied to the
body moveable round an axis are considered in the
theory as pressures actually exerted on the impelled
points of the body or machine, as when a weight is ap¬
pended to a lever or wheel and axle, and, by descending
uniformly, acts with its whole weight. In this case the
weight multiplied by its distance from the axis will al¬
ways express its momentum, and the rotation will (cce-
teris 'paribus) lie proportional to this product. But in
many important cases our machines are actuated by ex¬
ternal impulsions. A body in motion strikes on the
impelled point of the machine, and causes it to turn
round its axis. It is natural for us to consider the
quantity of motion of this impelling body as the mea¬
sure of our moving force. Supposing n to be its quan¬
tity of matter, and \ its velocity, n V appears a very
proper measure of its intensity. And if it be applied
at the distance CP from the axis of rotation, mV.CP
should express its energy, momentum, or power to turn
the machine round C •; and we should express the an-
n V CP
gular velocity byAccordingly, this is the
manner in which calculations are usually made for the
construction and performance of the machine, as may
be seen in almost every treatise of mechanics.
But nothing can be more erroneous, as we shall show
by a very simple instance. It should result from these
principles that the angular velocity will be proportional
to CP. Let us suppose our moving power to be a
stream of water moving at the rate of ten feet per se¬
cond, and that every second there passes 100 pounds of
water. We should then call our moving force 1000.
It is evident, that if we suppose the arm of the float-
board on which it strikes to be infinitely long, the im¬
pelled point can never move faster than 10 feet in a se¬
cond, and this will make the angular velocity infinitely
*jjiall, instead of being the greatest of all. The rota¬
tion will therefore certainly be greater if CP be shorter, kotatioa,
We need not examine the case more minutely. '-""nsJ
We must therefore carefully distinguish between the D. J*.
quantity of motion of the impelling body and its mo- to'bemad!
ving power, as it is modified by its manner of acting, between
The moving power is i\\e pressure actually exerted on the Aequan-
impelled point of the machine. Now the universal fact of®0,
of the equality of action and reaction in the collision of
bodies assures us, that their mutual pressure in their col- power of
lision is measured by the change of motion which each an impel,
sustains : for this change of motion is the only indica- ^n8
tion and measure of the pressure which we suppose to
be its cause. A way therefore of ascertaining what is
the real moving force on a machine actuated by the im¬
pulsion of a moving body, is to discover w hat quantity
of motion is lost by the body or eained by the machine ;
for these are equal. Having discovered this, we may
proceed according to the propositions of rotatory mo¬
tion.
Therefore let AEF (fig. 8.) represent a body move- ft
able round an axis passing through C, perpendicular to Fi§’ ^
the plane of the figure. Let this body be struck in
the point A by a body moving in the direction FA, and
let BAD be a tangent to the two bodies in the point
of collision. It is weU known that the mutual actions
of two so id bodies are always exerted in a direction
perpendicular to the touching surfaces. Therefore the
mutual pressure of the two bodies is in the direction
AP perpendicular to AD. Therefore let the motion
of the impelling body be resolved into the directions
AP and AD. The force AD has no share in the
pressure. T herefore let V be the velocity of the im¬
pelling body estimated in the direction AP, and let n
be its quantity of matter. Its quantity of motion in
the direction AP will he n V.
Did AP pass through C, it is evident that the only
effect would he to press the axis on its supports. But
AP, the direction of the pressure, being inclined to
AC, the point A is forced aside, and in seme small
moment of time describes the little arch A a round the
centre C. The point P will therefore describe a small
arch Pp, subtending an angle PCp=ACa. Draw
a o perpendicular to AP, and a d perpendicular to AD.
The triangles dA o, ACP are similar, and Aa : A 0—
AC : CP. But the angles AC «, PCp being equal,
the arches are as their radii, and A a : Pp=AC : CP,
=A « : A o, therefore <pp=Ao.
Nowsince, in consequence of the impulse, A describes
A a in the moment of time, it is plain that A o is the
space through which the impelling body continues to
advance in the direction of the pressure; and if V be
taken equal to the space which it described in an equal
moment before the stroke, v will express the remaining
velocity, and V— ^ is the velocity lost, and n (V—v) is
the quantity of motion lost by the impelling body, and
is the true measure of the pressure exerted. This gives
us the whole circumstances of the rotatory motion. The
angular velocity will be-— }2 —and the velocity
of the point A will be ^-CP-CA Call this ve_
Jpr-
locity u. The similarity of triangles gives us CA :
CP zz A a (or u) : A o (or and . There-
fore
KOTA
ation. „ V.CA « (V—r) CP.CA
fore —  
rw'
CP ~
n.V.CP2
v~ f p r2-j-«.CP2
77—o • From this we deduce
Jpr
and thus we have obtained the value
of v in known quantities; for n was given^ or sup¬
posed known ; so also was V: and since the direction
FA was given, its distance CP from the axis is given ;
and the form of the body being known, we can find the
value offp r2. Now we have seen that v is also the
velocity of the point P; therefore we know the abso¬
lute velocity of a given point of the body or machine,
and consequently the whole rotatory motion.
, We have the angular velocity — —; we
™ c ^ j p r2_)_M>cP2
shall find this a maximum when f p r-=zti.CP-; and in
/fp r1
this case CP = v   and v — AV. So that the
n 2
greatest velocity of rotation will be produced when the
striking body loses ^ of its velocity.
^ What we have now delivered is sufficient for explain¬
ing of ing allttie motions of bodies turning round fixed axes ;
ippli- and we presume it to be agreeable to our readers, that
n of we have given the investigation of the centres ©f gyra-
£heory tion, oscillation, and percussion. The curious reader
will find the application of these theorems to the theory
of machines in two very valuable dissertations by Mr
Euler in the Memoirs of the Academy of Berlin,
vol. viii. and x. and occasionally by other authors who
have treated mechanics in a scientific and useful man¬
ner, going beyond the school-boy elements of equili-
r. brium.
he ro- There remains a very important case of the rotation
n of of bodies, without which the knowledge of the motion
bodies, of solid bod es is incomplete; namely, the rotation of
free bodies, that is, of bodies unconnected with any
fixed points. We hardly see an instance of motion of a
free body without some rotation. A stone thrown from
the hand, a ball from a cannon, the planets themselves,
are observed not only to advance, but also to whirl
round. The famous problem of the precession of the
equinoxes depends for its solution on this doctrine; and
the theory of the working of ships has the same foun¬
dation. We can only touch on the leading proposi¬
tions.
76 We need not begin by demonstrating, that when the
direction of the external force passes through the centre
of the body, the body will advance without any rota¬
tion. This we consider is familiarly known to every
person versant in mechanics ; nor is it necessary to de¬
monstrate, that when the direction of the moving force
does not pass through the centre of gravity, this centre
will still advance in a direction parallel to that of the
moving force, and w ith the same velocity as if the di¬
rection of the moving force had passed through it.
This is the immediate consequence of the equality of
action and reaction observed in ail the mechanical phe¬
nomena of the universe.
But it is incumbent on us to demonstrate, that wrhen
the direction of the moving force does not pass through
the centre of gravity, the body will not only advance in
the direction of the moving force, but will also turn
round an axis, and we must determine the position of
this axis, and the relation subsisting between the pro¬
gressive and rotatory motions.
TION.
The celebrated John Bernoulli Was the first wdio con¬
sidered this subject; and in his IDi&quisitiones Mcchanico-
dynamiccK, be has demonstrated several propositions con¬
cerning the spontaneous axis of conversion, and the mo¬
tions arising from eccentric external forces: and al¬
though he assumed for the leading principle a proposi¬
tion, which is true only in a great number of cases, he
has determined the rotation of spherical bodies with
great accuracy.
This combination of bodies will be palpable in some
simple cases, such as the following : Let two equal bo¬
dies A and B (fig. 9.) be connected by an inflexible Fig. 9.
rod (of which we may neglect the inertia for the pre¬
sent). Let G be the middle point, and therefore the
centre of gravity. Let an external force act on the
point P in the direction FP perpendicular to AB, and
let AP be double of PB. Also let the force be such,
that it would have caused the system to have moved
from the situatien AB to the situation a h, in an inde¬
finitely small moment of time, had it acted immediately
on the centre G. G would in this case have described
G g, A w'ould have described A a, and B would have
described B b, and a b would have been parallel to AB :
for the force impressed on A would have been equal to
the force impressed on B; but because the force acts
on P, the force impressed on A is but one half of that
impressed on B by the property of the lever: there¬
fore the initial motion or acceleration of A will be on¬
ly half of the initial motion of B; yet the centre G
must still be at g. We shall therefore ascertain the ini¬
tial motion of the system, by drawing through g a line
a g (3, so that A a shall be ^ of B (3. This wre shall do
by making AC=: AB, and drawing C u g j3. Then a f3
Avill be the position of the system at the end of the mo¬
ment of time. Thus w^e -see that the body must have
a motion of rotation combined with its progressive mo-
tion. . ? s
And we deduce immediately from the premises that how’
this rotation is performed round an axis passing through tion is per-
the centre of gravity G : for since the centre describes formed in
a straight line, it is never either above or below the these casts’
axis of rotation, and is therefore always in it. 'This is
a fundamental theorem, and our subsequent investiga¬
tion is by this means greatly simplified, being thus re¬
duced to two problems : 1. To determine in what di¬
rection the axis passes through the centre of gravity.
2. To determine the angular velocity of the rotation, or
how far the centre must advance while the body make#
one turn round the axis. This establishes the relation
between the progressive and rotatory motions. It w ill
contribute to our better conception of both these pro¬
blems to see the result in the present simple case.
It is evident, in the first place, that the impressions 79
made on A and B are in lines An, 13 b parallel to FP
and G g; and therefore the motions of the points A,
G, and B, are made in one plane, viz. the plane FPG.
The axis of rotation therefore mu t be a line drawn
through G, perpendicular to this plane. If we give it
any other position, one of the points A, B, or both of
them, must quit this plane.
In the next place, in f> a produced take b c = BC.
Then supposing AC to be a rigi<; line connected w ith
the system, it is evident that if there had been no rota¬
tion, the line BC Avould have kept parallel to its first
position, and that at the end of the moment of time C
Q q 2 would
SOT
Rotation.
U
7
S08 B 0 T A
Rotation, would have befell at c. The point C therefore has had,
by the rotation, a backward motion c C, relative to the
centre G or g, and this motion is equal to the progres¬
sive motion Gg of the centre; therefore if we make
G 7 equal to the circumference of a circle whose radius
is CG, the body will make one rotation round the
centre of gravity, while this centre moves along G 7 ;
and thus the relation is established between the two mo¬
tions.
feO But farther, the point C has, in fact, not moved out
of its place. The incipient motion has therefore been
such, that C has become a spontaneous centre of con¬
version. It is easy to see that this must always be the
case, whatever may be the form of the rigid body or
system of particles connected by inflexible and inexten-
sible lines. Since the system both advances and turns
round an axis passing through its centre of gravity, there
must be some point in the system, or which may be con¬
ceived as connected w ith it by an inflexible line, which
moves backward, by the rotation, as fast as the centre
advances forward. A line drawn through this point pa¬
rallel to the axis must in this instant be at rest, and
therefore must be a spontaneous axisof conversion. And,
in this instant, the combined motions of rotation round
an axis passing through the centre of gravity and the
motion of progression, are equivalent to, and actually
constitute, an incipient simple motion of rotat'on round
another axis parallel to the former, whose position may
be ascertained. But it is necessary to establish this pro-
po ition and its converse on clearer evidence.
31 Therefore let G (fitj. 10.) be the centre of gravity of
Fig. 10, a rigid system of particles of matter, such as we suppose
a solid body to be. Let this system be supposed to turn
round the axis G g, while the axis itself is moving for¬
ward in the direction and with the velocity GI. Let the
rotation be such, that a particle A has the direction and
velocity A h. Let us first suppose the progressive mo¬
tion GI to be perpendicular to the axis Gg. It will
therefore be parallel to the planes of the circles described
round the axis by the different particles. Let CG g be
a plane perpendicular to GI. It will cut the plane of
the circle described by A in a straight line eg, and g
will be the centre round which A is turning. Therefore
A g will be the radius vector of A, and A h is perpen¬
dicular to Ag. Let A d be perpendicular to eg, and
in Ad take Ae equal to GI or g i. It is evident,
that the absolute motion of A is compounded of the
motions Ae and A h, and is the diagonal Af of the
parallelogram A e fh. In the line g c, which is per¬
pendicular to G g, take g c to g A, as A e to A h,
and draw cC parallel to g G, and produce h A till it
cut eg in n. We say that C c is in this moment a spon¬
taneous axis of conversion; for, because A w is perpen¬
dicular to A g and A r? to Cg, the angle eg A is equal
to d A n, or f h A. Therefore, since eg: g A —fh
: h A, the triangles eg A and fhh are similar, and the
angle g A c is equal to h A f Take away the common
angle g \f and the remaining angle c A^is equal to
the remaining angle h A g, and A/‘is perpendicular to
A c, and the incipient motion of A is the same in re¬
spect of direction * if it were turning round the axis
c C. Moreover, A j'h to f h or g i as A c to eg. There-
lore, both the direction and velocity of the absolute mo¬
tion of Ais the same as if the body were turning roundthe
fixed axis c C; and the combined motion Ae of progres-
T I O N.
sion, and the motion A k of rotation round G g, are Rotation,
equivalent to, and really constitute, a momentary simple
motion of rotation round the axis C c given in position,
that is, determinable by the ratio of A e to A h.
On the other hand, the converse proposition is, that *2
a simple motion of rotation round a fixed axis C c, such
that the centre G has the velocity and direction GI per¬
pendicular to CG, is equivalent to, and produces a
motion of rotation round an axis Gg, along with the
progressive motion GI of this axis. This proposition
is demonstrated in the very same way, from the conside¬
ration that, by the rotation round C c, we have c A :
c g= Af: g i. From this we deduce, that A /< is per¬
pendicular to A g, and that f h : A h—cg : g A ; and
thus we resolve the motion Af into a motion A h of
rotation round G g, and a molion A e of progression
common to the whole body.
But let us not confine the progressive motion to the 83
direction perpendicular to the axis G g. Let us suppose
that the whole body, while turning round Gg, is car¬
ried forward in the direction and with the velocity GK.
We can always conceive a plane LGC, which is per¬
pendicular to the plane in which the axis Gg and the
direction GK of the progressive motion are situated.—
And the motion GK maybe conceived as compounded
of a motion GI perpendicular to this plane and to the
axis; and a motion of translation GL, by which the
axis slides along in its own direction. It is evident, that
in consequence of the first motion GI, there arises a
motion of rotation round C c. It is also evident, that
if, while the body is turning for a moment round C e,
this line be slid along itself in the direction c C, a mo¬
tion equal to GL w ill be induced on every particle A,
and compounded with its motion of rotation AF, and
that if ftp be drawn equal and parallel to GL, <p will
be the situation of the paiticle A when G is in K.
And thus it appears, that when the progressive mo- 8*
tion is perpendicular to the axis of rotation passing
through the centre of gravity, the two motions pro¬
gressive and rotatory are equivalent to a momentary sim¬
ple motion of rotation round a spontaneous axis of con¬
version, which is at rest: but when the progressive mo- c
tion is inclined to the axis passing through the centre,
the spontaneous axis of conversion is sliding in its own
direction.
We may conceive the whole of this very distinctly
and accurately by attending to the motion of a gar¬
den roller. We may suppose it six feet in circumference,
and that it is dragged along at the rate of three feet in
a second from east to west, the axis of the roller lying
north and south. Suppose a chalk line drawn on the
surface of the roller parallel to its axis. The roller will
turn once round in twro seconds, and this line will be in
contact with the ground at the intervals of every six
feet. In that instant the line on the rol er now spoken
of is at rest, and the motion is the same as if it were
fixed, and the roller really turning round it. In short,
it is then a spontaneous axis of conversion.
Nowr, suppose the roller dragged in the same manner
and in the same direction along a sheet of ice, while the
ice is floating to the south at the rate of four feet in a
second. It is now plain that the roller is turning round
an axis through its centre of gravity, while the centre
is carried in the direction fSG® 51' W. at the rate of
five
If O T A
I ition. five feet per second. It is also plain, that when the line
m y'*"*" drawn on the surface of the stone is applied to the ice,
its only motion is that which the ice itseit has to the
southward. The motion is now a mot on ot rotation
round this spontaneous axis of conversion, compound¬
ed with the motion of four feet per second in the direc¬
tion of this axis. And thus we see that any complica¬
tion of motion of rotation round an axis passing through
the centre of gravity, and a motion of progression or
that centre, may always be reduced to a momentary or
incipient motion of rotation round another axis parallel
to the former, compounded with a motion of that axis
in its own direction.
The demonstration which we have given of these two
propositions points out the method of finding the axis
C c, the incipient rotation round whichfis equivalent to
the combined progressive motion of the body, and the
rotation round the axis G g. We have only to note the
rotatory velocity A h of some particle A, and its di¬
stance A g from the axis, and the progressive velocity
G1 of the whole body, and then to make GC a fourth
proportional to A h, GI, and g A, and to place GC in
a plane perpendicular to GI, which is perpendicular to
G g, and to place C on that side of G g which is mo¬
ving in the opposite direction to the axis.
,0 In the simple case of this problem, which we exhi¬
bited in order to give us easy and familiar notions of the
subject, it appeared that tire retrograde velocity of ro¬
tation of the point C was equal to the progressive ve'©-
city of the centre. This must be the case in every point
of the circumference of the circle of which CG, fig. <).
is the radius. Therefore, as the bo:3y advances, and
turns round G, this circle will apply iCelf in succession
to the line CK parallel to G y; and any individual point
of it, such as C, will describe a cycloid of which this
circle is the generating circle, CK the base, and CG
half the altitude. The other points of the body will
describe trochoids,elongatefl or contracted according as
the describing points are nearer to or more remote from
G than the point C is.
57 It is now evident that all this must obtain in every
1 appli- case, as well as in this simple one. And when we have
e >n ascertained the distance GC betweentbe axisof rotation
r le to passing through the centre, and the momentary sponta-
t "cTT neous axis of conversion passing through C, we can then
ascertain the relation between the motions of rotation
and progression. We then know that the body will
make one rotation round its central axis, while its cen¬
tre moves over a space equal to the circumference ot a
circle of a known diameter.
We must therefore proceed to the methods for deter¬
mining the position of the point C. This must de¬
pend on the proportion between the velocity of the ge¬
neral progressive motion, that is, the velocity ot the
centre, and the velocity of some point of the body.—
This must be ascertained by observation. In most cases
which are interesting, we learn the position of the axis,
the place of its poles, the comparative progressive velo¬
city of the centre, and the velocity of rotation of the
different points, in a variety of ways ; and it would not
much increase our knowledge to detail the rules which
may be followed for this purpose. The circumstance
which chiefly interests us at present is to know' how
these motions may be produced; what force is neces¬
sary, and ho w it must be applied, in order to produce a
T I O N. t SOD
given motion or rotation and progression ; or what will jtCtation.^
be the motion which a given lorce, applied in a given
manner, will produce.
We have already given the principles on which we
may proceed in this investigation. We have shown the
circumstances which determine the place of the centre
o percussion of a body turning round a given fixed
axis. This centre of percussion is the point of the
body where all the inherent forces of the whirling body
precisely balance each other, or rather w here they unite
and compose one accumulated progressive force, which
may then be opposed by an equal and opposite external
force. If, therefore, the body is not whirling, but
at rest on this fixed axis, and if this external force be
applied at the centre of percussion, now become a point
of impulsion, a rotation will commence round the fixed
axis precisely equal to what had been stopped by this
external force, but in the opposite direction ; or, if the
external force be applied in the direction in which the
centre of percussion of the whirling body was moving
at the instant of stoppage, the rotation produced by
this impulse will be the same in every respect. And we
found that in the instant of application of this external
force, either to stop or to begin the motion, no pressure
whatever was excited on the supports of the axis, and
that the axis was, in this instant, a spontaneous axis of
conversion.
Moreover, wre have shown, art. 84, that a rotation
round any axis, whether fixed or spontaneous, is equi¬
valent to, or compounded of, a rotation round another
axis parallel to it, and passing through the centre of
gravi'y, and a progressive motion in the direction of the
centre’s motion at the instant of impulse.
Now, as the position of the fixed axis, and the known
disposition of all the particles of the body with respect
to this axis, determines the place of the centre of per¬
cussion, and furnishes all the mathematical conditions
which must be implemented in its determination, and
the direction and magnitude of the force which is pro¬
duced and exerted at the centre of percussion; so, on
the other hand, the know ledge of the magnitude and
direction of an external force which is exerted on the
pointjof impulsion of a body hotconnected with any fixed
axis, and of the disposition of all the parts of this body
with respect to this point of impulsion, will, furnish us
with the mathematical circumstances which determine
the position of the spontaneous axis of conversion, and
therefore determine the position of the axis through the
centre (parallel to the spontaneous axis of conversion),
round which the body wTill whirl, while its centre pro¬
ceeds in the direction of the external force. 89
The process, therefore, for determining the axis of
progressive rotation is just the converse of the process ^"^axis
for determining the centre of percussion. 0f progres-
John Bernoulli was the first who considered the mo- $ive rota¬
tion of free bodies impelled by forces whose line of di- tl0n die
rection did not pass through their centre of gravity; and JJJ"™
he takes it for granted,that since thebody both advances term;Djng
and turns round an axis passing through the centre of qje centre
gravity, this axis is perpendicular to the plane passing of percus-
through the direction of the force, and through the ilon-
point of impulsion and the centre of gravity. Other
authors ofthe first name, such as Huyghens, Leibnitz,
Boberval, &c. have thought themselves obliged to de¬
monstrate this. Their demonstration is us follows :
Let
I
•310
11 O T A
ItotatioH.
Fig. 11.
S0
Fig. 21.
Let a body whose centre of gravity is G (fig. 11.)
be impelled at the point P by a force acting in the di¬
rection PQ not passing through the centre. The iner¬
tia of the whole body will resist in the same manner as
if the whole matter were collected in G, and therefore
the resistance will be propagated to the point P in the
direction GP. The particle P, therefore, is impelled
in the direction PQ, and resisted in the direction PA,
and must therefore begin to move in some direction PB,
which makes the diagonal of a parallelogram of which
the sides have the directions PQ and PA. The diago¬
nal and sides of a parallelogram are in one plane. P is
therefore moving in the plane APQB or GPQ, and
it is turning round an axis which passes through G.—
Therefore this axis must be perpendicular to the plane
GPQ.
It would require a series of difficult propositions to
show the fallacy of this reasoningin general terms, and
to determine the position of the axis through G. We
shall content ourselves with a very simple case, where
there can be no hesitation. Let A and A (fig. 12.) be
two equal balls connected with the axis a 6 by inflexible
lines A cr, B b, perpendicular to a b. Let A « be 1,
and B b 2. The centre of gravity G will evidently be
in the line c G parallel to A a and B b, and in the
middle of a b, and c G is 1Let O be the centre of
^ . A . A a2 -f B . B
osculation, c O is =  ^ , — § —.
A + B.c G ’ 5
Draw A m, B n perpendicular to c G, and suppose the
balls transferred to m and n. The centre of oscilla¬
tion wrill b;; stili at O : and we see that if the system in
this form were stopped at O, all would be in equilibrio.
For the force with which the ball A arrives (by swing¬
ing round the axis) at m, is as its quantity of matter
and velocity jointly, that is A. A a, or 1. That of
B arriving at u is B . B b, or 2. The arm m O of the
lever turning round O is f, and the arm n O is i. The
forces, therefore, are reciprocally a> the arms of the le¬
ver on which they act, and their momenta, or powers
to turn the line m n round O, are equal and opposite,
and therefore balance each other ; and therefore, at the
instant of stopping, no pressure is exerted at c. There¬
fore, if any impulse is made at O, the balls at m and n
will be put in motion with velocities 1 and 2, and c will
be a spontaneous centre of conversion. Let us see
whether this will be the case when the balls are in their
natural places A and B, or whether there will be any
tendency to a rotation round the axis c O. The mo¬
mentum of A, by which it tends to produce a rota¬
tion round c O is A . A « . A m, = 1 x A m. That
of B is-B.B 6 . B ?i, =r 2 x B h. A m and B n are equal,
and therefore the momentum of B is double that of A,
and there is a tendency of the system to turn round c C ;
and if, at the instant of stoppage, the supports of the
axis a b were removed, this rotation round c O would
take place, and the point b would advance, and a would
recede, c only remaining at rest. Therefore, if an im¬
pulse were made at O, a b would not become a sponta¬
neous momentary axis of conversion, and O is not the
centre of percussion. This centre must be somewhere
in the line OF parallel to a b, as at P, and so situated
that the momenta A . A a . A a and B . B /3 . B j3 may
be equal, or that A a may be double of B /3, or a j>
double of b p. If an impulse be now made at P, the
balls A B will be urged by forces as 1 and 2, and
t i o N.
therefore will move as if round the axis a b, and there Rotatio*.
will be no pressures produced at a and b, and a b will
really become a momentary spontaneous axis of conver¬
sion.
Now join G and P. Here then it is evident that a
body or system A, B, receiving an impulse at P perpen¬
dicular to the plane « c G, acquires to itself a sponta¬
neous axis of conversion which is not perpendicular to
the line joining the point of impulsion and the centre
of gravity. And we have shown, in art. 84. that this
motion round a b is compounded of a progressive mo¬
tion of the whole body in the direction of the centre,
and a rotation round an axis passing through the centre
parallel to a b. Therefore, in this system of free bodies,
the axis of rotation is not perpendicular to the plane
passing through the centre of gravity in the direction
of the impelling force. ^
As we have already observed, it would be a laborious Difficulty
task to ascertain in general terms the position of the of ascer'
progressive axis of rotation. Although the process is
the inverse of that for determining the centre of per- geneial
cussion when the axis of rotation is given, it is a most terms,
intricate business to convert the steps of this process.
The general method is this: The momentum of a par¬
ticle A (fig. 5.) by which it tends to change the posi¬
tion of the axis D d, has for its factors A a, A l, and
A a, which a’-e its distances from three planes D d 5 A,
DCO n, and C g y x, given in position. The sum of
all these must be equal to nothing by the compensa¬
tion of positive and negative quantities. We must find
three other planes (of which only one is in some mea¬
sure determined in position, being perpendicular to
DCO n), so situated that the sums of similar products
of the distances of the particles from them may in like
manner be equal to nothing, j his is a very intricate
problem ; so intricate, that mathematicians have long
doubted and disputed about the certainty of the solu¬
tions. Euler, d’Alembert, Frisi, Landen, and others,
have at last proved, that every body, however irregular
its shape, has at least three axes passing through its
centre of gravity, round which it will continue to re¬
volve while proceeding forward, and that these are at
right angles to each other; and diey have given the
conditions which must be implemented in thedetermina-
tion of these axes. B t they still leave us exceedingly
at a loss for means to discover the positions of the axes
of a given body which have these conditions.
To solve this problem therefore in general terms,
•would lead to a disquisition altogether disproportioned
to our work. We must restrict ourselves to those forms
of body and situations of the point of impulsion which
admit of the coincidence of the centres ot oscillation
and percussion; and we must leave out the esses where
the axis has a motion in the direction of its length ;
that is, we shall always suppose the spontaneous axis
of conversion to have no mot? on. Thus we shall com¬
prehend the phenomena of the planetary motions, simi¬
lar to the precession of our equinoctial points, and all
the interesting cases of practical mechanics. The specu¬
lative mathematical reader will fill up the blanks of this
investigation by consulting the writings of Euler and
D Alembert in the Berlin Memoirs, Frisi’s Cosmo-
graphia, and the papers of Mr Landen, Mr Milner, and
Mr \ ince, in the Philosophical Transactions. But we
hope, by means of a beautiful proposition on the com¬
position
I
DOTATION.
311
tahon. p0s{tjori Df rotatory motions, to enable every reader to
^ discover the position of the axis of progressive rotation
in every case which may interest him, without the
previous solution of the intricate problem mentioned
02 above.
J e of Let ABPC/1& A (fig. 13.) be a section of a body
a taining through its centre of gravity G, so formed, that the
!' m^L part ABPC is similar, and similarly placed with the
” ^ part A6pC, so that the plane AC would divide it
} 13. equally. Let this body be impelled at P in the direc¬
tion HP, perpendicular to the plane AC. The axis
round which it will turn will be perpendicular to G ff.
Suppose it at A. Then drawing AB and A 6 to simi¬
lar points, it is plain that B j3, b (3 are equal and oppo¬
site ; these represent the forces which would raise or
lower one end of the axis, as has been already ob¬
served. The axis therefore will remain perpendicular
to G T.
Let the body be so shaped, that if the parts to the
right and left of the point of impulse <r (the impulse is
here supposed not perpendicular to the plane AC, but
in this plane) are equal and similarly placed; then the
momenta round AC must balance each other, and the
axis EF wid have no tendency to go out of the plane
ABC b A perpendicular to the impulse.
Any body whose shape has these two properties will
turn round an axis perpendicular to the plane which
passes through the centre of gravity in the direction of
the impelling force. This condition is always found in
the planets when disturbed by the gravitation to a di¬
stant planet: for they are all figures of revolution. The
direction of the disturbing or impelling force is always
in a plane passing through the axis and the disturbing
body.
With such limitations therefore we propose the fol¬
lowing prob'em:
Let G (fig. 14-.) be the centre of gravity of a body
in free space, which is impelled by an external fotce
acting in the line FP, which does not pass through the
centre. Let m be the number of equal particles in the
body, or its quantity of matter. Let the force f be
such, that it would communicate to the body the velo¬
city v ; that is, would cause the centre to move with
the velocity v. It may be expressed by the quantity of
motion which it produces, that is, by in v, and it would
produce the velocity m v on one particle. It is requir¬
ed to determine the whole motion, progressive and ro¬
tatory, which it will produce, and the space which it
will describe during one turn round its axis.
Draw GI parallel and PGC perpendicular to FP,
and let GI be taken for the measure of the progressive
velocity v.
It has been demonstrated that the centre G will pro¬
ceed in the direction GI with the velocity v, and that
the body will at thesame time turn round an axis passing
through G, perpendicular to the plane of the figure,
every particle describing circles in parallel planes round
this axis, and with velocities of rotation proportional
to their distances from it.. There is therefore a certain
distance GB, such that the velocity with which a par¬
ticle describes its circumference is equal to the progres¬
sive velocity v. Let BCD be this circumference.
When the particle describing this circumference is in
the line CGP, and in that part of it which lies beyond
F from G, its absolute velocity must be double that of
1*4
11.
the centre- G, but when it is in the opposite point C
its retrograde velocity being equal to the progressive ve¬
locity of the centre, it must be at rest. In every posi¬
tion of the body, therefore, that point of the accompa-
nying circumference which is at this extremity ot the
perpendicular drawn through the centre on the line of
direction of the impelling force is at rest. It is at that
instant a spontaneous centre of conversion, and the
straight line drawn through it perpendicular to the
plane of the figure is then a spontaneous axis of conver¬
sion, and every particle is in a momentary state of rota¬
tion round this axis, in directions perpendicular to the
lines drawn to the axis at right angles, and with veloci¬
ties proportional to these distances; and lastly, the bo¬
dy advances in the direction GI through a space equal
to the circumference BCD, while it makes one turn
round G.
Let A be one of the particles in the plane of the fi¬
gure. Join AC, AG, AP. Draw A b, Ac, Ad per¬
pendicular to CP, CA, GA. The absolute motion
A c of A is compounded of the progressive motion A b
common to the whole body and equal to GI, and the
motion A d of rotation round the centre of gravity G.
Therefore since A 6 is equal to v, and A c is the dia¬
gonal of a parallelogram given both in species and mag¬
nitude, it is also given, and (as appears also from the
reasoning in art. 85.). it is to GI as CA to CG.
By the application of the force m v in the direction
FP, every particle of the body is dragged out of its
place, and exerts a resistance equal to the mo tion which
it acquires. A part of this force, which we may call
m v, is employed in communicating tho motion A c to
A. And, from what has been lately shown, CG: CA
, , p , v.CA
— GI : Ac, — v: A c, and therefore A c p
But farther (agreeably to what was demonstrated in
art. 16.) we have CP : CA=A c : m v, : mv,
and therefore Thereforethe whole force
CG.Ci
employed in communicating to each particle the motion
it really acquires, or mv, is equal to the fluent of the
v-^^~ . and m . CP. CG
CP.CG
Rotation.
quantity
9S
95
CP.CG
=/CA2, which by art. 23. is equal to /GA2+?w.CG.
Therefore we have m.CP.CG—?n.CGr=:CG—/GA",
or m.GP.CG = / GA", and finally, CG—
J tm.GP
Now the form of the body gives us /GA2, and the
position of the impelling force gives us m.GF. There¬
fore we can compute the value of CG ; and if cr be the
periphery of a circle whose radius is unity, we ha\ e
Jr.CG equal to the space which the body must describe
in the direction GI, while it makes one rotation round
its axis. . ,
Cor. 1. The angular velocity, that is, the number of 97
turns or the number of degrees which one of the radii
will make in a given time, is proportional to the impel-
lino- force: for the length of CG depends only on the
form of the body ami the situation of the point of im¬
pulsion ; while the time of describing tt times this length
is inversely as the force.
2. The angular velocity with any given force is as
9S
GP:
312
K O T A T I 0 IST.
Rotation. GP: for CG, and consequently the circumference
t.CG, described during one turn, is inversely as GP.
3. PC is equal to •/H-A: for we have J' PA2=
t>y
100
101
102
103
/'GA2+m.GP2.
m.GP
Therefore £1^-
?«.GP
/GA2
w.GP
- +
ana rotation : for CG =-
-r/G A*
and GP
m. CG’
m.S
the arcli of this circumference described during one ro- Rotati
tation round the axis. This is S in the above-men- ’-''v
tioned formula. Then, diminishing this in the ratio of
the circumference to radius, we obtain CG = IlA>
,T r9
=CG+GP, =CP.
w.GP
4. If the point C is the centre of impulsion of the
same body, P will be a spontaneous centre of conversion
(see art. 41.).
5. A force equal and opposite to n?v, or to f, applied
at G, will stop the progressive motion, but will make
no change in the rotation; but if it be applied at P,
it will stop all motion both progressive and rotatory. If
applied between P and G, it will stop the progressive
motion, but will leave some motion of rotation. If
applied beyond P it will leave a rotation in the opposite
direction. If applied beyond G, or between G and
C, it will increase the rotation. All this will be ea¬
sily conceived by reflecting on its effect on the body at
rest.
6. A whirling body which has no progressive motion
cannot have been brought into this state by the action
of a single force. It may have been put into this con¬
dition by the simultaneous operation of two equal and
opposite forces. The equality and opposition of the
forces is necessary for stopping all progressive motion.
If one of tlicm has acted at the centre, the rotatory mo¬
tion has been the effect of the other only. If they have
acted on opposite sides, they conspired wi h each other
in producing the rotation ; hut have opposed each other
if they acted on opposite sides.
In like manner, it is plain that a motion of rotation,
together with a progressive motion of the centre in the
direction of the axis, could not have been produced by
the action of a single force.
7. When the space S which a body describes dur¬
ing one rotation has been observed, we can discover
the point of impulse by which a single force may have
acted in producing both the motions of progression
S ,  /’GA5
and OG = t , =.-f-
° CG t R
—, and easier obtained.
m.S
This gives us G v
For the Earth =
This is equivalent to
Moon
Mars
Jupiter
Saturn
r
T57
r
555
r
195
r
]> nearly.
2.8125
r
2.688
In this manner we can tell the distances from the
^ V centre st which the sun and planets may have received
e/this^doc- t^ie s*n£^e impulses which gave them both their motions
trine to the of revolution in their orbits and rotation round their
heavenly axes.
motions. ]t wa3 found (art. 40. f) that the distance OG of
the centre of oscillation or percussion of a sphere
swinging round the fixed point C from its centre G,
is lj of the third proportional to CG, and the radius any P<mticle is
RG2
of the sphere, or that OG=:f —^ * Supposingthe pla-
CG
nets to be homogeneous and spherical, and calling
the radius of the planet r, and the radius of its orbit
R, the time of a rotation round its axis, t and the time
of a revolution in its orbit T, and making 1 : w the ra¬
tio of radius to the periphery of a circle, we shall have
‘T R for the circumference of the orbit, and -tRA for
a. AC.
~CG ’
its momentum is-
v. A C2
and the sum of all the momenta is
GC
>AC*
CG ’
v r ac2
— and this is equal to m k.GP. Rut when the
LG 1
progressive motion is stopped, A h, which was a consti¬
tuent of the absolute motion of A, is annihilated, and
nothing remains but the motion A d of rotation round
G. But the triangles d A c and GAC were demon¬
strated
h:
We have not data for determining this for the sun.
But the very circumstance of his having a rotation in
27 d. 7 h. 47 m. makes it very probable tint he, with
all his attending planets, is a'so moved forward in the
celestial sp ices, perhaps round some centre of still more "
general arc! extensive gravitation : for the perfect oppo¬
sition and equality of two forces, necessary forgiving a
rotation without a progressive motion, has the odds
against it of infinity to unity. This corroborates the
conjectures of philosophers, and the observations of
Hefschel and other astronomers, who think that the so¬
lar system is approaching to that quarter of the heavens
in which the constellation Aquila is situated.
8. As in the communication of progressive motion
among bodies, the same quantity of motion is preserved
before and after collision, so in the communication of
rotation among w hirling bodies the quantity of rotatory
momentum is preserved. This appears from the general
tenor of our formulas: for if wre suppose a body turn¬
ing round an axis passing through its centre, without
any progressive motion, we must suppose that the force
m v, which put it in motion, has been opposed by an
equal ami opposite force. Let this be supposed to
have acted on the centre. Then the whole rotation
has been the effect of the other acting at some distance
GP from the centre. Its momentum is ?n r.GP. Had
it acted alone, it would have produced a rotation com¬
pounded with a progressive motion of the centre with
the velocity v ; and the body acquires a momentary
spontaneous axis of conversion at the distance GC from
the centre of gravity. The absolute velocity AC of
ROTATION
lion.
strated (N# Si.) to be similar; and therefore AC: Ad
= CA : GA. Therefore the absolute velocity of the
particle, while turning round the quiescent centre of
v.G A . t; • GA*
gravity G, is : its momentum is —ftt:— ; the
GC
eum of all the momenta is
v/GA
GC
GC
and this is still
equal to m v. Observe, that now GC is not the di¬
stance of the centre of conversion from the centre of
gravity, because there is now no such thing as the spon¬
taneous axis of conversion, or rather it coincides with
the axis of rotation. GC is the distance from the
centre of a particle whose velocity of rotation is equal
to i\
Now let the body be changed, either by a new dis¬
tribution of its parts, or by an addition or abstraction
of matter, or by both ; and let the same force m v act
at the same distance GP from the centre. We shall
■still have nt t>. GP = ; and therefore the sum
GC
■of the momenta of the particles of the whirling body is
still the same, viz. equal to the momentum of the force
m v acting by the lever GP. If therefore a free body
has been turning round its centre of gravity, and has
the distribution of itsparts suddenly changed (the centre
however remaining in the same place), or has a quanti¬
ty of matter suddenly added or taken away, it will turn
wish such an angular velocity that the sum of the mo¬
menta is the same as before.
7 We have been so particular on this subject, because
f 'ation it affects the celebrated problem of the precession of
le if tiic t^e equinoxes; and Sir Isaac Newton’s solution of it is
n sion erroneous on account of his mistake in this particular,
equi- He computes the velocity with which a quantity of
matter equal to the excess of the terrestrial spheroid
over the inscribed sphere would perform its librations
if detached from the spherical nucleus. He then sup¬
poses it suddenly to adhere to the sphere, and to drag
it into the same libratory motion ; and he computes the
libration of the whole mass, upon the supposition that
the quantity of motion in the libratory spheroid is the
same with the previous quantity of motion of the libra-
ting redundant ring or shell; whereas he should have
computed it on the supposition that it was the quantity
of momenta that remained unchanged.
The same thing obtains in rotations round fixed axes,
as appears by the perfect sameness of the formulae for
both classes of motions.
This law, which, in imitation of the Leibnitzians,
we might call the conservatio momentorum, makes it of
importance to have expressions of the value of the ac¬
cumulated momenta in such cases as most fr equently
occur. The most frequent is that of a sphere or sphe¬
roid in rotation round an axis or an equatorial diame¬
ter ; and a knowledge . f it is necessary for the solution
of the problem of the precession of the equinoxes. See
PilECESSION, N° 33.
Let AP up (fig. 15.) be a sphere turning round the
diameter P p, and let DD', did' be tw o circles parallel to
the equator A n, very near each other, comprehending
between them an elementary slice of the sphere. Let
C \be = «, C3 — x, and BD = y, and let t be the
circumference of a circle whose radius is 1. Lastly,
let the velocity of the point A be v. Then
Vol, XVIII. Part L
I
'g 5.
v ~ is the velocity at the distance^ from the axis, v y
is the quantity of matter in the circumference whose
radius is y ; for it is the length of that circumference
when expanded.
-——, or ^ x *y, is the quantity of motion in this
a a
circumference turning round the axis P p.
V-~y~ is the momentum of the same circumference.
is the fluxion of the momentm of the circle
a
whose radius is y, turning in its owrn plane round the
axis.
is the fluent, or the momentum of the whole
v iry'
4.a
circle ; and therefore it is the momentum of the circle
DD'.
v 'T:?/ X is the fluxion of the momentum of the he-
4a
misphere; for B£ x, and this fraction is the momen¬
tum of the slice d D D'd'.
y1 — a2 —x2, and y4 = a4 —2 a2 £2 -fa4* There¬
fore-^^ x (a4 x—2 a <£ -)- x4 x~) is the fluxion of the
2a
jmomentum of the whole sphere. Of this the fluent
for the segments whose heights are CB, or x, is e w
2 a
(aAx-
2 a2
3
-+t)
vv ft4.
Let x become a, and we have for the momentum of
the whole sphere — (a5—§ a5 -|- } a5),= vrr^  
a* . «4\  
~S+ldJ ~
Let us suppose that this rotation has been produced
by the action of a force m u ; that is, a force which
would communicate the velocity u to the whole matter
of the sphere, had it actedina direction passing through
its centre; and let us suppose that this force acted on
the equatorial point A at right angles to AC : its mo¬
mentum is 7M m ft, and this is equal to v ft t4j a4. Also,
we know that m — ^ rr a3. Therefore we have u . §
v «4—v Wft4, f M = iV v, and u = f w.
Let EPQ p be an oblate spheroid whose semi-axis
PC is a, and equatorial radius EC is b, and let v be the
velocity on the equator of the inscribed sphere. Then
since the momentum of the whirling circle D D is
vJ—-} the momenta of the sphere and spheroid are in
4 a
the quadruplicate ratio of their equatorial radii; and
therefore that of the whole spheroid is T4? <n IA v. And
if tv be the velocity at E corresponding to the velocity
r at A, so that rv z=. -v, we have the momentum of
a
the spheroid, expressed in terms of the equatorial veloci¬
ty at the surface, ^ b3 a tv.
If the same force m u be made to act in the same
f R r manner
313
Rotation.
110
111
514
notation.
B 0 T A
manner at E, its momentum m u b h = j% b3 a tv, and
tv— \--m —. Therefore the angularvelocities~
4t or b 2 n a b
•which the same force m u acting at A or E will produce
in the sphere and the spheroid, are as
15 mu
4i tu'1
and
15 mu>
4> b3 a
that is, in the triplicate ratio of the equatorial diameter
b to the polar axis ft.
112 Lastly, if the oblate spheroid is made to turn round
an equatorial diameter passing through C perpendicular
to the plane of the figure, it is plain that every section
parallel to the meridian E P Q p is an ellipse similar to
this meridian. If this ellipse differs very little from the
inscribed circle, as is the case of the earth in theproblem
of the precession of the equinoxes, the momentum of
each ellipse may be considered as equal to thatofa circle
of the same area, or who*e diameter is a mean propor¬
tional between the equatorial and polar diameters of the
spheroid. This radius is to the radius of the circum¬
scribed circle as b a to b. Therefore the momenta
of the section of the spheroid and of the circumscribed
sphere are in the constant ratio of b- a2 to A4; or of u~
to 62. And if the velocity in the equator of this cir¬
cumscribed sphere be called tv, the momentum of the
sphere b T4^ irb* w ; and therefore that of the spheroid
is t4j vr /d rv, agreeably to what was assumed in the
article Precession, N° 33.
This value of the momentum of a spheroid round an
equatorial diameter is only a very easy approximation ;
an exact value may be obtained by an infinite series.
The whole matter of the spheroid may be considered as
uniformly distributed on thesurfaceof asimilar spheroid
whose diameter is = s/ l of the diameter of the sphe¬
roid. It will have the same momer.-tum, because a tri¬
angle in one of the ellipses, having an elementary arch
of the circumference for its base, and the centre of the
ellipse for its vertex, has its centre of gyration distant
113
All icta-
tory mo¬
tions ac¬
companied
by centri¬
fugal forces.
from the vertex | the length of the radius of the
ellipse, and the problem is reduced to the finding the
sum of all these lines. But even when the series for
this sum involves the 3d power of the eccentricity, it is
not more exact than the above approximation.
A similar proposition may be obtained for a prolate
spheroid vibrating round an equatori d diameter, and
applied to the conjectural shape of the mocn, for ex¬
plaining her oscillations.
The reader must have observed that the preceding
disquisitions refer to those motions only which result
from the action of external forces and to the state of
incipient motion. All circular motions, such as those
of rotation, are accompanied by centrifugal forces. A
central force is necessary ior retaining every particle in
its circular path ; such forces must therefore be excited
in the body, and can arise only from the forces of c'c-
hesion by which its particles are held together. These
forces are mutual, equal, and opposite ; and as much as
a particle A (fig. 5.) is retained by a force in the di¬
rection A a of the line which connects it with the fix¬
ed axis D cl, or in the direction AG (fig. 10.), which
connects it with the progressive axis; so much must the
point a of the axis I) d be urged in the opposite direc¬
tion a A, or so much must the whole body be urged in
the direction GA. Every point therefore of the ax’s
T I O
D d, or of the axis through G in fig. 10. is carried in !•
a variety of directions perpendicular to itself. These *
forces mayor may not balance each other. It this ba¬
lance obtains with respect to the fixed axis, its supports
will sustain no pressurebut w’hat arisesfrom the external
force : if not one support will be more} ressed than the
other; and if both wereremoved, the axis would change
its position. The same must be affirmed of the axis
through G in fig. 1C. This, having no support, must
change its position.
A.nd thus it may happen, that the axis of rotation j
passing through G which has been determined by the
preceding disquisitions, is not permanent either in re¬
spect of the body, or in respect of absolute space. T hese
two rotations are essentially different. The way to con¬
ceive both is this. Suppose a spherical surface descri¬
bed round the body, having its centre in the centre of
gravity ; and suppose this surface to revol'veand to pro¬
ceed forward along with the body : in short, let it be
conceived as an immaterial surfaceattached to the body.
The axis of rotation will pass through this surface in
two points which we shall call its poles. Now, we say
that the axis is permanent with respect to the body
when it has always the same poles in this spherical sur¬
face. Suppose another spherical surface described round
the same centre, and that this surface also accompanies
the body in all its progressive motion, but does not turn
wirh it. The axis is permanent with respect to abso¬
lute space when ithas always the same poles in this sur¬
face : ii is evident that these two facts are not insepa¬
rable. A boy’s top spins on the same point and the
same corporeal axis, while, towards the end of its mo¬
tion, we observe it directing this round and round to
different quarters of the room. And when we make
an egg or a lemon spin with great rapidity on its side
on a level table, we see it gradually rise up, till it stand
quite on end, spinning all the whileroundan axis point¬
ing to the zenith.
This change in the position of the axis is produced
by the unbalanced actions of the centrifugal forces ex¬
erted by the particles. Suppose two equal bails A and
B (fig. 16 ) connected by an inflexible rod whose middle
point is G, the centre of gravity of the ba Is, This
system may be made to turn round the material axis D d,
A describing the circle AEFA, and B describing the
circle BHKB. The rod AB may also be conceived
as moveable round the point G by means of a pin at
right angles to the axis. Suppose the balls passing
through the situations A and B ; their centrifugal forces
urge them at the same time in the directions CA and
OB, which impulsions conspire to make the connecting
rod recede from both ends of the axis D cl. And thus
the balls, instead of describing parallel ch*cles roundthis
a.xis, will describe parallel spirals, gradu illy opening the
angles DGA, d GB more and more, till the balls ac¬
quire the position a ;3 at right angles to the axis. 1 hey
wiil not stop there, for each came into that position
with an oblique motion. They will pass it; and were
it not for the resistance of the air and the friction ot
the joint at G, they would go on tdl the ball A came
to describe the circle BHK, and the ball B to describe
the circle AEF. The centrifugal forces will now have
exhausted by opposition all the motions which they had
acquired during their passage from the position AB to
the position a l3 ■ and now they will again describe spi-
11 0 T A
+ tatior. rals gradually opening, and then contracting, till the
Y^1 balls arrive at their original position A B, when the pro¬
cess will begin again., Thus they will continue a kind
of oscillating rotation.
lid Thus the axis is continually changing with respect
to the system of balls ; but it is fixed in respect to ab¬
solute space, because the axis D d is supported. It does
not yet appear that it has any tendency to change its
position, because the centrifugal tendency of the balls
is completely yielded to by the joint at G. The mate¬
rial axis has indeed sustained no change; but the real
axis, or mathematical line round which the rotation was
going on every moment, has been continually shifting
its place. This is not so obvious, and requires a more
attentive consideration. To show accurately the gra¬
dual change of position of the real axis of rotation would
require a long discussion. We shall content ourselves
with exhibiting a case where the position of the momen¬
tary axis is unquestionably different from D d, which
we may suppose horizontal.
Take the bills in the position a $. They came into
this position with a spiral motion, and therefore each
of them was moving obliquely to the tangents a <p, j3 y
to the circle a d fit, suppose in the directions a 6, fi X.
They are therefore moving round the centre G in a
plane 6 afi\. inclined to the plane <p afiy of the circle
uh fit. The momentary axis of rotation is therefore per¬
pendicular to this oblique plane, and therefore does not
U7 coincide with D d.
the eva- We cannot enter upon the investigation of this eva-
tn of gation of the axis, although the subject is both cu-
axis. rious and important to the speculative mathematicians.
A knowledge of it is absolutely necessary to a complete
solution of the great problem of the precession. But
when treating that article, we contented ourselves with
Showing that the evagation which obtains in this natu¬
ral phenomenon is so exceedingly minute, that although
multiplied many thousands of times, it would escape
the nicest observation of modern astronomers ; and that
it is a thing which does not accumulate beyond a cei*-
tain limit, much too small for observation, and then
diminishes again, and is periodical. Euler, D’Alem¬
bert, Frisi, and Dela Grange, have shown the momen¬
tary position of the real variable axis Corresponding
to any given time ; and Landen has with great inge¬
nuity and elegance connected these momentary posi¬
tions, and given the whole paths of evagation. Mr
Segnor waY we believe, the first who showed (in a
Dissertation T)e Motu Turbinum, Halle, 1755), that in
every body t here wereatleastthree lines passing through
the centre of gravity at right angles to each other, form¬
ing the solid angle of a cube, round which the centri¬
fugal forces were accurately balanced, and therefore a
rotation begun round either of these three lines would
be continued, and they are permanent axes of rotation.
Albert Eu'er gave the first demonstration in 1760, and
since that time the investigation of these axes has been
extended and improved by the different authors already
named. It is an exceedingly difficult subject; and we
recommend the synthetical investigation by Frisi in his
Comographia as the fittest for instructing a curious rea¬
der to whom the subject is new. We shall conclude
this dissertation with a beautiful theorem, the enuncia¬
tion of which wc owe to P. Frisi, which has amazingly
improved the whole theory, and gives easy and elegant
T I 0 N. Si 5
solutions of the most difficult problem?. It is analogous Rotation,
to the great theorem of the composition of motions and
forces. , 1]S
If a body turn round an axis AG a (fig. 17-) pas- p. Frisi’s
sing through its centre of gravity G with the angular theorem,
velocity a, while this axis is carried round another Fig* D*
axis BG b with the angular velocity b, and if GD be
taken to GK as a to 6 (the points B and E being taken
on that side of the centre where they are moving to¬
wards the same side of the plane of the figure), and
the line DE be drawn, then the wdiole and every
particle of the bodyr will be in a state of rotation round
a third axis CG c, lying in the plane of the other two,
and parallel to DE, and the angular velocity c round
this axis will be to a and to b as DE is to GD and to
GE.
For, let P be any particle of the body, and suppose
a spherical surface to be described round G passing
through P. Draw PR perpendicular to the plane of
the figure. It is evident that PR is the common sec¬
tion of the circle of rotation IP i round the axis A a,
and the circle KP k of rotation round the axis B b. Let
It, K A- be the diameters of these circles of rotation,
F and G their centres. Draw the radii PF and PO,
and the tangents PM and PN. These tangents are in
a plane MPN which touches the sphere in P, and cuts
the plane of the axis in a line MN, to which a line
drawn from the centre G of the sphere through the
point Ris perpendicular. Let PN represent the velo-^
cit}^ of rotation of the point P round the axis B b, and
P y its velocity of rotation round A a. Complete the
parallelogram PN tf. Then P / is the direction and ve¬
locity of motion resulting from the composition of PN
and Pyi P / is in the plane MPN, because the diago¬
nal of a parallelogram is in the plane of its sides PN
and VJl
Let perpendiculars / F, t T, be drawn to the plane
of the axes, and the parallelogram PN t f "will be ovtho-
graphically projected on that plane, its projection being
a parallelogram RNTF. (F here falls on the centre by
accident). Draw the diagonal RT. It is evident that
the plane PR t T is perpendicu’ar to the planeof the two
axes, because PR is so. Therefore the compound mo¬
tion P Z is in the plane of a circle of revolution round
some axis situated in the plane of the other two. There¬
fore produce TR, and draw GC cutting it at right
angles in H, and let L P / be the circle, and PH a ra¬
dius. P Z is therefore a tangent, and pependicular to
PH, and will meet RT in some point Q of the line
MN. The particle P is in a state of rotation round
the axis CG c, and its velocity is to the velocities round
A a or B 5 as P Z to V f or PN. The triangle PRN and
OPN are similar. For PN the tangent is perpendicular
to the radius OP, and PR is perpendicular to ON.
PI? F»N
Therefore OP: PN = PR : RN, and RN
But the velocity of P round the axis B 5 is OP b. 1 iiere-
fore RN = — PR.6. In like manner RF
OP
rrPR.a. Therefore RF: RN — a : b =zGD : GE.
But NT : RN=sine NRT: sine NTR, and G D : GE
= sineGED : sine GDE. Therefore sine NRT : sine
NTR—sine GED : sine GDE. But RNT—EGD,
for NR is perpendicular to EG and NT (being parallel
R r 2 to
316
ROTATION.
■Rotation.
119
Expressed
in general
terms.
120
Conclusions
deduced
from this
proposition.
to IF) is perpendicular to DG. Therefore TR is per¬
pendicular to ED, and C c is parallel to ED, and the
rotation of the particle P is round an axis parallel to ED.
And since RN, RF, RT, are as the velocities b, a,
c, round these different axes, and are proportional to
EG, DG, DE, we have c to a or to 6 as ED to GD
or GE, and the proposition is demonstrated.
This theorem maybe thus expressed in general terms.
If a body revolves round an axis passing through its
centre of gravity with the angula: velocity a, while this
axis is carried round another axis, also passing through
its centre of gravity, with the angular velocity b, these
two motions compose a motion of every particle of the
body round a third axis, lying in the plane of the other
two, and inclined to each of the former axes in angles
whose sines are inversely as the angular velocities round
them; and the angular velocity round this new axis is
to that round one of the primitive axes as the sine of in¬
clination of the two primitive axes is to the sine of the
inclination of the new axis to the other primitive axis.
When we say that we owe the enunciation of this
theorem to P. Frisi, we grant at the same time that
something like it has been supposed or assumed by other
authors. Newton seems to have considered it as true,
and even evident, in homogeneous spheres; and this has
been taekly acquiesced in by the authors who followed
him in the problem of the precession. Inferior writers
have carelessly assumed it as a truth. Thus Nollet,
Gravesande, and others, in their contrivances for exhi¬
biting experiments for illustrating the composition of
vortlce*, proceeded on this assumption. Even authors
of more scrupulous research have satisfied themselves
with a very imperfect proof. Thus Mr Landen, in his
excellent dissertation on rotatory motion, Philosophical
Transactions, Vol. Ixvii. contents himself with show¬
ing, that by the equality an d opposite directions of the
motions round the axes A a and B b, the point C will
be at rest, and from thence concludes that CG c will be
the new axis of rotation. But this is exceedingly hasty
(note also, that this dissertation was many years poste¬
rior to that of P. Frisi): For although the separate
motions of the point C may be equal and opposite, it
is by no means either a mathematical or a mechanical
consequence that the body will turn round the axis C c.
In order that the point C may remain at rest, it is ne¬
cessary that all tendencies to motion be annihilated:
this is not even thought of in making the assumption.
Frxsi has shown, that in the motion of every particle
round the axis C c, there is involved a motion round the
two axes A a and B b, with the velocities a and 6 ; and
it is a consequence of this, and of this only, that the
impulses which would separately produce the rotations
of every particle round A a and B 6 will, either in suc¬
cession or in conjunction, produce a rotation round C c.
Moreover, Mr Landen’s not having attended to this,
has led him, as we imagine, into a mistake respecting
the velocity with which the axis changes its position;
and though his process exhibits the path of evagation
with accuracy, we apprehend that it does not assign the
true times tf the axes arriving at particular points of
this path.
It follows from this proposition, that if every par¬
ticle of a body, whether solid or fluid, receives in one
instant a separate impulse, competent to the production
of a motion of the particle round an axis * ith a cer-.
tain angular velocity, and another impulse competent Rotatii
ta the production of a motion round another axis with a
certain velocity, the combined effect of all these impul¬
sions will be a motion of the whole system round a third
axis given in position, with an angular velocity which
is also given: and this motion will obtain without any
separation or disunion of parts; for we see that a mo¬
tion round two axes constitutes a motion round a th'rd
axis in every particle, and no separation would take
place although the system were incoherent like a mass
of sand, except by the action of the centrifugal forces
arising from rotation. Mr Simpson therefore erred in
his aolution of the problem of the precession, by suppo¬
sing another force necessary for enabling the particles
of the fluid spheroid to accompany the equator when
displaced from its former situation. The very force
which makes the displacement produces the accompani¬
ment, as far as it obtains, which we shall see presently
is not to the extent that Mr Simpson and other authors
w ho treat this problem have supposed.
For the same reason, if a body be turning round any i;J
axis, and every particle in one instant get an impulse
precisely such as is competent to produce a given an¬
gular velocity round another axis, the body will turn
round a third axis given in position, with a given an¬
gular velocity: for it is indifferent (as it is in the or¬
dinary composition of motion) whether the forces act
on a particle at once or in succession, 'i he final mo¬
tion is the same both in respect of direction and velocity.
Lastly, when a rigid body acquires a rotation round
an axis by the action of an impulse on one part of it,
and at the same time, or afterw ards, gets an impulse on
any part which, alone, would have produced a certain
rotation round another axis, the effect of the combined
actions will be a rotation round a third axis, in terms of
this pi-oposition ; for when a rigid body acquires a mo¬
tion round an axis, not by the simultaneous impulse of
the precisely competent force on each particle, but by an
impulse on one part, there has been propagated to tvery
particle (by means of the connecting f orces) an impulse
precisely competent to produce the motion which the
particle really acquires; and when a rigid body, al¬
ready turning round an axis A a (fig. 17.), receives an
impulse which makes it actually turn round another
axis C c there has been propagated to each particle a force
precisely competent to produce, not the motion, but the
change of motion which takes place in that particle,
that is, a force which, when compounded with the in¬
herent force of its primitive motion, produces the new
motion; that is (by this theorem), a force wh ch alone
would have caused it to turn round a third axis B b,
with a rotation making the other constituent of the ac¬
tual rotation round C c.
This must be considered as one of the most important 1
propositions in dynamics, and gives a great extension to
the doctrine of the composition of motion. We see that
rotations are compounded in the same manner as other
motions, and it is extremely easy to discover the com¬
position. We have only to suppose a sphere described
round the centre of the body ; and the equator of this
sphere corresponding to any primitive positron of the
axis of rotation gives us the direciion and velocity of
the particles situated in it. Let another great circle
cut this equator in any point; it wrill be the equator
of another rotation. Set off an arch of each from the
point
Rotation.
m
125
126
especting
le position
’ the axis
: rotation.
H 0 T A
point of intersection, proportional to the angular velo¬
city of each rotation, and complete the spherical paral¬
lelogram. The great circle, which is the diagonal of
this parallelogram, will be the equator of the rotation,
which is actually compounded of the other two.
And thus may any two rotations be compounded.
We have given an instance of this in the solution of the
problem of the Precession of the Equinoxes.
It appears plainly in the demonstration of this theo¬
rem that the axis C c is a new line in the body. The
change of rotation is not accomplished by a t ransference
of the poles and equator of the former rotation to a
new situation, in which they are again the poles and
equator of the rotation; for we see that in the rota¬
tion round the axis C c, the particle of the body which
was formerly the pole A is describing a circle round the
axis C c. Not knowing this compodtion of rotations,
Newton, Walmesly, Simpson, and other celebrated ma¬
thematicians, imagined, that the axis of the earth’s rota¬
tion remained the same, but changed its pos:'tion. In
this they w ere confirmed by the constancy of the obser¬
ved latitudes of places on the surface of the earth. But
the axis of the earth’s rotation really changes its place,
and the poles shift through different points of its sur¬
face ; but these different points are too near each other
to make the change sensible to the nicest observation.
It would seem to result from these observations, that
it is impossible that the axis of rotation can change its
position in absolute space without changing its position
in the body, contrary to what we experience in a thou¬
sand familiar instances; and indeed this is impossible by
any one change. We cannot by the impuke ot any
one force make a body which is turning round the axis
A a change its position and turn round the same mate¬
rial axis brought into the position C c. In the same
way that a body must pass through a series of inter¬
mediate points, in going f- om one end of a line to the
other, so it must acquire an infinite series of interme¬
diate rotations (each of them momentary) before the
same material axis passes into another position, so as to
become an axis of rotation. A momentary impulse
may make a great change of the po-ition of the ax;s of
rotation, as it may make in the velocity of a rectilineal
motion. Thus although the rotation round A a be in¬
definitely small, if another equally small rotation be
impressed round an axis B b perpendicular to A a, the
axis will at once shift to C c half way between them ;
but a succession of rotations is necessary for carrying the
primitive material axis into a new position, where it is
again an axis. This transference, however, is possible,
but gradual, and must be accomplished by a continuation
of impulses totally different from what we would at first
suppose. In order that A may pass from A to C, it
is not enough that it gets an impulse in the direction
AC. Such an impulse would carry it thither, if the
body had not been whirling round A a by the mere
perseverance of matter in its state of motion ; but when
the body is already whirling round A a, the particles
in the circle IP * are moving in the circumference of
that circle; and since that circle also partakes of the
motion given to A, every particle in it must be incessant¬
ly deflected from the path in which it is moving. The
continual agency of a force is therefore necessary for this
purpose; and if this force be discontinued, the point
TICK.
sir
130
A will immediately quit the plane of the arch AC, along Rotation,
which we are endeavouring to move it, and will start up. t 1
This is the theorem which we formerly said would 127
enable us to overcome the difficulties in the investiga¬
tion of the axis of rotation.
Thus we can discover what Mr Landen calls the The eva-
evagations of the poles of rotation by the action of een- gations of
trifugal forces: For in fig. l6. the known velocity of the poles of
the ball A and the radius AC of its circle of rotation
wrill give us the centrifugal force by which the balls ofeentrifu-
tend to turn in the plane DArfBD. This gives the gai forces,
axis D d a tendency to move in a plane perpendicular
to the plane of the figure; and its separation T om the
poles D and d does not depend on the separation of the
connecting rod AB from its present inclination to D d,
but on the angle which the spiral path of the ball
makes with the plane of a circle of rotation round D d.
The distance of the new p >les from D and d is an arch
of a circle which measures the angle made by the spiral
with the circle of rotation round the primitive axis.
This will gradually increase, and the mathematical axis
of rotation w ill be describing a spiral round D and d,
gradually separating from these points, and again ap¬
proaching them, and coinciding with them again, at.
the time that the balls themselves are most of all remo¬
ved from their primitive situation, namely, when A is
in the place of B. jfp
The same theorem also enables us to find the inci- ami the in-
pient axis of rotation in the complicated cases which cipient axis
are almost inaccessible by means of the elementary prin- in
• J J r cated eases,
ciples ot rotation.
Thus, when the centres of oscillation and pe cussion
do not coincide, as we supposed in fig. 5. and 1'2. Sup¬
pose, first, that they do coincide, and find the position
of the axis a b, and the angular velocity of the rotation.
Then find the centre of percussion, the axis P p, and
the momentum round it, and the angul r velocity which
this momentum wrould produce. Thus we have obtain¬
ed two rotations round given axes, and with given an¬
gular velocities. Compound these rotations by this
theorem, and we obtain the required position of the
true incipient axis of rotation, and the angular velocity,
without the int icate process which would otherwise
have been necessary.
If the body is of such a shape, that the forces in the
plane DCG do not balance each other, we shall then
discover a momentum round an axis perpendicular to
this plane. Compound this rotation in the same man¬
ner with the rotation round D d.
And from this simple view of the matter we learn Position of
(what would be difficult to discover in the other way),tlie axis
that w'hen the centre of percussion does not coincide wl,en t!!e.
with that of rotation, the axis is in the plane Lk:C, p’erclHfi,otl
though not perpendicular to PG. But when there is and rota-
a momentum round an axis perpendicular to this plane, tion do not
the incipient axis of rotation is neither perpendicular to coincide.
PC, nor in a plane perpendicular to that passing through
the centre in the direction of the impelling force.
We must content ourselves with merely pointing out
these tracts of investigation to the curious reader, and
recommending the cultivation of this most fruitful
theorem of Father Frisi. 733
These are by no means speculations of mere curiosity, Concluding
interesting to none but mathematicians: the noblest art remark* on
which seamanship.
131
132
318
K 0 T A
Ilotntioft which is practised by man must receive great improve¬
ment from a complete knowledge of this subject. We
Bo ton do. mean the art of seamanship. A. ship, the most ad¬
mirable of machines, must be considered as a body in
free space, impelled by the winds and Waters, and con¬
tinually moved round spontaneous axes of conversion,
and incessantly checked in these movements. The trim¬
ming of the sails, the action of the rudder, the very dis¬
position of the loading, all affect her versatility. An
experienced seaman knows by habit how to produce and
facilitate these motions, and to check or stop such as
are inconvenient. Experience, without any reflection
or knowledge how and why, informs him what position
bf the rudder produces a deviation from the course. A
sort of common sense tells him, that, in order to make
the ship turn her head away from the wind, he must in¬
crease the surface or the obliquity of the head sails, and
diminish the power of the sails near* the stern. A few
other operations are dictated to him by this kind of
common sense; but few, even of old seamen, can tell
why a ship has such a tendency to bring her head up
in the wind, and why it is so necessary to crowd the
fore part of the ship with sails; fewer still know that a
certain shifting of the loading will facilitate some mo¬
tions in different cases; that the crew of a great ship
running suddenly to a particular place shall enable the
ship to accomplish a movement in a stormy sea which
could not be done otherwise ; and perhaps not one in
HOTHERAM, a town in the west riding of York¬
shire, seated on the river Don, near which there is a
handsome stone-bridge. It b a well-built place, and
the market is large for provisions. W. Lon^. 1. 10.
N, Lilt. 5fl. 25.
ROTHS AY, a town in the isle and county of Bute,
in Scotland. It is the capital of the county, is a well-
built town of small houses, con l ains above 5000ii.habi-
tant'-’j and is within these few years much improved.
It has a goad pier, and is seated at the bottom of a fine
bay, whose mouth lies exactly opposite to Loch Steven
in Cowal. Here is a fine depth of water, a secure re¬
treat, and a ready navigation down the frith for an ex¬
port trade. Magazines of goods for foreign parts might
be most advantageously erected here. The spinning of
37arn has been long carried on in Rothsay, and lately the
cotton manufacture has been introduced. The herring
fishery has been also long a great source of trade in this
place. W. Long. 4. 45. N. Lat. 55. 50.
Rothsay gives to the prince of Scotland the title of
Duke, which was formerly accompanied with suitable
revenues, powers, and privileges. It was bestowed on
the prince in 1398, when John of Gaunt, who is styled
John Duke of Aquitaine and Lancaste -, uncle to the
king of England, and David, who was previously styled
t ari of Garrick, eldest son of the king of'Scotland, met
tor the purpose of settling the borders, and terminating
ad matters in dispute. In this way it is supposed the
title of Duke was introduced into Scotland.
RO F I B0ELL1A, a genus of plants belonging to
the triandria class. See Botanv Judex.
ROIOInDO, or Rotundo, in Architecture, an ap¬
t i o isr.
ten thousand can tell why this procedure will be success- kotb
ful. But the mathematical inquirer will see all this ; || 1
and it would be a most valuable acquisition to the pub- Rotteril|
lie, to have a manual of such propositions, deduced from
a careful and judicious consideration of the circumstan¬
ces, and freed from that great complication and intri¬
cacy which only the learned can unravel, and expressed
in a familiar manner, clothed with such reasoning as
will be intelligible to the unlearned; and though not
accurate, yet persuasive. Mr Bouguer, in his Traite du
Navire, and in his Manoeuvre des Vaisseaux, has deliver¬
ed a great deal of useful information on this subject;
and Mr Bezout has made a very useful abstract of these
works in his Cours de Maihetnatique. But the subject
is left by them in a form far too abstruse to be of any
general u«e: and it is unfortunately so combined with
or founded on a false theory of the action and resist¬
ance of fluids, that many of the propositions are totally
inconsistent with experience, ami many maxims of sea¬
manship are false. This has occasioned these doctrines
to be neglected altogether. Few of our professional sea¬
men have the preparatory knowledge necessary for im¬
proving the science; but it would be a work of immense
utility, and would require great reputation to the per¬
son who successfully prosecutes it.
We shall mention under the article Seamanship the
chief problems, and point out the mechanical principles
by which they may be solved.
pellation given to any building that is round both with¬
in and without; whether it be a church, a saloon, or
the like. The most celebrated rotundo of the ancients
is the pantheon at Rome. See Pantheon.
ROTTFN-stone, a mineral found in Derbyshire,
and used by mechanics for all sorts of finer grinding and
polishing, and sometimes for cutting stones. According
to Ferber, it is a tripoli mixed with calcareous earth.
ROTTENNESS. See Putrefaction.
ROTTERDAM, is a city in the province of Holland,
in E. Long. 4. 25. N. Lat. 51. 55. situated on the
north bank of the river Matse, -about 37 miles south of
Amsterdam, nine south-east of the Hague, and 15 to the
eastward of Briel. It is a large and populous city, of a
triangular figure, handsomely built of brick, the streets
Wide and well paved. There are ten gates to the town,
six of which are at the land side and four at the side of
the Maese. It is supposed to take its name from the
Hoter, or Hotter, a little river that falls into the canal*
of this city, and from Dam, a dike. It is uncertain
when it was first built; and though it is supposed to be
very ancient, yet we find no mention made of it before
the 13th century.. In the year 1270 it wras surrounded
with ramparts, and honoured with several privileges;
but 27 years after it was taken by the Flemings. In
the year 1418, Brederode chief of the Hacks made him¬
self master of it; since w hich time it has continued
yearly to increase by means of the conveniency of its
harbour. Its arms are vert, a pale argent, quarterly in
a chief on the first and third, or, a lion spotted sable,
on the second and fourth a lion spotted gules.
Rotterdam is not reckoned one of the principal ci¬
ties
HOT [ 319 ] EOT
Hi ri^m' tie* of the province, because it has not been always in
w its present flourishing condition. The Dutch call it
the first of the second rank, whereas it ought to be
esteemed the second of the first, being, next to Amster¬
dam, the most trading town in the United Provinces.
Its port is very commodious; for the canals, which run
through most parts of the town, bring the ships, some
of 200 or 300 tons, up to the merchant’s door; a con-
veniency for loading and unloading which is not to be
found in other places. The great ships go up into the
middle of the town by the canal into which the Maese
enters by the old head, as it conies out by the new.
A stranger, upon his first entering this place, is asto¬
nished at the beautiful confusion of chimneys intermix¬
ed with tops of trees with which the canals are planted,
and streamers of vessels ; insomuch that he can hardly
tell whether it be fleet, city, or forest. The Hairing
Vliet is a very fine street; most of the houses are new,
7 am's and built of hewn stone ; but the grandest as well as
5 most agreeable street in Rotterdam is the Bomb Quay,
‘ !£h which lies parallel with the Maese; on one side it is
j ’ open to the river, and the other is ornamented with a
grand facade of the best houses in the city, inhabited
chiefly by the English ; they are five or six stories high,
massy and very clumsy : wherever there is any attempt
at ornament, it is the worst that can be conceived.
One sees no Grecian architecture, except Doric enta¬
blatures, stuck upon the top of the upper story, with¬
out pilasters; Ionic volutes, turned often the wrong
way, and an attempt at Corinthian capitals, without
any other part of the order. The doors are large, and
stuck with great knobs and clumsy carving; you ascend
to them, not in front, but by three or four steps going
up on each side, and you are assisted by iron rails of a
most immense thickness. These houses are almost all
w indow; and the window shutters and frames being
painted green, the glass has all a green cast, which is
helped by the reflection from the trees that overshadow
their houses, which, were it not for this circumstance,
would be intolerably hot, from their vicinity to the ca¬
nals. Most of the houses have looking ghsses placed
on the outsides of the w indows, on both sides, in order
that they may see every thing which passes up and
down the street. The stair-cases are narrow, steep, and
come dpwn almost to the door. In general, the houses
rise with enormous steep roofs, turning the gable end
to the str eet, and leaning considerably forward, so that
the top often projects near two feet beyond the per¬
pendicular. The Bomb Quay is so broad, that there
are distinct w alks for carriages and foot passengers, li¬
ned and shaded w ith a double row of trees.—You look
over the river on some beautiful meadows, and a fine
avenue of trees, which leads to the Pest-house: it seems
to be an elegant building, and the trees round it are so
disposed as to appear a thick wood. This street is at,
least half a mile in length, and extends from the old to
the new head, the two places whex-e the water enters to
fill the canals of this extensive city. When wrater runs
through a street, it then assumes the name of a canal,
of which kind the Heeren-fleet has the pre-eminence ;
the houses are of free-stone, and vex*y lofty ; the canal
is spacious, and covered with ships : at one end stands
the English church, a neat pretty building, of which
the bishop of London is ordinary.
This port is much more frequented by the British
merchants than Amsterdam, irisomuch that after a frost, Rotterdam,
when the sea is open, sometimes 300 sail of British ves- w-
sels sail out of the harbour at once. There is always a
large number of British subjects who x’eside in this
town, and live much in the same manner as in Gi’eat
Britain. The reason of the gi’eat traffic between this
place and England, is because the ships can generally
load and unload, and return to England from Rottei’-
dam, before a ship can get clear from Amsterdam
and the Texel. Hence the English inerchants find it
cheaper and more commodious, after their goods are ar¬
rived at Rottex’dam, to send them in boats over the
canals to Amsterdam, Another great advantage they
have here for commerce is, that the Maese is open, and
the passage free from ice, much sooner in the spring
than in the Y and Zuyder-sea, which had to Amster¬
dam.
The glass-house here is one of the best in the seven
provinces ; it makes abundance of glass-toys and ena¬
melled bowls, which are sent to India, and exchanged
for china-ware, and other oriental commodities.
The college of admiralty here is called the college of
the Maese, the chief of all Holland and the United
Provinces. The lieutenant-general, admiral of Hol¬
land, is obliged to go on board of a Rottex-dam ship in
the Maese when he goes to sea, and then he commands
the squadron of the Maese.
On the east side of the city there is a lai’ge bason and
dock, where ship-carpenters are continually emplo ed.
for the u e of the admiralty, or of the East India com¬
pany. But the largest shies belonging to the admiralty
of Rotterdam are kept at Helvoetsluys, as the most com¬
modious station that place being situated on the ocean;
for it requires both time and trouble to work a large
ship from the dock of Rotterdam to the sea.
Rotterdam has four Dutch chxxrches for the esta¬
blished religion. There is one thing very remarkable
in respect to the great church, that the tow er which
leaned on one side was set up straight in the year I do 5,
as appears by the inscription engraved on bi’ass at the
bottom of the tower withinside. In the choir of this
church are celebx-ated, with no small solemnity, the pro¬
motions made in the Latin schools Besides, there are
two English churches, one for those of the church of
England and the other for the Presbyterians ; and one
Scotch church ; as likewise one Lutheran, two Arrni-
nian, two Anabaptist, four Roman Catholic chapels,
and one Jewish synagogue.
Though the public bxxildings here are not so stately
as those of Amsterdam and t ome other cities, yet there
are several of them well worth se- ing. The great
church of St Lawrence is a good old building, whei’e
are many stately monuments of them old admirals.
From the top of this church one may see the Hague,.
Delft, Leydexi, Dort, and most of the towns of South
Holland. Thex*e are sevei’al fine mai’ket-places, as three
fish-markets, the great-market, the pew-market, and the
hogs-market. The stadthouse is an old building, but
the chambers large and finely adorned. The maga¬
zines for fitting out their ships ax-e very good structures.
The exchange is a noble building, begun in the year
1720, and finished in 1735. Upon the great bridge
in the market-place thei’e is a fine bi’ass statue erected
to the great Erasmus, who wras born in this city in
1467, and died at Basil in Switzerland. He is repre¬
sented
It o v
Rotterdam seiitcd in a furred gown, and a round op, with a book
II in his band. The statue is on a pedestal of marble,
Rovere. surrounded with rails of iron. Ju-t by, one may see
the house where this great man wag born, which is a
very small one, and has the following distich written
«n the door:
JEdibits his ortus, vmndum dtcoravit, Erasmus,
Artibus, ingenio, rdigione,Jide.
Rotterdam is estimated to contain about 50,000 in¬
habitants.
ROTULA, in Anatomy, the small bone of the knee,
called also patella. See Anatomy.
ROTUNDUS, in Anatomy, a name given to several
muscles otherwise called teres.
ROUAD. See Aradus.
ROUANE, or Roane, an ancient and considerable
town in France, in the department of Loire, with’ the
title of a duchy; seated on the river Loire, at the place
where it begins to be navigable for boats. It is an en¬
trepot for the commerce between Lyons, Paris, Orleans,
&c. E. Long. 4. N. Lat. 46 2.
ROUCOU, in Dyeing, the same with Anotta and
•Bixa. See Dyeing.
ROUEN, a city of France, and capital of the de¬
partment of the Lower Seine formerly capital of Nor¬
mandy, with an archbishop’s see, a college, and an aca¬
demy. It is seven miles in circumference, and surround¬
ed with six suburbs ; and contained before the revolu¬
tion 35 parishes, and 24 convents for men and women.
The metropolitan church has a very handsome front,
on which are two lofty steeples. The great bell is 13
feet hisjh and 11 hi diameter. The church of the Be¬
nedictine abbey is much admired by travellers. There
is a great number of fountains. The number of the in¬
habitants in 1817 was'81,000. This is one of the most
industrious towns in France. There are manufactures
of cotton and woollen of a great variety of kinds, and
•some on an extensive scale. There are also manufac¬
tures of silk, wrool cards, refined sugar, and chemical
substances. It is seated on the river Seine ; and the tide
ri es so high, that vessels of 200 tons may come up to
the qua)r: but one of the greatest curiosities is the
bridge, of 270 paces in length, supported by boats, and
consequently is higher or lower according to the tide.
It is paved, and there are ways for foot passengers on
each side, with benches to sit upon ; and coaches may
pass over it at any hour of the day or night. It is
el ten called Roan by English historians; and is 50 miles
south-west of Amiens, and 70 north-west of Paris.
Though large, and enriched by commerce, Rouen is
not an elegant place. The streets are almost all narrow,
crooked, and dirty; the buildings old and irregular. It
was fortified by St Louis in 1253, but the w'alls a’ e now
demolished. The environs, more particularly the hills
which overlook the Seine, are wonderfully agreeable,
and covered with handsome villas. E. Long. 1. 10.
N Lat. 49. 26.
ROVERE, or Roverido, a strong town of the
Tyrol, on the confines of the republic ot Venice ; seat¬
ed on the river Adige, at the foot of a mountain, and
on the s.de of a stream, over which there is a bridge, de¬
fended by two large towers and a stri ng castle, 10. miles
south of Trent. The town is tolerably well bui t, and
BOV
governed by a chief magistrate, styled & podestat. There Horen
are several churches and convents, that contain nothing ||
worthy of notice. The most remarkable thing, and n°un,!
what they call the great wonder of Roveredo, is its ,H^msi
spinning-house for a manufacture of silk, in which they
have a great trade here to the fairs of Bolzano. They
have also a very good trade in wine. Between Trent
and Roveredo is the strong fort of Belem, belonging to
the house of Austria. It is situated on a rock, and com¬
mands the roads at the foot of the mountain. E. Long.
11. 3. N. Lat. 45. 53.
ROUERGUE, a province of France, in the go¬
vernment of Guienne ; bounded on the east by the Ce-
vennes and Gevaudan, on the west by Querci, on the
north by the same and Auvergne, and on the south by
Languedoc. It is 75 miles in length, and 50 in breadth;
not very fertile, but feeds a number of cattle, and has
mines of copper, iron, alum, vitriol, and sulphur. It
is divided into a county, and the upper and lower
marcbe. It now forms the department of Aveiron.
Rhodez is the capital town.
ROVIGNO, a town of Italy, in Istria, with two
good harbours, and quarries of fine stone. It is seated
in a territory which produces excellent wine, in a pen¬
insula on the western coast. The population is estima¬
ted at 17,000. E. Long. 13. 53. N. Lat. .45. 14.
ROV1GO, is a town of Italy, in the territory of
Venice, and capital of the Polesin di Rovigo, in E.
Long. 12. 25. N. Lat. 45. 6. It is a small place,
poorly inhabited, and encompassed with ruinous walls.
Formerly it belonged to the duke of Ferrara, but has
been subject to the Venetians since ] 500, and is famous
for being the birth-place of that learned man CoeHus
Rhodoginus. It was built upon the ruins of Adria,
anciently a noble harbour one mile from Rovigo, that
gave name to the gulf, but now a half drowned village,
inhabited by a few fishermen.
ROUNDELAY, or Roundo, a sort of ancient
poem, deriving its name, according to Menage, from
its form, and because it still turns back again to the first
verse, and thus goes round. The common roundelay
consists of 13 verses, eight of which are in one rhyme
and five in another. It is divided into couplets ; at the
end of the second and third of which the beginning ot
the roundelay is repeated; and that, if possible, in an
equivocal or punning sense. The roundelay is a popu¬
lar poem in France, but is little known among us. Ma-
rot and Voiture have succeeded the best in it. Rapin
remarks, that if the roundelay lie not very exquisite, it
is intolerably bad. In all the ancient ones. Menage
observes, that the verse preceding has a less complete
sense, and yet joins agreeably with that of the clo'e
without depending necessarily thereon. This rule, well
observed, makes the roundelay more ingenious, and is
one of the finesses of the poem. Some of the ancient
w riters sjieak of the roundelay or roundel as a kind of
air appropriated to dancing; and in this sense the term
seems to indica'e little more than dancing in a circle
wdth the hands joined.
ROUND-House, a kind of prison for the nightly
watch in London to secure disorderly persons till they
can be carried before a magistrate.
Round-House, in a ship, the uppermost room or cabin
on the stern of a ship, w here the master lies.
ROUNDS,
[ 320 ]
ft 0 U [ 321 ] R 0 U
louml?, ROUNDS, in military matters, a detachment frcm
ussillon. t]ie ma;n.guard, of an officer or a non-commissioned of-
ficer and six men, who go round the rampart of a garri¬
son, to listen if any thing be stirring without the place,
and to see that the centinels be diligent upon their duty,
and all in order. In strict garrisons the rounds go every
half-hour. The ccntinels are to challenge at a distance,
and to rest their arms as the round passes. All guards
turn out, challenge, exchange tlie parole, and rest their
arms, &c.
Rounds are ordinary and extraordinary. The ordi¬
nary rounds are three; the town-major’s round, the
grand-round, and visiting-round.
Manner of going the Rounds. When the town-ma¬
jor goes his round, he comes to the main-guard, and de¬
mands a serjeant and four or six men to escort him to
the next guard; and when it is dark, one of the men
is to carry a light.
As soon as the centry at the guard perceives the
round coming, he shall give notice to the guard, that
they may be ready to tuVn out when ordered; and
when the round is advanced within about 20 or SO pa¬
ces of the guard, he is to challenge briskly ; and when
he is answered by the serjeant who attends the round,
Town-major s round, he is to say, Stand round! and
rest his arms ; after which he is to call out immediate¬
ly, Serjeant, turn out the guard, town-major’s round.
Upon the centry calling, the serjeant is to turn out the
guard immediately, drawing up the men in good or¬
der with shouldered arms, the officer placing himself
at the head of it, with his arms in his hand. He
then orders the serjeant and four or six men to advance
towards the round, and challenge : the serjeant of the
round is to answer, ’Town-major s round; upon which
the serjeant of the guard replies, Advance, serjeant,
with the parole ! at the same time ordering his men to
rest their arms. The serjeant of the round advances
alone, and gives the serjeant of the guard the pa¬
role in his ear, that none else may hear it; during
which period the serjeant of the guard holds the spear
of his halbert at the other’s breast. The serjeant of
the round then returns to his post, whilst the serjeant
of the guard leaving his men to keep the round from
advancing, gives the parole to his officer. This being
found right, the officer orders his serjeant to return to
his men; says. Advance, town-major s round ! and or¬
ders the guard to rest their arms ; upon which the ser¬
jeant of the guard orders his men to wheel back from
the centre, and form a lane, through which the town-
major is to pass (the escort remaining where they v/ere),
and go up to the officer and give him the parole, laying
his mouth to his ear. The officer holds the spear of his
esponton at the town-major’s breast while he gives him
the parole.
The design of rounds is not only to visit the guards,
and keep the centinels alert; but likewise to discover
what passes in the outworks, and beyond them.
ROUSSILLON, a province of France, in the Py¬
renees, bounded on the east by the Mediterranean sea,
on the west by Cerdagne, on the north by Lower
Languedoc, and on the south by Catalonia, from which
it is separated by the Pyrenees. It is a fertile country,
about 50 mdes in length, and 25 in breadth, and re¬
markable for its great number of olive-trees. Now the
department of Eastern Pyrenees.
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
ROUSSEAU, James, an eminent painter, was born
at Paris in the year 1630, and studied fisst under Swa-
nevelt,who had married one of his relations; after which
he improved himself by travelling into Italy, practising
solely in perspective, architecture, and landscape. On
his return home, he w’as employed at Marly. He di-
stinguishedhimself verymuch in paintingbuildings,ancl
by his knowledge of^ and attention to the principles of
perspective. Louis XIV. employed him to decorate
his hall of devices at St Germaine-en-Laie, where he
represented the operas of Lulli. But being a Prote¬
stant, he quitted France on the persecution of his bre¬
thren, and retired to Swisserland. Louis invited him
back ; he refused, but sent his designs, and recommend¬
ed a proper person to execute them. After a short stay
in Swisserland, he went to Holland; whence he was
invited to England by Ralph duke of Montague, to
adorn his new house in Bloomsbury, where he painted
much. Some of his pictures, both in landscape and
architecture, are over doors at Hamptoncourt; and he
etched some of his owrn designs. His perspectives ha¬
ving been most commonly applied to decorate courts or
gardens, have suffered much from the wreather. Such
of them as remain are monuments of an excellent ge¬
nius. The colours are durable and bright, and the
choice of them most judicious. He died in Soho-square,
about the year 1693, aged 63.
Rousseau, John Baptist, a celebrated French poet,
was bom at Paris, in April 1671. His father, who
was a shoemaker in good circumstances, made him
study in the best colleges of Paris, where he distinguish¬
ed himself by his abilities. He at length applied him¬
self entirely to poetry, and soon made himself known
by several short pieces, that were filled with lively and
agreeable images, which made him sought for by per¬
sons of the first rank, and men of the brightest genius.
He was admitted in quality of elevc, or pupil, into the
academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres, in 1701,
and almost all the rest of his life attached himself
to some great men. He attended Marshal Tallard
into England, in quality of secretary, and here con¬
tracted a friendship with St Evremond. At his return
to Paris, he was admitted into the politest company,
lived among the courtiers, and seemed perfectly satis¬
fied with his situation ; when, in 1708, he was prose¬
cuted for being the author of some couplets, in which
the characters of several persons of wit and merit were
blackened by the most atrocious calumnies. This pro¬
secution made much noise ; and Rousseau was banished
in 1712 out of the kingdom, to which he was never
more to return, by a decree of the parliament of Paris.
However, he always steadily denied, and even on his
death-bed, his being the author of these couplets.—
From the date of this sentence he lived in foreign coun¬
tries, where he found illustrious protectors. '1 he count
de Luc, ambassador of France, in Swisserland, took
him into his family, and studied to render his life agree¬
able. He took him with him to the treaty of Baden in
1714, where he was one of the plenipotentiaries, and
presented him to Prince Eugene, who entertaining a
particular esteem for him, took him to Vienna, and in¬
troduced him to the emperor's court. Rousseau lived
about three years with Prince Eugene ; but having lost
his favour by satirising one of his mistresses, he retired to
Brussels, where he afterwards usually resided, and where
t S s he
R 0 •
v v—'
Housseau.
ft 0 U [ 322 ] ft O IT
lie met with much attention and much generosity, as Are
shall soon mention.—It was there that his disputes with
Voltaire commenced, with whom he had become ac¬
quainted at the college of Louis the Great, Avho then
much admired his turn for poetry. At that time Vol¬
taire assiduously cultivated theacquaintanceof Rousseau,
and made him a present of all his Avorks; and Rous¬
seau, flattered by his respect, announced him as a man
Avho would one day be a glory to the age. The author
of the Henriade continued to consult him about his pro¬
ductions, and to lavish on him the highest encomiums,
Avhile their friendship daily increased. When they again
met at Brussels, however, they harboured the blackest
malice against one another. The cause of this enmity,
as Rousseau and his friends tell the story, Avas a lecture
which he had composed from his Epistle to Julia, noAv
Urania. This piece frightened Voltaire, as it plainly
discovered his rage against him. The young man, vex¬
ed at these calumnies, understood the whole as throw n
out against him. This is what Rousseau asserts. But
his adversaries, and the friends of the poet Avhom he
cried down suspected him. perhaps rather rashly, of
having employed sarcasms, because he thought that his
own reputation was in danger of being eclipsed by that
of his rival. What is very singular, these two cele¬
brated characters endeavoured each of them to prepossess
the public with a b-wl opinion of the other, w hich they
themselves never entertained in reality, and to smother
in their breast that esteem for each other which, in de¬
fiance of all their exertions, still held its place. Rous¬
seau, from the period of this dispute, Iways repre¬
sented Voltaire as a buffoon, as a Avriter possessing nei¬
ther taste nor judgment, who owed all his success to a
particular mode which he pursued. Asa poet he consi¬
dered him as inferior to Lucan, and little superior to
Pradon. Voltaire treated him still worse. Rousseau, ac¬
cording to him, Avas nothing better than a plagiarist,
who could make shift to rhime, but could not make
any reflections ; that he had nothing but the talent of
arranging Avords, and that he had even lost that in fo¬
reign countries. He thus addresses him, in a piece lit¬
tle known.
Aussitot le Dicu qui m’inspire
T’arrachu le lath et la lyre
Qu’avoient deshonores tes mains ;
Tu ties plus qu’un reptile immonde,
Debut du Parnasse et du monde
Enseveli dans tes vetiins.
In consequence of the little esteem in which Rousseau
was held at Brussels, he could never forget Paris. The
grand-prior of Vendome, and the baron de Breteuil,
solicited the regent duke of Orleans to allow him to
return ; which favour was obtained. But our poet, be¬
fore he would make use of the lettres de rapti issued in
his favour, demanded a review of his process, which he
Avished to be repealed, not as a matter of favour, but
by a solemn judgment of court; but his petition was re¬
fused. Lie then came over, in ] 721, to England, where
he prin-ted A Collection of his Works, in 2 vols. 12mo,
at London. This edition, published in 1723, brought
him near 10,000 croAvns, the whole of which he placed
in the hands of the Ostend company. The affairs of
this company, however, soon getting into confusion, all
those Avho had any money in their hands lost the Avhole
of it, by which unfortunate event Rousseau, when ar- Rousseau,
rived at that age when he stood most in need of the
comforts of fortune, had nothing to depend upon but
the generosity of some friends. Eoutet, public notary
in Paris, was peculiarly generous and attentive to him.
He found a till greater asylum in the duke d’Arem-
berg. whose table w^as open to him at all times ; Avho be¬
ing obliged in 1733 to go into the army in Germany,
settled on him a pension of 1 300 livres. But unfortu¬
nately he soon lost his good opinion, having been im¬
prudent enough to publish in a journal (of Avhieh Vol¬
taire accused him), that the duke d’Aremberg was the
author of those verses for which he himself had been
banished France. He w as therefore dismissed from his
table, nd his pride wmuld not allow him to accept of
the pension after this rupture. Brussels now became
insupportable to him; and the count de Luc, and M.
de Senozan, receiver-general of the church revenue,
being informed of his disappointments, invited him to
come privately to Paris, in the hopes of procuring a
diminution of the period of his banishment. Some
time previous to this Rousseau had published two new
letters; one to P. Brumoy, on tragedy ; the other to
Rollin, on history. It is said, he espeeted from his
letter to Brumoy to get the favour of all the Jesuits ;
and from the one to Rollin, the patronage of the Jan-
senists. He had likewise Avritten an Ode, in praise of
Cardinal de Fleury, on Peace, which met Avith a fa¬
vourable reception, although it Avas not equal to some
of his former pieces. He imagined his return to Paris
would be found no difficult matter. Lie attempted it,
and found he could not obtain a pass for a single year.
Some say, that Rousseau had irritated some persons in
power, by an allegory, called The Judgment of Pluto ;
in which piece he describes one of the principal judges,
whose skin Pluto had caused to be taken off and stretch¬
ed out on the seat in the bench. This satire, joined
to the secret machinations of enemies, rendered all the
attempts of his friends to procure his return aborti\Te.
After having staid three months at Paris, he returned
to Brussels in February 1740, at which place he died
March 17. 1741, strongly impressed with religious sen¬
timents. Immediately before he receded the viaticum,
he protested he Avas not the author of those horrid verses
Avhich had so much embittered his life ; and this decla¬
ration, in the opinion of the virtuous part of mankind,
Avill be considered as a sufficient proof of his innocence.
Some have said that Rousseau Avas profane, troublesome,
capricious, forward, vindictive, envious, a flatterer, and
a satirist. Others again represent him as a man full of
candour and openness, a faithful and grateful friend,
and as a Christian affected Avith a sense of religion.—
Amidst such widely varied accounts it is difficult to
form an opinion of his character. Such of our readers
as wish to knoAv more of this great poet may consult
the Dictionary of M. Chaupepie, Avritten with as much
precision as impartiality, w ho endeavours to give a just
idea of his character. From Avhat he says, it does not
appear that Rousseau can be cleared from the accusa¬
tion brought against him of having attacked his bene¬
factors. We believe he may be much more easily freed
from the imputation brought against him by some of ha¬
ving disoAvned his father : for what occasion bad Rous¬
seau to conceal the obscurity of his birth ? It exalted
his own merit
M. Seguy',
I!
j !3«iaa.
' 'f"*1
11 o U [ 323 ] II o U
M. Segay, m concert with M. the prince of la
Tour Tassis, lias given a very beautiful edition of his
works, agreeable to the poet’s last corrections. It was
published in 174-3, at Paris, in three vols 4to, and in 4
vols. 1 :?mo, containing nothing but what was acknow¬
ledged by the author as his own. It contains, 1. Four
Books of Odes, of which the first are sacred odes, ta¬
ken from the Psalms. “ Rousseau (says Ferron) unites
in himself Pindar, Horace, Anacreon, and Malherbe.
"What fire, what genius, what flights of imagination,
what rapidity of description, what variety of affecting
strokes, what a crowd of brilliant comparisons, what
ric hness of rhymes, what happy versification; but espe¬
cially what inimitable expression ! His verses are finish¬
ed in the highest style of perfection that French verse is
capable of assuming.” The lyric compositions of Rous¬
seau are, in general, above mediocrity. All his odes
are not, however, of equal merit. The most beautiful
are those which he has addressed to count de Luc, to
Malherbe, to Prince Eugene, to Vendome, to the Chri¬
stian princes ; his Odes on the death of the prince de
Conti, on the battle of Petenvaradin ; and the Ode to
Fortune, although there are certainly some few weak
stanzas to be met with in it. There is considerable
neatness in the composition of the Ode to a Widow, in
his stanzas to the Abbe de Chaulieu, in his addresses to
Rossignol, in his Odes to Count de Bonneval, to M.
Duche, and to Count de Sinzindorf; and it is to be la-
mented that he wrote so few pieces of this kind, from
which his genius seemed to lead him with difficulty. 2.
Two Books of Epistles, in verse. Although these do
not want their beauties, yet there prevails too much of
a misanthropic spirit in them, w hich takes away greatly
from their excellence. He makes too frequent mention
of his enemies and his misfortunes; he displays those
principles which are supported less on the basis of truth
than on those various passions which ruled his mind at
the time. He puts forth his anger in paradoxes. If
he be reckoned equal to Horace in his odes, he is far in¬
ferior in his epistles. There is much more philosophy
in the Roman poet than in him. 3. Cantatas. He is
the father of this species of poetry, in which he stands
unrivalled. His pieces of this sort breathe that poetical
expression, that picturesque style, those happy turns,and
those easy graces, which constitute the true character of
this kind of writing. He is as lively and impetuous as
he is mild andaffecting, adapting himself to the passions
of those persons whom he makes to speak. “ I confess
(says M. de la Harpe) that I find the cantatas of Rous¬
seau more purely lyric than his odes, although he rises
to greater heights in these. I see nothing in his canta¬
tas but bold and agreeable images. He always addresses
himself to the imagination, and he never becomes ei¬
ther too verbose or too prolix. On the contrary, in
some of the best of his odes, vre find some languishing
stanzas, ideas too long delayed, and verses of inexcusa¬
ble meanness. 4. Allegories, the most of which are
haPpv, but some of them appear forced. 5. Epigrams,
after the manner of Martial and Marot. He has taken
care to leave out of this edition those pieces which li¬
centiousness and debauchery inspired. They bear, in¬
deed, as well as his other pieces, the marks of genius;
but such productions are calculated only to dishonour
their authors, and corrupt the heart of those who read
them. 5. A Book of Poems on Various Subjects,
which sometimes want both ease and delicacy. The
most distinguished are two eclogues, imitated from Vir¬
gil. 6. Four comedies in verse; the Flatterer, whose
character is well supported; the Imaginary Forefathers,
a piece which had much less success, although it affords
sufficiently good sentiment; the Capricious Man, and
the Dupe of Herself, pieces of very inconsiderable merit,
7. Th ree comedies in prose; the Coffee-house, the Ma¬
gic Girdle, and the Madragore, which arc little better
than his other theatrical pieces. The theatre was by
no means his forte; he had a genius more suited for
satire than comedy, more akin to Soileau’s than Mo-
liere’s. S. A Collection of Fellers, in prose. In this
edition he has selected the most interesting.—There is
a larger collection in 5 volumes. This last has done
at the same time both injury and honour to his memory.
Rousseau in it speaks both in favour of and against the
very same persons. He appears too hasty in tearing to
pieces the characters of those who displease him. We
behold in them a man of a steady character and an ele¬
vated mind, w ho wishes to return to his native country
only that he might be enabled completely to justify his
reputation. We see him again corresponding with per¬
sons of great merit and uncommon integrity, with the
Abbe d’Olivet, Racine the son, the poets La Fosse and
Duche, the celebrated Rollin, M. le Franc de Pompig-
nan, &c. &c. We meet also with some anecdotes and
exact judgments of several writers. A bookseller in
Holland has published his port-folio, which does him no
honour. There are, indeed, some pieces in this wretch¬
ed collection Vhich did come from the pen of Rousseau;
but he is less to be blamed for them than they are who
have drawm these works from that oblivion to which our
great poet had consigned them. A pretty good edition
of his Select Pieces appeared at Paris in 1741, in a small
12mo volume. His portrait, engraved by the celebra¬
ted Aved, his old friend, made its appearance in 1778,
with the following motto from Martial :
Certior in nostro carmine vultus erit.
Rousseau, John-James, was bom at Geneva, June'
28. 1712. His father was by profession a clock and
watch maker. At his birth, which, he says, was the
first of his misfortunes, he endangered the life of his
mother, and he himself was for a long time after in a
very weak and languishing state of health; but as his
bodily strength increased, his mental powers gradually
opened, and afforded the happiest presages of future
greatness. His father, who was a citizen of Geneva,
was a well-informed tradesman; and in the place where
he wrought he kept a Plutarch and a Tacitus, and
these authors of course soon became familiar to his
son. A rash juvenile step occasioned his leaving his
father’s house. “ Finding himself a fugitive, in a
strange country, and without money or friends, he
changed (says he himself) his religion, in order to
procure a subsistence." Bornex, bishop of Anneci,
from whom he sought an asylum, committed the care
of his education to Madame de Warrens, an ingenious
and amiable lady, >vho had in 1726 left part of her
wealth, and the Protestant religion, in order to throw
herself* into the bosom of the church. This generous
lady served in the triple capacity of a mother, a friend,
and a lover, to the new proselyte, whom she regarded
as her son. The necessity of procuring for himself
Roiuseaa.
It O U [ 324 ] It 0 U
Rousseau, some settlement, however, or perhaps his unsettled dis-
position, obliged Rousseau often to leave this tender
mother.
He possessed more than ordinary talents for music;
and the abbe Blanchard flattered his hopes with a
place in the royal chapel, which he, however, failed
in obtaining for him; he was therefore under the ne¬
cessity of teaching music at Chamberi. He remained
in this place till 174.1, in which year he went to Paris,
where he was long in very destitute circumstances.
Writing to a friend in 1743, he thus expresses himself :
“ Every thing is dear here, but especially bread.”
What an expression ; and to what may not genius be
reduced! Meanwhile he now began to emerge from
that obscurity in which he had hitherto been buried.
His friends placed him with M. de Montaigne, ambassa¬
dor from France to Venice* According to his own
confession, a proud misanthropy and a peculiar contempt
of the riches and pleasures of this world, constituted the
chief traits in his character, and a misunderstanding soon
took place between him and the ambassador. The place
of depute, under M. Dupin, farmer-general, a man of
considerable parts, gave him some temporary relief, and
enabled him to be of some benefit to Madame de War¬
rens his former benefactress. The year 1750 was the
commencement of his literary career. The academy of
Dijon had proposed the following question : “ Whether
the revival of the arts and sciences has contributed to
the refinement of manners ?” Rousseau at first inclined
to support the affirmative. “ This is the pons asinorum
(says a philosopher, at that time a friend of his), take
the negative side of the question, and I’ll promise you
the greatest success.”
His discourse against the sciences, accordingly, ha¬
ving been found to be the best written, and replete
with the deepest reasoning, was publicly crowned with
the approbation of that learned body. Never was a
paradox supported with more eloquence: it was not
however a newr one; but he enriched it with all the
advantages which either knowledge or genius could
confer on it. Immediately after its appearance, he
met with several opponents of his tenets, which he de¬
fended ; and from one dispute to another, he found
himself involved in aformidable train of correspondence,
without having ever almost dreamed of such opposition.
From that period he decreased in happiness as he increa¬
sed in celebrity. His “ Discourse on the Causes of In¬
equality among Mankind, and on the Origin of Social
Compacts,” a work full of almost unintelligible maxims
and wild ideas, wras written with a view to prove that
mankind are equal; that they were bom to live apart
from each other ; and that they have perverted the or¬
der of nature in forming societies. He bestows the
highest praise on the state of nature, and deprecates the
idea of every social compact. This discourse, and espe¬
cially the dedication of it to the republic of Geneva, are
the chef-d’oeuvres of that kind of eloquence of which
the ancients alone had given us any idea. By present¬
ing this performance to the magistrates, he was received
again into his native country, and reinstated in all the
privileges and rights of a citizen,'after having with
much difficulty prevailed on himself to abjure the Ca¬
tholic religion. He soon, however, returned to France,
and lived for some time in Baris. He afterwards gave
himself up to retirement, to escape the shafts of criticism.
and follow after the regimen which the strangury, with Roussea
which he was tormented, demanded of him. This is an '•y*'
important epoch in the history of his life, as it is owing
to this circumstance, perhaps, that we have the most
elegantworks that have comefrom his pen. His “ Letter
to M. d’Alembert” on the design of erecting a theatre
at Geneva, written in his retirement, and published in
1757, contains, along with some paradoxes, some very
important and well handled truths. This letter first
drew down upon him the envy of Voltaire, and was
the cause of those indignities with which that author
never ceased to load him. What is singular in him, is,
that although so great an enemy to theatrical represen¬
tations himself, he caused a comedy to be printed, and
in 1752 gave to the theatre a pastoral (The Village
Conjuror), of which he composed both the poetry and
music, both of them abounding with sentiment and ele¬
gance, and full of innocent and rural simplicity. What
renders the Village Conjuror highly delightful to per¬
sons of taste, is that perfect harmony of words and music
which everywhere pervades it; that proper connection
among the parties who compose it; and its being per¬
fectly correct from beginning to end. The musician
hath spoken, hath thought, and felt like a poet. Every
thing in it is agreeable, interesting, and far superior to
those common affected and insipid productions of our
modern petit-dramas, Flis Dictionary of Music af¬
fords several excellent articles; some of them, however,
are very inaccurate. “ This work (says M. la Borde),
in his Essay on Music, has need to be wTritten over
again, to save much trouble to those who wish to study
it, and prevent them from falling into errors, which
it is difficult to avoid, from the engaging manner in
which Rousseau drags along his readers.” The passages
in it which have any reference to literature may be easi¬
ly distinguished, as they are treated with the agreeable¬
ness of a man of wit and the exactness of a man of taste.
Rousseau, soon after the rapid success of his Village Con¬
juror, published a Letter on French Music, or rather
against French Music, written with as much freedom as
liveliness. The exasperated partizans of French comedy
treated him with as much fury as if he had conspired
against the state. A crowd of insignificant enthusiasts
spent their strength and outcries against him. He was
insulted, menaced, and lampooned. Harmonic fanati¬
cism w ent even to hang him up in effigy.
That interesting and tender style, w hich is so conspi¬
cuous throughout the Village Conjuror, animates several
letters in the New Heloisa, in six parts, published 1761
in 12mo. This epistolary romance, of which the plot is
ill-managed, and the arrangement bad, like all other
works of genius, has its beauties as w?ell as its faults.
More truth in his characters and more precision in his
details were to have been wished. The characters, as
well as their style, have too much sameness, and their
language is too affected and exaggerated. Some of
the letters are indeed admirable, from the force and
warmth of expression, from an effervescence of senti¬
ments, from the irregularity of ideas which ahvays cha¬
racterise a passion carried to its height. But why is so
affecting a letter so often accompanied with an unimpor¬
tant digression, an insipid criticism, or a self-contradict¬
ing paradox ? Why, after having shone in all the energy
ol sentiment, does he on a sudden turn unaffecting ? It
is because none of the personages are truly interesting.
That
Iv 0 U [ 325 ] It 0 U
l ;scau. That <;f St Prolix is weak, and often forced. Julia is
N ,'w an assemblage of tenderness and pity, of elevation of soul
and of coquetry, of natural parts and pedantry. Wol-
mar is a violent man, and almost beyond the limits of
nature. In fine, when he wishes to change his style,
and adopt that of the speaker, it may easily be observed
that he does not long support it, and every attempt em¬
barrasses the author and cools the reader. In the He-
loisa, Rousseau’s unlucky talent of rendering every thing
problematical, appearsvery conspicuous ; as in hisargu-
ments in favour of and against duelling, which afford an
apology for suicide, and a just condemnation of it: in
his facility in palliating the crime of adultery, and his
very strong reasons to make it abhorred : on the one
hand, in declamations against social happiness; on the
other, in transports in favour of humanity ; here, in vio¬
lent rhapsodies against philosophers ; there, by a rage
for adopting their opinions: the existence of Cod at¬
tacked by sophistry, and Atheists confuted by the most
irrefragable arguments; the Christian religion comba¬
ted by the most specious objections, and celebrated with
the most sublime eulogies.
His Emilius afterwards made more noisethan the new
Heloisa. This moral romance, which was published in
2 762, in four vols. 12mo, treats chiefly of education.
Rousseau wished to follow nature in every thing; and
though his system in several places differs from received
ideas, it deserves in many respects to be put in prac¬
tice, and with some necessary modifications it has been
so. Elis precepts are expressed with the force and dig¬
nity of a mind full of the leading truths of morality.
If he has not always been virtuous, no body at least
has felt it more, or made it appear to more advan¬
tage. Every thing which he says against luxury shows
the vices and conceited opinions of his age, and is
worthy at once of Plato or of Tacitus. His style is
peculiar to himself. He sometimes, however, appears,
by a kind of affected rudeness and asperity, to ape at
the mode of Montaigne, of whom he is a great admi¬
rer, and whose sentiments and expressions he often
clothes in a new dress. What is most to be lamented
is, that in wishing to educate a young man as a Chris¬
tian, he has filled his third volume with objections
against Christianity. He has, it must be confessed,
given a very sublime eulogium on the gospel, and an
affecting portrait of its divine Author; but the mi¬
racles and the prophecies, which serve to establish his
mission, he attacks without the least reserve. Admit¬
ting only natural religion, he weighs every thing in
the balance of reason ; and this reason being false, leads
him into dilemmas very unfavourable to his own repose
and happiness.
He dwelt from 1754 in a small house in the country
near Montmorenci; a retreat which he owed to the ge¬
nerosity of a farmer-general. The cause of Ids love for
this retirement was, according to himself, “ that invin¬
cible spirit of liberty which nothing could conquer, and
in competition with which honours, fortune, and repu¬
tation, could not stand. It is true, this desire of liberty
has occasioned less pride than laziness; but this indo¬
lence is inconceivable. Every thing startles it; the
most inconsiderable reciprocalities of social life are to it
insupportable. A word to speak, a letter to write, a
visit to pay, things necessary to be done, are to me pu¬
nishments. Hear my reasons, Although the ordinary
intercourse between mankind be odious to me, intimate Rousseau,
friendship appears to me very dear ; because there are
no mere ceremonies due to it; it agrees with the heart,
and all is accomplished Elere, again, why I have al¬
ways shunned kindnesses so much ; because every act of
kindness requires a grateful mind, and I find my heart
ungrateful, from this alone, that gratitude is a duty.
Lastly, that kind of felicity which is necessary for me,is
not so much to do that which I wish, as not to do what
I wish not to do.” Rousseau enjoyed this felicity which
he so much wished in his retirement. Without entirely
adopting that too rigorous mode of life pursued by the
ancient Cynics, he deprived himself of everj/ thing that
could in any measure add fuel io this wished for luxury,
which is ever the companion of riches, and which in¬
verts even custom itself. Eie might have been happy in
this retreat, if he could have forgot this public, which
he affected to despise ; but his desire after a great name
got the better of his self-love, and it was this thirst afier
reputation which made him introduce so many danger¬
ous paragraphs in his Emilia.
The French parliament condemned this book in 1762,
and entered into a criminal prosecution against the au¬
thor, which forced him to make a precipitate retreat.
He directed his steps towards his native country, which
shut its gates upon him. Proscribed in the place where
he first drew breath, he sought an asylum in Switzer¬
land, and found one in the principality of Neufchatel.
His first care was to defend his Emilia against the man¬
date of the archbishop of Paris, by whom it had been
anathematised. In 1763 he published a letter, in which
he re-exhibits all his errors, set off wdth the most ani¬
mated display of eloquence, and in the most insidious
manner. In this letter he describes himself as “more
vehement than celebrated in his researches, but sincere
on the whole, even against himself; simple and good,
but sensible and weak ; often doing evil, and always
loving good ; united by friendship, never by circum¬
stances, and keeping more to his opinions than to his
interests ; requiring nothing of men, and not wishing to.
be under any obligation to them ; yielding no more to
their prejudices than to their will, and preserving his
own as free as his reason ; disputing about religionwith-
out licentiousness ; lovingneitherimpiety norfanaticism,
but disliking precise people more than bold spirits,” Sec.
EVom this specimen, the limitations he would appoint to
this portrait may easily be discovered.
The letters of La Montaigne appeared soon after;
but this work, far less eloquent, and full of envious dis¬
cussions on the magistrates and clergy of Geneva, irri¬
tated the Protestant ministers without effecting a recon¬
ciliation with the clergy of the Romish church. Rous¬
seau had solemnly abjured the latter religion in 1753,
and, what is somewhat strange,hod then resolved to live
in France, a Catholic country. The Protestant clergy
were not fully reconciled by this change; and the pro¬
tection of the king of Prussia, to whom the principality
of Neufchatel belonged, was not sufficient to rescue him
from that obloquy which the minister of Moutiers-
Travers, the village to which he had retired, had ex¬
cited against him. Eie preached against Rousseau, and
his sermons produced an uproar among the people. On
the night between the 6th and 7th ■September 1763,
some fanatics, drove on by wine and the declamations
of their minister,.threw some stones at the windows of
the
K O U [ 326 1 H 0 U
the Genevan philosopher, who fearing new insults, in
vain sought an asylum in the canton of Berne. As this
canton was connected with the republic of Geneva,
they did not think proper to allow him to remain in
their city, bein<r proscribed by that republic. Neither
his broken state of health, nor the approach of winter,
could soften the hearts of those obdurate Spartans. In
vain, to prevent them from the fear they had of the
spreading of his opinions, did he beseech them to shut
him up in prison till the spring ; for even this favour
was denied him. Obliged to set out on a journey, in
the beginning of a very inclement season, he reached
Strasbourg in a very destitute situation. He received
from Marshal de Contades,who then commanded in that
place, every accommodation which could be expected
from generosity, humanity, and compassion. He wait¬
ed there till the weather wras milder, when he went to
Par's, where Mr Hume then was, who determined on
taking him with him to England. After having made
some stay in Paris, Rousseau actually set out for Lon¬
don in 1766. Hume, much affected with his situation
and his misfortunes, procured for him a very agreeable
settlement in the country. Our Genevan philosopher
was not, however, long satisfied with this new place.
He did not make such an impression on the minds of
the English as he had done on the French. His free
disposition, his obdurate and melancholy temper, were
deemed no singularity in England. He was there look¬
ed upon as an ordinary man, and the periodical prints
were filled with satires against him. In particular, tiny
published a forged letter from the king of Prussia,hold¬
ing up to ridicule the principles and conduct of this
new Diogenes. Rousseau imagined there was a plot be¬
tween Hume and some philosophers in France to des¬
troy his glory and repose. He sent a letter to him, filled
with the most abusive expressions, and reproaching
Iiimfor his conduct towardshim. From thistimehe look¬
ed upon Hume as a wicked and perfidious person, who
had brought him to England with no other view than to
expose him to public ridicule ; which foofish and chim¬
erical idea was nourished by self-love and a restless dis¬
position. He imagined that the English philosopher, a-
midstall his kindnesses, had something disagreeable in
the mannerof expressing them. Thebadhealth of Rous¬
seau, a strong and melancholy imagination, a too nice
sensibility, a jealous disposition, joined with philosophic
vanity, cherished by the false informations of his gover¬
ness, w ho possessed an uncommon power over him ; all
these taken together, might tend to prepossess him with
unfavourable sentiments of some innocent freedoms his
benefactor might have taken with him, and might ren¬
der him ungrateful, which he thought himself incapable
of becoming. Meanwhile, these talse conjectures and
probabilities ought never to have had the weight with
an honest mind to withdraw itself from its friend and
benefactor. Proofs are always necessary in cases of this
kind ; am! that w hich Rousseau had wras by no means a
(ertain demonstration. The Genevan philosopher,how¬
ever, certainly returned to France. In passing through
Amiens, he met with M. Cresset, who inten ogated him
about his misfortunes and the controversies he had been
engaged in. He only answered, “ You have got the
art of making a parrot speak ; but you are not yet pos¬
sessed of the secret of making a bear speak.” In the
mean time, the magistrates of this city wished to con fir
on him some mark of their esteem, which he absolutely Item
refused. His disordered imagination viewed these flat- wy'
teringcivilities as nothing else than insults,such as were
lavished on Sancho in the island of Barataria. He
thought one part of the people looked upon him as like
Lazariile of Tormes, who, being fixed to the bottom of
a tub, with only his head out of the water, was carried
from one town to another to amuse the vulgar. But
these wrong and whimsical ideas did not prevent him
from aspiring after a residence in Paris, where, without
doubt, he was more looked on as a spectacle than in any
other place whatever. On the 1st July 1770, Rousseau
appeared, for the first time, at the regency coffee-house,
dressed in ordinary clothing, having for some time pre¬
vious to this wore an Armenian habit. He wras loaded
with praises by the surrounding multitude. “ It is
somewhat singular (says M. Sennebier) to see a man so
haughty as he returning to the very place from whence
he had been banished so often. Nor is it one of the
smallest inconsistencies of this extraordinary character,
that he preferred a retreat in that place of which he
had spoken so much ill.” It is as singular that a per¬
son under sentence of imprisonment should wish to live
in so public a manner in the very place where his sen¬
tence was in force against him. His friends procured
for him, however, liberty of staying, on condition that
he should neitherwrite on religion nor politics : he kept
his word; for he wrote none at all. He was contented
with living in a calm philosophical manner, giving him¬
self to the society of a tew tried friends, shunning the
company of the great, appearing to have given up all
his whimsies, and affecting neither the character of a
philosopher nor a del esprit. He died of an apoplexy at
Ermenonville, belonging to the marquis de Girardin,
about ten leagues from Paris, July 2. 1178, aged 66
years. This nobleman has erected to his memory a
very plain monument, in a grove of poplars, which con¬
stitutes part of his beautiful gardens. On the tomb are
inscribed the following epitaphs:
Ici repose
& Homme de la Nature
Et de la Veriie!
Vitam impendere Fero *. •fit#
Hie ja cent Ossa J. J. Rousseau. i0.
The curious who go to see this tomb likewise see the
cloak which the Genevan philosopher wore. Above
the door is inscribed the following sentence, which
might afford matter for a whole bonk : “ He is truly
flee, who, to accomplish his pleasure, has no need of
the assistance <f a second person.” Rousseau, during his
stay in the environs of Lyons, married Mademoiselle le
Vasseur, his governess, a woman who, without either
beauty or talents, had gained over him a great ascen¬
dancy. She waited on him in health and in sickness:
But as it she had been jealous of possessing him alone,
she drove from his mind, by the most perfidious in-inu-
ations, all those who came to entertain him ; and when
Rousseau did not dismiss them, she prevented their re¬
turn by invariably refusing them admittance. By these
means she the more easily led her husband into incon¬
sistencies of conduct, which the originality of his cha¬
racter as well as of his opinions so much contributed
to assist. Nature had perhaps but given him the em-
' bryo
K O U [ 327 ] It 0 U
Jto :aa. bryo of his character, and art had probably united to
^ make it more singular. He did not incline to associate
with any person ; and as this method of thinking and
living was uncommon, it procured him a name, and he
displayed a kind of fantasticalness in his behaviourand
his writings. Like Diogenes of old, he united simpli¬
city of manners with all the pride of genius; and a
large stockof indolence, with an extremesensibility, ser¬
ved to render his character still more uncommon. “ An
indolent mind (says he), terrified at everyapplication, a
warm, bilious, and irritabletemperament,sensihlealsoin
a high degree to every thing that can affect it, appear
not possible to be united in the same person : and yet
these two contrarieties compose the chief of mine. An
active life has no charms for me. I would an hundred
times ra'her consent to be idle than to do any thing
against my will; and I have an hundred times thought
that I would live not amiss in the Bastde, provided I
had nothing to do but ju^t continue there. In my
younger days I made several attempts to get in there;
but as they were only with the view of procuring a re¬
fuge and rest in my old age, and like the exertions of
an indolent person, only by fits and starts, they were
never attended with the smallest success. When mis¬
fortunes came, they afforded me a pretext of giving
my^-elfup to my ruling passion.” He often exaggerated
his misfortunes to himself as well as to others. He en¬
deavoured particularly to render interesting by his de¬
scription his misfortunes and his poverty, although the
former were far less tha-n he imagined, and notwith¬
standing he had certain resources against the latter. In
other respects he was charitable, generous, sober, just,
contenting himself with what w.,spurely necessary, and
refusing the means which might have procured him
wealth and offices. He cannot, like many other so¬
phists, be accused of having often repeated with a stu¬
died emphasis the word Virtue, without inspiring the
sentiment. When he is speaking of the duties of man¬
kind, of the principles necessary to our happiness, of
the duty we owe to ourselves and to our equals, it is
with a copiousness, a charm, and an impetuosity, that
could only proceed from the heart. He said one day
to M. de Buffon, “ You have asserted and proved be¬
fore J. J. Rousseau, that mothers ought to suckle their
children.” “Yes (says this great naturalist), we have
all said so; but M. Rousseau alone forbids it, and causes
himselfto be obeyed.” Another academician said, “ that
the virtues of Voltaire were without heart, and those of
Rousseau without head.” He was acquainted at an
early age with the works of the Greek and Roman au¬
thors ; and the republican virtues there held forth to
view, the rigorous austerity of Cato, Brutus, ike. car¬
ried him beyond the limits of a simple estimation of
them. Influenced by his imagination, he admired
every thing in the ancients, and saw nothing in his
contemporaries but enervated minds and degenerated
bodies.
His ideas about politics were almost as eccentric as
his paradoxes about religion. Some reckon his Social
Compact, which Voltaire calls the Unsocial Compact, the
greatest effort his genius produced. Others find it fu 1
ot contradic ions, errors, and cynical passag s, obscure,
ill arranged, and by no means worthy of his shining
pen. There are several other small pieces wrote by
him, to be found in a collection of his works published
in 25 vols. Svo and 12mo, to which there is appended IGussea*.
a very insignificant supplement in 6 vols. -y^-.
The most useful and most important truths in this col¬
lection are picked out in his Thoughts ; in which the
confident sophist and the impious author disappear, and
nothing is offered to the reader but the eloquent writer
and the contemplative moralist. There were found in
his port-folio his Confessions, in twelve books; the first
six of which svere published. ,c In the preface to these
memoirs, wliich abound with characters well drawn, and
written with warmth, with energy, and sometimes wi'.h
elegance, he declares (says M. Palissnt), like a peevish
misanthrope, who boldly introduces himself on theruins
of the world, to declare to mankind, whom he supposes
assembled upon the e ruins, that in that innumerable
multitude, none could dare to say, I am better than that
man. rI his affectation of seeing him-elf alone in the
universe, and of continually directing every thing to
himself, may appear to some morose minds a fanaticism
of pride, of which we have no examples, at least since
the time of Cardan.” But this is not the only blame
which may be attached to the author of the Confessions.
With uneasiness we see him, under the pretext of sin¬
cerity, dishonouring the character of his benefactress
Lady Warren, There are innuendos no less offensive
against obscure and celebrated characters, which ought
entirely or partly to have been suppressed. A lady of
wit said, that Rousseau would have been held in higher
estimation for virtue, “ had he died without his confes¬
sion.” The same opinion is entertained by M. Senne-
bier. author of the Literary History of Geneva: “ His
confessions (says he) appear to me to be a very dange¬
rous book, and paint Rousseau in such colours as we
would never have ventured to apply to him The ex¬
cellent. analyses which we meet with of some sentiments,
and the delicate anatomy which he makes of some ac¬
tions, are not sufficient to counterbalance the detestable
matter which is found in them, and the unceasing ob¬
loquies everywhere to be met with.” It is certain,
th <t if Rousseau has given a faithful delineation of some
persons, he has viewed others through a cloud, which
formed in his mind perpetual suspicions. He imagined
he thought justly and spoke truly; but the Amplest
thing in nature, says M. Servant, if distilled through his
violentandsuspicioushead, mightbecomepoison. Rous¬
seau, in what he says of himself, makes such acknow¬
ledgements as certainly prove that there were better
men than he, at least if we may judge him from the
first six books of his memoirs, where nothing appears
but his vices. They ought not perhaps to be separated
from the six last nooks, where he speaks of the virtues
which make reparation for them ; or rather the work
ought not to have been published at all, if it be true
(which there can be little doubt of) that in his confes¬
sions he injured the public manners, both by the base¬
ness of the vices he disc osed, and by the manner in
which he united them with the virtues. The other
pieces which we find in this new edition of his works
are, 1 The Reveries of a Solitary Wanderer, being a
journal of the latt r part of his life. In this he
confesses, that he liked better to send his children
into hospitals destined for orphans, than to take upon
himself the charge of their maintenance and educa¬
tion ; and endeavours to palliate tins error which no¬
thing can exculpate. 2. Considerations upon the Go¬
vernment
ROW [ 328
Rousseau vermnent of Poland. 3. The Adventures of Lord Ed-
11 ward, a novel, being a kind of supplement to the new
Rowe. Heloisa. 4. Various Memoirs and Fugitive Pieces, with
a great number of letters, some of which are very long,
and written with too much study, but containing some
eloquent passages and some deep thought. 5. Emilia
and Sophia. 6. The Levite of Ephraim, apoem in prose,
in 4 cantos; written in a truly ancient style of simpli¬
city. 7. Letters to Sara. 8. An Opera and a Comedy,
q. Translations of the first book of Tacitus’s History, of
the Episode of Olinda and Sophronia, taken from Tasso,
&c. &c. Like all the other writings of Rousseau, we
find in these posthumous pieces many admirable and
some useful things; but they also abound with contra¬
dictions, paradoxes, and ideas very unfavourable to re¬
ligion. In his letters especially we see a man chagri¬
ned at misfortunes, which he neverattributes to himself,
suspicious of every body about him, calling and belie¬
ving himself a lamb in the midst of wolves; in one
word, as like Pascal in the strength of his genius, as m
his fancy of always seeing a precipice about him. This
is the reflection of M. Servant, who knew him, assisted
him, and caressed him during his retreat at Grenoble in
17fi8. This magistrate having been very attentive in
observing his character, ought the rather to be believed,
as he inspected it without either malice, envy, orresent-
ment, and only from the concern he had for this philo¬
sopher, whom he loved and admired.
ROUT, in Law, is applied to an assembly of persons
going forcibly to commit some unlawful act, whether
they execute it or not. See Riot.
ROUTE, a public road, highway, or course, espe¬
cially that which military forces take. This word is also
used for the defeat and flight of an army.
ROWE, Nicholas, descended of an ancient family
in Devonshire was born in 167He acquired a com¬
plete taste of the classic authors under the famous Dr
Busby in Westminster school; but poetry was his early
and darling study. His father, who was a lawyer,
and designed him for his ow n profession, entered him a
student in the Middle Temple. He made remarkable
advances in the study of the law ; but the love of the
belles lettres, and of poetry in particular, stopt him in
his career. His first tragedy, the Ambitious Stepmo¬
ther, meeting with universal applause, he laid aside all
thoughts of rising by the law. He afterward compo¬
sed several tragedies ; but that which he valued himself
most upon, was his Tamerlane. The others are, theFair
Penitent, Ulysses, the Royal Convert, Jane Shore, and
Lady Jane Grey. He also w rote apoem called the Biter,
and several poems upon diflerent subjects, which have
been published under the title of Miscellaneous Works in
one volume as his dramatic works have been in two.
Rowe is chiefly to be considered (Dr Johnson ob¬
serves) in the light of a tragic writer and a translator.
In his attempt at comedy, he failed so ignominiously,
that his Biter is not inserted in his works ; and his oc¬
casional poems and short compositions are rarely wor¬
thy of either praise or censure, for they seem the ca¬
sual sports of a mind seeking rather to amuse its leisure
than to exercise its powers. In the construction ol his
dramas there is not much art; he is not a nice observer
of the unities. He extends time, and varies place, as
his convenience requires, To vary the place is not (in
the opinion of the learned critic from whom these ob-
]
ROW
servations are borrowed) any violation of nature,
the change be made between the acts; for it is no Ess W-
easy for the spectator to suppose himself at Athens ia
the second act, than at Thebes in the first; but to
change the scene, as is done by Howe in the middle of
an act, is to add more acts to the play, since an act is
so much of the business as is transacted without inter¬
ruption. Rowe, by this licence, easily extricates him¬
self from difficulties; as in Lady Jane Gray, when we
have been terrified with all the dreadful pomp of public
execution, and are wondering how the heroine or the
poet will proceed, no sooner has Jane pronounced some
prophetic rhimes, than—pass and be gone—the scene
closes, and Pembroke and Gardiner are turned out up¬
on the stage. I know not (says Dr Johnson) that there
can be found in his plays any deep search into nature,
any accurate discriminations of kindred qualities, or
nice display of passion in its progress; all is general and
undefined. Nor does he much interest or affect the au¬
ditor, except in Jane Shore, who is always seen and
heard with pity. Alicia is a character of empty noise,
withnoresemblance to real sorrow or to natural madness.
Whence then has Rowe his reputation ? From the rea¬
sonableness and propriety of some of his scenes, from
the elegance of his diction, and the suavity of his
verse Lie seldom moves either pity or terror, but he
often elevates the sentiment; he seldom pierces the
breast, but he always delights the ear, and often im¬
proves the understanding. Being a great admirer of
Shakespeare, he gave the public an edition of his plays;
to which he prefixed an account of that great man’s
life. But the most considerable of Mr Rowe’s per-
fotmanceswasatranslation of Lucan’s Pharsalia, which
he just lived to finish, but not to publish; for it did not
appear in print till 1728, ten years after his death.
Meanwhile, the love of poetry and books did not
make him unfit for business; for nobody applied closer
to it when occasion required. The duke of Queens-
berry, when secretary of state, made him secretary for
public affairs. After the duke’s death, all avenues
were stopped to his preferment; and during the rest ot
Queen Anne’s reign he passed his time with the Muses
and his books. A story, indeed, is told of him, which
shows that he had some acquaintance with her ministers.
It is said, that he went one day to pay his court to the
lord treasurer Oxford, who asked him, “ If he under¬
stood Spanish well ?” He answered, “ No but think¬
ing that his Lord hip might intend to send him into
Spain on some honourable commission, he presently
tdded, “ that he did not doubt but he could shortly be
able both t, understand and to speak it ” The earl ap¬
proving what he said, Rowe took his leave ; and, re¬
tiring a few w eeks to learn the language, waited again
on the Earl to acquaint him with it. His Lordship
asked him, “ If he was sure he understr od it thorough¬
ly ?” and Rowe affirming that he did, “ Llowhappy are
you, Mr RowTe,” said the Earl, “ that you can have the
pleasure of readingand understanding the history of Don
Quixote in the otiginal ?” Qn the accession ol George!,
he w as made poet laureat, and one ot the land surveyors^
of the customs in the port of London. The prince ot
Wales conferred on him the clerkship of his council;
and the Lord Chancellor Parker made him his secretary
for the presentations. He did not-enjoy these promo¬
tions long; for he died Dec. 6. 17IS, in his 45th year.
Mr
R 0 W [
owe. \fr ]>owe was twice married, had a son by his first
jT™’ wife, and a daughter by his second. Fie w\as a hand¬
some, genteel man; and his mind was as amiable as his
per on. He lived beloved j and at his death had the
honour to be lamented by Mr Pope, in an epitaph
which is printed in Pope’s works, although it was not
affixed on Mr Rowe’s monument in Westminster-abbey,
where he was interred in the poet's corner, opposite to
Chaucer.
Ro^e, Elizabeth, an English lady, eminent for her
excel’ent writings both in prose and verse, born at II-
chester in Somersetshire in ] 647, was the daughter of
worthy parents, Mr Walter Singer and Mrs Elisabeth
Portnel. She received the first serious impressions of
religion as soon as she was capable of it. There being
a great affinity between painting and poetry, this lady,
who had a vein for the one, naturally had a taste for
the other. She was also very fond of music; chiefly
of the grave and solemn kind, as best suited to the
grandeur of her sentiments and the sublimity of her
devotion. But poetry was her favourite employment,
her distinguishing excellence. So prevalent was her
genius this way, that her prose is all poetical. In 1696,
a collection of her poems was published at the desire of
two friends. Her paraphrase on the xxxviiith chapter
of Job was written at the request of Bishop Ken. She
had no other tutor for the French and Italian languages
than the honourable Mr Thynne, who willingly took
the task upon himself. Her shining merit, with the
charms of her person and conversation, had procured
her a great many admirers. Among others, it is said,
the famous Mr Prior made his addresses to her. But
Mr Thomas Rowe wras to be the happy man. This gen¬
tleman wTas honourably descended; and his superior ge¬
nius, and insatiable thirst after knowledge, were con¬
spicuous in his earliest years. He had formed a design
to compile the lives of all the illustrious persons in an¬
tiquity omitted by Plutarch ; which, indeed, he partly
executed. Eight lives wrere published since his decease.
They were translated into French by the abbe Rellen-
ger in l7!i4. He spoke with ease and fluency; had a
frank and benevolent temper, an inexhaustible fund of
wit, and a communicative disposition. Such was the
man who, charmed with the person, character, and
writings, of our authoress, married her in 1710, and
made it his study to repay the felicity with which she
crowned his life. Too intense an application to study,
beyond what tiie delicacy of his fx-ame would bejr, bi’oke
his health, and threw him into a consumption, which
put a period to his valuable life in May 171 5, when he
was hut just past the ^8th year of his age. Mrs Row'e
wrote a beautiful elegy on his death ; and continued to
the last moments of her life to express the highest vene¬
ration and affection for his memory. As soon after his
decease as her affairs would permit, she indulged her
inclination for solitude, by retiring to Frome, in So¬
mersetshire, in the neighbourhood of which place the
greatest part of her estate lay. In this recess it was
that she composed the most celebrated of her works.
Friendship in Death, and the Letters Moral and En¬
tertaining. In 173(), she published, the History of
Joseph ; a poem which she had written in her younger
years. She did not long survive this publication; for
she died of an apoplexy, as was supposed, Feb. 20.
1736-7. In her cabinet were found lettei's to several of
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
329 ] K 0 W
her friends, wdiich she had ordered to be delivered im- Hairer
mediately after her decease. The Rev. Dr Isaac Watts, II
agreeably to her request, revised and published her de- Kowning-
votions in 1737, under the title of Devout Exei’cises ^
of the Heart in Meditation and Soliloquy, Praise and
Prayer; axxd, in 1739, her Miscellaneous Works, in
prose and verse, were published in 2 vols. 8vo, with an
account of her life and writings prefixed.
As to her person, she was not a regular beauty, yet
possessed a large share of the charms of her sex." She
was of a moderate stature, her hair of a fine colour,
her eyes of a dai’kish gray inclining to blue, and full of
fire. Her complexion wras very fair, and a natural blush
glowed in her cheeks. She spoke gracefully ; her voice
was exceedingly sweet and harmonious ; and she had a
softness in her aspect which inspired love, yet not with¬
out some mixture of that awe and venei’ation which di¬
stinguished sense and virtue, apparent in the counte¬
nance, are wont to create.
ROWEL, among farriers, a kind of issue answer¬
ing to wffiat in surgery is called a selon. See Far¬
riery, sect. v.
ROWLEY, a monk who is said to have flourished
at Bristol in the 15th century, and to have been an
author voluminous and elegant. Of the poems attri¬
buted to him, and published some time ago, various
opinions have been entertained, which we have noticed
elsewhere. They seem now to be almost forgotten. See
Chattertont.
Rowley, William, who stands in the third class of
dx-amatic writers, lived in the reign of King Charles I.
and received his education at the university of Cam¬
bridge ; but whether he took any degree there, is not
evident; there being but few particulars preserved in
reg :rd to him more than his close intimacy and connec¬
tion w ith all the principal wits and poetical geniuses of
that age, by whom he was well beloved, and with some
of w hom he joined in their writings. Wood styles him
“ the ornament, for w it and ingenuity, of Pembroke-
hall in Cambridge.” In a word, he was a very great
benefactor to the English stage, having, exclusive of his
aid lent to Middleton, Day, Heywood, We! ster, Ac.
left us five plays of his own composing, and one in which
even the immortal Shakespeare afforded him some as¬
sistance.
ROWNING, John, an English mathematician and
philosopherof considerable ingenuity, wasfel3owr of Mag¬
dalen college, Cambridge, and afterwards rector of An-
derby in Lincolnshire, in the gift of that society. Pie
constantly attended the meetings o.'’ the Spalding socie¬
ty, and w'as a man of an extraordinary philosophical
habit and turn of mind, while at the same time his dis¬
positions were social and cheerful. His genius was pe¬
culiarly fitted for mechanical contrivances or inventions.
He published a compendious system of Natural Philoso¬
phy at Cambridge, in the year 1738. in tw^o vols. 8vo.;
a work of much ingenuity, w hich has gone through se¬
veral editions. Pie likewise inserted two pieces in the
Philosophical Transactions, viz. a description of a baro¬
meter, wherein the scale of variation may be increased
at pleasure; vol. xxxviii. p. 39.; and directions for ma¬
king a machine for finding the roots of equations uni¬
versally, together with the manner in which it is to be
used ; vol. lx. p. 240.
He died at hi: lodgings in Carey street, near Lin-
t T t coin’s
II O X [ 330 ] E 0 X
Kowning, eoln’s-inh Fields, in the end of November 1771, at 72
shiref1" years aSe’ Though a man both ingenious and plea-
^ sant, his external appearance was rather forbidding, as.
he was tall, stooped in the shoulders, and his counte¬
nance was down-looking and sallow.
ROXBURGHSHIRE, a county of Scotland, which
is also known by the name of Teviotdale, measures
about 40 miles in length from north to south, and in
breadth about 36 miles in a direction between east and
west; containing 472,320 square acres. The centre
of the county is computed to lie in 55°. 25'. N. Lat.
and in 2°. 37'. W. Long, from the meridian of London.
The counties of Northumberland and Cumberland form
its boundary on the south; it is also bounded by the
former county on the east, by Berwickshire on the
north, and on the west by the counties of Dumfries,
Selkirk, and Edinburgh.
The external appearance of this county is regarded as
upon the whole extremely ^beautiful, exhibiting an alter¬
nate succession of hills ani dales, through which flow a
considerable number of small rivers. The greater part
of the hills are covered with a fine sward, producing va¬
luable grasses for the feeding of sheep; and the county
is divided into four different districts, the most moun-
. tainous part of it being denominated the district of Ha¬
wick ; the second is that of Jedburgh ; the third is the
district of Kelso, and the fourth is known by the name
of the district of Melrose, being composed of that part
of the county which is situated to the noithward of the
Test.
The most remarkable hills in the county of Roxburgh
are Minto, 858 feet above the level of the sea ; Dunion
3 021 ; Eldon 1330; Ruberslaw 1419; Carterfell 1602,
Wisp 1803. These constitute a part of that extensive
range generally known by the appellation of Cheviot,
which is distant not above a mile from the most easterly
point of Roxburgh. Whinstone is their chief constitu¬
ent, in which veins of Scotch pebbles are usually inter¬
spersed. They are often covered with whinstone re¬
duced to the state of powder by the action of the wea¬
ther. The hills towards their summits are in general of
a conical form, a circumstance which some think is
favourable to the volcanic system ;—that the globe at
some remote period has suffered the most dreadful con¬
vulsions from the irresistible action of fire.
The county of Roxburgh is intersected by a multi¬
tude of streams, the most important of which are the
Teviot, Jed, Tweed, Rule, Kale, Oxnam, Gala, Slitrig,
Ale, Caster, Borthwick, Ednam, Bowmont, Allan, Lea¬
der, Ettrick, Hermitage, Liddel. The term river is
rarely applied to any of these streams, except to the
three first, viz. the Teviot, the Jed, and the Tweed,
none of which are navigable but for small ferry boats.
Some rivers in England, such as the Tyne, the Cocket,
&c. have their origin in the more elevated parts of the
county of Roxburgh.
In an agricultural point of view, Roxburghshire may
be divided into land under tillage and under pasture, al¬
though a considerable portion of the latter may be re¬
duced to arable land. The soils under tillage may be
divided into light and clayey, the former of which is
visually denominated green, and the latter white soil, be¬
cause it is best adapted to the rearing of oats, wheat,
and other white grains. What is called till in Rox¬
burghshire, generally consists of a hard clay intermixed
with stones, by which it resembles coarse gravel. Most Roxburg
of the different species of till may be changed into a stlire'
fertile soil in process of time, by being exposed to the 'WV
action of the atmosphere, and mixed with lime and ma¬
nure. Sweet, sour, and healthy, are the terms by
which lands under pasture are usually distinguished,
and these are conferred from a consideration of the
nature of the soil, its grasses, and such other circum¬
stances as indicate them to be favourable or unfavour¬
able for the rearing of sheep. Much of these lands was,
at a remote period, under wood and heath, the existence
of the former being pointed out by the roots of trees
still remaining in the ground. The soil in general is
sharp and dry upon the hills; but some of the high
moors and the grounds in the vicinity of rivers are wet
and marshy.
There are different tracts of land in this county which
still continue in a state of nature, a portion of which
kind, measuring about four miles long and two broad,
runs through part of the parishes of Ancrum and Rox¬
burgh, chiefly of a light gravelly nature, covered with
heath, bent, and other coarse grasses. The large district
of Liddesdale is wholly under sheep-pasturage, with the
exception of a few stripes on the banks of the Liddel
and Hermitage. Indeed a cold wet soil, and exposed
situation, and unfriendly climate, hold out few incen¬
tives to improvements in agriculture. In ancient times
this must have been very different from what it is at
present. The marks of the plough can still be traced
on the summits of lofty mountains, where the production
of crops at this day is wholly impracticable. The
counties on the borders were not, at a remote period,,
possessed by individuals in large detached portions, but
the people of a whole neighbourhood had their alternate
ridges, in which case they became interested in defend¬
ing the property of each other against invaders and
plunderers. The wars of the border, however, were
happily terminated by the union of England and Scot¬
land under one sovereign, in consequence of which the
holding of property in what was denominated runrigg,
no longer possessed its ancient advantages, but was ra¬
ther a disadvantage, as it created constant quarrels and
disputes among farmers, and greatly retarded the im¬
provement of the soil. Each individual, therefore, be¬
came anxious to have his lands detached from those of
his neighbours, an advantageous change which was very
soon and very generally adopted.
A Mr Dawson, the son of a farmer in Roxburgh¬
shire, having resided four years in the west riding of
Yorkshire, and a year in Essex, thereby made himself
well acquainted with themost approved methods of hus¬
bandry practised in England, and returned to his native
country in the full assurance of being able to introduce
into the agriculture of Scotland the most essential im¬
provements. On his arrival in Roxburghshire in the
year 1753, he immediately introduced the turnip hus¬
bandry, which he sowed in drills, and was certainly the
first Scots farmer who introduced the cultivation of tur¬
nip into the open field. His neighbours being wholly
ignorant of the agriculturalknowledgewhichthis young
gentleman had acquired in England, began to predict
his ruin as wholly inevitable ; but he was not to be in¬
timidated by their prophetic sentiments, and he went on
resolutely in bringing his lands into the very best condi-
tion, which he fully effected by means of the turnip
husbandry.
J
K 0 X [ 331 ] II 0 X
Hi mgli- husbandry, by the sowing of artificial grasses, a practice
re- then unknown in Scotland, and by the free and exten-
s sive use of lime. By such a procedure his neighbours
saw him becoming rapidly opulent, and having followed
his example with the most flattering success, they were
constrained to alter their sentiments respecting his con¬
duct as a farmer, and to hail him the father of the agri¬
culture of the south ef Scotland.
The rotation of crops now followed in this county
has nothing in it of a peculiar nature, the arrangement
on a dry soil being generally oats, turnips, barley with
grasses, hay or pasture for one year, then barley as be¬
fore. Where the soil is good and properly prepared, it
is not uncommon with farmers to adopt the following
rotation, viz. oats, turnips, oats, turnips, wheat or bar¬
ley with grasses, and hay or pasture for one year. A
part of Roxburghshire has been long celebrated for a
species of oats which produce early crops, and which are
known by the appellation of Blainsly oats, because they
have been produced at Blainsly from time immemorial,
which is a district in the parish of Melrose, and northern
extremity of the county. These are often five shillings
a boll dearer than common oats, and in no situation
whatever are they known to degenerate. In some rich
soils the produce is 16 or 18 for 1, and the lowest ave¬
rage produce is at least six for one. The general prac¬
tice of feeding cattle with turnip has diminished the
culture of pease and beans in this county, and there are
so few potatoes reared that they cannot be regarded as
forming a part of the farmer’s crop. Extensive crops
of hay are not in general cultivated in this county, there
being but few cities in which an advantageous market
could be found ; and the use of it is in a great measure
supplanted by that of turnip. Little more flax is reared
than what is necessary for domestic purposes.
There is a circumstance worthy of observation, that
the rearing of tobacco was, at one period, attempted in
this county with remarkable success. It was introduced
by a Mr Thomas Man, who had been for some time in
America. Soon after the first experiments w ere made,
a single acre of land produced a crop worth L.70 ster¬
ling ; and the crop of 13 acres was sold on the ground
for L.320 ; but in consequence of an act of parliament
prohibiting the culture of it, the purchaser could not
implement his bargain, and the farmer was obliged to
sell it to government at the rate of fourpence a pound,
in consequence of wrhich it brought him no more than
L.104 instead of I,.320.
Great quantities of cattle are fed in this county, and
about 260,000 sheep of the Cheviot breed in general,
which are found to thrive remarkably in every part of
the county. The horses are either of the English breed,
or from Lanarkshire, which latter are deemed preferable
for steady work in the plough. Although swine are
not kept by the farmers as a part of their stock, yet
great numbers of them are reared by tradesmen, cot¬
tagers, hinds, and others, the small breed being chiefly
preferred, not exceeding eight or nine stones English
each. Roxburghshire is also famous lor the rearing of
poultry, and immense quantities of eggs are sent from
it to Berwick, to be shipped for the London market.
Crows are here so numerous, thattheyfrequently darken
the air in their flight, and are extremely destructive to
every species of grain. A great part of the county is
uninclosed, and the fences made use of are the hedge
and ditch, although in some places upright stone dykes Ro£bitr£f««
have the decided preference, where stones can be readily shire,
procured.
The orchards of Roxburgh county have been long
celebrated for different kinds of fruit, and there are
here two extensive nurseries for the rearing of trees.
These last are at Hassendean burn in the parish of M in¬
to, and at Hawick. The whole county, however, like
that of Berwick, is extremely defective in mineral pro¬
ductions, and coal has nowLere been found. Limestone
is no doubt met with in different places of it, but the
want of fuel requisite for its calcination, induces farmers
to bring it from Dalkeith or Edinburgh in their corn
carts, which might otherwise return empty.
In the vicinity of Jedburgh there are two springs of
chalybeate water, with indications of more in different
parts of the parish, which have not yet been subjected
to an examination or analysis, although the waters of
Tudhope well have been regarded as antiscorbutic, and
of use also in rheumatic disorders.
In this county there are many remains of antiquity,
such as ancient strong buildings, and vestiges of camps.
Different remains of encampments and fortifications are
to be met with in the parish of Roberton, which in all
probability have been the wrork of the Romans. Her¬
mitage castle is situated upon the bank of the river of
the same name, and is nearly 100 feet square, defended
by a strong rampart and ditch. The inner part of it is
a heap of ruins, but the w7alls are almost entire. Thi*
is probably the very castle mentioned by Smollet, wrhich
was built in Liddesdale by Alexander II. and which
gave such offence to Henry III. of England that he
made war on Alexander in the year 1240. There are
several caves or recesses on the banks of the Ale water,
not fewer than fifteen of which, it is said, may be still
pointed out, in some of which the vestiges of chimneys
or fire-places are very discernible. Although at first
used by plunderers as places of safe retreat, they were
no doubt afterwards employed by the poorer classes of
the community as their ordinary habitations. Perlxaps
the abbey of Melrose is tire most distinguished monu¬
ment of antiquity to be met with in this county. See
the article Melrose.
Roxburghshire has given birth to some of the most
eminent characters who have adorned the republic of let¬
ters, among whom vre find Dr John Armstrong, a dis¬
tinguished physician and poet; James Thomson, the
far-famed author of the Seasons ; the poet Gawin Dou¬
glas, at one time rector of Hawick, afterwards bishop
of Dunkeld ; and the celebrated George Augustus El¬
liot, afterwards Lord Heathfield.
Notwithstanding the difficulty of procuring fuel in
this county, several manufactures have been carried on
with a considerable degree of spirit and determined per¬
severance, the chief of which are carpets, inkle, cloth
and stockings, in the manufacture of which nearly 300
packs of wool (each 12 stones) have been annually con¬
sumed. About 4000 pairs of stockings have been made
in the same time, and 10 tons of linen yarn consumed
in the making of inkle.
The population of this county in 1801, amounted to
33,682, and in 1811 to 37,230. The following is the
population according to the parishes, taken from the
Statistical History of Scotland. See Roxburghshire
Supplement.
T t 2
Parishes’
HOY [ 332 ] II 0 Y
Soxbutgk-
shiie
II
Hoyjil.
Parishes.
Ancrum
Ashkirk
Bedrule
Bowden
5 Castleton
Cavers
Grading
Ednam
Eckford
JO Hawick
Hobkirk
Hownam
Jedburgh
Kelso
J,5 Kirktown
Lessuden
Liliesleaf
Linton
Mackerston
20 Max^on
Melrose
Minto
Morebattle
Oxnam
25 Robert on
Roxburgh
Smailholm
Southdean
Sprouston
30 Wilton
Yetholm
Population
in IT55,
1066
629
297
672
1507
993
387
387
1083
£713
530
632
5816
2781
330
309
521
413
165
397
2322
395
789
760
651
784
551
669
1089
936
699
31,273
Population in
1790—1758.
1146
539
259
860
1418
1300
672
600
952
2928
700
365
3288
4324
342
500
630
383
255
326
2446
513
789
690
629
840
421
714
1000
1215
976
32,020
31,273
Increase
747
ROXENT-cape, or Pock of Lisbon,, a mountain and
remarkable promontory in Pol tugal, situated in the At¬
lantic ocean, at the north entrance of the Tagus, 22
miles north of Lisbon. t
ROYAL, something belonging to a king : thus we
say, royal family, royal assent, royal exchange, &c.
Royal Family. Thefirst and most considerable branch
of the king’s royal family, regarded by the la ws of Eng¬
land, is the queen.
1. The queen of England is either queen regent,
queen consort, or queen dowager. The queen regent,
regnant, or sovereign, is she w ho holds the crown in her
own right; as the first (and perhaps the second) Queen
Mary, Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Anne; and such
a one has the same powers, prerogatives, right, digni¬
ties, and duties, as if she had been a king. This is
expressly declared by statute 1 Mar. T. st. 3. c. i. But
the queen consort is the wife of the reigning king ; and
she by virtue of her marriage is participant of divers
prerogatives above other women.
And, first, she is a public person, exempt and distinct
from the king; and not, like other married women,
so closely connected as to have lost all legal or separate
existence so long as the marriage continues. For the
tjueen is of ability to purchase lands and to convey
them, to make leases, to grant copyholds, and do other
acts of ownership, without the concurrence of her lord ;
which no other married woman can do: a privilege as
old as the Saxon era. She is also capable of taking a
grant from the king, which no o'her wife is from her
husband ; and in this particular she ag; ees with the cw-
gusta or piissima regina conjux divi imperaloris of the
Roman laws ; who, according to Justinian, was equally
capable of making a grant to, and receiving one from,
the emperor. The queen of England hath separate
courts and officers distinct from the king’s, not only
in matters of ceremony, but even of law ; and her at¬
torney and solicitor general are entitled to a place with¬
in the bar of his majesty’s courts, together wiihthe king’s
counsel. She may likewise sue and be sued alone, with¬
out joining her husband. She may also have a separate
property in goods as well as lands, and has a right to
dispose of them by will. In short, she is in all legal
proceedings looked upon as a feme sole, and not as a
feme covert; as a single, not as a married woman. For
which the reason given by Sir Edward Coke is this:
because the wisdom of the common law would not have
the king (whose continual care and study is for the
public, and circa ardua regnij to be troubled and dis¬
quieted on account of his woe’s domestic affairs j and
therefore it vests in the queen a power of transacting
her own concerns, without the intervention of the king,
as if she were an unmarried woman.
The queen hath also many exemptions, and minute
prerogatives. For instance; she pays no toll; nor is
she liable to any amercement in any court. But in ge¬
neral, unless where the law has expressly declared her
exempt, she is upon the same footing with other sub¬
jects ; being to all intents and purposes the king’s sub¬
ject, and not his equal: m like manner as in the im¬
perial law, Augustus legibus solutus non est.
The queen hath also >ome pecuniary advantages,
which form her distinct revenue : as, in the first place,
she is entitled to an ancient perquisite called queen gold,
or aurum regince ; which is a royal revenue belonging
to every queen consort during her marriage with the
king, and due from every person who hath made a vo¬
luntary offering or fine to the king, amounting to 10
merks or upwards, for and in consideration of any pri¬
vileges, grants, licences, pardons, or other matter of
royal favour conferred upon him by the king: and it
is due in the proportion to one-tenth part more, over
and above the entire offering or fine made to the king,
and becomes an actual debt of record to the queen’s
majesty by the mere recording of the fke. As, if 100
merks of silver be given to the king for liberty to take
in mortmain, or to have a fair, market, park, chase, or
free-warren ; there the queen is entitled to 10 merks in
silver, or (what was formerly an equivalent denomina¬
tion) to one merk in gold, by the name of queen gold,
or aurum regince. But no such payment is due for any
aids or subsidies granted to the king in puriiament or
convocation; or for fines imposed by courts on offenders
against their will; nor for voluntary presents to the
king, without any consideration moving from him to
tile subject; nor for any sale or contract whereby the
present revenues or possessions of the crown are granted
away or diminished
The original revenue of our ancient queens, before
and soon after the conquest, seems to have consisted iu
certain
Hoy a!
HOY [ 333 ] E 0 Y
yal. certain reservations or rents out of the demesne lands
f"—* of the crown, which were expressly appropriated to
her majesty, distinct from the king1. It is frequent in
domesclay book, after specifying the rent due to the
crown, to add likewise the quantity of gold or other
renders reserved to the queen. These were frequently
appropriated to particular purposes : to buy wood for
her majesty’s use, to purchase oil for lamps, or to fur¬
nish her attire from head to foot, v hich was frequent¬
ly very costly, as one single rol e in the fifth year of
Henry II. stood the city of London in upwards of 80
pounds : A practice somewhat similar to that of the
eastern countries, wherewhole c ties and provinces were
specifically assigned to purchase particular parts of the
queen’s apparel. And for a farther addition to her
income, this duty of queen gold is supposed to have
been originally granted; those matters of grace and
favour, out of which it arose, being frequently obtain¬
ed from the crown by the powerful intercession of the
queen. There are traces of its payment, though ob«
sCure ones, in the book of domesday, and in the great
pipe-roll of Henry I. In the reign of Henry II. the
manner of collecting it appears to have been well un¬
derstood ; and it forms a distinct head in the ancient
dialogue of the exchequer written in the time of that
prince, and usually attiibuted to Gervase of Tilbury.
From that time downwards, it was regularly claimed
and enjoyed by all the queen consorts of England till
the death of Henry VIII.; though after the accession
of the Tudor family, the collecting of it seems to have
been much neglected: and there being no queen consort
afterwards till the accession of James I. a period of near
60 yeai-s, its very nature and quantity then became a
matte^ of doubt; and being referred by the king to
the chief justices and chief baron, their report of it w'as
so very unfavourable, that his consort Queen Anne,
though she claimed it, yet never thought proper to
exact it. In 1635, 11 Car. I. a time fertile of expedi¬
ents for raising money upon dormant precedents in our
old records (of which ship-money was a fatal instance),
the king, at the petition of his queen Henrietta Maria,
issued out his writ for levying it: but afterwards pur¬
chased it of his consort at the price of 10,000 pounds ;
finding it, perhaps, too trifl ng and troublesome to levy.
And, when afterwards, at the Restoration, by the abo¬
lition of military tenures, and the fines that were con¬
sequent upon them, the little that legally remained
of this revenue was reduced to almost nothing at all ;
in vain did Mr Pry one, by a treatise that does honour
to his abilities as a painful and judicious antiquarian,
endeavour to excite Queen Catherine to revive this an¬
tiquated claim.
Another ancient perquisite belonging to the queen
consort, mentioned by all our old writers, and therefore
only worthy notice, is this : th it on the faking a whale
on the coasts, which is a royal fish it shall be divided
between the king and queen; the head only being the
king’s property; and '.he tail of it the queen’s. De slur-
gion* observetur, quod rex ilium habebit integrum; de
bah-na vero sufficit, si rex ha bent caput, ct regina can*
dam. The reason of this whimsical division, as assigned
by our ancient records, was, to furnish the queen’s
wardrobe with v, hale-bone.
Rut farther: though the queen is in all respects a
subject, yet, in point of the security of her life and
person, she is put upon the same footing with the king. Royal.
It is equally treason (by the statute 25 Edward III.)
to imagine or compass the death of our lady the king’s
companion, as of the king himself; and to violate or
defile the queen consort, amounts to the same high
crime ; as well in the person committing the fact, as in
the queen herself if consenting. A law of Henry VIII.
made it treason also for any woman who was not a vir¬
gin to marry the king without informing him thereof:
but this law was soon after repealed ; it trespassing too
strongly, as well on natural justice as female modesty.
If however the queen be accused of any species of trea¬
son, she shall (whether consort or dowager) be tried by
the peers of parliament, as Queen Ann Boleyn was in
28 Hen VIII.
The husband of a queen regnant, as Prince George
of Denmark was to Queen Anne, is her subject; and
may be guilty of high treason against her : but, in the
instance of conjugal fidelity, he is not subjected to the
same penal restrictions. For which the reason seems to
be, that if a queen consort is unfaithful to the royal bed,
this may debase or bastardize the heirs to the crown;
but no such danger can be consequent on the infidelity
of the husband to a queen regnant.
2. A queen dowager is the widow of the king, and
as such enjoys most of the privileges belonging to her
as queen consort. But it is not high treason to con¬
spire her death, or to violate her chastity ; lor the same
reason as was before alleged, because the succession to
the crown is not thereby endangered. Yet still, pro
dignitale regali, no man can marry a queen dowager
without special licence from the king, on pain of for¬
feiting his lands and goods. This Sir Edward Coke
tells us, was enacted in parliament in 6 Henry VI.
though the statute be not in print. But she, though
an alien born, shall still be entitled to dower after the
king’s demise, which no other alien is. A queen
dowager when married again to a subject, doth not
lose her regal dignity, as peeresses-dowager do when
they marry commoners. For Katherine, queen dow¬
ager of Henry V. though she married a private gentle¬
man, Owen ap Meredith ap Theodore, commonly call¬
ed Owen Tudor ; yet, by the name of Katherine queen
of England, maintained an action against the bishop of
Carlisle. And so the dowager of Navarre marrying
with Edmond the brother of King Edward 1. main¬
tained an action of dower by the name of queen of Na¬
varre.
3. The prince of Wales, or heir apparent to the
crown, and also his royal consort and the princess
royal, or eldest daughter of the king, are likewise pe¬
culiarly regarded by the laws. For, by statute 25
Edw. III. to compass or conspire the death of the for¬
me", or to violate the chastity of either of the latter,
are as much high treason as to conspire the death of
the king or violate the chastity of the queen. And
this upon the same reason as was before given; be¬
cause the prince of Wales is next in succession to the
crown, and to violate his wife might taint the blood-
royal with bastardy ; and the eldest daughter of the
king is also alone inheritable to the crown on failure
of issue male, and therefore more respected by the laws
than any of her younger sisters; insomuch that upon
this, united with other (feodal) principles, while out*
miii’ary tenures were in force, the king might levy an
ROY • [ 834 ] ROY
Royal, for mar)-ying his ehlest daughter, and her only.
The heir apparent to the crown is usually made prince
of Wales and earl of Chester, by special creation and
investiture; but being the king’s eldest son, he is by
inheritance duke of Cornwall, without any new crea¬
tion.
4. The rest of the royal family may be considered
in two different lights, according to the different senses
in which the term royal family is used. The larger
sense includes all those who are by any possibility in-
heiitable to the crown. Such, before the revolution,
were all the descendants of William the Conqueror ;
who had branched into an amazing extent by inter-
marriages with the ancient nobility. Since the revo¬
lution and act of settlement, it means the Protestant
issue of the princess Sophia ; now comparatively few in
number, but which in process of time may possibly be
as largely diffused. The more confined sense includes
only those who are in a certain degree of propinquity
to the reigning prince, and to whom therefore the law
pays an extraordinary regard and respect; but after
that degree is past, they fall into the rank of ordinary
subjects, and are seldom considered any farther unless
Called to the succession upon failure of the nearer lines.
For though collateral consanguinity is regarded inde¬
finitely with respeetto inheritance or succession, yet itis
and can only be regarded within some certain limits in
any other respect, by the natural constitution of things
and the dictates of positive law.
The younger sons and daughters of the king, and
other branches of the royal family, who are not in the
immediate line of succession, were therefore little far¬
ther regarded by the ancient law, than to give them a
certain degree of precedence before all peers and pub¬
lic officers as well ecclesiastical as temporal. This is
done by the statute SI Henry VIII. c. 10. which
enacts, that no person except the kings children shall
presume to fix or have place at the side of the cloth of
estate in the parliament chamber; and that certain
great officers therein named shall have precedence,
above all dukes, except only such as shall happen to be
the king’s son, brother, uncle, nephew (which Sir Ed¬
ward Coke explains to signify grandson or nepos), or
brother’s or sister’s son. But under the description of
the king’s children, his grandsons are held to be in¬
cluded, without having recourse to Sir Edward. Coke’s
interpretation of nephew ; and therefore when his late
majesty King George II. created his grandson Edward,
the second son of Frederick prince of Wales deceased,
duke of York, and referred it to the bouse of lords to
settle his place and precedence, they certified that he
ought to have precedence next to the late duke of Cum¬
berland, the then king’s youngest son; and that he
might have a seat on the lef t hand of the cloth of estate.
But when, on the accession of his present majesty,
these royal personages ceased to take place as the chil¬
dren, and ranked only as the brothei and uncle of the
king, they also left their seats on the side of the cloth
of estate; so that when the duke of Gloucester, his ma¬
jesty’s second brother, took his seat in the house of
peers, he wras placed on the upper end of the earls
bench (on which the dukes usually sit) next to his royal
highness the duke of York. And in 1717, upon a
question referred to all the judges by King George I.
it was resolved, by the opinion of ten again A the other
two, that the education and care of all the king’s grand-
children, while minors, did belong of right to his ma¬
jesty as king of this realm, even during their father’s H
life. But they all agreed, that the care and approba- WY '
tion of their marriages, when grown up. belonged to
the king their grandfather And the judges have more
recently concurred in opinion, that this care and appro¬
bation extend also to the presumptive heir of the crown ;
though to what other branches of the royal family the
samedid extend, they did not find precisely determined.
Tiie most frequent intances of the crown’s interposition
go no farther than nephews and nieces; but examples
are not wanting of its reaching to more distant collate¬
rals. And the statute of Henry VI. before mentioned,
which prohibits the marriage of a queen-dowager with¬
out the consent of the king, assigns this reason for it:
“ because the disparagement of the queen shall give
greater comfort and example to other ladies of estate,
who are of the blood-royal, more lightly to disparage
themselves.” Therefore by the statute 128 Hen. VIII.
c. 18. (repealed, among other statutes of treasons, by
1 Edw. VI. c. 12.) it was made high treason for any
man to contract marriage with the king’s children or
reputed children, his sisters or aunts ex parte paterna, or
the children of his brethren or sisters ; being exactly
the same degrees to which precedence is allowed by the
Statute 31 Hen. VIII. before mentioned. And now,
by statute 12 Geo. Ill, c. 11. no descendant of the
body of King Geo. II. (other than the issue of prin¬
cesses married into foreign families) is capable of con¬
tracting matrimony, without the previous consent of the
king signified under the great seal; and any marriage
contracted without such a consent is void. Provided,
that such of the said descendants as are not above 25,
may, after a twelvemonth’s notice given to the king’s
privy-council, contract and solemnize marriage without
the consent of the crown ; unless both houses of parlia¬
ment shall, before the expiration of the said year, ex¬
pressly declare their disapprobation of such intended
marriage. And all persons solemnizing, assisting, or
being present at any such prohibited marriage, shall in¬
cur the penalties of the statute of praemunire.
Royal Oak, a fair spreading tree at Boscobel, in the
parish of Donnington in Staffordshire, the boughs of
which were once covered with ivy; in the thick of
which King Charles II. sat in the day-time with Colonel
Careless, and in the night lodged in Boscobel house :
so that they are mistaken who speak of it as an old
hollow oak : it being then a gay flourishing tree, sur¬
rounded with many more. Its poor remains are now
fenced in with a handsome wall, with this inscription in
gold letters: Fclicissimam arborem quam in asylum po-
tenlissimi regis Caroli II. Dens op. max. per quem reges
regnant, hie crcsccre voluit, &c.
Royal Society. See Society. s
ROYALTIES, the rights of the king: otherwise
called the king’s prerogative, and the regalia. See Pre¬
rogative and Regalia.
ROYEN1A, a genus of plants belonging to the de-
candria class; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 18th order. Biconics. See Botany Index.
ROYSTON, a town of Hertfordshire in England,
seated in E. Long. 0. 1. N. Lat. 52. 3. It is seated
in a fertile vale full of inns ; the market is very con¬
siderable for corn, and it contained 1309 inhabitants
in
RUB [ 335 ] RUB
] ston
I
I ens.
in 1811. There was lately discovered, almost un¬
der the market place, a subterraneous chapel of one
Rosia, a Saxon lady: it has several altars and images
cut out of the chalky sides, and is in form of a sugar-
loaf, having no entrance but at the top.
RUBBER, India. See Caoutchouc.
RUBENS, Sir Peter Paul, the most eminent of
the Flemish painters, was born in 1577 ; but whether
at Antwerp or Cologne is uncertain. His father, who
was a counsellor in the senate of Antwerp, had been
forced by the civil wars to seek refuge in Cologne, and
during his residence there Rubens is commonly said to
have been born.
The genius of Rubens, which began to unfold itself
in his earliest years, was cultivated with peculiar care,
and embellished withevery branch ofclassical and polite
literature.
He soon discovered a strong inclination for designing;
and used to amuse himself with that employment in his
leisure hours, while the rest of his time was devoted
to other studies. His mother, perceiving thebias of her
son, permitted him to attend the instructions of Tobias
Verhaecht a painter of architecture and landscape. He
next became the pupil of Adam Van Oort, but he soon
found that the abilities of this master were insufficient to
answer his elevated ideas. His surly temper too was
disgustful to Rubens, whose natural disposition was mo¬
dest and amiable.
Anxious to find an artist whose genius and disposi¬
tions were congenial with his own, he became the dis¬
ciple of Octavio Van Veen, generally known by the
name of Otho Venius, a painter of singular merit, and
who was not only skilled in the principles of his art,
but alsodistinguished for learning andotheraecomplish-
ments. Between the master and scholar a remarkable
similarity appeared in temper and inclination ; indeed,
in the whole turn of their minds. It was this conge¬
niality of sentiments which animated Rubens with that
ardent passion for the art of painting which at length
determined him to pursue it as a profession. From this
time he gave up his whole mind to it; and so successful
were his exertions, that he soon equalled his master.
In order to arrive at that perfection which he already
beheld in idea, it became requisite to study the produc¬
tions of the most eminent artists. For this purpose he
travelled through Italy, visiting the most valuable col¬
lections of paintings and antique statues with which that
country abounds.
Sandrat, who was intimately acquainted with Ru¬
bens, informs us, that he was recommended in the most
honourable manner to the duke of Mantua by the arch¬
duke Albert, who had witnessed his talents in thefinish-
ing of some fine paintings designed for his own palace.
At Mantua he was received by the duke with the most
flattering marks of distinction, and had opportunities of
improving himself, whit h he did not neglect. Here he
carefully studied the works of Julio Romano. He next
visited Rome, where he had an opportunity of exami¬
ning the productions of Raphael. The paintings of Ti-
tkn and Paolo Veronese called him to Venice, where
he improved himself in the art of colouring.
He continued in Italy seven years. At length re¬
ceiving intelligence that hi mother was taken ill, he
haste'ed to Antwerp : but his filial affection was not
gratified with a sight of her; she died before his arrival.
He married soon after; but his wife dying at the end
of four years, he retired from Antwerp for some time,
and endeavoured to soothe his melancholy by a journey
to Holland. At Utrecht he visited Hurtort, whom he
greatly esteemed.
The fame of Rubens was now spread over Europe.
He was invited by Mary of Medicis queen of Henry
IV. of France to Paris, where he painted the galleries
in the palace of Luxembourg. These form a series of
paintings which delineate the history of Mary ; and af¬
ford a convincing proof how well qualified he was to
excel in allegorical and emblematical compositions.
While at Paris he became acquainted with the duke of
Buckingham, who was so taken with his great talents
and accomplishments, that he judged him well qualified
to explain to Isabella, the wife of Albert the archduke
thecauseofthemisunderstandingwhich had taken place
between the courts of England and Spain. In this em¬
ployment Rubens acquitted himself with such propriety,
that Isabella appointed him envoy to the king of Spain,
with a commission to propose terms of peace, and to
bring back the instructions of that monarch. Philip
was no less captivated with Rubens: he conferred on
him the honour of knighthood, and made him secretary
to his privy council. Rubens returned to Brussels, and
thence passed over into England in 1630 with a com¬
mission from the Catholic king to negociate a peace be¬
tween the two crowns. He was successful in his nego-
ciation, and a treaty was concluded. Charles I. who
then filled the British throne, could not receive Rubens
in a public character on account of his profession ; ne¬
vertheless, he treated him with every mark of respect.
Having engaged him to paint some of the apartments of
Whitehall, he not only gave him a handsome sum of
money, but, as an acknowledgment of his merit, crea¬
ted him a knight; and the duke of Buckingham, his
friend and patron, purchased of him a collection of pic¬
tures, statues, medals, and antiques, with the sum of
L. 10,000.
He returned to Spain, where he was magnificently
honoured and rewarded for his services. Fie was cre¬
ated a gentleman of the king’s bedchamber, and named
secretary to the council of state in the Netherlands.
Rubens, however, did not lay aside his profession. He
returned to Antwerp, where he married a second wife
called Helena Forment, who, being an eminent beauty,
helped him much in the figures of his women. He
died on SOthMay 1640, in the 63d year of his age;
leaving vast riches to his children. Albert his eldest
son succeeded him in the office of secretary of state in
Flanders.
As Rubens was possessed of all the ornaments and
advantages that render a man worthy to be esteemed or
courted, he was always treated as a person of conse¬
quence. His figure was noble, his manners engaging,
and his conversation lively. His learning was universal.^
Though his favourite study must have occupied him
much, yet he found time to read the works of the most
celebrated authors, and especially the poets. He spoke
several languages perfectly, and was an excellent states¬
man.
His house at Antwerp was enriched with every thing
in the arts that was rare and valuable. It contained
one spacious apartment, in imitation of the rotunda at
Rome, adorned with a choice collection of pictures
which
Rubetra.
HUB [ 336 ] BUB
which he hnd purchased ir Italy ; part of which he sold
to the duhe of Buckingham.
His genius qualified him to excel equally in every
thing that c m enter into the composition of a picture.
His invention was so fertile, that, if he had occasion to
paint the same subject several times, his imagination al¬
ways supplied him with something striking and new.
The attitudes of his figures are natural and varied, the
carriage of die head is peculiarly graceful, and his ex¬
pression noble and animated.
He is by all allowed to have carried the art of co1 Dur¬
ing to its highest pitch ; he understood so thoroughly
the true principles of the chiaro-scuro, that he gave to
his figures the utmost harmony, and a prominence re¬
sembling real life. His pencil is mellowed, his strokes
bold and easy, bis carnation glows with life, and his
drapery is simple, but grand, broad, and hung with
much skill.
The great excellence of Rubens appears in his grand
compositions : for as they are to be viewed at a di¬
stance, he laid on a proper body of colours with un¬
common boldness, and fixed all his tints in their pro¬
per places; so that he never impared their lustre by
breaking or torturing them ; but touched them in such
a manner as to give them a lasting force, beauty, and
harmony.
It is generally allowed, that Rubens wanted correct¬
ness in drawing and designing ; some of his figures be¬
ing heavy and too short, and the limbs in some parts not
being justly sketched in the outline. Though he had
spent seven years in Italy in studying those antiques by
which other celebrated artists had modelled their taste;
though he had examined them with such minute atten¬
tion as not only to perceive their beauties, but to be
qualified to describe them in a Dissertation which he
wrote on that subject: yet he seems never to have di¬
vested himse’f of that heavy styleof painting, which,be-
ing peculiar to his native country, he had insensibly ac¬
quired. The astonishing rapidity too with which he
painted, made him fall into inaccuracies, from which
those works that he finished with care are entirely ex¬
empted.
Among his finished pieces may be mentioned the
Crucifixion of Jesus Christ between the Two Thieves,
which was very lately to be seen at Antwerp : but of
all his works the paintings in the palace of Luxembourg
best display his genius and his style.
It is the observation of Algarotti, that-he was more
moderate in his movements than Tintoretto, and more
soft in his chiaro-scuro than Carravaggio; but not so
rich in his compositions, nor so light in his touches, as
Paolo Veronese; in his carnations less true than Titian,
and less delicate than Vandyck. Yet he contrived to
give his colours the utmost transparency and harmony,
notwithstanding the extraordinary deepness of them ;
and hepossessed a strength and grandeur of style which
were entirely his own.
F'UBIA, Madder; a genus of plants belonging to
the tetrandria cla-s ; and in the natural method ranking
under the 47th order, Stella tee. See Botany Index ;
and for an account of the use of madder as a dye-stuff,
see Dyeing Index.
Madder-root is tlso ured in medicine. The virtues
attributed to it ime those of a detergent and aperient;
whence it has been usually ranked among the opening
roots, and recommended in obstructions of the viscera,
pai*ticularly of the kidneys, in coagulations of the blood
from falls or bruises, in the jaundice, and beginning
dropsies.
This root, taken internally, tinges the urine of a deep
red co’our; and in the Philosophical Transactions we
have an account of its producing a like effect upon the
bones of animals who had it mixed with their food : all
the bones, particularly the more solid ones, were said to
be changed, both externally and internally, to a deep
red ; but neither the fleshy nor cartilaginous parts suf¬
fered any alterations : some of these bones macerated in
water for many weeks together, and afterwards steeped
and boiled in spirit of wine, lost none of their colour,
nor communicated any tinge to the liquors. This root,
therefore, was concluded to be possessed of great sub-
tilty of parts, and its medical virtues hence to deserve
inquiry. The same trials, however, made by others,
have not been found toproduce the same effects as those
above mentioned.—Of late the root has come into great
reputation as an emmenagogue.
RUBININSKA, one of the northern provinces of
Russia, bounded by the province of Dwina on the
north, by Syrianes on the east, by Belozei’a on the
south, and by the lake Onega on the west.
RUBRIC, in the canon law, signifies a title or ar¬
ticle in certain ancient law-books ; thus called because
written, as the titles of the chapters in our ancient
bibles are, in i*ed letters.
RUBUS, the Bramble, or Raspberry-bush; a ge¬
nus of plants belonging to the icosandria class ; and in
the natural method ranking under the 35th order, Senti-
cosce. See Botany Index. The principal species is
the common raspberry, which, with its varieties, de¬
mands culture in every garden for their fruit; parti¬
cularly the common red kind, white sort, and twice-
bearing raspberry ; all of which are great bearers; but
for the general plantations, we choose principally the
common red and the v/hite kind, as being generally
the greatest bearers of all; planting also a share of the
twice-bearing sort, both as a curiosity and for the
sake of its autumnal crops of fruit, which in favour¬
able seasons ripen in tolerable perfection; observing
to allow all the sorts some open exposure in the kitchen
garden, though they will prosper in almost any situa¬
tion.
The other species are considered as plants of variety,
for hardy plantations in the shrubbery. Some of them
are also very ornamental flowering plants ; particularly
the Virginian flowering raspberry, and the double-blos¬
somed bramble, which answer well for ornamental com¬
partments ; and the white-berried bramble, which is a
great curiosity. All the other species and varieties serve
to diversify large collections.
RUBY, a species of precious stone, belonging to the
siliceous genus. See Mineralogy/Heka\ The ruby
is of various colours ; as, of a deep red colour inclining
a little to purple; the carbuncle of Pliny ; the spinel),
of the colour of a bright corn poppy flower; the balass
or pale red inclining to violet. Tavernier and Dutens
inform us that in the East Indies all coloured gems are
named rubies, without regard to what their colours may
be ; and that the particular colour is added to the name
of each in order to distinguish them from one another
The spinnel rubies are above half the value of diamonds
Itullll
Ruby.
HUD [ 337 ] li U D
iby of the same weight • the balass is valued at 30 shillings
per carat. Tavernier mentions 108 rubies in the throne
] Ider. 0f tf,e Great Mogul, from 100 to- 200 carats, and of a
^ rm0> round one almost 2^ ounces : there is also mention made
by other travellers of rubies exceeding 200 carats in
weight. According to Dutens, a perfect ruby, if it
weigh more than 3^ carats, is of greater value than a
diamond of the same weight. If it weigh one carat, it
is worth ten guineas ; if two carats, 40 guineas; three
carats, 150 guineas; if six carats, upwards of 1000
guineas.
Rubies, it is said, are artificially made from Brasilian
topazes of a smoky appearance, by giving them a gra¬
dual heat in a crucible filled with ashes, until it be red
hot.
Iiock liuBY, the amethystizonlas of the ancients, is
* found in Syria, Calcutta, Cananor, Cam bay a, and E-
thiopia. It is the most valued of all the varieties of gar¬
nets, and is frequently sold as a ruby under the name of
rubinus Russicum.
RUCTATION, a ventosity arising from indigestion,
and discharging itself at the mouth with a very disagree¬
able noise.
RUDBECK, Olaus, a learned Swedish physician,
born of an ancient and noble family in 11)30. He be¬
came professor of medicine at Upsal, where he acquired
great applause by his extensive knowledge; and died in
1702. His principal works are, Exercilalio anato-
tnicdy exhibens ductus vovos hepalicos aquosos, et vusa
glatidularum serosa, in 4to. He there asserts his claim
to the discovery of the lymphatic vessels, against the
pretensions of Thomas Bartholin. 2. Athlaniica, sive
Manheim, vera Japheti posterorum sedes ac patria, 4 vols.
folio, is full of strange paradoxes suppoited w’ilh pro¬
found learning : he there endeavours to prove, that
Sweden was the country whence all the ancient Pagan
divinities and our first parents were derived ; and that
the Germans, English, French, Danes, Greeks, and
Romans, with all other nations, originally came from
thence.
RUDBECK I A, a genus of plants belonging to the
syngenesia class; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 49th order, Compositoe. See Botany Index.
RUDDER, in Navigation, a piece of timber turning
on hinges in the stern of the ship, and which, opposing
sometimes one side in the water and sometimes another,
turns or directs the vessel this way or that. See
Helm.
In the seventh volume of the Transactions of the So¬
ciety instituted at London tor the Encouragement of
Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce, there is explained
a method of supplying the loss of a ship’s rudder at sea.
The invention, which is Capt. Pakenham’s of the royal
navjg has been approved by Admiral Cornwallis, the
commissioners of the admiralty, by the society in whose
transactions the account of it was first published, and
who presented to Capt. Pakenham their gold medal,
by the Trinity-house, by the managing owners of East
India shipping, by the duke of Sudermania then regent
of Sweden, and by the society for the improvement of
naval architecture. The substitute here recommended
for a lost rudder, says the inventor, is formed of those
materials without which no ship goes to sea, and its
construction is simple and speedy. Capt. Pakenham,
however, did not give a particular account ©f his inven-
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
tion to the society whom he addressed, and to whom he Rudder,
sent a model of his invention, till such time as he had an
opportunity of reducing the theory he had conceived to
practice. On the 7th of July 1788, he made this trial
with the Merlin of Newfoundland; and he declares
that, during the different manoeuvres of tacking and
wearing, he could not discover the least variation be¬
tween the operation of the machine and that of the
ship’s rudder: she was steered with the same ease by one
man, and answered the helm in every situation fully as
quick. Admiral Cornwallis certifies the same with re¬
spect to the Crown of 64 guns, which lost her rudder
on the Kentish Knock, when with the substitute she was
steered to Portsmouth with the utmost ease in a heavy
gale, and, as the admiral asserts, it would have taken
her to the East Indies. pjate
The materials and construction are thus described in cCcclxvi,
the Transactions. “ N° 1. A topmast inverted ; the fid-
hole to ship the tiller in, and secured with hoops from
the anchor stocks; the heel forming the head of the
rudder. N° 2. The inner half of a jibb-boom. N° 3.
The outer half of a jibb-boom. N° 4. A fish: the
whole of these materials well bolted together:—in a
merchantman her ruff-tree. N° 5. A cap, with the
square part cut out to fit the stem-post, and acting as a
lower gudgeon, secured to the stern-post with hawsers,
leading from the bolts of the cap, under the ship’s bot¬
tom, into the hawse-holes, and hove well tort. N° 6.
A plank, or, if none on board, the ship’s gangboards.
N° 7. Anchor-stocks, made to fit the topmast as part¬
ners, secured to the deck, and supplying the place of
the upper gudgeon, and in a merchant ship the clamps
of her windlass. N° 8. A stern-post. N° 9. Hoops
from the anchor-stocks. N° 10. Pigs of ballast, to sink
the lower part. The head of the rudder to pass through
as many decks as you wish.”
On this the Captain makes the following remarks :
“ It might probably be supposed, that a difficulty
would occur in bringing the jaws of the cap to embrace
the stern-post; but this will at once be obviated, when
it is remembered that the top-chains, or hawsers, lead¬
ing from each end of the jaws, under the ship’s bottom,
are in fact a continuance of the jaws themselves. Nor
can it be apprehended that the cap, when fixed, may
be impelled from its station, either by the efforts of the
sea, or the course of the ship through the water, though
even the hawsers, which confine it in the fiist instance,
should be relaxed :—the experiment proves, that the
partners must be first torn away, or the main-piece bro¬
ken off.
“ Since the improved state of navigation, notwith¬
standing remedies have been found in general for the
most disastrous accidents at sea, experience has evinced
that nothing complete had been hitherto Invented to
supply the loss of a rudder. The first expedient within
my knowledge were cables veered astern, with tackles
leading from them to the ship’s quarters. This prac- ice
was superseded by the invention of the machine usually
called tlte Ipswich machine ; but the-construction of it is
complex and unwieldy, and vessels are seldom found in
possession of the materials which forms it. Commodore
Byron, -in the Journal of his Voyage round the World,
says, that the Tamer, with every assistance from his own
ship, was five days in constructing it. Besides, like the
before-mentioned scheme, it can only operate to steer a
t U u ship
K-utkkr,
UuddimaH,
R U D [ 338 ] HUD
ship large (and that but very wildly), and of course,
under the circumstance of a lee-shore, defeat the most
skilful exertions of a seaman. Several other expedients
have been adopted, which I shall not mention here, as
the same defects equally appear in all.
“ Thus it wras apparent, that ample room was left for
the discovery of some more certain resource than any of
the former; and the scheme which has suggested itself
to me, will, I trust, be found fully to answer the pur¬
pose intended. The materials are such as scarcely any
ship can venture to sea without; and the construction
so speedy, easy, and simple, that the capacity of the
meanest sailor will at once conceive it. I need not, from
mathematical principles, show the certainty of its effect,
as it is formed and managed in the same manner as n
ship’s common rudder: and as the common rudder is
certainly of all inventions the best calculated for guiding
a vessel through the water, it will of course follow, that
whatever substitute the nearest, resembles that, must be
best adapted to supply its loss.”
RUDDIMAN, Thomas, one of the most eminent
grammarians which Scotland has produced, was born
in October IbT'i at Raggel, in the parish of Boyndie
and county of Banff. His father James Ruddiman
■was a farmer, and strongly attached to the house of
•Stuart.
Mr Ruddiman was instructed in the principles of La¬
tin grammar at the parish school of Boyndie, where his
application w'as so vigorous, and his progress so rapid,
that he quickly surpassed all his class fellows. His
master George Morrison, who was a skilful and atten¬
tive teacher*, being unwilling to check his ardour for
learning, permitted him to follow the impulse of his ge¬
nius, and to advance without waiting the slow progress
of the other boys.
The pleasure which the youthful mind receives from
vivid description, though wild and romantic, approaches
to ecstasy, and often makes an impression which remains
indelible. While at school, the first book which charm¬
ed the opening mind of Ruddiman was Ovid’s Metamor-
•phoses; nor did he cease to relish the beauties of this
author when his judgment was mature, for during the
rest of his life Ovid was his favourite poet.
At the age of sixteen he became anxious to pursue
his studies at the university; but his father thinking
him too young, opposed his inclination. Hearing of the
competition trial, which w*as annually held at King’s
college, Aberdeea, for a certain number of bursaries on
the f oundation of that university, Ruddiman’s ambition
was kindled. Without the knowledge of his father,
and with only a single guinea in his pocket, which his
sister had privately given him, he set out for that place.
On the road he was met by a company of gypseys, who
robbed him of his coat, his shoes, his stockings, and his
guinea. This misfortune did not damp his enterprising
spirit: He continued his journey to Aberdeen, present¬
ed himself before the professors as a candidate; and,
though he had neither clothes to give him a decent ap¬
pearance nor friends to recommend him, he gained the
first prize.
After attending the university four years, he obtained
the degree of master of ai ts ; an honour of v/hich he wa s
always proud. The thesis says, the disputation on this
occasion lasted ah aurora usque ad vesperum, i. e. “ from
morning till night.” Though Ruddiman was only SO
years of age when he left the university, it appears from Mdiina ,
a book intitled likeloricorum Lihri tres, composed be-
fore this period, but never published, that he had then
read the Roman classics with uncommon attention and
advantage.
He was soon after engaged as a tutor to the son of
Robert Young, Esq. of Auldbar, the great grandson of
Sir Peter Young, who under the direction of Buchanan
had been preceptor of James VI. His income here must
have been very small, or his situation unpleasant; for
within a year he accepted the office of schoolmaster in
the parish of Laurencekirk. The profession of school¬
master in a country parish at that period could open no
field for ambition, nor prospect of great emolument;
for by an act. of parliament passed in 1633, the salary
appropriated to this office could not be increased above
200 merks Scots, or L.l 1, 2s. 2§d. sterling. In dischar¬
ging the duties of this humble but important station, it
is probable that he used Simson’s Rudimenta Gramma-
iica, which was then generally taught in the northern
schools, and by which he himself had been instructed in
the principles of Latin grammar.
W’hen Ruddiman had spent three years and a half in
this employment, the celebrated Dr Pitcairne happen¬
ing to pass through Laurencekirk, was detained in that
village by a violent storm. Pitcairne wanting amuse¬
ment, inquired at the hostess if she could procure any
agreeable companion to bear him company at dinner.
She replied, that the schoolmaster, though young, was
said to be learned, and, though modest, she was sure
could talk. Pitcairne was delighted with the conversa¬
tion end learning of his new* companion, invited him to
Edinburgh, and promised him his patronage.
WhenRuddiman arrived in Edinburgh, the advocates
library, which had been founded 18 years before by Sir
George Mackenzie, attracted his curiosity and attention,
and he was soon after appointed assistant-keeper under
Mr Spottiswoode the principal librarian. His salary for
executing this laborious office was L.8, 6s. 8d. He had
besides a small honorary present from those who were
admitted advocates for correcting their theses : he was
also paid for copying manuscripts for the use of the li¬
brary. And the faculty, before he had held the office
two years, were so highly pleased with his conduct, that
they made him a present of 50 pounds Scots, or L.4,
3s. 4d. sterling.
During the sitting of the court of session he attended
the library from ten till three. But this confinement
did not prevent him from engaging in other laborious
duties: A part of his time was occupied in teaching
young gentlemen the Latin language. Somehe attend¬
ed at their lodgings, some waited upon him, and some
resided in his own house. An exact list of the names of
those who attended him, expressing the date of their en¬
try, and the sums which he was to receive from each,
has been found in his pocket-book; a curious relick,
which is still preserved.
When Ruddiman’s merit as a scholar became better
known, his assistance was anxiously solicited by those
who were engaged in literary publications. Freebairne,
a respectable bookseller of that period, prevailed upon
him to correct and prepare for the press Sir Robert
Sibbald’s Introdudio ad historiam rerum d Romanis ges-
tarum in ca Borealis Britannia; parte qua; ultra murum
Ricticum est. He received for his labour L.3 sterling.
At
11 U D [ 839 ] HUD
flu man. At the request of Mr Spottiswoorle librarian, for 5l.
sterling he contributed his aid to the publication of
Sir Robert Spottiswoode’s Practiques of the Laws of
Scotland.
In 1707 he commenced auctioneer, an employment
not very suitable to the dignified character of a man of
letters : but to this occupation he was probably impel¬
led by necessity; for upon balancing Ids accounts at
the end of the preceding year, the whole surplus was
S8l. 2s. with prospects of 2861. 7s- 6d. Scots. Rud-
diman had a family; and seems to have been a stranger
tothat foolish pridewhichhas seducedsome literarymen
into the opinion, that it is more honourable to starve
than have recourse to an occupation which men of rank
and opulence are accustomed to despise. The same year
he published an edition of Voluscni de Aninii Tranqml-
titate Dialogus, to which he prefixed the life of Volme¬
nus. Volusenus or Wilson was a learned Scotsman, and
had the honour to be patronised by Cardinal Wolsey
(See Wilson). In 1709 he published Johnstoni Cantici
Solomonis Paraphrasis Poetica, and Johnstoni Cantica
with notes, which he dedicated in verse to his
friend and patron Dr Pitcairne. The'edition consist¬
ed of 200 copies. The expence of printing amounted
to 51. 10s. sterling, and he sold them at a shilling each
copy.
The philological talents of Ruddiman were next di¬
rected to a more important object, in which they be¬
came more conspicuous and useful. Freebairne the
bookseller proposed to publish a new edition of the Scot¬
tish translation of Virgil’s iEneid by Gawin Douglas
bishop of Dunkeld. Of the contributions which some
eminent characters of the age presented, the most va¬
luable were supplied by Ruddiman. Freebairne ac¬
knowledged in general terms this obligation, but has
not clone him the justice to inform the readerwhat these
valuable contributions were, and Ruddiman’s modesty
restrained him from publicly asserting his claim. From
the pocket-book which has been already mentioned, it
appears that Ruddiman corrected the work and wrote
the glossary ; and there is strong reason to believe that
he was the author of the 42 general rules for assisting
the reader to understand the language of Douglas. To
those who wish to be acquainted with the ancient lan¬
guage of this island, the glossary will be a treasure, as
it forms a compendious dictionary of the Anglo-Saxon.
For this elaborate work Ruddiman was allowed 81. Gs.
8d. sterling.
The reputation of Ruddiman had now extended to a
distance. He wras invited by the magistrates of Dun¬
dee to be rector of the grammar school of that town ;
but the faculty of advocates, anxious to retain him,
augmented his salary to 30l. Gs. 8d. sterling, and he de¬
clined the offer.
In 1711 he assisted Bishop Sage in publishing Drum¬
mond of Hawthornden’s works ; and performed the
same favour to Dr Abercrombie, who was then prepar¬
ing for the press his Martial Atchieveraents.
In 1713 he was deprived of his friend Dr Piicairne. Ruddima*.
On this occasion hetestified all therespectwhich friend- —y—
ship could inspire to the memory of his deceased patron
and surviving family. He composed Pitcaime’s epi¬
taph, and conducted the sale of his library, which was
disposed of to Peter the Great of Russia.
In 1714 the Rudiments of the Latin tongue were
published. Eighteen or nineteen Latin grammars, com¬
posed by Scoiehmen, had appeared before this period ;
yet such is the intrinsic value of this little treatise, that
it soon superseded all other books on the subject, and is
now taught in all the grammar schools in Scotland. It
lias also been translated into other langu ages.
Fie was next called upon to publish the works of
Buchanan. The value of these he enhanced much by
an elaborate preface, his Tabula Regum Scoliae Chwno-
lo^ica and Prnpriorum Nominum Interpretalio. The in-
terpretation of proper names was highly requisite ; for
Buchanan has so disguised them in the Roman dress,
that the original name is scarcely discernible; and the
preface puis the reader on his guard against the chro¬
nological errors and factious spirit of the history. Rud¬
diman also added a learned dissertation,intitled De Me-
Iris Buchananosis Libellus, and subjoined annotations
critical and political on the Flistory of Scotland. As
he espoused the cause of Queen Mary, he raised against
himself a host of enemies, and gave occasion to that ce¬
lebrated controversy which has been carried on with
much keenness and animosity, and with little intermis¬
sion, even to the present times. For this work Rud-
diman was promised 40l. sterling.
He had now been so long accustomed to superintend
the press, that be w7as led to form the plan of erecting a
printing-office himself (a). Accordingly, in the year
1715, he commenced printer in partnership with his
brother Walter, who had been regularly bred to the
business. Some years after ha was appointed printer
to the university, along with James Davidson book¬
seller.
The first literary society formed in Scotland was in¬
stituted in the year 1718. It probably derived its ori¬
gin from the factious and turbulent spirit of the times.
The learned, anxious perhaps to find some respite from
the political dissensions of the day, endeavoured to pro¬
cure it in elegant amusement; for one of the fundamen¬
tal articles of the new association was, that the affairs
of church and state should not be introduced.’' Ruddi¬
man and the masters of the high-school had the honour
to found this society. They were afterwards joined by
Lord Kaimes.
In 1725, the first part of his Grammuiicce Latina-, In¬
stitution's, which treated of etymology, was published.
The second part, which explained the nature and prin¬
ciples of syntax, appeared in 173'- He also wrote a
third part on prosody, which is said to be more copious
and correct than any other publication on the subject.
When urged to give it to the public, he said dryly,
“ The age has so little taste, the sale woJ.d not pay
U u 2 the
(a) It has long been an object of curiosity to ascertain the time at which the art of printing was introduced
into Scotland. Mr Robertson, the late keeper of the records, discovered a patent of King James IV. which
renders it certain that a printing-press was first established at Edinburgh during the year 1507.'. 30 years af¬
ter Caxton had brought it into England. See Puintino.
BUD
RtuWiman. the expenee.” Of this work he published an abridge-
ment, to which he subjoined an abstract of his pro-
sody.
840 ] BUD
the mean time marked with a jealous eye. His soaf> Jtuddim!;
who had for some time been the principal manager of wr*
that newspaper, having copied a paragraph which was
reckoned seditious from an English paper, was impri¬
soned. The solicitation of his father procured his re¬
lease : but it was too late ; for the unhappy young man
had contracted a distemper in the tolbooth of Edinburgh
which brought him to his grave.
During the last seventeen years of his life Ruddiman
was almost incessantly engaged in controversy. To this
he was in some measure compelled by the violent at¬
tacks which some critics of the times had successively
Ruddiman next engaged in the management of a
newspaper, an employment for which his genius and in¬
dustry seemed to render him well qualified. But those
who should expect either much information or amuse¬
ment from this publication, would perhaps be greatly
disappointed. The newspaper which he conducted was
the Caledonian Mercury, and was established in 1720
by William Rolland a lawyer. Ruddiman acted only
in the capacity of printer for five years ; but upon the
death of Mr Rolland in J 729, the property was trans¬
ferred to him, or to his brother Walter and him con-   , . „ „ , * i T u «- .
iunctlv This paper continued in the f'amilv of Ruddi- comparative merit of Buchanan and , ohnston as poe.s.
man till the year 1772, when it was sold by the trus- He gave a decided preference to Buchanan m perspi-
tees of his grand-children. cuity, purity, and variety of style; but, like a candid
The Caledonian Mercury was at first printed three critic, allowed Johnston to be superior in the harmony
times a week, on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, in of his numbers. His next antagonist was Logan, one
a small 4to of four pages, with two columns in each of the ministers of Edinburgh, a weak illiterate man,
pao-e and 50 lines in each column ; so that the who’e but an obstinate polemic. The subject of contest was,
paper contained only 400 lines. It now contains in its wdiether the crown of Scotland wa^stnctly h^editary,
folio size 2480 lines.
made upon his works. He was first called upon by
Benson, auditor in the exchequer, to determine the
Mr Ruddiman, after the death of Mr Spottiswoode
librarian, remained for some time in his former station;
but was at length appointed keeper of the library;
though -without any increase of salary ; and some years
after Mr Goodal, the defender of Queen Mary, suc¬
ceeded him in the office of sub-librarian.
and whether the birth of Robert III. was legitimate ?
Ruddiman maintained the affirmative in both points,
and certainly far surpassed hisantagonist in the powers of
reasoning. He proved the legitimacy of Robert by the
public records of the kingdom with a force of argument
which admits of no reply ; but in discussing the first
question (by which he was led to consider the contest
The assiduous application of Ruddiman, supported by between Bruce and Bahol) he was not so successful:
such learning, was intitled to wealth, which now indeed for there are many instances m the history ot Scotland
flowed upon him in what was at that period deemed in which the hi other succeeded to the crown in prefe-
great abundance. On the first of October 1735, it ap- rence to the son. He showed, however, that the bcot-
peared from an exact statement of his affairs, that he tish crown was at no period properly elective; and that,
was worth L.1882 5s. 2d. sterling ; and on the 20th of according to the old licentious constitution ot the king-
May the ensuing year, his wealth had increased to dom, the right of Brucej who was the nearest in blood
L 1985 6s 3d sterling. In 1 710 he valued his effects to the royal stock, was preferable to the claim of Bahol
at L.24 14s. 9d. sterling. though descended from the eldest daughter.
In 1737 the schoolmasters and teachers in Edinburgh But the labours of liuddiman did not end when the
formed themselves into a society, in order to establish pen dropt from the feeble hand of Logan. He was soon
a fund for the support of their wives and children. Of called upon to repel the attacks of Love schoolmaster ot
this scheme Ruddiman was an active promoter, and was Dalkeith, who maintained, in opposition to him, that
- ■ ’• • ' Buchananhad neither repented of histreatment of Queen
Mary, nor had been guilty of ingratitude to that prin¬
cess. That Buchanan ever repented there is reason to
doubt. Whether he was guilty of ingratitude, let the
unbiassed determine, when they are assured by authen¬
tic records that Mary conferred on him a pension for
life of 500 pounds Scots.
When Ruddiman had arrived at his eightieth year,
and was almost blind, he was assailed by James Man,
master of an hospital at Aberdeen, with a degree of ran-
chosen treasurer. Pe. haps it was this association which
in 1742 gave the idea to the Scots clergy of forming
their widows fund.
in 1739 he published Selcclus Diplomalum et Numis-
matum Scotia Thesaurus. This work was projected
and begun by Anderson (hence called Anderson’s Di-
plomata), but was finished by Ruddiman. The pre¬
face, which is an excellent commentary on Anderson’s
performance, was written by Ruddiman, and displays
a greater extent of knowledge than any of his other
productions. four and virulence, united with some learning and abi-
As Ruddiman had imbibed from his father those po- lity, which must have touched him in a sensible manner,
litical principles which attached him to the family of and alarmed his fears for his reputation after his de-
Stuart, he probably did not remain an unconcerned cease. He was called ajinished pedant, a furious cahm-
spectator of the civil commotions which in 1745 agita- niator, and a corrupter of Buchanan 's works. The ve-
ted Scotland. He did not, however, take any active
part in the rebellion. His principles, he has been heard
to say, induced him to be a quiet subject and a good ci¬
tizen. He retired to the country during the summer
of 1745; and while his fellow-citizens were spilling each
others blood, he was move happily engaged in writing
Critical Observations on Burmaifs Commentaries on
Lucan’s Pharsai'a. The Caledonian Mercury was in
nerable old man ‘ gain put on his armour, entered the
lists, and gained a complete victory. Man, with all his
acuteness, could only point out twenty errors in two
folio volumes. Some of these were typographical, some
trifling, and some doubtful. Ruddiman, with much
pleasantry, drew up against Man an account of 469 er¬
rors, consisting of 14 articles, of which two or three
may be produced as a specimen,. 1, Falsehoods and pre-
yaricitions^
11 IT D [ 341 ] HUE
Hud nan, valuations, 20. 2. Absurdities, 6q. S. Passages from
liiulfieim. Plassic authors which were misunderstood by Man, 10.
w w 'j’jjg triumph which he gained over this virulent ad¬
versary he did not long enjoy; for he died at Edin¬
burgh on the 19th of January 1757, in the 8.cjd
year of his age, and was buried in the Grey Friars
churchyard without any monument to distinguish his
grave.
He was three times married, but left behind him on¬
ly one daughter, Alison, who was married in 1747 to
James Stewart, Esq. He is supposed to have died worth
L.3000 sterling.
He was of the middle size, of a thin and straight
make, and had eyes remarkably piercing. Of his ta¬
lents and learning his works afford the most satisfactory
proofs. His memory -was tenacious and exact. He
could repeat long passages of his favourite poet Ovid,
to the amount of 60 lines, and without omitting a word.
He was so great a mas‘er in the Latin language, that
he has perhaps been equalled by none since the days of
Buchanan.
Ruddiman has left a chai’acter unstained by vice, and
distinguished by many virtues. His piety was exam-
plary. He spent Sunday in religious employment; and
we are informed had prayers read to him every morn¬
ing by his amanuensis when the infirmities of age re¬
quired such an assistant. He was frugal of his time,
neither indolent nor fond of amusement; and so remar¬
kably temperate, that it is said he was never intoxicated.
Though often forced into controversy, and treated with
insolence, he never descended toscurrilityand abuse,nor
cherished resentment against his enemies. His candour
was much admired in one instance in the favourable
character which he published in the Caledonian Mer¬
cury of his antagonist Love (n), after his decease.
Upon the whole, it must be allowed that Ruddiman
has been of great service to classical literature, ami an
honour to his native country.
RUDESHEIM, a rich village of the Rhinegau,
situated about five miles from the city of Mentz, con¬
tains about 2500 inhabitants. The wine of this place
is looked upon as without comparison the best of the
Rhinegau, and consequently of all Germany. Baron
Riesbeck says, he found it much more fiery than that of
Hochheim; but that for pleasantness of taste there is
no comparison betwixt them. The best Rudesheim,
like the best Hoehheimer, sells upon the spot for three
guilders the bottle. “ You can (says our author) have
no tolerable wine here for one guilder, nor any very
good for two ; at least I should prefer the worst Bur¬
gundy I ever tasted to any Rudesheimer I met. with ei¬
ther here or at Mentz for these prices. Indeed the
wine of our host (a rich ecclesiastic) was far better
than any we could get at the inn. It stands to reason,
that the same vintage furnishes grapes of very difFesent
degrees of goodness ; but besides this, it is in the Rhi¬
negau as every where else. The best wines are gene- fiudesheim
rally sent abroad by the poor and middling inhabitants, II
and the worst kept for internal Consumption; for the ex- Rue"
pence of the carriage being the same in loth cases,
strangers had much rather pay a double price fur the
go od than have the bad. It is only rich people, such
as our host was, who can afford to keep the produce of
their laud for their own drinking. Upon this princi¬
ple, I have eaten much better Swiss cheeses out of
Switzerland than in it, and have drank much better
RhenLh in the inns of the northern parts of Germany
than in the country where the wine grows. The posi¬
tion of the country also contributes to render the wine
dearer than it would otherwise be. As the best wine
grows in its more northern parts, the easy transport by
tire Rhine to Holland, and all parts of the world,
raises its price above its real value. The place where
the flower of the Rudesheim wine grows is precisely the
neck of the land, formed by the winding of the Rhine
to the north, after it has run to the westward from Mentz
hither. This neck, which is a rock almost perpendicu¬
lar, enjoys the first rays of the rising and the last of
the setting sun. It is divided into small low terraces,
which are carried up to the utmost top of the hill like
steep stairs; these are guarded by small walls and
earthen mounds, which are often washed away by the
rain. The first vine was brought hither from France,
and they still call the best grape the Orleannois. They
plant the vine stocks very low, scarce ever more than
four or five feet high. This way of planting the vine
is favourable to the production of a great deal of wine,
but not to its goodness, as the phlegmatic and harsh
parts of it would certainly evaporate more, if the sap
were refined through higher and more numerous canals.
This is undoubtedly the reason why every kind of Rhe¬
nish has something in it that is harsh, sour, and wa¬
tery. The harvest of the best vineyards, which are the
lower ones, in the above mentioned neck of land, is
often bought before-hand, at the advanced price of
some ducats, by Dutch and other merchants. It must
be a very rich stock to yield above four measures of
wine.—You may easily imagine, that the cultivation of
vineyards must be very expensive in this country, as
the dung, which is extremely dear, must be carried
up to the top of the mountains on the peasants shoul¬
ders.”
RUDIMENTS, the first principles or grounds of any
art or science, called also the elements thereof.
RUE. See Ruta, Botany I?idex,
Rue, Charles de la, a French orator and poet, was
born at Paris in 1643. He was educated at the college
of the Jesuits, where he afterwards became a piofessor
of humanity and rhetoric. At an early age his talent
for poetry disclosed itself. In 1667* when he was only
24 years old, he composed a Latin poem on the con¬
quests of Louis XIV. which was so much esteemed by
(b) The following character of Love was published in the Caledonian Mercury of the 24th of September 1750.
“ On Thursday morning died at Dalkeith, after a lingering illness, in the 55th year of his age, Mr John Love,
rector of the grammar-school there; who, for his uncommon knowledge in classical learning, his indetatigable
diligence, and strictness of discipline without severity, was justly accounted one of the most sufficient masters
in this country.” This character is doubtless just; though Love is now known to have been the schoolmaster
satirized by Smollet in the beginning of his Roderick Random.
11 U F [ 342-1 R U F
Hue the celebrated Peter Corneille, that he translated it into
11 French, presented it to the king, and at the same time
Rui^ J passed so high encomiums on the superior merit of the
original, that the author was received into the favour of
that monarch, and ever after treated by him with singu¬
lar respect.
De la Rue, anxious to preach the gospel to the Ca¬
nadians, requested leave of absence from his superiors ;
but having destined him for the pulpit, they refused to
comply with his request. Accordingly he commenced
preacher, and became one of the most eminent orators
of his age. In his discourses he .would probably have
been too lavish of his wit, if he had not been Cautioned
against it by a judicious courtier. “ Continue (said he)
to preach as you do. We will hear you with pleasure
ms long as you reason with us ; but avoid wit. We va¬
lue the wit contained in two verses of a song more than
all that is contained in most of the sermons in Lent.”
Respecting the delivery of sermons, he entertained
an opinion quite opposite to the established practice of
his countrymen. In France it was customary not to
read sermons from the pulpit, but to recite them from
memory. This he considered as a laborious task, not
compensated by any advantages. On the contrary, he
was of opinion that reading sermons was preferable.—
The preacher, with his discourse before him, could
read it with ease, free from that timidity and embar¬
rassment which frequently attends the act of recollec¬
tion ; and he would save a considerable time which is
usually spent in committing it to memory. In these
sentiments many will not be disposed to acquiesce: but,
without pretending to determine the question, it n.iy
be asserted, that a sermon, whether read or recited, if
spoken in a serious manner, and with proper inflections
and tones of voice, will produce all the effects for which
a sermon is calculated.
De la Rue died at Paris on the 27th of May 1725,
at the age of 82.
He was as amiable in society as he was venerable in
the pulpit. His conversation was pleasant and instruc¬
tive. His taste and knowledge enabled him to converse
with ease, and to express himself with propriety on every
subject. He charmed his superiors by his wit, and his
inferiors by his affability. Though living amidst the
bustle of the world, he was always prepared for the so¬
litude of the closet and the retreat of the cloister. In
the pulpit he poured forth the finest effusions of elo¬
quence in the most animated and impressive manner.—
He published Panegyrics, Funex*al Orations, and Ser¬
mons. His best sermon is that intitled Des Calu-
mites Publiques, and his most admired funeral oration
was composed on the Prince of Luxembourg. There
are also tragedies of his writing, both in Latin and
French, which were approved by Corneille. He was
one of those who published editions of the classics for
the use of the Dauphin. Virgil, which fell to his share,
was published with notes, and a Life of the Poet, in
1675, 4to, and is a valuable and useful edition.
RUELL1A, a genus of plants belonging to the didy-
namia class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 40th order. Personates. See Botany Index.
RUFF, a species of Perca. See Ichthyology
Index.
Ruff, a species of Tringa. See Ornithology
Index.
RUFFHEAD, Dr Owen, was the son of his Itufflia
Majesty’s baker in Piccadilly; who buying a lottery
ticket for him in his infancy, which happened to be ‘ufinu!
drawn a prize of 5001. this sum was applied to educate ’'T"
him for the law. He accordingly entered in the Mid¬
dle Temple ; and seconded so well the views of his fa¬
ther, that he became a good scholar and an acute bar¬
rister. While he was waiting for opportunities to di¬
stinguish himself in his profession, he wrote a variety ot
pamphlets on the politics of the day; and was afterwards
distinguished by his accurate edition of The Statutes at
Large, in 4to. He now obtained good business, though
more as a chamber counsellor in framing bills for parlia¬
ment than as a pleader; but his close application to stu¬
dy, with the variety of works he engaged in as an au¬
thor, so impaired his constitution, that after the last
exertion of his abilities to defend the conduct of admi¬
nistration toward Mr Wilkes, by a pamphlet ent tied,
“ The Case of the late election for the county of Mid¬
dlesex considered,” he was prevented from receiving the
reward of a place in the Treasury, by dying in 17fl9>
at about 46 years of age. Some time before his death.
Bishop Warburton engaged him to write his long pro¬
mised Life of Alexander Pope ; which, however, when
executed, was very far from giving general satisfaction.
The author attributed his ill success to the deficiency
of his materials'; while the public seemed rather to be of
opinion that, as a lawyer, he ventured beyond his proper
line, when he assumed the task of a critic in poetry.
RUFFLING, or Ruffing, a beat on the drum.
Lieutenant-generals have three ruffles, major-generals
two, brigadiers one, and governors one, as they pass
by the regiment, guard, &c.
RUFINUS was born about the middle of the fourth
century at Concordia, an inconsiderable town in Italy.
At first he applied himself to the belles lettres, and
particularly to the study of eloquence. To accomplish
himself in this elegant art, he removed to Aquileia, a
town at that time so celebrated, that it was called a se¬
cond Rome. Having made himself acquainted with the
polite literature of the age, he withdrew into a mona¬
stery, where he devotedhimself tothe study of theology.
While thus occupied, St Jerome happened to pass
through Aquileia. Rufinus formed an intimate friend¬
ship with him ; but to his inexpressible grief was soon
deprived of the company of his new friend, who conti¬
nued his t ravels through France and Germany, and then
set out for the east. Rufinas, unableto bear his absence,
resolved to follow him. Accordingly he embarked for
Egypt; and having visited the hermits who inhabit the
deserts of that country, he repaired to Alexandria to
hear the renowned Didymus. Here he was gratified
with a sight of St Melania, of whose virtue and charity
he had heard much. The sanctity of his manners soon
obtained the confidence of St Melania, which continued
without interruption during their residence in the east,
a period of 30 years. The Asians, who swayed the
ecclesiastical sceptre in the reign of Valens, persecuted
Rufinus with great cruelty. They threw him into a
dungeon, loaded him with chains, and after almost star¬
ving him to death, banished him to the deserts of Pale¬
stine, From this exile he was relieved by the pecuni¬
ary aid of St Melania, who employed her wealth in
ransoming those confessors who had been condemned to
prison or banishment.
St
Ruin?
K u I [ 343 ] K u M
Anus St Jerome, supposing that ItufinuS would immediate- whereof we only perceive the plan to have been square.
|j || ly proceed to Jerusalem, wrote to one of his friends Such also are the ruins of a famous temple, or palace, II
tins, there, congratulating him on the prospect of so illustri- near Schiras, in Persia, which the antiquaries will have Ru'
^ T*'' ous a visitor. To Jerusalem he went, and having built to have been built by Ahasuerus, and which the Per-
a monastery on the mount of Olives, he there as-em- sians now call Tchelminar, or Chelminar; q. d. the 40
bled a great number of hermits, whom he animated to columns; because there are so many columns remaining
virtue by his exhortations. He converted many to the pretty entire, with the traces of others; a great quanti-
Christian faith, and persuaded more than 400 hermits ty of basso-relievos, and unknown characters, sufficient
who had taken part in the schism of Antioch to return to shew the magnificence of the antique architecture,
to the church. He prevailed on many Macedonians The most remarkable ruins now existing of whole el¬
and Arians to renounce their errors. ties are those of Palmvua and Peusepolis, of the
His attachment to the opinions of Origen set him at grandeur of which some idea may be formed from the
variance with St Jerome, who, being of a temper pecu- views given in the plates referred to from these articles
liarly irritable, not only retracted all the praises which to which may be added those of Herculaneum and
he had lavished upon him, but loaded him with severe Pompeii. The magnificent ruins still remaining in
reproaches. Their disputes, which were carried to a Rome, Athens, &c. of particular edifices, as temples,
very indecent height, tended to injure Christianity in palaces, amphitheatres, aqueducts, baths, &c. it were
the eyes of the weak. Theophilus, their mutual friend, endless to enumerate, and beyond the plan of this work
settled their differences ; but the reconciliation was of to represent.
short continuance. Rufinus having published a transla¬
tion of the principles of Origen at Rome, was summon¬
ed to appear before Pope Anastasius. But he made a
specious apology for not appearing, and sent a vindica¬
tion of his work, in which he attempted to prove that
certain errors, of which Origen had been accused, were
perfectly consistent wTifh the opinions of the orthodox.
St Jerome attacked Rufinus’s translation. Rufinus com¬
posed an eloquent reply, in which he declared that he
was only the translator of Origen, and did not consider
himself bound to sanction all bis errors. Most eccle¬
siastical historians say that Rufinus was excommunicated
by Pope Anastasius; but for this no good evidence has
been brought. In 407, he returned to Rome; but the
year after, that city being threatened by Alaric, he re¬
tired to Sicily, where he died in 410.
His works- are, 1. A Translation of Josephus; 2. A
Translation of sevend works of Origen; 3. A Latin
Version of Ten Discourses of Gregory Nazianzen, and
Eight of Basil’s; 4. Cromatius of Aquileia prevailed
on him to undertake a Translation of the Ecclesiastical
History of Eusebius, which engaged him almost ten
years. He made many additions to the body of the
work, and continued the history from the 20th year
of Constantine to the death of Theodosius the Great.
Many parts of this work are negligently written, ma¬
ny things are recorded as facts without any authority
but common report, any many things of great impor¬
tance are entirely omitted. h. A Vindication of Ori¬
gen. 6. Two Apologies addressed to St Jerome. 7.
Commentaries on the prophets Plosea, Joel, and Amos.
8. Lives of the Hermits. 9. An Explanation of the
Creed.
RUGEN, an island in the Baltic sea, on the coast of
Pomerania, over against Stralsund, about 23 miles in
length and 15 in breadth, with the title of a principali¬
ty. It is strong both by art and nature, abounds in corn
and cattle, and now belongs to Prussia. The chief
town is Bergen. E. Long 14. 30. N. Lat. 54. 32.
RUINS, a term particularly used for magnificent
buildings fallen into decay by length of time, and
w hereof there only remains a confused heap o materials.
Such are the ruins of the tower of Babel, of the tower
of Pelus, two days journey from Bagdat, in Syria, on
the banks of the Euphrates ; which are now no more
than a heap of bricks, cemented with bitumen, and
RUIZ I A, a genus of plants belonging to the mo-
nadelphia class; and in the natural method ranking
under the 37th order, Columniferce. See Botany In¬
dex.
RULE, in matters of literature, a maxim, canon,
or precept, to be observed in any art or science.
Rule, in a monastic sense, a system of laws or re¬
gulations, according to which religious houses are go¬
verned, and which the religious make a vow, at their
entrance, to observe. Such are the rules of the Ali¬
gn stines, Benedictines, Carthusians, Franciscans, &c.
See Augustines, &c.
Rules of Court, in Larv, are certain orders made
from time to time in the courts of law, which attorneys
are bound to observe, in order to avoid confusion ; and
both the plaintiff and defendant are at their peril also
bound to pay obedience to rules made in court relating
to the cause depending between them.
It is to be observed, that no court will make a rule
for any thing that may be done in the ordinary course ;
and that if a rule be made, grounded upon an affidavit,
the other side may move the court against it, in order
to vacate the same, and thereupon shall bring into court
a copy of the affidavit and rule. On the breach and
contempt of a rule of court an attachment lies; but it
is not granted for disobedience to a rule, when the parly
has not been personally served; nor for disobeying a
rule made by a judge in his chamber, which is not of
force to ground a motion upon, unless the same be en¬
tered.
A rule of court is granted every day the courts at
Westminster sit, to prisoners of the King’s-bench or
Fleet prisons, to go at large about their private affairs.
Rule of Three. See Arithmetic and Propor¬
tion.
Rule, or Ruler, an instrument of wood or metal,
with several lines delineated on it; of great use in
practical mensuration. When a ruler has the lines of
chords, tangents, sines, & c. it is called a plane scale.
RUM, a species of brandy or vinous spirits, distilled
from sugar-canes.
Rum, according to Dr Shaw, differs from simple
sugar-spirit, in that it contains more of the natural fla¬
vour or essential oil of the sugar-cane ; a great deal of
raw juice and parts of the cane itself being usually fer¬
mented in the liquor or solution of which the rum is
prepared.
R U M [ 344 ] RUN
prepared. The unctuous or oily flavour of rum is often
supposed to proceed from the large quantity of fat used
in boiling the sugar; which fat, indeed, if coarse, will
usually give a stinking flavour to the spirit in our distil¬
lations of the sugar liquor or wash, from our refining
sugar-houses ; but this is nothing of kin to the flavour
of the rum, which is really the effect of the natural
flavour of the cane.
The method of making rum is this : When a sufficient
stock of the materials are got together, they add water
to them, and ferment them in the common method,
though the fermentation is always carried on very slow¬
ly at first; because at the beginning of the season for
making rum in the islands,they want yeast or some other
ferment to make it work : but by degrees, after this,
they procure a sufficient quantity of the ferment, which
rises up as a head to the liquor in the operation; and
thus they are able afterwards to ferment and make their
rum with a great deal of expedition, and in large quan¬
tities.
When the wash is fully fermented, or to a due degree
©f acidity, the distillation is carried on in the common
way, and the spirit is made up proof: though some¬
times it is reduced to a much greater strength, nearly
approaching to that of alcohol or spirit of wine; and
it is then called double-distilled rum. It might be easy
to rectify the spirit, and bring it to much greater pu¬
rity than we usually find it to be of: for it brings over
in the distillation a very large quantity of the oil; and
this is often so disagreeable, that the rum must be suf¬
fered to lie by a long time to mellow before it can be
used ; whereas, if well rectifier!, it would grow mellow
much sooner, and would have a much less potent fla¬
vour.
The best state to keep rum in, both for exportation
and other uses, is doubtless that of alcohol or rectified
spirit. In this manner it would be transported in one
half the bulk it usually is, and might be let down to the
common proof-strength with wrter when necessary : for
the common use of making punch, it would likewise
serve much better in the state of alcohol; as the taste
would be cleaner, and the strength might always be
regulated to a much greater exactness than in the or¬
dinary way.
The only use to which it would not so well serve in
this state, would be the common practice of adultera¬
tion among our distillers; for when they want to mix a
large portion of cheaper spirit with the rum, their busi¬
ness is to have it of the proof-strength, and as full of
the flavouring oil as they can, that it may drown the
flavour of the spirits they mix with it, and extend its
own. If the business of rectifying rum was more nicely
managed, it seems a very practicable scheme to throw
out so much of the oil, as to have it in the fine light
state of a clear-spirit, but lightly impregnated with it:
in this case it v oul l very nearly resemble arack, as is
proved by the mixing a very small quantity of it with a
tasteless spirit, in which case the whole bears a very near
resemblance to arack in flavour.
Hum is usually very much adulterated in Britain-;
some are so bare-faced as to do it with malt-spirit; but
when it is done with molasses spirit, the tastes of both
a' e so nearly allied, that it is not easily discovered. Tire
best method of judging of it is by setting fire to a little
#f it; and, when it has burnt away all the inflamma¬
ble pa: t, examining the phlegm both by the taste and Rum
Smell. 11|
Bum is a considerable island, one of the Hebrides, Rundmag.
or rather one continued rock, of nearly SO miles in cir-
cumference. It is the property of Mr Maclean of Coll;
contains 400 inhabitants ; grazes cattle and sheep ; pays
above 2001. rent annually : but has neither kelp, free¬
stone, nor lime.
RUMELIA, in Geography, the same with ancient
Greece ; now a part of Turkey in Europe.
RUMEN, the paunch, or first stomach of such ani¬
mals as chew the cud ; thence called Ruminant Animals.
See Anatomy, Comparative.
RUMEX, Dock, a genus of plants belonging to the
hexandria class, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 12th order, Holoraccce. See Botany Index.
RUMINANT, in Natural History, is applied to an
animal which chews over again what ithas eaten before :
which is popularly called chewing the cud. Peyer, in a
treatise Re Ruminanlibus el Ruminaiione, shows that
there are some animals which real y ruminate ; as oxen,
sheep, deer, goats, came]s,hares, and squirrels : and that
there are others which only appear to do so, asmoles, cric¬
kets, bees, beetles, crabs, mullets, &c. The latter class,
he observes, have their stomachs composed of muscu¬
lar fibres, by which the food is ground up and down as
in those which really ruminate. Mr Ray observes, that
ruminants are all four-footed, hairy, and viviparous;
some with hollow and perpetual horns, others with deci¬
duous ones.
RUMP of the sacrifice. Moses had ordained,
that the rump and fat of the sheep that were offered for
a peace-offering should be put upon the fire of the altar,
(Lev. iii. p. vii. 3. viii. 25. ix. ip.). The rump was
esteemed the most delicate part of the animal.
RUM PH I A, a genus of plants belongin.pp to the
triandria class, and in the natural method ranking with
those of which the order is doubtlul. See Botany
Index.
RUNCIMAN, Alexander, an eminent Scottish
painter, was born in Edinburgh in the year 173b. He
was the son of an architect, a profession which has a
strong affinity to that of painting. I he opportunity he
thus enjoyed of examining his father’s drawings, gave
him an early propensity to the art in general, which he
very soon evinced by making sketches of any remark¬
able object, either of nature or art, that happened to
come in his way. We are unacquainted w’ith the
gradual progress of his fertile genius ; but it is not to be
supposed that he long remained satisfied with the de¬
lineations of straight lines, while the fascinating beau¬
ties of landscape lay open to his inspection. Water
that falls over a rugged precipice in the form of cas¬
cades, or the foaming surges of the deep when carried
like hoar frost with impetuosity into the air, both asto¬
nish and delight by their awful grandeur. These object-,
and such as these, would natural y fire the genius of
Runchnan at an early period.
He was bound an apprentice to John and Robert Nor-
ries in the year 1750 ; the former of whom was a land¬
scape painter of very considerable eminence, and by his
instructions our youngartistmade rap id progress. About
the year 1755, ’when only iq years of age, he began pro-
-fessionady to paint landscapes ; from which it appeared
that they were by no means first attempts, as they evin-
RUN [ 345 ] Ii U N
Itu man. ced his ardent application to study Leforehe ventured to
U appear at the tribunal of the public. Yet, although these
were excellent, they were nothing more than the dawn
of that distinguished eminence to which he afterwards
attained. His reputation as a painter of landscape con¬
tinued to increase during five years ; but such was the
strength of his genius, and the amazing fertility of his
invention, that he could not rest satisfied with eminence
in a single department. About the year 1760 he suc-
cessfullyattempted historical painting, inw'hichhis mind
had more ample scope than in pourtraying the solemn si¬
lence of a field, a humble cottage, or a shepherd void of
ambition. Six years of his life were devoted to the study
and practice of thisimportantbranch of the art,notwith-
standing his situation was attended with numerous dis¬
advantages. Great, however, as his attainments were in
this department, he never could be satisfied with him¬
self, till he had studied in Italy those masterly perform¬
ances which it was his highest ambition to imitate.
He accordingly set out for Italy in the year 1766,
when just SO years of age, and during a residence of
five years in that enchanting country, where speci¬
mens of his favourite art are met with in all their gran¬
deur and perfection, he continued to copy the best pic¬
tures of the ancient masters, in consequence of which his
taste was very much corrected and improved. His con¬
ceptions ■were also greatly enlarged, by the steady con¬
templation of so many sublimeworks of the greatest and
most celebrated artists. The art of composition, which
it is of the first consequence for an historical painter to
understand, wras only to be acquired from the study of its
principles,as these are exemplified in suchhighly finish¬
ed models ; and to these he applied himself with inde¬
fatigable industry. He caught the rich yet chaste co¬
louring of the Venetian school with such truth, that
he was allowed to surpass all his competitors in this
valuable quality.
In the year 1771, Runciman returned to his native
country, in the full possession of such improvements as
were to be expected from the opportunities he enjoyed,
and also with a judgment very much matured. It will
readily be granted that he had now some claim upon the
patronage of his country, and we are happy to add that
this was not withheld ; for the Honourable Board of
Trustees, and Sir James Clerk of Pennycuick, werea-
mong his patrons ; and to Mr Robert Alexander in par¬
ticular, a respectable merchant in Edinburgh,his coun¬
try was more indebted for the fostering of his rising ge¬
nius, than to the whole of its nobility.
An academy for the study of drawing and painting
was established in Edinburgh by the honourable trus¬
tees for the encouragement of arts in Scotland, of which
De la Cour and Pavilon, two French artists, of some
ability, were successively chosen masters. When Pa¬
vilon died in 1771, an application was made to Run¬
ciman to take charge of the academy, the laborious and
interesting duties of which he discharged much to his
own honour and the benefit of his country.
His masterly work in the Hall of Ossian at Penny¬
cuick, the seat of his patron Sir James Clerk, was pro¬
jected and begun by him soon after his return to Edin¬
burgh. Of this performance, the following account
was given by a very eminent judge.
“ The fate of old Ossian seems to have been pecu¬
liarly happy. Upon the eve of being deserted by trad:-
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
tion, his only preserver, and even by the language if- Runcmaia.
self, the genius of Macpherson, interposed, received the *
charge, and gave him to the world.
“ Fortunate in a translator, the Celtic bard has been
equally so,inreceiving hisfamefrorn thetasteand judge¬
ment of a critic, blest with every valuable quality
and character.
“To complete the honours of the poet, nothing was
wanting, but the attendance of the sister art. It was
therefore with uncommon pleasure, that I heard his be¬
ing adopted by a native artist, under the patronage of a
gentleman, distinguished by a fine taste and warm re¬
gard to the arts. The work, which is now finished, is
the only original performance ever executed in Scot¬
land.”
The next able performance of Runciman was the pic¬
ture of the Ascension, painted on the ceiling above the
altar of the Episcopal Chapel, Cowgate, Edinburgh.
The fire and feeling displayed in his King Lear, were
conceived and executed ina manner not inferior to those
of Shakespeare ; and the Andromeda,from which Legat
took his highly finished engraving, will bear a compari¬
son, in respect of colouring, with the works of Titian or
Coriegio. He appears to have regarded his own histo¬
rical work of Agrippina landing the ashes of Germani-
cus her husband, as a capital performance, in the execu¬
tion of which he bestowed more than ordinary pains ;
and posterity will determine that his opinion was just,
as the ingenious Mr Brown bestowed upon it the
highest encomiums.
While his health permitted (which the painting the
hall of Ossian had much impaired), he continued to su¬
perintend the business of the academy, and devoted his
leisure hours to the drawing of historical pieces. He
enjoyed a competency from his office as teacher, which
with the emoluments arising from his other works, made
him independent. He never formed any matrimonial
connection, but he had a natural son called John, who
was bred to the occupation of a silversmith, and wrent
afterwards to reside in London.
Runciman as a man, wvas possessed of great candour
and simplicity of manners, having a happy talent for
conversation, whichmadesomeof the most distinguished
literary characters, such as Hume, Robertson, Kaimes,
and Monboddo, extremely fond of his company; but
the genuine worth of this eminent man, and his real
goodness of heart, were only fully know n to his most
intimate friends. He could communicate information
with great facility, and gave his best advice to young
artists, with a view to further the progress of their im¬
provement.
As a painter, his character has been elegantly drawn
by a brother artist, the accomplished Mr John Blown,
who was better qualified than most men to make a pro¬
per estimate of his merits. We shall lay this sketch be¬
fore our readers in his own word?.
“ Mr Runciman was an artist by nature, eminently
qualified to excel in all those nobler parts of the art, the
attainment of which depends on the possession of the
highest powersof the mind.—Though for a long period
of years labouring under every possible disadvantage, he
completed works, which upon the whole, are equal to
the best of those of his contemporaries, and in some re¬
spects, it may be boldly asserted, that they are superior.
—His fancy was fertile, his discernment of character
t X x keen.
HUP [ 346 ] 11 IT P
Rtacknah keen, his taste truly elegant, and his conceptions always
. 11 great.—Though his genius seems to be best suited to the
Rupert. gran(| anc] serious, yet many of his works amply prove,
‘""""T'"** that he could move with equal success in the less eleva¬
ted line of the gay and pleasing. His chief excellence
was composition, the noblest part of the art, in which it.
is doubted whether he had any living superior. With
regard to the truth, the harmony, the richness, and the
gravity of colouring ; in that style, in short, which is tb/e
peculiar characteristic of the ancient Venetian, s>nd the
direct contrast to the modern English school,he was un¬
rivalled. Elis works, it must be grantfed, like all those
of the present times, were far from being perfect; but
it was Mr Runciman’s peculiar misfortune, that his de¬
fects were of such a nature, as to be obvious to the
most unskilful.”
The fine arts and his friends weredeprived of this ex¬
traordinary painter, on October 21st 1785.
RUNDLET, or Runlet, a small vessel, contain¬
ing an uncertain quantity of any liquor, from 3 to 20
gallon?.
RUNGS, in a ship, the same with the floor or
ground timbers; being the timbers which constitute
her floor ; and are bolted to the keel, whose ends are
rung-heads.
UxJNG-Heads, in a ship, are made a little bending to
direct the sweep or mold of the futtocks and navel-
timbers ; for here the lines begin which make the com¬
pass and bearing of the ship.
RUNIC, a term applied to the language and letters
of the ancient Goths, Danes, and other northern na¬
tions. See Alphabet.
RUNNER, in the sea-language, a rope belonging to
the garnet and the two bolt-tackles. It is rceived in a
single block joined to the end of a pendant; it has at
one end a hook to hitch into any thing; and, at the
other, a double block, into which is reeved the fall of
the tackle, or the garnet, by which means it purchases
more than the tackle would without it.
RUNNING-thbush, a disease in the feet of horses.
See Farriery Index.
RUNNET, or Rennet, is the concreted milk found
in the stomachs of sucking quadrupeds, which as yet
have received no other nourishment than their mother’s
milk. In ruminating animals, which have several sto¬
machs, it is generally found in the last, ihough some¬
times in the next to it. If the runnel is dried in the
sun, and then kept close, it may be preserved in per¬
fection for years. Not only the runnel itself, but also
the stomach in which it is found, curdles mhk without
any previous preparation. But the common method
is, to take the inner membrane of a calf’s stomach, to
clean it well, to salt and hang i up in brown paper:
when this is u ed the salt is washed off, then it is ma¬
cerated in a I tile water during the night, and in the
morning the infusion is poured into the milk to curdle
it. But see more particular y the article Cheese fur
a proper receipt to make runnel, upon w hich the qua¬
lity of the cheese greatly depends.
RUPEE, a silver coin current in the East Indies,
equal to about 2s. 6d. sterling.
RUPERT, or Robert. See Robert.
Kufeht, prince palatine of the Rhine, &c. son of
Frederic prince elector palatine of the Rhine and Eli¬
sabeth daughter of King James I. of England, was born Rui»wt.
in 1619. He gave proofs of his bravery at the age of
IS ; and in 1612 Came over into England, and offer¬
ed his service to King Charles I. his uncle, who gave
him a command in his army. At Edgehitl he charged
with incredible bravery, and made a great slaughter of
the parliamentarians. In 1(5IS he seized the town of
Cliencester; obliged the governor of Litchfield to sur¬
render ; and having joined his brother Prince Maurice,
reduced Bristol in three days, and passed to the relief
of Newark. In 1644 he marched to relieve York,
where he gave the parliamentarians battle, and entirety
defeated their right wing ; but Cromwell charged the
marquis of Newcastle with such an irresistible force,
that Prince Rupert was entirely defeated. After this the
Prince put birr self into Bristol, which surrendered
to Fairfax after a gallant resistance. The king was so
enraged at the loss of this city, so contrary to his ex¬
pectation, that he recalled all Prince Rupert’s commis¬
sions, and sent him a pass to go out of the kingdom. In
1648 he went to France, was highly complimented by
that court, and kindly received by King Charles II.
who sojourned there for the time. Afterward he was
constituted admiral of the king’s navy; attacked the
Dutch ships, many of which he took; and having en¬
gaged with De Ruyter, obliged him to fly. He died
in 1682, and was interred with great magnificence in
King Henry VII.’s chapel, Westminster. Mr Grain¬
ger observes, that he possessed in a high degree that
kind of courage which is better in an attack than a de¬
fence ; and is less adapted to the land-service than that
of the sea, where precipitate valour is in its element.
He seldom engaged but he gained the advantage, which
he generally lost by pursuing it too far. He was better
qualified to storm a citadel, or even to mount a breach,
than patiently to sustain a siege ; and would have fur¬
nished an excellent hand to a general of a cooler head.
This prince is celebrated for the invention of prints
in mezzotino, of which he is said to have taken the
hint from a soldier’s scraping his rusty fussil. The
first print of this kind ever published was done by his
highness, and may be seen in the first edition of Eve¬
lyn’s Sculptra. The secret is said to have been soon af¬
ter discovei ed by Sherwin an engraver, who made use
of a loaded file for laying the ground. The prince,
upon seeing one of his prints, suspected that his servant
had lent him his tool, which was a channeled roller ;
but upon receiving full satisfaction to the contrary, he
made him a present of it. The roller was afterwards
laid aside; and an instrument with a crenelled edge,
shaped like a shoemaker’s cutting knife, was used in¬
stead of iJ. He also invented a metal called by his
name, in which guns were cast; and contrived an ex¬
cellent method of boring them, for which purpose a
water-mill was erected at Hackney-marsh, to the great
detriment of the undertaker, as the secret died with j
the illustrious inventor.
Bupert’s Drops, a sort of glass-drops with long and
slender tails, which burst to pieces on the breaking off
those tails in any part; said to have been invented by
Prince Rupert, and therefore called by his name. Con¬
cerning thecauseof this surprising phenomenon scarcely
any thing that bears the least appearance of probabi¬
lity has been offered, Their explosion, it is said, is at¬
tended
fil
It U S [ S47 ] It U S
flail
» tended in the dark with a flash of light; and by being
boiled in oil, the drops are deprived of their explosive
irt*1' quality.
RtJPIN, or Rapiv, a town of Germany, in the
marquisate of Brandenburg and capital of a duchy of
the same name. It is divided into the Old and the New.
The Old was nothing but an ancient castle, very well
furnished, the late king of Prussia, before his father’s
death, residing there. New Rupin is seated on a lake,
and become a considerable place of trade, with a ma¬
nufactory of cloth. It is also noted for brewers, E.
Long. 13. 23. N. Lat. 53. 0.
RUPPIA, a genus of plants, belonging to the te-
trandria class; and in the natural method ranking under
the 15th order, Inundatcc. See Botany Index.
RUSCUS, Knee-holly, or Butchers Broom; a
genus of plants, belonging to the dicecia class ; and in
the natural method ranking under the 11th order, Sar-
mentacece. See Botany Index.
The most remarkable species is the aculeatus, or com¬
mon butcher’s broom, common in the woods in many
parts of England. It has roots composed of many
thick fibres which twine about each other; from which
arise several stiff green stalks about three feet high,
sending out from their sides several short branches, gar¬
nished with stiff, oval, heart-shaped leaves, placed alter¬
nately on every part of the stalk, ending with sharp
prickly points. The flowers are produced in the
middle, on the upper side of the leaves; they are small,
and cut into six parts ; of a purple colour, sitting close
to the midrib. They appear in June ; and the female
flowers are succeeded by berries as large as cherries, of
a sweetish taste, which ripen in winter ; when they are
of a beautiful red colour. As this plant grows w ild in
most parts of England, it is rarely admitted into gar¬
dens ; but if some of the roots be planted under tall
trees in large plantations, they will spread into large
clumps; and as they retain their leaves in winter, at
that season they w ill have a good effect.
RUSH. See Juncus, Botany Index.
RUSHWORTH, John, the compiler of some use¬
ful collections respecting the affairs of state, was born
in Northumberland about the year 16* 7, and was de¬
scended of honourable ancestors. After attending the
university of Oxford for some time, he removed to
Lincoln’s Inn ; but the study of law not suiting his ge¬
nius, he soon deserted it, in order to seek a situation
where he might more easily gratify his love for political
information. Hefrequently attended themeetings of par¬
liament, ar.d wrote down the speeches both of the king
imd members. During the space of 11 years, from
J630 to 1640, when no parliament was held, he was an
attentive observer of the great transactions of state in
the star-chamber, the court of honour, and exchequer
chamber, when all the judges of England assembled
there on cases of great emergency. Nor did he ne¬
glect to observe with a watchful eye those events which
happened at a distance from the capital. He visited
the camp at Berwick, was present at the battle of New¬
born, at the treaty of Rippon, and at the great council
of York.
In 1()40 hewas appointed assistant to Henry Elsynge
clerk to the house of commons, and thus had the best
opportunities of being acquainted with their debates and
proceedings. The commons considered him as a person
worthy of confidence. In particular, they trusted him Kush worth,
with carrying their messages to the king wdiile he re-
mained at York. And when the parliament created Sir
Thomas Fairfaxtheir general. Rush worth was appointed
his secretary, and discharged the office much to the ad¬
vantage of his master. When Fairfax resigned his com¬
mission, his secretary returned to Lincoln’s Inn, and
was soon after (in 1651-2) chosen one of the committee
that was appointed to deliberate concerning the pro¬
priety and means of altering or new modelling the com¬
mon lav/. Pie was elected one of the representatives for
Berwick-upon-Tweed to the parliament which Richard
Cromwell assembled in 1658, and was re-elected by the
same town to the parliament w hich restored Charles II.
to the crown.
After the Restoration, he delivered to the king seve¬
ral books of the privy-council, which he had preserved
in his own possession during the commotion w hich then
agitated the country. Sir Orlando Bridgeman keeper
of the ereat seal chose him his secretary in 1677, an of¬
fice which he enjoyed as long as Sir Orlando kept the
seals. In 1678 he was a third time chosen member for
Berwick, and a fourth time in the ensuing parliament
in 1679* He was also a member of the parliament
which was convened at Oxford. The differt nt offices
he had held afforded him favourable opportunities of ac¬
quiring a fortune, or at least an independence; yet,
whether from negligence or prodigality, he was never
possessed of wealth. Having run himself into debt, he
wras arrested and committed to the King’s Bench prison,
Southwark, where he lingered for the last six years of
his life in the most deploi'able condition. His memory
and judgment w7ere much impaired, partly by age and
partly by the too frequent use of spirituous liquors. He
died on the 12th of May 169O.
His “ Historical Collections of private Passages in
State, weighty Matters in Law, remarkable Proceed¬
ings in Parliament,” were published in folio at different
times. The first part, comprehending the years between
J6l8 and 1629, appeared in 1659. The copy had
been entrusted by Oliver Cromwell to Whitelock, with
instructions to peruse and examine it. Upon perusing
it he thought it necessary to make some a’terations and
additions. The second part was published in J 680 ; the
third in I692 ; the fourth and last, which comes down
to the year 1648, was published in 1701 ; and altoge¬
ther made seven volumes. These underwent a second
edition in 1721 ; and the trial of the earl of Strafford
was added, which made the eighth. This work has
been much applauded by those who condemn the con¬
duct of Charles I. and accused of partiality by those who
favour the cause of that unhappy monarch. One person
in particular, Dr John Nelson of Cambridge, in a Col¬
lection of the Affairs of State published by the command
of Charles II. undertook to prove, “ that Rush worth
has concealed truth, endeavoured to vindicate the pre¬
vailing detractions of the late times, as w7ell as their
barbarous actions, and with a kind of rebound to libel
the government at second-hand.” This accusation seems
to be carried too far. His principles indeed led him to
show theking and his adherents in an unfavourable light,
and to vindicate the proceedings of parliament; jet it
cannot justly be affirmed that he has misrepresented or
falsified any of the speeches or f acts which he has admit¬
ted into his collection. Perhaps lie may have omitted
X x 2 som?
I
It IT S [ 348 ] It U S
Rush worth, gome papers merely because they were unfavourable to all his facts fairly and candidly, but passes over such as R^cli|
Russia. tj1£, party -which he had espoused ; and is therefore not are injurious to his client's cause. liussi|
Wy'w to be considered as an impartial historian who relates RUSSELIA, a genus of plants belonging to the V,~T'
the whole truth, but as an honest lawyer, who states pentandria class. See Botany Index.
It U S
1
Situation RUSSIA, the largest empire, and one of the most
darics°U11" Power* u^ s^tes in the known world, is situated partly in
Europe, partly in North America, but chiefly in Asia;
where it occupies that immense tract of country which
extends from the Uralian mountains and the Caspian on
the west, to Bering's straits and the sea of Kamtschatka
on the east, comprehending a great variety of tribes and
nations, whose very names were, half a century ago,
scarcely known to the west of Europe. This vast em¬
pire is bounded on the north by the Arctic Ocean ; on
the east by the Northern Pacific or Eastern Ocean ; on
the south by the extensive Chinese territories, the Mogul
empire, the Caspian sea, and part of Turkey ; and on
the west by the Austrian dominions, the kingdoms of
2 Prussia and Sweden, and the Baltic.
Extent, If we examine the extent of the Russian empire, we
shall find it stretching from the western part of the island
of Ozel in the Baltic in 22° E. Long, from Greenwich,
to the eastern promontory of theTschutchki territory in
172° E. from the same meridian; thus including 150?
of longitude; while, from its most northern promontory
in N. Lat. 78°, to the most southern point of 39° N. it
comprehends 39* of latitude. Mr Tooke, computing its
extent in British miles, estimates it at 9200 in length,
and 2400 in breadth. Its absolute superficial measure in
square miles can scarcely be ascertained. That of the
European part with the late addition of Finland is es¬
timated at I ,G40,000 square English miles, exclusive
of the new kingdom of Poland ; and the Asiatic part
3 alone is so extensive as to exceed the whole of Europe.
Divisions, The -whole hussian empire is, by the natural boun¬
dary of the Uralian mountains, divided into European
and Asiatic Russia; the former comprehending Russia
Proper, Russian Lapland, Finland, Courland, Livonia,
Russian Poland, the Taurican Chersonesus or Crim Tar¬
tary, and the country of the Kozaks, bordering on the
sea of Azof; the latter including the country of the
Samoeids, the vast district of Siberia, the country of the
Tschutchki, the country of the Mongul Tartars, and
some other districts that will be noticed hereafter. The
whole empire was, by Catharine II. divided into go¬
vernments, denominated in general from the names of
their capital cities. Of these governments, by far the
greater number belong to European Russia, the vast
tract of the Asiatic part having been divided into only
two governments, viz. that of Tobolsk to the west, and
Irkutsk to the east.
In enumerating the governments of European Russia,
we shall begin with the north, where lies the extensive
government of Archangel, stretching from the confines
S I A.
of Sweden along the shores of the White sea and the
Arctic ocean, to the Uralian chain. To the south of
this, along the Asiatic frontier, as far as the sea of
Azof, are situated the governments of Vologda, Perm,
Vyatka, Kazan, Simbirsk, Saratof, and the territory of
the Don Kozaks. To the west of these last, along the
sea of Azof and the Rlack sea, lies the government of
Catharinoslaf, including Taurida and the Crimea. On
the western side of the empire extend the acquisitions
derived from the partition of Poland; and along the
eastern shores of the Baltic lie the governments of
Riga, Revel, St Petersburgh, Viborg, Kymenegard,
Tavasthus, Abo, Kuopia Wasa, Uleabourg and Olonetz.
The remaining governments which occupy the centre,
are those of Novgorod, Tver, Kostroma and Yaroslavl,
that lie chiefly to the north and east of the Volga;
and those of Polotsk, Pskov, Smolensk, Moskva, Vla¬
dimir, Nizney-Novgorod, Moghilef, Kaluga, Toula,
Reazan, Tambof, Penza, Orel, Sieverskof, Tcherni-
gof, Koursk, Kief, Kharkof, and Voronetz, lying prin¬
cipally to the west of the Volga (a).
In the account which we are here to give of this ex¬
tensive empire, which has of late made so conspicuous a
figure among the states of Europe, we shall first con¬
sider what may be called the permanent features of tho
empire, as the face of the country, the soil, the moun¬
tains, rivers, lakes, and forests, the climate and seasons,
and the most important natural productions; we shall
then trace its origin and progress in the history of its
transactions, from which we shall deduce its progressive
geography ; and we shall conclude with describing the
more fluctuating circumstances, which constitute its po¬
litical and civil geography. [1
In a tract of country so immense, which is calculated Face tit
to include a seventh part of the known continent, and countif
nearly a twenty-sixth part of the whole globe, its sur¬
face must present a great variety of appearances ; but
these are much more remarkable in Asiatic than in Eu.
ropean Russia. The latter is distinguished chiefly by
extensive plains, called steppes, that rival the deserts of
Asia and Africa, presenting to the eye little more than
a vast expanse of level sand, with very little appearance
of vegetation. The chief situation of these steppes is to¬
wards the south, especially in the neighbourhood of the
sea of Azof, where they extend in length above 400
British miles. In this part of the empire there are but
few considerable elevations, and no mountains of im¬
portance, except on the eastern frontier, and towards the
south, between the Don and the Volga. The whole
country is well watered with rivers, and contains numer¬
ous
(a) In our orthography of the names of persons and places we have followed Mr Tooke, who has explained tho
principles of Russian orthography, in his History of Russia, vol. i. p. ISO.
En eravedby Sd£Hal!.
Published fy J. Const,line ,(■ CIEdinhunih, h'Uq.
. - •
'
II u s
ItiusU. ous large and populous towns. In the north and east of
A si nie Russia, v/e see little more than extensive marshy
plains, covered with almost perpetual snow, and crossed
hv broad rivers, which take their course to the Arctic
ocean. In this part, and even towards the centre of
Siberia, vegetation is so much checked by the severe
cold, that few trees are to be seen ; but towards the
south there are vast forests of pine, fir, larch, and trees of
a similar nature. In some parts of this division of the
empire, especially about lake Baikal, the scenery is
beautiful and picturesque. Here, too, the country
abounds in steppes, which are still more extensive than
those of the European part.
As these steppes are among the most striking pecu¬
liarities of the Russian empire, it may be proper to con¬
sider them rather minutely. These steppes resemble, in
many respects, the sandy deserts of Africa ; but though
their soil is composed of the same materials, theyarenot
so barren of vegetation, exhibiting here and there scat¬
tered patches of thin grass, and at distant intervals,
small stunted thickets. In general they are destitute of
wood, though in a few places we find small forests of
birch trees. They abound with salt lakes, but streams
of fresh ■water are uncommon. The most remarkable
steppes are, as we have said, those of Asiatic Russia,and
of these there are four that merit particular notice. One
of these extends between the rivers Volga and Ural, and
was formerly called the Kalmuk steppe. On the north
it skirts the floetz mountains that proceed from the
Uralian drain, while to the south it borders on the Cas¬
pian. This sandy plain contains a few districts thatare
well adapted to the purposesof agriculture, but in gene¬
ral it is destitute of wood and fresh water* It abounds
in salt lakes, and is very thinly inhabited. The second
great steppe is that which extends between the Tobol
and the Irtysh, and betv/een this latter river and the
Alay and the Oby, as far as the influx of the Irtysh into
the Oby. This comprehends a most extensive territory,
containing numerous forests of birch, pines, and firs,
interspersed with salt lakes, and in most places well cal¬
culated for pasturage and agriculture. The greater part
of this steppe lies in the government of Tobolsk. A
third comprehends that large tract that lies beyond the
river Tshulim, between the Oby and the Yenissy, asfar
as the shores of the Arctic ocean. In this steppe there
is much wood, especially towards the south, where there
are considerable forests. Eastward from this, between
the Yenissy, the Tunguska, and the Lena, lies a fourth
desert, resembling the last in its appearance, and the na¬
ture of its soil, but containing less wood. A great
part of this steppe lies in the government of Irkutsk.
The mountains in Asiatic Russia are indeed more
numerous,but are not remarkable for their height. The
. rivers are large and majestic, and are navigable for a
Soil. considerable extent.
The soil is of course extremely various. That of the
northern parts is marshy, and little susceptible of culti¬
vation, hut the south abounds in rich and fertile plains.
I he most fertile part of European Russia is that between
the Don and the Volga, from the government of Voro-
netsk to that of Simbirsk. Here the soil consists of a
black mould, strongly impregnated with nitre, and is
so rich, that the fields are never manured. The harvests
We abundant, and the natural pastures render the sowing
S I A. 349
of artificial grasses unnecessary. Most parts of Siberia Kuss':3-
are totally incapable of agriculture and improvement.
YVe have already remarked that Russia is rather a flat Mountains,
than a mountainous country, and this character is parti¬
cularly applicable to the European part. The most ele¬
vated region of this division lies in the road between
St Petersburg!! and Mosco, and is commonly called the
mountain of Volday, though denominated by the na¬
tives Vhisokaya Plostchade, or the elevated ground.
This mountain is flat at the top, is surrounded with
large sand hills, interspersed with granite rocks, and has
in its vicinity several lakes and groves. In this moun¬
tain are the sources of the rivers Dima, Volp-a, and
Dniepr.
To the south-west, boundingthe steppe of the Dniepr,
lie the mountains of Taurida, which are rather roman¬
tic from their adjacent scenery, than remarkable for
their height. Between them and the shores of the
Black sea lie beautiful valleys, abounding with olives,
figs, and pomegranates, while the steepest cliffs of the
mountain are adorned with the red bark and evergreen
foliage of the arlmlus. These valleys are very produc¬
tive in vineyards, and feed numerous flocks of sheep and
goats.
The largest mountainous tract of European Russia
is that of Olonetz, that lies between the Swedish
frontiers and the White sea. This chain occupies a
space of nearly lo*, or above 1000 British miles, run¬
ning almost due north. This chain is of no great
height, but its northern part is covered with perpetual
snow. These mountains are very rich in mineral pro¬
ducts, which will be noticed hereafter.
The Uralian mountains, that separate Europea A from
Asiatic Russia, have been sufficiently described in the
article Geology, N° 131, 135.
The mountains of Asiatic Russia are more numerous
and more important. They include the Altaic chain,
the mountains of Savansk, of Yablonnoy, and Stanovoy,
forming thesouthern boundary between the Russian and
Chinese empires, and the classical range of Caucasus, ex¬
tending between the Caspian and the Black sea. Of
these, the Altaic chain has also been sufficiently descri¬
bed under Geology, N° 132; and as the other moun¬
tains to the south and east may be considered as a con¬
tinuation of the same chain, they need not occupy our
attention in the present article.
The ridge of Mount Caucasus divides Russia from
Turkey to the west, and from Persia to the east, and ex¬
tends between the Euxine and the Caspian for about
400 British miles. It is not of any considerable breadth,
being in no part more than 20or 30 miles across, and in
some places not more than five or six. Its height is con¬
siderable, and its summits are covered with eternal ice
and snow. The valleys at its foot abound in forest
trees; and the bowels of the mountain contain veins of
silver, lead and copper. 7
Among the mountains of the Russian empire we must Volcanoes,
not omit the volcanoes of Kamtschatka. The whole of
this peninsula is divided lengthwise by a chain of lofty,
rocky mountains, commonly covered with snow, and
shooting into conical summits that very frequently emit
smoke, and sometimes burst out into flame. We do not
find, however, that they pour out lava, or water, like
the European volcanoes. Many of them appear to be
extinct,
mo
Russia.
9
lay* and
gulfs.
10
Rivers.
RUSSIA.
extinct, but their former volcanic state is evinced by
the appearance of craters at their summits. In the
neighbourhood of these volcanoes there are hot spi mgs,
not inferior in temperature to those of Iceland, and like
them throwing up jets of water with a great noise, but
to an inconsiderable height.
The seas that are connected with Bussia are the
Arctic ocean, and that part of the Pacific which has
been called the eastern Archipelago, forming its nor-
them and eastern boundaries ; the inland seas of the
Baltic, the Black sea, the sea of A zof, the Caspian, the
sea of Aral, and the sea of Okhotsk. Some account of
these, except the sea of Okhotsk, will be found under
their respective articles in this work.
The sea of Okhotsk may be considered as a large
gulf lying between the peninsula of Kamtschatka to the
east, and the country of the Tungousi to the west. Its
entrance from the Pacific ocean is closed by a chain of
small islands, called the Kourilskie islands, and within
these are the two large islands of Ezzo and Sackhalin.
Its principal port is Okhotsk, at the mouth of the
small river Okhota, and to the north-east it has a con¬
siderable branch called the sea of Pengina.
The shores of Ru-siaare hollowed out into numerous
indentations, forming several important bays and gulfs.
The most remarkable of these are, the gulf of Finland
in the Baltic, that of Archangel in the White sea, the
bays of Obv and of Enissy in the Arctic ocean ; the
bay of Anadhir in the eastern Archipelago ; the large
gulf of the sea of Okhotsk, called the sea of Pengina,
and the harbour of St Peter and St Paul in the southern
extremity of Kamtschatka.
This extensive empire is watered by numerous and
important rivers, which traverse it in every direction.
These we shall class, not according to the divisions of
the empire through which they pass, but according to
the seas or oceans into which they flow.
The rivers which flow into the Baltic are, the Duna
and the Neva. Those which fall into the White sea
are the Onega and the Dvina to the west, aud the Kei-
loi and the Mesan to the east. Into the Arctic ocean
flow the Cara, the Petshora or Bolshaia Petshora, the
Oby, which receives the Irtysh ; the Tobol, the 1 e-
nissy, the Khatanga, the Lena, the Yana, the In-
diclnrka, and the Kolyma. Those which flow into the
eastern Pacific are, the Anadhir and the Kamtschatka.
Into the Caspian sea fall the Yemba or Emba, the
Ural or Yaik. the Volga, receiving the Kamma, and the
Okha and the Terek. l astly, there flow into the
Black sea, the Khuban, the Don, the Dniepr or Ni-
eper. the Bog or Bogue, and the Dniestr or Niester.
Of these rivers we have already given an account of the
Don, the Dvina, the Irtysh, the Lena, the Nieper, the
Niester, the Oby, and the Onega,under their respective
titles, and an account of the Volga will he found under
that head. We shall here add a brief view of the re¬
maining rivers.
The Duna, sometimes called the western Dvina, rises
between the -provinces of Pskov and Smolensk, and
takes a north-westerly course for about 500 miles, till it
falls into the Baltic at Riga. This river has some con¬
siderable and dangerous falls; and when tile ice breaks
up on the approach of warm weather, vast quantities of ^
it are hurried down the stream, so as frequently to do
much injury to the port of Riga.
Of those rivers which flow into the Arctic ocean, the
Cara is one of the most inconsiderable, were it not that
it completes the boundary between Europe and Asia
to the north. It runs from the Uraban mountains to
the sea of Karskoye, a distance of about 140 miles.
The Petshora rises in the Uralian mountains, in the
government ofVologda, runs across the government of
Archangel, and falls into the Arctic ocean at Poosto-
zertsk, after a course of about 450 miles..
The Tobol rises in the chain of mountains, that sepa¬
rate the government of Ufa from the country of the
Kirghistzi, and empties itsrlf.into the Irtysh at Tobolsk,
after receiving numerous tributary streams.
The Yenissy or Enyssi, is formed by the junction of
two rivers, viz. the Kamsara and the Veikem or Bay-
kema, which belong to China. It first enters the Rus¬
sian dominions, where alone it has the name of Yenissy,
at the mouth of the Bon-Kemtshyng, and after running
northward, and forminga bay containing several islands,
it falls into the Arctic ocean about 2° eastward of the
mouth of the Oby.
The Khatanga rises from a lake in the government of
Tobolsk, and falls into a large bay of the Frozen ocean,
called Khatanskaia Cuba. Its course is through a low
and very marshy country.
The Yana rises from a little lake in about 64° N.
Lat. and after makingsome small turns, runs northward
to the Arctic ocean, forming five considerable arms that
empty themselves into a capacious bay.
The Indighirka rises near the source of the Yana, but
on the other side of the mountains. At its efflux into
the Arctic ocean after a course of 1200 versts (u), it
forms four great arms.
The Anadhir rises in the country of the Tscbutchki.
Its bed is sandy, its channel very broad, and its current
slow. It is so shallow that it can scarcely be crossed by
the common ferry boats of the country, though these
draw no more than two feet of water. It takes its
course through a flat country, which on the north side
of the river is destitute of wood, but overgrown with
moss, affording pasture to innumerable herds of rein
deer; but on the south well w ooded and abounding
with verdure. It falls into a considerable bay a little
south of the tropic of Cancer, called the*bay of Anadhir.
The Kamtschatka takes a short course irom south to
north, along the peninsula of that name, till, not far
from its mouth, it turns to the south-east, and falls into
a bay nearly opposite to Bhering’s island.
The Amoor was formerly reckoned among the rivers
of Russia, but was lately ceded entirely to China.
Of the rivers that fall into the Caspian sea, w'e have
to notice the Yemba, the Ural, and the Terek. The
first of the e rises in the most southern part of the Ura-
lian chain, and is the most eastern ot all the rivers that
fall into the Caspian. It forms part of the boundary
between the country pf the Kirghishes andtheUsinskoy
government. The Uml or Yaik is a river ot consider-
® able
(b) A R ussian verst is about two thiids of an
English mile, or about 1174 yaids.
?
RUSSIA. 351
uss'a. able importance. It vises in the Uralian mountains,
in the government of Ufa, and after passing by Oren¬
burg, and receiving several streams, it Hows into the
Caspian at Gourief. Its name is said to have been
changed from Yaik to Ural, on account of a dangerous
insurrection of the tribes that inhabited its banks. The
Terek originates in Mount Caucasus, on the highest
ridges that form the frontiers of Georgia. Its course is
rapid, and in the autumn the melted snows rush down
from the mountains in such torrents into the plain
beneath, as to swell this river eight or ten feet above its
usual level, so that it overflows the adjacent country,
and not unfrequently shifts its bed. It falls into the
Caspian at Kialiar, after forming two branches, with a
considerable island between them.
The Kuban and the Bogue are the only important
rivers of those which flow into the Black sea, that have
not been noticed in their places in the general alphabet
of this work. Of these the Kuban, anciently deno¬
minated Hypanis, rises at the foot of Mount Caucasus,
and is formed chiefly by the confluence of several tri¬
butary streams. It takes a direction nearly westward,
running along the parallel of 45° N. Lat. and falls in¬
to the Black sea, opposite the isle of Taman, in the
straits of Kafa. Its stream is smooth and gentle, not
obstructed by waterfalls, and, though not deep, is well
adapted to purposes of inland navigation. Its banks are
fertile, and nerir its source are considerable forests.
The Bogue rises in Poland, and formerly constituted
part of the boundary between that kingdom and the
Russian empire, as at present towards its mouth it forms
part of the frontier between Russia and Tui’key. It
11 falls into the Black sea at Otchakof.
;es. The Russian empire, considering its size, does not
abound in lakes. These are proportionally most numer¬
ous in European Russia, where we find the lake of
Imandra in Russian Lapland; those of Ladoga, Onega,
and Peipus, in the neighbourhood of St Petersburgh ;
Bielo-Ozei'o, or the White lake, in the government of
Novgorod; and those which'give rise to the river Volga,
the principal of which' is Seliger, in the government of
Tver.
The Asiatic lakes are not numerous; but one of them,
the lake or sea of Baikal, is highly important from its
magnitude, and from the commercial intercourse which
it promo es between the adjacent provinces. The
other lakes of this part of Russia are these of Altyn-
Noor, or the Golden lake, and of Altyn or Te'itzko.
Most of these lakes have been already noticed under
their proper heads in the general alphabet; but as the
account there given, excepting that of Baikal, differs
in some respects from the description of them by the
latest geographers, we shall here add the account of the
12 Russian lakes given by Mr Tooke.
doga. The lake of Ladoga is situated in the government of
Vyborg, between' the gulf of Finland and the lake of
Onega, Avhich in ancient times is said to have been de¬
nominated Nebo. (t is reckoned one of the largest
lakes in Europe, the length of it being about 175, and
its breadth 10.5 versts. It produces a vast number of
seals. On account of the perilous storms to which it is
liable, and the several sand banks that are ever shifting
tiieir position, Peter the Great caused the famous La¬
doga canal to be dug along its shore, from the Volkhof
into the Neva, which canal is 10f< versts long, 10 sa- Bussia.
jenes* broad, 1 i sajene deep, and has 25 sluices. By vW
the Neva the Ladoga is connected with the Baltic; * A sajeue
by the Svir with the Onega ; and by the Volkhof with is abollt
the Ilmen. Into the canal flow the rivers Lipke,
Nasia, Sheldika, Lava, and Kabona; into the lake, the “
rivers Pasha, Siass, Glaet. &c. whereas the Neva alone
runs out of it. Both shores of the lake belong to Rus¬
sia, and these have everywhere a flat coast and a sandy
beach. On this shore it lias also a few low fishery
islands, and a sandy bottom. That part of the northern
side which lies in the government of Olonetz has marble
on its coast, whence some of those beautiful and durable
kinds of Finnish marble are brought to St Petersburgh.
As the bed of this lake, for a great extent, is in the
lowest p;irt of the country, it receives, besides the above-
mentioned rivers, the waters that come from the alum
hills ; all of which have no other outlet than the Neva. J3
The lake Onega is situated in the government ofonegs.
Olonetz, between the Ladoga and the White sea. Its *
length is between 180 and 200 versts, and its breadth
from 60 to 80. Like the Ladoga, it contains a few
islands consisting of marble, and in all other properties
is much the same. With other rivers, the Vitegra falls
into it on the south-east side, which river takes its rise not
far from the Kofsha, and this river falls into the Bielo-
ozero. On the Kofsha is the old Ladoga, and on the Vi¬
tegra, theoldVitegorskaia, which areonlyabout ! 0versts
asunder. Now, as from the Onega the navigable river
Svir runs into the Ladoga, and from the Bielo-ozero
the Sheksna flows into the Volga, there needs only a
canal to be cut the said distance of 40 versts, for con¬
necting the Neva with the Volga, which would be much
more convenient for the navigation here than the pas¬
sage by Vishnoi-Volotshok, because there are no water¬
falls, and therefore all the danger and trouble attend¬
ing them in the present passage would be obviated.
The lake Peipus, called by the Russians Tshudskoe- Peipus,
ozero, lies between the governments of Pscove, Reval,
Riga, and St Petersburgh ; is in length about 80 and
in breadth about 60 versts. It is connected with the
Pscove lake by a very broad channel, about 50 versts
in length. From this hike proceeds the river Narova,
communicating through the Embach with the Vertz-
erb, and from this lat er runs the Fellin to the gulf of
Riga, so that an inland navigation might easily be form¬
ed between lake Peipus and the Baltic, though at pre¬
sent the commodities conveyed along theNarova toNar-
va, must be carried a considerable way by land, owing
to the numerous falls in that river. In this lake there
are a few small islands, one of which has three villages
upon it, and is well furnished with wood. 15
The Bido-ozero, or White lake, is in the same govern- Bido-
ment with the foregoing; is about 50 versts long and ozero*
30 broad, and receives into it several smaller streams.
The only one that flows out of it is the Sheksna, which
falls into the Volga. The water of this lake is clear,
having a bottom partly clay and partly stony. The
clay is generally of a white colour, and in stormy wea¬
ther causes a strong white foam upon the surface of the
water. It is doubtless from this circumstance that the
lake first obtained the name Bielo, or white. It abounds
with fish and crabs, is
The lake Tshany is situated partly in the government Tshany.
of
RUSSIA.
, 1,abjl'u of Tobolsk, and partly in that of Kolhyvan. It com-
municates with the lakes Molski and Abishkan, is of
very considerable circuit, and abounds in fish.
The lake Ilmen, formerly Moisk, lies in the govern¬
ment of Novgorod, being about 40 versts long and 30
broad. It receives the rivers Mista, Lovat, Skelton, &c.
and gives birth to the Volkhof alone.
The Altyn-Noor, or Teletzkoe-ozero, lies in the go¬
vernment of Kolhyvan, on a very considerable elevation
of the Altai mountains, by which it is also entirely sur¬
rounded. Its length is computed at 126, and its great¬
est breadth at 84 versts. From this lake arises the fa¬
mous river By, which, at its junction with the Katunia,
takes the name of Oby.
European Russia abounds in wood; and numerousex-
tensive forests are seen in various districts, especially be¬
tween St Petersburgh and Mosco, and between Vla¬
dimir and Arzonrs. It is supposed that the Riphaean
forest, so celebrated in antiquity, occupied the southern
part of European Russia, where now extends a plain
covered with a thick and fertile coat of black mould.
The forests in some part of Asiatic Russia are also im¬
mensely large, especially towards the south. On the
west of the government of Irkutsk, an enormous, dark,
and marshy forest of resinous trees, extends to the river
Kan ; but the northern and eastern parts of Siberia are
bare of wood.
Climate and When we consider that the Russian empire occupies
seasons. an extent from north to south of nearly 40°, we may
rationally conclude that the climate and seasons of so
vast a tract must be extremely diversified. According¬
ly we find that while the northern regions are exposed
to almost perpetual frosts, some of the southern districts
enjoy the purest atmosphere and the mildest sky. W'hile
the former is doomed to the utmost sterility, the latter
is so fertile as to produce in the most lavi-h abundance
all the vegetable riches of the most favoured climates.
One of the latest writers on the climate of Russia, M.
Hermann, has divided the empire into lour regions,
which are thus distinguished.
1. The very cold region, extending from 78° to 60°
of north latitude. This region comprehends the go¬
vernments of Vyborg, Olonetz, Archangel. Tobolsk,
the greater pert of Irkutsk, Vologda, a part of Perme,
Novgorod and St Petersburgh.
2. The cold region, extending from 60° to 55°, and
including the governments of Reval, Riga, Polotsk,
Pscov, Tver, Mosco, Yaroslavl, Vladimir, Kostroma,
Vicetka, the greater part o f Perme and Kazan, a part
of Irkutsk, Kolhyvan, Ufa, Simbirsk, Nishney-Novgo¬
rod, Kaluga, and Smolensk.
3. The moderate region, extending from 55° to o0°,
including the governments of Moghilef, Tchernigof,
Orel, Kursk, Tula, Tambof, Penza, the greater part of
Kief, Khavkof, Voronetsk, lliazan, Saratof, Kaluga,
Sinbirsk, Ufa, Kolhyvan, and a part of Irkutsk, Kazan,
Nishney-Novgorod and Smolensk.
4. The hot region, extending from 50° to the most
southern part of Russia, including Taurida, Ekatarinoslaf,
the greater part of Caucasia, and apart of Kief, Kharkof,
Voronetsk, Sara:of, Ufa, Kolhyvan, and Irkutsk.
From the above enumeration we find that one of the
Russian governments possessesall the varietiesof climate
and season, and that many of than are so divided as to
17
Ilmen.
18
Altyn-
Noor,
19
Forests.
enjoy the advantages of two climates. We shall de¬
scribe the nature of the climate and changes of the sea¬
son, as they occur in each of these divisions, confining
ourselves chiefly to the extremes of St Petersburgh and
Taurida, as being most interesting.
In many districts of the first region there is scarcely
any summer ; for the three or four months in which it
does not snow, scarcely deserve that name. As in most
parts of the globe, however, the eastern districts of this
region are much colder and more barren than those on
the western side; the fruits that come to maturity
round St Petersburgh, and in the government of Vy¬
borg, are not found under the same latitude in Siberia.
Even the weather of St Petersburgh, however, is suf¬
ficiently rude, and the climate here is unsettled and un¬
friendly. In the winter of 1798 and 1799, the coldest
ever known in that country, the mercury in Fahrenheit’s
thermometer stood at St Petersburgh at 39° below 0,
and even at Mosco, the same thermometer fluctuated
during 35 successive days between —30° and —40°.
The spring in this region (i. e. about St Petersburgh),
has in general much frost, snow, and rain; but the short
summer is for the most part fair and fine. The longest
day is here about 18 4 hours, and the evening twilights
are so uncommonly luminous, as readily to enable per¬
sons to read and write. The very sultry days are in
general but few, and these are amply compensated by
the cool evenings, nights and mornings. The autumn
has seldom many bright days, but is for the most part
cloudy, wet, and boisterous. The winter is always se¬
vere ; and as the atmosphere is generally dry, even in
snowy weather, this season is so healthy, that the small-
est number of deaths is found to happen during winter.
The shortest day is only five hours and a half, and
though considerable light is reflected from the snow, yet
when the atmosphere is cloudy, candles can be dispensed
with but for a very short time. During this season the
river Neva, the lakes in the vicinity of St Petersburg!),
and even the gulf of Finland, as far as the islands of the
Baltic, are covered with ice nearly a yard in thickness.
On an average, there are annually from 150 to 190
days of frost, during which the ground is frozen to the
depth of nearly three feet.
This severity of climate, apparently so inimical to
health and comfort, is considered by the inhabitants
as one of their greatest blessings. By the extent of ice
and snow, distances are shortened, or at least travelling
is facilitated, so that people, horses, and carriages with
the heaviest burdens, cross the Neva, and the other
rivers, lakes, and canals, in all directions. Ice cellars
here form a necessary of life, for by their means provi¬
sions of all kinds are preserved during summer. Hence
every house is provided with one of them; and in the
beginning of February they are filled with large blocks
cut from the river. The ice also promotes the amuse¬
ments of theinhabitants, as we shall shew in the sequel
of this article. Indeed, so essential is this severity of
season to the comfort of the inhabitants, that when the
winter is unusually mild, the roads are nearly im¬
passable, and the provisions, which are always preser¬
ved in a frozen state, can scarcely be kept from pu-
trefact’on.
In this region the aurora borealis is very frequent,
and its coruscations peculiarly vivid ; storms of thunder
and
Russia
J5M3.
rw
It IT S S I A.
853
and lightning fti'fe neitliel* numerous, violent, nor last¬
ing ; high winds are not predominant, and it seldom
hails, though hoar-frosts are very common.
In the second region the summer is indeed short in
many parts ; but in most of them it is so warm, and the
days are so long, that the fruits of the e.-irth usually come
to maturity in a shorter time than in other places. The
winter in this region, especially in the governments of
Irkutsk, Perme, Viaetka, &c. is in general very se¬
vere.
In the third region the winter is also long and cold,
especially in the governments of Irkutsk, Kolhyvan,
and Ufa. This, however, is owing rather to the lofty
mountains with which these districts abound, than from
their high degree of latitude. The governments be¬
longing to this region in European Russia, however,
usually enjoy a short and mild winter, and a fine warm
summer.
In the fourth region the winters are short, and, ex¬
cept in some parts of Irkutsk and Kolhyvan, not very
cold ; and the summer is warm, and in many parts very
dry. One of the most delightful districts in this region
is that of Taurida, o! which M. Pallas has given the
following animated description.
“ One of the mildest and most fertile regions of the
empire is the beautiful semicircular and emphitheatral
vale formed by theTauridan mountains along the shores
of the Euxine. These valleys, which are blessed with
the climate of Anatolia and the lesser Asia, where the
winter is scarcely sensible, where the primroses and
spring-saffron bloom in February and often in January,
and where the oak frequently retains its foliage through
the wThole winter, are, in regard to botany and rural
economy, the noblest tract in Taurida, and perhaps in
the whole extent of the empire. Here, on all sides,
thrive and flourish in open air the ever-verdmt laurel,
the olive tree, the fig, the lotus, the pomegranate, and
the celtis, which perhaps are the remains of Grecian
cultivation ; with the manna-bearing ash, the turpen¬
tine tree, the tan-bark tree, the strawberry tree from
Asia Minor, and many others. This last particularly
covers the steepest cliffs of the shore, and beautifies them
in winter by its perpetual foliage, and the red rind of
its thick stem. In these happy vales the forests consist
of fruit trees of every kind, or rather they form only a
large orchard left entirely to itself. On the shores of
the sea the caper-busi es p< op gate themselves sponta¬
neously ; w’ithout the assistance of art the wild or plant¬
ed vine stems climb the loftiest trees, and, twining w ith
the flowery five-leavtd ivy, form festoons and hedges.
The contrast^ of the orchards, and the rich verdure,
with ihe beautiful wildness presented by the adjacent
mountains and rocks, which in s me places rise among
the clouds, and in others are fallen in ruins ; the natu¬
ral fountains and cascades that agreeab y present their
rushing wafers ; lastly, the near view of the sea, where
the s'ght is lost in the unbounded prospect; all these
beauties together form so picturesque and delightful a
whole, that even the enraptured muse oi the poet or the
pain er would be unable to conceive a more captivating
scene.
“ In these enchantirg val’eys, to the benefit of the em¬
pire, which nowhere possesses so fine a climate, might
the useful products of Asia Minor, and of the southern
parts of Europe, be made indigenous. The superior
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
kinds of fruits may be produced here without trouble, Russia,
and are for the most part so already. The best kinds of
olive and fig trees may be cultivated here; and even
the sesamum plant never decays. Orange, lemon, and
citron trees, and particularly the cedrat, the most excel¬
lent species of them, would bear the wdnter extremely
well with a little c-ire. The vine would be constantly
improving, if a judicious selection were but made of the
stocks for planting, if greater attention were paid to
the various effects of the soil and situation of the vine¬
yards, and if more care were taken in working the must
and keeping the wine. For the use of the apothecaries
and manufacturers a number of excellent drugs and dyes
might be produced, which are at present brought from
the isles of the Archipelago, from Greece, from Asia
Minor, and Persia; several of them are now seen here
growing wild. Likewise many hard and useful kinds
of wrood especially coloured, fit for inlaid woik, might
here be propagated; perhaps in some tracts even the su¬
gar c me would thrive * TooJa-'t
The productionsof Russia would afford an ample field View of the
for the investigation of the naturalist; and this part of
its natural history has been fully illustrated by the en- V(y^*p^30.
lightened travellers who wrere lately employed in the
examination of the empire. We c an here give only a
brief sketch of the result of their inquiries. 21
In the central parts of European Russia are found Animals*
most of the animals wThich are common to it with the
rest of Europe. 'I he finest horses here are those of Li-
thuaniaand Livonia, the former possessing great strength,
the latter excelling in speed. The spirit and beauty of
the Tartarian horses have been long celebrated ; and in
the Taurida, where this breed is much cultivated, these
qualities have been improved by the introduction of
Turkish and Arabian stallions. Near Archangel, the
horses are small, and resemble those in the north of Bri¬
tain. The country near Archangel is remarkable for
fine pasturage, and an excellent breed of cattle; but in¬
deed cattle abound in most parts of the empire. The
sheep in the northern provinces are of a middle size,
with short tails and coarse wool; but those in the south,
are long-tailed, and their wrool is of a superior texture*;
but the beet wool is procured from the district of Kazan.
We have seen that the province of Taurida abounds in
sheep, which constitute the chief riches of the inhabi¬
tants. Some opulent farmers in this district possess
50,000 sheep ; and 1000 is by no means an uncommon
flock. Goats and swine also abound throughout Euro¬
pean Russia; and the rein-deer is not unknown in the
most northern governments. In the north, too, are
found the elk, the wolf, the lynx, and the sea bear:
and in the most southern districts the camel is sometime*
met with.
Asiatic Russia is remarkable for the rein-deer, which,
there performs the office of the horse, the cow, and the
sheep. In the south a'e found the wild horse, and the
wild ass ; while the argali, or wild sheep, is often hunt¬
ed in Siberia and the regions of Mount Caucasus pre¬
sent the furious bison. Here, too, are seen the ibex,
and the chamois. Near Lake Baikal are found the
stag, the musk anima', and the wild boar; and on the
banks ot the Yenissy is seen the beaver. Walrusses
haunt the shores of the Arctic ocean, and seals are
found in most of its bays and in ets. In Siberia, in the
provinces of Yakutsk and Nerschinsk, and in Kamt-
Y y + schatkst.
354 II U S
Russia, schatka, the hunting of sables forms, during part of the
year, the chief occupation of the inhabitants ; and their
skins, when procured perfectly entire, are said to be
worth L.10 each. The skins of the black fox are also
highly esteemed, as, according to Mr Tooke, one of
them is sometimes sufficient to pay the tribute of a vil¬
lage. The bear is found in the neighbourhood of the
Uralian mountains, and the civet cat in the Altai chain.
The wild boar grows here to such a size, that its tmks
• Pinker- are said sometimes to weigh 600 pounds *. The horses
ton's Geo- 0f the Mongul Tartars are of singular beauty, some of
graphy,yo\. tkem i)eing striped like the tiger, others spotted like
U’P’ ‘ the leopard, The stud of a noble Mongul sometimes
contains 3000 or 4000 of these animals. The principal
Nomadic hordes of Asiatic Russia, viz. the Tartars,
Monguls, and Mandshurs, not unfrequently regale on
horse-flesh ; but they do not, as is commonly reported,
eat it i aw. The cattle of this division of Russia are of
a middling size, and are commonly employed for
draught, and even sometimes for carriage.
The whole empire abounds with wild fowl and game
of all sorts ; and in the more solitary regions of Mount
Caucasus, and on the Uralian and Altaian chains, there
are numerous birds of prey. The external parts and
provinces of the empire are well supplied with sea fish
from the northern ocean, the Baltic, the White sea, the
Black sea and the Caspian ; and the numerous lakes and
rivers yield immense quantities of salmon, trout, pike,
sturgeon, and belluga (a large fish from whose roe is
made the best caviare). Innumerable swarms of insects
are hatched by the summer’s heat in the sands, morasses,
and forests ; and are said to be so troublesome as to ren-
22 der great part of these regions almost uninhabitable.
Vegetables. Merely to enumerate the chief vegetable productions
of the Russian empire, would far exceed the limits of
our plan. We shall therefore only mention the most
important. In the forests are found the fir, the Scotch
pine, the larch, the elm, the birch, the alder, the greater
maple, the sycamore, the oak of various species, the
black and white poplar, the ash, the hornbeam, the
beech, the nettle-tree, the cedar, and the cypress. Of
fruit trees and shrubs, the most remarkable are, the al¬
mond, the peach, the apricot, the medlar, the walnut,
the mulberry, the olive, the fig, the vine, and the pome¬
granate. In some parts of Asiatic Russia, are found,
besides, the quince, the date, the jujube, and the wil-
lowr-leaved pear; and many other shrubs and plants,
which in our climate require the aid of artificial heat,
are, in the southern provinces of Russia, produced spon-
23 taneously.
Minerals. Russia is notless rich in mineral productions, of which
Siberia in particular contains a great variety. In the
brief sketch of Russian mineralogy which we can here'
offer, we shall confine ourselves chiefly to the metallic
mines. Of these there are few in European Russia, and
those principally of iron. It appears that t here was for¬
merly a gold mine near the river Vigg in the novth-
wTestern corner of the empire; and in the year 1739,
gold was discovered in the same region, in the moun¬
tains of Olonetz ; but the product was scarcely suf¬
ficient to indemnify the government for tha expence
of working the mine, not more than 57 pounds of gold
having been procured within theyear. The richest iron
. mines in European Russia, are about 00 miles from
S I A.
Mosco; and in the government of Perrae are worked Rus*‘*.
mines, both of iron and copper. -y^
In Siberia there are valuable gold mines, especially
those of Catharineburg, on the east of theUralian moun¬
tains, in the latitude of about 57°, where an office for
the management of the mines was established by Peter I.
in 17! 9. Several mines of different metals extend to a
considerable distance on the north and south of Catha-
rineburg; and there are in this district above 100
founderies, chiefly for copper and iron. The principal
gold mines in this district are those of Beresof, a few
miles north-east of Catharineburg, near the river Pysh-
ma, that falls into the Tobol. The gold is sometimes
found native, but is generally mixed with various sub¬
stances, especially silver. There are other mines in
Kolhyvan and Nershinsk, chiefly of lead and silver,
with a small proportion of gold. The former of these
were discovered in 1704, and the latter in 1748. In
the mines of Beresof is found the red lead of Siberia ;
and in the copper mines, about 30 miles south of Ca¬
tharineburg, that particular ore called malachite, or
stalactitic copper, is found in great perfection. There
are also copper mines in the Altai mountains, where
dendritic copper is met with. The richest iron mines
in this part of Russia are in the neighbourhood of the
Uralian chain. The large mass of native iron which
we have mentioned under Geology, IS.0 l65. was
found by Professor Pallas in Siberia, near mount Emor
or Nernir, not far from the river Yenissy.
Rock salt is found in several parts of Siberia, especi¬
ally near the Ilek, not far from Orenburgh. Coal is a
rare production in Russia; but it is found near Lake
Baikal, and in the steppe between the Don and the
Volga. Sulphur, alum, sal ammoniac, nitre, and natron,
are found in great abundance.
There are also found in Siberia various gems, which
we must not omit to notice. These are discovered
chiefly in the mountain Adunshollow, in the province
of Nershinsk or Daouri, not far from the Chinese river
Argoon. Here are found common topazes, the hya¬
cinth, the Siberian emerald, the beryl, the onyx, and
beautiful red and green jaspers. Near Catharineburg
are the gem mines of Moursintsky, where are found the
beryl and the chrysolite. Near Lake Baikal red gar¬
nets are very common; and there are also found lapis
lazuli and the laikalite of Kirwan. The opal is said
to be found in the Altai mountains. ft
The mineral springs of Russia are found principally Miners
in the Asiatic part, especially in Kamtschatka. The waters’
only European mineral waters that merit particular no¬
tice are, a hot spring near Selo Klintschy, in the go¬
vernment of Perme ; a noted chalybeate spring in the
village of Vingova, in the district of Olonetz, distin¬
guished by Peter the Great, and called by him St Pe¬
ter’s Well, and another chalybeate spring, or rather as¬
semblage of springs strongly .mpregnatedwith iron, dis¬
covered in 1775, near Sarepta on the Volga. In the
district of Perekop and the island of Taman, belonging
to the government of Taurida, there are springs of
naphtha. Springs imgregnated with naphtha and pe¬
troleum are also found near lake Baika1. At Sarepta
there is a sulphurous spring, and theie are several others
in Siberia. On the Terek, towards Mount Caucasus,
arc warm springs that terve as baths; and similar baths
occur
It U S S I A.
355
issia. occur in the province of Ncrshinsk, in the territory of
V, yW the Kalmuks, to the south of the Altoi mountains, and
in the neighbourliood of Baikal. Chalybeate waters are
found among the iron mines near Catharineburg, and
a few occur in the province of Daouria.
The principal hot baths of Asiatic Russia are in
Kaintschatka,and are formed by the hot springs noticed
in N° 7. The chief bath of this kind is in the south¬
ern part of the peninsula near Natchikin. The hot wa¬
ters here fall in a rapid cascade, about 300 feet below
which they are collected into a bason six or seven feet
broad, and 18 inches deep. The water is extremely
g. hot, and is said to contain vitriolic and nitrous salts.
In ian Before we conclude what may be called the perma-
i<ltls, nent geographyof Russia, we must enumerate the islands
thatbelong tothis extensive empire,and particularly no¬
tice such of them as have not been described in other
parts of this Encyclopedia.
In Europe the Russians possess the islands of Oesel
and Dago in the Baltic, and the little island of Cron-
stadt at the entrance of the gulf of Finland, the islands
of Novaya Zemlia, and several smaller islands in the
Arctic ocean ; and though the dreary island of Spitzber-
gen is generally considered as belonging to Denmark,
itisatleast equally shared by the Russians, some of whom
regularly winter here, on account of the whale fishery.
In Asiatic Russia we may enumerate the Aleutian
(Aleoutskie or Fox) islands, of which Bhering’s island
is the only one deserving particular notice ; the Andre-
novian islands, about 500 miles to the south-east of
Bhering’s island, and the Kurile or ^Curilian islands, ex¬
tending from the southern promontory of Kamtschatka
36 towards Japan.
Jago. 'phg islantl 0f Dago,but briefly noticed in our general
alphabet,is forthe most part roeky,and itswestern shore
is sandy ; but the southern and eastern parts consist of a
bluish clay, and are very fertile. They produce consi¬
derable quantities of barley, especially in rainy seasons;
but it is found necessary to sow the seed very early in
the spring. There are here several forests, especially
one of alders, which is seen at a great distance,and serves
as a land-mark. This island is extremely populous, and
very healthy. It is inhabited chiefly by Esthonians.
The sea round Dago abounds with shallows, rocks, and
sand banks, that render the navigation dangerous ; but
to prevent ships from being stranded on the coast, a
light-house has been erected on the western promontory,
§7 about three miles from the sea.
tesel. Oesel is much more considerable than Dago, being
neatly 80 miles long, and about 60 at its greatest
breadth. Its soil is naturally more barren than that of
Dago, being chiefly sand, or loam and clajr; but as it is
well manured, the crops are pretty considerable. These
consist of wheat, rye, and barley, and in favourable sea¬
sons, oats and pease. Oesel abounds in quarries, from
which are procured excellent limestone, black and gray
flagstone, and grindstones. Marble is also tound, but is
28 not much esteemed.
N'ovaya The islands of Novaya Zemlia, or the New Land,
cmlia, consist chiefly of two very large insulated tracts, nearly
alike in size and figure, extending between 49° and 68°
of east longitude, and between 70° and 77° of north la¬
titude. They are sepwated from the main land by the
strait of Waigats. They may be estimated at 600 miles
in length, by a medium breadth of nearly 400, Yet
this large tract of country is desert and uninhabited, Russia,
except by reindeer, polar bears, white and blue foxes;
and on the coast seals and walrusses. The islands are
well supplied with water, but are rocky and destitute
of wood except a few stunted bushes. On the northern
side they are encompassed with mountains of ice. In
these drearjr regions the sun is not seen for nearly four
months, viz from the middle of October to February. 2P
Bhering’s island is situated in the sea ofKamtschatka, Rhering’s
about 3° to the east of that peninsula, extending from island.
55° to 56° of N. Lat. It was discovered by Bhering in
1740. It consists of a range of bald cliffs and hills, run¬
ning north and south, the highest of which are nearly
1000 fathoms above the level of the sea. The^e rocks
consist of granite in the middle ridge, and a sandstone
on each side; but some of the lower appear to be cover¬
ed with clay. This island is entirely destitute of wood,
but is otherwise not bare of vegetation. It contains
springs of excellent water, and has several fine cataracts.
The cold is moderate, and thunder has never been
observed, though it is said some shocks of earthquakes
have been felt. There are no human inhabitants; but
the island affords a dwelling to sea bears, arctic foxes,
seals, and walrusses. The Aleutian andKurilian islands,
have already been described under their respective
heads; and an account of Spitsbergen will be found
under that article.
Russia was scarcely knownasan independent state be- Origin of
fore the lattereml of the 9thcentury. We know, indeed, the Russian
that long before that period, namely about the 5th cen- emPirCl
tury, a horde, of those nations that roved at large on the
banks of the Dnieperand the Volkhof,established them¬
selves in that partof the regionborderingon theDnieper,
where is now situated the government of Kief or Kiow.
These people were called Slavi, or Slavonians, and had
advanced eastwardfrom theshores of the Danube. They
appear to have laid the first foundation of the Russian
monarchy, and to have built Kief, where they fixed their
capital. It is probable that about the same time another
tribe of Slavi had settled still farther to the east, in the
province of Novgorod, where they built the city still
known by that name, as their metropolis. Of the go¬
vernment and transactions of these people we have no
regular accounts till the conclusion of the qth century.
It appears, however, from a work of the emperor Con¬
stantine Porphyrogenitus on the administration of the
empire, that in his time the city of Novgorod was a
place of great importance, and carried on an extensive
commerce, both with Constantinople and the countries
bordering on the Baltic. The government of the Nov-
gorodians appears to have been republican, but the
people were probably rather merchants than warriors.
We find them involved in frequent disputes with the
neighbouring nations, from whose ravages they suffer¬
ed considerable losses
If we may credit the Russian historians, the Slavi Settlement
that had settled about Kief and Novgorod, must have
extended theboundaries of their territory northwards as Russia>
far as the shores of the Baltic. We find that they, were
much harassed by a piratical nation who dwelt on the
coasts of that sea, and were denominated Varages or
Varagians,and who made frequent descents on the Rus¬
sian coasts, and ravaged the country. It is not impro¬
bable that these Varagians formed apart of the Scandi¬
navian nations, who, under the names of Danes and
Y y 2 Saxons,-
S58
11 U S
Saxatt^ successively made themselves masters of Eng-
landi They were occasionally employed by the weaker
neighbouring states as mercenary auxiliaries, and in this
capacity they were once called to the assistance of the
Novgorodians. As is usual, where a weak people re¬
quires the assistance of a warlike and powerful nation,
theauxiliaries,after having overcome the enemies whom
they were invited to combat, began to think of availing
themselves of the advantages which their bravery had
given them over their employers. From allies and ser¬
vants they soon became the masters of the Slavi ; and
finding the country about Novgorod superior to that
which they had left, they began to think of taking up
their residence in their new quarters.
Their leader Ruric built a town near the Volkhof,
and surrounded it with a rampart of earth. This town
monarch1*16 ,s now ca^e(^ Eadoga. Here Ruric established the
wndeTllu- seat of h*s government- This event appeals to have ta-
rie. ken place about the year 860 ; and from this period we
may date the commencement of the Russian monarchy.
Ruric whs assisted by two other chiefs of the Varages,
Sinaus and Truvor, who are supposed to have been his
brothers, and with whom he divided the territory of
which he had possessed himself. Of these, Sinaus took
up his residence at Bielo Osero, or the white lake, while
Truvor kept his court at Isborsk, or according to some,
at Twertzog, in the district of Pleskow. The three
chiefs having thus divided among them the territories
ot the Novgorodians, continued to reign in amity with
each other for several years.
Opposition Tlie Slavi, however,did not submit to the dominion of
•t'the Slavi. their new masters, without an effort to regain their inde¬
pendence. At first, astonishment at the unexpected pro-
ceedingsof their auxiliaries overcame thespirit of liberty
which had hitherto actuated their minds; but they soon
awakened from their lethargy, and determined to repel
by force those whom they now considered as the invaders
of their country. They flew to arms, and chose for their
leader, Vadim, who by his feats in war had acquired the
honourable appellation of the valiant, A fierce engage¬
ment took place between the Novgorodians under Va¬
dim, and the Varages headed by liuric and his brothers,
Ihe contest ended in favour of the latter, and the brave
Vadim, with several other chiefs of the Novgorodians,
lost their lives in the attempt to free their country from
its ambitious guests. Thisnew success emboldened Ruric
to extend his territories, and to change the seat of go¬
vernment from the insignificant town of Ladoga, to the
spacious and opulent city of Novgorod. Soon after, by
the death of his partners in the government, Ruric be¬
came sole monarch of the conquered territory^, where he
reigned without farther molestation for 17 years, and
became the primogenitor of a long line of descendants,
who held ttie sovereignty without intern ption for seve¬
ral centuries. Ruric appears to have been zeaLus for
the strict administration of justice in his dominu ns, and
issued his command to all the boj arswho held territories
under him, to see it exercised in an exact and uniform
Russiet.
32
An. 860.
EsUblish-
S I A.
manner. We are not inforftted of the nature of his in¬
stitutions ; nor is it known whether the laws then exist¬
ing in his territories were merely oral, or were commit¬
ted to writing.
Ruric assumed the title of grand prince. His domi¬
nions extended over the present governments of Riga,
Reval, Polotsk, Pscov, Vyborg, St Petersburg, Nov¬
gorod, Smolensk, Olonetz, Archangel, Vladimir, Ya¬
roslavl, Kostroma, and Vologda.
As Ruric left only one son, Igor, who was still a mi¬
nor at his father’s death, Oleg, a kinsman of the de¬
ceased monarch, took on him the administration of af¬
fairs. Either from the natural restlessness of the Va¬
rages, or from the spirit of rebellion manifested by the
Novgoi’odians, which indicated the necessity of employ¬
ing his people in some active enterprise, the new mo¬
narch did not loniT remain idle. He appears very early
to have projected the extension of his territories, by an¬
nexing to them the settlement which the Slavi had for¬
med about Kief, against which he soon undertook a
formidable expedition. He collected a numerous army,
composed of Slavi, Varages,and Tschudes, carried with
him the young prince Igor, and opened the campaign
with the capture of Lubitch, and of Smolensk the capi¬
tal of the Krivitsches (e).
Having reduced several other towns of less conse¬
quence, he advanced towards Kief, the possession of
which formed the chief object of his ambition, as
through the Kievian territory he would have an easy
passage to the Grecian empire, by inroads into which he
could gratify the predatory disposition of his followers.
Having advanced near the walls of Kief, he did not
think it advisable to hazard an open attack, and thus
leave to the precarious decision of a battle the ultimate
success of his favourite project. He therefore had re¬
course to artifice, and leaving behind him the greater
part of his troops, he concealed the remainder in the
barks that had brought them down the Dnieper from
Smolensk. Oleg himself, disguising his name and qua¬
lity, passed for a merchant sent by Oleg and his ward
Igor on business of importance to Constantinople ; and
he dispatched officers to Oskhold and Dir, the two
chieftains of the Kievians, requesting permission to pass
through their territory into Greece, and inviting them
to visit him as friends and fellow-citizens, pretending
that indisposition prevented him from payinghis respects
to them in person. The princes, free from mistrust,
and relying on these appearances of friendship, accepted
Oleg’s invitation, and scarcely thought it necessary to
take with them their ordinary attendants. They were
soon undeceived ; for when they arrived at the regent’s
encampment, they were quickly surrounded by the Va-
ragian soldiers, who sprung from their place of conceal¬
ment in the barks. Oleg taking Igor in his arms, and
casting on the sovereigns of Kief a fierce and threaten¬
ing look, exclaimed, “ You are neither princes nor of
the race of princes ; behold the son of Ruric.” These
words, which formed the signal that had been agreed
on
(c) I he Krivitsches were a Slavonian tribe who inhabited the regions bordering on the upper parts of the ri¬
vers Volga, Dvina, Oka, and Dniepr, where are now the governments of Polotzk, Smolensk and Minsk. The
Tscbuues whom we have mentioned as forming part of Oleg’s army, were a nation of Finnish extraction, and in»
habited those districts which form part of the present governments of Pscov and Reval,
nossi,
54
An. r;
licgenc)
Oleg.
Annex: 1
of Kief
the Ruil
principi
litjr.
al bia.
5
Fir lus-
siat :pedi-
tioi gainst
Coi nti-
»o.
* oJce't
{ »!l of
. W. vol.
!• 15i,
11 U S S I A.
357
on between 0!e^ and his soldiers, were no sooner utter¬
ed, than the latter rushed on the two princes, and laid
them prostrate at the feet of their master.
The inhabitants of Kief, thrown into consternation by
this bold and treacherous act, made no resistance, but
opened the gates of their city to their invader; and thus
the two Slavonian states were united under one head.
Having thus made himself master of the key to the
eastern empire, Oleg prepared to carry into effect his
ambitious designs against Constantinople. Leaving Igor
at Kief, he himself embarked on the Dniepr with 80,000
w-irriors, on board of not fewer than 2000 vessels.
Their passage down the river met with no obstruction,
till they came to that part where its course is embarras¬
sed for nearly 15 leagues by seven rocks ; and here be¬
gan a series of perils, labours, and fatigues, which none
but barbarians could have overcome. They were obli¬
ged to unloa 1 their barks, and convey them over the
rocks; and in particular at the fourth rock, they carried
their ba<rgage for above 6000 paces, exposed to the
perpetual risk of attack from the neighbouring nations
with whom they were at war, while thus hampered and
encumbered. Having at length passed all the rocks,
and reached the mouth of the Dniepr, Oleg drew to¬
gether his scattered vessels at a small island that lies be¬
tween the points of Otchakof and Kinburn, where he
caused them to be refitted, and waited for a favourable
wind to carry him across the Black sea to the mouth of
the Dniester. Here the vessels were again refitted, and
hence the expedition coasting along the shores of the
Euxine, soon arrived at the strait of Constantinople.
The inhabitants of the imperial city, on discovering
the approach of the barbarians, had drawn a massy chain
across the harbour, thus hoping to prevent their land¬
ing. In this hope, however, they were deceived. The
invaders drew ashore their barks, fitted wheels to their
flat bottoms, and converted them into carriages, which
by the help of sails they forced along the roads that led
to the city, and thus arrived under the walls of Con¬
stantinople. In their route they ravaged the whole
country, and pillaged and demolished the houses, loaded
the inhabitants with irons, and committed other enormi¬
ties which generally attend the incursions of a barbar¬
ous enemy. The earth that had been fertilized by the
sweat of the husbandman, was now drenched with his
blood, and the sea received, as in one vast grave, both
the carcases of the dead, and the bodies of the living.
The weak Leo, who then swayed the sceptre of the
Grecian empire, instead of making a manly resistance,
is said to have attempted carrying off his enemy by poi¬
son ; bu:. th s not succeeding, he was obliged to pur¬
chase from the conqueror an ignominious peace. Thus,
even at '.hat early period, the sovereign of liussia tri¬
umphed over the emperor of Constantinople, and Oleg
acquired t e full completion of his wi hes, by the rich
booty wh eh he carried off. He made his entrance
into Kief on his return, laden with the we 1th acqui¬
red by his vict.-ry ; and the people, dazzled with such
splendid objects imagine i their prince to be endowed
'w ith supernatur 1 powers, an 1 look d up to him with a
reverence approaching to adoration.
Soon after his return to his o vn dominions, the Rus¬
sian monarch (hspatehed deputies to ons antinople,
with the artic es of a treaty which he require 1 the
Greek emperor to sign *. This treaty, which is pre¬
served in the Chronicles of Nestor, is extremely curious; Russia,
and we learn from it many important particulars respec-
ting the internal policy of the Russians at the beginning
of the tenth century. Several articles of this treaty
shew, that the Russian laws laid g;eat stress on oaths ;
tf>at they pronounced the sentence of death against the
murderer, instead of inflicting on him only a pecuniary
fine, and thus allowing the rich to commit assassination
with impunity; that wives were allowed a part of the
estates of their husbands; that the punishment of of¬
fences did not extend to the entire confiscation of goods,,
and hence the widow and orphan did not suffer for a
crime of which they w ere innocent; that robbery, which
attacks only property, was punished by the privation of
property, so that the Russian laws maintained a just pro¬
portion between the crime and the penalty; that the
citizens, secure in their possessions, were under no ap¬
prehension that the sovereign wo»ld seize on their heri¬
tage, and might even dispose of their effects in favour of
friends.
Oleg maintained the sovereign power for 33 years,
nor does it appear that Igor, even after he obtained the
age of majority, had any share in the government, till
the death of his guardian, in 913, left him in full pos¬
session of the throne.
Igor had reached his 40th year before he entered on
the government. He soon discovered marks of the same
warlike spirit which had actuated his predecessor. A-
mong the nations that had been subjugated by Oleg,
several, on the accession of a new' sovereign, attempted
to regain their independence ; in particular the Drev-
lians, who dwelt on the banks of the Uscha, in the pre¬
sent district of Vrutsch, were the first to rise in revolt.
They were, however, soon quelled, and punished by the
imposition of an increased tribute. The Uglitches, who
inhabited the southern bank of the Dniepr, maintained
a longer contest for their liberty. One of their princi¬
pal towns sustained a siege of three years, and at last
submitted on condition of the trifling tribute of a mar¬
ten’s skin blackened by fire; as these furs were valued
in proportion to the darkness of their colour.
Igor soon had to contend with more formidable ene¬
mies. The Petchenegans, a nation hitherto unknown,
quitted their settlements on the Yaik and the Volga,
and made incursions into the Russian territory. These
people appear to have been at least as powerful and war¬
like as the Varages ; and Igor finding himself unable to
cope with them in arms, concluded a treaty of alliance.
About five years alter, disputes arose between the new
allies, and both had recourse to arms. It appears that
the Russians were finally victorious, and the Petchene¬
gans were, for some time, disabled from giving Igor any
farther molestation.
The Russian monarch, in imitation of his guardian,
soon turned his attention towards the Grecian empire. Second
37
An. 913.
Accession .
Igor,
33
An. 941,
whs re depredations might apparently be made with im- pedition
punity. He equipped an immense armament, consist- against
ing, as we are assured by the Russi n annals, of 10,000 ^nstanti-
barks, each carrying 40 men, thus forming an army of nop e*
400,000 warriors. With this immense force he set sail
for Constantinople, without any previous declaration of
war, and without anyostensiblemotive for thus infringing
the treaty tha. h id been concluded some years before be¬
tween Oleg and Leo. In his route he overran and ra¬
vaged the provinces of Paphlagonia, Pontus, and Bi-
thynia.
858 11 U S
Itusbia. thynia, plundering the towns, and butchering the inha-
bitants. For some time the barbarians met with no op¬
position, as the imperial troops were engaged in distant
provinces ; but the government of the empire was now
in very different hands from those which held it during
the former invasion. The Grecian forces were well ap¬
pointed, and commanded by two generals of approved
ability and courage. These were Theophanes and
Phocas, of whom the former commanded the fleet, and
the latter the army. The Russians had soon cause to
repent their temerity. Theophanes attacked them on
board their ships, within sight of the Pharos, and throw¬
ing among them the unquenchable Grecian fire, with
the effects of which they wmre wholly unacquainted,
threw them into such confusion, that many plunged in¬
to the sea to avoid the fires that threatened and pur¬
sued them. Their vessels were dispersed, shattered,
or consumed by flames, and great numbers of their crews
perished. The remainder reached the shores of Bi-
thynia; but before they could recover from their con¬
sternation, they were met by Phocas, who fell upon them
with his troops, and made prodigious slaughter. So
great were the losses sustained by Igor in this unfortu¬
nate expedition, that he carried back with hhn scarcely
a third of his army. This second naval expedition of
the Russians against Constantinople took place in 941.
Though discouraged by the ill success which had at¬
tended his first invasion of the Grecian empire, Igor was
too much stimulated by the desire of plunder, not to
risk the second attempt. Three years after, he collected
new forces, took into pay many of the Petchenegans,
and again set out for Greece ; but before he had ad¬
vanced beyond the Taui ican Chersonesus, the emperor
Romanus, informed of his approach, and not choosing to
hazard the result of an engagement, sent deputies to the
Russian leader, offering to pay him the same tribute
which had been given to his predecessor. With this
offer Igor complied, and once more retired with his
army.
Igor was now far advanced in years ; but the insati¬
able rapacity of his officers, ever craving fresh spoils
from vanquished nations, impelled him to turn his arms
against the Drevlians, for the purpose of obtaining from
them an increase of their yearly tribute. In this unjust
attack he was at first successful, and returned loaded
with the contributions which he had levied from that
people; but having dismissed great part of his troops
with the spoils of the vanquished, and marching with
the remainder too far into the country, he fell into an
ambuscade, which the Drevlians, now grown desperate,
had formed on his approach in the neighbourhood of
Korosten. The Russians were soon overpowered, and
3<j Igor being made prisoner, was put to death.
An. 945. Before the death of Oleg, Igor had married a prin-
Regency of cess 0f a bold and daring spirit, named Olga, by whom
<^'i' lie had one son, Sviatoslaf ; but as he was very young at
the death of his father, the queen mother Olga assumed
the reins of government. Her first ca' e was to take
signal vengeance on the unhappy Drevlians, for having
bravely defended themselves against the encroachments
of tyranny and oppression. These people, satisfied with
the death of their oppressor, appeared desirous of renew¬
ing their amicable intercourse with the Russians, and
their chief, Male, is even said to have made an offer of
his hand to Igor's widow. Olga, with that deep cim-
S I A.
ning and concealed malice that so often mark the eha- Russia
racter of the despotic leader of a barbarous people, pre- ’•’r*
tended to listen to their overtures, received the deputies
of Male, but immediately ordered them to be privately
put to death. In the mean time she invited a larger
deputation from the Drevlian chief, which she treated
in the same inhuman manner, taking care that no tid¬
ings of either murder should be carried to the Drevli¬
ans. She then set out, as if on an amicable visit, to
conclude the new alliance, and having proclaimed a so¬
lemn entertainment, to which she invited mme hund¬
reds of the principal inhabitants of the Drevlian towns,
she caused them to be treacherously assassinated. This
was but the first step to the more dreadful vengeance
which she had resolved to inflict on this deluded people.
She laid waste the whole country of the Drevlians, and
in particular the town of Korosten, near which Igor had
lost his life. For a long time she could not master the
place, as the inhabitants, dreading the horrible fate that
awaited them, from the revengeful spirit of Olga, de¬
fended themselves with the utmost valour and success.
At length, being assured of clemency, on condition of
sending to Olga all the pigeons of the town, they sub¬
mitted ; but (Rga causing lighted matches to he fasten¬
ed to the tails of the pigeons, set them at liberty. The
birds flew to their usual places of residence in the town,
which were speedily in a conflagration. The wretched
inhabitants endeavouring to escape the flames, fell into
the handsofthe Russian soldiers, planted round the town
for that purpose, by whom they were put to the sword.
This was the only warlike transaction, if it deserves
that name, which took place during the regency of Ol¬
ga. Though not uncommon in the annals of a barba¬
rous people, it would have been sufficient to hand down
her name with detestation to posterity, had she not, in
the opinion of her panegyrists, atoned lor the enormity,
by attempting to introduce into her dominions the Chri¬
stian religion. 40
Tditherto the Slavi, and the Scandinavian nations who Relig™
had taken possession of their territories, were Pagans ; ^ie i
and their religious ceremonies, like those of all the sur¬
rounding nations, were marked by an absurd and cruel
superstition, which, under pretence of worshipping the
Supreme being, insulted his attributes, and increased in¬
stead of lessening the miseries of human nature. Their
deities seem to have been borrowed, partly from the
Greeks and Romans,and partly from the Scythians; but
were characterised by peculiar names, and represented
by idols of complex workmanship and grotesque ap¬
pearance. Thus, the god Perune, or Perkune, who
was the chief among the Slavonian deities, analogous to
the Zeus of the Grecian, and the Jupiter of the Roman
mythology, was personated by an idol whose head wTas of
silver, his ears; and mustachios of massy gold, his legs of
iron, and his trunk of hard incorruptible wood. It was
decorated with rubies and carbuncles, and held in its
hand a stone carved, to represent the symbol of light¬
ning. The sacred fire burnt continually before it; and
if the priests suffered this to be extinguished, they veie
doomed to perish in the flames, as enemies of the god.
Sacrifices of their flocks to this supreme deity were re¬
garded as trifling ; his altar smoked with the blood of
captives, and even the children of his worshippers were
sometimes immolated to appease his wrath or propiti¬
ate bis favour. Superstition has in all ages, tinged the
har.dj
It U S S I A*
p *
t
Jon sion
ft ito
’hi a*
lit)
’ ‘2
Rc 0f
Svi -laf.
hands of its pontiffs with blood, and has everywhere
represented the Deity as a cruel and malignant being
delighting in the spectacle of suffering humanity.
It is uncertain at what time the light of Christianity
began to beam on the nations that occupied the banks
of the Dniepr, nor are we acquainted with the circum¬
stances that led to the conversion of the queen regent.
We find, however, that about the middle of the 10th
century, she undertook a journey to Constantinople for
the express purpose of being initiated into the religion
of Jesus Constantine Porphyrogenitus, who then sat on
the imperial throne, received the royal convert with the
greatest honour andrespect; himself conductedher to the
baptismal font, and, iruhe characterpf her sponsor,gave
her the name of Helen. He dismissed her loaded with
rich presents, consisting chiefly of thosefine stuffswhich
were then fabricated only in the east, and several costly
vases. In return for the honour she had received at
Constantinople, Olga promised to send the emperor a
quantity of furs and wax, and to furnish him with
troops: but as she delayed the performance of her pi*o-
mise, Constantine despatched an embassy to remind her
of her engagements. We are told that she treated the
ambassadors with disrespectfullevity,anddismissedthem
with frigid compliments; so little change had baptism
effected on the insidious disposition of the Russian prin¬
cess ! It is no wonder, therefore, if her example had
little influence on her son, or the nation at large. The
Russians do not seem to have been very ardent in their
religious observations, or peculiarly attached to the opi¬
nions of their forefathers; but the nature of Christiani¬
ty, and the character of its disciples, were not in their
eyes sufficiently striking or alluring to produce any
change in their religious system. Olga endeavoured to
persuade her son Sviatoslaf to embrace her newreligion;
but either from his contempt for the unwarlike charac¬
ter of the Greek Christians, or through fear of the ridi¬
cule to which his conversion might subject him from
his young companions, he disregarded her solicitations.
He did not, however, prevent the people over whom he
seems by this time to have assumed the chief dominion,
from receiving baptism, and a few proselytes were made.
Though the character of Olga, even after her conver¬
sion to Christianity, was by no means such as to intitle
her to the rank which she afterwards attained among
the Russian saints, it appears that she had given her son
many wise and prudent instructions respecting the go¬
vernment of his future empire. She travelled with him
round the country; superintended the erection of bridges
and the making of roads, for the benefit of trade and
commerce; built several towns and villages, and found¬
ed such laudable institutions, as sufficiently evince her
talents for governing a nation. She died about the year
90\9, at a very advanced age.
It is probable that Olga retired from the administra¬
tion of affairs soon after her conversion to Christianity;
for we find Sviatoslaf in full possession of the govern¬
ment long before his mother’s death. This prince lias
been considered one of the Russian heroes; and if a
thirst for blood, a contempt of danger, and disregard of
the luxuries and conveniences of life, be admitted as the
characteristics of a hero, he deserves the appellation.
His private life wassuehas to render him the favouriteof
his army. Regarding the narrow inclosure of a palace
as little better than a splendid prison, he took up his
859
Russia.
43
habitation in a camp, where he indulged himself in no¬
thing more delicate or costly than what could be pro¬
em ed by the meanest soldier in his army. Vvithout
a utensil tor preparing his food, lie contented himself
with cutting up the meat which was to form his meals,
and broiling it upon the coals ; and this meat often con¬
sisted ot horse flesh. If he kept so poor a table, he w as
not more delicately lodged. He had no tent, but slept
in the open field, with a saddle for his pillow, a horse¬
cloth for his covering, and lying on the bare ground,
or at most on a piece of the coarsest felt. How much
influence such a mode ot life must have had on the
minds ot the barbarous soldiers whom he commanded,
is sufficiently proved by the experience of times far po¬
ster] or to that ot whichwearenow writing. TheSwedish
hero who, in the beginning of the 18th century, astonish¬
ed the whole ot Europe with his mad exploits, fared in
a similar manner, and, like Sviatoslaf, became the dar¬
ling ot his troops. Soldiers willingly share dangers and
death with a leader who submits'himself to every hard¬
ship, and denies himself every accommodation, except
what he can enjoy in common w-ith themselves.
When Sviatoslaf had thus ingratiated himself with An. 965.
h;s troops, he prepared to employ them in those ambi¬
tious projects which he had long been forming. His
fiist expedition was against the Kozates, a people who
had come from the shores of the Caspian, and the sides
of Mount Caucasus, andhadestablished themselves along
the eastern coast of the Black sea. These people had
rendered tributary both the Kievians and the Viateches,
a Slavonian nation that dwelt on the banks of the Oka
and the V olga. Sviato laf, desirous of transferring to
himseli tne tribute Avliich the Kozares derived from
the latter people, marched against them, and appears to
ha\e succeeded in his design. IJe defeated them in a
pitched battle, and took by storm their capital city Sar-
kel, or Belgorod. It is said by some historians, that he
even annihilated the nation; and certain it is, that from
that time no mention is made of the Kozares. 41
1 he mar tial fame of feviatoslat had extended to Con- His alliance
stantinople; and the emperor Nicephorus Phocas, who with the
was then harassed by the Ungrians, assisted by his ^ree^ cm'
treacherous allies, the Bulgarians, applied for succours peror’
to the Russian chieftain. A subsidiary treaty was enter¬
ed into between them, and Sviatoslaf hastened with a
numerous army to the assistance of his new allies. He
quickly made himself master of most of the Bulgarian
towns along the Danube, and was so elated with his
success, that he determined to remove the seat of go¬
vernment from Kief to the city of Pereiaslavatz, now
Yamboly, seated on the shores of that river. He was
soon obliged, however, to postpone the completion of
this design, on receiving intelligence that his old ene¬
mies the Petchenegans had assembled in great num¬
bers, ravaged the Kievian territory, and laid siege to
the capital, within the walls of which were shut up his
mother and his sons. Sviatoslaf hastened to the relief
of his family, but before he reached home, the Pet¬
chenegans had been induced to raise the. siege by an
artifice of the Kievian general. Sviatoslaf on his arri¬
val pursued the enemy, defeated them, and obliged them
to sue for peace. ^ ^
He now resumed his design of establishing himself on n;s divj£;oa
the banks of the Danube, and divided his hereditary of the priiv*
 j i' -
dominions among his children. He gave Kief to Ya- cipality.
ropolk.
Sfio K tr s
Jfmsin. ropolk> t|ie I^revli^n territory to Ole?, and on Vladi-
rnjr> a natural son, born to him by one of the attendants
of Olga, he bestowed the government of Novgorod.
On his return to Bulgaria, however, he found that hi?
affairs had assumed a very different aspect. The Bul¬
garians taking advantage of his absence withhis troops,
had recovered most of their towns, and seemed well
prepared to resist theencroachments of a foreign power.
They fell on Sviatoslaf as he approached the walls of
Pereiaslavatz, and began the attack with so much fury,
that at first the Russians were defeated with great
slaughter. They, however, soon rallied, and taking
courage from despair, renewed the battle with so much
success, that they in their turn became masters of the
field. Sviatodaf took possession of the town, and soon
recovered all that he had last.
During these transactions the emperor Nicephorus
had been assassinated,and John Zemisces, hismurderer,
had succeeded to the imperial diadem. The new em¬
peror sent ambassadors to the Russian monarch, requir¬
ing him to comply with the stipulations of his treaty
with Nicephorus, and evacuate Bulgaria, which he had
agreed to occupy as an ally, but not as a master. Svia¬
toslaf refused to give up his newly acquired possessions,
and prepared to decide the contest by force of arms.
The particulars of this campaign, and the numbers of
tfie contending armies, are very differently related by
the Russian annalists, and the historians of the Grecian
empire ; the former staging that Sviatoslaf had not more
than 10,000 men, and yet was victorious over the
troops of Zemisces; while the Grecian historians affirm
that*the Russians amounted to 300,000, but were de¬
feated, and compelled to abandon Bulgaria by the su¬
perior skill and discipline of the imperial troops. As
far as respects the issue of the war, the Grecian writers
ere probably correct, for it is ce> tain that Sviatoslaf re¬
treated towards Russia with the shattered remains of his
army. He did not, however, live to reach the capital,
for having, contrary to the advice of his most experien¬
ced officers, attempted to return to Kief, up the dan¬
gerous navigation of the Dnieper, he wasintercepted by
the Petchenegans near the rocks that form the cataracts
of that river. After remaining on the defensive du¬
ring winter, exposed to all the horrors of famine and
disease, he on the return of spring attempted to force
his way through the ranks of the enemy : but his troops
were defeated, and himself killed in the battle.
It is said that Sviatoslaf extended the boundaries of
the Russian dominions by his conquests in Bulgaria;
but if his expeditions in that quarter terminated in the
manner which we have related, this extension must
have been merely temporary, and seems to have had
little effect in increasing the power and resources of his
successors.
An. 973. Yaropolk the sovereign of Kief may he considered as
Succession the successor ot Sviatoslaf on the Russian throne ; but
of Yaro- hjg reign was short and turbulent. A war took place
I’olk' between him and his brother (Teg, on account of a ba<e
assassination committed by the latter on the son of his
father’s friend and privy counsellor Svenald. Oleg
•was defeated and slain, and the other brother, Vladi¬
mir, dreading the increased rower and ambitious dispo¬
sition of Yaropolk, abandoned his dominions, which
were quickly seized on by the Kievian prince. Vladi¬
mir had re'bed among the Varagians, from whom he
S I A-
soon procured such succours as enabled him to make Itiun,
effectual head against the usurper. While his natural Vvw
courage was thus increased, his enmity against Yaro¬
polk received an additional spur from an affront put on
him by a lady whom he had sought in marriage, but
who despising the meanness of his birth, as beincr the
son of a slave, had rejected his proposals, and offered
her hand to Yaropolk. The vindictive Vladimir, on
being informed of this insult, attacked the possessions
of the lady’s father, put both him and his two sons to
the sword, and obliged the princess to accept his hand,
jTet reeking with the blood of her father. He now ad¬
vanced towards Kief, where Yaropolk was by no mems
p epared to oppose him. The Kievian prince had in¬
deed been lulled into security by the treacherous re¬
ports of one of his voyevodes, who was iti the interest
of Vladimir, and who not only prevented Yaropolk from
takingeffectual measures for his safety, but found means
to raise suspicions in his breast against the inhabitants of
his capital, which he thus induced him to abandon.
The Kievians, left without a leader, opened their gates
to Vladimir ; and the wretched Yaropolk, still misled
by the treachery of his adviser, determined to throw
himself on the mercy of his brother. It is probable that
this would have availed him little, as Vladimir seems to
have determined on his death ; but before he could
reach the arms of his revengeful brother, Yaropolk was
assassinated by some of his Varagian followers. (}>
By this murder, which had ptobably been planned An.
by Vladimir, the conqueror acquired the undivided pos¬
session of all his father’s territories, and maintained the
sovereignty during a long reign, respected at home, and
feared abroad. Indeed, had not the commencement of
his reign been stained with the blood of his father-in-
liw and his brother, we might place him among the
most distinguished monarchs of the age in which he
lived, as he not only extended and enriched his empire,
but was the means of establishing in his dominions on a
firm and lasting basis, the Christian religion, which
though introduced by Olga, appears hitherto to have
made but a very trifling progress. n . f
The commencement of Vladimir’s reign formed butviad;mjt
a continuation of those enormities which had conducted the Greri
him to the throne. He began with removing Blude,
the treacherous voyevode, by whom his brother had
been betrayed into his power, and to whom he had
promised the highest honours and dignities. Accord¬
ingly for three d .ys he suffered Blude to live in all the
splendour of a prince. At the end of that period he
thus addressed him. “ I have fulfilled my promise; I
have treated thee as my friend : the honours thou bast
received exceed thy most sanguine wishes To day ai
the judge of crimes, and the executor of justice, I con¬
demn the traitor, and punish the assassin of his prince."
Having uttered these w ord^, he caused Blude to be put
to death.
He displayed still more the perfidiousness of his cha¬
racter in his behaviour towards the Varagians, who had
assisted in reinstating him on the throneot his ancestors;
for on their requesting permission to go and ',eek their
fortune in Greece, he granted their request, but private¬
ly advertised the emperor of their approach, and caused
them to be arrested and secured.
Vladimir engaged in numerous wars, and subjected
several of the neighbouring sta'es to his dominion. He
seized
K iia.
)
i)rif aUy
i di ut
Pag ,
)
Est ishes
Chi ani-
tyi tus-
ia,
II U S S I A.
351
seized on part of the Polish territories, and compelled
the Bulgarians who dwelt in the districts that now form
the government of Kazan, to do him homage. He sub¬
dued the Petchenegans and Khazares, who lay in the
immediate neighbourhood of the Kievian state ; he re¬
duced to his authority Halitsch and Vladimir, countries
which are now called Gallicia and Lubomiria ; he con¬
quered Lithuania as far as to Memel, and took posses¬
sion of a great part of the modern Livonia.
His conduct after these successes by no means prog¬
nosticated his future zeal for the Christian religion.
None of the Russian monarchs appear to have been
more devout in the adoration of their heathen deities
than Vladimir. It was usual for him to return thanks
to the gods for the success which they had granted to
his arms; and to show his gratitude by offering on their
altars a part of the prisoners he had taken in war. On
one occasion his piety extended so far, that he resolved
on selecting one of his owm subjects as the object of his
sacrifice, thinking that he should thus more worthily
testify his gratitude for the signal favours he had re¬
ceived from heaven. His choice fell on a young Va-
ragian, the son of a Christian, and who had been
brought up in the new faith. The unhappy father re¬
fused the demanded victim; the people enraged at
deeming their prince and their religion insulted by the
refusal, assailed the house of the Christian, and having
burst open the doors, butchered both the father and the
son, folded in mutual embraces.
Yet this furious Pagan, and bloody warrior, after¬
wards became a most zealous Christian, and a shining
example to his subjects of charity and benevolence.
The circumstances that led to these important changes
are, as well as the martial achievements of this favourite
prince, related -with great minuteness by the Russian
annalists, and give this part of their chronicles the air
rather of a historical romance, than a narrative of facts.
We are told that the fame of Vladimir’s military ex¬
ploits had rendered him so formidable to the neighbour¬
ing nations, that each courted his alliance, and strove
to render this more lasting by engaging him in the ties
of the same religion with themselves. In particular the
Grecian emperors sent to him a philosopher, whose ex¬
hortations, though they did not at first induce Vladimir
to embrace the Greek ritual, at least succeeded in
giving him a favourable opinion of it; so that the phi¬
losopher was entertained with respect, and returned
home loaded with presents. We are also told, that, de¬
termined to act in the most impartial manner with re¬
spect to the several religions which he had been invit¬
ed to embrace, he dispatched persons remarkable for
their wisdom and sagacity, to visit the surrounding na¬
tions, observe the religious tenets and ceremonies that
distinguished them, and report to him the result of
their observations. On the return of these deputies,
the report of those who had visited the churches of Con¬
stantinople. and witnessed the imposing splendour of re¬
ligious adoration, and the gorgeous decorations of the
Greek priests, in the superb basilicum of St Sophia,
proved so satisfactory to Vladimir, that he determined
on embracing the Christian religion according to the
observances of the Greek church. Though he resol¬
ved on baptism, he was too proud to seek from the
Greek emperor a priest, by whom the solemn ordinance
might be performed. With a savage ferocity worthy
Vox.. XV11I. Part I.
of the tilnes in which he lived, he determined to gain Russh.
by conquest what his haughty soul disdained to ac-
quire by request. He assembled an army selected from
all the nations of which his empire was composed, and
marching to Taurida, laid siege to Theodosia, a town
even then of great repute, and which commanded the
whole Chersonesus. On sitting down before the walls
of this place, he is said to have offered up the following
characteristic prayer : “ O God grant me thy help t >
take this town, that I may carry from it Christians and
priests, to instruct me and my people, and convey the
true religion into my dominions.” His prayer was at
length granted; and, rather by stratagem than force, he
made himself master of the town, and through it, of
the whole Crimea. He might now have received
baptism; but his desire of being initiated into the
Christian faith seems to have been excited more by am¬
bition than by true devotion. His ruling passion pro¬
mised to be amply gratified by an alliance with the
Grecian emperors, as he would thus acquire some legal
claim on the territories which they possessed. He there¬
fore demanded in marriage, Anna, the sister of Basilius
and Constantine, who jointly held the imperial dignity,
threatening, that if they refused his proffered alliance,
he would lay siege to Constantinople. After some de¬
liberation, the emperors complied, on condition that
Vladimir and his people should become Christians; and
these conditions being accepted, the Russian monarch
was baptized, took the name of Basilius, received the
Grecian princess, and, as the reward of his victories,
carried off several popes and archimandrites, together
with sacred vessels and church books, images of saints,
and consecrated relicks. ^
Whatever might have been the considerations that His latter
swayed with Vladimir in his conversion to the Christian character,
faith, it is certain that his new religion had the happiest
influence on his future life and conduct. He not only
abjured idolatry himself, and destroyed the idols which
he had caused to be raised in his dominions, but used
every exertion to persuade and compel his subjects to
follow his example. Before his conversion, he is said
to have possessed five wives, and 800 concubines, but
after he became a Christian, he maintained an unshaken
fidelity towards the imperial princess. As a Pagan he
had been lavish of human blood, and set but a tiifling
value on the life of a man ; but after he had adopted the
religion of Jesus, be could scarcely be persuaded to sen¬
tence to death a single highway robber. His former
delight had been in storming towns and gaining battles;
but he now found his greatest pleasure in building
churches, and endowing seminaries of education. He
encouraged the raising of new cities and towns; peopled
the waste districts of his country with the prisoners
whom he had taken in war; and not only conducted
himself as a sovereign who consulted the welfare of his
dominions, but displayed many amiable qualities that
highly endeared him to his subjects. On great festivals,
he was accustomed to give entertainments to the inhabi¬
tants of the capital, and to send refreshments to those
who -were prevented, by sickness or infirmity, from at¬
tending the public feast. By these marks of regard to
the general and individual interests of his people, he
contributed to won them from the old religion, and to
give them a taste for the new doctrines which he profes¬
sed. By showing that Christianity had.made him bo h
t Z z A
S62
It u s
Itujsia.
An. 1015.
52
Death and
character
of Vladi¬
mir.
53
His im¬
provement
of the Uus-
sian monar¬
chy.
a milder and a wiser prince, lie insured from his people
a respect for the new religion, while the striking exam¬
ple of the sovereign and his nobles could not fail to in¬
fluence the minds of the inferior orders. Having one
day issued a proclamation, ordering all the inhabitants
of Kief to repair next morning to the banks of the river
to be baptized, the people cheerfully obeyed the order,
observing that if it wei'e not good to be baptized, the
prince and the boyars would never submit to the cere¬
mony'.
TheestablishmentofChristianity in the Russian domi¬
nions, forms one of the most prominent features in the
reign of Vladimir, and gives him a much jusier claim
to the title of Greed, which has been bestowed on him
by historians, than all his numerous victories. We
have therefore dwelt on it with the greater minuteness.
Indeed the latter transactions of his reign afford but
little interest. His last days were embittered by do¬
mestic vexations; his wife and one of his favourite sons
died long before him, and another of his sons, Yaroslaf,
on whom he had bestowed the government of Novgo¬
rod, refused to acknowledge him as his liege, and applied
to the Varagians for assistance against his father. The
aged Vladimir, compelled to march against a rebellious
son, died with grief upon the road, after a long and glo¬
rious reign of 35 years.
The character of this monarch may be easily collect¬
ed from the account we have given of the transactions
that marked his reign. He had certainly great, if not
amiable qualities; and if he failed m communicating to
his subjects the zeal for civilization and improvement
which he himself possessed, it was the fault rather of the
times, than of the instructor. His country remained
barbarous, because barbarism was the characteristic of
the age, and the monarch himself rose but little above
the character of a barbarian, because the times in which
he lived did not admit of superior refinement. It has
been well observed by an ingenious writer on the history
of Russia, that it is scarcely possible for a man to rise far
above his cotemporaries, and that had Vladimir lived
in the 17th century, the civilization and refinement of
Russia might have been imputed to him, as it is now
imputed to Peter the Great.
Notwithstanding the circumstances we have noticed,
the improvement which Russia owed to this prince was
great and permanent. With the Christian religion he
imported from Greece the arts which then flourished in
that empire, and almost entirely new-modelled the lan¬
guage of his country, by engrafting on it the more re¬
fined dialect of the Greeks, and adopting, in a great
measure* the letters of their alphabet. See Philo¬
logy.
The dominions of Russia, which at first consisted of
two principalities, that of Novgorod, bordering on the
Baltic, and that of Kief, occupying no very large space
on the eastern bank of the Dniepr, were, by the victories
of Vladimir, extended westward along the shores of the
Baltic, into Lithuania and Poland ; southward along
the shores of the Euxine, so as to include the Crimea
and great part of the Bulga? ian territories ; while to the
east it extended to the Oka, the Don and the Volga.
He still maintained the seat of government at Kief, of
which he was styled grand prince, while the other di¬
stricts were either tributary to that principality, or held
of it as their superior.
S I A.
Before his death, Vladimir had divided his extensive Hum
territories among his twelve sons, reserving to hirmelf
and his immediate heir, the grand principality of Kief. part^tjon
The consequences of this ill-judged distribution were 0f clo_
disunion, contention, andalmostperpetual warfareamong minions
the brothers. The most respectable, and in the end am°ns; his
the most powerful of these, was Yaroslaf, or as he is stm*’
commonly called Jarislaus, prince of Novgorod. This
prince finding that Sviatopolk, who had raised himself
to the sovereignty of Kief after his father’s death, at¬
tempted by assassination, or force of arms, to take posses¬
sion of the neighbouring principalities, determined to
resist him in his encroachments. Collecting an army of
Novgorodians, he in 101b, drove Sviatopoik from Kief,
and forced him to seek an asylum with his father-in-
law, Boleslaus, duke of Poland. Boleslaus was easi'y
persuaded to engage in the cause of his son-in-law, as he
hoped to reap advantage from the quarrels among the
descendants of Vladimir, and not only regain that part
of his dominions which had been conquered by that
prince, but enlarge his territory by encroachments on
the Russian borders. He therefore accompanied Sviato¬
polk into Russia with an army, retook Kief, and obliged
the Novgorodian prince to retire with precipitation.
While he was endeavouring to collect fresh forces to re¬
new the war with Boleslaus and Sviatopolk, the latter,
by the treachery and perfidy with which he treated his
Polish allies, contributed to his own downfall. He
caused great numbers of the Poles to be secretly
massacred, a transaction by which Boleslaus was so in¬
censed, that he plundered Kief, made himself master of
several places on the Russian frontiers, and then left his
perfidious son-in-law to shift for himself. Sviatopolk
now sought assistance Irorn the Petchenegans, and with
an army of these auxiliaries, offered battle to Yaroslaf,
not far from the place, where he had, four years before,
caused one of his brothers to be be murdered. The con¬
test was long and bloody, but terminated in favour of
Yaroslaf. Sviatopolk was put to flight, and died soon
after. ►.
By this victory Yaroslaf acquired possession of the Reign of
greater part of his father's dominions, and testified his Yaroslaf.
gratitude tor the assistance given him by the Novgoro-
dians, by the attention which he paid to the particular
improvement of that state. He drew up for it a code
ot laws, which are still known by the appellation of the
municipal law of Novgorod. He also exerted him¬
self for the welfare of other towns, and of the country
at large.
Yaroslaf did not neglect the advancement of the An. 1051
Christian religion. He established a metropolitan in
Kief, and thus gave to the Russian clergy a head, who
might watch over the morals of the inferior pastors, and
provide for t ie general dissemination of the Christian
doctrine. He collected several books in the Greek reli¬
gion, and caused many of them to be translated into the
Russian language.
This monarch is supposed to have died in 1054, and An, 1055
to have reigned 35 year's. He followed the example of
his father, in dividing his territories among Ids sons,
though he endeavoured to prevent the dissensions w hich
he himself had witnessed from such a partition, by ex¬
horting them on his death-bed, to the most intimate
concord, and endeavouring to convince them that they
would be respected by their subjects, and feared by their -
enemies.
L.
usai*.
r,c>
f) ;nsions
ai ig the
si “ssors
#i jroslaf,
37
f in of
t! nodern
il ion of
l >ia,
.58
e of
fgorod,
R U S
enemies, only while they continued to act with uimm-
inity.
We know little of the proceedings of Yarodaf's suc¬
cessors, except that Isiaslaf, his eldest son, and grand
prince of Kief, had frequent disputes with his brothers,
in which he was assisted by the Poles, and supported by
the influence of the Roman pontiff. During these dis¬
putes he was once expelled from his dominions, but
again recovered them, and reigned till 10?8.
From the death of Isiaslaf to the beginning of the
13th century, the history of Russia comprises little else
than a continued series of intestine commotions and petty
warfareswith the neighbouring states. The same system
of dismemberment was continued by the succeeding
princes, and was attended with the same result. There
were during this period not fev'er than 17 independent
principalities, though these were at length reduced to
seven, viz. those of Kief, Novgorod, Smolensk, Vladi¬
mir, Tver, Halitch, and Moskva (Mosco). Of these.
Kief and Novgorod long continued to be the most
powerful, though they could not always maintain their
superiority over the other principalities; and towards
the latter end of the period which we have mentioned,
the district of Vladimir erected itself into a grand prin¬
cipality, and became at least as powerful as Kief and
Novgorod.
In the supremacy of these three great principalities,
we may trace the division of European Russia into
Great, Little, and White Russia, a distinction which
long maintained its ground, and in later times gave to
the sovereign of this empire the title of monarch or
emperor of all the Russias. Great Russia comprehended
the principality of Novgorod, and extended northward
to the White sea, eastward to the river Dvina, and the
entrance of the Retchora into the Uralian mountains ;
while to the south it bordered on the district of Vladi¬
mir, as far as the Volga and the mouth of the Meclre-
ditza, and to the "west on Lithuania and Prussia, in¬
cluding the tributary tribes on the Baltic, as far as
Memek Its capital was Novgorod. Little Russia ex¬
tended along the river .Ager to the north above the Do-
netz and the Oka, on the east to the Polovtzes and the
Petchenegans, while to the south it stretched as far as
the Taurican Chersonesus, or the Crimea, snd to the
west along the hanks of the river Goryn. Th iswas
the principality of Kief, and in that city was held the
seat of government. The principality of Vladimir re¬
ceived the name of White Russia. It extended north¬
ward along the Volga, to the southern boundary of
Great Russia; to the east it bordered on the possessions
of the Ugres, and the territory of the Mordvines,
stretching down the Volga to the mouth of the Oka;
to the south it extended along the Oka to the principa¬
lity of F< iazan, and the Bulgarian territory. The me¬
tropolis of this division was at first Shuia, afterwards
Rostof, Susclal, and Vladimir, till at length the seat of
government was transferred to Mosco.
The principality of Novgorod appears, during this in¬
terval, to have been the most respectable for its commer¬
cial intercourse with the neighbouring nations, and for
the independent spirit of its internal government. This,
though nominally monarchical, seems to have possessed
much of a republican character. The princes were evi¬
dently dependent cn the people, and some ludicrous in¬
stances of this dependence are related by the old histori-
S I A. SC)3
an?. One of the grand princes had so fnnch displeased Russia,
his people, that they refused to pay him their usual obe- '
dience. As the prince seems to have been aware of the
little influence which he possessed in the state, he em¬
ployed the metropolitan of the principality to negotiate
a reconciliation. This prelate accordingly wrote to the
Novgorodians in the following terms. ‘f The grand
prince has acted wrong towards you, but he is sorry for
it, desires you to forgive him, and will behave better * Tooke's
for the future. I will be surety for him, and beseech Jlnssia,
you to receive him with honour and dignity vol. i.
During the intestine broils that attended the dismem- P’
bevment of the Russian monarchy, the ambition of its f
neighbours, and partly the folly of the contending the^oles,
princes, who solicited their assistance against their rivals, &c,
contributed to diminish the strength and resources of
the empire. In particular the Poles and the Hunga¬
rians availed themselves of these circumstances. Invited
into Russia by the rival princes, and allured by the hope
of plunder, they readily lent their aid to any of the par¬
ties. By ravaging the towns and villages, carrying off
the captives into slavery, and making a prey of whatever
appeared most useful, they quickly recompensed them¬
selves for their assistance. The Poles seem to have
been most successful in their depredations, and to have
fully revenged themselves tor their former humilia-
tiom _ «o
It is not surprising tnat a state of anarchy and confu- Invasion of
sion, such as we have described, should hold out a temp- tJie Tartm,
tation to any powerful nation to attempt at acquiring
the dominion of a people who showed that they were
incapable of governing themselves. Not far from the
confines of Vladimir and Kief, viz. in the neighbour¬
hood of the sea of Aral, the wandering hordes of Mon-
goles, or Mongol Tartars, had taken up their residence.
These people appear to have descended from the ancient
Scythians, and to have long dwelt on the confines of
the Chinese empire. Hence they gradually marched
westward, and about 1223 arrived on the shores of the
sea of Aral, under the conduct of Tusehi, son of the
famous Tschinghis Khan, chief of tke Mogul empire,
many of whose warlike exploits have been recounted
under the article Monuo. From the Aral, Tuschi
conducted his horde along the shores cf the Caspian,
and gradually approached the Dniepr. In his course
he attacked and overcame the Tscherkcsses, or Circas¬
sians, who on his approach had joined with the Polov¬
tzes, to resist the terrible enemy. The defeated Polov¬
tzes gave notice to their neighbours the Russians, of the
approaching storm, and invited them to form a common
cause against the enemy. In the mean time the Tartars
had sent ambassadors to the Russians, hoping to prevent
their alliance with the Polovtzes, and thus the more
easily subdue the disunited nations. For this time,
however, the Russians were true to their own interest,
and proved firm to their alliance. In concert with the
Polovtzes, they assembled an army, and prepared to re¬
sist the incursions of the Tartars. Both parties met
near the small river Kalka, which flows into the se i of
Asof, and a furious engagement took place. The Rus¬
sians fought with great intrepidity, but the Polovtzes
thrown into consternation at the furious onset of the
Tartar’s, suddenly betook themselves to flight. As they
formed the van-guard, their flight put the Russian army,
which was drawn up behind them, into such complete
Z z 2 disorder.
HUS
disorder, tli&t a total route ensued. Tire prince of Kief,
who had kept himself aloof during the engagement, at¬
tempted to resist the victorious Tartars, but his army
was attacked and defeated with great slaughter.
Had the p'inces who then shared among them the
Russian territories firmly united against the common
enemy, there is little doubt that they might have stem¬
med the torrent, which soon, from their state of rival-
ship and disunion, burst in and overwhelmed them.
About 13 years after the defeat on the Kalka, another
horde of Tartars, headed by Baaty Khan, the grandson
of Tschinghis-khan, penetrated into Russia,after having
attacked and defeated their neighbours the Bulgarians.
The Tartars soon spread far and wide the terror of their
name. Wherever they came, the whole face of nature
was laid waste; towns and villages were destroyed by
fire; a’l the men capable of bearing arms were put to
the sword, and the children, women, and old men, car¬
ried into captivity. If the inhabitants of the towns to
which they approached offered a compromise, the faith¬
less barbarians affected to receive their submission; but
immediately broke the agreement, and ti-eated thosewho
surrendered to their mercy with as much rigour as those
who had endeavoured to defend themselves, and had
been overcome. If the inhabitants of the open towns
and villages came out to meet them, and to receive them
as conquerors and friends ; death, torture, or the most
ignominious bondage, was the reward of their sponta¬
neous submission.
The first state which they attacked was Riazan, the
f>rince of which applied for assistance to Yury, common-
y called by hi^torians, George Sevoloditch, grand prince
of Vladimir, who was then chief of the Russian princes.
He sent them a few auxiliaries, but they either came
too late, or their number was too small. The principa¬
lity of Riazan fell, and its fall was succeeded by that of
Pereiaslavl, Rostof, Susdal, and several others. Like a
furious torrent rushing down the mountain’s side, and
irresistibly carrying with it all that impedes its progress,
these barbarous hordes rolled their rapid course, carry¬
ing in their train fire and sword, ravages and desolation,
torments and death, and sweeping all before them in
one common devastation. They now approached the
principality of Vladimir, and no army appeared to resist
them on the frontiers. They advanced unimpeded to
the capital, which, left to its fate by the grand prince,
had nothing to expect, but the same cruel treatment
which the neighbouring cities had received. Yury,
with unpardonable negligence, was celebrating a mar¬
riage feast, when he ought to have been employed in
collecting the means of defence against the enemy, of
whose approach to his borders he had received timely
intimation. The city of Vladimir, which contained the
princess and two of her sons, was left to the protection
of a chieftain, totally unqualified for its defence, and
the inhabitants seemed to share the pusillanimity of their
governor. Instead of annoying the enemy by occasion¬
al excursions, and preparing the means of defending the
walls against a sudden attack, they gave themselves up
to terror and despair; and as they conceived death to
be inevitable, they prepared for it, by taking the habits
of monks and nuns, in ordgr to insure to themselves a
blissful departure. A prey to fear and despondency,
the-city soon fell into the hands of the Tartars. They
one morning scaled the walls., gnd mee.ing with little
$ I A.
opposition, quickly made themselves masters of the place; Kassia j
when they cast aside every feeling of humanity, and
like beasts of prey, glutted their appetite for blood a-
mong the wretched inhabitants. The grand princess*
and other ladies of distinction, dreading the brutality of
the relentless conquerors, had taken refuge in the choir
of a church, an asylum which all the assurances of the
Tartars that they should suffer no injury, could not pre¬
vail on them to abandon. It was therefore set on fire
by the barbarians, who feasted their ears with the
shrieks and groans of the women, as the flames sur*
rounded them.
Yury, incensed almost to desperation, at the fate of
his capital, and the horrible death of his wife and chi1-
dren, was determined to take signal vengeance on the
assailants. He assembled all the forces which he could
draw together, and though his army was greatly infe¬
rior in numbers to the Tartars, fe marched against the
enemy, and attacked them with the most determined-
valour. The struggle was short, but bloody ; the Tar¬
tars were victorious, and the body of Yury was found
among the slain.
This appears to have been the only vigorous stand
made by the Russian princes. The Tartars pushed for¬
ward with rapidity, and successively overpowered the
principalities of Novgorod and Kief. In the latter city
they found immense booty ; but this circumstance did
not prevent them from repeating here the same bloody
scenes which they had acted in the ether capitals. The
governor was preserved from the cruelties that had been
inflicted on the inhabitants, by the courage he had dis¬
played in defence of the city; and his noble demeanour,
when he fell into the hands of the conqueror, acquired
the esteem and affection of that chief, and enabled him
to obtain a temporary repose to his country. Cj
The Tartars had now established themselves in the Succestl
Russian territories, and their khan or chief, though he of Russ
did not himself assume the nominal sovereignty, reigned Pnn“s
as paramount lord, and placed on the throne any of the
native princes whom he found most obsequious to his
will, or who had ingratiated themselves by the magni¬
ficence of their present®. The throne was successively
occupied by Yaroslaf II. Alexander Yaroslavitch, Ya-
roslaf Yaroslavitch, Vtisilii Yaroslaviteh, Dimitri Alex-
androvitch, Andrei, Daniil, both brothers of Dimitri,
Mikaila Yaroslavitch, Yury Danilovitch, Alexander
Mikailovitch, Ivan Danilovitch, Simeon Ivanovitch,
and Ivan Ivanovitch. ^
Among the princes whom we have enumerated, we St Alc>>
must particularly notice Alexander the son of Yaroslaf derNeft*
II. This prince was installed grand prince of Russia
by the Tartar khan in 1252, and continued to reign
till 1204. He is remarkable chiefly for a decisive vic¬
tory gained by him over the Danes on the banks of the
Neva;—a victory which procured him the honourable
surname of Neffs ky f the conqueror J. This victory is
said to have taken place in 1239, while Alexander was
governor of Novgorod, under his father Yaroslaf, who
then reigned at Vladimir. After his accession to the
throne on the death of his father, he engaged in a suc¬
cessful war with Sweden. This prince is held in great
veneratmn by the Russians, and-aeveral miracles are at¬
tributed to him. In particular it is said, that when the
prayer of absolution was offered to his corpse previous
to interment (a practice long customary in Russia), the
hand
R II S
is. hand of the dead body opened to receive it. His re-
-w' putation for sanctity occasioned himto be ranked among
the tutelary saints of the Greek church, where he stilt
holds a distinguished place, by the tile of St Alexander
Neffsky.
During these several reigns, which all historians have
rtus- passed over for want of records concerning them, the
he miseries of a foreign yoke were aggravated by all the
calamities of intestine discord and war; whilst the
knights of Livonia, or brothers of the short-sword, as
they are sometimes called, a kind of military order of
religious, on one side, and the Poles on the other, catch¬
ing at the opportunity,attacked Russia,and took several
of its towns,and even some considerable countries. The
Tartars and Russians, whose interests were in this case
the same, often united to oppose their common enemy ;
but were generally worsted. The Livonians took Ples-
kow, and the Poles made themselves masters of Black
Russia, the Ukraine, Podolia, an 1 the city of Kief. Ca-
simir the Great, one of their kings,carried his conquests
still farther. He asserted his pretensions to a part of
Russia, in right of his relation to Boleslaus duke of Ka-
litz, who diedwithout issue,and forcibly possessed him¬
self of the duchies of Perzemyslia, Kalitz, and Luckow,
and of the districts of Sanock, Lubakzow, and Tre-
bowla ; all which countries he made a province of Po¬
land.
The newly-conquered Russians were ill-disposed to
endure the government of the Poles, whose laws and
customs were more contrary to their own than those of
the Tartars had been. They joined the latter to rid
themselves of the yoke, and assembled an army numer¬
ous enough to overwhelm all Poland, but destitute of
valour and discipline. Casimir, undaunted by this de¬
luge of barbarians, presented himself at the head of a
few troops on the borders of the Vistula, and obliged
his enemies to retire.
62. About the year 1362 Dimitri Ivanovitch received
^ the sovereignty from the Tartar chief, and established
the seat of his government at Mosco. This prince pos¬
sessed considerableambition,and contrived to inspire the
tch other Russian princes with so much respect for his per¬
son and government, that they consented to hold their
principalities as fiefs under Dimitri. This increased
the consequence of the Russian prince, excited the jea¬
lousy of Mammai the Tartar khan, who determined to
take measures for maintaining his superiority. He be¬
gan by demanding an increase of tribute, but when Di¬
mitri seemed to demur at consenting to this new en¬
croachment, the khan not only insisted on his demand,
but required the grand prince to appear before him in
person. This requisition Dimitri thought proper to re¬
fuse, and prepared to support his refusal by force of
arms. The terror with which the Tartars had inspired
the inhabitants of Russia had nowconsiderably subsided,
while the hatred which the Russians bore these haughty
masters, was kept alive by the barbarity of their man¬
ners, and the difference of their religion. The Chri¬
stian ministers, justly dreading that the Tartars, in their
furious progress, might extirpate Christianity, contribut¬
ed all in their power to confirm the spirit of' revolt among
the people; and they promised the crown of martyr¬
dom to such as should fall in battle against the infidels.
Thus, the contest into which the grand prince deter¬
mined to enter in support of his authority, became in
S I A. $65
some measure a holy war, undertaken in defence of the Russia,
national religion. This combination of favourable eir-
cumstances operated so strongly in favour of Dimitri,
and the princes that had confederated with him, that
they soon collected an army of 200,000 men. With
this force the grand prince left Mo-co, and marched to¬
wards the Don, on the southern bank of which the Tar¬
tars were encamped. Arrived at this river, he left it
to the choice of his troops, either to cross the river, and
encounter the enemy on the other side, or to await the
attack where they were. The general voice declared
for p issing over to the assault. The grand prince ac¬
cordingly transported his battalions across the river,
that he might cut off all hope of escaping by retreat.
The fight now commenced, and though the numbers of
the foe far exceeded their own, the Russians defended
themselves valiantly against the furious onset of the Tar¬
tars ; but as these barbarians were continually relieved
by fresh reinforcements, they appeared to be gaining
ground. Indeed, nothing but the impossibility of re¬
treating across the river, and the firm persuasion that
death would immediately transport them to the man¬
sions of eternal bliss, restrained the Russians from a ge¬
neral flight. At the moment when the day seemed en¬
tirely lost, a detachment of the grand prince’s army
which he had stationed in reserve, and had remained
out of the view of the enemy, came up with unabated
force, fell on the rear of the Tartars, threw them into
such terror and confusion, that they fled with Mammai
at their head, and left the Russians masters of the field.
This contest must have been extremely bloody, as we
are told that eight days were employed by the remains
of the Russian army, in burying the bodies of their
slaughtered companions, while those of the Tartars were
left uninterred upon the ground.
This glorious victory, which took place in 1380, was
attended with numerous advantages to the Russian cause.
In particular, it taught the native princes that the Tar¬
tars were not unconquerable ; that nothing was want¬
ing to relieve them from the galling yoke under which
they had long groaned, but mutual union, courage, and
prudence. The Tartars appear to have been so much
humbled by this defeat, that for a time they left the
Russians to enjoy in peace their recovered liberty. This
forbearance, however, was not of long duration. Be¬
fore the death of Dimitri they returned with increased
numbers, laid siege to Mosco, which, after an obstinate
defence, was at length induced to surrender, and Russia
once more submitted to her old masters.
Dimitri died in 1389, and was succeeded by his son ^
Vasilii Dimitrievitch. In the reign of this prince a new jje-
incursion of the Tartars took place, under the great VasiliU
Timur or Tamarlane, who after having subdued all the
neighbouring Tartar hordes, extended his conquests to
the Russian territories, carried Mosco by assault, and
carried off immense plunder.
The grand principality of Vladimir, or as it may now 66
be called, of Mosco, had, at the end of the 14)th cen-
tury, attained its greatest height, while that of Kief had 0f the Rus-
proportionally declined. This latter principality was, 6ian princi-
at the time of which we are now writing, under the do- palities at
minion of the Poles, having been seized on in 1320 by the entl ot'
Gedemin, duke of Lithuania. the 14th
7 centurv
The latter end of the 15th century forms a splendid
epoch in the liugsian history; At this time, viz. from
U6:4
/
166
II U S S I A. "
Ilussia.
GT
Accession
of Ivan Va¬
sil iivitch.
US
Incited by
his wife to
shake off
the Tartar
yoke.
C9
His suc¬
cesses a-
gaxnst tlie
Tartars.
1462 ti) 1505, reigned Ivan Va&iliivitch, or, as lie is
commonly called, John Basilovitz. This able prince,
by his invincible spirit and refined policy, became both
(he conqueror and deliverer of his country, and laid the
first foundation of its future grandeur. Observing with
indignation the narrow limits of his power at his acces¬
sion to the throne, after the death of his father Vasiliis
the Blind, be began immediately to resolve within him¬
self the means of enlarging his dominions. Marriage,
though he had in reality no regard or inclination for wo¬
men, seemed to him one of the best expedients he could
begin with ; and accordingly he demanded and obtained
Maria, sister of Michael duke of Twer, whom he soon
after deposed, under pretence of revenging the injuries
done to his father, and added this duchy to his own ter¬
ritories of Mosco. Maria, by whom he had a sen nam¬
ed Ivan, who died before him, did not live long • and
upon her death he married Sophia, daughter of Thomas
Paleologus, who had been driven from Constantinople,
and forced to seek shelter at Rome, where the Pope por¬
tioned this princess, in hopes of thus procuring great
advantage to the Romish religion : but his expectations
were frustrated, Sophia being obliged to conform to the
Greek church after her arrival in Russia.
What could induce Ivan to seek a consort at such a
distance is nowhere accounted for, unless it be, that he
hoped by this means t9 establish a pretension to the em¬
pire of the east, to which her father was the next heir;
but however that may be, the Russians certainly owed
to this alliance their deliverance from the Tartar yoke.
Shocked at the servile homage exacted by these proud
victors, her husband going to meet their ambassadors at
some distance from the city, and standing to hear what
they had to say, whilst they were at dinner; Sophia
told him that she was surprised to find thatshe had mar¬
ried a servant to the Tartars. Nettled at this reproach,
Ivan feigned himself ill when the next deputation from
the Tartars arrived, and by means of this stratagem,
avoided a repetition of the humiliating ceremonial.
Another circumstance equally displeasing to this prin¬
cess was, that the Tartars possessed by agreement with¬
in the walls of the palace at Mosco, houses in which
their ministers resided, a stipulation which they had
made, at once to shew their power, and watch the ac¬
tions of the grand prince. To rid her husband and her¬
self of these unpleasant neighbours, Sophia sent a for¬
mal embassy to the khan, to inform him, that as she
had been tavoured with a vision from above, command¬
ing her to build a temple in the place where then stood
the houses of the Tartar ministers, her mind could not
be at ease till she had fulfilled the divine command ;
she therefore desired his leave to pull them down, and
give his people others. The khan consented; the houses
within the Kremlin (D)vreredemolished, and nonew ones
being provided,the Tartar residents were obliged toleave
Mosco, an affront which their prince was not able to i*e-
venge, as he was then engaged in a war with the Poles.
Ivan taking advantage ot this circumstance, and hav¬
ing gradually increased his forces, now openly disclaim¬
ed all subjection to the Tartars, attacked their territo¬
ries, and made himself master of Kazan. Here he was Rusq
solemnly crowned with a diadem which is said to be the '—y
same that is still used in the coronation of the Russian
sovereigns. This took place about the year 14-70, and
led to a complete emancipation of Russia from the Tar¬
tar dominion. Ivan afterwards carried his arms against
the neighbouring states. The province of Permia, with
Asiatic Bulgaria, and great part of Lapland, soon sub¬
mitted to him, and the great Novgorod, a city then so
famous that the Russians were accustomed to intimate
their idea of its importance by the proverbial expres¬
sion. Who can resist God and the great Novgorod ? was
reduced by bis generals after a seven years siege, and
yielded immense treasure. This place was so wealthy,
that Alexander Witold, prince of Lithuania, to whom
the Novgorodians were then tributary, derived from it
a yearly contribution of 100,000 rubles. The booty
carried off by Ivan to Mosco, is said to have consisted
of 300 cart loads of gold, silver, and precious stones,
with a much greater quantity of furs, cloths, and other
merchandise. After he quitted the city, which had been
awed by his presence, the discontents excited at his
violent measures broke out into acts of mutiny, on
which he, in 14-85, carried off 50 of the principal fa¬
milies, and distributed them through several of the Rus¬
sian towns. He afterwards carried off some thousands
of the most considerable inhabitants, and replaced them
by more loyal subjects from other places. By these pro¬
ceedings the flourishing commerce of this city received
a considerable shock, and it suffered still more by the
imprisonment of all the German merchants, and the con¬
fiscation of their effects. Indeed from this period Nov¬
gorod never recovered its former splendour.
After his reduction of Novgorod, Ivan invaded the Hisiri
territories of Livonia and Esthonia, in consequence, as °^L1
we are told, of an affront offered to him by the inha- ^
bitants of Reval. Here, however, he met with a stout
resistance, and does not seem to have made much pro¬
gress. Towards the conclusion of his reign, the Kaza-
nian Tartars, who, though bumbled, had continued to
inhabit that district, made a hard struggle to shake off
the Russian yoke that had been imposed on them ; but
Ivan had established his authority too firmly for them to
accomplish their purpose during his life. He died in
1505, and v/as succeeded by his son Vasilii Ivanovitch,
commonly called Basilius III.
The Tartars of Kazan were still suffered to maintain a An. !J’
shew of independency, by electing their own khans; but j^jf
a Russian no'ole, under the denomination of voivode y^vn
was associated with the khan in the government, and
took care that the administration should be conducted in
such a manner as to secure the interests of his master.
About 14 years after the death of Ivan, however, the
Tartars resolved to overturn so humiliating an admini¬
stration. They murdered the Russian voivode, expel¬
led their nominal khan, and united themselves with
their brethren of tiie Crimea. With their assistance
they assembled amighty force, entered the Russian domi¬
nions, and carried their arms even to the gates of Mos¬
co. The grand pi ince Vasiiii found himself at that time
unable
(d) Ine Kremlin is a quarter of Mosco, where stands the palace of the tzars, first built of stone by Dimitri
Ivanovitch Dowski in 13j7. See Mosco.
RUSSIA.
flos. umble to resist tae barbarians^ and tberefore purchased
✓ ^ an exemption from general pillage by great presents,
and a promise of renewed allegiance. The Tartars re¬
tire:!, but carried ofFimmense booty, and nearly 300,000
prisoners, the greater part of whom they sent to Theo¬
dosia in the Crimea, and sold them to the Turks. This
humiliation of Vasilii did not, however, long continue,
and he was soon enabled to make bead against the Tar¬
tars, and to recover possession of the city Kazan, and of
Pseove, a city which had been built by the princess
Olga, and was the great rival of Novgorod in wealth
and commercial importance. Under this prince all the
principalities of Russia were once more united, and they
have remained ever since under the dominion of one so¬
vereign.
n. T5. It was under the son and succecsor of Vasili?, Ivan IV.
or, as he is styled by the Russian historians. IvanVasilii-
fau isi- vitchll.thatllussia completely emancipated herself from
hti .. jier Sui}jection to the Tartars, and acquired a vast acces¬
sion of territory, which extended her empire into the
north-east of Asia, and rendered her for the first time,
superior in extent to ;>ny state that had appeared since
the Roman empire. Vasilii died in 1533, having reign¬
ed 28 years, and lived 55. His son Ivan was only
three years old when he succeeded to the throne, and
the queen-mother was appointed regent during his mi¬
nority. During her administration the state became a
prey to anarchy and confusion. She seems to have had
no talents for government, and devoted herself entirely
to the pursuit of p easure, so that the ambitious nobles,
snd in particular the uncles of the young prince, had
the most favourable opportunity for aggrandizing them-
I selves at the expence ot the sovereign. The queen mo¬
ther died in 1538 ; and though the names and charac¬
ters of those who assumed the regency after her death
are not known, it appears that they must have conduct¬
ed the administration with considerable prudence and
circumspection, as, when Ivan attained his 1 7th year,
he was enabled to assume the reins of government with¬
out opposition; and from the important transactions in
which he immediately engaged, must have been posses¬
sed of considerable resources.
► 7 In taking into his own hands the government of the
D state, Ivan displayed so much prudence and manly for-
titude as soon raised him very high in the estimation of
his subjects. At the same time he shewed marks of a
tyrannical disposition, and irritability of temper, which
1 made him rather feared than admired by his friends,
while they rendered him an object of terror to his neigh¬
bours and his enemies. He saw himse f surrounded on
all sides by contending factions, am! to suppress these
was the first object of his care. In the choice of means
for effecting this, he does not seem to have been very
scrupulous, provided they tended to the accomplishment
of his aim ; and in punishing the offences of those who
opposed his \ impose, his violence of temper not unfre-
qieutly led him to confound the innocent with the
guilty. H e was, however, successful in his great de¬
sign, and having secure;, the domestic tranquillity of his
dominions, he had leisure to direct his attention to the
more remote, but not less predominant objects of his
ambition. He resolved to attempt liberating his coun¬
try for ever from the dominion o; the Tartars, and he
succeeded. In 1551, he marched an army in the depth
367
of winter into the district of Kszan, and laid siege to RliSJia-
the capita], regardless of the murmurs of his troops,
who loudly and openly expressed their dislike to tins
expedition, declaring that no good commander would
think of conducting his forces to sieges and battles dur¬
ing the inclemencies of winter, or attempt at such a
season to attack the enemy in their quarters. Exaspe¬
rated at these murmurs, he determined to punish se¬
verely the principal officers who had contributed to fo¬
ment the discontents of the soldiers, and by this well-
timed severity he effectually repressed all opposition to
liis will. 74
before entering seriously on the siege of Kazan, he His 6‘eRe
built several forts on the frontiers of the Tartar terri- * *r'
tories, by which he hoped to awe these barbarians, and P
prevent them from disturbing the peace of his domi¬
nions. He then invested Kazan, and in the year 1552,
made himself master of it by the new, and, to the Tar¬
tars, unheard-of method of springing a mine below the
avails. We are told by some historians, that the city
had made an obstinate defence, and that, during the
siege, which lasted above seven years, another alarming
mutiny broke out in the besieging army; that Ivan was
in great danger of his life, and was obliged for a time
to abandon the enterprise, and retire to Mosco, where
he made an example of the chief mutineers, and again
returned to the siege of Kagan. How far this statement
is to be relied on, it is difficult now to determine; but
perhaps this mutiny is confounded with that which we
have already noticed, as having taken place at the com¬
mencement of the enterprise.
As Kazan was taken by storm, the inhabitants were
treated with much rigour; and the slaughter was so
dreadful, that even the flinty heart of Ivan is said to
have relented at the heaps of dead bodies which struck
his sight on entering the city. The inhabitants that
escaped slaughter, and the lemains of the Tartars, were
offered mercy on condition that they should embrace the
Christian faith. By this important conquest the domi¬
nion of the Tartars, which had oppressed the Russians
for more than three centuries, was completely and per¬
manently overthrown. . 75
About two years after he had abolished the power of Hls e^ten*
< rn . 1 , ii* 1 1 Slcn of toe
tile tartars, he extended his conquests eastward to the Russian ter.
shores of the Caspian, and took possession of the terri- ritories.
tory that lay on the right bank of the Volga, round the
city of Astracan, which was also inhabited by the Tar¬
tar hordes. 7G
Ivan, as well as his grandfather, had found it neces- 1118 severe
sary to chastise the inhabitants of Novgorod : but in tF,ef!nient
the year 157f *, this city being suspected of forming a
p:ot for delivering itself and the surrounding territory
into the hands of the king of Poland, felt still more
sevei ely the effects of his vengeance. Ail who had been
in any deg ee implicaU d in the conspiracy, to the num¬
ber of 25.000, suffered by the hands of the executioner.
1 he city of Ps.ove was threatened with a similar pro¬
scrip ion ; but Ivan, on their voluntary submission, con-
te ted himself with the execution of a few monks, and
the confiscation of the property of the most opulent in¬
habitants. It is not surp ising that acts like these should
have given to this prince the names of leirilrte and ty¬
rant, by which historians have occasionally di stinguished
him; though it is not a little extraordinary, that lie
should
363
11
U S S I A.
IT
Cultivates
an inter-
fcouring
States.
"Russia, slioultl have retained so much interest in the affectionsof
his subjects, that when, to try their attachment, he, in
i 575, abdicated the government, and retained only the
title of Prince of Mosco, the majority of the nation
loudly expressed their wish for him to resume the admi¬
nistration of affairs. We can account for this, only by
considering the measures which he had adopted for the
improvement and civilization of his people. These
were of such a nature as in a great measure to obliterate
the remembrance of his cruelty and oppression. He
promulgated a new code of laws, composed partly of
such ancient statutes as still were in force, and were ca¬
pable of improvement, and partly of new regulations,
which he either contrived himself, or adopted from the
neighbouring states. He found it necessary, however,
to render many of these laws extremely severe, though
their execution was most frequently examplified in the
persons of his nobles, whose perverseness and obstinacy
seemed unconquerable by more lenient measures.
Ivan cultivated an intercourse with several of the Eu¬
ropean states, especially with Germany, for which coun-
eourse with try he seems to have had a very particular esteem,
the neigh- Early in his reign, viz. in 1 547, he sent a splendid em¬
bassy to the emperor Charles V. requesting him to per¬
mit a number of German artists, mechanics, and literary
men, to establish themselves in Russia. Charles readily
complied with his request, and several hundred volun¬
teers were collected and assembled at Lubeck, whence
they were to proceed through Livonia to Mosco. The
Lubeckers, however, jealous that the improvement of
the Russians in artsandmanufacturesmight renderthem
independent of their neighbours, and diminish the com¬
mercial intercourse thathad longsubsisted between their
city and the principal towns of Russia, arrested theGer-
mans in their route, and in concert with the merchants
of Reval and Riga, sent a petition toCharles, requesting
him to recal the permission he had granted. In conse¬
quence of the'e measures, many of the German artists
returned home, but several of them escaped the vigi¬
lance of the Lubeckers, and reached Mosco by a circui¬
tous route. Ivan endeavoured to revenge himself on the
Livonians by inv ding their country. This was strenu¬
ously defended by the Teutonic knights ; and these
champions, finding at last that they were unable to
maintain their ground, rather than submit to the Rus¬
sian monarch, put their country under the protection of
Poland.
The Swedes also came in for a share of the Livonian
territories; and this circumstance gave rise to a war be¬
tween them and the Russians. Ivan invaded Finland;
but that country was bravely defended by William of
Furstenberg, grand master of the Livonian knights, with
the assistance of the troops of Gustavus Vaza; audit
does not appear that Ivan gained much in this expedi¬
tion, though we are told that the Livonian grand master
ended his life in a Russian prison.
In 1553, an event happened which first led to an in¬
tercourse between Russia and England. Some English¬
men who were at that time on a voyage of discovery,
landed on the shores.of the White sea, where soon after
tween Eng- was built the port of Archangel. They were hospita-
1 and ami jjjy received by the-natives-; and intimation of the cir-
/ ■u“ia* cumsance being conveyed to Ivan, he sent for the stran-
73
War be¬
tween the
Russians
and Swedes,
An. 1.553,
79
First inter¬
course be-
ger% and was so much pleased with their; bilities and
deportment, that he resolved to give every encourage- Russi,.
ment to the English commerce, and thus open a new ■<—y*,
channel of intercourse with a highly polished nation, by
which his subjects might obtain fresh incitements to ac¬
tivity and industry. We are told, that his affection for
the English proceeded so far, as to induce him to form
the design of marrying an English lady. He expressed
the highest esteem for Queen Elizabeth, and requested
by his ambassador, that if the ingratitude of his subjects
should ever compel him to quit Russia, (a circumstance
by no means improbable), she would grant him an
asylum in her dominions. It was in consequence of this
accidental communication between the Russians and the
English^ that England first engaged in a trade to Rus¬
sia, and promoted this new commerce by the esta¬
blishment of a company of Russia merchants in Lon¬
don. go
About twenty years after Astracan had beat annex- Ivan an
ed to the Russian empire, anew acquisition of territory
accrued to it from the conquests of a private adven- thcguJ
turer, in the unknown regions of Siberia. The steps empire,
that led to the acquisition of this immense tract of the
Asiatic continent, are thus related by Mr Tooke.
“ The grand prince, Ivan III. had already sent out
a body of men who penetrated across the Ingrian moun¬
tains, and traversed all the districts as far as the river
Oby. But, amidst the urgent affairs of government,
the discoveries they made insensibly fell into oblivion.
Some years afterwards a merchant, named Stroganof,
who was proprietor of some salt-works on the confines
of Siberia, was curious to gain a farther knowledge of
that country, which wras likewise inhabited by Tartars,
whose khan resided in the capital Sibir. Perceiving,
among the persons who came to him on affairs of trade,
men who belonged to no nation with w hich he was ac¬
quainted, he put several inquiries to them concerning
the place whence they came, and once sent a few of his
people with them back to their country. These people
brought with them, at their return from the regions
they had now explored, and which proved to be this very
Siberia, a great quantity of invaluable furs, and thus
opened to their master a new road to w ealth. LIow-
ever, not so covetous as to wish to keep this treasure to
himself, he sent information of it to the court, and the
attention of government was once more directed to this
country. But the conquest of it, and its conjunction
with Russia, was reserved for an adventurer named Ti-
moseyef Yermak. This Yermak, at the headt)f a gang
of Don Zozaks, had made it his practice to rob and
plunder the caravans and passengers that occasionally
frequented the roads, as wrell as the inhabitants, where-
ever he came, and was so fortunate as to escape the
search of the Russian troops that had been sent out
against him and his band, which consisted of not fewer
than 6000 men. On their flight, he and his people ac-
c clen'ally came to the dwelling of Stro^anof, where,
hearing much talk about Siberia, and being persons
who had nothing to lose, and thetefore might put all to
the hazard, they soon formed a pi n to penetrate farther
into that country, and there seek at once their safety
and their fortune. After numerous struggles and con¬
flicts with the natives, which greatly reduced their num¬
bers, they at length conquered the capital, and shortly
after the whole country. Yermak nowr presented tire
fruit
II U S S I A.
m)
jj ;a, fruit of his toilsome,'ll! d perilous victories to his tzar, (e)
^ Ivan, in hopes of obtaining thereby, a pardon of his
former depredations, which was granted him accord¬
ingly, by the building of several towns, and construct¬
ing a number oi'forts, the possession of this country was
soon permanently secured. The less and the greater
Kabardey were also added to Russia in the reign of
Ivan. This tzar, however, not only enlarged the cir¬
cumference of his empire, partly by force of arms and
partly by accident, but he resolved to reform his people,
to render them more polished, more skilful, and indus¬
trious ; but this he found to be the most arduous en¬
terprise he could possibly have undertaken. The insu¬
perable impediments which threw themselves in the
way of the execution of this grand work, were the prin¬
cipal incitements to those frequent acts of cruelty and
despotism which have covered his memory with so
deep a stain.”
Towards the close of Ivan’s reign, a prodigious army
• ,cer" of Turks and Tartars entered Russia, with a design to
the ir- subdue the whole country. But Zerebrinoff, the tzar’s
tar general, having attacked them in a defile, put them to
flight with considerable slaughter. They then retired to¬
wards the mouth of the Volga, where they expected a
considerable reinforcement; but being closely pursued
by the Russians and Tartars in alliance with them, they
were again defeated and forced to fly towards Azof on
the Black sea. But when they came there, they found
the city almost entirely ruined by the blowing up of a
powder magazine. The Russians then attacked tbeir
ships there, took some and sunk the rest; by which
means almost the whole army perished with hunger or
^ by the sword of the enemy.
Di notion From this time the empire of Russia became so formi-
«f isco dable, that none of the neighbouring nations could hope
ty 2 to make a total conquest of it. The Poles and Swedes
** rs’ indeed continued to be very formidable enemies; and,
by the instigation of the former, the Crim Tartars, in
3 571, again invaded the country with an army of
70,000 men. The Russians, who might have prevented
their passing the Volga, retired before them till they
came within 18 miles of the city of Mosco, where they
were totally defeated. The tzar no sooner heard this
news, than he retired with his most valuable effects to
a well-fortified cloyster ; upon which the Tartars en¬
tered the city, plundered it, and set fire to several
churches. A violent storm which happened at the
same time soon spread the flames all over the city ;
which was entirely reduced to ashes in six hours.though
its circumference was upwards of 40 miles. The fire
likewise communicated itself to a powder magazine at
some distance from the city ; by which accident up¬
wards of 50 rods of the city wall, with all the buildings
upon it, w^ere destroyed ; and, according to the best hi¬
storians, upwards of 120,000 citizens were burnt orbu-
ried in the ruins, besides w omen, children, andforeign-
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
erg. The castle however, which Was strongly fortified, Ttussia.
could not be taken; and the Tartars, hearing that a
formidable army was coming against them under the
command of Magnus duke of Holstein, whom Ivan had
made king of Livonia, thought proper to retire. The
war, nevertheless, continued with the Poles and Swedes;
and the tzar being defeated by the latter after some
trifling success, was reduced to the necessity of suing
for peace ; but the negociations being broken off, the
war wras renewed with the greatest vigour. The Livo¬
nians, Poles, and Swedes, having united in a league
against the Russians, gained great advatages over them ;
and in 1579, Stephen Battori, w howas then raised to the
throne of Poland, levied an army expressly with a design
of invading Russia, and of regaining all that Poland had
formerly claimed, which indeed was little less than the
whole empire. As the Poles understood the art of war
much betterthan the Russians, Ivan found his undiscip¬
lined multitudes unable to cope with the regular forces
of his enemies; and their conquests were so rapid, that
he was soon obliged to sue for peace, which, however,
was not granted; and it is possible that the number of
enemies which now attacked Russia might have over¬
come the empire entirely, had not the allies grown jea¬
lous of each other The consequence of this was, that
in 1582 a peace was concluded with the Poles, in which
the Swedes were not comprehended. However, the
Swedes finding themselves unable to effect any thing of
moment after the desertion of their allies, were obliged
to conclude a truce; shortly after which the tzar having
been worsted in an engagement with the Tartars, died
in the year 1584.
The eldest son of the late tzar, Feodor (or as lie is An. 1584.
commonly called, Theodore) Ivanovitch, was by no
means fitted for the government of an empire so exten- |lei|n
sive, and a people so rude and turbulent as had devolved ivanovitch
to him by the death of his father. Ivan had seen the
incapacity of his son, and had endeavoured to obviate
its effects, by appointing three of his principal nobles as
administ- ators of the empire ; while to a fourth he com¬
mitted the charge of his younger son Dimitri. This
expedient, however, failed of success; and partly from
the mutual jealousy of the administrators, partly from
the envy which their exaltation had excited in the other
nobles, the affairs of the empire soon fell into confusion.
The weak Feodor, had married a sister of Boris Gudo-
nof, a manof considerableambition, immense riches, and
tolerable abilities. This man had contrived to make
himself agreeable to Feodor, by becoming subservient to
his capricious desires and childish amusements; and the
wealth he had acquired throughhis int erest with the so¬
vereign, enabled him to carry on his ambitious des:grs.
He had long directed his wishes towards the imperial
dignity, and he began to prepare the way for its attain¬
ment by removing Dimitri the brother of Feodor. This
young prince suddenly disappeared ; and there is every
t 3 A reason
(f.) Previous to the reign of Vasilii, the predecessor of the monarch whose transactions we are now relating, the
Russian sovereigns held the title of Yelikii Kn.iaz, which has been translated great duke, though it more proper’y
denotes grand prince ; and by this latter appellation we have accordingly distinguished the precedingmonarchs.
Vasilii, near the conclusion of his reign, adopted the title of tzar, or emperor ; but this title was not fully esta¬
blished till the successes and increasing power of his son Ivan enabled the latter to confirm it both at home
and abroad : and since his time it has been universally acknowledged.
370
RUSSIA.
1*648011 to believe that he was assassinated by the order of
Boris. Feodor did not long survive his brother, but
died in ] 598, not without suspicion of his having been
poisoned by his brother-in-law. We are told that the
tzaritza, Irene, was so much convinced of this, that
she never after held any communication with her bro¬
ther, but retired to a convent, and assumed the name of
Alexandria.
With Feodor ended the last branch of the family of
Ruric, a dynasty which had enjoyed the supreme power
muion of " ^uss^a ever since the establishment of the principality
the dynasty by the Varagian chief, viz. during a period of above
of Ituric. 700 years. On the death of Feodor, as there was no
hereditary successor to the vacant throne, the nobles as¬
sembled to elect a new tzar ; and the artful Boris hav¬
ing, through the interest of the patriarch, a man ele¬
vated by his means, and devoted to his views, procured
a majority in his favour, he was declared the object of
their choice. Boris pretended unwillingness to accept
the crown, declaring that he had resolved to live and
die in a monastery; but when the patriarch, at the
head of the principal nobles, and attended by a great
concourse of people, bearing before them the cross, and
the effigies of several saints, repaired to the convent,
where the artful usurper had taken up his residence,
he was at length prevailed on to accompany them to
the palace of the tzars, and suffer himself to be crown¬
ed.
Boris affords another example, in addition to the nu¬
merous instances recorded in history, of a sovereign who
became beneficial to ins subjects, though he had pro¬
cured the sovereignty by unjustifiable means. If we
give implicit credit to the historians of those times,
Boris was a murderer and a usurper, though he had the
voice of the people in his favour; but by whatever
means he attained the imperial power, he seems to have
employed it in advancing the interests of the nation,
and in improving the circumstances of his people. He
was extremely active in his endeavours to extend the
commerce, and improve the arts and manufactures of
the Russian empire; and for this purpose he invited
many foreigners into his dominions. While he exerted
himself in securing the tranquillity of the country, and
defending its frontiers by forts and ramparts, against the
incursions of his neighbours, he made himself respected
abroad, received ambassadors from almost all the powers
of Europe; and after several attempts to enlarge his
territories at the expence of Sweden, he concluded
with that kingdom an honourable and advantageous
alliance.
An. ICul. Soon after the commencement of his reign, the city
85 of Mosco was desolated by one of the most dreadful fa-
fa-nh^at n“nes recor^ecl in history. Thousands of people lay
Mosco. dead in the streets and roads ; and in many houses the
fattest of their inmates was killed, to serve food for
the rest. Parents are said to have eaten their children,
and children their parents; and we are told by one of
the writers of that time (Petrius), that he saw a woman
bite several pieces out of her child’s arm as she was car¬
rying it along. Another relates, that four women ha¬
ving desired a peasant to come to one of their houses, on
pretence of paying him for some wood, killed and de¬
voured both him and his horse. This dreadful calamity
lasted three years; and notwithstanding all the exertions
ox Boris to provide for the necessities of the inhabitants
Itusiia
- Sf
Accession
of Boris,
of Mosco, we are assured that not fewer than 50C,000 Russia,
perished by the famine.
During these distresses of the capital, the power of 86
Boris was threatened with annihilation by an adventurer Invas>on i
who suddenly started up, and pretended to be the young ^
prince Dimitri, whom all believed to have been assas- tri.
sinated, or, as Boris had given out, to have died of a
malignant fever. This adventurer was a monk named
Otrepief, who learning that he greatly resembled the
late Dimitri, conceived the project of passing for that
prince, and endeavouring, in that character, to ascend
the Russian throne. He retired from Russia into Po¬
land, where he had the dexterity to ingratiate himself
with some of the principal nobles, and persuade them
that he was really prince Dimitri, the lawful heir to
the crown of Russia. The better to insure to himself
the support of the Poles, he learned their language,
and professed a great regard for the Catholic religion.
By this last artifice he both gained the attachment of
the Catholic Poles, and acquired the friendship of the
Roman pontiff, whose blessing and patronage in his
great undertaking he farther secured, by promising that,
as soon as he should have established himself on the
throne, he would make every exertion to bring the Rus¬
sians within the pale of the Catholic church. To the
external graces of a fine person, the pretended Dimitri
added the charms of irresistible eloquence; and by these
accomplishments he won the affections of many of the
most powerful among the Polish nobility. In particular
the voivode of Sendomir was so much captivated by his
address, that he not only espoused his cause, but pro¬
mised to give him his daughter in marriage, as soon as
he should be placed on the throne of his fathers. This
respectable man exerted himself so warmly in behalf of
his intended son-in-law, that he brought over even the
king of Poland to his party. The Kozaks of the Don,
who were oppressed by Boris, hoped to gain at least a
temporary advantage by the disturbance excited in fa¬
vour of the adventurer, and eagerly embraced the op¬
portunity of declaring in his favour. The news of
Prince Dimitri being still alive, soon penetrated into
Russia; and though Boris did all in his power to de¬
stroy the illusion, by prohibiting all intercourse between
his subjects and the Poles, and by appealing to the evi¬
dence of the murdered prince’s mother in proof of his
death, the cause of the pretender continued to gain
ground. Many circumstances concurred to interest the
Russian people in favour of Otrepief. He had prepared
a manifesto, which he caused to be dispersed through
the empire, and in which he affirmed himself to be the
son of Ivan, and asserted his right to the throne then
usurped by Boris. The courtiers of the usurper, who
had long been jealous of his elevation, pretended to be¬
lieve these assertions ; while those who were persuaded
that the young prince had been murdered by order of
the present tzar, regarded this event as a judgment
from heaven. The greater part of the nation appear to
have been persuaded, that the pretender was the rejl
Dimitri; and as they believed that he had been mira¬
culously preserved, they piously resolved to concur with
the hand of Providence in assisting him to recover his
just rights. Thus, before he set foot in Russia, a nu¬
merous party was formed in his behalf, tie soo t made
his appearance on the frontiers with a regiment of Po¬
lish troops, and a body of Kozaks. Boris sent an army
t©
jssia.
I SUCCC3*
ft
ir,05.
88
ascends
Russian
me.
II u s
to oppo£e him ; but though the number of these troops
greatly exceeded the small force of Dimitri, these latter
were so animated by the eloquence of their leader, and
the intrepidity and personal bravery which he displayed
in the field of battle, that, after a bloody conflict, the
army of Boris was defeated, and the pretended Dimitri
remained master of the field.
This victory, over a superior army, served still further
to strengthen the belief, that Dimitri was favoured by
heaven, and consequently could not be an impostor.
To confirm the good opinion which he had evidently
acquired, the victor treated his prisoners with gi-eat
kindness ; caused the dead to be decently interred, and
gave strict injunctions to his troops to behave with hu¬
manity in the towns through which he passed. This
gentle behaviour, when contrasted with the horrible ex¬
cesses committed by the soldiers of Boris, w'herever the
people appeared to shew any inclination towards the
cause of the invader, gained Dimitri more adherents
than even the persuasion that he was the lawful sove¬
reign of the country. Unluckily for Boris, the super¬
stition of the Russians was about this time directed
against him, by the appearance of a comet, and by
more than usual coruscations of the aurora borealis, phe¬
nomena which wrere immediately regarded as manifest
demonstrations that the Almighty was pouring out his
phials of wrath on the devoted country. It was almost
universally believed, that the awful effects of these
alarming appearances could be averted only by support¬
ing the cau-e of Dimitri, who had hitherto been so sig¬
nally protected, and brought to light by the hand of
heaven. Boris, unable to resist the torrent of public
•opinion in favour of his rival, is said to have taken poi¬
son, and thus hastened that fate which he foresaw
awaited him, if lie should fall into the hands of his
enemies.
The death of Boris took place in the year 1 605 ; and
though the principal nobility at IVloseo placed his son
Feodor on the throne, the party of Dimitri was now so
strong, that Feodor was dethroned and sent to prison
with his mother and sister, within six weeks after his
accession.
The successful monk had now attained the summit of
his ambitious hopes, and made his entry into Mosco with
the utmost magnificence, attended by his Russian adhe¬
rents, and his Polish friends. Not deeming himself se¬
cure, however, while the son of Boris remained alive, he
is said to have caused him to be strangled, together with
one of his sisters. The new tzar, though he evidently
possessed great abilities, seems to have been deficient in
point of prudence. Instead of conciliating the favour of
his subjects, by attention to their interests, and by con¬
ferring on the chief men among them the titles and ho¬
nours that were at his disposal, he openly displayed his
predilection for the Poles, on whom he conferred high
posts and dignities, and even connived at the extrava¬
gance and enormities which they committed. This im¬
politic conduct, together with his partiality for the Ca¬
tholic religion; his marked indifferencetowards the pub¬
lic worship of the national church, and his want of re¬
verence for the Greek clergy; his marrying a Polish
lady ; his affectation of Polish manners; his inordinate
voluptuousness, and the contempt with which he treated
'he principal nobility ; so irritated and exasperated the
S I A. 371
Russians, that discontents and insurrections arose inevery R ssia.
quarter of the empire ; and the joy with which he had v'—'
been at first received, was converted into indifference,
contempt, and detestation. The Russians soon disco¬
vered, from a curious circumstance, that their new so¬
vereign could not be sprung from the blood of their an*
cient tzars. These had been always lifted on their
horses, and rode along with a slow and solemn pace,
whereas Dimitri bestrod a furious stallion, which he
mounted without the help of his attendants. In addi¬
tion to these sources of discontent, it was rumoured that
a timber fort which Dimitri had caused to be construc¬
ted before Mosco, was intended to serve as an engine of
destruction to the inhabitants, and that at a martial
spectacle which the tzar was preparing for the entertain¬
ment of his bride, the Poles, and other foreigners that
composed his body guard, were, from this building, to
cast firebrands into the city, and then slaughter the in-
babitantj. This rumour increased tin ir hatred to fury,
and they resolved to wn eak their vengeance on the de¬
voted tzar. The populace were still farther incensed
by the clergj^, who declaimed against Dimitri as a he¬
retic, and by Schuiskoy, a nobleman who had been
condemned to death by the tzar, but had afterwards
been pardoned. This nobleman put himself at the head
of the enraged mob, and led them to attack the tzariail
palace. This they entered by assault, put to the sword
all the Poles whom they found ■within its walls, and af¬
terwards extended their massacre to such as were discov¬
ered in other parts of the city, Dimitri himself, in at¬
tempting to escape, was overtaken by his pursuers, and
thrust through with a spear, and his dead body being
brought bade into the city, lay for three days before
the palace, exposed to every insult and outrage that ina- c
lice could invent, or rage inflict. His father-in-law and
his wife escaped with their lives, but were detained as
prisoners, and the tz iritza was confined at Yaroslavl. ^
Schuiskoy, who had pretended to be actuated by no Unsettled
other motives than the purest patriotism, now aspired to state of
the vacant throne, and had sufficient interest to carry ^vssia.
his e’ecticn. His reign was short and uninteresting,
and indeed from this time till the accession of the house
of Romanof in id Id, the affairs of Russia have little to
gratify the curiosity of our readers. Schuiskoy's short
reign was disturbed by the pretensions of two fictitious
Dimitris, who successively started up,anddeclared them¬
selves to be either the late tzar, or the prince wrhom he
had personated; and his neighbours the Swedes and
Poles, taking advantage of the internal dissensions in
the empire, made many successful incursions into Russia,
set fire to Mosco, and massacred above 100,000 of the
people. The Russians, dissatisfied with the reigning
prince, treated with several of the neighbouring poten¬
tates for the disposal of the imperial crown. They offer¬
ed it to Vladislaf, or Uladislaus, son of Sigismund, king
of Poland, on condition that he should adopt the Greek
persuasion ; but as he rejected this preliminary, they
turned their eyes, first on a son of Charles IX. of Swe¬
den, and lastly, on a young native Russian, Mikhail
Feodorovitch, of the house of Romanof, a family di¬
stantly related to their ancient tzars, and of which the
head was then metropolitan of Rostof, and was held
in great estimation. Thus, after a long series of confu¬
sion and disaster, there ascended the Russian throne a
3 A 2 new-
so
State of the
Itussian
empire at
the begin¬
ning of the
17th cen¬
tury.
It u s
new family, whose descendants have raised the empire
to a state of grandeur and importance unequalled in any
former period.
We have seen the calamities brought upon the empire
by the paititions of its early monarch^, and the wars to
which these partitions gave birth; by the invasions and
tyranny of the Tartars ; and lastly, by the disturbances
that prevailed from the machirations of the false Dimi¬
tris. We have observed the depression which the em¬
pire suffered under these calamities. We are now to
witness its sudden elevation among the powers of Eu¬
rope, and to accompany it in its hasty strides towards
that importance which it has lately assumed. But be¬
fore we enter on the transactions that have enriched the
pages of the Russian annals since the accession of the
house of Romanof, it may not be improper or uninter¬
esting, to take a general view of the state of the empire
at the beginning of the 17th century.
At this period the government of Russia may be con¬
sidered as a pure aristocracy, as all the supreme power
rested in the hands of the nobles and the superior clergy.
In particular the boyars, or chief officers of the army,
who were aho the privy counsellors of the prince, pos¬
sessed a very considerable share of authority. The elec¬
tion of the late prances Boris, Dimitri, and Schuiskoy,
had been conducted principally by them, in concert
with the inhabitants of Mosco, where was then held the
seat of government. The common people, especially
those of the inferior' towns, though nominally free, had
no share in the government, or in the election of tire
chief ruler. The boors, or those peasants who dwelt
entire noblemen’s estates,were almost completely slaves,
and transferable with the land on which they dwelt. An
attempt to do away this barbarous vassalage had been
made, both by Boris and Schuiskoy, but from the op¬
position of the nobles it was abandoned.
The laws in force at the time of which we are now
speaking, consisted partly of the municipal laws drawtr
up for the state of Novgorod by Yaroslaf, and partly of
an amended code, called sudebnik, promulgated by
Ivan Vasiliivitch II. By this sudebnik the administra¬
tion of the laws was made uniform throughout the em¬
pire, and particular magistrates were appointed in the
several towns and districts, all subject to the tzar as
their chief. The sudebnik consisted of 9? articles, all
containing civil laws, as the penal statutes are only
briefly mentioned in some articles, so as to appear ei¬
ther connected with the civil, or as serving to illu¬
strate them. The criminal laws were contained in a
separate code, called gubnaia gramola, which is now
lost, but is referred to in the civil code. In neither of
these codes is there any mention of ecclesiastical affairs;
but these were regulated by a set of canons drawn up
in 1542, under the inspection of Ivan Vasiliivitch, in
a grand council held at Mosco. In the civil statutes of
the sudebnik, theft was punished in the first instance by
restitution, or, if the thief were unable to restore the
property stolen, he became the slave of the injured par¬
ty, till by his labour he bad made sufficient compensa¬
tion. Of murder nothing is said, except vvhei e the per¬
son slain was a lord or master, when the murderer was
to he punished with death. There is no mention of
torture, except in cases of theft.
Before the acce sicn of the house of Romanof, the
S I A.
commercial intercourse which the cities of Novgorod Itussi*.
and Pscove formerly held with the Hans towns, had en-
tirely ceased ; but this was in some degree compensated
by the newly established trade between Russ:a and Eng¬
land, the centre of which was Archangel. This trade
had been lately increased by the products derived from
the acquisition of Siberia, in exchange for which the
English principally supplied the Russians with broad
doth. In 1568, an English counting-house was esta¬
blished at Mosco, and about the same time the Russian
company wras incorporated. Previous to the 15th cen¬
tury, the trade of the Russians had been carried on
merely by barter, but during that century the coinage
of money commenced at Novgorod and Pscove; and
from this time their commerce was placed on an equal
footing with that of the other European nations.
Except in the article of commerce, the Russians
were deplorably behind the rest of Europe; and though
attempts had been made by Ivan I. Ivan Vasiliivitch
II. and Boris, to cultivate their manners and improve
the state of their arts and manufactures, these attempts
had failed of success. The following characteristic
features of the state of Russia in the l6th century, are
given by Mr Tooke.
The houses were in general of timber, and badly
constructed, except that in Mosco and other great
towns, there were a few houses built of brick.
That contempt for the female sex, which is inva¬
riably a characteristic of defective civilization, was con¬
spicuous among the Russians. The women were kept
in a state of perfect bondage, and it was thought a great
instance of liberality, if a stranger were but permitted
to see them. They durst seldom go to church, though
attendance on divine worship was considered of the
highest importance. They were constantly required
to be within doors, so that they very seldom enjoyed
the fresh air.
The men of the middle ranks always repaired about
noon to the market, where they transacted business to¬
gether, conversed about public affairs, and attended the
courts of judicature to hear the causes that were going
forward. This was undoubtedly a practice productive
of much good, as the inhabitants of the towns by these
means improved their acquaintance, interchanged the
knowledge they had acquired, and thus their patriotic
affections were nourished and invigorated.
In agreements and bargains the highest asseveration
was, “ If I keep not my word, may it turn to my in¬
famy,” a custom extremely honourable to the Russians
of those days, as they held the disgrace of having for¬
feited their word to be the deepest degradation.
If the wife was so dependent on her husband, the
child was still more dependent on his father; for pa¬
rents were allowed to sell their children.
Masters and servants entered into a mutual contract
respecting the terms of their connection, and a written
copy of this contract was deposited in the proper court,
where, if either party broke the contract, the other
might lodge his complaint.
Single combat still continued to be the last resource
in deciding a cause ; and to this the judge resorted in
cases which he knew not otherwise to determine: but
duels out of court were strictly prohibited ; and when
these took place, and either party fell, the survivor was
regarded
K U S S I A.
373
llSSlft.
91
( jm-
sl es that
li a the
e ion of
J hail
] isnof.
. 1613.
92
makes
we with
Swedes
‘ Poles,
regarded as a murderer, and punished accordingly.
Personal vengeance was forbidden under the strictest
penalties.
The nobles wei*e universally soldiers, and were ob¬
liged to appear when summoned, to assist the prince in
his wars.
Till the end of the l6th century, the boor was not
bound to any particular master. He tilled the ground
of a nobleman for a certain time on stated conditions.
Thus, he either received part of the harvest or of the
cattle, a portion of wood, hay, &e ; or he worked five
days for the master, and on the sixth was at liberty to
till a piece of ground set apart for his use. At the ex¬
piration of the term agreed on, either party might give
up the contract to the other; the boor might remove to
another master, and the master dismiss the boor that
did not suit him.
During the troubles and dissensions in which the em¬
pire had been involved, since the death of Feodor Iva-
novitch, the chief men of the state were divided into
several parties. Of these, one sought to elevate to the
throne a Polish prince, while another rather favoured
the succession of a Swede. A third, and by far the
strongest party, were desirous to placeupon the thronea
native Russian; and they soon turned the’r eyes on
Mikhail Ilomanof, a distant relation of the ancient fa¬
mily of the tzars, whose father was metropolitan of
Rostof. The clergy seemed particularly interested in
this choice, as they justly concluded, that a Russian
born and brought up in the orthodox Greek faith,
would most effectually prevent the poison of Catholic
opinions or Protestant heresy, the introduction of which
was to he feared from the accession of a Polish or a
Swedish monarch. Accordingly, the voice of a single
ecclesiastic decided the electors in favour of Mikhail.
A metropolitan declared in the hall of election, that it
had been announced to him by divine revelation, that
the young Romanof would prove the most fortunate and
pi ospe ous of all the tzars who had filled the Russian
throne. This revelation had an immediate effect on the
electors, as their reverence for the superior clergy was
so great, that none could presume to doubt the veracity
of a person of such exalted rank and sacred function.
The revelation once made public, the people too ex¬
pressed so decidedly their desire to have the young
Romanof for their sovereign, that all soon united in
their choice. The young man himself, however, re¬
fused the proffered honour, and his mother, dreading
the fate that might arise from so dangerous an elevation,
with tears implored the deputies to depart. The mo¬
dest re rusal of Mikhail served only to persuade the
people, that he was the most worthy object on which
they could fix their choice; and at length the deputies
returned to Mo co, bringing with them the consent of
the monarch elect. The coronation took place on the
11th of June 1613, and thus the views of Poland and
of Sweden, as well as the designs of Marina, the widow
of the first pretender Dimitri, who still contrived to
keep a party in her favour, were entirely frustrated.
At the accession of Mikhail, the Swedes and Poles
weie in possession of several parts of the empire; and to
dislodge these invaders was the first object of the new
tzar. Aware of the difficulty of contending at once
with both these formidable enemies, he began by nego-
fiating a treaty of peace with Sweden. This was not
Russia.
effected without considerable sacrifices. Mikhail agreed
to give up Ingriu and Karilii, and to evacuate Esthonia
and Livonia Thus freed from his most dangerous ene¬
my, Mikhail prepared to oppose the Poles, of whom a
numerous body had entered Russia,to supportthe claims
of their king’s son, Vladi laf. Mikhail proceeded,
however, in a verpr wary manner, and instead of op¬
posing the invaders in the open field, he entrapped
them by ambuscades, or allured them into districts al¬
ready desolated, where they suffered so much from cold
and hunger, that in 16’19 they agreed to a cessation of
hostilities for fourteen years and a half, on condition
that the Russians should cede to Poland the government
of Smolensk. 93
Thus freed from external enemies on terms which, Hisprudent
though not very honourable, were the best that the contHct,
then posture of his affairs admitted, Mikhail set himself’
to arrange the internal affairs of his empire. He be¬
gan by placing his father at the head of the church, by
conferring on him.the dignify of patriarch, which had
become vacant. The counsels of this venerable man
were of great advantage to Mikhail, and contributed to
preserve that peace and tranquillity by which the reign
of this monarch was in general distinguished. The
tzar’s next step was to form treaties of alliance with
the principal commercial states of Europe. He accord¬
ingly sent ambassadors to England, Denmark,Holland,
and theGerman empire ; and Russia,which had hitherto
hern considered rather as an Asiatic than a European
power, became so respectable in the eyes of her north¬
ern neighbours, that they vied with each other in form¬
ing with her commercial treaties.
Mikhail also began those improvements of the laws
which we shall presently see more fully executed by his
son and successor; but the tide of party ran so high,
that he could do but little in the, way of reformation.
He was also obliged to put his frontiers in a state of de¬
fence, to provide for the expiration of the truce with
Poland, which now drew nigh : and as no permanent
peace had been established, both parties be^an to pre¬
pare for a renewal of hostilities. Indeed the armistice
was broken by the Russians, who, on the death of Sigis-
mund, king of Poland, appeared before Smolensk, and
justified the infringement of the treaty, on the pretext
that it was concluded with Sighmund, and not with his
successors. Nothing of consequence,however, was done
before Smolensk; and the Russian commander,after ha¬
ving lain there in perfect indolence, with an army of
50,000 men, for tws years, at length raised the siege.
Mikhail attempted to engage the Swedes in an alliance
with him against Poland ; but failing in this negocia-
tion, patched up a new treaty, which continued un¬
broken till his death. This happened in 1645.
Mikhail was succeeded byhis son Alexei; but as the An. 16 t.fi.
young prince was only 15 years of age at his father’s 94.
death, a nobleman named Moro ofnad been appointed Accession
his governor, and regent of the empire. This man
possc s>ed all the ambition, without the prudence and ad¬
dress of Boris, and in attempting to raise himself and
his adherents to the highest posts in the state, he in¬
curred the hatred of all ranks of people. Though Mo-
rosof, by properly organising the army, provided for
the defence of the empire Against external enemies, he
shamefully neglected internal policy, and connived at
the mest flagrant enormities in the administration of
justice...
of Alexei
Mikhail-
ovitch.
374 * II U S
Russia, justice. These abuses went so far, that the populace
once stopped the tzar as he was returning from church
to his palace,calling aloud for righteous judges. Though
Alexei promised to make strict enquiry into the natu e
and extent of their grievances, and to inflict deserved
punishment on the guilty, the people had not patience
to await this tardy process, and proceeded to plunder
the houses of those nobles who were most obnoxious
to them. They were at length pacified, however, on
condition that the author of their oppression should be
brought to condign punishment. One of the most ne¬
farious judges was put to death ; and the principal ma¬
gistrate of Mosco fell a victim to their rage. The life
of Morosof was spared at the earnest entreaty of the
zar, who engaged for his future good behaviour.
Similar disturbances had broken out at Novgorod
and Pscove; but they were happily terminated, chiefly
through the exertions of the metropolitan Nicon, a
man of low birth, but who, from a reputation for ex¬
traordinary piety and holiness, had raised himself to the
patriarchal dignity, and was high in favour with Alexei.
These commotions were scarcely assuaged, -when the
internal tranquillity of the empire was again threatened
by a new pretender to the throne. This man was the
son of a linen-draper, but gave himself out at one time
for the son of the emperor Dimitri, at another for the
son of Schuiskoy. Fortunately for Alexei the Poles
and Swedes, whose interest it was to have fomented
these intestine disturbances, remained quiet spectators
of them, and the pretender meeting with few adherents,
was soon taken and hanged.
The pacific conduct of the neighbouring states did not
long continue, though indeed we may attribute the re-
fi-j newal of hostilities to the ambition of the tzar.
War with The war with Poland was occasioned by Alexei’s sup-
Sweden^ P^tmff the Kozaks, a military horde, w ho had left
'1 ^ ‘ the northern shores of the Dniepr, and retired further
to the south. Here they had established a military de¬
mocracy, and during the dominion of the Tartars in
Russia, had been subject to the khan of those tribes ;
but after the expulsion or subjugation of the Tartars,
the Kozaks had put themselves under the guardianship
of Poland, to which kingdom they formerly belonged.
As the Polish clergy, however, attempted to impose on
them the Greek faith, they threw off their allegiance to
the king of Poland, and claimed the patronage of Rus¬
sia. Alexei, who seems to have sought for a pretext to
break w ith Poland,gladly received them as his subjects,
as he hoped, writh their assistance, to recover the terri¬
tories that had been ceded to Poland by his father. He
began by negociation, and sent an embassy to the king
of Poland, complaining of some Polish publications, in
which reflections had been cast on the honour of his fa¬
ther, and demanding that by way of compensation, the
Russian territories formerly ceded to Poland, should be
restored. The king of Poland of course refused so ar¬
rogant a demand, and both parties prepared for war.
The Russians,assisted by the Kozaks, w’ere so successful
in this contest, that the king of Sweden became jealous
of Alexei’s good fortune, and apprehensive of an attack.
He therefore determine! to take an active part in the
war, especially as the Lithuanians, who were extremely
averse to the Russian dominion, had sought his protec¬
tion. The war with Sweden commenced in iGofi, and
eont.nued for two years, wdthoat any important advan-
S I A.
tage being gained by either party. A truce was con- Itussij
eluded in 1(3.58, for three years, and at the termination
of this period, a solid peace was established. In the
mean time the -war with Poland continued, but was at
length terminated by an armistice,which was prolonged
from time to time, during the remainder of Alexei’s
reign.
The reign of this monarch is as remarkable for tur¬
bulence, as that of his predecessor had been for tran¬
quillity. No sooner w’as peace established with the
neighbouring states than fresh commotions shook the
empire from within. The Don Kozaks, who now
formed a part of the Russian population, felt themselves
aggrieved by the rigour with which one of their officers
had been treated, and placing at their head Radzin, the
brother of the deceased, broke out into open rebellion.
Allured by the spirit of licentiousness, and the hopes of
plunder, vast numbers both of Kozaks and inferior Rus¬
sians flocked to the standard of Radzin, and f ormed an
army of nearly 200,000 men. This force, however,
was formidable merely from its numbers. Radzin’s
follow'ers were without arms, without discipline, and
were quite unprepared to stand the attack of regular
troops. Radzin himself seems to have placed no re¬
liance on the courage or fidelity of his followers, and
eagerly embraced the first opportunity of procuring a
pardon by submission. Having been deceived into a
belief that this pardon would be granted on his sur¬
rendering himself to the mercy of the tzar, he set out
for Mosco, accompanied by his brother; but when he
was arrived within a short distance of the capital,
whither notice of his approach had been sent, he was
met by a cart containing a gallows, on which he was
hanged without ceremony. His followers, who had as¬
sembled at Astracan, were surrounded by the tzar’s
troops, taken prisoners, and 12,000 of them hung on
the gibbets in the highways. Thus this formidable re¬
bellion, which had threatened to subvert the authority
of Alexei, was crushed almost at its commencement. y |
The influence which Alexei had obtained over the Comm I
Donskoi Kozaks, excited the jealousy of the Sublime nienul
Porte, who justly dreaded the extension of the Russian
territory on the side of the Crimea, a peninsula which at
that time belonged to Turkey. After a successful at¬
tempt on the frontiers of Poland, a Turkish army en¬
tered the Ukraine, and the Russians made preparations
to oppose them. Alexei endeavoured to form a confe¬
deracy against the infidels among the Christian poten¬
tates of Europe; but the age of crusading chivalry
was over, and the tzar was obliged to make head against
the Turks, assisted by his single ally theking of Poland.
The Turkish arms were for some years victorious, espe¬
cially on the side of Poland, but at length a check was
put to their successes by the Polish general Sobieski,
who afterwards ascended the throne of that kingdom.
Hostilities between the Turks and Russians were not,
however, term nated during the reign of Alexei, and
the tzar left to his successor the prosecution of the war. <11
The reign of Alexei is mo^t remarkable for the im- Alexei I
provements introduced by him into the Russian laws. imprc;'l
Before his time the emannoi ukases, or personal orders I
of the sovereign, xvere almost the only law s of the conn- ]
try. These edicts were as various as the opinions, pre¬
judices, and passions of men; and before the days of
Alexei they produced endless contentions. To remedy
tins
i
E U S
H ia. this evil, he made a selection from all the edicts of his
■' predecessors, of such as had been current for 100 years ;
presuming that these either were founded in natural
justice, or during so long a currency had formed the
minds of the people to consider them as just. This
digest, which he declared to be the common law of
Kussia, and which is prefaced by a sort of institute, is
known by the title of the Ulogenie or Selection, and was
long the standard law book ; and all edicts prior to it
were declared to be obsolete. He soon made his new
code, however, more bulky than the Selection ; and the
additions by his successors are beyond enumeration.
This was undoubtedly a great and useful work; but
Alexei performed another still greater.
Though there were many courts of judicature in this
widely extended empire, the emperor was always lord
paramount, and could take a cause from any court im¬
mediately before himself. But as several of the old
nobles had the remains of pidncipalities m their families,
and held their own courts, the sovereign or his ministers,
at a distance up the country, frequently found it diffi¬
cult to bring a culprit out of one of these hereditary
feudal jurisdictions, and try him by the laws of the em¬
pire. This was a very disagreeable limitation of im¬
perial power; and the more so, that some families,
claimed even a right of replevance. A lucky opportu¬
nity soon offered of settling the dispute, and Alexei em¬
braced it with great ability.
Some families on the old frontiers were taxed with
their defence, for which they were obliged to keep re¬
giments on foot; and as they were but scantily indem¬
nified by the state, it sometimes required the exertion
of authority to make them keep up their levies. When
the frontiers by the conquest of Kazan were far extend¬
ed, those gentlemen found the regiments no longer
burdensome, because by the help of false musters, the
formerly scanty allowance much more than reimbursed
them for the expence of the establishment. The conse¬
quence was, that disputes arose among them about the
right of guarding certain districts, and law suits were
necessary to settle their respective claims. These were
tedious and intricate. One claimant showed the order
of the court, issued a century or two back, to his an¬
cestor, for the marching of his men, as a proof that the
right was then in the family. His opponent proved,
that his ancestors had been the real lords of the marches;
but that, on account of their negligence, the court had
issued an emmanoit ukase to the other, only at that par¬
ticular period. The emperor ordered all the family ar¬
chives to be brought to Mosco, and all documents on
both sides to be collected. A time was set for the exami¬
nation; a fine wooden court-house was built, every paper
was lodged under a good guard; the day was appointed
when the court should be opened and the claims heard;
but that morning the house, with all its contents, was
in two hours consumed by fire. The emperor then
S I A.
375
said, “ Gentlemen, henceforward your ranks, your pri- Russia,
vileges, and your courts, are the nation’s, and the na- w-y-w'
tion will guard itself. Your archives are unfortunately
lost, but those of the nation remain. I am the keeper,
and it is my duty to administer justice for all and to all.
Your ranks are not private, but national ; attached to
the services you are actually performing. Hencefor-
ward Colonel Buturlin (a private gentleman) ranks be¬
fore Captain Viazemsky (an old prince)” (f). qq
The Russians owe more to this prince than many of He extands
their historians seem willing to acknowledge; and there the com-
seems no doubt that some of the improvements attribu- nietce ot
ted to Peter the Great, were at least projected by his fa- IiUsna’
ther. Under Alexei a considerable trade was opened
with China, from which country silks, and other rich
stuffs, rhubarb, tea, &c. were brought into Russia, and
exchanged for the Siberian furs. The exportation of
Russian products to other countries was also increased ;
and we are assured that Alexei had even projected the
formation of a navy, and would have executed the de¬
sign, had he not been perpetually occupied in foreign
wars and domestic troubles.
Alexei died in 1676, leaving three sons and six An. 16TG,
daughters.—Two of the sons, Feodor and Ivan, were 99
by a first marriage; the third, Peter, by a second. The
two former, particularly Ivan, were of a delicate consti¬
tution, and some attempts were made by the relations
of Peter to set them aside. These attempts, however,
proved unsuccessful, and Feodor was appointed the suc¬
cessor of Alexei.
The reign of this prince -was short, and distinguished
rather for the happiness which the nation then experi¬
enced, than for the importance of the transactions that
took place. Fie continued the war with the Turks for
four years after his father’s death, and at length brought
it to an honourable conclusion, by a truce for 20 years,
after the Turks had acknowledged the Russian right of
sovereignty over the Kozaks. Feodor died in 1682, but
before his death nominated his half-brother Peter his
successor.
The succession of Peter, though appointed by their An, 1£!82.
favourite tzar Feodor, was by no means pleasing to the .10°
majority of the Russian nobles, and it was particularly
opposed by Galitzin, the prime minister of the late tzar. °e&s SopKta,
This able man had espoused the interest of Sophia, the
sister of Feodor and Ivan, a young woman of eminent
abilities, and the most insinuating address. Sophia,upon
pretence of assertingthe claim&ofher brotherlvan, who,
though of a feeble constitution and weak intellects, was
considered as the lawful heir of the crown, had really
formed a design of securing the succession to herself;
and, with that view, had not only insinuated herself in¬
to the confidence and good graces of Galitzin, but had
brought over to her interests the Strelitzes (o). These
licentious soldiers assembledlbr the purpose,as was pre¬
tended, of placing on the throne Prince Ivan, whom
they
(f) This transaction is, by most historians, placed under the reign of Alexei, as we have related it; but Mr
Tooke, in his history of Russia (vol. ii. p. 37.) attributes the burning of the records of service, by which the
nobles and chief courtiers held their offices, to Feodor.
(g) The Strelitzes composed the standing army of Russia, and formed the body guard of the tzars. At this
time they amounted to about 14,000, and of course became a formidable engine i&t&e hands of the enterprising
princess.
lei
Joint reign
of Ivan
»and Peter
I.
An. 1687.
102
The party
of Peter
gains
ground.
11 U S S I A.
they proclaimed tzar by acclamation. During three
days they roved about the city of Mosco, committing
the greatest excesses, aud putting to death several of the
chief officers of state, who were suspected of being hos¬
tile to the designs of Sophia. Their employer did not,
however, entirely gain her point; for as the new tzar
entertained a sincere affection for his half-brother Peter,
he insisted that this prince should share with him the
imperial dignity. This was at length agreed to ; and
on the 6th of May 1682, Ivan and Peter were solemnly
crowned joint emperors of all the Russias, while the
princess Sophia was nominated their copartner in the
government.
From the imbecility of Ivan and the youth of Peter,
who was now only 10 years of age, the whole power of
the government rested on Sophia and her minister Ga-
litzin, though till the year 1687 the names of Ivan and
Peter only were annexed to the imperial decrees.
Scarcely had Sophia established her authority than she
was threatened with deposition, from an alarming insur¬
rection of the Strelitzes. This was excited by their
comm nder Prince Kovanskoi, who had demanded of
Sophia that she "would marry one of her sisters to his son,
but had met with a mortifying refusal from the princess.
In consequence of this insurrection, which threw the
whole city of Mosco into terror and consternation, So¬
phia and the two young tzars took refuge in a monas¬
tery, about 12 leagues from the capital; and before the
Strelitzes could follow them thither, a considerable body
of soldiers, principally foreigners, was assembled in their
defence. Kovanskoi was taken prisoner, and instantly
beheaded ; and though his followers at first threatened
dreadful vengeance on his executioners, they soon found
■themselves obliged to submit. From every regiment
was selected the tenth man, who w?as to suffer as an
atonement for the rest; but this cruel punishment was
remitted, and only the most guilty among the ringlead¬
ers suffered death. (
The quelling of these disturbances gave leisure to the
friends of Peter to pursue the plans vdiich they had
formed for subverting the authority of Sophia ; and
about this time a favourable opportunity offered, in con¬
sequence of a rupture with Turkey. The Porte was
now engaged in a war with Poland and the German
empire, and both these latter powers had solicited the
assistance of Russia against the common enemy. Sophia
and her party were averse to the alliance; but as there
were in the council many secret friends of Peter, these
had sufficient influence to persuade the majority, that a
Turkish war would be of advantage to the state. They
even prevailed on Galitzin to put himself at the head
of the army, and thus removed their principal oppo-
rent. It is difficult to conceive how a man, so able in
the cabinet as Galitzin, could have suffered his vanity
so far to get the better of his good sense, as to accept a
military command, for which he certainly had no talents.
Assembling an army of nearly 800,000 men, he march¬
ed towards the confines of Turkey, and here consumed
two campaigns in marches and countermarches, and lost
nearly 40,000 men, partly in unsuccessful skirmishes
w ith the enemy, but chiefly from disease.
While Galitzin was thus trifling away his time in
the south Peter, who already beg«n to give proofs of
those great talents which afterwards enabled him to act
so conspicuous a part in the theatre of the north, was
liussia.
strengthening his party among the Russian nobles. His
ordinary residence was at a village not far from Mosco,
and here he had assembled round him a considerable
number of young men of rank and influence, whom he
called his play-mates. Among these were two foreign¬
ers, Lefort a Genevese, and Gordon a Scotchman, who
afterwards signalized themselves in his service. These
young men had formed a sort of military company, of
which Lefort was captain, while the young tzar, be¬
ginning with the situation of drummer, gradually rose
through every subordinate office. Under this appear¬
ance of a military game, Peter was secretly establishing
himself in the affections of his young companions, and
effectually lulled the suspicions of Sophia, till it was too
late for her to oppose his machinations.
About the middle of the year 1689, Peter, who had An. 168
now attained his seventeenth year, determined to make 1():i
an effort to deprive Sophia of all share in the govern- 1 eter n!)
ment, and to secure to himself the undivided sovereign- u™ivide
ty. On occasion of a solemn religious meeting that sovereigi
was held, Sophia had claimed the principal place as re¬
gent of the empire ; but this claim was strenuously op¬
posed by Peter, who, rather than fill a subordinate
situation, quitted the place of assembly, and, with his
friends and adherents, withdrew to the monastery of the
Holy Trinity, which had formerly sheltered him and
his copartners from the fury of the Strelitzes. This was
the signal for an open rupture. Sophia, finding that she
could not openly oppose the party of the tzars, attempt¬
ed to procure his assassination ; but as her design was
discovered, she thought proper to solicit an accommo¬
dation. This was agreed to, on condition that she
should give up all claim to the regency, and retire to a
nunnery. The commander of the Strelitzes, who was
to have been her agent in the assassination of Peter, was
beheaded, and the minister Galitzin sent into banish¬
ment to Archangel. jot
Peter now saw himself in undisputed possession of the He esta
imperial throne ; for though Ivan was still nominally 1
tzar, he had voluntarily resigned all participation in mi!'tar-v
and nav
the administration of affairs, and retired to a life of ob- forcCi
scurity. The first object to which the tzar directed his
attention was the establishment of a regular and well-dis¬
ciplined military force. He had learned by experience
how little dependencewas to be placed on the Strelitzes,
and these regiments he determined to disband. He
commissioned Lefort and Gordon to levy new regiments,
Avhich, in their whole constitution, dvess, and military
exercises, should be formed on the model of other Euro¬
pean troops. He next resolved to carry into execution
the design which had been formed by his father, of con¬
structing a navy. For this purpose he first took a jour¬
ney to Archangel, where he employed himself in ex-,
amining the operations of the shipwrights, and occasion¬
ally taking a part in their labours; but as he learned
that the art of ship building was practised in greater
perfection in Holland, and some other maritime coun¬
tries of Europe, he sent thither several young Russians
to be initiated into the best methods of constructing
ships of war. The ether measmes t hen by Peter for
establishing a navy, and the success with which they
were attended, have been already related under his life*,
to which we may refer our readers for several circum¬
stances relating to his life and character ; as our object
here is not to write a biography of this extraordinary
man,
•See •
I.
ssitt.
H iic-
tes a-
ga the
Ti >.
A 1700.
06
f ■ en-
pi 3 in a
w with
C lesXIL
61 veden.
.07
J' :teated
^ he
«> leg.
RUSSIA.
man, but briefly to narrate the transactions of his
reign.
The war with Turkey still languished, but Peter was
resolved to prosecute it with vigour, hoping to get pos¬
session of the town of Azof, and thus open a passage to
the Black sea. He placed Gordon, Lefort, and two of
his nobles at the head of the forces destined for this ex¬
pedition, and himself attended the army as a private vo¬
lunteer. The success of the first campaign was but trif¬
ling, and Peter found that his deficiency of artillery,
and his want of transports, prevented him from making
an effectual attack on Azof. These difficulties, how¬
ever, were soon surmounted. He procured a supply of
artillery and engineers from the emperor and the Dutch,
and foundmeanstoprovidea numberof transports. With
these auxiliaries he opened the second campaign, defeat¬
ed the Turks on the sea of Azof, and made liimself mas¬
ter of the town Peter was so elated with these suc¬
cesses, that on his return from the seat of war, he march¬
ed his troops into Mosco in triumphal procession, in
which Lefort, a? admiral of the transports, and Scheim
as commander of the land forces, bore the most conspi¬
cuous parts, while Peter himself was lost without dis¬
tinction in the crowd of subaltern officers.
He now resolved to form a fleet in the Black sea;
but as his own revenues were insufficient for this pur¬
pose, he issued a ukase, commanding the patriarch and
other dignified clergy, the nobility and the merchants,
to contribute a part of their income towards fitting out
a certain number of ships. This proclamation was ex¬
tremely unpopular,and, together with the numerous in¬
novations which Peter was everj, day introducing, espe¬
cially his sending the young nobles to visit foreign coun¬
tries, and his own avowed intention of making the tour
of Europe, contributed to raise against him a formidable
party. The vigilance and prudence of the tzar, how¬
ever, extricated him from the dangers with which he
was threatened, and enabled him to carry into execu¬
tion his proposed journey. See Peter I.
On his return to his own dominions, Peter passed
through Raw a, where Augustus king of Poland then
was. The tzar had determined, in conjunction with
Augustus and the king of Denmark, to take advantage
of the youth and inexperience of Charles XII. who had
just succeeded to the Swedish throne; and in this inter¬
view with Augustus, he made the final arrangements for
the part which each was to take in the war. Au¬
gustus was to receive Livonia as his part of the spoil,
while Frederick king of Denmark had his eye on Hol¬
stein, and Petsr had formed designs on Ingria, former¬
ly a province of the Russian empire.
In the middle of the year 1700, Charles had left his
capital, to oppose these united enemies. He soon com¬
pelled the king of Denmark to give up his designs on
Holstein, and sign a treaty of peace; and beinsj thus at
liberty to turn his arms against the other members of
the confederacy, he resolved first to lead his army
against the king of Poland ; but on his way be received
intelligence that the tzar had laid sie-e to Narva with
100,000 men. On this he immediately embarked at
farlscrona, though it was then the depth of winter,
and the Baltic was scarcely navigable; and soon landed
at Pernaw in Livonia with part of his forces, having
ordered the rest to Beval. His army did not exceed
20,000 men, but it was composed of the best .soldiers iu
Vox,. XVIII. Part I. ' * ^ •
377
Europe, while that of the Russian? was little better Russia,
than an undisciplined multitude. Every possible ob-
struction, however, had been thrown ill the way of the
Swedes. 1 hii ty thousand Russians w'ere posted in a de¬
file on the road, and this corps was sustained by another
body ot 20,000 drawn up some leagues nearer Narva.
Peter himself had set out to ha-ten the march of a rein¬
forcement of 40,000 men, with whom he intended to
attack the Swedes in fl ink and rear; but the celerity
and valour of Charles baffled every attempt to oppose
him. Lie set out with 4000 foot, and an equal num¬
ber of cavalry, leaving the rest of the army to f How at
their leisure. With this small body he attacked and
defeated the Russian armies successively,and pushed his
way to Peter’s camp, for the attack of which he gave
immediate orders. This camp was fortified by lines of
eircumvallation and contravallation, by redoubts, by a
line of 150 brass cannons placed in front, and defended
by an army ot 80,000 men ; yet so violent was the at¬
tack of the Swedes, that in three hours the entrench¬
ments were carried, and Charles, with only 4000 men,
that composed the wing which he commanded, pursued
the flying enemy, amounting to 50,000, to the river
Narva. Here the bridge broke down with the weight
of the fugitives, and the river was filled with their bo¬
dies. Great numbers returned in despair to their camp,
where they defended themselves for a short time, but
were at last obliged to surrender. In this battle, SO,000
were killed in the intrenchments and the pursuit, or
drowned in the river; 20,000 surrendered at discretion,
and were dismissed unarmed, while the rest were totally
dispersed. A hundred and fifty pieces of cannon, 28
mortars, 151 pairs of colours, 20 standards, and all the
Russian baggage, fell into the hands of the Swedes ; and
the duke de Croy, the prince of Georgia, and seven
other generals were made prisoners. Charles behaved
with the greatest generosity to the conquered. Being
informed that the tradesmen of Narva had refused credit
to the officers whom he detained prisoners, he sent 1000
ducats to the duke de Croy, and to every other officer
a proportionable sum.
Peter was advancing with 40,000 men to surround
the Swedes, when he received intelligence of the dread¬
ful defeat at Narva. He was greatly chagrined ; but
comforting himself wdth the hopes that the Swedes
would in time teach the Russians to beat them, he re¬
turned to his own dominions, where he applied himself
with the utmost diligence to the raising of another army.
He evacuated all the provinces which he had invaded,
and for a time abandoned all bis great projects, thus
leaving Charles at liberty to prosecute the war against
Poland.
As Augustus had expected an attack, he endeavour¬
ed to draw the tzar into a close alliance with him. The
two monarchs had an interview at Birsen, where it was
agreed that Augustus should lend the tzar 50,000 Ger¬
man soldiers, to be paid by Russia ; that the tzar should
send an equal number of his troops to be trained up to
the art of war in Poland ; and that he should pay the
king 3,000,000 of rixdullars in the space of two years.
Of this treaty Charles had notice, and, by means of his
minister Count Piper, entirely frustrated the scheme. ^
After the battle of Narva, Charles became confident Rencwt(i
and negligent, while the activity of Peter increased with exertions of-
lib lasses. He supplied his want of artillery by melting; Refer,
t 3 B down
oir'Q
'Ji o
11 u s
liussia.
109
The Swedes
defeated.
110
Augnstus
obliged to
resign the
erown of
Poland,
* See Put-
ml.
Ill
Peter de¬
termines to
continue
the war.
down the bells of the churches, and constructed nume¬
rous small vessels on the lake of Ladoga, to oppose the
entrance of the Swedes into his dominions. He took
every advantage of Charles’s negligence, and engaged
in 1'requent skirmishes, in which, though often beaten,
he was sometimes victorious. Thus, he proved to his
soldiers, that the Swedes though conquerors, were not
invincible, and kept up the spirit of his troops by libe¬
rally rewarding every instance ot courage and success.
He contrived to make himself master of the river Neva,
and captured Nyenschantz, a fortress at the mou h of
that river. Here he laid the foundation of th it city
which he had long projected, and winch w'asto become
the future metr polis o- his empire. At length in 1704J
he became master of Ingria, and appointed his favourite
Prince Menzik. ffto be viceroy of that province, with
strict oiders to make the building of the new city his
principal concern. HeiC already buikkngs were rising
in every quarter, and navigation and commerce weie
increasing in vigour and extent.
In the mean time Augustus king of Poland, though
treating withCharles for the surrender of his dominions,
was obliged to keep up the appearance of war, which he
had neither ability nor inclination to conduct. He had
been lately joined by Prince Menzikoff with 30,000
Russians ; and this obliged him, contrary to his inclina¬
tion, to hazard an engagement with Meyerfeldt, who-
commanded 10,000 men, one half of whom were
Swt des. As at this time no disparity of numbers what¬
ever was reckoned an equivalent to the valour ot the
Swedes, Meyerfeldt did not decline the combat, though
the army of the enemy was four times as numerous as
his own. With his countrymen he defeated the enemy’s
first line, and was on the point of defeating the second,
when Stanislaus, whh the Poles and Lithuanians, gave
way. Meyerfeklt then perceived that the battle was
lost; but he fought desperately, that he might avoid
the disgrace of a defeat. At last, however, he was op¬
pressed by numbers, and forced to surrender ; suffering
the Swedes for the first time to be conquered by their
enemies. The whole army were taken prisoners ex¬
cepting Major-general Krassau, who having repeatedly
rallied a body of horse formed into a brigade, at last
broke through the enemy, and escaped to Posnania.
Augustus had scarcely sung Te Deum for this victory,
when his plenipotentiary returned from Saxony with the
articles ot the treaty, by which he was to renounce all
claim to the crown of Poland in favour of his rival Sta-
nislaus. The king hesitated and scrupled, but at last
signed them ; after which he set out for Saxony, glad at
any rate to be freed from such an enemy as the king of
Sweden, and from such allies as the Russians.
The tzar Peter was no sooner informed of this extra¬
ordinary treaty, and the cruel execution of his pleni¬
potentiary Patkul *, than he sent letters to every court
in Christendom, complaining of this gross violation of
the law of nations. He entreated the emperor, the
queen of Rr tain, and the State-General, to revenge
this insult on humanity. He stigmatized the compli¬
ance of Augustus with the opprobrious name of pusilla¬
nimity ; exhorted them not to guarantee a treaty so
unju>t, but to despise the menaces of the Swedish bully.
So well, however, was the pi’owess of the king of Swe¬
den known, that none of the allies thought proper to
irritate him, by refusing to guarantee any treaty he
S I A.
thought proper. At first, Peter thought of reveriging Russia,
Patkul’s death by massacring the Swedish prisoners at '''“■v'*
Mosco ; but from this he was deterred, by remembering
that Charles had many more Russian prisoners than he
himself had of Swedes. Giving over all thoughts of re- An<
venging himself in this way, therefore, in the year 1707 112
he entered Poland at the head of 60,000 men. Ad- Peterem
vancing to Leopold, he made himself master of that l’ulundt
city, where he assembled a diet, and solemnly deposed
Stanislaus with the same ceremonies which had been
used with regard to Augustus. The country was now
reduced to the most miserable situation; one party,
through fear, adhered to the Swedes; another was
gained over, or forced by Peter to take part with him ;
a violent civil war took place between the two, and
great numbers of people were butchered; while cities,
towns, and villages, were laid in ashes by the frantic
multitude. The appearance of a Swedish army under
King Stanis'auo and General Lewenhaupt, put a stop to
these disorders, Peter himself not caring to stand before
such enemies. He retired, therefore, into Lithuania,
giving out as the cause of his retreat, that the country
could not supply him with provision and forage neces¬
sary for so great an army. nJ
During these transactions Charles had taken up his Charles!
residence in Saxony, where he gave laws to the court of v'dts
Vienna, and in a manner intimidated all Europe. At tiU3tu-» j
last, satiated with the glory of having dethroned one
king, set up another, and struck all Europe with terror
and admiration, he began to evacuate Saxony in pursuit
of his great plan, the dethroning the tzar Peter, and
conquering the vast empire cf Russia. While the army
was on full march in the neighbourhood of Dresden, he
took the extraordinaryresolution of visiting King Augus¬
tus with no more than five attendants. Though he had
no reason to imagine that Augustus either did or could
entertain any friendship for him, he was not uneasy at
the consequences of thus putting himself entirely in his
power. He got to the palace door of Augustus before
it was known that he had entered the city. General
Fleming having seen him at a distance, had only time
to run and inform his master. What might be done in
the present case immediately occurred to the minister,
hut Charles entered the elector’s chamber in his boots
before the latter had time to recover from his surprise.
He breakfasted with him in a friendly manner, and then
expressed a desire of viewing the fortifications While
he was walking round them, a Livonian, who had for¬
merly been condemned in Sweden, and served in the
troops of Saxony, thought he could never have a more
favourable opportunity of obtaining pardon. He there¬
fore begged of King Augustus to intercede for him, be¬
ing fully assured that his majesty could not refuse so
slight a request to a prince in whose power he then was.
Augustus accordingly made the request, but Charles
refused it in such a manner, that he did not think pro¬
per to ask it a second time. Having passed some hours
in tins extraordinary visit, he returned to his army, af¬
ter having embraced and taken leave of the king he had
dethroned. 1
The armies of Sweden, in Saxony, Poland, and Fin- and
land, now exceeded 70,000 men ; a force more than llia!c,y
sufficient to have conquered all the power of Russia, had
they met on equal terms. Peter, who had his army
dispersed in small parties, instantly assembled it on re¬
ceiving
RUSSIA.
«79
5 sia.
Tin us-
aisi .gain
dcf ;di
L 5
at-
ieii , to
A 1703.
! 17
es ad-
Va sto.
ceiving notice of the king of Sweden's march, was
making all possible preparations for a vigorous resist¬
ance, and was on the point of attacking Stanislaus,
when the approach of Charles struck his whole army
with terror. In the month of January 1708 Charles
passed the Niemen, and entered the south gate of Grod¬
no just as Peter was quitting the place by the north
gate. Charles at this time had advanced some distance
before the army, at the head of 600 horse.
The tzar having intelligence of his situation, sent
back a detachment of 2000 men to attack him, but
these were entirely defeated ; and thus Charles became
possessed of the whole province of Lithuania. The king
pursued his flying enemies in the midst of ice and snow,
over mountains, rivers, and morasses, and through ob¬
stacles, which to surmount seemed impossible to human
power. These difficulties, however, he had foreseen,
and had prepared to meet them. As he knew that
the country could not furnish provisions sufficient for
the subsistence of his army, he had provided a large
quantity of biscuit, and on this his troops chiefly sub¬
sisted, till they came to the banks of the Berizine, in
view of Borislow. Here the tzar was posted, and
Charles intended to give him battle, after which he
could the more easily penetrate into Russia. Peter,
however, did not think proper to come to an action,
but retreated towards the Dniepr, whither he was pur¬
sued by Charles, as soon as he had refreshed his army.
The Russians had destroyed the roads, and desolated the
country, yet the Swedish army advanced with great
celerity, and in their march defeated 20,000 Russians,
though entrenched to the very teeth. This victory,
considering the circumstances in which it was gained,
was one of the most glorious that ever Charles had at-
chieved. The memory of it is preserved by a medal
struck in Sweden with this inscription ; Sylvce, paludes,
aggeres, hoslcs, victi.
When the Russians had re-passed the Dniepr, the
tzar, finding himself pursued by an enemy with whom
he could not cope, resolved to make proposals for an
accommodation; but Charles answered his proposals
with this arrogant reply ; “ I will treat with the tzar at
Moscoa reply which was received by Peter with the
coolness of a hero. “My brother Charles, said he, af¬
fects to play the Alexander, hut he shall not find in me
a Darius.” He still, however, continued his retreat,
and Charles pursued so closely, that daily skirmishes
took place between his advanced guard and the rear of
the Russians. In these actions the Swedes generally had
the advantage, though their petty victories cost them
dear, by contributing to weaken their force in a coun¬
try where it covdd not be recruited. The two armies
came so close to each other at Smolensk, that an en¬
gagement took place between a body of Russians com¬
posed of 10,000 cavalry and 6000 Kalmuks, and the
Swedish vanguard,, composed of only six regiments, but
commanded by the king in person. Here the Russians
were again defeated, but Charles having been separated
from the main body of his detachment, was exposed to
great danger. With one regiment only, he fought with
such fury as to drive the enemy before him, when they
thought themselves sure of making him prisoner.
By the 3d of October 1708, Charles had approach¬
ed within 100 leagues of Mosco; but Peter had render¬
ed the roads impassable, and had destroyed the villages
on every side, so as lo cut off every possibility of subsist¬
ence to the enemy. The season was far advanced, and
the severity of winter was approaching, so that the
Swedes were threatened with all the miseries of cold and
famine, at the same time that they were exposed to the
attacks of an enemy greatly superior in number, who,
from their knowledge of the country, had almost con¬
stant opportunities of harassing and attacking them by
surprise. For these reasons the king resolved to pass
the Ukraine, where Mazeppa, a Polish gentleman, was
general and chief of the nation. Mazeppa having been
affronted by the tzar, readily entered into a treaty with
Charles, whom he promised lo assist with 30,000 men,
great quantities of provisions and ammunition, and with
all his treasures, which were immense. The Swedish
army advanced towards the river Disna, where they had
to encounter the greatest difficulties ; a forast above 40
leagues in extent, filled with recks, mountains, and
marshes. To complete their misfortunes, they were
led 30 leagues out of the right way ; all the artillery
was sunk in bogs and marshes; the provision of the sol¬
diers, which consisted of biscuit, w'as exhausted; and
the whole army spent and emaciated when they arrived
at the Disna. Here they expected to have met Mazep¬
pa with his reinforcement ; but instead of that, they
perceived the opposite banks of the river covered with
a hostile army, and the passage itself almost impracti¬
cable. Charles, however, was still undaunted ; he let
his soldiers by ropes down the steep banks; they cros¬
sed the river either by swimming, or on rafts hastily
put together; drove the Russians from their post, and
continued their march. Mazeppa soon after appeared,
having with him about 6000 men, the broken remains
of the army he had promised. The Russians had got in¬
telligence of his designs, defeated and dispersed his ad¬
herents, laid his town in ashes, and taken all the provi¬
sions collected for the Swedish army. However, he still
hoped to be useful by his intelligence in an unknown
country ; and the Kozaks, out cf revenge, crowded
daily to the camp with provisions.
Greater misfortunes still awaited the Swedes. When
Charles entered the Ukraine, he had sent orders to Ge¬
neral Lewenhaupt to meet him with 15,000 men, 6000
of whom were Swedes, and a large convoy of provi¬
sions. Against this detachment Peter now bent his
whole force, and marched against him Avith an army
of 65,000 men. Lewenhaupt had received intelligence
that the Russian army consisted of only 24,000, a force
to which he thought 6000 Swredes superior, and there¬
fore disdained to entrench himself. A furious contest
ensued, in which the Russians wTere defeated with the
loss of 15,000 men. Now, however, affairs began to
take another turn. The Swedes, elated with victory,
prosecuted their march into the interior ; but from the
ignorance or treachery of their guides, were led into a
marshy country, where the roads were made impassable
by felled trees and deep ditches. Here they were at¬
tacked by the tzar with his whole army. Lewenhaupt
had sent a detachment to dispute the passage of a body
of Russians over a morass; but finding his detachment
likely to be overpowered, he marched to support them
with all his infantry. Another desperate battle ensued ;
the Rusians were once more thrown into disorder, and
were just on the point of being totally defeated, when
Peter gave orders to the Kozaks and Kalmuks to fire
3 B 2 upon
Russia.
380 ^ HUS
Russia, npoll all that fled; “ Even kill me, said he, if I should
be so cowardly as to turn my back.” The battle was
now renewed with great vigour; but notwithstanding
the tzar’s positive oi’ders, and his own example, the day
would have been lost, had not General Bauer arrived
with a strong reinforcement of fresh Russian troops.
The engagement was once more renewed, and continu¬
ed without intermission till night. The Sw'edes then
took possession of an advantageous post, but vrere next
morning attacked by the Russians. Lewenhaupt had
formed a sort of rampart with his waggons, but was
obliged to set fire to them to prevent their falling into
the hands of the Russians, while he retreated under co¬
ver of the smoke. The tzar’s troops, however, arrived
in time to save 500 of these waggons, filled with pro¬
visions destined for the distressed Swedes. A strong de¬
tachment was sent to pursue Lewenhaupt; but so terri¬
ble did he now appear, that the Russian general offered
him an honourable capitulation. This was rejected with
disdain, and a fresh engagement took place, in which
the Swedes, now reduced to 4000, again defeated their
enemies, and killed 5000 on the spot. After this,
Lewenhaupt was allowed to pursue his retreat without
molestation, though deprived of all his cannon and pro¬
visions. Prince Menzikoff was indeed detached with a
body of forces to harass him on his march; but the
Swedes were now so formidable, even in their distress,
that Menzikoff dared not attack them, so that Lewen¬
haupt with his 4000 men arrived safe in the camp of
Charles, after having destroyed nearly 30,000 of the
Russians.
This may be said to have been the last successful ef¬
fort of Swedish valour against the troops of Peter. The
difficulties which Charles’s army had now to undergo,
exceeded what human nature could support; yet still
they hoped by constancy and courage to subdue them.
In the severest winter known for a long time, even in
Russia, they made long marches, clothed like savages
in the skins of wild beasts. All the draught horses pe¬
rished ; thousands of soldiers dropt down dead through
cold and hunger; and by the month of February 1709
the whole army was reduced to 18,000. Amidst num¬
berless difficulties these penetrated to Pultava, a town
on the eastern frontier of the Ukraine, where the tzar
had laid up magazines, and of these Charles resolved to
obtain possession. Mazeppa advised the king to invest
the place, in consequence of his having correspondence
with some of the inhabitants, by whose means he hoped
it would be surrendered. However, he was deceived ;
the besieged made an obstinate defence, the Swedes were
repulsed in every assault, and 8000 of them were defeat¬
ed, and almost entirely cut off, in an engagement with
a party of Russians. To complete his misfortunes,
Charles received a shot in his heel from a carabine,
which shattered the bone. For six hours after, he con¬
tinued calmly on horseback, giving orders, till he faint¬
ed with the loss of blood ; after which he was carried
118 into his tent.
Rattle of For some days the tzar, with an army of 70,000
i ultava, menj ha(l lain at a small distance, harassing the Swe¬
dish camp, and cutting off the convoys of provision; but
now intelligence wras received, that he was advancing
as if with a design of attacking the lines. In this situa¬
tion, Charles, woun deJ, distressed, and almostsmrounded
S I iU
by enemies, is said to have, for the first time, assembled a Unsii
grand council of war, the result of which w as, that it 'WY'*
became expedient to march out and attack the Russians.
Voltaire, however, totally denies that the king relaxed
one jot of his wonted obstinacy and arbitrary temper ;
but that, on the 7th of July, he sent for General Rens-
child, and told him, without any emotion, to prepare
for attacking the enemy next morning.
The 8th of July 1709 is remarkable for the battle
which decided the fate of Sweden. Charles having left
8000 men in the camp to defend the works and repel
the sallies of the besieged, began to march against his
enemies by break of day with the rest of the army, con¬
sisting of 26,000 men, of whom 18,000 were Kozaks.
The Russians were drawn up in two lines behind their
entrenchments, the horse in front, and the foot in the
rear, with chasms to suffer the horse to fall back in
case of necessity. General Slippenbach was dispatched
to attack the cavalry, which he did with such impetuo¬
sity that they were broken in an instant. They, how¬
ever, rallied behind the infantry, and returned to the
charge with so much vigour, that the Swedes w'ere dis¬
ordered in their turn, and Slippenbach made prisoner.
Charles was now carried in his litter to the scene of con¬
fusion. His troops, re-animated by the presence of their
leader, returned to the charge, and the battle became
doubtful, when a Uunder of General Creuk, who had
been dispatched by Charles to take the Russians in flank,
and a successful manoeuvre of Prince Menzikoff, decid¬
ed the fortune of the day in favour of the Russians.
Creak’s detachment was defeated, and Menzikoff, who
had been sent by Peter with a strong body to post him¬
self between the Swedes and Pultava, so as to cut off
the.communication of the enemy with their camp, and
fall upon their rear, executed hisorderswith so much suc¬
cess as to cut off a corps de reserve of 3000 men. Charles
had ranged his remaining troops in two lines, with the
infantry in the centre, and the horse on the two wings.
They had already twice rallied, and were now again at¬
tacked on all sides with the utmost fury. Charles in his
litter, with a drawn sword in one hand, and a pistol in
the other, seemed to be everywhere present; but new
misfortunes awaited him. A cannon ball killed both
horses in the litter ; and scarcely were these replaced by
a fresh pair, when a second ball stroke the litter in pieces,
and overturned the king. The Swedish soldiers believ¬
ing him killed, fell back in consternation. The first
line was completely broken, and the second fled,
Charles, though disabled, did everything in his power
to restore order; but the Russians, emboldened by suc¬
cess, pressed so hard on the flying foe, that it was im¬
possible to rally them. Renschild and several other ge¬
nera! officers were taken prisoners, and Charles himself
would have shared the same fate, had not Count Ponia-
losski (father of the future favourite of Catharine II.)
with 500 horse, surrounded the royal person, and with
desperate fury cut his way through ten regiments of the
Russians. YV ith his small guard the king arrived on the
banks of the Dniepr, and was followed by Lewenhaupt
with 4000 foot, and all the remaining cavalry. The
Russians took possession of the Sw edish camp, where
they found a prodigious sum in specie; while Prince
Menzikoff pursued the flying Swedes ; and as they
were in want of boats to cross the Dniepr, obliged them
to
R U S S I A.
381
An I 7H.
9
Ds :rous
sit on of
Pe at
th< ’ruth.
^ 721,
!<) .
J<1).
Nis
k with
P n.
to surrender at discretion. Charles escaped with the
utmost difficulty, but at length reached Otchakofon the
frontiers of Turkey. See Swedent.
By this decisive victory, Peter remained in quiet pos¬
session of his new acquisitions on the Baltic, and was
enabled to catry on, without molestation, the improve¬
ments which he had projected at the mouth of the
Neva. His haughty rival, so long and so just'y dread¬
ed, was now completely humbled, and his ally the king
of Poland was again established on his throne. During
the eight years that had elapsed from the battle of Nar¬
va to that of Pultava, the Russian troops had acquired
the d'scipline and steadiness of veterans, and had at
length learned to beat their former conquerors. If Pe¬
ter had decreed triumphal processions for his trifling
succe-ses at Azof, it is not surprising that he should
commemorate a victory so glorious and so important as
that of Pultava by similar pageants. He made his tri¬
umphal entry into Mosco for the third time, and the
public rejoicings on this occasion far exceeded all that
had before been witnessed in the Russian empire.
The vanquished Charles had, in the mean time, found
a valuable friend in the monarch in whose territories he
had taken refuge. Achmet II. who then filled the Ot¬
toman throne, had beheld with admiration the warlike
achievements of the Swedish hero, and, alarmed at the
late successes of his rival, determined to afford Charles
the most effectual aid. In 17 U, the Turkish emperor
assembled an immense army, and was preparing to in¬
vade the Russian territories, when the tzar, having inti¬
mation of his design, and expecting powerful support
from Cantemir, hospodar of Moldavia, a vassal of the
Porte, resolved to anticipate the Turks, and to make
an inroad into Moldavia. Forgetting his usual pru¬
dence and circumspection, Peter crossed the Dniepr,
and advanced by rapid marches as far as Yassy or Jassy,
the capital of that province, situated on the river
Pruth; but his temerity had nearly cost him his liber¬
ty, if not his life. The particulars of his dangerous si¬
tuation, with the manner in which he was extricated
from it, by the prudent counsel of his consort Cathe¬
rine, and the advantageous treaty of the Pruth, which
was the result of that counsel, have been already relat¬
ed under Catherine I.
By this treaty, in which the interests of Charles had
been almost abandoned, Peter sawhimself delivered from
a dangerous enemy, and returned to his capital, to pro¬
secute those plans for the internal improvement of his
empire which justly entitled him to the appellation of
Great. Before we enumerate these improvements,
however, we must bring the Swedish war to a conclu¬
sion. The death of Charles, in 1718, had left the Swe¬
dish government deplorably weakened, by thecontinual
drains of men and money, occasioned by his mad enter¬
prises, and little able to carry on a war with a monarch
so powerful as Peter. At length, therefore, in 1721,
this ruinous contest, which had continued ever since the
commencement of the century, was brought to a conclu¬
sion by the treaty of Nystaelt, by whicli the Swedes
were obliged to cede to Russia, Livonia, Esthonia, In-
gria, a part of Karelia, the territory of Vyborg, the
isle of Oesel, and all the other islands in the Haltic,from
Courland to Vyborg ; for which concessions they receiv¬
ed back Finland, that had been conquered by Peter,
together with 2,000,090 cf dollars and the liberty of
exporting du‘y free, from Riga, Reval, and Arensberg,
corn to the annual amount of 50,000 rubles. In conse¬
quence of this great accession to the Russian empire,
Peter received from his senate the title of emperor and
autocrat or of all the Russias, and the ancient title of
tzar fell into disuse.
The improvements introduced by Peter into the in¬
ternal policy of the empire, must be acknowledged to
have been numerous and important. He organized
anew the legislative assembly of the stale ; he greatly
ameliorated the administration of justice; he new-mo¬
delled the national army; entirely erected the Russian
navy; rendered the ecclesiastical government milder
and less intolerant; zealously patronised the arts and
sciences; erected an observatory at St Petersburg, and
by publicly proclaiming the approach of an eclipse, and
the precise time at which it was to take place, taught
hissubjects no longer to consider such a phenomenon as
an omen of disaster, or an awful menace of divme judge¬
ment. He enlarged the commerce of his empire, and
gave every encouragement to trade and manufactures.
He formed canals, repaired the roads, instituted regu¬
lar posts, and laid down regulations for a uniform;ty
of weights and measures. Lastly, he in some mea¬
sure civilized his subjects, though it is evident that he
could not civilize himself.
It is the province of the historian to delineate the
characters of the princes whose transactions he relates.
Various have been the characters given of Peier the
Great, by those who have detailed the events of his
reign. It is certain that to him the Russian empire is
indebted fox much of that splendour with which she now
shines among the powers of Europe. As a monarch,
therefore, he is entitled to our admiration, hut as a pri¬
vate individual we must consider him as anobject of de¬
testation and abhorrence. His tyranny and his cruelty
admit of no excuse; and if we were to suppose that in
sacrificing the heir of his crown he emulated the patri¬
otism of the elder Brutus, we must remember that the
same hand which signed the death warrant of his son,
could, with pleasure, execute the sentence of the law,
or rather of his own caprice, and, in the moments of dis¬
sipation and revelry, could make the axe of justice an
instrument of diabolical vengeance, and of cool brutality.
Peter was succeeded by his consort Catharine, in
whose favour he had, some years before his death, al-
tered the order of succession. As the character of this
princess, and the transactions of her short reign, have
been fully detailed under her life *, we shall here only
notice in the most cursory manner the events that took
place.
From the commencement of her reign, Catherine
conducted herself with thegi'eatestbenignityandgentle-
ness,and tlmssecured the love and veneration of hersub-
jects, which she had acquired during the life of the em¬
peror. She reduced the annual capitation tax; ordered
the numerous gibbets which Peter had erected in various
parts of the country to be cut down, and had the bodies
of those who had fallen victims to his tyranny decently-
interred. She recalled the greater part of those whom
Peter had exiled to Siberia; paid the troops their ar¬
rears ; restored to the Kozaks those privileges and im¬
munities of which they had been deprived during the
late reign; and she continued in office most of the ser¬
vants of Peter, both civil and military. She concluded
Russia.
121
Peter’s na¬
tional ira-
provemefits.
122 ;
Character
of Peter.
An. 1725.
123
Reign of
Catharine I.,
* See Ca¬
therine /,
382
RUSSIA
Russia, a treaty w ith the German emperor, by w hich ft was
stipulated that in case of attack from an enemy, either
party should assist the other with a force of 30,000
men, and should each guarantee the possessions of the
other. In her reign the boundaries of the empire were
extended by the submission of a Georgian prince, and
the voluntary homage of the Kubinskian Tartars. She
died on the 17th of May 1727, having reigned about
two years. She had settled the crown on Peter the
son of the tzarovitch Alexei, who succeeded by the
title of Peter II.
An 1707 Peter was only 12 years of age wdien he succeeded to
124 the imperial throne, and his reign wras short and unin-
Reign of teresting. Pie was guided chiefly by Prince Menzikoff,
I’eter II. whose daughter Catharine had decreed him to marry.
This ambitious man, who, from the mean condition of a
pye-boy, had risen to the first offices of the state, and
had, during the late reign, principally conducted the
administration of the government, was now, however,
drawing tow ards the end of his career. The number of
his enemies had greatly increased, and their attempts to
work bis downfall now succeeded. A young nobleman
of the family of the Dolgorukis, who was one of Peter’s
chief companions, was excited by his relations, and the
other enemies of Menzikoff, to instil into the mind of
the young prince, sentiments hostile to that minister.
In this commission he succeeded so well,that Menzikoff
and his whole family, not excepting the young empress,
were banished to Siberia, and the Dolgorukis took into
their hands the management of affairs. These artful
counsellors, instead of cultivating the naturally good
abilities of Peter, encouraged him to waste his time
and exhaust his strength in hunting, and other athletic
exercises, for which his tender years were by no means
calculated. It is supposed that the debility consequent
on such fatigue increased the natural danger of the
small-pox, with which he was attacked in January
1730, and from which he never recovered.
\r 1730 Notwithstanding the absolute power with which Pe-
125 ter I* and the empress Catharine had settled by will the
Anne succession to the throne, the Russian senate and nobi¬
duchess of ]ity, upon the death of Peter II. ventured to set aside the
Courland order of succession which those sovereigns had establish-
the impe- cc^ ma^e bsue of Peter was now extinct; and the
frai throne, duke of Holstein, son to Peter’s eldest daughter, was by
thedestinationof the late empress entitled to the crown;
but the Russians, for political reasons, filled the throne
with Anne duchess of Courland, second daughter to
Ivan, Peter’s eldest brother; though her eldest sister
the duchess of Mecklenburg was alive. Her reign was
extremely prosperous; and though she accepted the
crow n under limitations that some thought derogatory
to her dignity, yet she broke them all, asserted the pre¬
rogative of her ancestors,aml punished the aspiring Dol-
goruki family, who had imposed upon her limitations,
with a view, as it is said, that they themselves might
govern. She raised her favourite Biren to the duchy of
Courland ; and was obliged to give way to many severe
executions on his account. Few transactions of any im¬
portance took place during the reign of Anne. She
iollowed the example of her great predecessor Peter, by
interfering in the affairs of Poland, where she had suffi¬
cient interest to establish on the throne Augustus III.
This interference had nearly involved her in a war with
.France, and she had already sent a considerable army to
the banks of the Rhine, for the purpose of acting
against that power, when the conclusion of a treaty of
peace rendered them unnecessary. She entered into a
treaty with the shah of Persia, by which she agreed to
give up all title to the territories that had been seized
by Peter I. on the shores of the Caspian, in consi¬
deration of certain privileges to be granted to the Rus¬
sian merchants.
In 1735, a rupture took place between Russia and
Turkey, occasioned partly by the mutual jealousies that
had subsisted betw'een these powers, ever since the trea¬
ty on the Pruth, and partly by the depredations of the
Tartars of the Crimea, then under the dominion of the
Porte. A Russian army entered the Crimea, ravaged
part of the country, and killed a considerable number
of Tartars; but having ventured too far, without a suf¬
ficient supply of provisions, was obliged to retreat, after
sustaining a loss of nearly 10,000 men. This ill success
did not discourage the court of St Petersburgh ; and in
the following year another armament was sent into the
Ukraine, under the command of Marshal Munich, while
another army under Lascy proceeded against Azof.
Both these generals met with considerable success ; the
Tartars were defeated, and the fort of Azof once more
submitted to the Russian arms. A third campaign took
place in 1737- and the Russians were now assisted by a
body of Austrian troops. Munich laid siege to Otcha-
kof, which soon surrendered, while Lascy desolated
the Crimea,
No material advantages were, however, gained on eh
thcr side ; and disputes ai'ose between the Austrian and
Russian generals. At length in 1739, Marshal Munich
having crossed the Bog at the head of a considerable
army, defeated the Turks in a pitched battle near Sta-
vutshan, made himself master of Yassy, the capital of
Moldavia, and before the end of the campaign reduced
the whole of that province under his subjection. These
successes of the Russian arms induced the Porte to pro¬
pose terms of accommodation ; and in the latter end of
1739, a treaty was concluded, by which Russia again
gave up Azof and Moldavia, and to compensate the loss
of above 100,000 men, and vast sums of money, gained
nothing but permission to build a fortress on the Don.
Upon the death of Anne, which took place in 1740, An. 1|0.
Ivan, the son of her niece, the princess of Mecklen- d
burg was, by her will, entitled to the succession ; but Accen
being no more than two years old, Biren was appointed
to be administrator of the empire during his minority, ivan !•
This nomination was disagreeable to the princess of
Mecklenburg and her husband, and unpopular among
the Russians. Count Munich was employed by the
princess of Mecklenburg to arrest Biren, who was
tried, and condemned to die, but was sent into exile to
Siberia.
The administration of the princess Anneof Mecklen-
burg and her husband was upon many accounts disa¬
greeable, not only to the Russians, but to other powers
of Europe ; and notwithstanding a prosperous war they
carried on with the Swedes, the princess Elizabeth,
daughter by Catharine to Peter the Great, formed such
a party that in one night’s time she was declared and
proclaimed empress ot the Russias ; and the princess of
Mecklenburg, her husband, and son, were made pri¬
soners. The fate of this unhappy family was peculiarly
severe. All but Ivan were sent into banishment, to an
island
n u s s i a.
fii s. island at tlie mouth of the Dvina^ in tlie White sea,
✓'•J where the princess Anne died in child bed in 1747.
Ivan’s father survived till 1775, and at last ended his
miserable career in prison. The young emperor Ivan
was for some time shut up in a monastery at Oranien-
burg, when, on attempting to escape, he was removed
to the castle of Schlusselburg, where he was, as will
hereafter be related, cruelly put to death,
in, ll* The chief insti ument in rousing the ambition of Eli-
d ^ zabeth, and procuring her elevation to the throne, was
■jCI Jth0t her physician and favourite Lestoc, who, partly by his
z ’ insinuating address, and partly by the assistance of the
French ambassador, brought over to Elizabeth’s interest
most of the royal guards. By their assistance she made
herself mistress of the imperial palace, and of the per¬
sons of the young emperor and his family, and in a few
hours was established without opposition on the throne
of her father.
During the short regency of Anne of Mecklenburg,
a new wrar had commenced between Russia and Sweden;
and this war was carried on with considerable acrimony
and some success, by Elizabeth. The Russian forces
took possession of Abo, and made themselves masters
of nearly all Finland. But at length in 1743, in con¬
sequence of the negociations that were carrying on re¬
lative to tlie succession of the Swedish crown, a peace
was concluded between the two powers, on the condi¬
tion that Elizabeth should restore the greater part of
Finland.
42, Soon after her accession, Elizabeth determined to
nominate her successor to the imperial throne, and had
Kjj T® fixed her eyes on Charles Peter Ulric, son of the duke
got j of Holstein Gottorp, by Anne, daughter of Peter the
nal rand Great. This prince was accordingly invited into Rus-
lulf sia, persuaded to become a member ofthe Greek church,
and proclaimed grand duke of Russia, and heir of the
empire. The ceremony of his baptism was performed
on the 18th November, 1742, and he received the name
of Peter Feodorovitch. Pie was at this time only four¬
teen years of age ; but before he had attained his six¬
teenth year, his aunt had destined him a consort in the
person of Sophia Augusta Frederica, daughter of Chri¬
stian Augustus prince of Anhalt-zerbst-Dornburg. It
is unnecessary for us here to relate the circumstances
that led to this marriage, and the unhappy consequences
* Ca- that resulted from it during the life of Elizabeth, as
k th they have already been sufficiently detailed*.
Having thus settled the order of succession, Elizabeth
s jn began to take an active part in the politics of Europe.
iei-en The death of Charles VI. emperor of Germany had left
hjrvar, his daughter, Maria Theresa queen of Hungary, at the
mercy of the enterprising king of Prussia, till a formid¬
able party, more from jealousy of that monarch’s mili¬
tary fame than regard to the interests of an injured
princess, wras formed in her behalf. To this confede¬
racy the empress of Russia acceded, and in 1747 sent
a considerable body of troops into Germany, to the as¬
sistance of the empress queen. Tire events of this long
and bloody contest have been fully detailed under the
article Prussia, from N° 18 to 64, and they comprise
the greater part of those transactions in the reign of
Elizabeth that do not particularly regard the internal
policy of the empire. The more private transactions of
the court of St Petersburg, as far as they are connected
with the intrigues of her niece Catherine and the follies
383
Russia,
ISO
ol the grand duke Peter, have also been related in our
life of Catherine II. Elizabeth died on the 5th Ja¬
nuary 1 762, tile victim of disease brought on by intem¬
perance. W ith her character as a private w oman w e
have little business here. Her merits as a sovereign wdll
appear from the following summary drawn by Mr
Tooke.
Elibabeth, as empress, governed but little of herself; Cfh“®r
it being properly her ministers and favourites who die- Zd*
tated her regulations and decrees. Of this number, be¬
sides Bestuchef, w as also Bazumofsky, to whom, it has
been said, the empress was even privately married. At
the beginning of her reign, it is true, she went a few
times to the sitting ofthe senate ; but the matters trans¬
acted there wrere by much too serious for her mind;
and, accordingly, she very soon left off that practice al¬
together, contenting herself by confirming with her sig¬
nature the resolutions of that assembly, and the deter¬
minations of her minister, or the conference, which sup¬
plied the place of the council.
Her character in general was mild, as was evident
from the tears it cost her whenever she received ac¬
counts from Prussia even of victories gained bv her own
army, on account of the human blood by w Inch they
must necessarily have been purchased. Yet even this
delicate sensibility did not restrain her from prosecuting
the war into which she had entered from a species of
revenge, and for the purpose of humbling the king of
Prussia, and even on her death-bed from exhorting the
persons who surrounded her to the most vigorous con¬
tinuation of it. It also proceeded from this sensibility,
that immediately on her accession to the government
she made the vow never to put her signature to a sen¬
tence of death. A resolution which she faithfully kept;
though it cannot be averred to have been for the bene¬
fit ot the empire; since in consequence of it the number
of malefactors who deserved to die Avas every day in¬
creasing, insomuch that even the clergy requested the
empress to retract her vow, at the same time urging
proofs that they could release her from it. All the
arguments they could use, however, were of no a\rail to
move the conscientious monarch ; she would not give
effect to any sentence of death, although the comman¬
ders in the army particularly would have been glad that
her conscience had yielded a little on that point. They
declared that the soldiers were not to be restrained from
their excesses by the severest corporal punishments
they could employ; whereas such was their dread of a
solemn execution, that a few examples of that nature
would have effectually kept them in awe.
Commerce and literature, arts, manufactures, handi- HI
crafts, and the other means of livelihood, which had Her im‘
been fostered by the former sovereigns, continued their fn tjle
course under Elizabeth with increasing prosperity. The pire.
country products were obtained and wrought up in
greater quantities, and several branches of profit Avere
more zealously carried on. The sum appointed for the
support ofthe academy of sciences founded by Peter I.
at St Petersburgh, was considerably augmented by Eli¬
zabeth : and she moreover established in 1758 the aca¬
demy still subsisting for the arts of painting and sculp¬
ture, in which a number of young persons are brought
up as painters, engravers, statuaries, architects, &c. At
Mosco she endowed a university and tAvo gymnasia.
The empress Elizabeth herself having a good voice,
music,
music, •which Anne had already much encouraged, found
under her administration a perpetual accession of dis¬
ciples and admirers ; so that even numbers of persons
of distinction at St Petersburgh became excellent per¬
formers. The art of acting plays was novr also more
general among the Russians. Formerly none but French
or Italian pieces were performed on the stage of St Pe¬
tersburgh, whereas now Sumarokof obtained celebrity,
as a dramatic poet in his native language, and in 17f>6*
Elizabeth laid the foundation of a Russian theatre in
her residence. Architecture likewise found a great ad¬
mirer and p troness in her, St Petersburgh and its vici¬
nity being indebted to her for great embellishments,
and numerous structures.
The magnificence which had prevailed under Anne at
the court of St Petersburgh was not diminished during
her reign, and the court establishment therefore amount¬
ed to extraordinary sums. Elizabeth, indeed, in this
respect did not imitate her great father ; and accord¬
ingly in the seven years war the want of a well-stored
treasury was already very sensibly felt.
The population of the empire was considerably in¬
creased under her reign ; and so early as 1752, accord¬
ing to the statement in an account published by an offi¬
cial person, it was augmented by one-fifth.
Elizabeth continued the practice of her predecessors
in encouraging foreigners to come to settle in her em¬
pire. Emigrant Servians cultivated a cons’derable tract
of land, till then almost entirely uninhabited, on the
borders of Turkey, where they built the town of Eli-
zabethgorod, and multiplied so fast, that in the year
I 764 a particular district was formed of these improve¬
ments, under the name of New Servia. Only the Jew's
Elizabeth was no less 1'esolute not to tolerate than her
father had been • insomuch that, so early in her reign
as 1743, they were ordered to quit the country on pain
of death.
The army was augmented under Elizabeth, but cer-
tainlymot improved. There were now no longer at the
head of it such men as the foreigners, Munich, Keith, or
Loevendal, who, besides their personal coui'age and in¬
trepidity, possessed the soundest principles of the art of
war ; and, what is of no less consequence in a commander,
kept up a strict discipline, and took care that the laws
of subordination were punctually observed. The ex¬
cessive licence which the regiments of guards, particu¬
larly the life company of the Preobajerskoy guards,
presumed to exercise, under the very eyes of the empress
in St Petersburgh, afforded no good example to the rest
of the army ; and Elizabeth, in appointing those sol¬
diers of that life company, who had been most guilty of
flagrant disorders^ and the basest conduct, to be officers
in the marching regiments, gives us no very high idea
of what was required in an officer, but rather serves easi¬
ly to explain whence it arose that such frequent com¬
plaints were made of insubordination. A great number
of excellent regukitions that had been introduced into
the army, and always enforced by foreigners, especially
by Munich, were suffered by the Russian generals to
fall into total disuse. The bad effects of this negli¬
gence were very soon perceived; and it wTas undoubted¬
ly a ci> cumstance highly favourable to the Russian
troops, that ’or several years successively, in the war
which we have had occasion so often to mention, they
had to engage with such a master in the military art as
the king of Prussia, and by their conflicts with him, as Russia,
well as by their connection w'ith the Austrians, and in
the sequel with the Prussian soldiery, they had an op¬
portunity of learning so many things, and of forming
themselves into regular combatants.
Elizabeth tarnished her reign, however, by the insti- She e ta.
tution of a political court of inquisition, under the name Wishes a
of a secret state chancery, empowered to examine into P0Wlcal>
and punish all such charges as related to the expression <1U1Sltl011,
of any kind of displeasure against the measures of go¬
vernment. This, as is usual in such cases, opened a
door to the vilest practices. The low'est and most pro¬
fligate of mankind were now employed as spies and in¬
formers, and were rewarded for their denunciations and * Sce
calumnies against the most virtuous characters, if these 700,1(3
Hist, Pit
happened by a look, a shrug of the shoulders, or a few m
harmless w'ords, to signify their disapprobation of the rol. ii.
proceedings of the sovereign*. p. 330.
The grand duke ascended the throne by the name of An’ 1'f
Peter III. This prince’s conduct has been variously re-
presented. He entered on the government possessed of peter jj
an enthusiastic admiration of the virtues of the king of
1 russia, with w'hom he immediately made peace, and
whose principles and practice he seems to have adopted
as patterns for his imitation. He might have surmount¬
ed the effects even of those peculiarities, unpopular as
they then were in Russia; but it is said that he aimed
at reformations in his dominions, which even Peter the
Great durst not attempt; and that he even ventured
to cut off the beards of his clergy. He was certainly
a weak man, who had no opinions of his own, but chil¬
dishly adopted the sentiments of any person who took
the trouble to teach him. Elis chief amusement was
buffoonery; and he would sit for hours looking with
pleasure at a merry-Andrew singing drunken and vul¬
gar songs. Ele was a stranger to the country, its inha¬
bitants, and their manners; and suffered himself to be
persuaded by those about him, that the Russians were
fools and beasts unworthy of his attention, except to
make them, by means of the Prussian discipline, good
fighting machines. These sentiments regulated his whole
conduct, and prepared the way for that revolution which
improprieties of a different kind tended to hasten.
Becoming attached to one of the Vorontzoff ladies,
sister to the princess Dashkoff, he disgusted his wife, who
was then a lovely woman in the prime of life, of great
natural talents and great acquired accomplishments;
whilst the lady whom he preferred to her was but one
degree above an idiot. The princess Dashkoff, who was
married to a man whose genius was not superior to that
of the emperor, being dome d’honneur and lady ot the
bed-chamber, had of course much of the empress’s com¬
pany. Similarity of situations knit these two illustri¬
ous personages in the closest friendship. The princess
being a zealous admirer of the French ceconornistes, could
make her conversation both amusing and instructive.
She retailed all her statistical knowledge ; and finding
the empress a willing hearer, she spoke of her in every
company as a prodigy of knowledge, judgment, and
philanthropy. Whilst the emperor, by his buffoonery
and attachment to foreign manners, was daily incurring
more and more the odium of his subjects, the populari¬
ty of his wife was rapidly increasing; and some persons
about the court expressed their regret, that so much
knowledge of government, such love of humanity, and
such
13
His in I*
dences
II U S S I A.
• such ardent wishes for the prosperity of Russia, should
^ only furnish conversations with Catharina Romanovna
(the princess Dashkoff). The empress and her favourite
did not let these expressions pass unobserved, they con¬
tinued their studies in concert; and whilst the former
was employed on her famous code of laws, for a great
empire,the latter always reported progress, till the mid¬
dling circles of Mosco and St Petersburgh began to
speak familiarly of the blessings which they might en¬
joy if these speculations could be realized.
Meanwhile Peter III. was giving fresh cause of dis¬
content. He had recalled from Siberia Count Munich,
who was indeed a sensible, brave, and worthy man; but
as he was smarting under the effects of Russian despot¬
ism, and had grounds of resentment against most of the
great families,he did not much discourage the emperor’s
unpopular conduct, but only tried to ntoderate it and
give it a system. Peter, however, was impatient. He
publicly ridiculed the exercise and evolutions of the
Russian troops ; and hastily adopting the Prussian dis¬
cipline, without digesting and fitting it for the constitu¬
tion of his own forces, he completely ruined himself by
disgusting the army.
t0 In the midst of these imprudences, however, Peter
try was sometimes disturbed by the advice of virtuous coun-
■tion sellors. Among these Gudovitch, the vice-chamberlain,
eec^ is said to have reproached him in the follow ing spirited
}* address:
“ Peter Feodorovitch, I now plainly perceive that
you prefer to us the enemies of your fame. You are
irrecoverably subservient to them ; you acknowledge
them to have had good reason for saying that you were
more addicted to low and degrading pleasures, than fit
to govern an empire. Is it thus that you emulate your
vigilant and laborious grandsire, that Peter the Great
whom you have so often sworn to take for your model ?
Is it thus that you persevere in the wise and noble con¬
duct, by which, at your accession to the throne, you me¬
rited the love and the admiration of your people ? But
that love, that admiration, is already forgotten. They
are succeeded by discontent and murmurs. Petersburgh
is anxiously enquiring whether the tzar has ceased to
live within her walls ? The whole empire begins to fear
that it has cherished only vain speculations of receiving
laws that shall revive its vigour and increase its glory.
The malevolent alone are triumphant; and soon will
the intrigues, the cabals, which the first moments of
your reign had reduced to silence, again raise their
heads with redoubled insolence. Shake off then this dis¬
graceful lethargy, my tzar! hasten to shew and to
prove, by some resplendent act of virtue, that you are
worthy of realizing those hopes that have been formed
l and cherished of you.”
ne These remonstrances, however, produced only a tem-
pfir- porary gleam of reformation, and Peter soon relapsed
r into his accustomed sensuality. What he lost in popu¬
larity was soon gained by the emissaries of Catharine.
Four regiments of guards, amounting to 8000 men,
were instantly brought over by the three brothers Or-
loff, who had contrived to ingratiate themselves with
their officers. The people at large weve in a state of
indifference, out of which they were roused by the fol¬
lowing means. A little manuscript was handed about,
containing principles of legislation for Russia, founded
on natural rights, and on the claims of the different
Vol. XVIII. Part I.
classes of people which had insensibly been formed, and Ituwia.
became so familiar as to appear natural. In that per- y-—>
formance was proposed a convention of deputies from
all the classes, and from every part of the empire, to
converse, but without authority, on the subjects of
which it treated, and to inform the senate of the result
of. their deliberations. It passed for the work of her
majesty, and was much admired.
While Catharine was thus high in the public esteem
and affection, the emperor took the alarm at her popu¬
larity, and in a few days came to the resolution of conw
fining her for life, and then of marrying his favourite.
The servants of that favourite betrayed her to her sister,
who imparted the intelligence to the empress. Catha¬
rine saw her danger, and instantly formed her resolu¬
tion. She must either tamely submit to perpetual im¬
prisonment, and perhaps a cruel and ignominious death,
or contrive to hurl her husband from his throne. No
other alternative was left her, and the consequence was
what was undoubtedly expected. Theproper steps were
taken ; folly fell before abilities and address, and irt
three days the revolution was accomplished. 137
When the emperor saw that all was lost, he attempted Peter de~
to enter Cronstadt from Oranienbaum, a town on the throned,
gulf of Finland, SO versts, or nearly 26 miles, from St
Petersburgh. The sentinels at the harbour presented
their muskets at the barge ; and though they were not
loaded, and the men had no cartridges, he drew back.
The English sailors called from ship to ship for some
person to head them, declaring that they would take
him in and defend him; hut he precipitately withdrew.
Munich received him again,and exhorted him to mount
his horse, and head his guards, swearing to live and die
with him. He said, “ No, I see it cannot be done
without shedding much of the blood of my brave Hol-
steiners. I am not worthy of the sacrifice.” It is un¬
necessary for us to he more particular in detailing the
progress of the revolution that placed Catharine on the
throne of Russia, as the principal circumstances attend¬
ing this event are given under the life of Cathehine ;
but as the conclusion of the tragedy h; s been there
omitted, we shall relate it from the most authentic
sources which we have been able to procure. 138
Six days had already elapsed since the revolution, and jT^tj>ut 16
that great event had been apparently terminated with¬
out any violence that might leave odious impressions 011
the mind of the public, Peter had been removed from
Peterhof to a pleasant retreat called Ropscha, about SO
miles from St Petersburgh ; and here he supposed he
should be detained but a short time previous to his being
sent into Germany. He therefore sent a message to
Catharine, desiring permission to have for his attendant
a favourite negro, and that she would send him a dog,
of which he was very fond, together with his violin, a
bible, and a few’ romances, telling her that, disgusted
with the wickedness of mankind, he was resol vedhence-
forth to devote himself to a philosophical life. How¬
ever reasonable the<e requests, not one of them was
granted, and his plans of wisdom were turned into ridi¬
cule.
In the mean time the soldiers were amazed at what
they had done; they could not conceive by what fasci¬
nation they had been hurried so far as to dethrone the
grandson of Peter the Great, in order to give his crown
to a jGerraan woman. The majority, without plan or
f 5 C sentiment
386 It U S
liussia. sentiment 6f what tliey were doing, had been mechani-
ca]ly ]ed on by tlie movements of others; and each indi¬
vidual nov/ reflecting on Ins baseness, after the pleasure
of disposing of a crown iiad vanished, was filled only
with remorse. The sailors, who had never been enga¬
ged in the insurrection, openly reproached the guards
in the tippling houses with having sold their emperor for
beer. Pity, which justifies even the greatest criminals,
pleaded irresistibly in every heart. One night a band
of soldiers attached to the empress took the alarm, from
an idle fear, and exclaimed that their mother was in
danger, and that she must be awaked, that they might
see her. During the next night there was a fresh com-’
motion more serious than the former. So long as the
life of the emperor left a pretext for inquietude, it was
thought that no tranquillity was to be expected.
On the sixth day of the emperor’s imprisonment at
Piopseha, Alexey Orlof, accompanied by an officer na¬
med TeplofF, came to him with the news of his speedy
deliverance, and asked permission to dine with him.
According to the custom of that country, wine glasses
and brandy were brought previous to dinner ; and while
the officer amused the tzar with some trifling discourse,
his chief filled the glasses, and poured a poisonous mix¬
ture into that which he intended for the prince. The
tzar, Avithout any distrust, swallowed the potion, on
which he immediately experienced the mo'-t severe pains;
and on his being offered a second glass, on pretence of
its giving him relief, he refused it, with reproaches
against him that offered it.
He called aloud for milk, but the two monsters of¬
fered him poison again, and pressed him to take it. A
French valet-de-chambre, greatly attached to him,
now ran in. Peter thi'ew himself into his arms, saying
in a faint tone of voice, “ It was not enough then to
prevent me from reigning in Sweden, and to deprive me
of the crown of Russia ! I must also be put to death.”
The valet-de-chambre presumed to intercede for his
master ; but the tAvo miscreants forced this dangerous
witness out of the room, and continued their ill-treat¬
ment of the tzar. In the midst of this tumult the
younger of the princes Barjitinsky came in, and joined
the two former. Orloff Avho had already throAvn down
the emperor, was pressing upon his breast with both his
knees, and firmly griping his throat with his hand. The
unhappy monarch, iioav struggling Avitli that strength
which arises from despair, the tAvo other assassins threw
a napkin round his neck, and put an end to his life by
suffocation.
It is not known Avith certainty what share the em¬
press had in this event; but it is affirmed that on the
A-ery day on which it happened, while the empress was
beginning her dinner Avith much gaiety, an officer (sup¬
posed to be one of the assassins) precipitately entered
the apa- tment Avith his hair dishevelled, his face covered
Avith sweat and dust, his clothes torn, and his counte¬
nance agitated Avith horror and dismay. On entering,
his eyes, sparkling and confused, met those of the em¬
press She arose in silence, and Avent into a closet,
whither he followed her; a few moments afterwards she
S I A.
sent for Count Panin (the former governor of Peter), iiuss
who was already appointed her minister, and she in- W, /
formed h;m that the emperor avus dead, and consulted
him on the manner of announcing his death to the pu¬
blic. Panin advised her to let one night pass over, and
to spread the news next day, as if they had received it
during the night. This counsel being approved, the
empress returned Avith the same countenance, and conti¬
nued her dinner with the same gaiety. On the day
folloAving, when it Avas published that Peter had died of
an hoemorrhoidal colic, she appeared bathed in tears,
and proclaimed her grief by an edict.
The corpse Avas brought to St Petersburgh, there to
be exposed. The face was black, and the neck excori¬
ated. NotAvith tanding these horrible marks, in order
to assuage the commotions which began to excite appre¬
hension, and to prevent impostors from hereafter di¬
sturbing the empire, he Avas left three days, exposed to
all the people, Avith only the ornaments of a Holstein of¬
ficer. His soldiers, disbanded and disarmed, mingled
Avith the crowd; and, as they beheld their sovereign,
their countenances indicated a mixture of compassion,
contempt, and shame. They were soon afterwards em¬
barked for their country; but, as the sequel of their
cruel destiny, almost all of these unfortunate men pe¬
rished in a storm. Some of them had saved themselves
on the rocks adjacent to the coAst; but they again fell
a prey to the Avaves, while the commandant of Cron-
stadt dispatched a messenger to St Petersburgh to knoAv
whether he might he permitted to assist them (n).
Thus fell the unhappy Peter III. in the 34th year of
his age, after having enjoyed the imperial dignity only
six months. Whatever may have been his faults or fol¬
lies, it must be allowed that he suffered dearly for them.
Of the violent nature of his death there can scarcely be
a doubt, though there appear to be grounds for belie¬
ving that, however much Catharine must have wished
for his removal, she did not take an active part in his
death. *
On her accession, Catharine behaved with great mag- Cat “ !
nanimity and forbearance towards those Avho had oppo- ^
sed her elevation, or AVere the declared friends of the de- ft. , tis1
ceased emperor. She gave to Prince George, in ex¬
change for his title of duke of Courland conferred on
him by Peter, the government of Holstein. She rein¬
stated Biren in his dukedom of Courland; received
into favour Marshal Munich, who had readily trans¬
ferred his fidelity from the dead to the living, and even
pardoned her rival, the CountessVorontzoff, and permit¬
ted her to retain the tokens of her lover’s munificence.
She permitted Gudovitch, who, as we have seen, Avas
high in the confidence of Peter, and had incurred her
particular displeasure, to retire to his native country.
Perhaps the most unexpected part of her conduct to¬
wards the friends of Peter, Avas her adhering to the treaty
of peace Avhich that monarch had concluded with the
king of Prussia six months before. The death of his in-
ATeterate enemy Elizabeth had rel eved Frederick from
a load of solicitude, and had extricated him irom his
dangerous situation. He now, as he thought, saw him-
(n) The above account of Peter’s assassination is taken chiefly from M. Rulhiere’s Histoirc on Anecdotes surfo
Raplulion de Russic, Avith some njodifipat ions from Tooke’s Life of Catharine II.
<»c"r
oo(
II U S S I A.
Hu • self again invalvs.l in a war with the same formidable
w ^ power; but to his great joy he found that Catharine,
from motives of policy, declined entering on a war at
the commencement of her reign,
in. 1 In one particular the empress showed her jealousy
1-: gnd her fears. She increased the vigilance with which
L5S3£< - p1? y0Ung prince Ivan was confined in the castle of
eihrol f Schlusselburg, from which Peter III. had expressed a
ar, resolution to release him. Not long after her accession,
this unfortunate prince was assassinated; though whe¬
ther this event was to be imputed to the empress or her
counsellors, cannot be determined. The circumstances
of the assassination are thus related by Mr Tooke, from
documents supplied by a manifesto published by the
court of Petersburgh, and supposed to be written by the
empress herself.
“ A lieutenant, named Mirovitch, thinking himself
neglected as an officer, conceived a plan to revenge him¬
self on the empress Catharine II. by delivering the cap¬
tive Ivan from his dungeon, and replacing him on the
throne: a plan which, besides the extraordinary diffi¬
culties with which it must be attended, seemed unlikely
to succeed, as the manner of life to which that prince
had all along been condemned, disqualified him forever
for the station of a ruler. Yet Mirovitch, capable of
any attempt, however inconsiderate, to which he was
prompted by his vindictive spirit, found means to gain
over a few accomplices to his rash design. I he empress
having gone on a journey into Livonia in 1761, and he
happening to have a command at Schlusselburg, for
strengthening the guard at that fortress, whereby he
hadfrequent opportunities ofmaking him self thoroughly
acquainted with the place of Ivan's confinement, caused
the soldiers of his command to be roused in the night,
and read to them a pretended order from the empress
commissioning him to set the prince at liberty.
“ The soldiers thus taken by surprise, were induced
by threats, pi’omises, and intoxicating liquors, to believe
what, however, on the slightest reflection, must have
struck them as the grossest absurdity. Headed by Mi¬
rovitch, they proceeded to the cell of Ivan. The com¬
mandant of the fortress, waked out of his sleep by the
unexpected alarm, immediately on his appearing, recei¬
ved a blow with the butt end of a musket, which struck
him to the ground ; and the two officers that had the
guard of the prisoner vvere ordered to submit. Here it
is to be observed, that the officers whose turn it was to
have the custody of him, had uniformly, from the time of
Elizabeth, secret orders given them, that if any thing
should be attempted in favour of the prince, rather to
put him to death than suffer him to be carried ofl. They
now thought themselves in that dreadful predicament;
and the prince who, when an infant of nine weeks, was
taken from the calm repose of the cradle to be placed
on an imperial throne, was likewise fast locked in the
arms of sleep when that throne was taken from him only
one year afterwards, and now also enjoying a short re¬
spite from misery by the same kind boon of nature,
when he was awakened—by the thrust of a sword; and,
notwithstanding the brave resistance which lie made,
closed his eyes for ever by the frequent repetition of the
stroke. Such was the lamentable end of this unfortu¬
nate prince ! of this Russian monarch ! The event ex¬
cited great animadversion throughout the residence;
every unbiassed person bewailed the youth so innocently
put to death; and incessant Crowds of people flocked to
see his body in the church of the fortress of Schlussel¬
burg. The government was at length obliged to s'eal
it away by night for inhumation in a monastery at a
considerable distance from town. Mirovitch paid the
forfeit of this enterprise with his head *.
Were we to offer a detailed account of the principal
transactions that took place during the long reign of
Catharine, we should far exceed the limits within which
this article must be confined, and should at the same
time repeat much of what has already been given under
other articles. As the events that distinguished the life
of Catharine, however, are too important to he wholly
omitted, we shall present our readers with the following
chronological sketch of them, referring for a more par¬
ticular account to Mr Tooke’s Life of Catharine II.
and to the articles Catharine II. Britain, France,
Poland, Prussia, Sweden, and Turkey, in this
Ilussia.
* Touter's
Hist, of
Russia, vol.
ii. p. 283.
Ill
Chronolo¬
gical sketch
of the af¬
fairs of Rus¬
sia during
the reign
of Catha¬
rine II.
work.
The year 17^6, presented at St Petersburgh the
grandest spectacle that perhaps was ever seen in Europe.
At an entertainment, which the empress chose to name
a carousal, the principal nobility appeared in the most
sumptuous dresses sparkling with diamonds, and mount¬
ed on horses richly caparisoned, in a magnificent theatre
erected for that purpose. Here all that has been read
of the ancient jousts and tournaments was realized and
exceeded in the presence of thousands of spectators, who
seemed to vie with each other in the brilliancy of their
appearance.
In 3 768, the empress composed instructions for a new An, 1768.
code of laws for her dominions ; and the same year she ^5-
submitted to the danger of inoculation, in order that ;i*
her subjects, to whom the practice was unknown, might coje 0f
be benefited by her example ; and the experiment, un- laws-
der Baron Dimsdale, having happily succeeded, it was
commemorated by an annual thanksgiving. 14.3
In the same year a war broke out with the Ottoman War with
Porte. The various events of this long and important the Tmksv
conflict, which continued for seven years, must here be
only briefly enumerated, as they will hereafter be more
particularly noticed under the article Turkey. In this
war, our countryman Greig, then an admiral in the Rus¬
sian service, highly distinguished himself by his conduct
in a naval engagement with the Turks, in the harbour oi
Tschesme in the Archipelago, in which the Turkish fleet
was entirely defeated, and their magazines destroyed.
This took place on the 4th of November 1772.
In the beginning of the year 1769, the khan of the Kri- Au. 1769-
mea made an attack on the territory of Bachmut on the ^
river Bog, where he was several times bravely repulsed, jJ^ondu,
witli his army of Tartars andTurks,by Major-general Ro- sion of tha
manius and Prince Prosorofskoi. At the same time were war with
fought the battlesof Zekanofca andSorocaun theDniepr, t uvkcy,
when the large magazines of the enemy were burned. In
February the Polish Kozaks in the voyvoileship of Brac-
lauput themselves under tlie Russian sceptre. Inthesame
month the Nisovian Saparogian Kozaks gained a battle
in the deserts of Krim. In March the Polish rebels were
subdued, and their town taken by Major-general Lma-
ilof. April 2. the fort pf Taganrock, on the sea of\‘\z-
of, was taken. On the 15th the Russian army, under
the general in chief Prince Galitzin, crossed the Dniestr.
On the 19th a victory was gained by Prince Galitzin
near Chotzirn. On the 21st the Turks were defeated
3 C 2 not
388 II U S
Kussia. not for from Chotzim by Lieutenant-general Count Sol-
tikof. The 29th, an action was fought between the
Russian Kalmucks and the Kuban Tartars, to the disad¬
vantage of the latter. June 8th, the Turks were de¬
feated at the mouth of the Dniepr near Otchakof.
19th, An action took place on the Dniestr, when the
troops of Prince Prosorofskoi forced the Turks to repass
the river in great disorder. Chotzim was taken Sep¬
tember }9th. Yassy, in Moldavia, was taken 2.7th
September. Bucharest, in Vallachia, was taken, and
the hospodar made prisoner, in November 1770. A vic¬
tory was gained by the Russians under Generals Podho-
rilshany and Potemkin, near Fokshany. The town of
Shursha was taken by Lieutenant-general Von Stotfeln,
Feb. 4. A Russian fleet appeared in the port of Maina
in the Morea, Feb. 17. Mistra, the Lacedaemon of
the ancients, and several other towns of the Morea,
were taken in February. Arcadim in Greece surren¬
dered, and a multitude of Turks were made prisoners,
in the same month. The Turks and Tartars were dri¬
ven from their entrenchments near the Pruth, by Count
Romantzof, Prince Repnin, and General Bauer, 11 th—
16th June. Prince Prosorofskoi gained several advan¬
tages near Otchakof, June 18. The Russian fleet, un¬
der Count Alexey Orlof, gained a complete victory
over the Turks near Tscheme, June 24th; the conse¬
quence of this victory was the destruction of the whole
Turkish fleet, near Tscheme, where it was burned by
Admiral Greig, June 26. A battle was fought on the
Kagul, in which Count Romantzof defeated the Turk¬
ish army, consisting of 150,000 men, took their camp,
and all the artillery, July 21. The fortress Bender was
taken July 22. The town of Ismail was taken by
Prince Repnin, July 26. Kilia by Prince Repnin, Au¬
gust 21. and Ackerman in October. Brailof was ta¬
ken, November 10. 1771. The fortress of Shursha by
General Olitz, on February 23. ; the town of Kafta by
Prince Dolgoruckof, June 29. ; the fort of Kertchi,
July 2. ; the fort of Yenicali, July 3. ; and numberless
other victories were obtained by sea and land, till the
peace was concluded the 13th January 1775. By this
the Krimea w'as declared independent of the Porte, all
the vast tract of country between the Bog and Dniepr
was ceded to Russia, besides the Kuban and ihe isle of
Taman, with free navigation in all the Turkish seas, in¬
cluding the passage of the Dardanelles, privileges grant¬
ed to the most favoured nations, and stipulations in be¬
half of the inhabitants of Moldavia and Vallachia.
An. 1779. In 1779, the empress intending to divide the empire
115 into viceroyalties, began in January with the viceroyalty
Division of 0f Orlof. March 21. a new treaty was signed at Con-
into^vice.6 stantinople between Russia and the Porte. May 13. the
loyalties, treaty of peace between the belligerent powers in Ger¬
many, and the French king, was signed under the medi¬
ation ot her majesty. In June she established an hospi¬
tal lor invalids at Mosco, to be confined to officers. In
July, General Bauer received orders to cause a canal to
be cut to supply ,V>osco with wholesome water. In Oc¬
tober, a ship built at Taganrock, named the Prince
Constantine, sailed to Smyrna with Russian commodities.
December, 3.. the viceroyalty of Voronetsh was institu-
S I A.
ted ; and the 27th, Count Romantzof Zadunaiski open- Kiissia.»
ed the viceroyalty of Kursk with great solemnity.
In 1780, February 28. appeared the memorable de-An. ircol
claration of her imperial majesty, relating to the safety 146
of navigation and commerce of the neutral powers,
May 9. the empress set out on a journey to White Rusr- many
sia from Zarscoi Selo, visited Narva, Plescof, met the Russia, Is
emperor of Germany under the title of Count Falken- p
stein at Mohilef, and they pursued the journey together ^
to Smolensk. June 6. Count Falkenstein arrived at
Mosco. The 17th, the empress returned to Zarscoi Se¬
lo, and the count Falkenstein arrived at St Petersburgh.
July 8. the emperor returned to Vienna.
In 1731, March 1. the empress became mediatrix An. I78]j
between England and Holland. April 5. instituted the W
first public school in St Petersburgh, August 27. the
grand dukes, Alexander and Constantine, were inocu-
lated by Baron Dimsdale. August 31. the first stone in St Pe-
of a cathedral was laid at Cherson, dedicated to St Ca-tersburgl
therine. September 19. the grand duke, Paul Petro-
vitch, and his consort, Maria Feodorovna, departed
from Zarscoi Selo, through Plescof, Mohilef, ana Kief,
on a journey into foreign countries, under the title of
Count and Countess of the North.
In 1782, by a command of her majesty, dated Ja- An. lTS
nuary 18. a Roman Catholic Archbishop was installed in ^ 148
the city of Mohilef, with authority over all the Catho-
lie churches and convents in the Russian empire. Au-Gieatfi.
gust 7. the famous equestrian statue of Peter the Great, nishd,
being finished, was uncovered to the public in presence
of the empress, on which occasion she published a pro¬
clamation containing pardons for several criminals,
&c. (g). November 22. the order of St Vladimir was
instituted. The 27th, the empress published a new ta- i»
riff. November 20. the grand duke and his duchess, B(
having completed their travels through Germany, Italy,
France, Holland, the Netherlands, &c. returned to St
Petersburgh.
In 1783, May 7. the empress instituted a seminary An. 175
for the education of young persons of quality at Kursk,
June 21. a treaty of commerce concluded with the Otto-
man Porte. July, the institution of the other viceroyal- ^ rus
ties of the empire to.lowed in succession. July 21. the empire,
empress published a manifesto by her commander in
chiet Prince Potemkin, in the Krim, in regard to the
taking possession of that peninsula, the Kuban, and the *
island of Taman. The 24th, a treaty was concluded 1
with Heraclius II. tzar of Kartalinia and Kachetti, by
which he submitted himself, his heirs and successors for
ever, with his territories and dominions, to the sceptre
of her majesty, her heirs and successors. The 29th ac¬
count was received from the camp of Prince Potemkin
at Karas-Basar, that the clergy, the beys, and other
persons of distinction, with the towns of Karas-Basar,
Bachtshiserai, Achmetchet, Kaffa, Kosloff, with the di¬
stricts of Turkanskoikut and Neubasar, and that of Pe-
rekop, in the peninsula of the Krim, together with the
hordes of Edissank and Dshambolusk, the sultan Alim
Girey, and his vassals, with all theBudshaks and Bash¬
kirs there, and all the tribes dwelling beyond the river
Kuban, the sultan Boatur Girey and his vassals, took
(g) For a description of this extraordinary statue, see Petersburgh,
R U S S I A.
SS9
j
V.
sia.
iO
Jm 'ial a-
fid iy of
St ters-
bui o-
pei ..
Ai 1784.
51
Ge ria
an ied to
thi ussian
en -e.
A 178.5.
i52
8 ral
P' incial
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tf shed.
the oath of allegiance to her imperial majesty, and with
willing hearts submitted for ever to her glorious sway.
The 30th, the hospodar of Vallachia was deposed, and
Draco Sutzo set up in his place. September 22. her
majesty raised Gabriel, archbishop of Novgorod and St
Petersburgh, to the dignity of metropolitan. Octo¬
ber 21. in the great hall of the Academy of Sciences,
the newT institution of thelmperial Russian academy was
opened, after a most solemn consecration by the metro-
politan Gabriel, and others of the clergy, under the pre¬
sidency of the princess DashkofF. November 7- the em¬
press became mediatrix for accommodating the differ¬
ences between the king of Prussia and the city of Dant-
zic. The school for surgery was opened at St Peters¬
burgh on the 18th. December 13. a school commission
was instituted for superintending all the public schools.
The 28th, an act was concluded with the Ottoman
Porte, by which the possession and sovereignty of the
Krim, the Kuban, &c. were solemnly made over to the
empress.
178 4. January 1. the senate most humbly thanked
her majesty for the benefactions which she bad graci¬
ously bestowed on the whole empire in the preceding
year, in a speech by Field-marshal Count Razomof?koi.
The 18th, the Roman Catholic archbishop of Mohilef,
Stanislaus Tshesrentshevitch of Bogush, constituted by
her majesty, was, with a variety of church ceremonies,
solemnly invested, in the Roman Catholic church at St
Petersburgh, with the pallium from his holiness the
pope, by the papal ambassador Count Archetti, arch¬
bishop of Chalcedon. October 14. the Lesgiers, h iv¬
ing crossed the river Alasan,and invaded the dominions
of Georgia, were repulsed with great loss by a detach¬
ment of Russian troops. December 29* Katolikos Mak¬
sim, the serdarand court-marshal Prince Zeretelli, and
the chief justice Kuinichese, ambassadors from David,
tzar of Imeretia, were admitted to a public audience of
her majesty, at which they submitted, in the name of
the tzar, him, and his subjects, to the will and power,
ful protection of her imperial majesty, as the rightful
head of all the sons of the orthodox eastern church,
and sovereign ruler and defender of the Georgian na¬
tions.
1785. January 1. the senate in the name of the
empire, humbly thanked her majesty for the benefits
she had bestowed upon it during the preceding year.
The 8th and 1 5th, the empress in person, held a public
examination of the young ladies educated in the Devitza
Monastery. The 12th, Mauro Cordato, hospodar of
Vallachia, was deposed; and Alexander Mauro Corda¬
to, his uncle, restored to that dignity. The 21st, the
empress visited the principal national school, and passed
a long time in examining the classes, and the proficiency
of the youth in that seminary ; on which occasion a
marble tablet was fixed in the wall of the fourth class,
with this inscription, in gold letters : Thou visitest
THE VINEYARD WHICH THY OWN HAND HATH PLANT¬
ED, Jan. 21. 1785. April 21. the privileges of the
nobility were confirmed; and, on the same day, the
burghers of towns constituted into bodies corporate, by
a particular manifesto. The public school inVoronetsk
was opened. The 24th of May, her majesty went to
inspect the famous sluices at Vishney Volotshok, and
other water communications, and from thence proceed¬
ed ty Mosco. June 19- her majesty returned to St Pe-
tersburgh. July 3. she visited the hardware manufaeto- Husskj.
ries at Sisterbeck, in Finland. 14th, A manifesto was v—■ r~mm*
issued, granting full liberty of religion and commerce,
to all foreigners settling in the regions of Mount Cau- .
casus, under the Russian government. September 1.5.
the public school at Nishney Novgorod was opened.
October 12. the Jesuits in White Russia, in a general
assembly, elected a vicar general of their order. No¬
vember 1. a treaty of commerce was concluded with the
emperor of Germany. The 24th, the Russian consul,
in Alexandria, made his public entry on horseback (an
honour never before granted to any power) ; erected
the imperial standard on his house, with discharge of
cannon, &c. December 28. a Russian mercantile fri¬
gate, fully freighted, arrived at Leghorn from Constan¬
tinople.
1786’. January 1. the senate returned thanks for the An. 1786,
benefits conferred on the empire. From the 11th to
the l6th the new election of persons to the offices in the
Petersburgh government, ending with masquerade and
illuminations, took place. The 29th, the empress con¬
firmed the plan of a navigation school. February 12. by
a decree, the usual slavish subscriptions to petitions were
to be discontinued ; and, instead oi them,only the words
humble or faithful subject ; and, in certain cases, only
subject were ordained to be used. March 2d, the em- The roads
press granted the university of Mosco 125,000 rubles, repaired at
and all the materials of the palace Kremlin for increa- tl*e exPenee
sing its buildings. The 25th, a decree was passed for
making and repairing the roads throughout the whole
empire at the sole expence of the crown, and 4,000,000
of rubles were immediately allotted tor the road be¬
tween St Petersburgh and Mosco. April 10th, a new
war e-t blishment for the army was signed; 23d, the
ho^podar of Vallachia was deposed, and Mavroyeni set
up in his place June 28th, the empress instituted a Aloanbtnk
loan bank at St Petersburgh, to the fund whereof she al- established,
lotted 22,000,000 to be advanced to the nobility, and
11,000,000 to the burghers of the town, on very advan¬
tageous terms. August 5th, there were published rules
to be observed in the public schools. October 4th, a
large Russian ship, with Russian productions from St
Petersburuh, arrived at Cadiz. November 24th, the
empress erected public schools at Tambof. Dt cember
14th, Prince Ypsilanti was appointed hospodar ot Mol¬
davia in the room of the deposed Mauro Cordato. De¬
cember 31st, a treaty of commerce and navigation was
concluded between Russia and France.
1787. January 7. the empress departed from Zar- ^.17^7.
skoi Selo on a journey to her southern dominions ; 29th, pro<rressof
after having visited thetowns of Veleki-Luki,Smolensk, Catharine
Sterodub, Novgorod Severskoi, Beresua, T hernLof, through
&c. leaving testimonies of her clemency and bounty in part ot the
each, arrived at Kief. February 6-7th, the deposed hos- cllnPirt''
podar of Moldavia, Mauro Cordato, thinking his life
not safe in Yassi, found an opportunity privately to
escape. March,public schools were endowed and open¬
ed at Rostof, Uglitsh, Molaga, and Romanofinthe vice¬
royalty of Yaroslavl ; al o at listing and Ai asovitz in
the viceroyalty of Vologda. Api’il 21st, a manifesto
was issued for promoting peace and concord among the
burghers of the empire. The 22d, her majesty pursued
her journey from Kief, to the Dniepr. The 25th, the
concerted interview between her and the king of Po¬
land, near the Polish town of Konief, took place. The
30th,
390 H U S
Jiussia. Soth, the empress visited Krementshuk in the vicerojr-
alty of Katarinoslauf. The treaty of commerce with
England being expired, the Briiish factory were inform¬
ed that they must henceforward pay theduties on imports
in silver money, like the other nations who had no com¬
mercial treaty. May 7th, the empress hearing that the
emperor of Germany was at Cherson, proceeded thi¬
ther, and met him there on the 12th. The 17th, she
prosecuted her journey to the Krim. June 2d, the em¬
peror, after travelling withher majesty through the Krim,
took leave of her at Borislauff, in the viceroyalty of
Katarinoslauf, on his way home. 23d, The empress
-having returned from the Krim, through Kremenfskuk,
Pultava, Karsk, Orel, and Tula, arrived at the village
of Kolomensk, seven versts from Mosco. June 28th,
the 25th anniversary of her reign, she displayed various
marks of her bounty. The debtors to the crown were
forgiven, prisoners released, imposts taken off’, soldiers
rewarded, &c. July 4th, returned over Tver, Tula,
Valdai, Vishnei-Volotshok, and Novgorod, to Zarskoi-
Selo, where she arrived the 11th. The 12th, the new
built school at Riga, called Lyceum, was solemnly de-
156 cheated. August 5th, BulgakofF, the Russian ambassa-
dor, at the Ottoman Porte, was imprisoned in the Seven
v°ith Tur- Towers, contrary to the law of nations, which the em-
iey. press regarded as a public declaration of war. 21st, The
Turkish fleet at Otchakof, attacked the Russian frigate
Skorui, and the sloop Bitingi, but was repulsed and put
to flight by the bravery of the latter. Many signal ad¬
vantages were gained over the Turks ; several public
schools founded in various parts of the empire between
this and August following; during which time the war
broke out with Sweden.
\n. 1788. 1788. August 12th, in the expedition beyond the
157 Kuban, the Russian troops entirely routed a company
War with of 4000 Arutayans and Alcasinians ; 800 of the enemy
Sweden. were slain, and five villages destroyed. 15th, The
surrender of the Turkish fortress of Dubitsha took
place. 18th, The Turks made a violent sortie from Ot¬
chakof, but were repulsed by the Russian yagers; and,
after a battle of four hour?, were driven back with the
loss ol 500 men. 23d, A fierce battle was fought be¬
tween the Russian troops and Sacubsnians, in which the
latter lost 1000 men. The Russian fleet kept the
Swedish blocked up in Sveaborg, ever since the battle
ot July btb. The Swedish army left the Russian ter¬
ritory in Finland. September 18th, the town and for¬
tress ofChotzim surrendered to the Russians, with the
garrison of 2000 men, 153 cannon, 14 mortars, and
much ammunition. 19th—Sgth, A small Russian squa¬
dron fr om the fleet at Sevastophol, cruising along the
coast of Anatolia, destroyed many of the enemy’s ves¬
sels, prevented the transporting of the Turkish troops,
and returned with great booty. 20th, Ussenier Shama-
nachin, chief of the Bsheduchovians, was on his peti¬
tion, admitted a subject of Russia. 26th, A numerous
host of Kubanians and Turks were beaten on the river
Ubin, -w’ith the lojss of 1500 men. November 7th}
Prince Potemkin, at the head of his Kozaks, took the
island Beresan, with many prisoners and much ammu¬
nition. December 6th, the town and fortress of Ot¬
chakof were taken by Prince Potemkin Tavritsheskoi;
9510 of the enemy were killed, 4000 taken prisoners,
-I SO standards, 310 cannons and mortars. The whole
of the-inhabitants were taken prisoners, amounting to
S I A.
25,000 ; the Russians lost 956 killed and 1824 wound- nussiJ
ed. December l9tb. General Kamenskoy gained con- -7-".
siderable advantages over the Turks near Gangur.
1789. April 16th, Colonel Rimskoy KorsgkofF was ^n.
surrounded by the Turks, who were beaten, with great 158
slaughter, by Lieutenant-General Von Derfelden. 17th Numeroi
—28th, Some Russian cruisers from Sevastopal effect- vlttories
ed a landing on Cape Karakarman, burnt six mosques,
and carried oft’great booty. 20th, General Derfelden Swedes?
drove the Turks from Galatch, gained a complete vic¬
tory, killed 2000, took 1500 prisoners, with the se-
raskier Ibrahim Pasha, and the whole camp. Several
skirmishes took place between the Russians andSwedes
in Finland, always to the advantage of the former.
May 31st, another victory was gained over the Swedes.
June 5th, Sulkof was taken from the Swedes, and Fort
St Michael on the 8th. July 15th, Admiral Tchitcha-
goff engaged the Swedish fleet under the command of
the duke of Sudermania; but no ship was lost on either
side. 21st, A battle was fought at Fokshany to the
great loss of the Turks, and Fokshany was taken. Au¬
gust 13th, the Russian galley fleet fought the Swedish
under Count Ehrenschwerdt, the former took a frigate
and five other ships, and 2000 prisoners. August 21st,
another sea fight took place, and Prince Nassau Sie-
gen made goedhis landing of the Russian troops in sight
of the king of Sweden at the head of his army. Sep¬
tember 7th, Prince Repnin attacked the seraskier Has-
san Pasha near the river Seltska, and took his whole
camp. 11th, Count Suvaroff and prince of Saxe Co-
bourg engaged near the river Kymnik the grand Turk¬
ish army of nearly 100,000 men, and gained a com¬
plete victory; from which Count SuvarofF received the
surname Kymnikskoi. 14th, The Russian troops under
General Ribbas, took the Turkish citadel Choclshabey,
in the sight of the whole of the enemy’s fleet. 30th,
The fortress Palanka being taken, the town of Belgorod
or Akermann surrendered to Prince Potemkin Tavritsh-
eskoi. November 4th, the town and castle of Bender
submitted at discretion to the same commander.
1790, April 24. General Numsen gained a victory A]) ,7
over the Swedes near Memel. May 2d, a sea fight 159
took place off Reval, in which the Russians took the Peace w
Prince Charles of 64 guns from the Swedes; and in Swc(leu
this engagement these two gallant English officers,
Captains Trevennin and Dennison, were killed. 23d,
the fleet under Vice-admiral Cruse engaged the Swed¬
ish fleet near the island Siskar in the gulf of Finland,
without any advantage being gained on either side,
though they fought the whole day. 24tb, an action
was fought at Savataipala, when the Swedes were for¬
ced to fly. June 6. the Swedes were defeated by Ma¬
jor Buxhovden, on the island Uransari. June 22. the
whole Swedish fleet, commanded by the duke of Su¬
dermania, was entirely defeated by Admiral Tchishagoff
and the prince of Nassau Siegen ; on this occasion 5000
prisoners were taken, amongst whom were the centre
admiral and 200 officers. 28. General Denisoff defeated
the Swedes near Davidoff. July 9- Admiral Ushakoff
obtained a victory over the Turkish fleet commanded
by the capudan pasha, at the mouth of the straits of Ye-
itikali. August 3. peace was concluded with Sweden,
without the mediation of any other power. August 28,
29. an engagement took place on the Fuxine, not far
fiom Chotlshabey, between the Russian admiral Usha¬
koff
J{ u s
ussia. koflTand tliC capud in pasha, when the principal Turkish
v Y'w' ship, of 80 guns, was burnt, one of 70 guns, and three
taken, the admiral Said Bey being made prisoner, and
another ship sunk ; the rest made off. September 30. a
gr/at victory was obtained over the Turks by General
Germann, with much slaughter, and the seraskier Batal
Bey, and the whole camp, were tnken. October 3 8.
Kilia surrendered to Major Bibbas November 6, 7.
the fortress Cultsha and the Turkish flotilla were taken.
December 11. the important fortress of Ismail, after
a storming for seven hours without intermission, surren¬
dered to Count Suvaroff, with the garrison of 42,000
men ; 30,816 were slain on the spot, 2000 died of their
wounds, 9000 were taken prisoners, with 965 pieces of
cannon, an incredible store of ammunition, &c. The
Russians lost only 1815 killed, and 2450 wounded.
a|n91. 17.01, March 25—31. the campaign opened by the
I®0 troops under Prince Potemkin, not far from Brailof,
Intedly5 W^n ^1e Turks were defeated in several battles, in
ilted/ "hkh they lost upwards of 4000 men. June 5. the
troops under General Golenitshef Kutusoff, near Tult-
sha, drove the Turks beyond the Danube, and at Ba-
bada entirely routed a body of 15,000 men, of whom
1500 were left dead upon the field. 22. The fortress
Anapuas was taken by storm, when the whole garrison,
consisting of 25,000 men, were put to the sword, ex¬
cepting 1000 who were taken prisoners. 28. The
troop= under Prince Repnin attacked the Turkish army,
consisting of nearly 80,000 men, commanded by the
grand vizir Yussuf Pasha, eight pashas, two Tartar sul¬
tans, and two beys of Anatolia; and after a bloody
battle of six hours, entirely routed them : 5000 Turks
were killed in their flight. June 28. Sudskuk Kale
161 tvas taken. July 31. Admiral Ushakoff bfeat the Turkish
I obliged fleet on the coasts of Rumelia. Prince Repnin and
lrke Yussuf Pasha signed the preliminaries of peace between
the Russian empire and theOttoman Porte, by which the
Dniestr was made the boundary of the two empires,
with the cession of the countries lying between the
Bog and the Dniestr to Russia. August 15, ifi. at
Pilnitz near Dresden, a congress was held by the em¬
peror of Germany, the king of Prussia, the elector of
Saxony, the count d’Artois, &c. &c. One of the most
important events in this year was the death of Prince
Potemkin at Yassy in Moldavia on the 15th October.
1 1792, 1792. Early in this year BulgakolF, the Russian mi-
I ni'ter at Warsaw, declared war against Poland; and the
i otr Polish patriots raised an army in which Thaddeus Kos-
Ijl, ciusko (or according to some Koschiefsky) soon bore
a conspicuous part.
In 1788, the diet of Poland had abrogated the con¬
stitution which the empress of Russia had, in 1775,.
compelled that nation to adopt, and had formed an alli¬
ance with the king of Prussia, by way of defence
against thefurther encroachments of the Russian despot.
Three years after, viz. on the third of May 1791, the
new constitution which was intended further to destroy
the ambitious hopes of Catharine, was decreed at War¬
saw. See Poland, N° 125. These were affronts
which the Russian empress could not forgive, and in one
of the conciliabula, in which the ministers of state, and
the favourite for the time Being, sat to regulate the af¬
fairs of the north of Europe, and to determine the fate
of the surrounding nations, the annihilation of the Po¬
lish monarchy was resglvecl on.
S I A. S91
Tiie declaration of war above mentioned was de- 1!ussia.
nounced by Bulgakoff at an assembly of the diet. See
Poland, N° 148. That bpdy received the declara¬
tion with a majestic calmness, and resolved to take
measures for the defence of the nation. The generous
enthusiasm of liberty soon spread throughout the repub¬
lic, and even the king pretended to share in the gene al
indignation. An army was hastily collected, and the
command of it bestowed on Prince Joseph Poniatofsky,
a general who e inexperience and frivolous pursuits
were but ill adapted to so important a charge.
In the mean time several Russian armies were pre¬
paring to overwhelm the small and disunited forces of
the Poles. A body of 80,000 Russians extended itself
along the Bog; another of 3 0 000 was collected in the
environs of Kief, and a third of 30,000 penetrated into
Lithuania. While these armies were carrying murder
and desolation through the Polish territories, Catharine'
was employing all her aits to induce the neighbouring
powers to join in the partition of Poland, and in this she
was but too successful. A Peaty was accordingly con¬
cluded between the empress and the king of Prussia, by
which either appropriated to itself a certain share of the-
remains of Poland. Stanislaus Augustus, the powerless-
head of that republic, was prevailed on to make a pub¬
lic declaration, that there was a necessity for yielding
to the superiority of the Russian arms.
3 793. On the 9th of April the Polish confederation An, D-Oj,
of the partizans of Russia assembled at Grodno ; and on
this occasion the Russian general placed himself under
the canopy of that throne which he was about to de¬
clare for ever vacant, and the Russian minister Sievers,
produced a manifesto, declaring the intention of his
mistress to incorporate with her domains all the Polish
territory which her arms had conquered.
The Russian soldiers dispersed through the provinces,
committed depredations and ravages of which history
furnishes but few examples. Warsaw became especially
the theatre of their excesses. Their general Igelstrom,
who governed in that city, connived at the disorders of
the soldiers, and made the wretched inhabitants feel the
whole weight of his arrogance and barbarity. The pa¬
triots of Poland had been obliged to disperse; their pro¬
perty was confiscated, and their families reduced to ser¬
vitude. Goaded by so many calamities, they once
more took the resolution to free their country from the
oppression of the Russians, or perish in the attempt.
Some of them assembled, and sent an invitation to Kos¬
ciusko, to come and lead them on against the invaders
of their freedom.
Kosciusko had retired to Leipsic with Kolontay, Za-
gonchek, and Ignatius Pottocky, all eminent lor partrio-
tism and military ardour. These four Poles hesitated
not a moment in giving their approbation to the resec¬
tion adopted by their indignant countrymen ; but they
were sensible that, in order to succeed, they must begin
by emancipating the peasants from the state of servitude
under which they then groaned. Kosciusko and Zagon-
chek repaired with all expedition to the frontiers of Po¬
land, and the latter proceeded to Warsaw, where he
held conferences with the chief of the conspirators, and
particularly with several officers who declared their de¬
testation of the Russian yoke. All appeared ripe for a
general insurrection, and the Russian commanders, whose
suspicious had been excited by the appearance of Kos¬
ciusko
392 li U S
Itussia. ciu^ko on the fiontltrs, obliged that leader and his con-
^ federates to postpone for a time the execution of their
plan. To deceive the Russians, Kosciusko retired into
Italy, and Zajronchek repaired to Dresden, whither Ig¬
natius Potoski and Kolontay had gone before him.
On a sudden, however, Zagonchek appeared again at
Warsaw, but was impeached by the king to General
Igelstrom, and, in a conference with the genera', was
ordered to quit the Polish territory. He must now have
abandoned his enterprise altogether, or immediately
proceeded to open insurrection. He chose the latter.
An. 1794. 1794. Kosciusko was recalled from Italy, and ar-
1C3 rived at Cracow, where tire Poles received h;m as their
Attempts of deliverer. Here he was joined by some other officers,
toV) rose 5 anc^ f0°h the command of his little army, consisting of
the Fn- about 3000 infantry, and 1200 cavalry. On the 24th
eroach- of March was published the manifesto of the patriots, in
ments of which they declared the motives for their insurrection,
itussia. ancj ca]ie(j on their countrymen to unite in the glorious
attempt to free the republic from a foreign yoke. Kos¬
ciusko was soon joined by 300 peasants armed with
scythes, and some other small reinforcements gradually
came in. A body of 7000 Russians had collected to op¬
pose the movements of this little army, and a battle
took place, in which the patriots were successful.
While the insurrection had thus auspiciously com¬
menced 0:1 the 'r< ntiers, the confederate? of the capital
were nearly crushed by the exertions of the Russian ge¬
neral. Heading at Warsaw of the success o' Kosciusko,
Igdstrom caused all those whom he suspecud to have
any concern in the insurrection, to be arrested ; but
there measun s served only to irritate the conspirators.
On the Dth of pril th y openly avowed their confe¬
deracy with the patriots of he frontiers, and pioceeded
in great numbers to ..t ace the Russian garrison. I wo
thousand Russians wrere put to the sword, end the gene¬
ral being be- eged in his house, proposed a capitulation;
but pr< filing by the deiay that h..d been granted him,
he escaped to the Prussian camp, which Jay at a little
distance from Warsaw.
Wilna, the capital of Lithuania, followed the example
of Warsaw, but the triumph of the insurgents was there
less territ le, as Colonel Yasinsky, who headed the pa¬
triots, conducted himself with so much skill, that he
made all the Russians prisoners without bloodshed. The
inhabitants of the cantons of t helm and Lublin, also
declared themsdves in a state of insurrection, and-three
Polish regiments who were employed in the service of
Russia, espoused the cause of their country. Some of the
principal partizans of Russia were arrested, and senten¬
ced to be hanged.
Kosciusko exerted himself to the utmost to augment
]iis army, fie procured recruits among the peasants,
and to inspire them with the more emulation, he adopt¬
ed their dress, ate with them, and distributed rewards
among such as appeared most to merit encouragement.
All his attempts to inspire the lower orders of the Poles
with the ardour of patriotism were, however, unavail¬
ing. A mutual distrust prevailed beiween the nobles
and the peasants, and this was fomented by the arts of
Stanislaus and the other partizans of Russia.
The empress bad sent into Poland two of her best ge¬
nerals, Suviiroff and Fersen. For some time Kosciusko
succeeded in preventing 'he junction of these generals.
S I A.
and several engagements took place between the Rus- Itussia.
sians and partriots, in which the former were generally U—y—j
succe-sful. At length, on the 4th of Octobef the fate
of Poland was decided by a sanguinary conflict between
Kosciusko and Fersen, at Made) ovitch, a small town
of Little Poland, about 60 miles from Warsaw. The
talents, the valour, and desperation of Kosciusko, could
not prevent the Poles from yielding to superior numbers.
Almost the whole of his army was either cut in pieces,
or compelled to surrender at dberetion, and the hero
himself, covered with wounds, fell senseless on the field
of battle, and was made prisoner.
The small number that escaped fled to Warsaw, and Finaldis*
shut themselves up in the suburb of Praga. Hither member-
they were pursued by Suvaroff, who immediately laid meat of
siege to the suburb, and prepared to carry it by storm. ^o an^'
On the 2d of November, the brutal Suvaroff gave the
assault, and having made himself master of the place, put
to the swoi d both the soldiers and the peaceable inhabi¬
tants, without distinction of age or sex. It is cemputed
that 20,000 persons fell victims to the savage ferocity
of the Russian general; and, covered with the blood of
the slaughtered inhabitants, the barbarian entered War¬
saw in triumph.
Thus terminated the feeble resistance of the Polish
pati iots. The partition of the remaining provinces was
soon effected, and Stanislaus Augustus, who had long
enjoyed merely the shadow of royalty, and had degrad¬
ed himself by becoming the instrument of Russian usur¬
pation, retired to Grodno, there to pass the remainder
of his days on a pension granted him by the empress.
1795. On the 1 8th of February, a treaty of defen- An. 17!).;,
sive alliance between the empress of Russia and his Bri¬
tannic majesty was signed at St Petersburgh. The
ostensible object of thistreaty was to maintain the gene¬
ral tranquillity of Europe, and more especially of the
north ; and by it Russia agreed to furnish Great Britain
with 10,000 infantry and 2000 horse in case of invasion;
while Great Britain was, under similar circumstances,
to send her imperial majesty a squadron consisting of two
ships of 74 guns, six of 60, and four of 50, with a com¬
plement of 4560 men. On the 18th March was signed
the act by which the duchies of Courland and Semigal-
lia, together with the circle of Pilten, all which had
lately belonged to the duke of Courland, but had long
retained only the shadow of independence, submitted
themselves to the Russian dominion.
In this year there took place between the courts of Dispute
St Petersburgh and Stockholm, a dispute which threat- with Swe-
ened to terminate in a war. Gustavus III. had been as- den,
sassinated by Ankerstroem at a masquerade, on the 15th
March 1791, and the young king Gustavus Adolphus
being still a minor, the duke of Sudermania, his uncle,
had been appointed regent of the kingdom. The regent
had determined to effect a marriage between his nephew
and a princess of the house of Mecklenburg ; but Ca¬
tharine publicly declared that the late king had betroth¬
ed his son to one of her granddaughters. The misunder¬
standing hence originating, was increased by the rude
and indecorous behaviour of the baron Von Budberg,
the Russian charge dcs affaires at Stockholm, and mat¬
ters seemed tending to an open rupture; when in 179b,
a French emigrant named Christin effected a reconci-
li tion, and General Budberg, the baron’s uncle, was
sent
E U S
nussin. gent as ambassador to Stockholm from the Russian court.
In consequence of this reconciliation, the young king, at-
tended by the regent, and a numerous train of Swedish
courtiers, set out on a visit to St Petersburgh, where
they arrived on the 24th of August, and an interview
took place between the empress and her royal visitors,
for the purpose of finally adjusting the projected matri¬
monial alliance. Gustavus Adolphus was much pleased
w ith the appearance of the grand duchess Alexandra;
but informed the empress, that by the fundamental laws
of Sweden he could not sign the marriage contract be¬
fore the princess had abjured the Greek religion ; and
as neither the solicitations nor the flatteries of Catharine
could prevail on the young monarch to depart from the
received custom of his country, the negociation ended,
and the next day Gustavus and his retinue quitted St
Petersburgh.
The last transaction of importance in the reign of
Catharine was her invasion of the Persian territories,
undertaken for the purpose of acquiring certain posses¬
sions on the shores of the Casp’an. A Russian army
entered Daghestan, and made itself master of Derbent,
but was afterwards defeated by the Persians under
Aga Mahmed.
The death of the empress took place, as we have
elsewhere stated, on the 9th of November of this year ;
and the grand duke Paul Petrovitch ascended the
throne under the title of Paul I.
a<Paul Petrovitch had attained his 42d year before the
ei-n of ^ea^1 °f hi® mother placed him on the imperial throne;
mT ° kut for many years before her death, he had lived in a
state of comparative obscurity and retirement, and had
apparently been considered by the empress as incapable
of taking any active part in the administration of affairs.
It is well known that Catharine never admitted him to
any participation of power, and kept him in a state of
the most abject and mortifying separation from court,
and in almost total ignorance of the affairs of the em¬
pire. Although by his birth he was generalissimo of
the armies, president of the admiralty, and grand admi¬
ral of the Baltic, he wras never permitted to head even
a regiment, and was interdicted from visiting the fleet
at Cronstadt. From these circumstances it is evident
that the empress either had conceived some jealousy of
her son, or saw in hhn some mental imbecility, that
appeared to her to disqualify him for the arduous con¬
cerns of government. There is little doubt, from the
circumstances which distinguished his short reign, that
Catharine had been chiefly influenced in her treatment
of the grand duke, by the latter consideration. There
were certainly times at which Paul displayed evident
marks of insanity, though he occasionally gave proofs
of a generous and tender disposition, and even of in¬
tellectual vigour.
It is generally believed that, a short time before her
death, Catharine committed to Plato Zuboff, her last fa¬
vourite, a declaration of herwill, addressed to the senate,
desiring that Paul should be parsed over in the suc¬
cession, and that on her death the grand duke Alex¬
ander should ascend the vacant thione. As soon as
Zuboff was made acquainted with the sudden death of
the empress, he flew to Pavlovsk, about 2.3 miles from
St Petersburgh, where Paul occasionally resided, but
meeting the grand duke cn the road, he, after a short
Vol. XVIII. .Part I.
S I A. 303
explanation, delivered up the important document. Hussia.
Paul, charmed with his zeal and loyalty, rewarded the
late favourite, by permitting him to retain the wealth
and honours which had been heaped on him by his
mistress, while a general and rapid dispersion soon took
place among the other adherents of the late sovereign.
On the day following the death of his mother, Paul
made his public entry into St Petersburgh, amidst the
acclamations of all ranks of people.
One of the first measures adopted by the new empe- Singular
ror excited considerable surprise, and divided the opi- funeral of
nions of the public with respect to the motives by which Peter lir*
it had been suggested; some attributing it to his respect
for the memory of his late father; others to a culpable
reflection on that of his mother. He ordered the re¬
mains of Peter III. to be removed from the sepulchre
in which they had been deposited in the church of St
Alexander Nefski, and caused him to lie in state for
three weeks, while they were watched night and day
by the only two remaining conspirators who had assisted
at his assassination. After this dreadful mark of his
justice on the murderers of his father (surely more ter¬
rible to the guilty mind than death itself), he consigned
the ashes to the sepulchre of Catharine II. in the cathe¬
dral of St Peter and St Paul, obliging the assassins to
walk in the procession as chief mourners.
Few political events of any importance marked the
reign of Paul previous to the year 1798, when, in con¬
sequence of a treaty between Paul and the emperor of
Germany, a Russian army of 45,000 men under Field-
marshal SuvarofF, joined the imperialists in the Austrian
territories in Italy. The progress of Suvaroff, his suc¬
cesses over Moreau, and his final recal by his master,
have already been related in the article France, from
498 to 506.
In 1799, Paul entered into a treaty of offensive and An- GSff.
defensive alliance with his Britannic majesty. This Tre^t6Sof
treaty was signed at St Petersburgh on the 22d of June, aiiiancc°be-
having been preceded by a provisional treaty between tween Rus-
the same powers at the end of the year 1798. By the sia and Bri-
provisional treaty it had been stipulated that Paul should ta^n*
assist the king of Prussia, if the latter could be per*-
suaded to join his arms to the allied powers against
France, with 45,000 men ; and that the king of Great
Britain should-pay to Russia a subsidy of L.75,O00 ster¬
ling per month ; and in case the king of Prussia should
refuse to join the coa’ition, the same number of troops,
in consideration of the same subsidy, should be employed
as occasion might require, to assist the common cause.
By the new treaty, the emperor of Russia, instead of the
45,000 troops, engaged to furnish 17,593, with the ne¬
cessary artillery, to be employed in an expedition against
Holland ; and he engaged to furnish six ships, five fri¬
gates, and two transports, for the purpose of transport¬
ing part of the invading army from Britain, to the con¬
tinent. In consideration of these succours, the court of
London engaged to advance to Russia a subsidy of
L.44,000 sterling per month; to pay the sum of L.58,929
10s. sterling for the expences of equipping the fleet; and
after the period of three months had elapsed from such
equipment, to pay a further subsidy of L. 19,642, 10s.
sterling per month, so long as the fleet should remain
under the command of hi sBritannic majesty.
In consequence of this treaty, a Russian fleet joined
t 3D that
394 11 U S
Kussia. that of Britain in Yarmouth roads, and took part in the
unfortunate expedition to the coast of Holland, under¬
taken in the summer of 1799* See Britain, N° 1069-
An, 1801, In the beginning of the year 1801, all Europe was
thrown into the greatest astonishment by the appearance
Ittwclo the a paragraph in the Hamburgh gazette of the 16‘th of
sovereigns January. The paragraph was dated from Petersburgh,
of Europe! the 30th December, 1800, and is as follows.
“ We learn from Petersburgh, that the emperor of
Russia, finding that the powers of Europe cannot agree
among themselves, and being desirous to put an end to
a war which has desolated it for 11 years past, intends
to point out a spot, to which he will invite all the other
sovereigns to repair and fight in single combat; bring¬
ing with them as seconds and squires, their most en¬
lightened ministers, and their most able generals, such
as Messrs Thugot, Pitt, Bernstorff, &c. and that the
emperor himself proposes being attended by generals
count de Pahlen and Khutosof: We know not if this
report be worthy of credit; however, the thing appears
not destitute of some foundation, and bears strong
marks of what he has been often taxed with.”
This paragraph was immediately copied or translated
into all the public papers, and it was strongly affirmed
by many, that it was the composition of Paul himself.
This has since been confirmed by the poet Kotzebue,
who was employed by the emperor of Russia to translate
the original into German, for the express purpose of its
170 being inserted in the Hamburgh gazette (h).
Other ^ . This was not the only mark of mental derangement
rnarks of displayed by the unhappy monarch. His favours and
Perot’s "de- ^isP^easure wrere alternately experienced by some of
jangement. his most distinguished courtiers and adherents. Stanis¬
laus, the deposed king of Poland, partook by turns of
his beneficence and his severity ; and at length on the
death of that monarch, Paul assisted at his funeral, com¬
manded in person the guards that attended on the cere¬
mony, and uncovering himself with the utmost emotion,
saluted the coffin a« it passed. To the memory of the
hoary Suvaroff, who is said to have fallen a broken¬
hearted victim to the distraction of his imperial master,
he raised a colossal statue of bronze; and on the days
when he reviewed his troops in the square where the
statue had been erected, he used to command them to
march by in open order, and face the statue. Notwith¬
standing the important service that had been rendered
him by Zuboff, the emperor soon became disgusted with
him ; spoke of him to his friends with great asperity ;
at length denounced him as a defaulter to the imperial
treasury of half a million of rubles ; and convinced of
the justice of the allegation, proceeded to sequestrate the
vast estates which belonged to him and his two brothers.
S I A.
Driven to desperation by such conduct, the second bro- Russia,
ther of the favourite one day walked up boldly to the
emperor upon the parade, and with manly eloquence
represented the injustice of his measures. Paul received
him without anger, heard him without interruption, and
restored the property ; but soon after he ordered Plato
Zuboff to reside on his estate. He formed an adulterous
connexion with Madame Chevalier, a French actress,
through whose influence Zuboff was again recalled to
court, and restored to favour.
It is not surprising that these instances of folly and Conspirac
caprice should alarm and disgust many of the nobles, formed
In particular. Count P , the governor of St Peters- againstt!li
burgh, a son of the celebrated general P P ,eniI)er01,
who so eminently distinguished himself in the lastTurk-
ish war. Prince Y——, with some other men of rank,
entered into a confederacy with Zuboff, to prevent
the final ruin of their country, by removing the pre¬
sent emperor. In their conferences, which were ma¬
naged with great prudence and discretion, it was re¬
solved that Paul should die, and the day of the festival
called Maslaintza, the eleventh of March O. S. should
be the day for executing the awful deed. At the
time of this confederacy, the emperor and his family
resided in the new palace of St Michael, an enormous
quadrangular pile standing at the bottom of the sum¬
mer gardens. As Paul was anxious to inhabit this
palace as soon after he was crowned as possible, the
masons, carpenters, and various artificers, toiled with
incredible labour by day and by torch light, under the
sultry sun of the summer, and in all the severity of a
polar winter, and in three years this enormous and mag¬
nificent fabric wras completed. The whole is moated
round, and when the stranger surveys its bastions of
granite, and numerous draw bridges, he is naturally
led to conclude, that it was intended for the last asylum
of a prince at w'ar with his subjects. Those who have
seen its massy walls, and the capaciousness and variety
of its chambers, will easily admit that an act of vio¬
lence might be committed in one room, and not be
beard by those who occupy the adjoining one; and
that a massacre might be perpetrated at one end, and
not known at the other. Paul took possession of this
palace as a place of strength, and beheld it with rapture,
because his imperial mother had never even seen it.
While his family w’ere here, by every act of tenderness,
endeavouring to sooth the terrible perturbation of his
mind, there were not wanting those who exerted every
stratagem to inflame and increase it. These people
were constantly insinuating that every hand was armed
against him. With this impression, which added fuel to
his burning brain, he ordered a secret staircase to be con¬
structed,
(h) This paragraph is such a curious nwrceau of witty insanity, that we shall here give the original French, as
written by Paul himself, and published by Kotzebue, in his account of his exile into Siberia. ft On apprend de
Petersbourg, que 1’Empereur de Russie, voyant que les puissances de 1’Europe nepouvoient s'accorder entr’ elles,
et voulant mettre fin a une guerre qui la desoloit depnis onze ans, vouloit proposer un lieu ou il in viteroit tous les
autres Souverains de se rendre et y combattre en champ clos, ayaut avec eux pour ecuyer juge de camp et heros
des armes Jeurs ministres les plus eclaires et les generaux les plus habiles, tels, que M. M. Thugot, Pitt, Bernstorff;
lui meme se proposant de prendre avec lui les generaux G. de Pahlen et Khutosof. On ne sqait si on doit y ajouter
foix ; toute fois la chose ne paroit pas destitute dc fondement, cn portant 1’empreinte de ce dont il a sou vent ete
taxe."
It u s
issia. structed, which, leading from his own chamber, passed
* under a false stove in the anti-room, and led by a small
172 door to the terrace.
I assassi- It was the custom of the emperor to sleep in an apart-
n ,n’ ment next to the empress’s, upon a sopha, in his regi¬
mentals and boots, whilst the grand duke and duchess,
and the rest of the imperial family, were lodged at va¬
rious distances, in apartments below the story which he
occupied. On the 10th March, 1801, the day preced¬
ing the fatal night, whether Paul’s apprehension, or
anonymous information, suggested the i dea, is not known,
but conceiving that a storm was ready to burst upon
him, he sent to Count P————, the governor of the
city, one of the noblemen who had resolved on his de-
strution : I am informed, P , said the emperor,
that there is a conspiracy on foot against me, do you
think it necessary to take any precaution ? The count,
without betraying the least emotion, replied. Sire, do
not suffer such apprehensions to haunt your mind ; if
there "were any combinations forming against your ma¬
jesty’s person, I am sure I should be acquainted with it.
Then I am satisfied, said the emperor, and the gover¬
nor withdrew. Before Paul retired to rest, he, beyond
his usual custom, expressed the most tender solicitude
for the empress and his children, kissed them with all
the warmth of farewell fondness, and remained with
them for a considerable time. He afterwards visited
the centinels at their different posts, and then retired to
his chamber. Soon after the emperor had retired, the
guard that was always placed at his chamber door was,
by some pretext, changed by the officers who had the
command for the night, and who were engaged in the
conspiracy. One man only remained. This was a hus¬
sar whom the emperor had honoured with particular
marks of attention, and who always slept at night in
the antichamber, at his sovereign’s bed room door.
This faithful soldier it was found impossible to remove,
except by force, which at that time the conspirators did
not think proper to employ. Silence now reigned
throughout the palace, disturbed only by the pacing of
the centinels, or by the distant murmurs of the Neva;
and only a few straggling lights were to be seen, irre¬
gularly gleaming through the windows of the palace.
In the dead of the night, Z , and his friends, a-
mounting to eight or nine persons, passed the draw¬
bridge, ascended the staircase that led to the emperor’s
apartments, and met with no opposition till they reach¬
ed the antichamber, where the faithf ul hussar, awakened
by the noise, challenged them, and presented his fusee.
Though they must have admired the brave fidelity of
the guard, neither time nor circumstances would admit
of an act of generosity, which might have endangered
their whole plan of operations. Z  drew his
sabre, and cut the poor fellow down. In the mean
time Paul, roused by the unusual bustle, sprang from
his couch. At this moment the whole party rushed into
his chamber. The unhappy sovereign anticipating their
design, at first endeavoured to entrench himself behind
the chairs and tables; but soon recovering some share of
his natural courage, he assumed a high tone, told them
they were his prisoners, and required them to surrender,
binding that they fixed their eyes steadily and fiercely
upon him, and continued to advance, he implored them
to spare his life, declared his willingness instantly to re¬
linquish the sceptre, and to accept of any terms which
S I A. • . 59r,
they might dictate. He even offered to make them Russia,
princes, and to confer on them orders and estates. Be-
gardless alike of his threats and promises, they now be¬
gan to press on him, when he made a convulsive effort
to reach the window, but failed in the attempt; and, in¬
deed, had he succeeded in his endeavour to escape that
way, the height from the window to the ground was so
great, that the expedient would probably have only put
a more speedy period to his existence. As the conspi¬
rators drew him back, he grasped a chair, with which
he knocked down one of the assailants, and a desperate
conflict now took place. So great was the noise, that
notwithstanding the massy walls, and double folding
doors that divided Paul’s apartments from those of the
empress, she was disturbed, and began to call for help,
when a voice whispered in her ear, commanding her
to remain quiet, and threatening that if she uttered
another word, she should instantly be put to death.
Paul was now making his last struggle, when the
prince Y struck him on the temple with his fist,
and laid him prostrate on the floor. Recovering from
the blow, the unhappy monarch again implored his life.
At this moment the heart of one of the conspirators re¬
lented, and he was observed to hesitate and tremble, when
a young Hanoverian, who was one of the party, exclaim¬
ed, We have passed the Rubicon; if we spare his life,
we shall, before the setting of to-morrow’s sun, become
his victims ; on saying which he took off his sash, turn¬
ed it twice round the naked neck of the emperor, and
giving one end to Z.. ■ ■ ., himself drew the other,
till the object of their attack expired *. * See Carr't
The assassins retired from the palace without the least ^ori,,crn
molestation, and returned to their respective homes. A s ^uvme' *
soon a? the dreadful catastrophe was discovered, medical
assistance was called in, in the hope of restoring what
might be only suspended animation; but these attempts
proved fruitless. At seven o’clock on the morning of
the 12th, the intelligence of the death of Paul, and the
accession of the grand duke Alexander were announced
to the capital. By eight o’clock the principal nobility
had paid their homage to the new emperor, in the cha¬
pel of the winter palace; and the great officers of state
being assembled, Alexander was solemnly proclaimed
emperor of all the Russias. The emperor presented
himself at the parade on horseback, and wras hailed by
the troops with loud and cordial acclamations. 173
The emperor Alexander was in his 24th year when Accession
he ascended the throne, and from his amiable disposition Alexan-
had acquired the love and respect of all his subjects,
The first measure which he adopted, his proclamation,
and his first imperial orders, all tended to encourage
and confirm the confidence with which the people be¬
held him ascend the throne of his forefathers. He so¬
lemnly promised to tread in the steps of Catharine II.:
he allowed every one to dress according to their own
fancy ; exonerated the inhabitants of the capital from
the trouble and duty of alighting from their carriages
on the approach of the imperial family; dismissed the
court advocate, who was universally and justly detest¬
ed ; suppressed the secret inquisition that had become
the scourge of the country; restored to the senate its
former authority ; set at liberty the state prisoners, and
recalled from Siberia several of the exiles. He even
extended his mercy to the assassins of the late emperor.
Zuboff was ordered not to approach the imperial resi-
3 D 2 deuce;
396
It U S S I A.
Russia.
174
AmicaWe
disposition
of Alexan¬
der towards
Britain.
175
Treaty of
amity and
commerce
with Swe¬
den.
deuce, and the governor of the city was transferred to
Riga.
It is not easy to explain the motives that induced
Alexander to forego that vengeance which justice seem¬
ed to demand on the heads of his father’s assassins. It
has been attributed by one of his panegyrists to a forlorn
and melancholy conviction that the murderers had been
prompted to commit the bloody deed, solely by a re¬
gard for the salvation of the empire. This conviction
might have induced the young monarch to diminish the
weight of that punishment which piety and justice
called on him to inflict, but can scarcely account for
his total forbearance.
The emperor Alexander, on his accession to the
throne, appeared desirous to cultivate the friendship of
the neighbouring states, and especially that of Great
Britain. His late father, among other projects, had
procured himself to be elected grand master of the
knights of Malta, and had laid claim to the sovereignty
of that island. Tins claim, which had nearly produced
a rupture between the courts of London and St Peters-
burgh, Alexander consented to abandon, though he ex¬
pressed a wish to be elected grand master of the order,
by the free suffrages of the knights. In the mean time
a confederacy had been formed among the northern
powers of Europe, with a view to oppose the British
claim to the sovereignty of the seas; but by the spirited
interference of the British court, especially with the
cabinet of St Petersburgh, the good understanding be¬
tween Britain and the northern states was re-establish¬
ed, and the embargo which had been laid on British
vessel's in the Russian ports was taken off.
On the If th of June, Alexander caused to be pub¬
lished the following circular letter, showing his disposi¬
tion to be on terms of amity with the French republic.
All the relations of policy, commerce, and correspon¬
dence with France, which were interrupted, in conse¬
quence of the revolution in that country, have not yet
been re established in their full extent; but as at the
present moment negociations are going on to effect a
reconciliation with that power by every means consistent
with the dignity of the emperor and the interests of his
people, his mjesty has been pleased to charge his mini¬
sters to apprize his foreign ambassadors and agents, that
he is willing to renew the usual course of connection
with the government, and that the conferences respect¬
ing that object are in full activity. In the situation in
which this matter stands, therefore, it is no longer pro¬
per that the ambassadors of his imperial majesty should
continue to observe any distance towards the ambassa¬
dors of the French government.”
Early in the same month there was signed at St Pe¬
tersburgh, a treaty of amity, commerce, and navigation,
between Russia and Sweden, to continue far 12 years,
by which Sweden was allowed to import into Russia,
alum, sa't herrings, and salt, on the payment of one-
half of the duties then exacted, and into Russian Fin¬
land the produce of Swedish Finland, duty free; while
the impoi tation of Russia into Sweden, of hemp, li-
r en, and tallow, was allowed at one half of the existing
duties, and oflinseed at two-thivds The most remark¬
able part of this treaty was the recognition, by the court
of St Petersburgh, of the northern confederacy, which
the amicable adjustment with Britain appeared to have
done away.
1 he commerce of Russia had ndw recovered its for- Russia
mer splendour, i he exports fVom the city of Riga W-y-,
alone for the year ending July 1801, amounted to 176
0,770,638 rubles, and of these exports. England alone ^rosP«o
imported to the value of 2,509,853 rubles.
On the 25th of Match 1802 was signed at Amiens (.0„u™(
the definitive treaty of peace between the belligerent An. iJ
powers of Europe, by one material article of which the 117
islands of Malts., Gozo and Comimo, were to be icstor- If,lssia ?
ed to the knights of St John of Jerusalem, under the ^verem
protection and guarantee of France, Great Britain,
Austria, Spain, Russia, and Prussia; and his Sicilian theknig
majesty was invited to furnish 2000 men, natives of his ot J(b
states, to serve in garrisons at the different fortresses of ^ Jerus
the said islands, for one year after their restitution to
the knights, or until they should be replaced by a f orce
deemed sufficient by the guaranteeing powers. Some
time after the conclusion of this treaty, disputes arose
among the contracting powers relative to the sovereign¬
ty of'Malta, which the emperor of Russia insisted should
be yielded to Naples, otherwise he would not undertake
to guarantee the order, and would separate from it the
priories of Russia. The result of these disputes is well
known, as they afforded a reason for renewing the
bloody contest which has so long desolated the face of
Europe. • ng
During the short interval of peace that was enjoyed Rruden <
by Europe, the emperor of Russia made several prudent §u!alior
regulations in the internal administration of his empire.
On the 12th of September 1801, a manifesto had been
published, proclaiming the union of Georgia or Russian
Grufinia with the empire, and on the 1st April 1802,
Alexander sent a deputation to establish the new go¬
vernment at Teflis, the capital of the province. This
deputation v as received by the natives with enthusiastic
joy, especially as they brought back the image of St
Nina, which their prince W achtang at his death had
left at Mosco. On the 28th May, the emperor wrote
a letter to the chamberlain Wittostoff, president of the
commission for ameliorating the condition of the poor of
St Petersburgh, in which he recommended the commis¬
sion to follow the example of a similar establishment at
Hamburgh, in selecting proper objects for their chari¬
table bequests, preferring the humble and industrious
paxiper to the idle and sturdy beggar. He also offered
considerable premiums to persons who should introduce
any new or advantageous mode of agriculture, or who
should bring to perfection any old invention, open any
new branch of commerce, establish any new manufac¬
ture, or contrive any machine or process that might be
useful in the arts.
Early in the year 1803, the emperor fitted out at his An. 18
own expence, two vessels for a voyageof discovery round 179
the world, under the command of Captain Krucenstern. A v?'vsf „
These ships were provided with every necessary fen* ac-
complishing the object of the voyage ; and several men
of eminence for science and literature, among whom
was Churchman the American astronomer, volunteered
their services on this occasion. The vessels sailed in the
latter end of 1 803, and about a year after, intelligence
was received from M. Krucenstern, who was then lying
at Kamtschatka. They had touched at the Marquesas
islands, where they had found a Frenchman and an
Englishman, who had been left there several years be-
fure. Th,e Englishman had completely forgotten his
native
HUS
ssia. native language, and the Frenchman, who had for se-
s. f-w ven years spoken nothing but the language of the na¬
tives, scarcely retained sufficient French to inform M.
Krucenstern that he had made part of the crew of an
American vessel which was wrecked on those coasts.
The expedition was then preparing to sail for Japan, to
carry thither M. de Rasannoff, who had been appointed
ambassador extraordinary from the court of Russia to
that of Japan.
Ar 804. In the beginning of 1804, the emperor established a
university at Kharkof in Lithuania, (or the cultivation
e of an- anc^ °f the arts and sciences in that part of the
5ity Russian empire, and Mr Fletcher Campbell, a Scots
in i hu- gentleman, was employed to procure masters for this
new institution. Some time after, the emperor order¬
ed that meteorological observations should be regularly
made at all the universities and public schools, and the
results published. It appears that at the end of this
year the sums allotted by the Kussian government, for
defraying the expences of these institutions amounted
to 2,14.9,213 rubles, besides a gift of nearly O'0,000 ru¬
bles towards erecting the new university.
I ;1 About this time an imperial ukase was published,
It icipa- granting to the Jews a complete emancipation from the
Je in 6 s^ac^^es under which that devoted people had long
Bv a< groaned, and allowing them the privileges of educating
their children in any of the schools and universities of
i 32 the empire, or establishing schools at their own expence.
Di ite por g01Tie time the genius of discord, which had again
Pj e actuated the minds of the European sovereigns, failed
to extend her baleful influence over the Russian em¬
pire ; but it was scarcely possible that the emperor
should long remain an impartial spectator of the renew¬
ed disputes between his more powerful neighbours. An
important change had, in the latter end of 1802, taken
place in the ministry of the empire; and Count Woronz-
off, brother to the late ambassador at London, had been
appointed great chancellor in chief of the department
of foreign affairs, with Prince Adam Tzartoriski for his
assistant. How far this change in the councils of the
empire influenced the political measures of the court of
St Petersburgh, it is not easy to determine; but in the
la ter end of J 803, Alexander appeared to view with a
jealous eye the presumption and violence exercised by
France among the German states, and the encroach¬
ments which she appeared desirous of making on th.e
freedom of the Baltic. Alexander had offered his me¬
diation between Great Britain and France, but with¬
out effect, and both these parties strove to bring over
the Russian emperor to their alliance. France seems to
have held out to the ambition of Alexander the bait of
a partition of the Turkish territories, the dismember¬
ment of which had long been a favourite object with
his predecessors. At length, however, the court of
London prevailed, and the Russian ambassador, by his
master’s orders, took leave of the First Consul of the
French republic, though without demonstrating any in¬
tentions of immediate hostility. A new levy of 100,000
men was immediately ordered, to recruit the Russian
army, and to prevent any jealousy on the s‘de of Tur¬
key, assurances were given to the Sublime Porte of the
amicable intentions of Russia towards that power.
On the ] 1th April a treaty of concert was conclud¬
ed between Great Britain and Russia, in which the two
governments agreed tp adopt the most efficacious means
ST A. ' 397
for forming a general league of the states of Europe, Tiussia.
to be directed against the power of France. The ob-
jects of this league were undoubtedly of great import- An. 1805.
ance to the welfare of Europe ; and it is deeply to be *'83
regretted that the circumstances of the times did not Trcaty
admit of their being carried into execution. From the 6
terms of the treaty, these objects appear to be,—First, Great Bri-
The evacuation of the country of Hanover and the tain and
north of Germany. Secondly, The establishment of the Russia,
independence of the republics of Holland and Switzer¬
land. Thirdly, The re-establishment of the king of
Sardinia in Piedmont, with as large an augmentation
of territory as circumstances would allow. Fourthly,
The future security of the kingdom of Naples, and the
complete evacuation of Italy, the island of Elba includ¬
ed, by the French forces. Fifthly, The establishment of
an order of things in Europe, which might effectually
guarantee the security and independence of the diffe¬
rent states, and present a solid barrier against future
usurpation.
For the prosecution of the great objects of this treaty,,
it was proposed by the first article that an array of
500,000 men should be levied ; but in a sub sequent sepa¬
rate article, the contracting parties, after observing that
it was more desirable than easy to assemble so large a
force, agreed that the treaty should be carried into exe-
cutionas soon as it shou’d bepossible to oppose to France
an active force of 400,000 men. It was understood and
stipulated that these troops should be provided by the
powers of thn continent who should become parties to
the league, and subsidies should be granted by Great
Britain in the proportion of 1,250,0001. sterling for
every 100,000 men, besides a considerable additional
sum for the necessary expence occasioned in bringing
them into the field. 181(
About this time the occupation of Genoa by the Open rup-
French, on the pretence that that republic was too fee- ture "ah
ble to support itself against the attacks of Great Bri- France-
tain, was communicated to the different courts of Eu¬
rope, and excited in every quarter the highest indigna¬
tion. The emperor Alexander, in particular, was in¬
censed at this new outrage. Such an open violation of
those principles which were justly regarded as essential
to the general safety, committed not only during the
peace of the continent, but v/hen passports had been
delivered to his ambassador, in order that a negociation
might be commenced for the purpose of providing fur
the permanent security and repose of Europe, he consi¬
dered as an indecent insult to his person and crown.
He issued immediate orders for the recal of M. Novo-
siltzolf; and the messenger dispatched upon this occa¬
sion was commanded to repair with the utmost diligence
to Berlin. M. Novoriltzoff had not yet left that city ;
he immediately therefore returned his passports to the
Prussian minister of state, Baron deHardenberg, and at
the same time delivered, by order of his court, a memo¬
rial explanatory of tlie object of his mission, and of
the circumstances which had led to its termination.
It stated that the emperor had, in compliance with
the wishes of his Britannic majesty, sent his ambassador
to Bonaparte, to meet the pacific overtures which he had
made to the court of London : that the existing disa-
preementbetw’een Russia andFrance might have placed
insurmountable obstacles in the way of a negociation
for peace by a Russian minister; but that his imperial
majesty
&9S II U S S
Hussia. majesty of Russia did noi fora moment hesitate to pass
over all personal displeasure, and all the usual formali¬
ties ; that he had declared h^ would receive the pass¬
ports only on condition that Ids minister should enter
directly upon a negotiation with the chief of the French
government, without acknowledging the new title
which he had assumed : and that Bonaparte should give
explicit assurances that he was still animated by the
same wish for a general peace, which he had appeared
to shew in his letter to his Britannic majesty ; that af¬
ter his Prussian majesty had transmitted the positive an-
swer of the court of the Thuilleries, that it persevered
in the intention sincerely to lend its hand to a pacific
negotiation, the emperor had accepted the passports ;
but that by a fresh transgression of the mostsolemn trea¬
ties, the union of the Ligurian republic with France
had been effected ; that this event of itself, the cir¬
cumstances which had accompanied it, the formalities
which had been employed to hasten the execution of it,
the moment which had been chosen to carry the same
into execution, had formed an aggregate which must
terminate the sacrifices which the emperor would have
made at the pressing request of Great Brit .in, and in
the hope of restoring tranquillity to Europe by the
means of nego'iaticn.
The recal of the Russian envoy appeared to be the
signal of hostilities on the part of Russia and Austria
against France. These hostilities may be said to have
commenced and terminated in the autumn of this year.
The military operations thatdistinguishedthis short but
bloody conflict, the rapid successes of the French, the
Capitulation of Ulm on the 17th of October, the occu¬
pation of Vienna by the French on the 12th of the same
month, and the sanguinary battle of Austerlitz on the
27th of November, have been already noticed under
France, N° 562—555, and are fresh in the memory
of our readers. The consequences of these disastrous
events were, first a cessation of hostilities, and at length
a treaty of firm alliance between Russia and France.
An, 1806. Before Alexander finally stooped to the imperial ea¬
gles of Napolean, however, he was determined to make
one more effort to preserve his independence. The
Russian envoy at Paris, d'Oubril, had hastily concluded
a preliminary treaty of peace between his master and
the emperor of the French, which he signed at Paris on
the Sth of July ISOG, and instantly set out for St Pe-
tersburgh to procure the ratification of his master. The
terms of this convention were laid before the privy coun¬
cil by Alexander; but they appeared so derogatory to
the interests of Russia, that the emperor refused them
his sanction, and declared that the counsellor of state,
d'Oubril, when he signed the convention, had not only
departed from the instructions he had received, but had
acted directly contrary to the sense and intention of the
commission with which he had been entrusted. His
imperial majesty, however, signified his willingness to
renew the negotiations for peace, but only on such
terms as were consistent with the dignity of his crown,
^ and the interests of his empire.
Alliance In the mean time, the king of Prussia began, when it
with I’ms- was too late, to see the folly and imprudence of the neu-
sia against trality which he had so long maintained, and he at
France, length prepared to oppose his now feeble efforts to the
growing power of France. He brought together in the
summer of this year, an army of at least 200,000 men.
I A
near Weimar and Jena, while the French myriads as- lUissi-.,
sembled in Franconia, and on the frontiers of Saxony.
Previous to the commencement of hostilities, his Prus¬
sian majesty issued a spirited manifesto, in which he ex¬
plained his motives for abandoning his plan of neutra¬
lity, and appealed to Europe for the justice of his cause.
The king of Prussia entered into an alliance with the
emperor Alexander, and with the king of Sweden, and
it was expected, that these united forces would at length
hurl the tyrant of Europe from his throne, or at least
compel him to listen to equitable terms of pacification.
These expectations were, however, miserably disap¬
pointed. The same extraordinary success was still to
attend the arms of France, and the north of Europe
was again condemned to submit in silence to her
yoke.
On the 13th October, the Prussians received a dread¬
ful check at the battle of Jena, where, according to
the French accounts, their loss amounted to 20,000 in
killed and wounded, and above 30,000 prisoners; and
on the 27th of the same month, Napolean entered Ber¬
lin. While the French were thus successful, the troops
of the emperor Alexander entered Prussian Poland, and
took up their residence at Warsaw ; but they were soon
attacked by the French under the grand duke of Berg *. «
On the 26th of November, the outposts of the respec¬
tive armies fell in with each other, and a skirmish took
place, in which the Russians were thrown into some
confusion and a regiment of Kozaks was made prisoners.
On the 28th the grand duke of Berg entered Warsaw
with his cavalry, and the Russians retreated across the
Vistula, burning the bridge over which they had pas¬
sed. On the 26th of December, « dreadful engage¬
ment took place between the Russians, commanded by
General Benningsen, and the French under generals
Murat, Davoust, and Lasnes. The scene of action was
at Ostralenka, about 60 miles from Warsaw, and the
fighting continued for three days. The loss was im¬
mense on both sides, though the advantage appears to
have been on the side of the French. According to
French accounts, the Russian army lost 12,000 men
in killed and wounded, together with 80 pieces of
cannon, and all its ammunition waggons, while the
Russian account states the loss of the French at 5000
men.
In the beginning of February 1807* the Russians ob- An-
tained a partial advantage in the battle of Eylau. Ac- ^ I
cording to the account of this battle, given by G eneral Ra‘tle 1
de Budberg, in a dispatch to the marquis of Douglas, ■ M' |
the British ambassador at St Petersburgh, the Russian
general Benningsen, after having fallen back, for the
purpose of choosing a position which he judged well
adapted for manoeuvring the troops under his command,
drew up his army at Preussisch Eylau. During four
days successively hisrear guard had to withstand several
vigorous attacks ; and on the 7th of February at three
o’clock in the afternoon, the battle became general
through the whole line of the main army. The contest
was destructive, and night came on before it could be
decided. Early on the following morning, the French
renewed the attack, and the action was contested with
obstinacy on both sides, but towards the evening of
that day the assailants were repulsed, and the Russian
general remained master of the field. In this action,
Napolean commanded in person, having under him Au-
RUSSIA
issia. gereau, Davoust, Soult, Ney, and Bessieres, at the Iiead
1 of the imperial guards. The less of the Russians in that
engagement, was by themselves stated at above 6000
men, while they estimated that of the French at nearly
137 double that number.
I le of This was the last important stand made by the Russian
3 :dland, army- Several actions succeeded at Spanden, at La-
mitten, at Guttotadt, and at Heilsberg, in all of which
the French had the advantage, till at length on the
14.th of June, the Russians appeared in considerable
force on the bridge of Friedland, whither the French
army under Napoleon was advancing. At three in the
morning, the report of cannon was first heard, and at
this time Marshals L^snes and Mortier were engaged
with the Russians. After various manoeuvres, the Rus¬
sian troops received a check, and filed off towards Kon-
ningsberg. In the afternoon, the French army drew up
in order of battle, having Marshal Ney on the right,
Lasnes in the centre, and Mortier on the left, while
Victor commanded a corps de reserve, consisting of the
guards. At half past five the attack began on the side
of Marshal Ney ; and notwithstanding the different
movements of the Russians to effect a diversion, the
French soon carried all before them. The loss of the
Russians, according to the usual exaggerations of the
French bulletins, was estimated at from 10,000 to
15,000 men, and 25 of their generals were said to have
been killed, wounded, or taken. In consequence of
this victory, the French became masters of all the
country round Konningbserg, and Marshal Soult
entered that city in triumph.
Thus concluded the campaign in Germany, in which
the Russians sustained a loss of at least 30,000 of their
138 choicest troops.
It deck. While these military operations were going forward
ugainst on the continentof Europe,theemissariesof Francewere
busily employed at Constantinople, in exciting the di-
y’ van to declare against their ancient enemies. They at
length succeeded ; and on the 30th of December war
with Russia was proclaimed, and 28 regiments of janis¬
saries assembled under the command of the grand vizir;
but the disturbances which broke out in the latter end
of May 1807, prevented any operations of importance
from taking place, and the pacification which was soon
concluded between Russia and France, though it did
not entirely put a stop to the war between the former
power and Turkey, in some measure diminished their
189 hostile preparations.
eaqr of defeats which the allied armies had sustained in
Prussia and Poland, rendered peace, almost on any
terms, a desireable object; and Alexander found him¬
self constrained to meet, at least with the appearance of
friendship, the conqueror of his armies. Propositions
for an armistice had been made by the Prussian general
to the grand duke of Berg near Tilsit, and after the
battle of Friedland, the Russian prince Labanoff had a
conference, on similar views, with the prince of Neuf-
chatel, soon after which an armistice was concluded be¬
tween the French and Russians. On the 26th of June
399
an amicable meeting took place on the river Niemen* Russia,
between the emperors of France and Russia,and adjoin-
ing apartments were fitted up for the reception of both
courts in the town of Tilsit. This constrained friend¬
ship was soon after cemented by the treaty of Tilsit,
concluded between the emperor of the French on the
one part, and the emperor of Russia and the king of
Prussia on the other, on the 7th and 12th of July in this
year. . ... 19o
The conclusion of the treaty of Tilsit was notified to Rupture
the court of London on the 1st of August by M. Alo- with Bri-
peus, minister plenipotentiary from the emperor of ta*A>
Russia; and at the same time a proposal was made
from his imperial majesty for mediating a peace be¬
tween France and Britain. This mediation, however,
was declined on the part of Great Britain, until his Bri¬
tannic majesty should be made acquainted with the sti¬
pulations of the treaty of Tilsit, and should find them
such as might afford him a just hope of the attainment
of a secure and honourable peace. This declining of
the mediation of Russia was no doubt expected by
the court of St Pelersburgh ; but it served as a pretext
for binding more closely the alliance between that power
and France, by breaking off her connection with Great'
Britain. Accordingly, in October, Lord Granville Le-
veson Gower, who had succeeded the marquis of Dou¬
glas as British envoy, received a note from the govern¬
ment, intimating that, as a British ambassador,he could
be no longer received at the court of St Petersburgh,
which he therefore soon after quitted. An embargo
was laid on all British vessels in the ports of Russia,
and it was peremptorily required by Napoleon, and
Alexander, that Sweden should abandon her alliance
with Great Britain.
An additional ground of complaint against the British
court was furnished by the attack on Copenhagen, and
the seizure of the Danish fleet in theTreginning of Sep¬
tember ; and though Lord Gower had attempted to jus¬
tify these measures on the plea of anticipating the
French in the same transaction, the emperor of Russia
expressed, in the warmest terms, his indignation at what
he called an unjust attack on a neutral power. A con¬
siderable Russian fleet joined the French, but the com¬
bined squadrons were compelled to seek for shelter in
the Tagus, where they remained blocked up by the
British ; and another fleet of 15 sail of the line that
proceeded up the Mediterranean, and advanced as far
as Trieste, shared a similar fate (i.)
On the 26th of October the emperor of Russia publish¬
ed a declaration, notifying to the powers of Europe that
he had broken off all communication between his empire
and Great Britain, until the conclusion of a peace be¬
tween this power and France. In a counter-declara¬
tion, published at London on the 10th of December,
his Britannic majesty repels the accusations of Russia,
while he regrets the interruption of the friendly inter¬
course between that power and Britain. His majesty
justifies his own conduct, and declares, that when the
opportunity for peace between Great Britain and Russia
shall
(i) By the unfortunate convention of Cintra, concluded on the 3d of September 1808, the Russian fleet in
the Tagus was surrendered to the British, to be held as a deposit, till six months after the signing of a definitive
treaty of peace.
400 II U S
Hussia. sliall arrive, he will embrace it with eagerness; satis-
"1J_ ^ fieri, if Russia shall manifest a disposition to return to
her ancient feeling of friendship towards Great Britain,
to a just consideration of her own true interests, and to
a sense of her own dignity as an independent nation.
\n. ISOS Oct°her 1808, a meeting took place at Erfurth
lyi between the emperors of Franee and Russia,and a letter
renewed was drawn up under their signature, addressed to his
egoeia- Britannic majesty. The object of this letter was, to
Britain*1*1 hiduce the king of Great Britain to enter into negocia-
tions for a general peace, and with that view it was dis¬
patched by Count Romanzoff, the Russian minister at
Erfurth, to Mr Canning the British secretary of state
for foreign affairs. As this letter, and the official note
of the British government in answer to it, supply two
very important documents in the latter history of the
present war, we shall here introduce them. The letter
of the two emperors is as follows.
<( Sire.—The present circumstances of Europe have
brought us together at Erfurth. Our first thought is to
yield to the wish and the wants of every people, and to
seek, in a speedy pacification with your majesty, the
most efficacious remedy for the miseries which oppress
all nations. We make knoAvn to your majesty our sin¬
cere desire in this respect by the present letter.
“ The long and bloody war which has torn the con¬
tinent is abandoned, without the possibility of being re¬
newed. Many changes have taken place in Europe ;
many states have been overthrown. The cause is to be
found in the state of agitation and misery in which the
stagnationof maritimecommerce has placed the greatest
nations. Still greater changes may yet take place, and
all of them contrary to the policy of the English nation.
Peace, then, is at once the interest of the continent, and
that of the people of Great Britain.
“ We unite in entreating your majesty to listen to the
voice of humanity, silencing that of the passions ; to
-*eek, with the intention of arriving at that object, to
conciliate all interests, and by that means to preserve all
the powers which exist, and to ensure the happiness of
Europe and of this generation, at the head of which
Providence has placed us.”
(Signed) Alexander. Napoleon.
In answrer to this letter the following official note,
signed by Mr Secretary Canning, w as dispatched to
Erfuith ; and as the imperial correspondents refused to
accede to the requisitions it contained, all hopes of pre¬
sent accommodation were at an end.
“ The king has uniformly declared his readiness and
desire to enter into negociations for a general peace, on
terms consistent with thehonour of his majesty’s crown,
w ith fidelity to his engagements, and with the perma¬
nent repose and security of Europe. His majesty re¬
peats that declaration.
“ If the condition of the continent be one of agita¬
tion and of wretchedness; if many states have been
overthrown!, and more are still menaced wdth subver¬
sion ; it is a consolation to the king to reflect that no
part of the convulsions which have been already ex¬
perienced, or of those which are threatened for the fu¬
ture, can be in any degree imputable to his majesty.
Tlie king is most’willing to acknow ledge that all such
dreadful changes art indeed contrary to the policy of
Gi cat Britain,
S I A.
(t If the cause of so much misery is to be found in the
stagnation of commercial intercourse, although his ma- wr»'
jesty cannot be expected to hear, with unqualified re¬
gret, that the system devised for the destruction of the
commerce of his subjects has recoiled upon its authors, ~ 1
or its instruments, yet it is neither in the disposition of
his majesty, nor in the character of the people over
whom he reigns, to rejoice in the privations and unhap¬
piness even of the nations which are combined against
him. His majesty anxiously desires the termination of
the sufferings of the continent.
“ The war in which his majesty is engaged, wras en¬
tered into by his majesty for the immediate object of
national safety. It has been prolonged only because no
secure and honourable means of terminating it have hi¬
therto been afforded by his enemies.
“ But in the progress of a wrar, begun for self-defence,
new obligations have been imposed upon his majesty, in
behalf of powers whom the aggressions of a common
enemy have compelled to make common cause with his
majesty, or who have solicited his majesty’s assistance
and support in the vindication of their national inde¬
pendence.
“The interests of the crown of Portugal and of his
Sicilian majesty are confided to his majesty’s friendship
and protection.
“With the king of Sweden his majesty is connected
by the ties of the closest alliance, and by stipulations
which unite their counsels for peace as W’ell as for
war.
“To Spain his majesty is not yet bound by any for¬
mal instrument; but his majesty has, in the face of the
world, contracted with that nation engagements not
less sacred, and not less binding, upon his majesty’s
mind, than the most solemn treaties.
“ His majesty, therefore, assumes that, in an overture
made to his majesty for entering into negociations for a
general peace, the relations subsisting between his ma¬
jesty and the Spanish monarchy have been distinctly ta¬
ken into consideration ; and that the government acting
in the name of his Catholic majesty, Ferdinand VII. is
understood to be a party to any negociation in which
his majesty is invited to engage.” ^
The demand of concurrence in the view's of France War
and Russia made on Sweden was formally repeated in a Sweden,
declaration of the emperor Alexander, published at St
Petersburgh on the 10th February in this year. In
this declaration his imperial majesty intimated to the
king of Sweden, that he was making preparations to in¬
vade his territories ; but that he was ready to change the
measures he was about to take, to measures of precau¬
tion only, if Sweden would, without delay, join Russia
and Denmark in shutting the Baltic against Great Bri¬
tain, until the conclusion of a maritime peace. He
professed that nothing could be more painful to him,
than to see a rupture take place betw’een Sweden an l
Russia; but that his Swedish majesty had it still in his
power to avoid this event, by resolving without delay,
to adopt that course which could alone preserve strict
union and perfect harmony between the two states.
The king of Sweden, however, determined to abide
by the measures which he had for some time pursued,
and to accede to the terms of the convention which had
just been concluded between him and the king of Great
Britain. In consequence of this determination, a Rus-
E U S
ibian army entered Finland in the beginning of March,
under the command of general Buxhovden, and advan¬
ced against Helsingfors, which was occupied by a sin¬
gle battalion of a Swedish regiment. This small force
retired into the fortress of Sweaborg, where they main¬
tained themselves with great bravery till the 17th of
April, when they were obliged to capitulate. The
loss of this fortress, though inconsiderable in itself, so
highly enraged the king of Sweden, that he dismissed
the naval and military commanders who had been con¬
cerned in the capitulation.
On the 27th of April, some slight advantage was
gained over the Russians near Rivolax, by the Swed¬
ish army under General Count Klinspor ; but this was
only a partial gleam of success. The Russians soon
overran almost all Finland, took possession of Wasa,
old and new Carleby, and reduced under subjection
the whole province of which Wasa is the capital. The
army of Field-marshal Klinspor, which originally con¬
sisted of 16,000 regulars, and many boors, was, by
the end of the campaign, reduced to little more than
9000 men, The Russian troops were said to have
committea great excesses, in consequence of which
the king of Sweden addressed the following letter to
the emperor of Russia.
“ Honour and humanity enjoin me to make the most
forcible remonstrances to your imperial majesty against
the numberless cruelties and the injustice committed
by the Russian troops in Swedish Finland. These
proceedings are too well known and confirmed, to re¬
quire from me any proof of their reality ; for the blood
of the ill-fated victims still cries aloud for vengeance
against the abettors of such enormities. Let not your
imperial majesty’s heart be insensible to the represen¬
tations which I find myself compelled to make to you,
in the name of my faithful subjects in Finland. Rut
what is the object of this war, as unjust as it is unna¬
tural ? It is not, I suppose, to excite the strongest
aversion for the Russian name ? Is it criminal in my
subjects in Finland not to have suffered themselves to
be seduced from their allegiance by promises as false
as the principles on which they are founded? Does
it become a sovereign to make loyalty a crime ? I
conjure your imperial majesty to put a stop to the ca¬
lamities and horrors of a war which cannot fail to bring
down on your own person and government the curses
of divine Providence. Half of my dominions in Fin¬
land are already delivered by my brave Finnish troops ;
your majesty’s fleet is shut up in Baltic port, without
the hope of ever getting out, any otherwise than as a
conquest; your flotilla of galleys has recently sustain¬
ed a very severe defeat; and my troops are at tins mo¬
ment landing in Finland, to reinforce those who will
point out to them the road to honour and to glory.
“ Head-quarters, Sept. 7. 1808.
(Signed) “ Gustavus Adolphus.”
The king of Sweden sent some reinforcements to
his army in Finland ; but the forces which should have
supported Klinspor, were foolishly employed in a fruit¬
less attempt to conquer Norway ; and in 1809 the
Swedes were compelled to cede Finland to Russia.
This piovince, including Lapmark, occupies an ex¬
tent of about 120,000 square English miles, and was
estimated to contain 895,000 inhabitants.
Russia continued to appear in the unworthy charac-
Vcl. XVIII. Part 11.
[ 4oi ] r u s
ter of Napoleon's ally ; and when Austria made an ef¬
fort in 1809 to recover her losses, a Russian army ad- ~~
vanced to cooperate with the French. The diversion
which tin’s produced was one cause of the final success
of Napoleon, whose situation after the battle of Asp-
ern was extremely critical. When Austria was at last
compelled to accept of peace on humiliating terms,
Russia received as the reward of her services the
district of Tarnopol in Galicia, with a population of
400,000 souls. This district was restored to Austria
in 1814.
In 1811 hostilities commenced between Russia and
the Porte. It is of little consequence to inquire into
the causes of this rupture : a powerful and ambitious
government in the neighbourhood of a weak one, never
wants pretexts for war. The result might have been
serious, if not fatal to the Porte, had not the prospect
of a more arduous struggle induced Russia to suspend
her efforts in that quarter, and conclude a peace on
condition of receiving a part of Moldavia and Bessa¬
rabia.
The great contest was now approaching which was
to try the resources of Russia, and ultimately to raise
her to unexampled greatness. The seizure by France
of the territories of the Prince of Oldenburg, who was
the emperor of Russia’s brother-in law, on the one
hand ; and the admission of British produce into the
Russian harbours, on the other, furnished the ostensi¬
ble grounds of the quarrel. After some fruitless ne¬
gotiations, Bonaparte dismissed the Russian ambassa¬
dor, and left Paris to join the army, on the 9th of May
1812. This vast army, the largest ever assembled in
modern times, was posted on the frontiers of Poland.
Its numbers have been variously estimated; but, in¬
cluding the auxiliary corps of Austria and Prussia,
and the garrison corps left behind to maintain its com¬
munications, it certainly did not fall short of half a
million of men. In the end of June the advanced corps
passed the Niemen without resistance. From this time
till it arrived at Smolensk on the 15th August, the
French army experienced an obstinate resistance, and
sustained many heavy losses. On the 17th August a
general engagement took place in front of Smolensk,
which terminated in favour of the French, who took
possession of the town after the Russians hau destroy¬
ed the magazines, and burned all the buildings most
likely to be serviceable. At Borodina the Russian
general Kutusof collected all his corps into a mass,
with the resolution of making a desperate effort to
arrest the enemy in his advances to Moscow. The
battle fought here on the 7th September, was cne_ of
the most bloody on record. It ended in the Russian
position being forced, but not without the le ss of forty
or fifty thousand of the assailants, and about an equal
number of Russians. On the 14th September, the
French army arrived at Moscow; but what was their
consternation when they discovered the city to be in
flames in a hundred places ! After a fruitless attempt
to dictate a peace from this ancient capital, Bonaparte
found himself compelled to evacuate the place on the
i9th October, having previously destroyed the Krem¬
lin. The retreat that, followed was the most disas¬
trous to be found in history. Those who were spared
by the sword were destroyed by famine ; and of the
magnificent army that entered Russia, scarcely 50,000
f 3 E leached
Russia.
Russia.
193
Extent of
R U S
reached Wilna on the 8th of December. The noble
'resistance of Russia now roused Prussia and Austria ;
and early in 1813, a league was formed between these
powers, to which Bavaria and other small states ac¬
ceded. The battle of Lcipsic, fought on the 18th
October, led to the final overthrow of the French do¬
mination. In all the transactions which followed, Rus¬
sia bore a leading part. At the congress of Vienna
in 1814, the dutchy of Warsaw, consisting of part of
the original conquests of Austria and Prussia in Po¬
land, was assigned to Russia, who has thus ultimately
obtained about four-fifths of the territory, and three-
fourths of the population of that ancient kingdom.
The dutchy of Warsaw has since been erected into a
kingdom, to which a representative constitution was
given in 1818. Its population is about 2,793,000 up¬
on a surface of 48,000 square English miles. When
we add to this the territories which Russia has gained,
by conquest or cession, in the Crimea, Georgia, Fin¬
land and Moldavia, the whole amount of her acqui.
sitions, during the last forty years, cannot be esti¬
mated at less than nine millions of population, and
450,000 square miles of territory.
The population of Russia, according to Dr Ilassel
population a German writer, (in his Account of the States of
Jan'2 Europe, Weimar 1816), was 45,516,000 in 1815, of
sianempnt.^hich 34,394,000 wrere in Europe, and 8,376,000 in
Asia, the remaining number consisting of the popula¬
tion of the new kingdom of Poland. This population
is very unequally distributed over the country ; some
of the governments in the central part of the empire
being nearly as populous as northern Germany, while
others have scarcely an inhabitant to a square league.
The number of the people is increasing in such a rar
tio as to double itself in about seventy years. It con
sists of about 100 nations, who speak at least forty
different languages. The Sclavonic race, however,
predominates greatly: it is computed to amount to
38 millions, the Finns2,376,000, the Tartars 1,850,000,
the Caucasian nations 1,200,000, the Mongols 300,000,
the Mandshurs 80,000, the Polar tribes, Samoeids,
Tschutzes, &c. 300,000, Colonists including Molda¬
vians, French, Germans, &c. 800,000.
In this population, it is computed that there are
34,000,000 belonging to the Greek church; 5,300,000
Catholics or Schismatic Greeks, in Poland, Lithua¬
nia, &c. ; 2,500,000 Lutherans in Courland, Finland,
and among the German colonists ; 33,000 Reformed ;
70,000 Armenians; 1,800,000 Mahometans; 210,000
Jews ; and 300,000 Worshippers of the Dalai Lama.
The revenue of Russia, according to the writer a-
bove mentioned, was about 215 millions of rubles in
1815. If the paper ruble is meant, this would only
be equal to 10 millions sterling; if the silver ruble, it
would be equal to 36 millions Sterling. The former
sum is evidently too small, "and the latter too large.
By another German writer (Crome), the revenue is
estimated at 250 millions of florins, equal to 25 mil¬
lions sterling. This revenue is derived from domains;
Russis
194
Revenues,
195
402 ] HUS
monopolies of brandy, and other articles; a poll-tax
of two rubles upon each peasant, and five upon each
burgher; imposts on property, customs, &c.
The rapid increase of the population of the Russian
empire, is proved by the proportion of deaths to births.
Thus, in 1803, the number of marriages was 300,470;
that of the births of the same year 1,270,341 ; and that
of the deaths only 791,973: so that the number of
births exceeded that of deaths by 478,368; and the
population had of course, in that year, increased near¬
ly half a million (l).
In the year 1804, the number of marriages was
311,798; of births 715,334 males, and 642,233 fe¬
males, making 1,357,567 ; and of deaths 439,137 males,
and 380,681 females, making a total of 819,818; so
that in the course of that year, the number of births
exceeded that of deaths by 537,749.
The government of Russia appears always to have Govcm-
been despotic ; and we have no traces of any legisla-ment-
tive power distinct from that of the sovereign, as what
is called the senate is only the supreme court of judi¬
cature. Vasilii Schuiskoy, who obtained the crown
in 1606 (see N° 80), pretended to obtain it in conse¬
quence of a free election by the senate and people ;
but we have seen that his coronation was produced by
intrigues among the chiefs ; and there appears in the
Russian history no vestige of any national council,
parliament, or estates of the empire, far less of a free
elective diet, like that which distinguished the repub¬
lic of Poland. The emperor is absolute lord, not on¬
ly over all the estates of the empire, but also of the
lives of his subjects. The greatest noblemen call
themselves his slaves, and execute his commands with
the most implicit obedience. The common people re¬
vere him as something supernatural; and never men¬
tion his name, or any thing immediately belonging to
him, without marks of the most profound respect and
awful veneration.
During the reign of Catharine II. the immediate ad¬
ministration of affairs was nominally vested in what was
called her imperial majesty’s council. This was com¬
posed of the principal officers and persons of the em¬
pire, namely, of general feldt-marshals, generals in
chief, and actual privy-counsellors : at present they
are 14 in number; the fifteenth fills the place of a
chancery-director, and has a secretary under him.
The vice-chancellor of the empire is a member of this
council. The post of grand-chancellor is sometimes
suffered to remain vacant.
The cabinet, to which belongs the care of the sove¬
reign’s private affairs or concerns, as likewise the re¬
ception of petitions, consists generally of ten persons,
the high-steward of the household, privy-counsellors,
major-generals, and state-counsellors, with their seve¬
ral subordinate officers and chanceries. It also ex¬
amines despatches, passes accounts, &c.; takes cogni¬
sance of the produce of siiver mines, &c Whoever
is not satisfied with a decision of the senate, may ap¬
peal by petition to the cabinet; and in this respect
it
(l) It is curious to remark how many people of a very advanced age died in Russia during this year.
Thus, among the deaths are reckoned 1145 between 95 and 100 ; 158 between 100 and 105; 90 between
105 and 110; 34between 110 and 115; 36 between 115 and 120; 15 between 120 and 125; 5 between
125 and 130 ; and 1 between 145 and 150.
issia.
V. ^
•j- oliC s
If,
vi i.
p. I.
96
I -’rial
ti; •
97
y-
R U S [ 403 ] R U S
it docs the office of a supreme tribunal, in which the
^sovereign in person decides.
In extraordinary cases, it sometimes happens that a
special high court of justice is appointed, not subsordi-
nate to the senate, but immediatly under the sovereign.
The presidents are usually taken from the imperial col¬
leges and other eminent stations, and likewise from
among the members of the synod. Where the alleged
offence is of an extremely heinous nature, the examina¬
tion is first made by particular persons appointed for
that purpose, and the protocol is laid before the com¬
missioners for their judgments, f
In number of titles the emperor of Russia rivals the
proudest monarchs of the east. In the reign of Catha¬
rine II. the imperial titles, when written at length, ran
thus;—“ By the grace of God, Catharine II. empress
and autocratrix of all the Russias, of'Mosco, Kief, Vla¬
dimir, Novgorod ; tzarina of Casan, tzarina of Astra¬
khan, tzarina of Siberia, tzarina of the Tauridan Cher¬
sonese, lady of Pscove, and grand dutchess of Smolensk;
princess of Esthonia, Livonia, Karelia, Tver, Yugoria,
Permia, Viatka, Bulgaria, and other countries; lady
and grand dutchess of Novgorod of the lowr country, of
Tschernigof, Reazan, Polotsk, Rostoff, Yaroslavl, Bi-
elosero, Udoria, Obdoria, Kondia, Vitepsk, Mstislavl;
sovereign of the wffiole northern region, and lady of
the country of Iveria, of the Kartalinian and Grusinian
tzars, and of the Kabardinian country, of the Tscher-
kassians, and of the mountain princes, and of others
hereditary lady and sovereign.
The Russian army, in time of peace, exceeds that
of any other power in Europe. In 1815, it amounted
to 620,415 men.
I. Guards, 3 battalions infantry - 12,150
7 regiments horse - - 4,450
artillery - . - qqq
II. Field Troops.
Infantry, 141 regiments of the line,
and 3 regiments marines - 317,360
Regular cavalry, 58 regiments - 57,000
Field artillery - - . 29,522
Engineer corps - - - 1,113
III. Garrison Troops.
Infantry - - - _ 72,800
Artillery * - - - 11,500
IV. Invalids . - . - . 13,920
V. Irregulars ----- 100,000
620,415
In addition to these, the national guards or land-
wehr amount to 612,000 men ; so that Russia has al¬
together about a million and a quarter of men under
arms.
The Russian regiments are usually encamped from
the end of May to the end of August. The soldiers
are allowed no straw in their tents, but each man lies
on the bare and often wet ground. When he mounts
guard it is for a foi’tnight together; but wffien he is
taken ill, he is attended with the greatest care by the
medical officers appointed by government. No ex¬
pense is spared in providing hospitals, for which pur¬
pose large buildings have been constructed in the prin¬
cipal towns, and a proper number of physicians and
surgeons attached to each. Here the patients are sup¬
plied with medicines and diet suited to the nature of lins.ua.
their complaints. Still, however, the Russian soI-u~^v,~~J
diers enter the hospitals with reluctance, and leave
them as soon as possible.
Notwithstanding the great population of the Russian
empire, it sometimes requires the utmost stretch of ar¬
bitrary power to raise levies for recruiting the army,
as the lower orders of the people are more averse to
the military profession in Russia than in almost any
other country. This is the more extraordinary, as the
pay is tolerably good, and they are furnished in abun¬
dance with the necessaries of life. It is true that leave
of absence can seldom be obtained, and each soldier
is bound to serve lor 25 years. The discipline is se¬
vere, and the subaltern officers may, on their own au¬
thority, inflict punishment on any private, to the ex¬
tent of 20 strokes of a cane. While the soldiers re¬
main in garrison, they are generally not allowed to
marry ; but when permitted to marry, there is an ex¬
tra allowance for their wives and children. * * Tooke's
There is one absurdity in the dress of the Russian Catke-
soldiers, especially in that of the officers, which merits rine ?/•
notice. Their waists are so pinched by the tightness vo*'
of their clothes, and a leathern belt over the coat, as
must certainly impede their respiration, and otherwise
affect their health, j- f See Por-
Of the regular troops, the imperial foot guards areTra~
the most respectable. Their uniform consists of a
green coat turned up with red, with white pantaloons,
and very high caps or hats, surmounted with a black
feather or tuft of hair. Of the other troops, the most
remarkable are the Kozaks, which form the principal
cavalry of the empire. Of those there are several va¬
rieties, but the most striking are the Donsky Kozaks.
The persons, air, and appointments of these troops
seem completely at variance with those of the horses
on which they are mounted. The men are fierce and
robust, generally dressed in a blue jacket and panta¬
loons or loose trowsers, with a black cap surmounted
by a kind of red turban. They are distinguished by
formidable whiskers, and are armed with a sabre, a
brace of pistols, and a long spear. Their horses
are mean in shape, slouching in motion, and have
every appearance of languor and debility. They
are, however, extremely hardy and tractable; will
travel incalculable journeys, and remain exposed,
without inconvenience, to all the vicissitudes of the
weather. ios
The navy of Russia is respectable; but since her rup- Navy,
ture with Great Britain, it has become nearly useless.
It generally consists of several detached fleets, of which
one belongs to the Baltic, and another to the Black
sea ; the former having its rendezvous at Cronstadt,
the latter at Sevastopol and Kherson. There is also ge¬
nerally a small squadron on the Caspian. In 1794, the
Baltic fleet consisted of 40 ships of the line, and 15
frigates ; while that of die Black sea was composed of
8 ships of the line, and 12 frigates. The Caspian
squadron consists of three or four small frigates, and
a few corvettes. Besides these fleets, there was lately
at Odessa in the Black sea, a flotilla consisting of 25
very large vessels, and 60 vessels of inferior size, to
serve as transports for conveying troops. The Rus¬
sians are said to be averse to a seafaring life, but the
sailors are extremely brave. In point of neatness, the
3 hi 2 Russian
‘Russia.
199
Coins.
200
Weights.
201
Measures.
R U S r 404 ] 11 u s
Russian ships are inferior to those of any other Eu¬
ropean nation.
As connected with the government of the empire,
we shall here notice the coins, weights, and measures,
all of which are regulated by government.
The standard according to which the value of the
Russian coins is usually estimated, is the ruble ; but
as the value of this coin, with respect to the money of
other countries, varies according to the course of ex¬
change between these countries and Russia, it is ne¬
cessary to take into account the value of the ruble as
it stands at any particular time. When Sir John
Carr was in Russia in ISOi, the ruble was worth only
2s. 8d. of English money, and as the course of ex¬
change between Great Britain and Russia is now a-
gainst the latter country, we may perhaps estimate
the ruble at about 2s. Keeping this in view, the fol¬
lowing table by Mr Tooke will show the value of the
Russian coins.
Gold.
Silver.
Copper.
" Imperial,
Half imperial,
Ruble,
Half ruble,
Quarter ruble,
^ Twenty-copeck piece,
Fifteen-copeck piece,
Grievnik,
Five-copeck piece,
f Petaki,
I Grosch,
<j Copeck,
| Denushka,
L Polushka,
10 rubles.
5
100 copecks.
50
25
20
15
10
5
5
2
1
i
a
1
4)
It is not easy to compute the Russian weights ac¬
cording to the standard of either avoirdupois or troy
weight. The least Russian weight is called solotnik,
and weighs about 68 troy grains, or a little more than
one troy dram. Three zolotniks make a lole, and 32
lotes or 96 solotniks, a Russian pound. Thus the Rus¬
sian is to the troy pound, as 6528 is to 5760. Forty-
five Russian pounds are equal to 38 Hamburgh pounds.
It is usual in Russia to estimate the parts of a pound
by solotniks, and not by lotes; thus, any thing that
weighs 7 lotes, is said to weigh 27 solotniks.
A Russian pood weighs 40 Russian pounds, or 3840
solotniks, and is by Mr Tooke reckoned at 36 English
pounds avoirdupois.
The measures of Russia, as in other countries, may
be divided into measures of length and measures of ca¬
pacity. The former are easily estimated in English
measure, as the English foot was adopted by Peter the
Great, and is now the standard for the whole empire.
It is also divided into 12 inches, but every inch is di¬
vided into 10 lines, and each line into 10 scruples.
Twenty-eight English inches make an arshine, and
three arshines one sajene, or Russian fathom, equal
to 7 feet English.
A Russian verst is equal to 3500 English feet; and
a geographical mile contains 6 versts, 475 sajenes, and
7.25 arshines.
Superficial measure is sometimes estimated by square
versts and sajenes, but more commonly by desaettines ;
each of which is equal to 2400 square sajenes, or
SI7,600 English square feet.
Of dry measures of capacity, the smallest is the Russia,
ga?-nitza, osmuka, or osmuschka, which is a measure 1 v~-
capable of holdings Russian pounds of dried rye, and
is used chiefly in measuring out corn for horses. A
poltchetverick contains 614^ Paris cubic inches, or
half a pood of dried rye. A polosmina contains 8
poltchetvericks, or four tchetvericks. A tonne of
corn at lleval holds 5964 French cubic inches; at
Riga, 6570; at Narva, 8172; and in Viborg it is
equal to the weight of 6 pood. A Riga lof measures
3285 French cubic inches, and is equal to 27 cans ;
and a last is equal to 24 tonnes.
Of liquid measure the vedro contains 610 French
cubic inches, and is equal to 5 Riga cans ; a krushka
or oslim is and a tchetverk ^ of a vedro ; a stoff is
about 60 French cubic inches ; 19 vedro make 1 hog¬
shead, or 6 ankers, and 57 vedro amount to 152 Eng¬
lish gallons, each containing 233 French cubic inches. 202 I
We have seen that in the earlier periods of Russian Laws,
history, the empire was regulated by no other laws
than the will of the sovereign, as promulgated in his
ukases; and that even the first Russian code of laws,
viz. those published by Ivan IV. in the 16th century,
contain rather the arbitrary orders of that monarch,
than such regulations as might have been the result of
the deliberations of a national assembly. The code
of Ivan was greatly improved by Alexei Mikhailovitch ;
but the late empress has the merit of giving to the em¬
pire a new and rational code, chiefly drawn up by her
own hands. Of the precise nature of the laws con¬
tained in this code very little is known, as all conver¬
sation on the laws of the empire is either forbidden,
or is considered as indelicate. It is not indeed ot
much consequence to ascertain the present existing
laws, as they are subject to continual alterations. 20’
In 1775, the late empress made a complete new Adminij]
modelling of the internal government in a form of great straiion h
simplicity and uniformity. By that reglement she di-JLbtlu'
vided the whole empire into governments, as we have
already mentioned, placing over each, or, where they
are of less extent, over two contiguous governments,
a governor-general with very considerable powers.
She subdivided each government into provinces and
districts; and for the better administration of justice,
erected in them various courts of law, civil, criminal,
and commercial, analogous to those which are found
in other countries. She established likewise in every
government, if not in every province, a tribunal of
conscience, and in every district a chamber for the
protection of orphans. Amidst so many wise institu¬
tions, a chamber for the administration of her imperial
majesty’s revenues ivas not forgotten to be established
in each government, and a tribunal ot police in each
district. The duty of the governor-general, who is
not properly a judge, but the guardian of the laws, is
to take care that the various tribunals in his govern¬
ment discharge their respective duties, to protect the
oppressed, to enforce the administration of the laws ;
and when any tribunal shall appear to have pronounced
an irregular sentence, to stop the execution till he
make a report to the senate, and receive her majesty s
orders. It is his business likewise to see that the
taxes be regularly paid ; and, on the frontiers of the
empire, that the proper number of troops be kept up,
and that they be attentive to their duty.
BUS
issia. This reglement contains other institutions, as well as
^ 'rmm~J many directions for the conducting of lawsuits in the
different courts, and the administration of justice, which
do her majesty the highest honour; but the general want
of morals, and what we call a sense of honour, in every
order of men through this vast empire, must make the
wisest regulations of little avail. Russia is perhaps the
only nation in Europe where the law is not an incor¬
porated profession. There are no seminaries where a
practitioner may be educated. Any man who Avill pay
the fees of office may become an attorney, and any man
who can find a client may plead at the bar. The
judges are not more learned than the pleaders. They
are not qualified for their offices by any kind of educa¬
tion, nor are they necessarily chosen from those who
have frequented courts, and been in the practice of
pleading. A general, from a successful or an equivo¬
cal campaign, may be instantly placed at the head of a
court of justice ; and in the absence of the imperial
court from St Petersburgh, the commanding officer in
that city, whoever he may be, presides ex officio in the
high court of justice. The other courts generally
change their presidents every year. Many inconve¬
niences must arise from this singular constitution ; but
fewer, perhaps, than we are apt to imagine. The ap¬
pointment to so many interior governments makes the
Russian nobility acquainted with the gross of the ordi¬
nary business of law-courts; and a statute or imperial
edict is law in every case. The great obstacles to the
administration of justice are the contrariety of the laws,
and the venality of the judges. From inferior to supe¬
rior courts there are two appeals ; and, in a great pro¬
portion of the causes, the reversal of the sentence of the
inferior court subjects its judges to a heavy fine, unless
they can produce an edict in full point in support of
their decision. This indeed they seldom find any dif¬
ficulty in doing; for there is scarcely a case so simple
that edicts may not be found clear and precise for both
parties ; and therefore the judges, sensible of their safe¬
ty, are very seldom incorruptible. To the principle of
honour, which often guides the conduct of judges, in
other nations, they are such absolute strangers, that an
officer has been seen sitting in state and distributing
justice from a bench to which he was chained by an
iron collar round his neck, for having the day before
been detected in conniving at smuggling. This man
seemed not to be ashamed of the crime, nor did any
one avoid his company in the evening.
Few crimes are capital in Russia; murder may be
atoned for by paying a sum of money ; nay, the civil
magistrate takes no cognisance of murder, without hav¬
ing previously received information at the suit of some
individuals. Criminals were punished with torture and
the most cruel deaths till the reign of Catharine I. when
a more merciful system took place ; and this the late
:ot emPress confirmed by law.
1 ish- The usual punishments for crimes of inferior magni-
” ts- tude are, imprisonment, and banishment to the deserts
ol Siberia; and for crimes of greater moment, that
most dreadful of all corporal punishments, the knout.
The exact nature of this punishment has not been well
understood in this country. We shall therefore explain
it, from the information of one of our latest travellers
,, -05 in Russia.
front. r];ile apparatus for inflicting the punishment of the
II u s
knout consists principally, of a whip, composed of a Russia,
wooden handle about a foot long, very strong, and ——
hound tightly round with leather, and having attached
to it a stout and weighty thong, longer than the handle,
and formed of a tapering strip of buffalo’s hide, well
dried, and about \ inch thick, fastened to the handle in
the manner of a flail. Besides this, the executioner is
furnished with a pair of iron pincers for the purpose of
slitting the nose, and another instrument shaped like a
round brush, strongly set with iron teeth, for marking
the forehead, or any other part of the body, according
to the terms of the sentence.
The infliction of the punishment, in a case where it
was peculiarly severe, (viz. that of a servant who had
murdered his master) is thus described by Mr ICer
Porter.
“ The poor wretch, attended by part of the police,
had been walked through the streets, in order to show
him to the populace, and to strike them with horror at
his guilt. As soon as the procession arrived in front of
the troops, a circle was formed, and preparations made
for the instant commencement of the execution. A pa¬
per being read aloud in the Russ language, which, most
probably, was an account of his crime and sentence, he
was speedily stripped of his clothes, leaving on his per¬
son only a pair of loose trowsers. In the midst of this
silent groupe (and awful indeed was their silence) stood,
firm and well secured, a block of wood, about three
feet high, having, three cavities in the top, to receive
the neck and arms. Being fully prepared for his dread¬
ful punishment, the unhappy man crossed himself, re--
peating his gosperdian pomelia with the greatest devo¬
tion. The executioner then placed him writh his breast
to the hoard, strongly binding him to it by the neck
and the upper parts of his arms, passing the rope close
under the bend of both knees. Thus bowed forward,
the awful moment approached. The first stroke was.
struck, and each repeated lash tore the flesh from the
hone. A few seconds elapsed between each ; and for
the first ten or twelve, the poor sufferer roared most
terribly ; but soon becoming faint and sick, the cry
died away into groans; and in a few minutes after, no¬
thing was heard but the bloody splash of the knout, on
the senseless body of the wretched man.
“ After full an hour had been occupied in striking
these dreadful blows (and more than 200 were given
him), a signal was made from the head officer of the
police, and the criminal was raised a little from the
block. Not the smallest sign of life seemed to remain ;
indeed, so long did it appear to have fled, that during
the half of the lashing, he had sunk down as low as the
ligatures which bound him would allow. The execu¬
tioner took the pale and apparently lifeless body by the
heard, while his assistant held an instrument like a brush
with iron teeth, and placing it a little below his temple,
struck it with the utmost force, and drove its pointed
fangs into the flesh. The opposite temple and forehead
received the same application. The parts thus pierced,
were then rubbed with gunpowder, to remain, should
the mangled sufferer survive, a perpetual mark of his
having undergone the punishment.
“ You would suppose that rigour had exhausted all
her torments, and justice was now appeased : But no ;
another punishment yet remained, to deprive the nose of
its nostrils. The inflicting pincers, something like mon¬
strous-.
[ 405 ]
I! U S
Faissia. strous curling irons, were inserted up the nose of him
' /*—' whom I supposed dead (and indeed I only endured the
latter part of the sight, from having imagined that these
inflictions were directed to one already past the sense of
pain); the performer of this dreadful sentence, aided
by his companion, actually tore each from his head in
a way more shocking than can be described. The
acuteness of this last torture, brought back sense to the
torpid body :—What was my horror, to see the writh¬
ings of the poor mangled creature ; and my astonish¬
ment, as soon as he was unbound, to see him rise by the
assistance of the men, and walk to a cart ready to re¬
turn him to his prison. From whence, if he did not
die, he was immediately to be conveyed to Siberia,
* porter's there to labour for life. His lost strength seemed to
Travelling revive every moment, and he sat in the vehicle perfect-
Sketches, ]y upright, being covered with his caftan, which he
v°K n. himself held upon his shoulders, talking very compos-
P *206 cdly with those who accompanied him. *
Religion. The established religion of Russia is that of the Greek
church, which differs little from the Roman Catholic
persuasion, except in a few rites and ceremonies. The
people are very strict in the observance of the external
forms of worship, as attendance on mass, keeping nu¬
merous fasts, performance of domestic devotions morn¬
ing and evening, confession, receiving the sacrament,
&c. To build churches is considered as a meritorious
act; and hence even the small towns abound in these
religious edifices ; and as, from the severity of the win¬
ter, it is necessary to heat the churches during that
season, it is not uncommon to see two churches in the
same churchyard; one used for winter, and the other
for summer worship. The clergy are held in great
honour; and every one meeting a priest kisses his
hand, in return for which he receives his blessing with
the sign of the cross. From the external ceremonies
of the Greek church, we shall select those of baptism,
207 marriage, and burial.
-Baptism. As soon as a child is born, the priest repairs to the
chamber of the mother, and offers up a thanksgiving
for her and her infant. On the eighth day the child is
carried to the church, and receives its name, in addi¬
tion to which is given that of the saint to which the
day is dedicated. Thirty-two days after this the puri¬
fication of the mother takes place, after which succeeds
the baptism itself. The child is dipped three times,
and then immediately anointed on several parts of the
body, and signed with the cross. Seven days after
unction, the body of the child is washed, and its head
is shorn in the form of the cross ; and, in general, a
little cross of gold or other precious material, is sus-
208 pended from its neck.
Marriage The marriage ceremony in the Greek church consists
ceremony. 0f tilree parts. The first office is that of the espousals
or betrothing. The parties pledge themselves to be
true to each other, by the interchange of rings; and the
priest before whom the vows are made, presents lighted
tapers to the contracting pair. The liturgy being said,
the priest places the parties who come to be betrothed,
before the door which leads into the sanctuary, while
two rings are laid on the holy table. The priest makes
the sign of the cross three times on the heads of the be¬
trothed couple; and then touching their foreheads with
tire lighted tapers, presents one to each. Then follows
Jfchc benediction, with a few short prayers, after which
R U S
the priest takes the rings, and gives one to the man, Eusil
and the other to the woman, with a short address, which L—v p
he repeats thrice to each, signs them on the forehead
with the rings, and puts these on the forefingers of
their right hands. The espoused couple then exchange
their rings, and after a long prayer from the priest,
are dismissed.
The second rite is called the matrimonial coronation,
as in this the bride and bridegroom are crowned, to in¬
dicate their triumph over all irregular desires. The be¬
trothed parties enter the sanctuary with lighted tapers
in their hands, the priest preceding with the censor sing¬
ing the nuptial psalm, in which he is accompanied by
the choristers. After being assured of the inclination of
each party to receive the other in wedlock, the priest
gives them the holy benediction, and after three invoca¬
tions, takes the crowns, and places one on the head of
the bridegroom, and the other on that of the bride.
After this is read St Paul’s epistle on the duties of mar¬
riage, with some other portions of Scripture, and seve¬
ral prayers. The cup is then brought, and blessed by
the priest, who gives it thrice both to the bride and
bridegroom, after which he takes them by the hand,
and leads them in procession, attended by bridemen
and maids, three times round a circular spot, turning
from west to east. The crowns are now taken off their
heads ; and after proper addresses, and a short prayer,
the company congratulate the parties : these salute
each other, and the ceremony of coronation is termi¬
nated by a holy dismission.
The third rite is called that of dissolving the crowns,
and takes place on the eighth day. It consists of lit¬
tle more than a prayer for the comfort and happiness !
of the married pair, after which the bride is conducted
to the bridegroom’s house. goj ]
On the death of a person, after the usual offices of Funo I
closing the eyes and mouth, and washing the body, arese™
performed, the priest is sent for to perfume the deceased
with incense, while prayers and hymns are said and
sung beside the corpse. The body is watched for a
longer or shorter time, according to the rank of the de¬
ceased ; and when all things are ready for the inter¬
ment, those relations who are to act as mourners and
pall-bearers, are called together. Before the coffin is
closed, the ceremony of the kiss must be performed, as
the last respect paid to the body. The priest first, and
then the relations and friends, take their farewell, by
kissing the body of the deceased, or the coffin in which
it is contained. The funeral service then begins with
the priest pouring his incense from the holy censer on
the coffin and the attendants, after which he gives the
benediction, and the choristers chant suitable responses.
The coffin is then carried into the church, the priests
preceding with a lighted taper, and the deacon with
the censer. When the procession reaches the sanctuary,
the body is set down ; the 91st psalm is sung, followed
by several anthems and prayers. The corpse is then
laid into the grave, while the funeral anthem to the
Trinity is sung over it; and the ceremony of sprinkling
earth on the coffin, usual in most countries, is perform¬
ed. After this, oil is poured from a lamp on the coffin,
and incense again diffused. The grave is next covered
in, and the ceremony ends with a prayer to the Saviour
for the rest and eternal happiness of the deceased.
Those who wish for a more minute account of these
and
[ 406 ]
i.
Lii
ra:
M'
rie
Tc
U
Pr
sta
tar,
11^
R U S [ 407 ] R U S
ss'a. and other ceremonies of the Greek church, may consult
/ 1 Mr Ker Porter’s Travelling Sketches, voL i. letters 8,
,0 9, and 10.
chie- The hierarch)rof the Russians consists of three me-
y. tropolitans, seven archbishops, and 18 bishops. We
have seen that there was originally at the head of the
church a patriarch, who possessed all the power of the
Roman pope. This office was abolished by Peter I.
The whole number of ecclesiastics belonging to the
church of Russia, is computed at 67,900, and the
! number of churches at 18,350.
ste- There are several monasteries and convents in the
Russian empire, where the monks and nuns, as in Ro¬
man Catholic countries, lead a life of seclusion and in¬
dolence, though their inhabitants are not subject to
such severe restrictions as those of the Catholic persua¬
sion. The heads of the monasteries are called archi¬
mandrites or hegumens, the former being nearly syno¬
nymous with abbot, the latter with prior. The supe¬
rior of a nunnery is called hegumena. The principal
religious order is that of St Basil; and the chief mo¬
nasteries are those of St Alexander Nefsky at St
2 Petersburg!!, and Divitchy at Mosco.
aion. Formerly no religion, except the Greek, was tolerat¬
ed in Russia ; but, since the reign of Peter I., all re¬
ligions and sects are tolerated throughout the empire.
It was indeed with great difficulty that Peter could be
prevailed on to allow the free exercise of the Roman
Catholic religion ; but this is now not only tolerated,
but is dignified by the establishment of Russian Catholic
bishops. Even the despised Jews are permitted to hold
3 their synagogues, and the Mahometans their mosques.
iage. The Russian language is a dialect of the ancient Go¬
thic, and is extremely difficult of pronunciation by a
southern European; though in the mouth of the politer
Russians, it appears by no means deficient in melody.
It is very difficult to acquire, as it abounds with extra¬
ordinary sounds and numerous anomalies. The cha¬
racters amount to at least 36, some of which resemble
those of the Greek language, while others are peculiar
to the Russ. Among other singularities there is one
character to express sch, and another ssch, which lat¬
ter sound is said to be scarcely capable of enunciation,
except by the most barbarous of the Russian natives.
4 See Philology, N° 220.
11 Since the accession of the emperor Alexander, the
^l1' literature of Russia has undergone a material improve-
u ment. Incredible indeed, was the pressure of the ri¬
gorous genius-destroying restrictions and prohibitory
edicts under the reign of Paul, of the state of whose
mind, continually tormented with suspicion, but in other
respects endowed with many good qualities, so striking
a picture has been drawn by Kotzebue, in The most Re¬
markable Year of 'his Life, of which a Russian transla¬
tion has been published. During that inauspicious sea¬
son, only a few plants sprang up here and there in the
garden of Russian literature, chiefly in Petersburgh, and
for the glorification of imperial institutions. Among
these, for instance, may be reckoned the Cabinet of Pe¬
ter the Great, written in the Russian language by Jo¬
seph Bieliajeu, under librarian to the Academy of Sci¬
ences, and splendidly printed in 1800, at the expense
of the academy, in three large quarto volumes. It is
intended to be a catalogue of the books, natural curiosi¬
ties, works of art, medals, pictures, and other treasures,
3
which the academy founded by Peter the Great posses* Russia,
ses; but it is to be feared, that this list itself will swell —-y—
to a library, if the succeeding parts should be w’ritten in
the same spirit as the first three. The first volume con¬
tains only the relicks of Peter the Great, with five
plates, comprehending even the productions of his turn¬
ing lathe, which are preserved, as is wrell known, in a
separate apartment. The second volume gives some,
but extremely defective accounts of the Academic Li¬
brary, in which there are 29641 Russian works (and
among them not fewer than 305 Russian romances!)
and 1350 MSS. (236 of them Chinese, and 410 relat¬
ing to the history of Russia). In the third volume, the
cabinet of medals is illustrated. It is really astonishing
how many curiosities and exquisite works of art have
from every part of Europe been collected in St Peters¬
burgh, especially under the reign of Catherine II.
What treasures of art and literature are to be found
only in the imperial hermitage ! Here, for instance,
is the most valuable and complete collection of ancient
engraved gems, of which the celebrated collection of
the duke of Orleans composes only a small part. Here
the libraries of Voltaire and Diderot are placed, con¬
taining their MSS. and manuscript notes on the mar¬
gins of the books. M. Von Kohler, a German, is the
keeper of these treasures ; and the antiquarian writings
which he has published in the French and German
languages, sufficiently prove him to be a proper person
for such an office. It is, however, an unfortunate cir¬
cumstance for the rest of Europe, that it is difficult to
learn wdiat has been swallowed up by these reposito¬
ries on the banks of the Neva. It is therefore to be
lamented, that the splendid description of the Michaelo-
witzian palace has since the death of Paul been discon¬
tinued. From what Kotzebue has said concerning it
in the second volume of the account of his exile, one may
guess what immense quantities of curiosities it contain¬
ed. At present only three large engravings of the ex¬
ternal views of the now deserted palace, are to be ob¬
tained at the price of 40 rubles. Of Gotschiza too, the
favourite residence of Paul, and which the new emperor
has presented to the empress dowager, we have a view
in six large sheets, engraved before the death of the
late emperor, and giving us at least a general idea of
the plan of the extensive pleasure grounds, &c.
There is no longer any doubt that the new university
of Dorpat, wdiich has already cost the nobility of Es-
thonia and Livonia more than 100,000 rubles, will at
length be established by authority. Several learned men
were invited from foreign countries to fill the profes¬
sional chairs, and some of them had arrived in the be¬
ginning of 1802. The military academy, which has
likewise been erected at Dorpat, has received great
favour and support from the emperor. Full permission
is now again granted to visit foreign schools and uni¬
versities; and in consequence, about 70 Livonians,
Esthonians, and Courlanders, now prosecute theii stu¬
dies at the university of Jena ; and proportionate num¬
bers at the universities of Germany.
The book-trade, which had been entirely annihilated,
has for the most part broken the iron fetteis impost ti b^
the licensers 5 it is indeed a highly beneficial change,
that no Tumanskow, and other Russian zealots, but
Germans, are appointed to examine German books.
Here, however, many things still require to be correct-
H u S [ 408 1 HUS
Tiustia. eci. The new emperor, notwithstanding his almost in-
credible activity, cannot at once discover all the abuses
find improper applications of some of the laws, nor by
an emmeno'i ukase, open to every innoxious book (as
was the case with respect to Kotzebue’s Most Remark¬
able Year) the gate that had been shut against it by
the licensers. For Kotzebue’s work would not have
been permitted to pass, if the procurator-general in St
Petersburgh had not laid a copy before the emperor
himself, and received a particular ukase in its favour.
Another great impediment to literature is, that all
books must be imported by sea; and consequently dur¬
ing the winter no new publications can be procured
from abroad. The greatest difficulty in procuring
books, however, arises from the circumstance that a
Russian ukase always remains in full force till it be ex¬
pressly repealed by another. Previous to the reign of
Paul, the examination and licensing of books was en¬
trusted to the chief magistrates of the respective capitals;
but Paul appointed inferior licensers for that purpose,
and the same regulation continues, unless altered by a
particular ukase. Under Paul, nothing was permitted
to be printed in the large printing-office of Iteval, ex¬
cept advertisements, playbills, hymns for the Reval
hymn book, and the weekly newspaper, the articles con¬
tained in which were subjected to a strict previous exa¬
mination; and the same restrictions continued to be en¬
forced in 1802, though repugnant to the emperor’s in¬
tentions, because no emmenai ukase had been published
to abolish them. A wine merchant in Reval was de¬
sirous of having some tickets printed, for the purpose of
distinguishing his different sorts of w ine. At first the
licenser would not permit any of the French wines to
have their names printed, and when at last he relented
with respect to this point, the printing of the words St
I kcr s wine, and bishop, a well-known drink composed
ot wine and oranges, was deemed by him quite inadmis¬
sible, because St denotes saintship, and ought not to be
profaned by being affixed to a wine bottle, and because
bishop denotes an ecclesiastical dignity, and of course
* Monthly should not be exposed to a similar profanation. *
A new scll0f)1 practical jurisprudence has lately
pw2i5.U’ ,>een established at St Petersburgh. Here there are
four professors who give lectures on the law of nature
and nations, on the Roman law, on ethics, and on the
history ot Russia, besides a course of lectures on the
commission of legislation. All the lectures are in the
Russian language.
The Academy of Sciences at St Petersburgh have
formed the plan of a rule for the manner of writing
Russian words with foreign characters, and foreign
words with Russian characters. This plan consists of
a vocabulary, drawn up by a committee of the aca¬
demy, and composed of two alphabets, German and
French, by means of which the proper orthography
and pronunciation of words in the Russian language
are rendered intelligible to foreigners.
For a fuller account of the language and literature of
Russia, we may refer our readers to Tooke’s Victv of
the Russian Empire, vol. iii. p. 572., and his Life of
215 Catharine II. vol. iii. p. 394.
State of the Notwithstanding the partiality of the court of St Pe-
6ta<wfan tersburgh for dramatic exhibitions, no idea was enter¬
tained of erecting a Russian theatre in the capital till
the year 1756. Feodor Wolchof, the son of a merchant
of Yaroslavl had, in 1749, erected a theatre in his native Rusal
city, in consequence of the delight with which he had'—y-
been inspired on witnessing the exhibitions of the Ger¬
man players at the capital. Accordingly, when he
returned home, he fitted up a large saloon in his father’s
house for a theatre, and painted it himself; then mus¬
tering a small company, consisting of his four brothers
and some other young persons, he represented sometimes
the sacred pieces of the bishop Dimitri Rostoffschy,
sometimes the tragedies of Sumarokof and Lomonossof,
which had just appeared ; and at other times, comedies
and farces of his own composition. The undertaking of
Wolchof met with the greatest encouragement. Not
satisfied with lavishing applause upon him, the neigh¬
bouring nobility furnished him in 1750 with the requi¬
site funds for erecting a public theatre, where money
was taken for admission. The report of this novelty
reached St Petersburgh, and in 1752 the empress Eli¬
zabeth sent for Wolchof’s company. He was placed,
with several of his young actors, in the school of the
cadets, to improve himself in the Russian language,
and in particular to practise declamation.
At length, in 1756, the first Russian theatre was for¬
mally established by the exertions of Sumarokof, and
the actors paid by the court. A German company ap¬
peared in 1757, but it was broken up by the arrival of
an Italian opera. The opera BufFa formed in 1759 at
Mosco had no better success; its failure was favour¬
able to that which remained at St Petersburgh, and
which received so much the more encouragement. The
fireworks displayed on the stage after the performance,
afforded great amusement to the public, and dievv to¬
gether more company than the music. At the coro¬
nation of the empress Catharine II., the Russian court
theatre accompanied her to Mosco, but soon returned
to St Petersburgh, where it has been fixed ever since.
The taste for dramatic exhibitions had at this period be¬
come so general, that not only the most distinguished
persons oi the court of the two capitals performed Rus¬
sian plays, but Italian, French. German, and even Eng¬
lish theatres arose, and maintained their ground for a
longer or shorter time. -Catharine the Great, desirous
that the people should likewise participate in this plea¬
sure, ordered a stage to be erected in the great place-in
the wood of Brumberg. There both the actors and the
plays were perfectly adapted to the populace that heard
them. What w ill seem extraordinary is, that this per¬
formance sometimes attracted more distinguished ama¬
teurs ; and it is perhaps the only theatre where specta¬
tors have been seen in carriages of four and six horses.
But what is still more surprising is, to see actors enno¬
bled as a reward for their talents, as was the case in
1762, with the two brothers Feodor and Gregory Wol¬
chof. The former died the follow ing year, while still
very young. His reputation as a great tragic and co¬
mic actor wall perhaps one day be considerably abated ;
hut the Russians will ever recollect with gratitude that
he was the real founder of the Russian stage.
They will likewise remember the services of Suma¬
rokof as a tragic poet. He first showed of what the
Russian language, before neglected, was susceptible.
Born at Mosco in 1727, of noble parents, he zealously
devoted himself to the study of the ancient classic au¬
thors and of the French poets. This it v/as that roused
his poetic talents. His early compositions were all on
i
ussia. the subject of love. His countrymen admired his songs,
C V""^and they were soon in the mouth of every one. Ani¬
mated by this success, Sumarakof published by degrees
his other poetical productions. Tragedies, comedies,
psalms, operas, epitaphs, madrigals, odes, enigmas, ele¬
gies, satires; in a word, every species of composition
that poetry is capable of producing, flowed abundantly
from his pen, and filled not less than ten octavo vo¬
lumes. His tragedy, Choruf, was the first good play
in the Russian language. It is written in Alexandrine
verses, in rhyme, like his other tragedies, as Ham¬
let, Sinaw and Trumor, Aristona, Semira, Ngaropolk
and Dimisa, the false Dimitri, &c.; and this first per¬
formance showed, that in the plan, the plot, the cha¬
racter, and style, he had taken Corneille, Racine, and
Voltaire, for his models. Though Sumarakof possessed
no very brilliant genius, he had, however, a very hap¬
py talent of giving to his tragedies a certain originality,
which distinguished them from those of other nations.
He acquired the unqualified approbation of his country¬
men by the selection of his subjects; almost all of which
he took from the Russian history, and by the energy
and boldness which he gave to his characters. But his
success rendered him so haughty and so vain, that he
could not endure the mildest criticism. Jealous of the
fame acquired by Lomonossof, another Russian poet,
he sought every opportunity of discouraging him ; and
it was a great triumph to Sumarakof to observe that
the public scarcely noticed the first dramatic essays of
that writer, and that they were soon consigned to obli¬
vion.
Sumarakof has likewise written a great number of
comedies, in which the manner of Moliere is discover¬
able. In spite of their original and sometimes low hu¬
mour, they were not much liked. The principal are,
the Rival Mother and her Daughter; the Imaginary
Cuckold ; the Malicious Man, &c. He has composed
some operas; among others, Cephalus and Procris, set
* mthly to music by d’Araja, master of the imperial chapel, and
l nine, represented for the first time at St Petersburgh during
p‘ 'l0, the carnival of 1755. The performers of both sexes
ie were children under the age of 14. *
•A oil- The state of agriculture in the Russian empire is of
tli course extremely various. Husbandry is scarcely known
in the northern parts of the governments of Olonetz and
Archangel; but in the central parts of the empire has
been pursued from the earliest ages. The Russian
plough is light and simple, and scarcely pierces the
ground to the depth of two inches ; but in the southern
provinces a heavier kind is used, resembling the Ger¬
man. In what is called the summer field, the corn is
sown and reaped in the same year; wdfile in the winter
field the corn is sown in autumn, and the produce reap¬
ed in the ensuing summer. The former yields what
is called summer wheat, and rye, barley, millet, buck¬
wheat, flax, hemp, peas, &c. the latter only wheat or
rye; and the winter field is commonly left fallow to
the following spring. In general, agriculture is conduct¬
ed with great negligence, yet the harvests are abundant.
Lven in the neighbourhood of St Petersburgh, there
are large marshes which might be easily drained, and
converted into fertile.land. In the north, rye is most
generally cultivated; but in the middle and southern
regions, wheat; in the government of Ekatarinoslaf the
Arnautan wheat is beautiful, the flour yellowish, the
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
return commonly fifteen fold: nor is Turkish wheat, dr Russia,
maize, unknown in Taurida. Barley is a general pro- *
duction, and is converted into meal, as well as oats, of
which a kind of porridge is composed. Rice succeeds
well in the vicinity of Kislear. Potatoes are unaccount¬
ably neglected, except in the north. This invaluable
root bears the cold of Archangel, and vields from 30 to
50 fold. Flax and hemp form great objects of Russian
cultivation. Madder, woad, and saffron, grow wild in
the south. The hop is also cultivated, and is found wild
near the Uralian chain, and in Taurida. Tobacco has
been produced since theyear 1763, chiefly from Turkish
and Persian seed. In the gardens are cultivated cab¬
bages (of which a great number is consumed in the form
of sour-krout), and other plants common in Europe.
The government of Moscow produces abundance of
excellent asparagus, and sugar melons abound near the
Don and the Volga. Large orchards are seen in the
middle and southern parts of Russia, yet quantities of
fruit are imported. What is called the Kireskoi apple
often weighs four pounds, is of an agreeable flavour, and
will keep a long time. A transparent sort from China,
is also cultivated, called the Nalivni, melting and full
of juice. The culture of the vine has been attempted
in the south, and will certainly succeed in Taurida.
Bees are not known in Siberia, but form an object of
attention in the Uralian forests, where proprietor's car¬
ry their hives to a considerable height in large trees,
and they are secured from the bear by ingenious con¬
trivances described by Mr Tooke. Mulberry trees and
silk are not unknown in the south of European Russia,
especially in Taurida and the Krimea. In the Krimea,
camels are very commonly used for draught, a custom
which seems peculiar to that province. 217
The arts in Russia have received very considerable State of the
improvement within the last 50 years. Most of thearU*
arts that relate to luxuries are exercised at St Peters¬
burgh, to such an extent, and in such perfection, as to
render it unnecessary to import these articles from other
countries. The chief works of this kind are those of
gold and silver goods. Here are 44 Russian and 139
foreign, consequently in all 183 workers in gold, sil¬
ver, and trinkets, as masters ; and besides them several
gilders and silverers. The pomp of the court, and
the luxury of the rich and great, have rendered a taste
in works of this kind so common, and carried the art
itself to such a pitch, that the most extraordinary objects
of it are here to be met with. Several of them are
wrought in a sort of manufactory ; in one set of premises
are all the various workmen and shops for completing
the most elegant devices, ornamental and useful, from
the rough bullion. Even the embroiderers in gold and
silver, though they are not formed into a company, are
yet pretty numerous. The works they produce are
finished in so high a taste, that quantities of them are
sold in the shops that deal in English or French goods,
and to which they are not inferior. This business,
which is a perpetual source of profit to a great number
of widows and young women of slender incomes, forms
a strong objection to the declamations against luxury.
Perhaps the remark is not unnecessary, that sham laces
and embroidery cannot here be used, even on the stage.
Next to these may be ranged the host of milliners, who
are mostly of French descent; and here, as in Paris, to¬
gether with their industry, are endowed with a variety of
t 3 F agreeable
Russia.
R U S [ 410 ] R U S
agreeable and profitable talents. Their numbers are
daily increasing; and the greater their multitude, the
better they seem to thrive. Their works are neat, ele¬
gant, and modish ; but they certainly bear an enormous
price: a marchande des modes, if she understand her
business, is sure to make a fortune. The generality of
them, after completing this aim, return to their native
country.
The coachmaker’s trade is likewise here in a flourish¬
ing state. The great concerns in which this business is
carried on in all its parts, from the simple screw to the
finest varnish ; the solidity and durability, the elegance
and the taste of the carriages they turn out, the multi¬
tude of workmen, and, in short, the large sums of money
that are employed in them, which would otherwise be
sent abroad for these vehicles, render this business one
of the most consequential of the residence. In the
judgment of connoisseurs, and by the experience of
such as use them, the carriages made here yield in nothing
to those of Paris or London ; and in the making of
varnish the Russians have improved upon the English :
only in point of durability the carriages are said to fall
short of those built by the famous workmen of the last-
mentioned nation ; and the want of dry timber is given
as the cause of this failure. With all these advantages,
and notwithstanding the great difference in price, in¬
creased by the high duties of those carriages which come
from abroad, yet these are yearly imported to a great
amount. The Russians have, however, succeeded in ap¬
propriating the greater part of this business to them¬
selves. The shape of their carriages is in the height of
the mode; the varnish is excellent, and the whole out¬
ward appearance elegant and graceful; but for durabi¬
lity, the reputation of the Russian workmen is inferior to.
that of the Germans settled in this country. This cen¬
sure applies to all the Russian works of art; their exte¬
rior is not to be found fault with, but they are deficient
in the solidity which so much recommends the work of
foreign artists. The Russians have indeed to contend
with an obstacle that renders it almost impossible for
them to employ so much time, labour, and expense, on
their work, as are requisite for bringing it to the utmost
perfection. This is the general prejudice in favour of
British commodities, which is nowhere carried to so
high a pitch as it was in Russia a few years ago. The
Russian workman, therefore, naturally endeavours to
impose his work upon the customer for foreign ; and
where this is not practicable, lie is obliged to sacrifice
solidity to outward appearance, for which alone he can
expect to be paid. A chariot made by a German coach-
maker will cost 600 or 700 rubles, whereas a Russian
chariot can be bought for half the money ; and it some¬
times happens that the latter is even more durable than
the former..
Joinery is exercised as well by the Russians as the
Germans; but the cabinet-maker’s art. in which the
price of the ingenuity far exceeds the value of the ma¬
terials, is at present solely confined to some foreigners,
among whom the Germans distinguish themselves to
their honour. _ The artists of that nation occasionally
execute masterpieces, made at intervals of leisure under
the influence of genius and taste, and for which they
find a ready sale in the residence of a great and magni¬
ficent court. Thus, not long since one of these made a
cabjnety which for invention, taste, and excellency of
workmanship, exceeded every thing that had dver been IWx
seen in that way. The price of this piece of art was —y—,
7000 rubles ; and the artist declared, that with this
sum he should not be paid for the years of application
he had bestowed upon it. Another monument of Ger¬
man ingenuity is preserved in the Academy of Sciences,
in the model of a bridge after a design of the state coun¬
sellor Von Gerhard. This bridge, which would be the
most magnificent work of the kind, if the possibility of
its construction could be proved, consists of 11 arches,
a drawbridge for letting vessels pass, distinct raised foot¬
ways, landing places, &c. The beauty of the model,
and the excellency of its execution, leave every thing
of the sort very far behind. The Empress Catharine
II. rewarded the artificer with a present of 4000 rubles,,
and he was ever after employed by the court.
Both these works of art have been, how'ever, far ex¬
celled by a writing desk made by Roentgen, a native of
Neuwied, and a Moravian, who lived several years in
St Petersburgh, and embellished the palaces of the em¬
press and principal nobility with the astonishing produc¬
tions of his art. In this writing desk the genius of the
inventor has lavished its riches and its fertility in the
greatest variety of compositions : all seems the w ork of
enchantment. On opening this amazing desk, in front
appears a beautiful group of bas-reliefs in bronze superb¬
ly gilt; which, by the slightest pressure on a spring,
vanishes awray, giving place to a magnificent writing-flat
inlaid with gems. The space above this flat is devoted
to the keeping of valuable papers or money. The bold
hand that should dare to invade this spot would imme¬
diately be its own betrayer ; for, at the least touch of
the table part, the most charming strains of soft and
plaintive music instantly begin to play upon the ear, the
organ whence it proceeds occupying the lower part of
the desk behind. Several small drawers for holding the
materials for writing, &c. likewise start forward by the
pressure of their springs, andshut again as quickly, with¬
out leaving behind a trace of their existence. If w'e
would change the table part of the bureau into a read¬
ing-desk, from the upper part aboard springs forward,
from which, with incredible velocity, all the parts of a
commodious and well contrived reading-desk expand,
and take their proper places. The inventor offered this
rare and astonishing piece to the empress Catharine II-
for 20,000 rubles ; but she generously thought that this
sum would be barely sufficient to pay for the workman¬
ship ; she therefore recompensed his talents with a far¬
ther present of 5000 rubles. Her majesty presented
this matchless piece of art to the Academy of Sciences,
in whose museum it still remains. * * TooM
The Russian skill in architecture is evinced by the Catlm I
magnificent buildings which adorn the city of St Peters- |
burgh, and more especially by the Taurida palace.p' ]
Here is seen the largest hall of which we have any ac¬
count. This prodigious hall was built after the unassist¬
ed design of Prince Potemkin, and unites to a sublime
conception, all the graces of finished taste. It is sup¬
ported by double rows of colossal doric pillars, opening
on one side into a vast pavilion, which forms the empe¬
ror’s winter garden. This garden is very extensive, the
trees chiefly orange, of an enormous size, sunk in the
earth in their tubs, with fine mould covering the surface
between them. The walks are gravelled ; wind and un¬
dulate in a very delightful manner; are neatly, turfed,.
and.
tussla.
.arr s
rthem
iimer,
3.51.
218
nu (ac¬
es.
U tJ S
anti lined with roses and other flowers. The whole
' pavilion is lighted by lofty windows, and from the ceil¬
ing are suspended several magnificent lustres of the
richest cut glass. In the enormous hall of which this
garden forms a part, Prince Potemkin gave the most
sumptuous entertainment ever recorded since the days
of Roman voluptuousness. *
Among the Russian manufactories, the imperial esta¬
blishments arc so much distinguished for the magnitude
of their plan, and the richness and excellence of their
productions, that they may enter into competition with
the most celebrated institutions of the same kind in any
Other country. The tapestry manufactory, which weaves
both hangings and carpeting, produces such excellent
work, that better is not to be seen from the Gobelines
in Paris. The circumstance that at present only native
Russians are employed, enhances the value and curiosity
of the establishment. Nowhere, perhaps, is the pro¬
gress of the nation in civilization more striking to the
foreigner than in the spacious and extensive work rooms
of this manufactory. The porcelain manufactory like¬
wise entertains, excepting the modellers and arcanists,
none but Russian workmen, amounting in all to the
number of 400, and produces 3vare that, for taste of de¬
sign and beauty of execution, approaches near to their
best patterns. The clay was formerly brought from the
Ural, but at present it is procured from the Ukraine,
and the quartz from the mountains of Olonetz. It is
carried on entirely at the expense of government, to
which it annually costs 15,000 rubles in wrages, and
takes orders. But the price of the porcelain is high;
and the general prejudice is not in favour of its dura¬
bility,. The Fayence manufactory has hitherto made
only ineffectual attempts to drive out the queen’s ware
of England; but the neat and elegant chamber-stoves
made there give it the consequence of a very useful
establishment. Almost all the new built houses are pro¬
vided with the excellent work of this manufactory, and
considerable orders are executed for the provinces.
A bronze manufactory, which was established for the
use of the construction of the Isaak church, but works
now for the court and private persons, merits honour¬
able mention, on account of the neatness and taste of
its executions.
The stone-cutting works of Peterhof are remarkable
for the mechanism of their construction. All the instru¬
ments, saws, turning lathes, cutting and polishing en¬
gines, are worked by water under the floor of the build¬
ing. Fifty workmen are here employed in working
foreign, and especially Russian sorts of stone, into slabs,
yases, urns, boxes, columns, and other ornaments of
various kinds and magnitudes. Many other imperial
fabrics for the use of the army, the mint, &c. are carried
bn in various places; but the description of them would
lead us beyond our limits.
The number of private manufactories at present sub¬
sisting in St Petersburg!! amounts to about 100. The
principal materials on which they are employed, spme
on a larger and others on a smaller scale, are leather,
paper, gold and silver, sugar, silk, tobacco, distilled wa¬
ters, wool, glass, clay, wax, cotton and chintz. Lea¬
ther, as is well known, is among the most important of
their manufactures for the export trade; accordingly
here are 1G tan-works. The paper manufactories amount
to the like number, for hangings and general use.
[ 411 ]
It U S
Twelve gold and silver manufactories sell threads, laces, R«s»u.
edgings, fringes, epaulets, &c. There are 8 sugar
works ; 7 for silk goods, gauze, cloths, hose, stuffs and
several others. Here must not be forgotten the great
glass-houses set on foot by Prince Potemkin, where all
the various articles for use and ornament, of that mate-
rial, are made; but particularly that for looking glasses,
where they are manufactured of such extraordinary
magnitude and beauty, as to exceed any thing of the
kind produced by the famous glass-houses of Murano
and Paris. Among many others which we cannot
here particularize, are not fewer than five letter found¬
ries, one manufactory for clocks and watches, &c. 213
In giving a general view of the commerce of the Commerce.
Russian empire, it will be necessary that we should first
enumerate the exports and imports, with their average
amount, and we shall then be able, by comparing these,
to form a just estimate of the commercial advantages
enjoyed by the empire. Mr Tooke has furnished u«
with the following statements of the annual exports
from St Petersburgh, on an average of ten years, from
1780 to 1790. During that tmie there were annually
exported,
Iron,
Saltpetre,
Hemp,
Flax,
Napkins and linens,
Sail-cloth and flems,
Cordage,
Hemp oil and linseed oil,
Linseed,
Tobacco,
Rhubarb,
Wheat,
Rye,
Barley,
Oats,
Masts, 1456
Planks, 1,193,125
Boards, 85,647
Rosin,
Pitch,
Tar,
Train oil,
Wax,
Tallow, and tallow candles,
Potashes,
Isinglas,
Caviar,
Horse hair,
Horse tails, 69,722
Hogs bristles,
Russia malts, 106,01-5
Goats skins, 292,016
Hides and sole leather,
Pieces of peltry, 621,327
Ox tongues, 9982
!2,655,038 poods.
19,528 do.
2,498,950 do.
792,932 do.
£,907,876 arschine*
214,704 pieces.
106,763 poods.
167,432 do.
192,328 do.
52,645 do.
129 do.
105,136 do.
271,976 do.
35,864 do.
200,000 do.
7,487
9,720
37,336
81,386
10,467
943,618
31,712
5,516
8,958
5,635
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
29,110 do.
144,876 do.
Ox bones, 73,350
It will be seen from the above table, that a very great
proportion of the exports of Russia consists of raw ma¬
terials, or of the unmanufactured products of the coun¬
try. Indeed the employment of the nation, consider¬
ably as it has increased since the time of Peter L, is still
directed more to production than to manufacture. This
3 F 2 is
II u s
Russia.
It U S [ 412 ]
is the natural progress of every human society advancing
towards civilization; and Russia must continue to con¬
fine itself to the production and to the commerce in
products, till the degree of its population, and the
employment of its inhabitants, be adequate to the ma¬
nufacturing of its raw materials.
The buying up of the foregoing articles, and their
conveyance from the remote and midland regions of the
empire, form an important branch of the internal com¬
merce. The greater part of these products is raised on
the fertile shores of the Volga ; and this inestimable ri¬
ver, which, in its course, connects the most distant pro¬
vinces, is at the same time the channel of business and
industry almost to the whole empire. Wherever its
water laves the rich and fruitful coast, diligence and
industry have fixed their abode, and its course marks
the progress of internal civilization. St Petersburgh,
though at a distance of from 5000 to 6000 versts from
the rich mines of Siberia, receives, through the medium
of this river, the stores of its enormous magazines, the
greater part of which are brought thither from the most
eastern districts of Siberia, almost entirely by water.
The Selenga receives and transfers them to the Baikal,
whence they proceed by the Angara to the Yenissy,
and pass from that river along the Oby into the Tobol.
Hence they are transported over a tract of about 400
versts by land, to the Tchussovaiya; from this river in¬
to the Kamma, and thence into the Volga, from which
they pass through the sluices at Vishney-Volotshok into
the Volkhof, and from that river into the Ladoga lake ;
from which, lastly, after having completed a journey
through two quarters of the globe, they arrive by the
Neva, at the place of their destination. This astonish¬
ing transport is rendered still more interesting by the
consideration that these products, thus conveyed to St
Petersburgh from the neighbourhood of the north-east¬
ern ocean, remain here but for a tew weeks, for the
purpose of again setting out on a second, and perhaps a
longer voyage, or, afterbeing unshipped in distant coun¬
tries, of returning hither under an altered form, and by a
tedious and difficult navigation, coming back to their
native land. Thus, how many scythes of the Siberian
boors may have gone this circuitous course!
The number of vessels which, taking the average of
ten years, from 1774 to 1784, came by the Ladoga
canal to St Petersburgh, was 2861 barks, 797 half¬
barks, 508 one masted vessels, 1113 chaloups; in all
5339. If to these we add 6739 floats of balks, we shall
have a total of 12,078.
The value in money of these products is, by the want
which Russia experiences of wrought commodities, and
by the increasing luxury, so much lessened, that the
advantage on the balance is proportionally very small.
A list of the articles of trade with which St Peters¬
burgh annually furnishes a part of the empire, would
afford matter for the most interesting economical com¬
mentary.
The annual imports brought to St Petersburgh, on
an average often years from 1780 to 1790, will ap¬
pear from the following table.
Rubles.
Silken stuffs to the amount of,
Woolen stuffs,
Cloth,
2,500,000
2,000,000
2.000,000
Cotton stuffs, - _ .
Silk and cotton Stockings, 10,000 dozen pairs.
Trinkets, - - -
Watches, 2000.
Hardware, -
Looking glasses,
English stone-ware,
English horses, 250.
Coffee, 26,300 poods.
Sugar, 372,000 poods.
Tobacco, 5000 poods.
Oranges and lemons,
Fresh fruit, - _ „
Herrings, 14,250 tons.
Sweet oil, - -
Porter and English beer,
French brandy, 50,000 ankers.
Champagne and Burgundy, 4000 pipes.
Other wines, 250,000 hogsheads.
Mineral waters,
Paper of different kinds,
Books, - . .
Copper-plate engravings,
Alum, 25,500 poods.
Indigo, 3830 poods.
Cochineal, 1335 poods.
Glass and glass wares,
Scythes, 325,000, &c. &c.
Rubles. Russia.
534,000 
700,000
50,000
50,000
43,800
101,500
65,000
20,000
262,000
12,000
42,750
50,150
60,200
64,000
A considerable part of these commodities remains for
consumption at St Petersburgh, while the rest is con¬
veyed by land carriage to various parts of the empire.
Land-carriage is preferred on these occasions, as the
passage of the river up the stream would be tedious
and expensive. The carts or sledges made use of in
this conveyance are generally drawn by one horse, and
have each its own driver; though sometimes on long
journeys there is only one driver to every three carts.
They commonly go in caravans of from 25 to 100 carts.
According to the above tables, we are now enabled
to state the value of the exports and imports, and the
balance of trade, at St Petersburgh ; and from these to
deduce pretty just conclusions with respect to the com¬
merce of the whole empire. By the most probable es¬
timation on this same average of 10 years from 1780
to 1790, the statement will stand as follows.
Exports, - - 13,261,942 rubles
Imports, - - 12,238,319 do.
Thus the amount of the whole commerce of St
Petersburgh during the above period of ten years, was
annually 25,837,325 rubles. The commerce of Rus¬
sia by sea, exclusive of the Caspian >sea, wTas stated by
Storch at 30 millions of rubles of exports ; but includ¬
ing the Caspian sea, and the commerce with China
and other countries by land, he estimates the whole
exports in 1796 at 50 millions of rubles. In 1805
they were stated by Crome at 72,400,000 of rubles ;
and from the increasing numbers of the population,
must now be much greater. The imports according
to the official statements are always less than the ex¬
ports. The trade by land with China and other parts
of Asia, is stated to employ 38,000 persons as car¬
riers^
The
3
R U S [ 413 ] HUS
H ia. The proportion which the other principal sea-ports
— 'mmJ of the Russian empire share in the general commerce,
will appear from the following table, drawn up for the
year 1793.
St Petersburgh,
Riga,
Archangel,
Taganrok,
Eupatoria,
Narva,
Otchakof,
Pernau,
Cronstadt,
Kherson,
Vyborg,
Reval,
Theodosia,
Friedrischshamm,
Kertsch,
Onega,
Arensburg,
Yenikaly,
Sevastopol,
Rubles.
23,757,954
8,985,929
2,525,208
428,087
334,398
238,555
209,321
189,131
157,365
147,822
124,832
109,897
54,281
31,374
9,960
9,552
9,346
4,322
858
(m) 37,328,192
JU)
Sta f ge- The commerce of St Petersburgh is carried on chiefly
ner rade {jy commission in the hands of factors. This class of
m J ,3ia' merchants, which consists almost entirely of foreigners,
forms the most respectable and considerable part of the
persons on the exchange. In the year 1790, of the fo¬
reign counting houses, not belonging to the guilds,
were 28 English, 7 German, 2 Swiss, 4 Danish, seve¬
ral Prussian, 6 Dutch, 4 French, 2 Portuguese, 1 Spa¬
nish, and 1 Italian. Besides these, were 12 denomi¬
nated burghers, and of the first guild 106, with 46 fo¬
reign merchants, and 17 belonging to other towns,
though several cause themselves to be enrolled in these
guilds who are not properly merchants.
The Russian merchants from the interior of the em¬
pire repair, at a stated time, to St Petersburgh, where
they bargain with the factors for the sale of their com¬
modities. This done, they enter into contracts to deli¬
ver the goods according to the particulars therein spe- Russia,
cified, at which time they commonly receive the half —v—”
or the whole of the purchase-money, though the goods
are not to be delivered till the following spring or sum¬
mer by the barks then to come down the Ladoga ca¬
nal. The quality of the goods is then pronounced on
by sworn brackers or sorters, according to the kinds
mentioned in the contract. The articles of importation
are either disposed of by the Russian merchants through
the resident factors, or the latter deliver them for sale
at foreign markets ; in both cases the Russian, to whose
order they came, receives them on condition of paying
for them by instalments of 6, 12, and more months.
The Russian merchant, therefore, is paid for his exports
beforehand, and buys such as arc imported on credit;
he risks no damages by sea, and is exempted from the
tedious transactions of the custom-house, and of load¬
ing and unloading.
The clearance of the ships, the transport of the goods
into the government warehouses, the packing and un¬
packing, unloading and despatching of them,—in a;
word, the whole of the great bustle attendant on the
commerce of a maritime town is principally at Cronstadt^
and that part of the residence called Vassiliostrof. Here
are the exchange, the custom-house; and in the vicinity
of this island, namely, on a small island between that
and the Petersburgh island, the hemp warehouses and
magazines, in which the riches of so many countries are
bartered and kept. In all the other parts of the city,
the tumult of business is so rare and impercept ible, that
a stranger who should be suddenly conveyed hither,
would never imagine that he was in the chief commer¬
cial town of the Russian empire. The opulent mer¬
chants have their dwellings and counting-houses in the
most elegant parts of the town. Their houses, gate¬
ways, and court-yards, are not, as in Hamburgh and
Riga, blocked up and barricadoed with bales of goods
and heaps of timber. Here, besides the counting-house,
no trace is seen of mercantile affairs. The business at
the custom-house is transacted by one of the clerks,
and people who are hired for that purpose, called ex¬
peditors ; and the labour is performed by artelschiki,
or porters belonging to a kind of guild.
The factor delivers the imported goods to the Russian
merchant,
(m) To this table of the principal sea-ports of Russia, must now be added the town of Odessa, or New Odessa,
which 10 years ago was scarcely known as a place of trade, but is now become a populous and important sea-port.
Odessa is situated in the government of Katharinoslaf, on a small gulf of the Black sea, between the rivers Dniepr
and Dniestr, 44 miles W. by S. of Otchakof, and nearly 1000 miles S. of St Petersburgh. In 1805, this town
contained a population of 10,000 persons, and its population was yearly increasing. The houses are well built of
free stone ; the streets are wide, and are disposed according to a regular plan, but unpaved. The town is fortified,
has a secure and capacious harbour, capable of admitting vessels of considerable burden, and a mole or quay
extending above one-fourth of a mile into the sea, susceptible of being converted to the most useful purposes.
There are several warehouses for the purpose of depositing bonded goods, at times when the market proves
unfavourable. The public markets are well supplied, and there are two good theatres, besides other places of
public amusement. The society of this thriving town is rendered extremely gay by the residence of the Polish
nobles, who resort to it in great numbers, during the summer, for sea-bathing ; and the wise and upright admi¬
nistration of the duke de Richelieu, who was governor in 18G5, had added greatly to the prosperity ot the place.
The merchants are chiefly Germans and Italians, though, at the time we mention, there were established in this
port two British houses of respectability. The chief exports from this place are wheat and other grain, with
which 1000 ships have been loaded in a single year. Among the natural disadvantages of Odessa, must be no¬
ticed the bareness and want of wood in its immediate neighbourhood, and the dangerous navigation of the
Black sea, from the currents and want of sea room. In point of commercial importance, Odessa ranks at least
on an equal footing with Taganrok. Long. 29° 24' E. Lat. 46° 28' N. See Macgitt's Travels in Turkey?.
Italy, and Russia, voh. i. p. 257..
Russia.
R U S
merdiant, who sends them off, in the manner already
mentioned, or retails them on the spot, in the markets,
warehouses, and shops.
There is no exaggeration in affirming, that it would
be difficult to point out a people that have more the spi¬
rit of trade and mercantile industry than the Russians.
Traffic is their darling pursuit; every common Russian,
if he can but by any means save a trifling sura of mo¬
ney, as it is very possible for him to do, by his frugal
and poor way of living, tries to become a merchant.
This career he usually begins as a rasneschik or seller
of things about the streets ; the profits arising from this
ambulatory trade, and his parsimony, soon enable him
to hire a lavka or shop ; where, by lending small sums
at large interest, by taking advantage of the course of
exchange, and by employing little artifices of trade,
he in a short time becomes a pretty substantial man.
He now buys and builds houses and shops, which he
either lets to others, or furnishes with goods himself,
putting in persons to manage them for small wages ;
begins to launch out into an extensive trade; under¬
takes podriads, contracts with the crown, deliveries of
merchandise, &c. The numerous instances of the ra¬
pid success of such people almost exceed all descrip¬
tion. By these methods a Russian merchant, named
Sava Yacovlof, who died not many years ago, from a
hawker of fish about the streets, became a capitalist of
several millions of rubles. Many of these favourites of
fortune are at. first vassals, who obtain passes from their
landlords, and with these stroll about the towns, in or¬
der to seek a better condition of life, as labourers,
bricklayers and carpenters, than they could hope to
find at the plough tail in the countr}\ Some of them
continue, after fortune has raised them, and even with
great riches, still slaves, paying their lord, in propor¬
tion to their circumstances, an olerolc, or yearly tribute.
Among the people of this class at St Petersburgh are
many who belong to Count Sheremetof, the richest
private man in Russia, and pay him annually for their
pass above 1000 rubles. It often happens that these
merchants, when even in splendid circumstances, still
retain their national habit and their long beard; and
it is by no means rare to see them driving along the
streets of the residence, in this dress, in the most ele¬
gant carriages. From all this it is very remarkable,
that extremely few Russian houses have succeeded in
getting the foreign commission trade ; a striking proof
that there is besides industry and parsimony
requisite to mercantile credit, in which the Russians
must have been hitherto deficient.
I hose who wish for a more minute account of the
arts, manufactures, commerce and trade of the Russian
empire, will find ample details on these important sub¬
jects, in the third volume of Mr Tooke’s View of the
Russian empire, during the reign of Catharine II. and
to the close of the eighteenth century.
This vast empire contains within its boundaries, ae-
composing cording to Mr Tooke’s account, not fewer than 81 di¬
stinct nations, differing from each other in their origin,
their language, and their manners. Without enumera¬
ting all those tribes, the names of many of which are
scarcely known to civilized Europe, we shall only par¬
ticularize the most remarkable. These are the descen¬
dants ot the ancient Siavi, comprehending the Russians
properly so called, and the neighbouring Poles; the
Fins, under which denomination we may include the
[ 414 ]
Russli
221
Nations
the Russian
empire.
222
r tr s
Laplanders, the Fsthonians, the Livonians, the Pernfii-
ans, and the Ostiaks; the numerous Tartar hordes that'1
inhabit the southern parts of the empire, comprehend¬
ing the Mongol Tartars, the Kalmuks, the Derbetans,
the Torgots, the Bargaburats ; the Khazares, the Kan-
gli or Petchenegans ; the Siberian Tartars; the Tar¬
tars of the Krimea; the Baschkirs; the Kirgsheses,
and the Chevines ; the inhabitants of the regions of
Mount Caucasus, including the Georgians ; the Mand-
shurs, including the Tunguses, the Samoiedes, the
Kamt^chadales, and the Kozaks.
Of several of these nations we have already given
an account, in the articles Cossacs, Kamtschatka,
Lapland, Poland, &c. ; and we shall here confine
ourselves chiefly to the manners and customs of the
Russians, the Fins, the Samoiedes, the Baschkirs, the
Kozaks, the inhabitants of the Ukraine, and the Kri-
mean Tartars.
The native Russians are of the middle size, of a strong General
and robust make, and in general extremely hardy, charaett
They have usually a small mouth, with thin lips and ^
white teeth $ little eyes; a low forehead; the nose fre-1 u:,:> lU!
quently small, and turned upwards, and a bushy beard.
The expression of their countenance is grave, but good-
natured. The gait and gestures of the body have often
a peculiar and impassioned vivacity, partaking of a cer¬
tain complaisance, and engaging manner. They are in
general capable of bearing fatigue, want of accommo¬
dation and repose, better than the inhabitants of any
other European nation. Notwithstanding the severity
of the climate, their diseases are few, and there are
frequent and remarkable instances of longevity.
With respect to general character, all writers allow
that they are ignorant, and often brutal, not easily
roused to action, and extremely addicted to drunken¬
ness. They are also not remarkable for cleanliness.
Having thus given a general view of the Russian
character, we must consider a little more particularly
that of the several classes into which they may he di¬
vided, and make a few remarks on their manners and
customs. 22.i
According to Mr Tooke, there is in Russia at pre-^Nobilij
sent but one order of nobility, though it is not unusual:l11^ oeij
with travellers to mention the higher and lower nobility.
The title boyar, so common in the beginning of the
18th century, is now disused; and those of prince, count,
and baron, form the principal distinctions. The Russian
nobility have always enjoyed certain peculiar rights and
privileges, though these have been rather derived from
long usage, than sanctioned h}r any written law. Thus,
they can exclusively possess landed estates, though they
cannot alienate or sell them. If a nobleman he found
guilty of any high crime, he tnajr incur the forfeiture of
his estate, his honour, or his life, but he cannot be made
a vassal to the crown. The nobility can arbitrarily im¬
pose taxes and services on their vassals, and may inflict
on them any corporal punishment short of death, and
they are not responsible for their vassals. A nobleman
cannot be compelled to raise recruits against his will, or
to build a magazine or barrack for the crown ; his per¬
son and landed property are exempted from taxation ;
he can hold assemblies, set up manufactories, and open
mines on his own ground, without paying tribute to the
crown. He is, however, bound to personal service in
war. The Russian nobility live in great style, and sup¬
port a considerable establishment of servants. As part
of
?4
son
R U S [ 415 ] R U S
of this estnblishmcnt, they have generally a dwarf and
J a fool. These dwarfs are the pages and playthings of
the great, and, at almost all entertaiments, stand for
hours at their lord’s chair, holding his snuff' box, or
awaiting his commands.
The tzar Alexei abhorred the personal abasement of
the inferior classes to their superiors, which he would not
accept when exhibited to himself; and it may appear
surprising that Peter I. who despised mere ceremonials,
should have encouraged every extravagance of this
kind. In a few years of his reign, the beautiful simpli¬
city of designation and address which his father had en¬
couraged was forgotten, and the cumbersome and almost
ineffable titles which disgrace the little courts of Ger¬
many were crowded into the language of Russia. He
enjoined the lowest order of gentlemen to be addressed
by the phrase, your respectable birth ; the next rank, by
your high good birth; the third, your excellence; the
fourth, your high excellence: then cameym/r brilliancy,
and high brilliancy: highness and majesty were reserved
for the grand duke and the emperor.
These titles and modes of address were ordered with
all the regularity of the manual exercise; and the man
who should omit any of them when speaking to his
superior, might be lawfully beaten by the offended
boyar. Before this period, it was polite and courtly to
speak to every man, even the heir apparent, by adding
his father’s name to his own ; and to the grand duke,
Paul Petrovitch would have been perfectly respectful,
or a single word signifying dear father, when he was not
named. Though pompous titles wTere unknown among
them before the era of Peter, the subordination of ranks
was more complete than in any other European nation ;
but with this simplicity peculiar to them and the Poles,
that they had but three ranks, the sovereign, the no¬
blesse or gentry, and the serfs. It was not till lately
that the mercantile rank formed any distinction ; and
that distinction is no more than the freedom of the per¬
son, which was formerly a transferable commodity be¬
longing to the boyar. Notwithstanding this simplicity,
which put all gentlemen on a level, the subscription of
a person holding an inferior office was not servant, but
slave; and the legal word for a petition in form was
tchelobitii ; which signifies a beating with the forehead,
or stirring the ground with the forehead, which was ac¬
tually done. The father of Alexei abolished the prac¬
tice; but at this day, when a Russian petitions you, he
touches his forehead with his finger; and if he be very
earnest, he then puts his finger to the ground.
The Russian nobles formerly wore long beards, and
long robes with strait sleeves dangling down to their
ancles; their collars and shirts were generally wrought
with silk of different colours; in place of hats, they co¬
vered their heads with furred caps, and instead of shoes,
wore red or yellow leathern buskins. The dress of the
women nearly resembled that of the other sex, with this
difference, that their garments were looser, their caps
fantastical, and their shift sleeves three or four ells in
length, gathered up in folds from the shoulder to the
fore arm. At present, however, the French fashions
prevail among the better sort throughout all Russia.
The common people are generally tall, healthy, and
robust, patient of cold and hunger, inured to hardships,
and remarkably capable of bearing the most sudden
transition from the extremes of hot or cold weather.
Nothing is more customary than to see a Russian, who Jhissfa.
is overheated and sweating at every pore, strip himself 1 ~
naked, and plunge into a river; nay, when their pores
are all opened in the hot bath, to which they have daily
recourse, they either practise this immersion, or subject
themselves to a discharge of some pailfuls of cold wa¬
ter. This is the custom of both men and women, who
enter the baths promiscuously, and appear naked to
each other, without scruple or hesitation.
A Russian will subsist for many days on a little oat¬
meal and water, and even raw roots; an onion is a re¬
gale; but the food they generally use in their journeys
is a kind of rye-bread, cut into small square pieces,
and dried again in the oven. These, when they are
hungry, they soak in water, and eat as a very com¬
fortable repast. Both sexes are remarkably healthful
and robust, and accustom themselves to sleep every
day after dinner.
The Russian women are remarkably fair, comely,
strong, and well-shaped, obedient to their lordly hus¬
bands, and patient under discipline ; they are even said
to be fond of correction, which they consider as an
infallible mark ot their husbands’ conjugal affection ;
and they pout and pine if it is withheld, as if they
thought themselves treated with contempt and disre<-
gard. Of this neglect, however, they have very little
cause to complain ; the Russian husband being very
well disposed, by nature and inebriation, to exert his
arbitrary power.
Such is the slavery in which the Russians of both
sexes are kept by their parents, their patrons, and the
emperor, that they are not allowed to dispute any
match that may be provided for them by these direc¬
tors, however disagreeable or odious it may be. Offi¬
cers of the greatest rank in the army, both natives
and foreigners, have been saddled with wives by the
sovereign in this arbitrary manner. A great general
some time ago deceased, who was a native of Britain,
having peen pressed by Elizabeth to marry one of her
ladies, saved himself from a very disagreeable marriage,
only by pleading the badness of his constitution. " 02.T
In Russia, the authority of parents over their children Authority,
is almost as great as it was among the ancient Romans, of parents
and is often exercised with equal severity. Should a ovt'r theiB
father, in punishing his son for a fault, be the imme- cluldrL‘u-
diate cause of his death, he could not be called to ac¬
count for his conduct; he would have done nothing but
what the law authorized him to do. Nor does this legal
tyranny cease with the maturity of children ; it conti¬
nues while they remain in their father’s family, and is
often exerted in the most indecent manner. It was not
uncommon, even in StPetersburgh, to see a lady of the
highest rank, and in all the pomp and pride of youth¬
ful beauty, standing in the court-yard with her back,
bare, exposed to the whip of her father’s servants. And
so little disgrace is attached to this punishment, that the
same lady would sit down at table with her father and
his guests immediately after she had suffered, her flog¬
ging, provided its severity had not confined her. to bed,.
In superstitious notions and practices, the common Their su*
Russians are by no means behind their neighbours.Terstit*°?i
Most of them believe in ghosts, apparitions, and hob¬
goblins; and few of them are fond of inhabiting the
houses of near relatives deceased. Hence it happens
that many houses are left to fall into ruins, or sold to
1 strangers
R U S
[
R U S
227
Diet.
strangers at a very cheap rate. Even a house whose
J owner has fallen into poverty, or has otherwise become
unfortunate, will not easily find a purchaser, because it
has ejected its master. On the Thursday before Whit¬
suntide, the young women celebrate the festival of the
Slavonian goddess Lada, and her son Dida, with sing¬
ing and dancing; and at this time they decorate a birch
bush with garlands and ribbons, and then throwing it
with great solemnity into a river, predict from the figures
the ribbons assume in the current, whom they shall wed,
and what shall be their fate in marriage. On the 5th of
January they go by night into a cross street or a cellar,
andfancy they hear in every sound the prediction of their
destiny. This is called sluschit, to go a hearing. The
day after Christmas is solemnized by the midwives, be¬
cause the Virgin Mary’s midwife was materially con¬
cerned in the redemption of the world. In many places
they believe that some wit ches, by their incantations,have
the power of depriving the female sex of their privilege
of becoming mothers, but that others can preserve it in¬
violable ; of course brides always apply to the latter.
Their dcmovois are our fairies, and their vodovois our
water goblins, or wizards of the stream.
The enjoyment of the table is carried to greater ex¬
cess in Russia than in almost any other country. What
has a very curious appearance to a foreigner is, that in
summer a course of hot meats, and another of iced meats
of the same kind, are very commonly served up together.
Their cookery is in general commendable, but their
cooks are chiefly from foreign countries. It is usual
before dinner to take, in the drawing-room, a repast
consisting of savory meats, accompanied with wines
and cordials ; and at these repasts it is not unusual for
some of the party to forget they have to dine after¬
wards ; nor is it thought any thing remarkable to see a
person enter the dining-room in a state of intoxication.
A Russian dinner among the politer classes, is thus
described by Sir John Carr. It is seldom later than
three o’clock. Upon a side board in the drawing-room
is always placed a table filled with fish, meats, and sau¬
sages, salted, pickled, and smoked; bread and butter,
and liqueurs. These airy nothings are mere running
footmen of the dinner, which is in the following or¬
der : A cold dish, generally of sturgeon or some other
fish, precedes, followed by soup, a number of made
dishes, a profusion of roasted and boiled meats, among
which the Ukraine beef is distinguishable, and abund¬
ance of excellent vegetables ; then pastry and a des¬
sert of very fine melons, and sour flavourless wall fruit.
The table is covered with a variety of wines, and ex¬
cellent ale or beer. The master of the house, or the
cook, carves; and slices of every dish are handed round
to the guests. Among the most gratifying dishes in
summer, is a large vase of ice broken into small pieces,
with which the guests cool their wine and beer. In
the yard of every Russian house, there are two large
cellars, one warm for winter, and the other filled with
ice for the summer. The soup, and coffee, and cho¬
colate, are frequently iced. After a few glasses of de¬
licious wines, the lady of the house usually rises, and
the company retires to coffee in the drawing-room*
Their common drink is called quash, and is made
by pouring hot water upon rye bread. This is left to
ferment, and soon produces a drink, which, though at
first disagreeable, becomes afterwards sufficiently grate-
416 ]
ful to the palate. Mead is also a common^beverage; Russia,
but the native malt liquors are very bad. The Rus J—*v^
sians consume a great quantity of tea, and are said
by Mr Macgill to have the best which is drunk in Eu¬
rope. This is called the flower of tea, and is brought
over land by the Chinese merchants who come to the
Russian fairs, and exchange their tea for other articles
used in their country. _ 22g
The amusements of the native Russians consist prin- Amuse,
cipally of singing, dancing, drafts, and some otherments.
games; foot-ball, and more especially swinging. The
swing is everywhere, and at all times, used as an amuse¬
ment by persons of rank and condition ; but at Easter
it is the grand diversion of the holidays. The swings
may be divided into three sorts; some have a vibrating
motion, and these are the most common, well known in
Germany and Britain; others are turned round in a
perpendicular, and others again in a horizontal direc-
tioa. Thefirst of these latter species consists of two high
posts, on the top of which rests an axle, having two pairs
of poles fixed in its centre. Each of these pairs of poles
has at its two extremities a seat suspended from a move-
able axis. The proprietor, by turning the axis that rests
on the two posts, makes all the eight seats go round in a
perpendicular circle, so that they alternately almost
touch the ground, and then are mounted aloft in the air.
The last kind is composed of chairs, chariots, sledges,
wooden horses, swans, goats, &c. fastened at the extre¬
mities of long poles, and forced rapidly round in a ho¬
rizontal circle. In the Easter holidays all kinds of
machines are set up in the public squares ; and as the
common people are remarkably fond of the diversion,
it is a joyful season to the populace, who then devote
themselves without restraint to their national propensity
to mirth. The numerous concourse of persons of all
ranks and descriptions, who parade in a circle with their
elegant and sumptuous equipages, the honest merriment
of the crowd, the hearty participation with which they
enter into these amusements, the striking and singular
appearances of the exhibition itself, give this popular
festivity a character so peculiar, that the man of obser¬
vation, who will take pains to study the nation even on
this humorous stage, may catch very powerful strokes
of the pencil for his delineation. He will not fail to
discern the general gaiety with which old and young,
children and graybeards, are possessed, and which is
here not kindled for a transient moment, but is support¬
ed by every pleasant occasion, and placed in its most
agreeable light. He will remark the spirit of urbanity
and gallantry, appearing in a thousand little ways, as by
no means an indifferent feature in the national character.
Here a couple of beggars with their clothes in tatters,
are saluting one another in the most decent and respect¬
ful manner; a long string of questions about their wel¬
fare opens the dialogue, which likewise concludes with
a polite embrace. Yonder a young fellow is offering
to hand his girl, whose cheeks are glowing with paint
and brandy, into a seat in which they are both present¬
ly to be canted up in the air ; and even in those lofty
regions his tenderness never forsakes him. Only one
step farther, and the eye is attracted by different scenes.
The same people who were but now greeting each other
in friendly terms, are engaged in a violent quarrel, ex¬
hausting the enormous store of abusive epithets with
which the Russian tongue abounds. All that can de-
I
3
c
J
d
HUS [41
ussia. grade and exasperate a human being finds its expression
 in this energetic language ; yet with this vehemence of
speech they never lose their temper.
While they are making the most furious gestures,
straining their throats to the utmost pitch, loading one
another with the most liberal profusion of insults, there
is not the least danger that they should proceed to
blows. The police, well knowing that with all this
noise no lives will be lost, cools the heated parties by
a plentiful shower from the fire engine, kept on the
spot for that purpose, and which is found to be of such
excellent service, that one of them is always at hand
wherever a concourse of people is expected. Now,
all at once the strife is over, the two vagabonds are
running arm in arm to the nearest post house, to ratify
their renovated friendship over a glass of brandy.
In the vicinity of the swings, booths are usualty run
up with boards, in which low comedies are performed.
Each representation lasts about half an hour, and the
price of admittance is very trifling; but as the conflu¬
ence of the people is extremely great, and the acting
goes on the whole day, the profits are always consider¬
able both to the managers and to the performers, who
>29 share the amount between them.
les of The principal modes of conveyance in Russia, are by
yancR. means of sledges and drojekas. The latter carriage is,
we believe, peculiar to Russia, and is employed in the
large towns like our hackney coaches. It is described
by Mr Porter as a sort of parallelogram with four
leathern wings projecting at no great distance from its
body, and passing in a semicircular line towards the
ground. It runs on four low wheels, and is generally
furnished with two seats, placed in such a manner, that
two persons can sit sideways, but with their backs to
each other. In some of these carriages the seat is so
formed, that the occupier sits as on a saddle, and for
>30 better security holds by the driver’s sash,
ic and The Russians are fond of the bagpipe, and have a
:inS- kind of violin, with a large belly like that of a lute ;
but their music is very barbarous and defective. Yet
there are public schools in which the children are taught
to sing. The very beggars ask alms in a whining ca¬
dence, and ridiculous sort of recitative. A Russian
ambassador at the Hague, having been regaled with the
best concert of vocal and instrumental music that could
be procured, was asked how he liked the entertainment:
he replied, Perfectly well; the beggars in my country
sing just in the same manner. The warlike music of
the Russians consists in kettledrums and trumpets ;
they likewise use hunting horns ; but they are not at
all expert in the performance. It has been said, that
the Russians think it beneath them to dance, which may
have been the case formerly ; but at Petersburgh dan¬
cing is at present much relished, and a minuet is no¬
where so gracefully performed in Europe as by the
231 fashionable people in that metropolis.
ns> The Finns are rather of a short stature, have a flat
face with sunk cheeks, dark gray eyes, a thin beard,
tawny hair, and a sallow complexion. They are all
» of a strong make, and were it not for their excessive
propensity to drinking spirituous liquors, would be re¬
markably healthy. They are universally great eaters,
and in spite of their strong passion for brandy, not un-
frequently attain to a very advanced age. Their dress
consists of woollen kaftans, worn short to the knee,
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
7 ] HUS
with loose black pantaloons and boots. Nowand then, Russia.
by way of extraordinary finery, a sort of embroidered ' ~
decoration adorns their upper garments. Their caps
are unvaryingly of the same shape, round, with a broad *
rim turned up on all sides round the crown.
Mr Acerbi has given the following characteristic
account of the Finnish peasants.
“ The very beggars in other countries live in ease,
and even luxury, ” says Mr Acerbi “ compared to the
peasantry of the north ; but the northern peasantry are
a far happier, and far more respectable race, than the
poor of more civilized countries ; they are industrious,
and their industry can always procure enough to support
life with comfort: that abject degree of poverty is not
known there, which destroys industry by destroying
hope. They have a curious mode of fishing : when the
fisherman observes a fish under the ice, in shallow wa¬
ter, he strikes the ice forcibly, immediately over the
fish, with a club, and the fish, stupefied by the blow,
rises to the surface. They use a spear to kill the bear,
or, as they call him, the old man in the pelice : a cross
bar is fixed about a foot from the point of the spear,
as otherwise the bear might fall upon the spearsman :
the beast, feeling himself wounded, holds the spear
fast, and presses it more deeply into the wound. The
proverbs of the Finlanders bear testimony to their in¬
dustry and hospitality. ”
Their poetry is alliterative, without rhyme. The Finish
specimens translated by Mr Acerbi are very interesting, poetry.
I he following was composed by a Finnish peasant
upon his brother’s death.
“ The word went forth from heaven, from Him in
whose hands are all things. Come hither, I will make
thee my friend ; approach, for thou shalt henceforth be
my champion. Come down from the high hill: leave
the seat of sorrow behind thee ; enough hast thou suf¬
fered ; the tears thou hast shed are sufficient; thou hast
felt pain and disease ; the hour of thy deliverance is
come ; thou art set free from evil days ; peace hasten-
eth to meet thee, relief from grief to come.
“ Thus went he out to his Maker : he entered into
glory; he hastened to extreme bliss ; he departed to
enjoy liberty; he quitted a life of sorrow; he left the
habitations of the earth. ”
The Finns have many Runic verses which are sup¬
posed to contain healing powers, and these are styled
sanat, or charms ; as mandansanat, charms for the bite
of a serpent; tulensanat, charms to cure scalds or
burns ; raudansanat, charms to heal wounds, &c.
“ These charms are very numerous, and though not
much esteemed by the inhabitants of the sea-coast, are
in the highest repute amongst those who dwell in the
interior and mountainous parts of the country. This is
likely to continue to be the case as long as the practice
of physic remains in the hands of itinerant empirics and
ignorant old women. They jointly with charms use
some simple remedies, as salt, milk, brandy, lard, &c.
but attribute the cures they perform to the superior
efficacy of the verses they sing during the application ;
the chief theory and foundation of their practice con¬
sisting in a belief with which too they impress their
patients very strongly, that their complaints are occa¬
sioned by witchcraft, and can only be removed by
means of these incantations.
“ Of these charms it is not easy to obtain specimens,
t 3 G as
I
R U S [ 418 ], R U S
Hussla. as they who are versed in them are unwilling to com-
'—-v—~J munieate them to literary men, especially when they
see them prepare to commit them to writing, as they
fear to be reported to the magistrate or clergyman,
and punished, or at least chided, for their superstition.
It is a pity the clergymen will not be at the pains of
discriminating betwixt the verses which are the pro¬
duction of superstition, and those of an innocent na¬
ture. So far are they from attending to this particu¬
lar, that they do their utmost to discourage Runic
poetry in general, and without exception ; which, part¬
ly on that account, and more owing to the natural
* Acerli's changes which time brings about in all human affairs,
Travels. is rapidly falling into disuse, and in a few years will
253 be found only in the relations of travellers. ” *
Samoiedes. The Samoiedes are shorter and thicker than the Lap¬
landers ; in other respects they resemble them very
much. They have little hair, and cover their heads
with a fur cap. Their skin coat reaches to their knees,
and is fastened round the waist with a girdle. They
have breeches, shoes, and stockings, made of the same
materials as their coats. Over their shoulders they
throw a black bear’s skin, with the feet hanging at the
four corners. This cloak is placed obliquely on the
left side, that the right arm may be more at liberty to
use their bows and arrows. On their feet they wear
a kind of skates two feet long, writh which they slide
with prodigious swiftness over the frozen snow, that
incessantly covers their mountains.
The women are capable of enduring great fatigue,
and assiduously breed up their children in the use of the
bow, which they handle with great dexterity. They
are dressed nearly like the men, except about the head.
A lock of twisted hair hangs down to their shoulders,
at the extremity of which is a knot formed of a long
slip of bark, which reaches to their heels. In this con¬
sists their finery. They hunt with their husbands, and
are equally expert in the use of their weapons. Con¬
jugal fidelity is strictly observed, and the punishment
annexed to a violation of it on either side is death.
The Samoiedes have no knowledge of the Supreme
Being ; they use, as idols, the heads of beasts of prey,
particularly those of bears, which they put up in the
woods, and fervently worship. Their priests, whom
they call Shamanns, are chosen from among such as are
advanced in years ; and they imagine that these can
reveal to them the will of their gods, foretel future
events, and perform all kinds of magical operations.
Samoiedes, in the Russian language, signifies men-
eaters, a term which denotes the barbarity of the peo¬
ple ; but there is no good reason for believing that the
term can be applied to them in its worst acceptation.
They probably derived the name from the custom they
have of eating their meat without dressing, and not
from the habit of devouring their deceased friends or
prisoners, of which they have been accused.
The Samoiedes, like the Laplanders, live in tents or
caverns, according to the season of the year. Like the
Ostiaks and Tungusians, they are exceedingly dirty in
their persons and habits. Their marriages are attended
with no other ceremony than a verbal agreement. They
call their new-born children by the name of the first
animal they meet; or if they happen to meet a rela¬
tion, he generally names the child. Their priests use
a, tabor, or an instrument very much like it, either to
1
make their conjurations, or to assist them in those arts Russia;
by which they delude their countrymen. 1 r—-
The Baschkirs form one of the military hordes of 234
wandering Tartars, which formerly roamed about the
southern part of Siberia, under the conduct of their
chiefs, and subsisted principally by plunder. They
now constitute a part of the irregular troops of the
Russian empire, and have taken up their residence
among the Ural mountains, extending to the Tartar
deserts on the borders of the rivers Oby and Tobol. In
the year 1770, they consisted of about ‘27,000 families.
Every tribe of the Baschkirs chooses its own ruler,
who is called starchirsis. The huts which they inhabit
during winter are built in the fashion of those in the
Russian villages, having a chimney of a conical form
of about five feet high in the middle of the principal
apartment, which is furnished with large benches, used
either as seats or couches. The house is usually filled
with smoke, and in its whole economy seems very much
to resemble an Irish cabin. In summer the Baschkirs
inhabit tents covered with felt, and furnished like the
huts with divisions and a chimney in the centre. A
summer encampment never exceeds 20 tents, but a
winter village contains from 10 to 50 huts.
The most opulent of these tribes are those which
dwell on the east of the Ural chain. Some individuals
of this nation possess not fewer than 4000 horses, who
fatten on the richest pastures in the valley till the month
of June, when they are compelled by wasps and other
insects to seek for shelter in the mountains. The prin¬
cipal wealth of this people consists of their flocks and
herds; but it is chiefly from their horses they derive
the necessaries of life, milk, meat, vessels, and gar¬
ments. They have some knowledge of tillage ; but as
they sow hut little grain, tlnir harvests are very ina¬
dequate to their wants ; and in general they prefer a
pastoral life. Much of their traffic consists of honey.
They apply with great success to the cultivation of bees,
making their hives in hollow trees, as a greater protec¬
tion from accidents and wild animals. Frequently one
man is the possessor of 500 or 600 of these industrious
commonwealths.
The women employ themselves in weaving, dyeing
and fulling their narrow coarse cloths, and they also
make the clothes of the whole family, while the men of
the lower classes follow the more laborious occupation
of fabricating felts, and tanning leather. Both sexes
use linen spun from the down of nettles, of which they
make wide drawers descending to-the ancles. On their
feet they wear the usual eastern slipper, and by way of
outer garment, a long gown, generally of a red colour,
bordered with fur, and fastened round the waist with
a girdle, in which is hung the dagger or seymeter.
The lower ranks in winter wear a pelice of sheep skin,
while the higher orders wear a horse’s skin, in such a
manner that the mane flows down their backs, and
waves in the wind. The head is covered with a coni¬
cal cloth cap, sometimes ornamented with fur, and
sometimes plain. The garments of the women, among
the superior classes, are of silk, buttoned before as
high as the neck, and fastened by a broad steel girdle.
Round their bosoms and throats they wear a shawl
hung with strings of beads, shells, and coins.
Their diversions are confined to religious ceremonies
and a few peculiar festivals, and consist of singing, dan¬
cings
HUS [ 419 ] R U S
Russia, cing, and horse racing. In their songs they ennme-
rate the achievements of their ancestors, or of them¬
selves, and sometimes alternate these epic poems with
love ditties. These songs are always accompanied
with appropriate gestures. In their dances they make
strange gesticulations, but the motion of the feet is
very gentle ; and the women, while using these, hold
a long silk handkerchief in their hand, which they
wave about in a wanton manner.
In their entertainments, the aged occupy seats of
honour; and when strangers are introduced, these are
placed next the old men. The language of the Basch-
kirs is a Tartar dialect, but different from that which
is spoken in the district of Kazan. Their religion is
Mahometan, and they are much addicted to all the
superstitions of the east.
The Baschkir soldiers are dexterous horsemen, and
skilful in managing the bow. They are usually cased
in shirts of mail, with shining helmets. Their ordi¬
nary weapons are a sword, a short bow, and a quiver
containing 24 arrows. They also carry a long pike,
adorned at the top with various colojired pendants.
Their horses are small, and though hardy and active,
are not at all superior in point of appearance to those
of the Kozaks.
The leaders of the Baschkirs have a very superb and
warlike appearance. They wear a shirt of mail and a
steel helmet like the common men, but over the shirt
is thrown a scarlet kaftan flowing from the shoulders
down over the backs of their horses. They also wear
large scarlet trowsers, and large boots of yellow' leather.
The saddle covering of the horses usually consists of
a leopard’s skin. See Porter s Travels, vol. ii. Plate
235 at p. 59.
m Ko- Under the article Cossacs, wre have enumerated the
several tribes of these people, and have made some re¬
marks on their manners and customs; but as the Don
Kozaks form a considerable part of the Russian armies,
we shall here add a few' remarks on these people, con¬
sidered in a military capacity.
The common men among these troops have no pay,
even in time of war, and their officers have but a very
moderate allowance. They are obliged to provide
themselves with horses, arms and clothing. Nothing is
furnished them except oatmeal and flour. Frequently
even nothing is given them but a sorry biscuit (sukare).
Thence those hideous tatters with which most of them
are covered, when they have no opportunity of plunder¬
ing, and which give them the appearance of beggars
and robbers; thence the ruinous condition of their arms,
and the bad state of their horses; thence the murders,
robberies, tires, and rapine which every where mark
their passage, and which, doubtless, would not be so
frequent, if government, less avaricious and less cruel,
provided them with even the bare necessaries of life.
They are armed with a pike from 15 to 18 feet in
length, which they hold vertically, resting on the right
stirrup, and which they couch at the moment of attack.
I he Kozak makes a very dexterous use of this pike for
leaping on his horse. With the left hand he grasps the
mane, and as soon as he has his foot in the stirrup, in¬
stead of placing his right hand on the crupper, as is ge¬
nerally done, the pike which he holds serves him as a
prop; he makes a spring, and, in the twinkling of an
eye, he is in the saddle. The Kozaks have no spurs; a
large whip suspended from the left wrist supplying their Russia
place. Besides their pike, they commonly have a bad ——v—"
sabre, which they neither like, nor well know howr to
make use of; one or two pistols in a bad condition,
and a carbine which they seldom employ.
Their horses are small, lean and stiff’, by no means
capable of a great effort, but indefatigable. Bred in
the steppes, they are insensible to the inclemency of
the season ; accustomed to endure hunger and thirst;
in a word, not unlike their masters. A Kozak will
seldom venture to expose himself against a Turk or a
Tartar, of whom he commonly has neither the address
nor the vigour: besides, his horse is neither sufficiently
supple, nor swift, nor sure-footed ; but in the end his
obstinate perseverance will tire the most active horse¬
man, and harass the most frisky steed, especially if it
be in a large plain, after a defeat. All the Kozaks,
however, are not badly armed and ill mounted. Seve¬
ral of them keep the arms and horses which they may
have been able to obtain by conquest in a campaign ;
but, in general, they had rather sell them, preferring.
their patient ponies and their light pikes. As for their
officers, they are almost all well mounted, and many
of them have good and magnificent arms, resembling
in that respect the Turks and Poles.
The Kozaks, if we except the Tschugnief brigade,
never fight in a line. They are scattered by platoons,
at the head, on the flanks, and in the rear of the arm}',
sometimes at considerable distances. They do the duty
of advanced guards, videttes, and patroles. Their acti¬
vity and vigilance are incredible. They creep and fer¬
ret every where with a boldness and address of which
none but those who have seen them can obtain an idea.
Their numerous swarms form, as it wTere, an atmosphere
round the camps and armies on a march, which they se¬
cure from all surprise, and from every unforeseen attack.
Nothing escapes their piercing and experienced eye ;
they divine, as if by instinct, the places fit for ambus¬
cades ; they read on the trodden grass the number of men
and horses that have passed; and from the traces, more
or less recent, they know how to calculate the time of
their passing. A bloodhound follows not better the
scent of his game. In the immense plains from Azof to
the Danube, in those monotonous solitudes covered with
tufted and waving grass, where the eye meets with no
tree, no object that can obstruct it, and whose melan¬
choly uniformity is only now and then interrupted by
infectious bogs and quagmires, torrents overgrown with
briars, and insulated hillocks, the ancient graves of un¬
known generations; in those deserts, in short, the roam¬
ing Kozak never misses his way. By night, the stars
direct his solitary course. If the sky is clear, he alights
from his horse at the first kurgnn that chance throws in
his way; through a long habit of exercising his sight in
the dark, or even by the help of feeling alone, he dis¬
tinguishes the herbs and plants which thrive best on the
declivity of the hillock exposed to the north or to the
south. lie repeats this examination as frequently as
the opportunity offers, and, in this manner, he follows
or finds again the direction which he ought to take for
regaining his camp, his troop, or his dwelling, or any
other place to which he is bound. By day, the sun is
his surest guide; the breath of the winds, of which he
knows the periodical course, (it being pretty regular in
these countries), likewise serves him as a compass to steer
3 G 2 by.
II U S { 420 ] E U S
Russia.
•}• Secret
Memoirs
of the court
of Peters-
burgh, vol.
iii.
236
Kozaks of
the Uk¬
raine.
by. As a new species of augury, the Kozak not un¬
willingly interrogates the birds; their number, their
species, their flight, their cry, indicate to him the pro¬
ximity of a spring, a rivulet, or a pool; a habitation, a
herd, or an army. Those clouds of Kozaks which en¬
compass the Russian armies for the safety of their en¬
campments, or of their marches, are not less formidable
to the enemy. Their resistless vigilance, their rash cu¬
riosity, their sudden attacks, alarm him, harass him in¬
cessantly, and incessantly watch and controul his mo¬
tions. In general action, the Kozaks commonly keep
at a distance, and are spectators of the battle; they
wait for its issue, in order to take to flight, or to set
out in pursuit of the vanquished, among whom their
long pike makes a great slaughter. •{•
To the account, given under Cossacs, of the inha¬
bitants of the Ukraine, we may add the following par¬
ticulars, which, though anonymous, appear to be ac¬
curately stated.
When a young woman, in the Ukraine, feels a ten¬
der passion for a young man, she goes to his parents, and
says to him, 11 Pomagac-bog, ’’ (be you blessed of God).
She then sits down, and addressing herself to the object
of her affection, makes her declaration of love in the
following terms: “ Ivan, (Theodore or whatever else
may be his name) the goodness I see written in your
Countenance, is a sufficient assurance to me, that you are
capable of ruling and loving a wife; and your excellent
qualities encourage me to hope, that you will make a
good gospodar (husband or master). It is in this belief,
that 1 have taken the resolution to come and beg you,
with all due humility, to accept me for your spouse. ”
She afterwards addresses the father and mother in
words to the same effect; and solicits them earnestly to
consent to the marriage. If she meets with a refusal,
or apology, she answers, that she will not quit the
house, till she shall have married the object of her love.
Sometimes the parents persist in their refusal; but if
the girl be obstinate, and have patience to stay a few
days or weeks in the house, they are not only forced
to give their consent, but frequently to persuade their
son to many her’. Besides, the young man is generally
moved by her perseverance and affection, and gradually
accustoms himself to the idea of making her his wife
so that the young female peasants of the Ukraine sel¬
dom fail of being provided with a husband to their mind,
if they do but possess a tolerable share of constancy.
There is no fear of their being obliged to leave the
house of the youth whom they prefer; the parents never
think of employing force, because they believe, that by
so doing, they should draw down the vengeance of
heaven upon their heads ; and to this consideration is
added, the fear of offending the girl’s family, who would
not fail to resent such behaviour as a grievous affront.
It sometimes happens, that the lord of a village in Russia.
the Ukraine, gives the peasants a dance before his door,  r-*'
and joins in it himself, with his wives and children.
(Let it be observed, that most of the villages in the
Ukraine are surrounded with thick woods, in which the
peasantry conceal themselves in the summer, when
afraid of a visit from the Tartars). Although the pea¬
sants are serfs, they have possessed, from time imme¬
morial, the right of carrying off any young woman they
like from the dance, not excepting even the daughters
of their lords, provided they do it with sufficient dex¬
terity ; for otherwise their lives pay the forfeit of their
temerity. On these occasions they watch an oppor¬
tunity of seizing their prey, and hasten to conceal
themselves in the thickest parts of the neighbouring
woods. If they can find means to stay there 24> hours
undiscovered, the rape remains unpunished, and they
are at liberty to marry the young woman, provided she
consents ; but if taken before that time expires, they
are beheaded without farther ceremony.
On Easter Monday, early in the morning, the 3roung
men assemble in the streets, lay hold of all the young
girls they meet with, and pour five or six buckets of
water on their heads. This sport is not permitted later
than 12 o’clock. The day after, the girls take their
revenge; but as they are inferior in strength, they are
forced to have recourse to stratagem. They hide them¬
selves five or six in a house, with each a jug of water in
her hand, a little girl standing sentry, and giving the
signal when she sees a young man approach. In an
instant the others rush out; surround him with loud
acclamations ; two or three of the strongest lay hold
of him; the neighbouring detacliments arrive, and the
poor devil is almost drowned with the torrents of wa¬
ter that are poured upon his head.
The men have also another amusement on Easter
Monday. They meet in the morning, and go in a
body to the lord of the manor, to whom they make a
present of fowls, and other poultry. The lord, in re¬
turn, knocks out the head of a cask of brandy, places
it in the court-yard, and ranges the peasants around.
He then takes a large ladle, fills it, and drinks to the
eldest of the company, who pledges him ; and thus it
passes from hand to hand, and from mouth to mouth,
till the cask is empty. If this happens at an early
hour, the lord sends for another, which is treated in
the same way; for he is bound to entertain the pea¬
sants till sunset. But as soon as the sun sinks beneath
the horizon, the signal of retreat is given ; and those f MontM
who are able walk away. The rest pass the night in Magaf I
the open air; and in this manner, some have beenvo1- U1‘ j
known to sleep for upwards of 24 hours, f 4411,-- ]
We have already given a general account of the Kri- Tartars [
mea and it s inhabitants. See Crimea (o). We shall the Kri j
heremea*
(o) The isthmus by which the peninsula of the Kiimea is connected with the main land, is commanded by a
fortress called by the Russians Perekop, i. e. an entrenchment of the isthmus, and by the Tartars, Or-Kapi,
the gate of the fortification. As this fortress has been mentioned only in a cursory manner, in our article
Crimea ; and as, from its commanding the entrance into the Krimea from the main land, it is a place of great
importance, we shall here give Some account of it from the travels of Professor Pallas.
The only entrance into the Krimea by land is over a bridge, and through an arched stone gate, both erected at
the side of the fortress. Contiguous to the gate, in an eastern direction, and withip the precincts of the fosse, is
the fortress of Perekop. This is a model of irregular fortification, which, together with the walls of the deep ditch,
is
n u s [ 421 j r u s
] ssla. here add some interesting particulars respecting the
u. r—' Krimean Tartars, from Professor Pallas.
The Krimea is inhabited by three classes of Tartars.
The first of these are called Nagays, and are a remnant
of that numerous horde which was lately distinguished
by the name of Kubanian Tartars, as they formerly oc¬
cupied the district of Kuban, to the east of the sea of
Azof. These Nagays, like their kinsmen in the neigh¬
bourhood of Mount Caucasus, live in small huts con¬
structed of felt, the largest of which are from 4 to 5\
archines in diameter, and cannot be taken to pieces, but
are placed by two men on carriages, and thus removed
from one place to another. They have a vent hole for
an outlet to the smoke ; and to this is applied a cover
with a handle, from which a line is suspended, for the
purpose ofoccasionally closing and opening the aperture.
Mats of reeds and wooden work, much withered and
smoked, are employed to line the sides of the huts ; for
as these tribes are destitute of timber, they are obliged
to purchase it from Taurida at a considerable expense.
The di ess of the men consists of sheep skins, and a
coarse kind of cloth, with small round caps, made of
lamb skins, and reaching no lower than the ears. The
women are dressed in close vests, over which is worn a
loose flowing gown with hanging sleeves. The girls ge¬
nerally wear Circassian caps ; and married women have
their heads covered with a veil. To their shoes are
sometimes attached cross pieces, so as to raise them
considerably from the ground.
In conformity with the usage of all Asiatic nations, a
kalbn or marriage portion, consisting, among the opu- Russia,
lent, of 40 mares, two horses completely caparisoned, '““"V—■—
a suit of armour, a gun, and a sabre, is delivered up to
the father of the bride on the celebration of the nup¬
tials. The language of the Nagays is said to vary in
many respects from that spoken in Taurida ; which lat¬
ter is a Turkish dialect. These people possess more
activity and vivacity than the inhabitants of Taurida;
but they are also more rapacious and ungovernable,
and retain a strong predilection for a wandering life.
In summer they travel with their flocks along the banks
of the rivulets, where they sow wheat and millet in re¬
mote places, and neglect all further cultivation till the
time of harvest. On the return of winter they again
approach the sea of Azof, near which they find grass
preserved for forage, and perhaps a remaining supply of
that hay which they had formerly made in the valleys.
The features of these people show them to be the
unmixed descendants of the Mongolian Tartars, who
formed the bulk of the army of Tschinghis-khan, which
invaded Russia and the Krimea.
The second class of the Krimean inhabitants consists
of those Tartars who inhabit the heaths or steppes, as
far as the mountains, especially on the north side, and
who in the district of Perekop, where they are still un¬
mixed, retain many traces of the Mongolian counte¬
nance, with a thinly scattered beard. They devote
themselves to the reariag of cattle, to a greater extent
than the mountaineers, but are at the same time hus¬
bandmen, though they pay no attention to gardening.
In
is constructed entirely of freestone. It forms an oblong square, extending along the trench which terminates
the line of defence. On the side adjoining this line, there are no outworks ; but on the other three sides, the
fort is strengthened by an additional deep fosse, the whole amounting to 158 fathoms in length, and 85 in
breadth, computing from the fosse of the line. At the north-western angle there is a pentagonal bastion,
serving as an outwork; another of a hexagonal form on the south-west, and a third with two angles at the
south-east; but at the north-eastern angle the hexagonal bastion is farther extended into the fosse, so as to
cover a narrow passage leading to a deep and excellent spring, that rises between this ditch and the interior
fortification. The chief entrance into the fortress is near the southern curtain, on the side of which a project¬
ing demibastion has been erected; but another outlet has been contrived at the eastern extremity.
The houses of the suburbs of Perekop were formerly dispersed in a very irregular manner on the southern
side of the fortress ; but they are at present situated at a distance of three versts within the country. In the
vicinity of the gate, however, there are only a few houses, partly within and partly without the line, inhabit¬
ed by Russian officers appointed at the salt magazine, or by those belonging to the garrison. Since the year
1797, the garrison of Perekop has been considerably increased.
Although the Krimea is at present united to Russia, Perekop will, on many accounts, always remain a post
of the greatest consequence; in some respects to Russia, and in others to the Krimea. If, for instance, the
plague should ever spread its baneful influence into Krim-Tartary, (an event which the constant trade carried
on with Constantinople and Anatolia may easily produce), or, if seditious commotions should arise among the
Tartars, whose loyalty is still doubtful; in these cases Perekop would effectually secure the empire, by closely
shutting the barrier. On the other hand, this fortress not only renders every attempt at desertions from the
Krimea into Russia very difficult; but if, in futur'' the project of opening free ports should be realized, and
thus the important commerce from the Black sea to tne Mediterranean and to Anatolia, be vigorously promot¬
ed, Perekop would then afford the most convenient situation for a custom-house. Farther, if the best ports
of the Krimea were appointed, in the same manner as those of Toulon and Marseilles have been selected for
all the southern parts of France, in order to establish places of quarantine for all ships navigating the Black
sea and that of Azof, so that all vessels destined for Taganrok, Kherson, and Odessa, should be obliged to
perform a certain quarantine at Sevastopol, Theodosia, and Kertsk, as has already been twice proposed; the
important pass of Perekop would for ever secure the open and more populous provinces of the interior parts of
the empire from that terrible scourge, the plague. Thus, all danger might be obviated, not only from the sea
of Azof, the coasts of which are in every direction exposed to the contagion, so that they can with difficulty
be protected ; hut also from the ports of Kherson, Nicolaef, and Odessa. At the same time, the expense of
maintaining various places for quarantines might be greatly reduced, and complete institutions of this nature
be speedily established. See Pallas's Travels, vol. ii. p. 5.
R U S [ 422 ] R U S
Rnswa. jn situations destitute of stone, they build with unbak-
* ^ ed bricks of clay, and make use of dry dung as fuel.
Of this they prepare large quantities, and pile it up in¬
to stacks like peat or turf, to serve them during win¬
ter. Nearer to the mountains, these Tartars, as well
as the nobles, are more intermixed with the Turkish
race, and exhibit few of the Kalmuk Mongolian fea¬
tures. This is particularly the case with the Krimean
nobility, in whom these peculiarities of feature are al¬
most entirely obliterated. See Pallas’s Travels, vol. ii.
Plate 21.
The third class of Krimean Tartars comprehends
the inhabitants of the southern valleys, a mixed race,
which seems to have originated from the remnants of
various nations crowded together in these regions at
the conquest of the Krimea by the armies of the Mon¬
golian leaders. These people generally display a very
singular countenance, having a stronger beard, but
Jighter hair, than the other Tartars, by whom they
are not considered as true descendants of the Tar¬
tar race, but are distinguished by the contemptuous
name of Tat (or renegado.) By their costume, they
are remarkably distinguished from the second class, or
heath Tartars ; the men among these latter wearing
outer garments, very like the loose coats or jackets
worn by the European peasants, with round close caps ;
while the Tartars of the valleys wear the usual eastern
dress, with turbans. The drerr and veils of the wo¬
men are, however, alike in both classes. See Pallas’s
Travels, vol. ii. Plates 12, 20, and 22. Their houses
or huts ax-e partly under ground, being generally con¬
structed against the steep precipices of mountains,
with one half excavated from the earth or rock, and
only the front raised with rough stones. They have
also a flat roof covered with earth.
There are among these people skilful vinedressers
and gardeners; but they are too indolent to undertake
new plantations, and avail themselves only of those
trees which have been left by their predecessors. They
also cultivate flax and tobacco ; objects of culture
which are unknown to the Tartars of the heaths.
In the costume of the Tartars inhabiting the plains,
there is some variety. Young persons, especially those
of noble or wealthy families, dress nearly in the Cir¬
cassian, Polish, or Kozak fashion, with short or slit
sleeves in the upper garment. The nobility of more
advanced age wear unslit sleeves, like the common Tar¬
tars ; and old men suffer the whole beard to grow, where¬
as the young and middle-aged wear only whiskers.
Their legs and feet are dressed in half-boots of Mo¬
rocco or other leather, or they use stockings of the
same material, especially in the towns; and over these
are worn slippers or clogs, and, in dirty weather, a
sort of stilt-shoes, like those described in the dress of
the Nagays. Their heads are either entirely shaved,
or have the hair cut very short; and they wear a high
cap, generally green, edged with black or gray lamb¬
skin, and quilted at the top with cotton. This cap is
never moved by way of compliment. Those who have
performed their pilgrimage to Mecca, are distinguish¬
ed by a white handkerchief round the edge of the cap,
this being the mark of a hadshi or pilgrim.
The physiognomy of the true Tauridan Tartars bears
a great resemblance to that of the Turks, and of most
Europeans. There are handsome, tall, robust people
among them, and few are inclined to corpulency; RussW,
their complexion is rather fair, and their hair black —
or dark brown.
The dress of the Tartar women of these two latter
classes is very different from that of the Nagays. They
are in general of low stature, owing probably to the
state of confinement in which they are kept during the
early part of their lives, though their features are tole¬
rably handsome. Young women wear wide drawers,
a shift reaching to their ancles, open before, and drawn
together at the neck ; a gown of striped silk, with long
sleeves, and adorned with broad trimmings embroider¬
ed with gold. They have also an upper garment of
some appropriate colour, with short thick Turkish
sleeves edged with gold lace, ermine, or other fur.
Both girls and married women fasten their gowns with
a heavy girdle, having in front two large buckles of
embossed or filligree work, such as were formerly in
fashion among the Russian ladies at St Petersburgh
and Moscow. Their hair is braided behind into seve¬
ral loose tresses; and the head is covered, either with
a small red cap, or with a handkerchief crossed below
the chin. Their fingers are adorned with rings, and
their nails tinged of a reddish-brown colour, with a
dye stuff called kna (derived from the lawsonia) im¬
ported from Constantinople for that purpose. Paint
is rarely employed by young women.
Married women cut off their hair obliquely over their
eyes, and leave two locks also cut transversely, hanging
down their cheeks ; they likewise bind a long narrow
strip of cloth round the head, within the ends of which
they confine the rest of the hair, and turn it up from
behind, braiding it in two large tresses. Like the Per¬
sians, they dye their hair of a reddish brown with kna.
Their under garment is more open below, but in other
respects similar to that of the unmarried women, as are
their upper dress and girdle. They paint their faces
red with cochineal ; and by way of white paint, they
use an oxide of tin, carefully prepared in small earthen
pipkins over a dung fire. They also dye the white of
the eye blue, with a preparation of copper finely pul¬
verized ; and by a particular process they change the
colour of their hair and eyebrows to a shining black,
which is retained for several months. At weddings,
or on other solemn occasions, the wealthy females fur¬
ther ornament their faces with flowers of gold leaf; co¬
lour their hands and feet, as far as the wrists and an¬
cles, of an orange hue ; and destroy all the hairs on
the body with a mixture of orpiment and lime.
Both married and single women wear yellow half¬
boots or stockings of Morocco leather ; and for walk¬
ing, they use red slippers with thick soles, and in dirty
weather put on stilt-shoes. Abroad, they wear a kind
of undress gown of a loose texture, manufactured by
themselves of white wool; wrap several coloured Tur¬
key or white cotton handkerchiefs round their heads,
and tie them below the chin ; and over all they throw
a white linen cloth reaching half way down the arms,
drawing it over the face with their right hand, so that
their black eyes alone are visible. They avoid as
much as possible the company of men ; and when they
accidentally meet a man in the street, they avei't their
face, or turn towards the wall.
Polygamy rarely occui's, even among the nobles, and
more wealthy inhabitants of the towns ; yet there are
some
II U S [ 423 1 R IJ S
some persons in the villages, who encumber themselves
- with two wives. Male and female slaves are not com¬
mon in this country ; but the nobility support numerous
idle attendants, and thus impoverish their estates; while
their chief pride consists in rich and beautiful apparel
for themselves and their wives, and in handsome equi¬
pages for riding to town, being accompanied by a train of
domestics, wdio follow them on every excursion, though
the chief employment of the latter is that of giving
their master his pipe at his demand, standing in his
presence, or assisting him to dress, and, in all other re¬
spects, living in the same indolent manner as their lords.
Another source of expense is the purchase of elegant
swords, and especially of excellent blades ; the distinc¬
tion between the different sorts of which, together with
their names, constitute among the nobles a complete
science. They are also great admirers of beautiful and
costly tobacco-pipes, together with expensive mouth¬
pieces of milk-white amber, that are likewise used by
the Turks, and of tubes of curious woods ; but the kal-
lian, or the pride of the Persians, is scarcely known
here ; and the Tartars employ only small ornamental
bowls made of clay, which are almost every moment
filled with fine-cut leaf-tobacco. The generality of
these noble lords, or Murses, were so ignorant, that they
could neither read nor write ; and instead of signing
their names, they substituted an impression of their rings,
on which a few Turkish words are engraven. Some of
the young nobility, however, are beginning to study not
only the Russian language, of which they perceive the
necessity; but also apply themselves more sedulously to
reading and writing, and thus become more civilized.
The expense of wearing apparel for the women shut up
in their harems is, according to their manner and for¬
tune, little inferior to that of Europeans ; with this
single difference, that the fashions among the former are
not liable to change. Even the waves of the common
Tartars are sometimes dressed in silks and stuffs, em¬
broidered with gold, which are imported from Turkey.
In consequence of such extravagance, and the extreme
idleness of the labouring classes, there are very few
wealthy individuals among the Tartars. Credulity and
inactivity are the principal traits in the Tartar charac¬
ter. To sit with a pipe in their hands, frequently
without smoking, for many hours on a shady bank, or
on a hill, though totally devoid of all taste for the
beauties of nature, and looking straight before them ;
or, if at work, to make long pauses, and above all to do
nothing, constitute their supreme enjoyments : for this
mode of life, a foundation is probably laid by educating
their boys in the harems. Hunting alone occasionally
excites a temporary activity in the Murses, who pur¬
sue their prey with the large species of greyhound,
very common in the Krimea; or with falcons and
hawks.
The language and mode of writing of the real Tar¬
tars differ little from those of the Turks ; but the lan¬
guage of the Nagays deviates considerably from that of
the other Tartars, as the)^ have retained numerous Mon¬
golian phrases, and make use of an ancient mode of
writing called shagaltai.
The food of the Krimean Tartars is rather artificial
for so unpolished a nation. Among the most esteemed
delicacies are, forced meat-balls wrapped in green vine
or sorrel leaves, and called sarma ; various fruits, as cu¬
cumbers, quinces, or apples, filled with minced meat ; Russia.
dolma ; stuffed cucumbers; dishes of melons, badilshan, ' v——
and hibiscus esculentus, or bamia, prepared in various
ways with spices or saffron ; all of which are served up
with rice; a\so pelaxv, or rice, boiled in meat-broth, till
it becomes dry ; fat mutton and lamb, both boiled and
roasted, &c.: colt’s flesh is likewise considered as a
dainty; and horse flesh is more commonly eaten by the
Nagays, who are still attached to their ancient custom.
The Tartars rarely kill horned cattle : mutton and
goat’s flesh constitute the food of the common people,
especially in the country, together with preparations of
milk and eggs ; butter, (which they churn and preserve
in the dry stomachs of oxen); a kind of pelaw, made
either of dried or bruised unripe wheat, and which they
call bulgur ; and, lastly, their bread is generally com¬
posed of mixed grain. Their ordinary beverage is made
by triturating and dissolving cheese in water ; the for¬
mer of which is called ya?ma, being prepared from coa¬
gulated milk, or i/ugurt; but the fashionable intoxicat¬
ing drink is an ill-tasted and very strong beer, or busa,
brewed of ground millet. Many persons also drink a
spirituous liquor, arraki, which the Tartar mountaineers
distil from various kinds of fruit, particularly plums. It
is also extracted from sloes, dogberries, elder-berries,
and wild grapes, but never from the common cherry.
They likewise boil the expressed juice of apples and
pears into a kind of marmalade, bekmess, of the con¬
sistence of a syrup, or that of grapes into nardenlc, as
it is called ; the latter preparation is a favourite deli¬
cacy, and eagerly purchased by the Tartars of the
steppes ; hence great quantities of it are imported in
deal casks from Anatolia, at a very cheap rate, for the
purpose of converting it into brandy.
In consequence of their temperate, simple, and care¬
less habits, the warm clothing which they wear through¬
out the summer, and the little fatigue which they un¬
dergo, the Tartars are liable to few diseases, and, in
particular, are generally exempted from the intermit¬
tent and bilious remittent fevers which commonly prove
so fatal to foreigners and new settlers in the Krimea.
Indeed, few disorders, except the itch and rheumatism,
prevail among them, and many of them attain to a vi¬
gorous old age. The true leprosy, which is by the
Ural Kozaks termed the Krimean disease, never occurs n,Fa^[s s
in this peninsula. *
As a mistress-market must be a curious subject to the Market for
polished nations of Europe, we shall give a specimen Circassian
of the manner in which it is carried on at Theodosia,
in the words of Mr Keehnan, a Gernran merchant, as
related by Mrs Guthrie. “ The fair Circassians, ” says
Mr Keehnan, “ of whom three were offered me for sale
in 1768, were brought from their own chamber into
mine (as we all lodged in the same inn), one-after an¬
other, by the Armenian merchant who had to dispose of
them. The first was very well dressed, and had her
face covered in the oriental style. She kissed my hand
by order of the master, and then walked backward and
forward in the room, to show me her fine shape, her
pretty small foot, and her elegant carriage. She next
lifted up her veil, and absolutely surprised me by her
extreme beauty. Her hair was fair, with fine large
blue eyes, her nose a little aquiline, with pouting red
lips. Her features were regular, her complexion fair
and delicate, and her cheeks covered.with a fine natu¬
ral.
HUS [ 424 ] li U S
Kussia ra] vermilion, of which she took care to convince me
Tlustre by rubbing them hard with a cloth. Her neck I
t ^ ; thought a little too long ; but, to make amends, the
finest bosom and teeth in the world set off the other
charms of this beautiful slave, for whom the Armenian
asked 4000 Turkish piasters (about 800^. sterling), but
permitted me to feel her pulse, to convince me she was
in perfect health ; after which she was ordered away,
when the merchant assured me, that she was a pure
virgin of 18 years of age.
“ I was more surprised than I ought to have been
at the perfect indifference with which the inhabitants of
Theodosia beheld this traffic in beauty, that had shock¬
ed me so much, and at their assuring me, when I seemed
affected at the practice, that it was the only method
which parents had of bettering the state of their hand¬
some daughters, destined at all events to the haram ; for
that the rich Asiatic gentleman who pays 4000 piasters
for a beautiful mistress, treats and prizes her as an earth¬
ly houri, in perfect conviction that his success with the
houris of Paradise entirely depends on his behaviour to
the sisterhood on earth, who will bear testimony against
him in case of ill usage ; in short, that, by being dispo¬
sed of to rich mussulmans, they were sure to live in af¬
fluence and ease the rest of their days, and in a state by
no means degrading in Mahometan countries, where
their prophet has permitted the seraglio. But that, on
the contrary, if they fell into the hands of their own
feudal lords, the barbarous inhabitants of their own
native mountains, which it is very difficult for beauty
• Mrs to escape, their lot was comparatively wretched, as
Guthrie's those rude chieftains have very little of either respect
Travels. or generosity towards the fair sex. ” *
RUST, the calx or oxide of a metal, iron, for in¬
stance, formed by exposure to the air, or by corroding
and dissolving its superficial parts by some menstruum.
Water is the great instrument or agent in producing
rust; and hence oils, and other fatty bodies, secure
metals from rust; water being no menstruum for oil,
and therefore not able to make its way through it.
Almost all metals are liable to rust. The rust of iron
is not merely an oxide of that metal; it contains, be¬
sides, a portion of carbonate.
RUSTIC, in Architecture, implies a manner of
building in imitation of nature, rather than according
to the rules of art. See Architecture.
Rustic Gods, dii rustici, in antiquity, were the gods
of the country, or those who presided over agriculture,
&c. Varro invokes the 12 dii consentes, as the princi¬
pal among the rustic gods ; viz. Jupiter, Tellus, the
Sun, Moon, Ceres, Bacchus, Rubigus, Flora, Minerva,
Venus, Lympha, and Good Luck. Besides these 12
arch-rustic gods, there were an infinity of lesser ones ;
as Pales, Vertumnus, Tutelina, Fulgor, Sterculius,
Mellona, Jugatinus, Collinus, Vallonia, Terminus, Syl-
vanus, and Priapus. Struvius adds the Satyrs, Fauns,
Sileni, Nymphs, and even Tritons; and gives the em¬
pire over all the rustic gods to the god Pan.
Rustic Order, that decorated with rustic quoins,
rustic work, &c.
Rustic IVork, js where the stones in the face, &c. of
a building, instead of being smooth, are hatched, or
, picked with the point of a hammer,
RUSTRE, in Heraldry, a bearing of a diamond
3
shape, pierced through in the middle with a round Rustie
hole. See Heraldry. II
RUT, in hunting, the venery or copulation of deer. ljt,ier‘
RUTA, Rue; a genus of plants belonging to the de-,
candria class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 26th order, Multisiliquce. See Botany Index.
Rue has a strong ungrateful smell, and a bitterish pe¬
netrating taste : the leaves, when full of vigour, are ex¬
tremely acrid, insomuch as to inflame and blister the skin,
if much handled. With regard to their medicinal vir¬
tues, they are powerfully stimulating, attenuating, and
detergent; and hence, in cold phlegmatic habits, they
quicken the circulation, dissolve tenacious juices, open
obstructions of the excretory glands, and promote the
fluid secretions. The writers on the materia medica in
general have entertained a very high opinion of the vir¬
tues of this plant. Boerhaave is full of its praises ; par¬
ticularly of the essential oil, and the distilled water co-
hobated or re-distilled several times from fresh parcels of
the herb. After extravagantly commending other wa¬
ters prepared in this manner, he adds, with regard to
that of rue, that the greatest commendations he can be¬
stow upon it fall short of its merit: “ What medicine
(says he) can be more efficacious for promoting sweat
and perspiration, for the cure of the hysteric passion
and of epilepsies, and for expelling poison ? ” What¬
ever service rue may be of in the two last cases, it un¬
doubtedly has its use in the others : the cohobated wa¬
ter, however, is not the most efficacious preparation of
it. An extract made by rectified spirit contains in a
small compass the whole virtues of the rue, this men¬
struum taking up by infusion all the pungency and
flavour of the plant, and elevating nothing in distilla¬
tion. With water, its peculiar flavour and warmth
arise ; the bitterness, and a considerable share of the
pungency, remaining behind.
Ruta Baga, or Swedish turnip. For the mode of
cultivation, see Agriculture Index.
Book of RUTH, a canonical book of the Old Tes¬
tament ; being a kind of appendage to the book of
Judges, and an introduction to those of Samuel; and
having its title from the person whose story is here
principally related. In this story are observable the
ancient rights of kindred and redemption ; and the
manner of buying the inheritance of the deceased,
with other particulars of great note and antiquity.
The canonicalness of this book was never disputed;
but the learned are not agreed about the epocha of
the history it relates. Ruth the Moabitess is found in
the genealogy of our Saviour. Matth. i. 5.
RUTILUS. See Cyprinus, Ichthyology Index.
RUTHERGLEN, or by contraction Ruglen, the
head borough of the nether ward of Lanarkshire in Scot¬
land, is situated in N. Lat. 55° 5F, and W. Long.
4° 13'; about two miles south-east of Glasgow, and
nine west of Hamilton. Few towns in Scotland can lay
greater claim to antiquity than Rutherglen. Maitland,
in his History of the Antiquities of Scotland, vol. i. p.92,
tells us, that it was founded by a King Reuther, from
whom it derived its name ; and a tradition of the same
import prevails among the inhabitants. But without
laying any stress on the authority of tradition, which is
often false and always doubtful, we find, from several
original charters still preserved, that it was erected into
• a
HUT [ 425 ] HUY
Hit'k'r- a r0yal borough by King David I. about the year
gkui. J225.
v ^ The territory under the jurisdiction of the borough
was extensive, and the inhabitants enjoyed many distin¬
guished privileges, which were however gradually wrest¬
ed from them, by political influence, in favour of Glas¬
gow, which in latter times rose into consequence by
trade and manufactures. The ancient dimensions of
the place are now unknown ; but in the fields and gar¬
dens towards the east, the foundations of houses are oc¬
casionally discovered. It is now of a very reduced size,
consisting but of one principal street and a few lanes,
and containing about 1631 inhabitants.
About 150 yards to the south of the main street is
a kind of lane, known by the name of Dins-dykes. A
circumstance which befel the unfortunate QueenMary,
immediately after her forces were routed at the battle
of Langside, has ever since continued to characterise
this place with an indelible mark of opprobrium. Her
majesty, during the battle, stood on a rising ground
about a mile from Rutherglen. She no sooner saw her
army defeated than she took her precipitate flight to the
south. Dins-d}rkes unfortunately lay in her way. Two
rustics, who were at that instant cutting grass hard by,
seeing her majesty fleeing in haste, rudely attempted to
intercept her, and threatened to cut her in pieces with
their scythes if she presumed to proceed a step further.
Neither beauty, nor even royalty itself, can at all times
secure the unfortunate when they have to do with the
unfeeling or the revengeful. Relief, however, was at
hand ; and her majesty proceeded in her flight.
Adjoining to a lane called the Back-nnv stood the
castle of Rutherglen, originally built at a period coeval,
it is reported, with the foundation of the town. This
ancient fortress underwent several sieges during the un¬
happy wars in the days of King Robert Bruce, and it
remained a place of strength until the battle of Lang¬
side ; soon after which it was destroyed by order of
the regent, to revenge himself on the Hamilton family,
in whose custody it then was. The foundations of the
buildings are now erased, and the site converted into
dwelling-houses and gardens.
The church of Rutherglen, an ancient building of the
Saxon-Gothic style, was rendered famous by two trans¬
actions, in which the fate of Sir William Wallace and
his country was deeply concerned. In it a truce was
concluded between Scotland and England in the year
1297 (Henry’s Life of Wallace, book vi. verse 862.),
and in it Sir John Monteath bargained with the Eng¬
lish to betray Wallace his friend and companion. (Life
of Wallace, book xi. verse 796.) This ancient build¬
ing having become incommodious, was, in 1794, pulled
down, and one of a modern style was erected in its
place. Buried in the area were found vast quantities
of human bones, and some relics of antiquity.
No borough probably in Britain possesses a political
constitution or sett more free and unembarrassed than
Rutherglen. It w’as anciently under the influence of a
self-elected magistracy, many ofwhom lived ata distance
from the borough, and who continued long in office
without interruption. Negligence on the one hand, and
an undue exertion of power on the other, at length ex¬
cited the burgesses, about the middle of the last century,
to apply an effectual remedy to this evil. The commu¬
nity who, at that period, possessed the power of reforra-
Von. XVIII. Part IL
ing the abuses that had long prevailed in the manage¬
ment of the borough, were much assisted in their exer¬
tions by a Mr David Spens, towm-clerk, a gentleman
unbiassed by false politics, and who wras animated with
a high degree of true patriotism. Great opposition was
at first made to the reform ; but the plan adopted by
the burgesses was wisely laid, and was prosecuted with
unremitting assiduity. They were proof against the
influence and bribery of a party that struggled to con¬
tinue the old practice ; and having at length surmount¬
ed every difficulty, they formed a new constitution or
sett for the borough, which, in 1671, was approved of
by all the inhabitants of the town, and afterwards in¬
serted in the records of the general convention of the
royal boroughs of Scotland.
Rutherglen, in conjunction with Glasgow, Renfrew,
and Dumbarton, sends a member to the British parlia¬
ment. The fairs of this town are generally well attend¬
ed, and have longbeen famous for a great show of horses,
of the Lanarkshire breed, which are esteemed the best
draught horses in Britain. The inhabitants of this bo¬
rough still retain some customs of a very remote anti¬
quity. One of these is the making of Rutherglen sour
calces. The operation is attended with some peculiar
rites, which lead us to conclude that the practice is of
Pagan origin. An account of these rites is given in
lire’s History of Rutherglen and Kilbride, p. 94.; from
whence we have taken the above account of this place,
and which we do not hesitate to recommend io the at¬
tention of such of our readers as are fond of natural and
local history, being persuaded that they will find it to
be both an useful and entertaining performance.
RUTLANDSHIRE, is the smallest county in Eng¬
land. being but 40 miles in circumference ; in which
are twm towns, 48 parishes, and in 1811, 3402 houses,
and 16,380 inhabitants. However, for quality it may
be compared with any other county; the air being good,
and the soil fertile both for tillage and pastures ; and
it not only affords plenty of corn, but feeds a great
number of horned cattle and sheep. It is well watered
with brooks ahd rivulets; and the principal rivers are
the Weland and the Wash. It is bounded on the east
by Lincolnshire; on the south by the river Weland,
which parts it from Northamptonshire ; and on the
west and north by Leicestershire. It has only two
market-towns ; namely, Okeham, where the assizes and
sessions are held, and Uppingham.
RUYSCH, Frederic, one of the most eminent ana¬
tomists of which Holland can boast, was born at the
Hague in 1638. After making great progress at home,
he repaired to Leyden, and there prosecuted the study
of anatomy and botany. He studied next at Franeker,
where he obtained the degree of doctor of physic. He
then returned to the Hague ; and marrying in 1661,
dedicated his whole time to the study of his profession.
In 1665 he published a treatise, entitled Dilucidatio val-
vularum de variis lymphaticis et lacteis; which raised
his reputation so high, that he was chosen professor of
anatomy at Amsterdam. This honour he accepted with
the more pleasure, because his situation at Amsterdam
would give him easy access to every requisite help for
cultivating anatomy and natural history. After he set¬
tled in Amsterdam, he was perpetually engaged in dis¬
secting and in examining with the most inquisitive eye
the various parts of the human body. He improved the
f 3 II ^ science
Rctiier-
gk-n.
Ruyscli.
R U Y [ 426 ] RYE
Ihiyscli. science ofanatomy by new discoveries; in particular, he
Rubier' ^oun^ out a W;1J t0 preserve dead bodies many years
. from putrefaction. His anatomical collection was curi¬
ous and valuable. He had a series of foetuses of all
sizes, from the length of the little finger to that of a
new-born infant. He had also bodies of full grown per¬
sons of ail ages, and a vast number of animals almost of
every species-on the globe, besides a great many other
natural curiosities. Peter the Great of Russia, in his
tour through Holland in the year 1698, visited Ruysch,
and was so charmed with his conversation, that he pass¬
ed whole days with.hint; and when the Irour of depar¬
ture came, he left him with- regret. He set so high a
•value on Ruysch’s cabinet of curiosities, that when he
returned to Holland in 1717, be purchased it for 30,000
florins, and sent it to> Petersburgh.
In 1685 he was made professor of medicine, an office
which he discharged with great ability. In 1728 he
got his thigh-bone broken by a fall in his chamber.
The year before this misfortune happened he had been
deprived of his son Henry, a youth of talents, and well
skilled in anatomy and botany. Pie had been created a
doctor of physic, and was supposed to have assisted his
father in his discoveries and publications. Ruysch’s fa¬
mily now consisted only of his youngest daughter. This
lady had been early inspired with a passion for anatomy,
the favourite science of her father and brother, and had
studied it with success. She was therefore well qualified
to assist her father in forming a second collection of cu¬
riosities in natural history and anatomy, which he began
to make after the emperor of Russia had purchased the
first. Ruysch is said to have been of so healthy a con¬
stitution, that though he lived to the age of 93, yet
during that long period he did not labour under the in¬
firmities of disease above a month# From the time he
broke his thigh he was indeed disabled from walking
without a support; yet he retained his vigour both of
mind and body without any sensible alteration, till in
1731 his strength at once deserted liim. He died on
the 22d of February the same year. His anatomical
works are printed in P vols 4-to.
The style of his writings is simple and concise, but
sometimes inaccurate. Instruction, and not ostentation,
seems to be his only aim. In anatomy he undoubtedly
made many discoveries ; but from not being sufficient¬
ly conversant in the writings of other anatomists, he
published as discoveries what had been known before.
The Academy of Sciences at Paris in.1727 elected him
a member in place of Sir Isaac Newton, who was late¬
ly deceased. He was also a member of the Royal So¬
ciety of London.
RPTYSCHI A, a genus of the monogynia order, be¬
longing to the pentandria class of plants ; and in the
natural method ranking with those that are doubtful.
See Botany Index. ,
RUY.TER, Michael Adrian, a distinguished na¬
val officer, was born at Flessingue, a town of Zealand,
in 1607. He entered on a seafaring life when he was
only 11 years old, and was first a cabin-boy. While he
advanced successively to the rank of mate, master, and
captain, he acquitted himself with ability and honour in
all these employments. He repulsed the Irish, who at¬
tempted to take Dublin out of the hands of the Eng¬
lish. He made eight voyages to the West Indies and
ten to Brazil. He was then promoted to the rank of
1
rear-admiral, and sent to assist the Portuguese against Ihiyter,
the Spaniards. When the enemy came in sight, he ad-
vanced boldly to meet them, and gave such unques- ~”-v—"■
tionable proofs of valour as drew from the Portuguese
monarch the warmest applause. His gallantry was
still more conspicuous before Salee, a town of Barbary,
With, one single vessel he sailed through the roads of
that place, in defiance of five Algerine corsairs who
came to attack him.
In 1653 a squadron of 70 vessels was despatched
against the English under the command of Van Tromp,
Ruyter, who accompanied the admiral hr this expedi¬
tion, seconded him with great skill and bravery in the*
three battles which the English so gloriously won. He
was afterwards stationed in the Mediterranean, where
lie captured several Turkish vessels. In 1659 he re¬
ceived a commission to join the king of Denmark in his
war with the Swedes; and he not only maintained his’
former reputation, but even raised it higher. As the
reward of his services, the king of Denmark ennobled’
him and gave him a pension. In 1661 he run ashore a -
vessel belonging to Tunis, released 40 Christian slaves,
made a treaty with the Tunisians, and reduced the Al¬
gerine corsairs to submission. His country, as a testi¬
mony of her gratitude for such illustrious services, raised’*
him to the rank of vice-admiral and commander in chief.
To the latter dignity, the highest that could be confer¬
red upon him, he was well entitled by the signal victory*
which he obtained over the combined fleets of France
and Spain. This battle-was fought in l672, about the
time of the conquest of Holland. The battle was main¬
tained between the English and Dutch with the ob¬
stinate bravery of nations which were accustomed to dis¬
pute the empire of the main. Ruyter having thus made
himself master of the sea, conducted a fleet of Indiamen
safely in to.the Texel; thus defending and enriching his ■
country, while it had become the prey of hostile invad¬
ers. The next year he had three engagements with
the fleets of France and England, in which, if possible,
his bravery was still more distinguished than ever;.
D’Estrees, the French vice-admiral, wrote to Colbert in-
these words: “ I would purchase with my life the glory
of De Ruyter. ” But he did not long enjoy the triumphs
which he had so honourably won. In an engagement
with, the French fleet off the coast of Sicily, he lost the
day, and received a mortal wound, which put an end *
to his life in a few days. His corpse w^is carried to Am¬
sterdam, and .a magnificent monumefit to his memory
was there erected by the command of the states-genera!.
Tire Spanish: council bestowed on him the title of duke,
and transmitted a patent investing him with that digni¬
ty ; but he died before it arrived.
When some person was ■ congratulating Louis XIV.
upon De Ruyter’s death, telling him he had now got
rid of one dangerous enemy ; he replied, “ Every one
must be sorry at the death of so great a man. ”
RYE. See Secale, Botany Index ; and also A-
GRIGULTURE Index.
RrE-Grass. See Agriculture Index.
Rye, a town in Sussex, with two markets on Wed¬
nesdays and Saturdays, but no fair. It is one of the
cinque-ports ; is a handsome well-built place, governed
by a mayor and jurats, and sends two members to par¬
liament. It has a church built with stone, and a town-
hall ; and consists of three streets, paved with stone..
R Y M [ 427 ] R Y S
One side of the town has been walled in, and the other
tijiiur. js gUarc|et] by the sea. It has two gates, and is a j)laee
of considerable trade in the shipping way. From thence
large quantities of corn are exported, and many of the
inhabitants are fishermen. It is 34 miles south-east by
south of Tunbridge, ami 64 from London. The mouth
of the harbour is of late choked up with sand; but, if
well opened, it would be a good station for privateers
that cruize against the French. Population in 1811,
2681. E. Long. 0. 50. -N, Lat. 51. 0.
HYMER, Thomas, Esq. the author of the Feeder a,
was born in the north of England, and educated at the
grammar-school of Northallerton. He was admitted a
scholar at Cambridge, then became a member of Gray’s
Inn, and at length was appointed historiographer to
King William in place of Mr Shadwell. He wrote A
View of the Tragedies of the last Age, and afterwards
published a tragedy named Edgar. For a critic he was
certainly not well qualified, for he wanted candour;
nor is his judgment much to be relied on, who could
condemn Shakespeare with such rigid severity. His
tragedy will show, that his talents for poetry were by
no means equal to those whose poems he has publicly
censured. But though he has no title to the appellation
of poet or critic, as an antiquarian and historian.his me¬
mory will long be preserved. His Fcedera, which is a
collection of all the public transactions, treaties, &c. of
the kings of England with foreign princes, is esteemed
one of our most authentic and valuable 1*6004x18, and is
oftener referred to by the best English historians than
perhaps any other hook in the language. It was pub¬
lished at London in the beginning of the 18th century
in 17 volumes folio. Three volumes more were added
by Sanderson after Rymer’s death. The whole were re¬
printed at the Hague in 10 vols in 17419. They wrere
abridged by Rapin in French, and inserted in Le Clerc’s
'Bibliotheque, a translation of which was made by Ste¬
phen Whatley, and printed in 4 vols 8vo, 1731.
Rymer died 14th December 1713, and was buried Rywer
in the parish church of St Clement’s Danes. Some j>vs^jc^
specimens of his poetry are preserved in the first vo-, ' c
lame of Mr Niehol’s Select Collection of Miscellane¬
ous Poems, 1780.
R\ NCHOPS, a genus of birds belonging to the
order of anseres. See Ornithology Index.
RYOTS, in the policy of Hindostan, the modern
name by which the renters of land are distinguished.
They hold their possessions by a lease, which may be
considered as perpetual, and at a rate fixed by ancient
surveys and valuations. This arrangement has been so
long established, and accords so well with the ideas of
the natives, concerning the distinction of casts, and the
functions allotted to each, that k has been invariably
maintained in all tire provinces subject either to Maho¬
metans or Europeans ; and to both it serves as the ba¬
sis on which their whole system of finance is founded.
Respecting the precise mode, however, in which the
ryots of Hindostan held their possessions, there is much
diversity of opinion; the chief of which are very im¬
partially delineated in note iv. to the Appendix of
Robertson’s Historical Disquisition, &c. concerning
India, p. 345.; to which wre refer such of our readers
as are interested in this subject of finance.
RYSWICK, a large village in Holland, seated be¬
tween the Hague and Delft, where the prince of O-
range has a palace, which stands about a quarter of a
mile farther. It is a very noble structure, all of hewn
stone, of great extent in front, but perhaps not propor-
tionably higlu It is, adorned with a marble staircase,
marble floors, and a magnificent terrace. There is a
good prospect of it from the canal between Delft and
the Hague. This place is remarkable for a treaty con¬
cluded here in 1697 between England, Germany, Hol¬
land, France and Spain. E. Long. 4. .20. N. Lafc.
52. 8.
g f, or s, the 18th letter and 14th consonant of our
•> J alphabet; the sound of which is formed by driving
the breath through a narrow passage between the pa¬
late and the tongue elevated near it, together with a
motion of the lower jaw and teeth towards the upper,
the lips being a little way open; with such a configu¬
ration of every part of the mouth and larynx, as renders
the voice somewhat sibilous and hissing. Its sound,
however, varies; being strong in some words, as this,
thus, &c. and soft in words which have a final e, as
muse, ivise, &c. It is generally doubled at the end of
words, whereby they become hard and harsh, as in hiss,
loss, &c. In some words it is silent, as isle, island, vis¬
count, &c. In writing or printing, the long character
f is generally used at the beginning and middle of
words, but the short s at the end.
In abbreviation, S stands for societas or socius; as,
ft. S. S. for regia; societatis socius, i. e. fellow* of the S.
royal society. In medicinal prescriptions, S. A. signi- Saavedra.
fies secundum artem, i. e. according to the rules of art: 'w"~v 
And in the notes of the ancients, S stands for Sextus;
S. P. for Spurius; S. C. for senatus consultim; S. P.
Q. ft. for senatus populusque llomanus; S. S. S. for
stratum superstratum, i. e. one layer above another al¬
ternately; S. V. B. E. E. Q. V. for si vales bene est, ego
quoque valeo, a form used in Cicero’s time, in the be¬
ginning of letters. Used as a numeral, S anciently de¬
noted seven; in the Italian music, signifies solo:
And in books of navigation, S stands for south ; S. E.
for south-east; S. W. for south-west; S. S. E. for
south south-east; S. S. W. for south south-west, &c.
SAAVEDRA, Michael de Cervantes, a cele¬
brated Spanish writer, and the inimitable author of Don
Quixote, was born at Madrid in the year 1541. From
9 II 2 his
S A A
[
In's infancy he was fond of books ; but he applied him¬
self wholly to books of entertainment, such as novels
and poetry of all kinds, especially Spanish and Italian
authors. From Spain he went to Italy, either to serve
Cardinal Aquaviva, to whom he was chamberlain at
Rome ; or else to follow the profession of a soldier, as
he did some years under the victorious banners of Mar¬
co Antonio Colonna. He was present at the battle of
Lepanto, fought in the year 1571 ; in which he either
lost his left hand by the shot of an harquebus, or had
it so maimed that he lost the use of it. After this, he
was taken by the Moors, and carried to Algiers, where
he continued a captive five years and a half. Then he
returned to Spain, and applied himself to the writing
of comedies and tragedies ; and he composed several,
all of which were well received by the public, and act¬
ed with great applause. In the year 1584 he published
his Galatea, a novel in six books; which he presented
to Ascanio Colonna, a man of high rank in the church,
as the first fruits of his wit. But the work which has
done him the greatest honour, and will immortalize his
name, is the history of Don Quixote; the first part of
which was printed at Madrid in the year 1605. This
is a satire upon books of knight-errantry ; and the prin¬
cipal, if rot the sole, end of it was to destroy the repu¬
tation of those hooks which had so infatuated the great¬
er part of mankind, and especially those of the Spanish
nation. This work was universally read: and the most
eminent painters, tapestry-wmrkers, engravers, and scul¬
ptors, have been employed in representing the history
of Don Quixote. Cervantes, even in his lifetime, ob¬
tained the glory of having his work receive a royal ap¬
probation. As King Philip III. was standing in a bal¬
cony of his palace at Madrid, and viewing the country,
he observed a student on the banks of the river Man-
zanares reading in a book, and from time to time
breaking off, and beating his forehead with extraordi¬
nary tokens of pleasure and delight: upon which the
king said to those about him, “ That scholar is either
mad, or reading Don Quixote:” the latter of which
proved to be the case. But virtus laudntur et ct/gei: not¬
withstanding the vast applause his book everywhere met
with, he had not interest enough to procure a small pen¬
sion, for he could scarcely keep himself from starving.
In the year 1615, he published a second part; to which
he was partly moved by the presumption of some scrib¬
bler, who had published a continuation of this work the
year before. He wrote also several novels; and among
the rest, “The Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda.’’
He had employed many years in writing this novel, and
finished it but just before his death; for he did not live
to see it published. His sickness was of such a nature
that he himself was able to be, and actually was, his
own historian. At the end of the preface to the
Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda,he represents him¬
self on horseback upon the road, and a student, who had
overtaken him, engaged in conversation with him: “ And
happening to talk of my illness (says he), the student
soon let me know my doom, by saying it was a dropsy
I had got; the thirst attending which, all the water
of the ocean, though it were not salt, would not suffice
to quench. Therefore Senior Cervantes, says he, you
must drink nothing at all, but do not forget to eat;
for this alone will recover you without any other phy¬
sic. I have been told the same by others, answered I;
a
428 } SAB
but I can no more forbear tippling, than if I were horn Saavedra
to do nothing else. My life is drawing to an end; and
from the daily journal of my pulse, I shall have finish¬
ed my course by next Sunday at the farthest.—But a-
dieu, my merry friends all, for I am going to die; and
I hope to see you ere long in the other world, as hap¬
py as heart can wish. ” His dropsy increased, and at
last proved fatal to him ; yet he continued to say and
to write bon mots. He received the last sacrament
on the 18th of April 1616; yet the day after wrote a
dedication of the Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda
to the conde de Lemos. The particular day of his
death is not known.
SABA, a Dutch island near St Eustatia in the West Raynal's
Indies. It is a steep rock, on the summit of which is Htslojy,
a. little ground, very proper for gardening. Frequent'01' lv'
rains, which do not lie any time on the soil, give growth
to plants of an exquisite flavour, and cabbages of an ex¬
traordinary size. Plfty European families, with about
one hundred and fifty slaves, here raise cotton, spin it,
make stockings of it, and sell them to other colonies
for as much as ten crowns * a pair. Throughout Ame- * i;, ^
rica there is no blood so pure as that of Saba; the wo¬
men there preserve a freshness of complexion, which is
not to be found in any other of the Caribbee islands.
Happy colony! elevated on the top of a rock between
the sky and sea, it enjoys the benefit of both elements
without dreading their storms ; it breathes a pure air,
lives upon vegetables, cultivates a simple commodity,
from which it derives ease without the temptation of
riches; is employed in labours less troublesome than
useful, and possesses in peace all the blessings of mode¬
ration, health, beauty, and liberty. This is the temple
of peace, from whence the philosopher may contemplate
at leisure the errors and passions of men, who come
like the waves of the sea, to strike and dash themselves
on the rich coasts of America, the spoils and possession
of which they are perpetually contending for, and wrest¬
ing from each other : hence may he view at a distance
the nations of Europe bearing thunder in the midst of
the ocean, and burning with the flames of ambition
and avarice under the heats of the tropics ; devouring
gold without ever being satisfied; wading through seas
of blood to amass those metals, those pearls, those dia¬
monds, which are used to adorn the oppressors of man¬
kind ; loading innumerable ships with those precious
casks, which furnish luxury with purple, and from
which flow pleasures, effeminacy, cruelty, and de¬
bauchery. The tranquil inhabitant of Saba views this
mass of follies, and spins his cotton in peace.
SAB7EANS. See Sabians.
SAB AZIA, in Greek antiquity, were nocturnal my¬
steries in honour of Jupiter Sabazius. All the initiated
had a golden serpent put in at their breasts, and taken
out at the lower part of their garments, in memory of
Jupiter’s ravishing Proserpina in the form of a serpent.
There were also other feasts and sacrifices distinguish¬
ed by this appellation, in honour of Mithras, the deity
of the Persians, and of Bacchus, who was thus deno¬
minated by the Sabians, a people of Thrace.
SABBATARIANS, or Seventh Day Baptists,
a sect of Anabaptists ; thus called, because they ob¬
served the Jewish or Saturday-Sabbath, from a per¬
suasion that it was never abrogated in the New Tes¬
tament by the institution of any other.
SABBATH,
SAB [ 429 ] 3 A B
bbath. SABBATH, in the Hebrew language, signifies rest.
<. -v 1 The seventh day was denominated the Sabbath, or day
|. of rest, because that in it God had rested from all his
1 iwnon. worjjS •vv}1;cl1 lie created and made. From that time
the seventh day seems to have been set apart for reli¬
gious services; and, in consequence of a particular in¬
junction, was afterwards observed by the Hebrews as
a holyday. They were commanded to set it apart
for sacred purposes in honour of the creation, and like¬
wise in memorial of their own redemption from Egyp-
2 tian bondage.
1 lortance q"|,e importance of the institution may be gathered
H 'n, and ^rom ^ie different laws respecting it. When the ten
J y cere- commandments were published from Mount Sinai in
r lies. tremendous pomp, the law of the Sabbath held a place
in what is commonly called the first table, and by sub
sequent statutes the violation of it was to be punished
with death. Six days wrere allowed for the use and
service of man ; but the seventh day God reserved to
himself, and appointed it to be observed as a stated time
for holy offices, and to be spent in the duties of piety
and devotion. On this day the ministers of the temple
entered upon their vreek; and those who had attended
on the temple service the preceding week went out at
the same time. New loaves of shew-bread were placed
upon the golden table, and the old ones taken aw^ay.
Two lambs for a burnt-offering, with a certain propor¬
tion of fine flour, mingled with oil, for a bread-offer¬
ing, and wine for a libation, were offered. The Sab¬
bath, as all other festivals, was celebrated from evening
to evening. It began at six in the evening on Friday,
5 and ended at the same time the next day.
leofits Concerning the time at which the Sabbath w'as first
itution. instituted, different opinions have been held. Some
have maintained, that the sanctification of the seventh
day, mentioned in Gen. ii. is only there spoken of
"Six or by anticipation; and is to be understood
of the Sabbath afterwards enjoined the children of Israel
at the commencement of the Mosaic dispensation. But
without entering into a particular examination of all the
arguments adduced to support this opinion, a few obser¬
vations, it is presumed, will be sufficient to show that it
rests on no solid foundation.
It cannot easily be supposed that the inspired pen¬
man would have mentioned the sanctification of the
seventh day amongst the primeval transactions, if such
sanctification had not taken place until 2500 years af-
terwards. Writers, ambitious of that artificial elegance
which the rules of criticism have established, often bring
together in their narratives events which were them¬
selves far distant, for the sake of giving form to their
discourse; but Moses appears to have despised all such
flimsy refinements, and to have constructed his narrative
4 in great conformity to the series of events.
‘gious From the accounts we have of the religious service
i patr;" practised in the patriarchal age, it appears that, imme-
* ial age. diately after the fall, when Adam was restored to fa¬
vour through a Mediator, a stated form of public wor¬
ship was instituted, which man was required to observe,
in testimony, not only of his dependence on the Crea¬
tor, but also of his faith and hope in the promise made
to our first parents, and seen afar of. Of an institution,
then, so grand and important, no circumstance would be
omitted that is necessary to preserve it, or that contri¬
butes to render the observance of it regular and solemn.
That determined times are neceosary for the due ce- Sabbatlf;
lebration of divine service, cannot be denied. Such is v ~
the constitution of man, that he must have particular Nece^,;ty
times set apart for particular services. He is doomed 0f stated
to toil and labour; to earn his bread in the sweat of Hays for
his face ; and is capable of performing religious du- |,Iie Per"
ties only in such a manner as is consistent with his situ- orrnancc’
ation in the world. If stated times for religious solem¬
nities had not been en j oined, the consequence would have
been, that such solemnities would have been altogether
neglected ; for experience shows, that if mankind were
left at liberty when and how often they should per¬
form religious offices, these offices would not be per¬
formed at all. It is the observation of holy times that
preserves the practice of holy services; and without the
frequent and regular returns of hallowed days, man
would quickly forget the duty which he owes to God,
and in a short time no vestige of religion would be found
in the world. e
Among the ordinances which God vouchsafed his Objections
ancient people, w^e find that the pious observation ofj0 !lie.ear"
holydays was particularly insisted upon ; and the Sab- tfon of the
bath was enjoined to be kept holy, in the most solemn Sabbath
manner, and under the severest penalties. Can it then considered
be supposed that He would suffer mankind, from the
creation of the world to the Mosaic era, to remain with¬
out an institution so expedient in itself, and as well fitted
to answer the end proposed by it, under the one dispen¬
sation, as ever it could be under the other? No ; we
have every imaginable reason to conclude, that when re¬
ligious services were enjoined, religious times were ap¬
pointed also; for the one necessarily implies the other.
It is no objection to the early institution of the Sab¬
bath, that there is no mention of it in the history of
the patriarchal age. It would have swelled the Bible
to a most enormous size, had the sacred historian given
a particular account of all the transactions of those times;
besides, it would have answered no end. When Moses
wrote the book of Genesis, it was unnecessary to re¬
late minutely transactions and institutions already well
known by tradition : accordingly we see, that his nar¬
rative is everywhere very concise, and calculated only
to preserve the memory of the most important facts.
However, if w'e take a view of the church-service of
the patriarchal age, we shall find that what is called the
legal dispensation, at least the liturgic part of it, was
no new system, but a collection of institutions observed
from the beginning, and republished in form by Moses.
The Scriptures inform us that Cain and Abel offered
sacrifices ; and the account which is given of the ac¬
ceptance of the one, and the rejection of the other, evi¬
dently shows that stated laws respecting the service had
then taken place. “ In process of time, ” at the end of
the days, “ Abel brought an offering. ” Here was
priest, altar, matter <f sacrifice, appointed time, motive to
sacrifice, atonement made, and accepted. Ihe distinction
of animals into clean and unclean before the flood, and
Noah’s sacrifice immediately after his deliverance, with¬
out any new direction, is an unanswerable proof of the
same truth. It is testified of Abraham, by God him¬
self, that he kept his charge, his commandments, his sta¬
tutes, and his Um-s. These expressions comprehend the
various branches, into which the law given at Sinai was
divided. They contain the moral precepts, affirmative
and negative, the matter of religious service, a body of
laws*
S A 'R T 430 ] S tA B
•Sabbath, laws to direct obedience, and to which man was to con-
’—'' form his conduct in every part of dut}% Agreeably to
this, we find that sacrifices were offered, altars and pla¬
ces of worship consecrated, and the Sabbath also men¬
tioned as a well-known solemnity, before the promulga¬
tion of the law. It is expressly taken notice of at the
fall of manna; and tire incidental manner in which it
is then mentioned, is a convincing proof that tire Israel¬
ites were no strangers to the institution: for had it been
a neiv one, it must have been enjoined in a positive and
particular manner, and the nature of it must have been
laid open and explained, otherwise the term would
have conveyed no meaning.
Argument The division of time into 'weeks, or periods of seven
-from the days, which obtained so early and almost universally,
vision of *" ’s a strong indication that one day in seven wats always
time into distinguished in a particular manner. Week, * and
weeks. eeven days, are in scripture language synonymous
* SOU,’ terms. God commanded Noah, seven days before he
Seven. entered the ark, to introduce into it all sorts of living
creatures. When the waters of the flood began to a-
bate, Noah sent forth a dove, which, finding no rest for
the sole of her foot, returned to him. After seven days
he sent forth the dove a second time, and again she re¬
turned to the ark. At the expiration of other seven
days he let go the dove a third time 4 and a week is
spoken of (Gen. xxix.) as a well-known space of time.
This septenary division of time has been, from the
-earliest ages, uniformly observed over all the eastern
world. The Israelites, Assyrians, Egyptians, Indians,
Arabians, and Persians, have always made use of a
week, consisting of seven days. Many vain attempts
have been made to account for this uniformity; but a
-practice so general and prevalent could never have
taken place, had not the septenary distribution of time
been instituted from the beginning, and handed down
by tradition.
From the same source also must the ancient heathens
have derived their notions of the sacredness of the
seventh day. That they had such notions of it is
evident from several passages of the Greek poets quot¬
ed by Aristobulus, a learned Jew, by Clement of A-
lexandria, and Eusebius.
 ivocuTi, U(>o'j vyceg. Hesiod.
The seventh, the sacred day.
*£Qty4fl{Ti5 o’ tTrurx y.xrvXvGw, U^ov vsyci^. Homer.
Afterwards came the seventh, the sacred day.
Again;
Locloy6)i tiftag ssjy, xxi ru) TinXiro ttxvtx.
On the seventh day all things were completed.
Evao/UXTy ttxvtx TiT-jxrxt. Linus.
All things were made perfect on the seventh day.
That they likewise held the number seven in high es¬
timation hasbeenshowmby a learned, though sometimes
* Hollo- fanciful, author, * with such evidence as to enforce con-
way .s Ori- viction. The Pythagoreans call it-the venerable num-
vol. ii.' her, <?&x<ryv worthy of veneration, and held it to be
g>. go. perfect and most proper to religion. They denominated
, itfortune, and also styled it voice, sound, muse, because, no
doubt, seven distinct notes comprehend the whole scale
of music, beyond which neither voice nor instrument can
go, but must return from the seventh, and begin again
anew. They likewise designed it leading to Sabbat:
the end. Seven, in the Hebrew language, is expressed '““v'"
by a word that primarily signifies fulness, completion,
sujfciency, and is applied to a week, or seven days, be¬
cause that was the full time employed in the work of
creation ; to the Sabbath, because on it all things were
completed; and to an oath, because it is sufficient to put
an end to all strife. This opening of the Hebrew root
will enable us to come at the meaning of those expres¬
sions of the heathens, and also let us see whence they
derived their ideas and modes of speaking, and that the
'knowledge of the transactions at the creation, though
much perverted, was never entirely lost by them.
It has been supposed by some, that the heathens bor¬
rowed the notion of the sacredness of the seventh day
from the Jews. But this opinion will not readily be ad¬
mitted, when it is considered that the Jews were held in
the greatest contempt by the surrounding nations, who
derided them no less for their sabbaths than for their cir¬
cumcision. All sorts of writers ridiculed them on this
account. Seneca charged them with spending the se¬
venth part of their time in sloth. Tacitus said, that
not only the seventh day, but also the seventh year, was
unprofitably wasted. Juvenal brings forward the same
charge; and Persius upbraided them with their recutita
sabbata. Plutarch said that they kept it in honour of
Bacchus. Tacitus affirmed, that it was in honour of
Saturn; but the most abominable assertion of all is
that of Apion, who said that they observed the Sab¬
bath in memory of their being cured on that day of a
shameful disease, called by the Egyptians sabbo.
Some perceiving the force of this objection have
contended, that time was divided into weeks of seven
days, that each of the planetary gods, the Sun, Moon,
Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, who were
the Dii mqjormn gentium, might have a day appropri¬
ated to his service. But if such was the origin of
weeks, how came the great and ancient goddess Tel-
lus to be omitted ? She was worshipped b}- the early
idolaters as well as the other planets, and must surely
have been deemed by them as worthy of a particular
day set apart to her honour as the planet Saturn, who
was long undiscovered, afterwards seen but occasion¬
ally, and at all times considered as of malign aspect.
(See 11 EM PH AN.)
Others have supposed, that as the year was divided
into lunar months of something more than 28 days, it
was natural to divide the months into quarters from the
different phases of the moon, which would produce as
many weeks of seven days. But this supposition is
less tenable than the former. The phases of the moon
are not so precisely marked at the quarters as to attract
to them any particular notice, nor are the quarterly ap¬
pearances of one month commonly like those of another.
We cannot, therefore, conceive what should have indu¬
ced the earliest observers of the phases of the moon to
divide the month into four parts rather than into three,,
or five, or seven. Had the ancient week consisted of If
days, it might have been inferred, with some degree of
plausibility, that its length was regulated by the phases
of the moon, because the shape of that luminary, at the
end of the second quarterns very precisely marked; but
there is nothing which, in the present hypothesis, could
have everywhere led mankind to make their weeks con¬
sist of seven days. This division of time, therefore,
can
SAB [ 431 ] SAB
bbatli. can bs accounted for only by admitting the primeval
» -y—■—l institution of the Sabbath, as related by Moses in the
book of Genesis. That institution was absolutely ne¬
cessary to preserve among men a sense of religion ; and
8 it was renewed to the Jews at the giving-of the law,
«j :tman-an(j }ts observance enforced by the severest penalties.
’ 'll tlie It was accordingly observed by them with more or
g ent less strictness in every part of their commonwealth;
j s ob- and there is none of the institutions of their divine
*1 ^the lawgiver which, in their present state of dispersion,
,' jaU they more highly honour. They regard it, indeed,
with a superstitious reverence, call it their sp&use, their
delight, and speak of it in the most magnificent terms.
They have often varied in their opinions of the manner
in which it ought to be kept. In the time of the Mac¬
cabees, they carried their respect for the sabbath so
very high, that they would not on that day defend
themselves from the attacks of their enemies. But
afterwards they did not scruple to stand upon their
necessary defence, although they would do nothing to
prevent the enemy from carrying on their operations.
When our Saviour was on earth, it. was no sin to loose
a beast from the stall, and lead him to water; and if
he had chanced to fall into a ditch, they pulled him
out: but now it is absolutely unlawful to give a crea¬
ture in that situation any other assistance than that of
food; and if they lead an animal to water, they must
take care not to let the bridle or halter hang loose,
9 otherwise they are transgressors.
dcof As the law enjoins rest on that day from all servile
1 'rvmo employments, in order to comply with the injunction^
modem ^iey un(^erta^e n0 kind of work on Friday but such as
. s, can easily be accomplished before evening. In the af¬
ternoon they put into proper places the meat that they
have prepared to eat the day following. They after¬
wards set out a table covered with a clean cloth, and
place bread upon it, which they also cover with another
cloth; and during the sabbath the table is never moved
out of its place. About an hour before sunset, the
women light the sabbath lamps, which hang in the
places where they eat. They then stretch forth their
hands to the light, and pronounce the following bene¬
diction. “ Blessed be thou, O God, king of the
world, who hast enjoined us, that are sanctified by thy
commandments, to light the sabbath lamp. ” These
lamps are twro or more in number, according to the size
of the chamber in which they are suspended, and con¬
tinue to burn during the greatest part of the night. In
order to begin the sabbath well, they wash their hands
and faces, trim their hair, and pare their nails, begin¬
ning at the fourth finger, then going to the second,
thenthefifth, then the third; and endingwith the thumb.
If a Jew casts the parings of his nails to the ground,
he is rascah, that is, a nicked man; for Satan has
great power over those parings of nails ; and it seems
they are of great use to the wizards, who know how
to employ them in their enchantments. If he buries
them in the earth, he is tzedic, that is, vtjust man: if he
burns them in the fire, he is chesid, that is, worthy of
honour, an holy man. When they have performed these
preparatory ceremonies, they repair to the synagogue,
and enter upon their devotions. As soon as prayers
begin, the departed souls spring out of the purgatorial
"flames, and have liberty to cool themselves in water
while the sabbath lasts; for which reason the Jews pro¬
long the continuance of it as much as they can; and tllft ‘AiA.-nlir
Rabbins have strictly commanded them ret to exhaust ^ v*““J
all the water on the sabbath day, lest those miserable
souls should by that means he deprived of the refreshing
element. When they have ended their prayers, they
return home, and salute one another, by wishing a good
sabbath. They then sit down to table. The master of
the family takes a cup full of wine, and lifting up liis
hand, says, “ Blessed he thou, O God our Lord, king1
of the world, who hast created the fruit of the vine 
Blessed he thou* O God our Lord, king of the world,
who hast sanctified us by thy commandments, and given
us thy holy sabbath ; and of thy good will and pleasure
hast left it to us an inlveritance, the memorial of thy
works of creation. For it is the beginning of the con¬
gregation of saints, and the memorial of the coming
out of Egypt. And thou hast also chosen us from all
other people, and sanctified us, and with love and plea¬
sure hast left thy holy sabbath an inheritance. Blessed
be thou, O God, who sanctifiest the sabbath.” After
this benediction is ended, he chunks, and gives the cup
to all that are present. He then removes the cloth,;
and taking bread, says, “ Blessed be thou, O God our
Lord, king of the world, who hringest bread out of
the earth. ” Then he breaks off a bit, and eats, and
also gives a piece of it to every one of the company.
On the morning of the sabbath, the Jews do not
rise so early as they do at other times; thinking, the
greater pleasure they-take on that day, the more de¬
voutly they keep it. When they come into the syna¬
gogue, they pray as usual, only the devotions are some¬
what longer, being intermingled with psalmody, in ho¬
nour of the sabbath. The pentateuch is then produced,
and seven sections of it are read in orderby seven per¬
sons chosen for the purpose. Several lessons are likewise
read out of the prophets, which have some relation to
what was read out of the law. After morning prayers
they return to their houses, and eat the second sabbath-
meal, showing every token of joy, in honour of the fes¬
tival. But if one has seen any thing ominous in his
sleep; if he has dreamed that he burnt the book of the-
law ; that a beam has come out of the walls of his
house ; that his teeth have fallen out;—then he firsts'
until very late at night, for all such dreams are bad ones.
In the afternoon they go again to the synagogue, and-
perform the evening service, adding to the ordinary
prayers some lessons thatrespect the sabbath. When the'
devotional duties are ended, they return home, and light
a candle resembling a torch, and again sit down to eat.
They remain eating until near six, and then the master
of the family takes a cup, and pouring wine into it re¬
hearses some benedictions; after which he pours a lit¬
tle of the wine upon the ground, and says, “ Blessed he
thou, O Lord, King of the world, who hast created the
fruit of the vine. ” Then holding the cup in his left
hand, with the right he takes a box of sweet spices, and
says, “ Blessed be thou, O Lord God, who hast created'
various kinds of sweet spices. ” He smells the spices^
and holds them out to the rest, that they may do the
same. He then takes the cup in his right hand, and
going to the candle views the left very narrowly, and
pronounces a blessing. With the cup in the left hand,
he examines the right in the same manner. Again, hold¬
ing the cup in his right hand, he rehearses another be¬
nediction, and at the same time pours some of the wine.
on.
S A B [ 432 ] SAB
■Sabbath, on the ground. After this lie drinks u little of it, and
' then hands i tab out'to the rest of the family, who finish
what remains. In this manner the sabbath is ended by
the Jews, and they may return to their ordinary em¬
ployments. Those who meet pay their compliments,
10 by wishing one another a happy week.
Prohibi- The Rabbins have reckoned up nine and thirty pri-
served'b" mary prohibitions, which ought to be observed on the
L ’ sabbatic festival; but their circumstances and depend¬
ents, which are also obligatory, are almost innumerable.
The 39articles are, Not to till the ground; to sow;
to reap ; to make hay ; to bind up sheaves of corn ; to
thrash ; to winnow ; to grind ; to sift meal; to knead
the dough ; to bake; to shear ; to whiten ; to comb or
card wool; to spin ?• to twine or twist; to warp ; to
dye ; to tie; to untie; to sew; to tear or pull in pieces;
to build ; to pull down ; t-o beat with a hammer ; to
hunt or fish ; to kill a beast; to flay it; to dress it; to
scrape the skin; to tan it; to cut leather; to write;
to scratch out; to rule paper for writing ; to kindle a
fire; to extinguish it; to carry a thing from place to
place ; to expose any thing to sale. These are the pri¬
mary prohibitions, and each of these has its proper con¬
sequences, which amount to an incredible number ; and
the Jew's themselves say, that if they could keep but
two sabbaths as they ought, they would soon be deli¬
vered out of all their troubles.
If a Jew on a journey is overtaken by the sabbath
in a wood, or on the highway, no matter w'here, nor
under what circumstances, he sits dowrn ; he will not
-stir out of the spot. If he falls down in the dirt, he
lies there ; he will not rise up. If he should tumble
into a privy, he would rest there : he would not be ta¬
ken out. (a). If he sees a flea skipping upon his clothes,
he must not catch it. If it bites him be may only re¬
move it with his hand ; he must not kill it; but a louse
meets with no such indulgence, for it may be destroy¬
ed. He must not wdpe his hands with a towrel or cloth,
but he may do it very lawfully with a cow’s tail. A
fresh wound must not be bound up on the sabbath day;
a plaster that had been formerly applied to a sore may
remain on it; but if it falls off, it must not be put on
anew. The lame may use a staff, but the blind must
not. These particulars, and a great many more of the
same nature, are observed by the Jew's in the strictest
manner. But if any one wishes to know more of the
practice of that devoted race, he may consult Buxtorf s
Judaica Synagoga, chap. x. xi. where he will find a
complete detail of their customs and ceremonies on the
sabbath ; and likewise see the primary prohibitions
2 2 branched out into their respective circumstances.
Institution As the seventh day was observed by the Jewish
of Sunday church, in memory of the rest of God after the
lord’s da - wor^s creation, and their own deliverance from Pha-
‘'' raoh’s tyranny ; so the first day ©f the week has always
been observed by the Christian church, in memory of
the resurrection of Jesus Christ, by which he completed
the work of man’s redemption on earth, and rescued
him from the dominion of him who has the power of SumJ
death. t iw..... y.
This day was denominated by the primitive Chris¬
tians the Lord’s day. It wras also sometimes called
Sunday ; which was the name given to it by the hea¬
thens, who dedicated it to the sun. And indeed, al¬
though it was originally called Sunday by the heathens,
yet it may very properly retain that name among Chri¬
stians, because it is dedicated to the honour of “ The
true light,” which lighteth every man that coraeth into
the wmrld; of Him who is styled by the prophet “ The
Sun of righteousness, ” and who on this day arose from
the dead. But although it w'as, in the primitive times,
indifferently called the Lord’s day or Sunday, yet it
was never denominated the sabbath ; a name constantly
appropriated to Saturday, or the seventh day, both by
sacred and ecclesiastical writers. j
Of the change from the seventh to the Jirst day of The roll
the week, or even of the institution of the Lord’s day jj011®/ 11
festival, there is no account in the New' Testament,
However, it may be fairly inferred from it, that the accidei;
first day of the week was, in the apostolic age, a stated
time for public worship. On this day the apostles were
assembled, when the Holy Ghost came down so visibly
upon them to qualify them for the conversion of the
world. On this day we find St Paul preaching at
Troas, when the disciples came to break bread : and
the directions which the same apostle gives to the Co¬
rinthians concerning their contributions for the relief
of their suffering brethren, plainly allude to their reli¬
gious assemblies on the first day of the week.
Thus it would appear from several passages in the
New Testament, that the religious observation of the
first day of the week is of apostolical appointment; and
may indeed be very reasonably supposed to be among
those directions and instructions which our blessed
Lord himself gave to his disciples, during the 40 days
betw'een his resurrection and ascension, wherein he
conversed with them, and spoke of the things pertain¬
ing to the kingdom of God. Still, however, it must
be owned that those passages, although the plainest
that occur, are not sufficient to prove the apostolical
institution of the Lord’s day, or even the actual obser¬
vation of it. In order, therefore, to place the matter
beyond all controversy, recourse must be had to eCi
clesiastical testimony.
From the consentient evidence and uniform practice
of the primitive church, and also from the attestation of
Pliny, an heathen of no mean figure both in learning
and power, we find that the first day of the week was
observed in the earliest ages as a holyday or festival, in
honour of the resurrection of Christ. Now there are
but two sources whence the custom could possibly have
arisen. It must have been instituted either by human
or divine authority : by human authority it was not
instituted; for there was no general council in those
early times, and without the decree of a general coun¬
cil it was impossible that any ecclesiastical institution
could
(a) This, it seems, was once really the case. A Jew of Magdeburg fell into a privy on a Saturday. He
might have been taken out; but he told those who offered him their assistance to give themselves no trouble ;
for there he was determined to keep holy the sabbath day. The bishop, when he heard of it, resolved that he
should sanctify the next day also in the same place ; and so betwixt them, the poor Jew lost his life.
s
A B
[ 433 ]
$ A B
ibbath. coutH have been universally established at once. It re*
‘ 1 mains, therefore, that it must have been instituted by
! nwr ^’vl'nc authority: and that it really was so, will far-
less it ther appear from the following considerations. It is
; ears to certain that the apostles travelled over the greatest
I rf ch- part of the world, and planted churches in the remo-
’ ‘ ou‘ test parts of it. It is certain also that they were all
ded by the same spirit; and their desire was, that
unity and uniformity should be observed in all the
churches which they had founded. It is not therefore
surprising that, in the primitive times, the same doc¬
trine, the same worship, the same rites and customs,
should prevail all over the Christian world; nay, it
would have been unaccountable had the case been
otherwise. For this reason wc may conclude that every
custom, universally observed in the early ages of the
Christian church, and not instituted by a general coun-
14 cil, was of original appointment.
rpose for As the Lord’s day is sanctified, that is, set apart to
dV110 ^kr*st*ans f°r the worship and service of God, their
was Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, a little conside-
ituted. ration will easily discover how it ought to be observed.
Although a day separated from worldly business, yet
it is in no sense a day of idleness, but a season ap¬
propriated to the works of salvation and labours of
15 charity.
,w1it In the primitive times this holy day was observed in
in the *16 most; solemn manner. From the monuments of
mitive those early ages we learn, that it was -spent in a due
es. and constant attendance on all the offices of divine wor¬
ship. On it they held their religious assemblies, in
which the writings of the apostles and prophets were
read to the people, and the doctrines of Christianity
/further pressed upon them by the exhortations of the
clergy. Solemn prayers and praises were offered up to
•God, and hymns sung in honour of Christ; the Lord’s
supper was constantly celebrated; and collections were
made for the maintenance of the clergy and the relief
of the poor. On this day they abstained, as much as
they could, from bodily labour. They looked upon it
•as a day of joy and gladness ; and therefore all fasting
on it was prohibited, even during the season of
lent, their great annual fast.—Such was the zeal of
vthose times, that nothing, no not the severest persecu¬
tions, hindered them from celebrating holy offices on
this day. They were often beset and betrayed, and
as often slaughtered in consequence of cruel edicts from
emperors, those very emperors for whose happiness and
prosperity they always offered up their fervent prayers.
• For this cause, when they could not meet in the day¬
time, they assembled in the morning before it was light;
tmd when sick, in exile, or in prison, nothing troubled
them more than that they could not attend the service
of the church. No trivial pretences were then admit¬
ted for any one’s absence from public worship; for se¬
vere censures were passed upon all who were absent
without some urgent necessity. When the empire be¬
came Christian, Constantine and his -successors made
laws for the more solemn observation of the Lord’s day.
They prohibited all prosecutions and pleadings and
other juridical matters to be transacted on it, and also
all unnecessary labour; not that it was looked upon as a
Jewish sabbath, but because these things were consider¬
ed as inconsistent with the duties of the festival.
But although the primitive Christians did not in-
You XVIII. Part II.
dulge themselves in the practice of unnecessary labour Sabbath.
or trifling amusements, yet they did not wholly abstain ' y—~
from working, if great necessity required it. The
council of Laodicea enjoined that men should abstain
from work on the Lord's day if possible ; but if any
were found to judaize, they were to be censured as
great transgressors. So circumspect were the primi¬
tive Christians about their conduct on this festival,
that on the one hand they avoided all things which
tended to profane it, whilst on the other they censur¬
ed all those who insisted it should be observed with
Pharisaical rigour. u;
The primary duty of the Lord's day is public Ivor- Advanta-
ship. The nature and design of the Christian religion F8 Jiesu!t"
sufficiently shows the necessity and importance of as- the obser-
sembling for the duties of devotion. The whole scope nation of
of Christianity is to bring us to an union with God, iu
which cannot be obtained or preserved without fre¬
quent communications with him.; and the reasons
which show religious intercourse to be the indispen¬
sable duty of Christians in a private capacity, will
bind it with equal or mere force on them considered
as a community.
The advantages of public worship, when duly per¬
formed, are many and great. There are two, however,
which deserve to be considered in a particular manner.
It gives Christians an opportunity of openly professing
their faith, and testifying their obedience to their Re¬
deemer in the wisest and best manner; and in an age
when atheism lias arisen t© an alarming height, when
the Son of God is crucified afresh, -and put to open
shame, every man, who has any regard for religion,
will cheerfully embrace all opportunities of declaring
his abhorrence of the vicious courses pursued by those
degenerate apostates. He will with pleasure lay hold
on every occasion to testify that he is neither afiraid nor
ashamed to confess the truth; and will think it his in¬
dispensable duty openly to disavow the sins of others,
that he may not incur the guilt of partaking of them.
Public worship preserves in the minds of men a sense
of religion, without which society could not exist. No¬
thing can keep a body of men together and unite them
in promoting the public good, but such principles of
action as may reach and govern the heart. But these
can be derived only •'from a sense of religious duties,
which can never be so strongly impressed upon the mind
as by a constant attendance upon public worship. No¬
thing can be more weak than to neglect the public wor¬
ship of God, under the pretence that we can employ
ourselves -as acceptably to our Maker at home in our
closets. Both kinds of worship are indeed necessary;
but one debt cannot be paid by the discharge of ano¬
ther. By public worship every man professes his belief
in that God whom, he adores, and appeals to Him for
his sincerity, of which his neighbour cannot judge. By
this appeal he endears himself more or less to others.
It creates confidence; it roots in the heart benevolence,
and all other Christian virtues, which produce, in com¬
mon life, the fruits of mutual love and general peace.
People in general are of opinion that the duties of
the Lord’s day are over when public worship is ended.
But they seem to forget for what purposes the day was
set apart. It is not only appropriated to the duties of
public worship, but also sanctified to our improvement
in the knowledge of the doctrines of Christianity. It
Sabbath,
Sabbath-
Breaking,
SAB
is an institution calculated to alleviate the condition of
the laborious classes of mankind, and, in consequence of
that, to afford rest to beasts also. It is proper, it is ne¬
cessary, that man should reflect on his condition in the
world, that lie-should examine the state of his soul, and
inquire what progress he has made in that work which
was given him to do. Those that have children or ser¬
vants are obliged to look after their instruction as well
as their own. These are the ends which the institution
of Sunday was designed to answer. Every man must
allow that these things must be done at some time or
other; but unless there be set times for doing them, the
generality of mankind would wholly neglect them.
Visiting and travelling (though very common) are
enormous profanations of this holy day. Families, are
thereby robbed of their time ; a loss for which no amends
can ever be made them : Servants, instead of having
leisure to improve themselves in spiritual knowledge,
are burdened with additional labour : And, in a man of
any humanity, it must excite many painful sensations,
when he reflects how often the useful horse on that day
experiences all the anguish of hunger, torn sides, and
battered knees. Every kind of amusement, every kind
of common labour, is an encroachment on the particular
duties of the Lord’s day ; and consequently men pro¬
fane the day by spending it in any amusements, or un¬
dertaking upon it any ordinary employment, unless it
be a work of absolute necessity.
Sabbath- Breaking, or profanation of the Lord’s day,
is punished by the municipal laws of England. For
besides the notorious indecency and scandal of permit¬
ting any secular business to be publicly transacted on
that day in a country professing Christianity, and the
corruption of morals which usually follows its profana¬
tion, the keeping one day in seven holy, as a time of
relaxation and refreshment, as well as for public wor¬
ship, is of admirable service toa state, considered mere¬
ly as a civil institution. It humanizes, by the help of
conversation and society, the manners of the lower
glasses; which would otherwisedegenerate into a sordid
ferocity and savage selfishness of spirit: it enables the
industrious workman to pursue his occupation in the
ensuing week with health and cheerfulness : it imprints
on the minds of the people that sense of their duty to
God so necessary to make them good citizens ; but
which yet would be worn out and defaced by an unre¬
mitted continuance of labour, without any stated times
of recalling them to the worship of their Maker. And
therefore the laws of King Athelstan forbade all mer¬
chandizing on the Lord’s day, under very severe pe¬
nalties. And by the statute 27 Hen. VI. c. 5. no fair
or market shall be held on the principal festivals, Good-
ffriday, or any Sunday (except the four Sundays: in har¬
vest), on pain of forfeiting the goods exposed to sale.
And, since, by the statute 1 Car. I. c. 1. no persons
shall assemble, out of their own parishes, for any sport
whatsoever, upon this day ; nor, in their parishes, shall
use any bull or bear-beating, interludes, plays, or other
unlawful exercises or pastimes on pain that every of¬
fender shall pay 3s. 4d. to the poor. This statute does
not prohibit, but rather impliedly allows, any innocent
recreation or amusement, within their respective pa¬
rishes, even on the Lord’s day, after divine service is
over. But by statute 29 Car. II. c. 7. no person is al¬
lowed to work on the Lord’s day, or use any boat or
SAB
barge, or expose any goods to sale, except irieat in Sabbaft-
public houses, milk at certain hours, and works of ne- Breaking
cessity or charity, on forfeiture of 5s. Nor shall any
drover, carrier, or the like, travel upon that day, un-,
der pain of 20s.
S ABELLIANS, a sect of Christians of the 3d cen¬
tury, that embraced the opinions of Sabeilius, a phi¬
losopher of Egypt, who openly taught that there i&
but one person in the Godhead.
The Sabellians maintained, that the Word and the
Holy Spirit are only virtues, emanations, or functions
of the Deity; and held, that he who is in heaven is
the Father of all things; that he descended into the vir¬
gin, became a child, and was born of her as a son ; and
that having accomplished the mystery of our salvation,,
he diffused himself on the apostles in tongues of fire,
and was then denominated the Holy Ghost. This they
explained by resembling God to the sun, the illumina¬
tive virtue or quality of which was the Word, and its
warming virtue the Holy Spirit. The Word, they
taught, was darted, like a divine ray, to accomplish
the work of redemption ; and that being re-ascended
to heaven, the influences of the Father were commu¬
nicated after a like manner to the apostles.
S ABIANS, an early sect of idolaters, which con¬
tinues to this day, and worships the sun, moon, and
stars. See Polytheism, N3 10, 11, 12.
SABINA, a province of Italy, in the territories of
the church ; bounded on the north by Umbria, on the
east by Farther Abruazo, on the south by the Cam-
pagna of Rome, and on the west by the patrimony of
St Peter. It is 22 miles in length, and almost as much
in breadth ; watered by several small rivers, and a-
bounding in oil and wine. There is no walled town
in it; and Magliano is the principal place.
SABINUS, George, a celebrated Latin poet, born
in the electorate of Brandenburg in 1508. His poem
Res gestee Cccsarum Germanonnn, spread his reputation
all over Germany, and procured him the patronage of
all the princes who had any regard for polite literature:
he was made professor of the belles lettres at Frankfort
on the Oder, rector of the new academy of Konings-
burg, and counsellor to the elector of Brandenburg.
He married two wives, the first of whom was the eld¬
est daughter of the famous reformer Melancthon ; and
died in 1560. His poems are well known, and have
been often printed.
SABLE, or Sable Animal, in Zoology, a creature
of the weasel-kind, called by authors mustela zibellina*.
See Mustela, Mammalia Index.
The chase of these animals, in the more barbarous
times of the Russian empire, was the employment, or
rather task, of the unhappy exiles in Siberia. As that
country is now' become more populous, the sables have
in a great measure quitted it, and retired farther north
and east, to live in desert forests and mountains : they
live near the banks of rivers, or in the litele islands in
them; on this account they have, by some, been
posed to,be the of Aristotle (Hist. An. lib. viii.,
c. 5.) which he classes with the animals conversant
among waters.
Ac present the hunters of sables form themselves in¬
to troops, from five to forty each : the last subdivide in--
to lesser parties, and each chooses a leader; but there is-
one that directs the whole :■ a small covered boat is
i provided
r 434 ]
SAB l
provided for each party, loaded with provisions, a do^
and net for every two men, and a vessel to bake their
bread in : each party also has an interpreter for the
country they penetrate into. Every party then sets
out according to the course their chief points out:
they go against the stream of the rivers, drawing their
boats up, till they arrive in the hunting country ; there
they stop, build huts, and wait till the waters are froz¬
en, and the season commences : before they begin the
chase, their leader assembles them, when they unite in
a prayer to the Almighty for success, and then sepa¬
rate : the first sable they take is called God’s sable,
and is dedicated to the church.
They then penetrate into the woods; mark the trees
as they advance, that they may know their way back;
and in their hunting quarters form huts of trees, and
bank up the snow round them: near these they lay
their traps ; then advance farther, and lay more traps,
still building new huts in every quarter, and return
successively to every old one to visit the traps, and
take out the game to skin it, which none but the chief
of the party must do: during this time they are sup¬
plied with provisions by persons who are employed to
bring it on sledges, from the places on the road, where
they are obliged to form magazines, by reason of the im¬
practicability of bringing quantities through the rough
country they must pass. The traps are a sort of pit-
fall, with a loose board placed over it, baited withfi sh
or flesh : when sables grow scarce, the hunters trace
them in the new-fallen snow to their holes; place their
nets at the entrance ■; and sometimes wait, watching
two or three days for the coming out of the animal:
it has happened that these poor people have, by the
failure of their provisions, been so pinched with hun¬
ger, that, to prevent the cravings of appetite, they have
been reduced to take two thin boards, one of which
they applied to the pit of the stomach, the other to the
back, drawing them tight together by cords placed at
the ends : such are the hardships our fellow-creatures
undergo to supply the wantonness of luxury.
The season of chase being finished, the hunters re¬
assemble, make a report to their leader of the number of
sables each has taken ; make complaints of offenders
against their regulations ; punish delinquents; share
the booty ; then continue at the head-quarters till the
rivers are clear of ice ; return home, and give to every
church the dedicated furs.
Sable, Cape, the most southerly province of Nova
Scotia, in North America, near which is a fine cod-
fishery. W. Long. 65. 34'. N. Lat. 43. 24.
Sable Isle is adjoined to this cape, and the coasts of
both are most commodiously situated for fisheries.
Sable. Trade, the trade carried on in the skins or
furs of sables ; of which the following commercial his¬
tory was translated by Mr J. R. Forster from a Russian
performance on that subject by Mr Muller.
“ Sable; soble, in Russian ; zoble in German. Their
price varies from 1/. to 10/. sterling and above : fine
and middling sable-skins are without bellies, and the
coarse ones are with them. Forty skins make a collec¬
tion called zimmer. The finest sables are sold in pairs
perfectly similar, and are dearer than single ones of the
same goodness ; for the Russians want those in pairs
for facing caps, cloaks, tippets, &c. the blackest are
reputed the best. Sables are in season from November
to February; for those caught at any other time of
3
435. ] SAB
the year are short-haired, and then called nedosoboU. Sable.
Fhe hair of sables differs in length and quality: the v—
long hairs, which reach far beyond the inferior ones,
are called os ; the more a skin has of such long hairs,
the blacker it is, and the more valuable is the fur ; the
very best have no other but those long and black hairs.
Motchka is a technical term used in the Russian fur-
trade, expressing the lower part of the long hairs ; and
sometimes it comprehends likewise the lower and short¬
er hairs : the above-mentioned best sable furs are said
to have a black motchka. Below the long hairs are,
in the greater part of the sable furs, some shorter hairs,
called podosie, i. e. under-os ; the more podosie a fur
has, it is the less valuable : in the better kind of sables
the podosie has black tips, and a gray or rusty motchka.
The first kind of motchka makes the middling kind of
sable furs; the red one the worst, especially if it has
but few os. Between the os and podosie is a low woolly
kind of hair, cvdledi podsada. The more podsada a fur
has, the less valuable : for the long hair will, in such
case, take no other direction than the natural one; for
the characters of sable is, that notwithstanding the hair
naturally lies from the head towards the tail, yet it will
lie equally in any direction as you strike your hand
over it. The various combinations of these characters,
in regard to os, motchka, podosie, and podsada, make
many special divisions in the goodness of furs : besides
this, the furriers attend to the size, preferring always,
caderis paribus, the biggest, and those that have the
greatest gloss. The size depends upon the animal being
a male or a female, the latter being always smaller.
The gloss vanishes in old furs: the fresh ones have a
kind of bloomy appearance, as they express it; the old
ones are said to have done blooming : the dyed sables
always lose their gloss ; become less uniform, whether
the lower hairs have taken the dye or not; and com¬
monly the hairs are somewhat twisted or crisped, and
not so straight as in the natural ones. Some fumigate the
skins, to make them look blacker ; but the smell, and
the crisped condition of the long hair, betrays the cheat;
and both ways are detected by rubbing the fur with a
moist linen cloth, which grows black in such cases.
“ The Chinese have a way of d}Teing the sables, s©
that the colour not only lasts (which the Russian cheats
-cannot do), but the fur keeps its gloss, and the crisped
hairs only discover it. This is the reason that all the
sables, which are of the best kind, either in pairs or se¬
parate, arc carried to Russia ; the rest go to China.
The very best sables come from the environs of Nert-
chitsk and Yakutsk; and in this latter district, the coun¬
try about the river Ud affords sometimes sables, of
which one single fur is often sold at the rate of 60 or
TO rubles, 12/. or 14/. The bellies of sables, which
are sold in pairs, are about two fingers breadth, and
are tied together by 40 pieces, which are sold from 1/.
to 2/. sterling. Tails are sold by the hundred. The
very best sable furs must have their tails ; but ordinary
sables are often cropped, and 100 sold from 4/. to 8/.
sterling. The legs or feet of sables are seldom sold se¬
parately ; white sables are rare, and no common mer¬
chandize, but bought only as curiosities : some are yel¬
lowish, and are bleached in the spring on the snow. ”
Sable, in Heraldry, signifies black ; and is borrow¬
ed from the French, as are most terms in this science :
in engraving it is expressed by both horizontal and per-
pendicular lines crossing each other. Sable of itself sig-
3 12 nifies
Sable
II.
Saccharuni.
SAC [ 436 ] S A C
nifies constancy, learning, and grief ; and ancient he¬
ralds will have it, that when it is compounded with
Or. r Honour.
Arg. £ ,” \ Fame.
Gul. ^ Respect.
Azu. ^ Application.
Ver. V .-« / Comfort.
Pur. ) LAusterity.
The occasion that introduced this colour into heraldry
is thus related by Alexander Nisbet, p. 8. The duke
of Anjou, king of Sicily, after the loss of that king¬
dom, appeared at a tournament in Germany all in
black, with his shield of that tincture, sente de larmes,
i. e. besprinkled with drops of water, to represent
tears, indicating by that both his grief and loss.
SABLESTAN, or Sablustan, a province of Asia,
in Persia, on the frontiers of Indostan; bounded on
the north by Khorasan; on the east, by the moun¬
tains of Balk and Candahar; on the south, by Sages-
tan or Segestan ; and- on the west, by Heri. It is a
mountainous country, very little known to Europeans;
nor is it certain which is the capital town.
SABRE, a kind of sword or scimitar, with a very
broad and heavy blade, thick at the back, and a little
falcated or crooked towards the point. It is the ordi¬
nary weapon worn by the Turks, who are said to be
very expert in the use of it.
SABURRA, in Medicine, usually denotes any col¬
lection of half putrid indigested matter in the stomach
and intestines, by which the operation of digestion is
impeded.
SABURRAii, Gritts, in Natural History; a kind
©f stone, found in minute masses. They are of vari¬
ous colours, as stony and sparry gritts, of a bright or
grayish white colour ; red stony gritts; green stony
gritts ; yellow gritt; blackish gritts.
SAC/E A, a feast which the ancient Babylonians
and ether orientals held annually in honour of the deL-
ty Anaitis. The Sacoea were in the East what the
Saturnalia were at Rome, viz. a feast for the slaves.
One of the ceremonies Avas to choose a prisoner con¬
demned to death, and allow him all the pleasures and
gratifications he would wishj before he were carried
to execution.
S ACCADE, in the manegCj is a jerk more or less
violent, given by the horseman to the horse, in pull¬
ing or twitching the reins of the bridle all on a sud¬
den and with one pull, and that when a horse lies
heavy upon the hand, or obstinately arms himself;
This is a correction used to make ahorse carry well;
but it ought to be used discreetly, and but seldom.
SACERDOTAL, something belonging to priests.
See Priest.
SACCULUS, in Anatomy, a diminutive of saccus,
signifies a little bag, and is applied to many parts of
the body.
SACCHARUM, Sugar, or the Sugar-Cane, a ge¬
nus of plants belonging to the triandria class; and in
the natural method ranking under the 4th order, Gra-
mina^ See Botany Index.
This plant is a native of Africa, the East Indies,
and of Brazil; from whence it was introduced into our
West India islands soon after they were settled. The
sugar-cane is the glory and the pride of those islands.
It amply rewards the industrious planter, enriches the
British merchant, gives bread to thousands of manu- Saccharum
facturers and seamen, and brings an immense revenue 11 •
to the crown. For the process of making sugar, see Sachevcre!*
Sugar. ’ J
Sugar, formerly aduxury, is now become one of the
necessaries of life. Ih crop-time every negro on the
plantations, and ever)'animal, even the dogs, grow fat.
This sufficiently points out the nourishing and healthy
qualities of sugar. It has been alleged, that the eating
of sugar spoils the colour of, and corrupts, the teeth;
this, however, proves to be a mistake, for no people on
the earth have finer teeth than the negroes in Jamaica.
Dr Alston, formerly professor of botany and materia
medfca at Edinburgh, endeavoured to obviate this vul¬
gar opinion: he had a fine set of teeth, which he ascrib¬
ed solely to his eating great quantities of sugar. Ex¬
ternally too it is often useful: mixed with the pulp of
roasted oranges, and applied to putrid or ill-disposed
ulcers, it proves a powerful corrector.
SACCHAROMETER, an instrument for ascer¬
taining the value of worts, and the strength of different'
kinds off malt liquor. The name signifies a measure of
sweetness. An instrument of this kind has been invent¬
ed by a Mr Richardson of Hull, on the following prin¬
ciple. The menstruum or water employed by the
brewer, becomes more dense by the addition of such
parts of the materials as have been dissolved or extract¬
ed by, and thence incorporated with it: the operation
of boiling, and its subsequent cooling, still adds to the
density of it by evaporation ; so that when it is sub¬
mitted to the action of fermentation, it is denser than
at any other period.
In passing through this natural operation, a remark¬
able alteration takes place. The fluid no sooner begins-
to ferment than its density begins to diminish; and as
the fermentation is more or less perfect, the ferment- *
able matter, whose accession has been traced by the
increase of density, becomes more or less attenuated ;,
and in place of every particle thus attenuated, a spiri¬
tuous particle, of less density than water, is produced';'
so that when the liquor is again in a state of rest, it is
so much specifically lighter than it was before, as the
action of fermentation has been capable of attenuating-
the component parts of its acquired density; and if
the M'hole were attenuated in this manner, the liquor
would become lighter, or less dense than water, be¬
cause the quantity of spirit prodttced from the fer¬
mentable matter, and occupying its place, would di¬
minish the density of the water in some degree of pro¬
portion to that in which the latter has increased it.
S ACHEVEREL, Dr Henry, a famous clergyman
of the Tory faction in the reign of Queen Anne; who
distinguished himself by indecent and scurrilous sermons
and writings againstthe dissenters andrevolution princi¬
ples. Fie owed his consequence, however, to being in¬
discreetly prosecuted by the house of lords for his assize-
sermon at Derby, and his 5th of November sermon at
St Paul’s in 1709; in which he asserted the doctrino
of non-resistance to government in its utmost extent;
and reflected severely on the act of toleration. The
high and low church parties were very violent at that
time; and the trial of Sachoverel inflamed the high*
church party to dangerous riots and excesses : he was,
however, suspended for three years, and his sermons
burned by the common hangman. The Tories being
in administration when Sacheverel’s suspension expired*,
lie
SAC [ 437 ] S A C
wel-he was freed with every circumstance of honour and
public rejoicing; was ordered to preach before the
c', commons on the 29th of May, had the thanks of the
house for his discourse, and obtained the valuable rec¬
tory of St Andrew’s, Holborm
SACK, a wine used by our ancestors, which some
have taken to be Rhenish and some Canary wine.—
Venner, in his Via Recta ad Vitam Longam, printed in
1628, says that sack is “ completely not in the third
degree, and that some affect to drink sack with sugar
and some without; and upon no other ground, as I
think, but as it is best pleasing to their palate,” He goes
on to say, “ that sack, taken by itself, is very hot and
very penetrative; being taken with sugar, the heat is
bothsomewhat allayed, andthepenetrative quality there¬
of also retarded.” He adds farther, that Rhenish, &c.
decline after a twelvemonth, but sack and the other
stronger wines are best when they are two or three years
©Id. It appears to be highly probable that sack was not
a sweet wine, from its being taken with sugar, and that
it did not receive its name from having a saccharine fla¬
vour, but from its being originally stored in sacks or
borachios. It does not appear to have been a French
wine, but a strong wine the production of a hot cli¬
mate. Probably it was what is called dry mountain, or
some Spanish wine of that kind. This conjecture is
the more plausible, as Howell, in his French and Eng¬
lish Dictionary, printed in the year 1650, translates
sack by the words vin d’Espagne, vin sec.
Sack of Wool, a quantity of wool containing just 22
stones, and every stone 14 pounds. In Scotland, a sack
is 24 stones, each stone containing 16 pounds.
Sack of Cotton Wool, a quantity from one hundred
and a half to four hundred weight.
Sacks of Earth, in Fortification, are canvas bags filled
with earth. They are used in making entrenchments in
haste, to place on parapets, or the head of the breaches,
&c. to repair them, when beaten down.
SACK BUT, a musical instrument of the wind kind,
being a sort of trumpet, though different from the com¬
mon trumpet both in form and size; it is fit to play a
bass, and is contrived to be drawn out or shortened^
according to the tone required, whether grave or acute.
The Italians call it trombone, and the Latins tuba duc-
tilis.
SACKVILLE, Thomas, Lord Buchhurst and Earl
of Dorset, a statesman and poet, the son of Richard
Sackville, Esq. of Buckhurst, in the parish of Wi-
thian in Sussex, was born in the year 1536. He was
sent to Hart-hall in Oxford, in the latter end of the
reign of Edward VI. whence he removed to Cambridge,
w here he took a master of arts degree, and thence to
the Inner Temple. He now applied himself to the
study of the law, and wras called to the bar. We are
told that he commenced poet whilst at the universities,
and that these his jqvenile productions were much ad¬
mired, none of which, however, have been preserved.—
In the fourth and fifth year of Queen Mary, we find him
a member of the house of commons; about wrhich time,
in 1557, he wrote a poetical piece, entitled The In¬
duction, or The Mirror of Magistrates. This last was
meant to comprehend all the unfortunate Great from the
beginning of our history ; but the design being drop¬
ped, it was inserted in the body of the work. The
Mirror, of Magistrates is formed on a dramatic plan ;
in which the persons are introduced speaking. The In¬
duction is written much in the style of Spencer, who,
with some probability, is supposed to have imitated this
author.
In 1561, his tragedy of Gorboduc was acted before
Queen Elizabeth by the gentlemen of the Inner Temple.
This was the first tolerable tragedy in our languages
The Companion to the Playhouse tells us, that the
three first acts were written by Mr Tho. Norton. Sir
Philip Sidney, in his Apology for Poetry, says, “ it is
full of stately speeches, and well-sounding phrases,
climbing to the height of Seneca in his style, &c. ”
Rymer speaks highly in its commendation. Mr Spence,,
at the instigation of Mr Pope, republished it in 1736,
with a pompous preface. It is said to be our first dra¬
matic piece written in verse.
In the first parliament of this reign, Mr Sackville
was member for Sussex, and for Bucks in the second*
In the mean time he made the tour of France and
Italy, and in 1566 was imprisoned at Rome, when ho
was informed of his father’s death, by which he be¬
came possessed of a very considerable fortune.
Having now obtained his liberty, he returned to^
England ; and being first knighted, was created Lord
Buekhurst. In 1570 he was sent ambassador to France.
In 1586 he was one of the commissioners appointed to
try the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots; and was the
messenger employed to report the confirmation of her
sentence, and to see it executed. The year following
he went ambassador to the States General, in conse¬
quence of their complaint against the earl of Leicester;
who, disliking his impartiality, prevailed on the queen to
recal him, and confine him to his house. In this state
of confinement he continued about 10 months, when
Leicester dying, he was restored-to favour, and in 1580
was installed knight of the Garter: but the most incon¬
trovertible proof of the queen’s partiality for Lord
Buckhurst appeared in the year 1591, when she caused
him to be elected chancellor in the university of Ox¬
ford, in opposition to her favourite Essex. In-1598, on
the death of the treasurer Burleigh, Lord Buckhurst
succeeded him, and by virtue of his office became in
effect prime minister ; and when, in 1601, the earls of
Essex and Southampton were brought to trial, he sat
as lord high steward on that awful occasion.
On the accession of James I. he was graciously re¬
ceived, had the office of lord high treasurer confirmed
to him for life, and was created earl of Dorset. He
continued in high favour with the king till the day of
his death, which happened^ suddenly, on the 16th of
April 1608, in the council chamber at Whitehall.
Fie was interred with great solemnity in Westminster
abbey. Fie was a good poet, an able minister, and an
honest man. From him is descended the present noble
family of the Dorsets. “ It were needless (says Mr
Walpole) to add> that he was the patriarch of a race-
of genius and wit. ”
Sackville, Charles, earl of Dorset, a celebrated wit
and poet, descended from the foregoing, was born in
1637. He was, like Villiers, Rochester, Sedley,
one of the libertines of King Charles’s court, and some¬
times indulged himself in inexcusable excesses. He
openly discountenanced the violent measures of James
II. and engaged early for the prince of Orange, by whom
he was made lord chamberlain of tlie household, and
taken.-
SAC T 438 1 SAC
itaken into the -privy eouncii. He died in 1706, and
'Sacrament. }eft severai poetical pieces, which, though not consider-
able enough to make a volume by themselves, may be
found among the works of the minor poets, published in
1749.
SACH AMENT is derived from the Latin word
sacramentum, which signifies an oath, particularly the
oath taken by soldiers to be true to their country and
general. The words of this oath, according to Poly¬
bius, were, obtemperaturus sum el Jacturas quicquid man-
dabitur ab imperatoribus juxta vires* The word was
adopted by the writers of the Latin ^church, and em¬
ployed, perhaps with no great propriety, to denote those
ordinances of religion by which Christians came under
an obligation, equally sacred with that of an oath, to
observe their part of the covenant of grace, and in
which they have the assurance of Christ that he will
fulfil his part of the same covenant.
Of sacraments, in this sense of the word, Protestant
churches admit of but two ; and it is not easy to con¬
ceive how a greater number can be made out from Scrip¬
ture, if the definition of a sacrament be just which is
given by the church of England. By that church, the
meaning of the word sacrament is declared to be “ an
outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual
grace given unto us, ordained by Christ himself as a
means whereby we receive the same, and a pledge to
assure us thereof. ” According to this definition, bap¬
tism and the Lord’s Supper are certainly sacraments;
for each consists of an outward and visible sign of what is
believed to be an inward and spiritual grace: both were
ordained by Christ himself, and by the reception of each
does the Christian come under a solemn obligation to be
true to his divine master, according to the terms of
the covenant of grace. (See Baptism and Supper of
the Lord.) The Romanists, however, add to this num¬
ber confirmation, penance, extreme unction, ordination^
and marriage, holding in all seven sacraments; but two
of those rites not being peculiar to the Christian church
cannot possibly be Christian sacraments, in contradis¬
tinction to the sacraments or obligations into which men
of all religions enter. Marriage was instituted from the
beginning, when God made man male and female, and
commanded them to he fruitful, and multiply and re¬
plenish the earth; and penance, as far as it is of the same
import with repentance, has a place in all religions
which teach that God is merciful, and men fallible.—
The external severities imposed upon penitents by the
church of Rome (see Penance) may indeed be in
some respects peculiar to the discipline of that church,
though the penances of the Hindoos are certainly as ri¬
gid ; but none of these severities were ordained by Christ
himself as the pledge of an inward and spiritual grace ;
nor do they, like baptism and the Lord’s Supper, bring
men under obligations which are supposed to be analo¬
gous to the meaning of the word sacramentum. Con¬
firmation has a better title to the appellation of a sa¬
crament than any of the other five popish rites of that
name, though it certainly was not considered as such by
the earliest writers of the Christian church, nor does it
appear to have been ordained by Christ himself, (see
Confirmation.) Ordination is by many churches
considered as a very important rite; but as it is not ad¬
ministered to all men, nor has any particular form ap¬
propriated to it in the New Testament, it cannot be
considered as a Christian sacrament conferring grace Sactame
generaliy necessary to salvation. It is rather a form of H ’
authorising certain persons to perform certain offices, Sacre
which respect not themselves but the whole church; and"" ^
extreme unction is a rite which took its rise from the
miraculous powers of the primitive church vainly claim¬
ed by the succeeding clergy. (See Ordination and
Extreme Unction.) These considerations seem to have
some weight with the Romish clergy themselves ; for
they call the eucharist, by way of eminence, the holy
sacrament. Thus to expose the holy sacrament, is to
lay the consecrated host on the altar to be adored.—.
The procession of the holy sacrament is that in which
this host is carried about the church, or about a town.
Numerous as we think the sacraments of the Romish
church,,a sect of Christians sprung up in England early
in the current century who increased their number.—
The founder of this sect was a Dr Deacon, we think,
of Manchester, where the remains of it subsisted very
lately, and probably do so at present. According to
these men, every rite and every phrase in the book called
the Apostolical Constitutions were certainly in use among
the apostles themselves. Still, however, they make a dis¬
tinction between the greater and the lesser sacraments.
The greater sacraments are only two, Baptism and the i
Lord’s Supper. The lesser" are no fewer than .ten, viz.
tfive belonging to baptism, exorcism, anointing ivith oil,
the xvhite garment, a taste of milk and honey, and anoint¬
ing with chrism or ointment. The other five are, the
sign of the cross, imposition of hands, unction of the sick,
holy orders, and matximony. Of the nature of these
lesser sacraments, or the grace which they are supposed
to confer, our limits will permit us to give no account.
—Nor is it necessary that we should. The sect which
taught them, if not extinguished, is certainly in its last
wane. It has produced, however, one or two learned
men; and its founder’s Full, True, and Comprehensive
View of Christianity, in two Catechisms, is a work
which the Christian antiquary will read with pleasure
for information, and the philosopher for the materials
which it contains for meditation on the workirgs of the
human mind. It was published in Bvo, in the vear
1748.
Congregation of the Holy Sacrament, a religious e-
stablishment formed in France, whose founder was Au-
therius, bishop of Bethlehem, and which, in 1644, re¬
ceived an order from Urban VIII. to have always a
number ef ecclesiastics ready to exercise their ministry
among pagan nations, wherever the pope, or congrega¬
tion depropaganda, should appoint.
SACR AMENT ARIANS, a general name given to
all such as have published or held erroneous doctrines
-of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. The term is
-dhiefly applied among Roman Catholics, by way of re¬
proach, to the Lutherans, Calvinists, and other Pro¬
testants.
SACRAMENTARY, an ancient Romish church-
book, which contains all the prayers and ceremonies
practised at the celebration of the sacraments.
It was wrote by Pope Gelasius, and afterwards re¬
vised, .corrected, and abridged, by St Gregory.
SACRE, or Saker, in Ornithology, the name of a
species of falcon, called by authors falco sacer, and difr
ferently described by different authors, but by all agreed
to be an extremely bold and active bird. It is a native
of
SAC [ 439 ] SAC
ere of the northern regions of Europe; and a variety, call-
II ed by some writers the speckled partridge hatvk, is found
f 1 ce‘ at Hudson’s bay, North America.
“ ' SACRED, something holy, or that is solemnly of¬
fered and consecrated to God, with benedictions, unc¬
tions, &c.
Kings, prelates, and priests, are reckoned sacred
persons; abbots are only blessed.—The deaconhood,
sub-deaconhood, and priesthood, are all sacred orders,
and are said to impress a sacred indelible character.
The custom of consecrating kings with holy oil is de¬
rived (says Gutlingius) from the Hebrews; among
whom, he agrees with Grotius, it was never used but
to kings who had not an evident right by succession.
He adds, that the Christian emperors never used it
before Justin the younger; from whom he takes it to
have passed to the Goths, &c.
Sached is also applied to things belonging to God
and the church. Church-lands, ornaments, &c. are
held sacred.—The sacred college is that of the cardi¬
nals.
Sacred Majesty, is applied to the emperor and to
the king of England; yet Loyseau says it is blasphe¬
my. See Majesty. The ancients held a place struck
with thunder as sacred. In the civil law, sacred place
chiefly denotes that where a person deceased has been
interred.
Sacred Elixir. See Elixir.
SACRIFICE, an offering made to God on an altar,
by means of a regular minister, as an acknowledgement
of his power, and a payment of homage. Sacrifices
(though the term is sometimes used to comprehend all
the offerings made to God, or in any way devoted to his
service and honour) differ from mere oblations in this,
that in a sacrifice there is a real destruction or change
of the thing offered; whereas an oblation is only a
simple offering or gift, without any such change at all:
thus, all sorts of tythes, and first fruits, and whatever
of men’s worldly substance is consecrated to God, for
the support of his worship and the maintenance of his
ministers, are offerings or oblations ; and these, under
the Jewish law, were either of living creatures or other
things : but sacrifices, in the more peculiar sense of the
term, w^ere either wholly or in part consumed by fire.
They have by divines been divided into bloody and
unbloody. Bloody sacrifices wrere made of living crea¬
tures ; unbloody of the fruits of the earth. They have
also been divided into expiatory, impetratory, and cu-
charistical. The first kind were offered to obtain of
God forgiveness of sins ; the second, to procure some
favour; and the third, to express thankfulness for fa¬
vours already received. Under one or other of these
heads may all sacrifices be arranged ; though we are
told, that the Egyptians had 666 different kinds, a
number surpassing all credibility.
Concerning the origin of sacrifices very various opi¬
nions have been held. By many, the Phoenicians are
supposed to have been the authors of them ; though
Porphyry attributes their invention to the Egyptians;
and Ovid imagines, from the import of the name victim
and hostia, that no bloody sacrifices were offered till
wars prevailed in the world, and nations obtained vic¬
tories over their enemies. These are meee hypotheses
contradicted by the most authentic records of anti¬
quity, and entitled to no regard.
By modern deists, sacrifices are said to have had their Sacrifice.'
origin in superstition, which operates much in the same '■■--v—
way in every country. It is therefore weak, according
to those men, to derive this practice from any parti¬
cular people; since the same mode of reasoning would
lead various nations, without any intercourse with each
other, to entertain the same opinions respecting the na¬
ture of their gods, and the proper means of appeasing
their anger. Men of gross conceptions imagine their
deities to be like themselves, covetous and cruel. They
are accustomed to appease an injured neighbour by a
composition in money; and they endeavour to com¬
pound in the same manner with their gods, by rich of¬
ferings to their temples and to their priests. The most
valuable property of a simple people is their cattle*
These offered in sacrifice are supposed to be fed upon
by the divinity, and are actually fed upon by his
priests. If a crime is committed which requires the
punishment of death, it is accounted perfectly fair to
appease the deity by offering one life for another; be¬
cause, by savages, punishment is considered as a debt
for which a man may compound in the best way that
he can, and which one man may pay for another.
Hence, it is said, arose the absurd notions of imputed .
guilt and vicarious atonement. Among the Egyp¬
tians, a white bull was chosen as an expiatory sacri¬
fice to their god Apis. After being killed at the altar*
his head was cut off, and cast into the river, with the
following execration: “ May all the evils impending
over those who perform this sacrifice, or over the
Egyptians in general, be averted on this head. ” * * Herodd-
Had sacrifice never prevailed in the world but amongriw, lib. ih ■
such gross idolaters as worshipped departed heroes,
who were supposed to retain in their state of deifica¬
tion all the passions and appetites of their mortal state*:
this account of the origin of that mode of worship
would have been to us perfectly satisfactory. We
readily admit, that such mean notions of their gods may
have actually led far distant tribes, who could not derive
any thing f rom each other through the channel of tra¬
dition, to imagine that beings of human passions and
appetites might be appeased or bribed by costly offer¬
ings. But we know from the most incontrovertible
authority, that sacrifices of the three kinds tlxat we
have mentioned were in use among people who wor¬
shipped the true God, and who must have had very
correct notions of his attributes. Now we think it im¬
possible that such notions could have led any man to fan¬
cy that the taking away of the life of a harmless animal,
or the burning of a cake or other fruits of the earth in
the fire, would be acceptable to a Being self-existent,
omnipotent, and omniscient, who can neither be in¬
jured by the crimes of his creatures, nor receive any
accession of happiness from a thousand worlds.
Sensible of the force of such reasoning as this, some
persons of great name, who admit the authenticity of
the Jewish and Christian scriptures, and firmly rely on
the atonement made by Christ, are yet unwilling (it is
difficult to conceive for what reason) to allow that sa¬
crifices were originally instituted by God. Of this way
of thinking were St Chrysostom, Spenoer, Grotius, and
Warburton, as were likewise the Jews Maimonides, R.
Levi, Ben Gerson, and Abarbanel. The greater part
of these writers maintain, that sacrifices were at first a
human institution; and that God, in order to prevent
their
SAC [ 440 ] SAC
‘‘Sacrifice, then- being offered to idols, introduced them into his
service, though he did not approve of them as good in
ithemselves, or as proper rites of worship. That the in¬
finitely wise and good God should introduce into his
service improper rites of worship, appears to us so ex¬
tremely improbable, that we cannot but wonder how
-such an opinion should ever have found its way into the
minds of such men as those who held it. Warburton’s
theory of sacrifice is much more plausible, and being
more lately published, is worthy of particular examina¬
tion.
According to this ingenious prelate, sacrifices had
their origin in the sentiments of the human heart, and
in the ancient mode of conversing by action in aid of
•words. Gratitude to God for benefits received is na¬
tural to the mind of man, as well as his bounden duty.
* Divine “ This duty (says the bishop *) was in the most early
J.ez. b. ix. ti,nes discharged in expressive actions, the least equivo¬
cal of which was the offerer’s bringing the first fruits of
pasturage or agriculture to that sequestered place where
the Deity used to be more solemnly invoked, at the sta¬
ted times of public worship; and there presenting them
in homage, with a demeanor which spoke to this pur-
ose—‘ I do hereby acknowledge thee, O my God ! to
e the author and giver of all good : and do now, with
humble gratitude, return my warmest thanks for these
thy blessings particularly bestowed upon me. ”—Things
thus devoted became thenceforth sacred : and to pre¬
vent their desecration, the readiest way was to send
them to the table of the priest, or to consume them in
the fire of the altar. Such, in the opinion of our author,
was the origin of eucharistical sacrifices. Impetratory
or precative sacrifices had, he thinks, the same origin,
and were contrived to express by action an invocation
for the continuance of God's favour. “ Expiatory sa¬
crifices (says the learned prelate) were in their own na¬
ture as intelligible, and in practice as rational, as either
of the other two. Here, instead of presenting the first
fruits of agriculture and pasturage, in corn, wine, oil,
and wool, as in the eucharistical, or a portion of what
was to be sown or otherwise propagated, as in the im¬
petratory, some chosen animal, precious to the repent¬
ing criminal who deprecates, or supposed to be obnox¬
ious to the Deity who is to be appeased, was offered up
and slain at the altar, in an action which, in all lan¬
guages, when translated into words, speaks to this pur¬
pose :—‘ I confess my transgressions at thy footstool, O
my God ! and with the deepest contrition implore thy
pardon; confessing that I deserve death for those my
offences. ’—The latter part of the confession was more
forcibly expressed by the action of striking the devoted
animal, and depriving it of life ; which, when put into
words, concluded in this manner.—‘ And I own that
I myself deserve the death which I now inflict on this
animal. ’ ”
This system of sacrifice, which his lordship thinks so
well supported by the most early movements of simple
nature, we admit to be ingenious, but by no means sa¬
tisfactory. That mankind in the earlier ages of the
worldwereaccustomed to supply the deficiencies of their
language by expressive gesticulations we are not inclin¬
ed to controvert: the custom prevails among savage na¬
tions, or nations half civilized, at the present day. His
lordship, however, is of opinion, and we heartily agree
.with him, that our first parents were instructed by God
to make articulate sounds significant of ideas, notions, SwriGto
and things (see Language, N° 6.), and not left to '—r-
fabricate a language for themselves. That this heaven-
taught language could be at first copious, no man will
suppose, who thinks of the paucity of ideas which those
who spoke it had to express ; but when we consider its
origin, we cannot entertain a doubt but that it was pre¬
cise and perspicuous, and admirably adapted to all the
real purposes of life. Among these purposes must sure¬
ly be included the worship of God as the most import¬
ant of all. Every sentiment therefore which enters in¬
to worship,gratitude, invocation, confession, and depre¬
cation, the progenitors of mankind were undoubtedly
taught to clothe in words the most significant and une¬
quivocal ; but we know from Moses, whose divine lega¬
tion the bishop surely admitted, that Cain and Abel,
the eldest children of our first parents, worshipped God
by the rites of sacrifice: and can we suppose that this
practice occurred to them from their having so far for¬
gotten the language taught them by their father, as to
be under the necessity of denoting by action what they
could not express by words ? If this supposition be ad¬
mitted, it will force another upon us still more extrava¬
gant. Even Adam himself must, in that case, have
become dumb in consequence of his fall; for it is not
conceivable, that as long as he was able to utter arti¬
culate sounds, and affix a meaning to them, he would
cease, in the presence of his family, to confess his sins,
implore forgiveness, and express his gratitude to God
for all his mercies.
The right reverend writer, as if aware of some such
objection as this to his theory, contends, that if sa¬
crifices had arisen from any other source than the
light of reason, the Scripture would not have been
silent concerning that source; “ especially since we
find Moses carefully recording what God immediately,
and not nature, taught to Adam and his family. Had
the original of sacrifice, says he, been prescribed, and
directly commanded by the Deity, the sacred histo¬
rian could never have omitted the express mention of
that circumstance. The two capital observances in the
Jewish ritual were the Sabbath and Sacrifices. To
impress the highest reverence and veneration on the
Sabbath, he is careful to record its divine original: and
can wre suppose that had sacrifices had the same origi¬
nal, he would have neglected to establish this truth at
the time that he recorded the other, since it is of equal
use and of equal importance ? I should have said, in¬
deed, of much greater ; for the multifarious sacrifices
of the law had not only a reference to the forfeiture of
Adam, but likewise prefigured our redemption by Je¬
sus Christ. ”
But all this reasoning was foreseen, and completely
answered before his lordship gave it to the public. It
is probable, that though the distinction of weeks was
well known over all the eastern world, the Hebrews,
during their residence in Egypt, were very negligent
in their observance of the Sabbath. To enforce a reli¬
gious observance of that sacred day, it became necessary
to inform them of the time and occasion of its first in¬
stitution, that they might keep it holy in memory of
the creation ; but, in a country like Egypt, the people
were in danger of holding sacrifices rather in too high
than too low veneration, so that there was not the same
necessity for mentioning explicitly the early institution
SAC [ 441 ] SAC
lacrifice. of them. It was sufficient that they knew the divine in-
—stitation of their own sacrifices, and the purposes for
which they were offered. Besides this, there is reason
to believe, that, in order to guard the Hebrew's from
the infections of the heathen, the rite of sacrificing was
loaded with many additional ceremonies at its second in¬
stitution under Moses. Itrnight, therefore, be improper
to relate its original simplicity to a rebellious people,
who would think themselves ill-used by any additional
burdens of trouble or expense, however really necessary
to their happiness. Bishop Warburton sees clearly the
necessity of concealing from the Jews the spiritual and
refined nature of the Christian dispensation, lest such a
•backsliding people should, from the contemplation of
it, have held in contempt their own economy. This,
he thinks, is the reason why the prophets, speaking of
the reign of the Messiah, borrow their images from the
Mosaic dispensation, that the people living under that
dispensation might not despise it from perceiving its
end; and we think the reason will hold equally good for
their lawgiver concealing from them the simplicity of
the first sacrifices, lest they should be tempted to mur¬
mur at their own multifarious ritual.
But his lordship thinks that sacrifices had their ori¬
gin from the light of natural reason. We should be
glad to know' what light natural reason can throw upon
such a subject. That ignorant pagans, adoring as
gods departed heroes, who still retained their sensual
appetites, might naturally think of appeasing such be¬
ings with the fat of fed beasts, and the perfumes of the
altar, we have already admitted ; but that Cain and
Abel, who knew that the God whom they adored has
neither body, parts, nor passions ; that he created and
sustains the universe; and that from his very nature he
must will the happiness of all his creatures, should be
led by the light of natural reason to think of appeasing
him, or obtaining favours from him, by putting to death
harmless animals, is a position, which no arguments of
his lordship can ever compel us to admit. That Abel’s
sacrifice was indeed accepted, we know ; but it wras not
accepted because it proceeded from the movements of
the human mind, and the deficiency of tiie original lan¬
guage, but because it was offered through faith. The
light of natural reason, however, does not generate
faith, but science ; and wdien it fails of that, its off¬
spring is absurdity. “ Faith is the substance of things
hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, ” and comes
not by reasoning but by hearing. What things then
were they of which Abel had heard, for which he hoped,
and in the faith of which he offered sacrifice ? Un¬
doubtedly it was a restoration to that immortality which
was forfeited by the trangression of his parents. Of
such redemption, an obscure intimation had been given
to Adam, in the promise that the seed of the woman
should bruise the head of the serpent; and it was doubt¬
less to impress upon his mind in more sticking colours
the manner in which this w as to be done, that bloody
«e pro- sacrifices were first instituted. * As long as the im-
^ port of such rites was thus understood, they consti¬
tuted a perfectly rational worship, as they showed the
people that the wages of sin is death ; but when men
sunk into idolatry, and lost all hopes of a resurrection
trom the dead, the slaughtering of animals to appease
their deities was a practice grossly superstitious. It
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
rested in itself without pointing to any farther end, Sdciffiee.
and the grovelling worshippers believed that by their —' ■*
sacrifices they purchased the favour cf their deities.
When once this notion was entertained, human sacri¬
fices were soon introduced ; for it naturally occurred
to those who offered them, that what they most valued
themselves, would be most acceptable to their offended
gods, (see the next article.) By the Jewish law, these
abominable offerings were strictly forbidden, and the
whole ritual of sacrifice restored to its original purity,
though not simplicity.
All Christian churches, the Socinian, if it can b£
called a church, not excepted, have till very lately
agreed in believing that the Jewish sacrifices served,
amongst other uses, for types of the death of Christ
and the Christian worship, (see Type.) In this be¬
lief all sober Christians agree still, whilst many are of
opinion that they were likewise foederal rites, as they
certainly were considered by the ancient Romans. * * Lie.
Of the various kinds of Jewish sacrifices, and the^' x^‘
subordinate ends for which they w'ere offered, a full^1*
account is given in the books of Moses. When an
Israelite offered a loaf or a cake, the priest broke it
in two parts; and setting aside that half which he re¬
served for himself, broke the other into crumbs, pour¬
ed oil, wine, incense, and salt upon it, and spread the
whole upon the fire of the altar. If these offerings
were accompanied with the sacrifice of an animal, they
were thrown upon the victim to be consumed along
with it. If the offerings were of the ears of new corn,
they were parched at the fire, rubbed in the hand,
and then offered to the priest in a vessel, over which
he poured oil, incense, wine, and salt, and then burnt
it upon the altar, having first taken as much of it as
of right belonged to himself. ,
The principal sacrifices among the Hebrews consist*
ed of bullocks, sheep, and goats; but doves and turtles
were accepted from those who were not able to bring
the other: these beasts were to be perfect, and without
blemish. The rites of sacrificing were various; all of
which are minutely described in the books of Moses.
The manner of sacrificing among the Greeks and
Homans was as follows. In the choice of the victim,
they took care that it was without blemish or imper¬
fection ; its tail was not to be too Small at the end;
the tongae not black, nor the ears cleft; and that the
bull was one that had never been yoked. The victim
being pitched upon, they gilt his forehead and horns,
especially if a bull, heifer, or cow. The head they
also adorned with a garland of flowers, a woollen in-
fula or holy fillet, whence hung two rows of chaplets
with twisted ribands ,* and on the middle of the body
a kind of stole, pretty large, hung down on each side:
the lesser victims were only adorned with garlands
and bundles of flowers, together with white tufts or
wreaths.
The victims thus prepared were brought before the
altar ; the lesser being driven to the place, and the
greater led by an halter ; when, if they made any
struggle, or refused to go, the resistance was taken for
an ill omen, and the sacrifice frequently set aside. The
victim thus brought was carefully examined, to see that
there was no defect in it; then the priest, clad in his
sacerdotal habit, and accompanied with the sacrificers
t 3 K and
SAC [ 442 J . SAC
Sacvifice. and other attendants, and being washed and purified
■■■ ' according to the ceremonies prescribed, turned to tlie
right hand, and went round the altar, sprinkling it with
meal and holy water, and also besprinkling those who
were present. Then the crier proclaimed with a loud
voice, Who is here? To which the people replied,
Many and good. The priest then having exhorted the
people to join with him by saying, Let us pray, con¬
fessed his own unworthiness, acknowledging that he had
been guilty of divers sins; for which he begged pardon
of the gods, hoping that they would be pleased to grant
his requests, accept the oblations offered them, and send
them all health and happiness ; and to this general form
added petitions for such particular favours as were then
desired. Prayers being ended, the priest took a cup of
wine; and having tasted it himself, caused his assistants
to do the like ; and then poured forth the remainder be¬
tween the horns of the victim. Then the priest or the
crier, or sometimes the most honourable person in the
company, killed the beast, by knocking it down or cut¬
ting its throat. If the sacrifice was in honour of the ce¬
lestial gods, the throat was turned up towards heaven,
but if they sacrificed to the heroes or infernal gods, the
victim was killed with its throat towards the ground.
If by accident the beast escaped the stroke, leaped
after it, or expired with pain and difficulty, it was
thought to be unacceptable to the gods. The beast be¬
ing killed, the priest inspected its entrails, and made
predictions from them. They then poured wine, toge¬
ther with frankincense, into the fire, to increase the
flame, and then laid the sacrifice on the altar; which in
the primitive times was burnt whole to the gods, and
thence called an holocaust; but in after-times, only part
of the victim was consumed in the fire, and the remain¬
der reserved for the sacrificers ; the thighs, and some¬
times the entrails, being burnt to their honour, the
company feasted upon the rest. During the sacri¬
fice, the priest, and the person who gave the sacri¬
fice, jointly prayed, laying their hand upon the al¬
tar. Sometimes they played upon musical instru¬
ments in the time of the sacrifice, and on some occa¬
sions they danced round the altar, singing sacred
hymns in honour of the god.
Human Sacrifices, an abominable practice, about
the origin of which different opinions have been form¬
ed—The true account seems to be that which we have
given in the preceding article. When men had gone
so far as to indulge the fancy of bribing their gods by
sacrifice, it was natural for them to think of enhancing
the value of so cheap an atonement by the cost and rarity
of the offering; and, oppressed with their malady, they
never rested till they had got that which they conceiv¬
ed to be the most precious of all, a human sacrifice.
*-ApuJ Eu-“ It was customary (says Sanchoniathon), * in ancient
^•'van^’' hi great and public calamities, before things be-
lik 4.°' came incurable, for princes and magistrates to offer up
in sacrifice to the avenging daemons the dearest of their
offspring. ” Sanchoniathon wrote of Phoenicia, hut the
practice prevailed in every nation under heaven of which
we have received any ancient account. The Egyptians
had it in the early part of their monarchy. The Cre¬
tans likewise had it, and retained it for a long time—
The nations of Arabia did the same. The people of
Dumah, in particular, sacrificed every year a child, and
buried it underneath an altar, which they made use of
instead of an idol; for they did not admit of images. Sacrifice.
The Persians buried people alive. Amestris, the wife'—-v—1
of Xerxes, entombed 12 persons quick under ground
for the good of her soul, it would be endless to enu¬
merate every city, or every province, where these dire
practices obtained. The Cyprians, the Rhodians, the
Phoceans, the lonians, those of Chios, Lesbos, Te-
nedos, all had human sacrifices. The natives of the
Tauric Chersonesus, offered up to Diana every stranger
whom chance threw upon their coast. Hence arose
that just expostulation in Euripides upon the inconsist¬
ency of the proceeding ; wherein much good reasoning,
is implied. Iphigenia wonders, as the goddess delight¬
ed in the blood of men, that every villain and murderer
should be privileged to escape, nay, be driven from the
threshold of the temple ; whereas, if an honest and vir¬
tuous man chanced to stray thither, he only was seized
upon, and put to death. The Pelasgi, in a time of
scarcity, vowed tire tenth of all that should be born to
them for a sacrifice, in order to procure plenty. Aris-
tomenes the Messenian slew 300 noble Lacedaemonians,
among whom was Theopompus the king of Sparta, at
the altar of Jupiter at Ithome. Without doubt the
Lacedaemonians did not fail to make ample returns ;
for they w’ere a severe and revengeful people, and of¬
fered the like victims to Mars. Their festival of the
Diamastigosis is well known ; when the Spartan boys
were whipped in the sight of their parents with such
severity before the altar of Diana Orthia, that they
often expired under the torture. Phylarchus affirms,
as he is quoted by Porphyry, that of old every Gre¬
cian state made it a rule, before they marched towards
an enemy, to solicit a blessing on their undertakings
by human victims.
The Homans were accustomed to the like sacrifices.
They both devoted themselves to the infernal gods, and
constrained others to submit to the same horrid doom.
Hence wTe read in Titus Livius, that, in the consulate
of /Emiiius Paulus and Terentius Varro, two Gauls,
a man and a woman, and two in like manner of Greece,
were buried alive at Rome in the Ox-market, where
was a place under ground walled round, to receive
them ; which had before been made use of for such
cruel purposes. He says it was a sacrifice not properly
Roman, that is, not originally of Roman institution ;
yet it was frequently practised there, and that too by
public authority. Plutarch makes mention of a like
instance a few years before, in. the consulship of Fla-
minius and Furjus. There is reason to think, that all
the principal captives who graced the triumphs of the
Romans, wrere at the close of that cruel pageantry put
to.death at the altar.of Jupiter Capitolinas. Caius Ma¬
rius offered up his own daughter for a victim to the
Dii Averrunci, to procure success in a battle against
the Cimbri; as we are informed by Dorotheus, quoted
by Clemens. It is likewise attested by Plutarch, who
says that her name was Calpurnia. Marius was a man
of a sour and bloody disposition; and had probably
heard of such sacrifices being offered in the enemy’s
camp, among whom they were very common, or he
might have belreld them exhibited at a distance; and
therefore murdered what was nearest, and should have
been dearest to him, to counteract their fearful spells,
and outdo them in their wicked machinery. Cicero
making mention of this custom being common in Gaul,
adds*,
SAC [ 443 ] SAC
Sacrifice, adds, that it prevailed among that people even at the
time he was speaking; from whence we may be led to
infer, that it was then discontinued among the Ro¬
mans. And we are told by Pliny, that it had then,
and not very long, been discouraged. For there was
a law enacted, when Lentulus and Crassus were con¬
suls, so late as the 657th year of Rome, that there
should be no more human sacrifices : for till that time
those horrid rites had been celebrated in broad day
without any mask or controul; which, bad we not the
best evidence for the fact, would appear scarcely cre¬
dible. And however they may have been discontinued
for a time, we find that they were again renewed;
though they became not so public, nor so general. For
not very long after this, it is reported of Augustus Cae¬
sar, when Perusia surrendered in the time of the second
triumvirate, that besides multitudes executed in a mili¬
tary manner, he offered up, upon the ides of March,
800 chosen persons, both of the equestrian and sena¬
torial order, at an altar dedicated to the manes of his
uncle Julius. Even at Rome itself this custom was
revived : and Porphyry assures us, that in his time a
man was every year sacrificed at the shrine of Jupiter
Latialis. Heliogabalus offered the like victims to the
Syrian deity which he introduced among the Romans.
The same is said of Aurelian.
The Gauls and the Germans were so devoted to this
shocking custom, that no business of any moment was
transacted among them without being prefaced with
the blood of men. They were offered up to various
gods ; but particularly to Hesus, Taranis, and Thau-
tates. These deities are mentioned by Lucan, where
he enumerates the various nations who followed the
fortunes of Caesar.
The altars of these gods were far removed from the
common resort of men; being generally situated in
the depth of woods, that the gloom might add to the
horror of the operation, and give a reverence to the
place and proceeding. The persons devoted were led
thither by the Druids, who presided at the solemnity,
and performed the cruel offices of the sacrifice. Ta¬
citus takes notice of the cruelty of the Hermunduri, in
a war with the Catti, wherein they had greatly the ad¬
vantage ; at the close of which they made one gene¬
ral sacrifice of all that was taken in battle, lire poor
remains of the legion under Varus suffered in some
degree the same fate. There were many places destin¬
ed for this purpose all over Gaul and Germany; but
especially in the mighty woods of Arduenna, and the
great Hercynian forest; a wild that extended above
80 days journey in length. The places set apart for
this solemnity were held in the utmost reverence, and
only approached at particular seasons. Lucan men¬
tions a grove of this sort near Massilia, which even the
Roman soldiers were afraid to violate, though com¬
manded by Caesar. It was one of those set apart for
the sacrifices of the country.
Claudian compliments Stilicho, that, among other
advantages accruing to the Roman armies through his
conduct, they could now venture into the awful forest
el Hercynia, and follow the chase in those so much
dreaded woods, and otherwise make use of them.
These practices prevailed among all the people of the
north, of whatever denomination. The Massagetae, the
•Scythians, the Getes, the Sarmatians, all the various na-
1
tions upon the Baltic, particularly the Suevi and Scan- Sacrifice.
dinavians, held it as a fixed principle, that their happi-1 
ness and security could not be obtained but at the ex¬
pense ot the lives of others. Their chief gods were
Fhor and Woden, whom they thought they could never
sufficiently glut with blood. They had many very ce¬
lebrated places of Worship ; especially in the island Ru-
gen, near the mouth of the Oder ; and in Zeeland t
some, too, very famous among the Semnones and Na-
harvalli. But the most reverenced of all, and the most
frequented, was at Upsal; where there was every year
a grand celebrity, which continued for nine days. Du¬
ring this term they sacrificed animals of all sorts : but
the most acceptable victims, and the most numerous,
were men. Ot these sacrifices none were esteemed so
auspicious and salutary as a sacrifice of the prince of the .
country. When the lot fell for the king to die, it was
received with universal acclamations and every expres¬
sion of joy; as it once happened in the time of a fa¬
mine, when they cast lots, and it fell to King Domal-
der to be the people’s victim : and he was accordingly
put to death. Olaus Tretelger, another prince, was
burnt alive to Woden. They did not spare their own
children. Harald the son of Gunild, the first of that
name, slew two of his children to obtain a storm of
wind. “ He did not let (says Verstegan) to sacrifice
two of his sons unto his idols, to the end he might ob¬
tain of them such a tempest at sea, as should break and
disperse the shipping of Harald king of Denmark. ”
Saxo-Grammaticus mentions a like fact. He calls the
king Haquin ; and speaks of the persons put to death as
two very hopeful young princes. Another king slew
nine sons to prolong his own life ; in hopes, perhaps,
that what they were abridged of would in great measure
be added to himself. Such instances, however, occur
not often: but the common victims were without end.
Adam Bremensis, speaking of the awful grove at Upsal,
where these horrid rites were celebrated, says, that
there was not a single tree but what was reverenced,
as if it were gifted with some portion of divinity : and
all this because they were stained with gore, and foul
with human putrefaction. The same is observed by
Scheifter in his account of this place.
The manner in which the victims were slaughtered,
was diverse in different places. Some of the Gaulish na¬
tions chined them with a stroke of an axe. The Celtte
placed the man who was to be offered for a sacrifice up¬
on a block, or an altar, with his breast upwards, and
with a sword struck him forcibly across the sternum;
then tumbling him to the ground, from his agonies and
convulsions, as well as from the effusion of blood, they
formed a judgment of future events. The Cimbri rip¬
ped open the bowels ; and from them they pretended to
divine. In Norway they beat men’s brains out with an
ox-yoke. The same operation was performed in Ice¬
land, by dashing them against an altar of stone. In
many places they transfixed them with arrows. After
they were dead, they suspended them upon trees, and
left them to putrefy. One of the writers above quot- .
ed mentions, that in his time 70 carcases of this sort’
were found in a wood of the Suevi. Dithmar of Mers-
burgh, an author of nearly the same age, speaks of a
place called Ledur in Zeeland, where there were every
year 99 persons sacrificed to the god Swantowite. Dur¬
ing these bloody festivals a general joy prevailed, and
3 K 2 banquets
SAC f 444 ] SAC
Sacrifice, banquets were most royally served. They fed, carous-
—“V'"-' ed, and gave a loose to indulgence, which at other
times was not permitted. They imagined that there
was something mysterious in the number nine: for
■which reason these feasts were in some places celebrat¬
ed every ninth year, in others every ninth month; and
continued for nine days. When all was ended, they
washed the image of the deity in a pool; and then dis¬
missed the assembly. Their servants were numerous,
who attended during the term of their feasting, and par¬
took of the banquet. At the close of all, they were
smothered in the same pool, or otherwise made away
with. On which Tacitus remarks, how great an awe
this circumstance must necessarily infuse into those
who were not admitted to these mysteries.
These accounts are handed down from a variety of
authors in different ages ; many of whom were natives
of the countries which they describe, and to which
they seem strongly attached. They would not there¬
fore have brought so foul an imputation on the part of
the world in favour of which they were each writing,
nor could there be that concurrence of testimony, were
not the history in general true.
The like custom prevailed to a great degree at Mexi¬
co, and even under the mild government of the Peru¬
vians ; and in most parts of America. In Africa it is
still kept up ; where, in the inland parts, they sacrifice
some of the captives taken in war to their fetiches, in
order to secure their favour. Snelgrave was in the
king of Dahoome’s camp, after his inroad into the
countries of Ardra and Whidaw; and says, that he was
a witness to the cruelty of this prince, whom he saw
sacrifice multitudes to the deity of his nation.
The same abominable worship is likewise practised
occasionally in the islands visited by Captain Cook,
and other circumnavigators, in the South sea. It seems
indeed to have prevailed in every country at one pe¬
riod of the progress of civilization, and undoubtedly
had the origin which we have assigned to it.
The sacrifices of which we have been treating* if we
except some few instances, consisted of persons doomed
by the chance of war, or assigned by lot, to be offered.
But among the nations of Canaan, the victims were pe¬
culiarly chosen. Their own children, and whatever was
nearest and dearest to them, were deemed the most wor¬
thy offering to their god. The Carthaginians, who
were a colony from Tyre, carried with them the reli¬
gion of their mother-country, and instituted the same
worship in the parts where they settled. It consisted in
the adoration of several deities, but particularly of
Kronus ; to whom they offered human sacrifices, and
especially the blood of children. If the parents were
not at hand to make an immediate offer, the magistrates
did not fail to make choice of what was most fair and
promising, that the god might not be defrauded of his
dues. Upon a check being received in Sicily, and
some other alarming circumstances happening, Hamil-
car without any hesitation laid hold of a boy, and of¬
fered him on the spot to Kronus; and at the same time
drowned a number of priests, to appease the deity of
the sea. The Carthaginians another time, upon a great
defeat of their army by Agathocles, imputed their mis¬
carriages to the anger of this god, whose services had
been neglected. Touched with this, and seeing the
enemy at 'heir gates, they seized at once 300 children
of the prime nobility, and offered them in public for a Sacrifice,
sacrifice. Three hundred more, being persons who^-—v^—
were somehow obnoxious, yielded themselves volun¬
tarily, and were put to death with the others. The
neglect of which they accused themselves, consisted in
sacrificing children purchased of parents among the
poorer sort, who reared them for that purpose, and not
selecting the most promising, and the most honourable,
as had been the custom of old. In short, there were
particular children brought up for the altar, as sheep
are fattened for the shambles; and they were bought
and butchered in the same manner. But this indiscri¬
minate way of proceeding was thought to have given
offence. It is remarkable, that the Egyptians looked
out for the most specious and handsome person to be
sacrificed. The Albanians pitched upon the best man
of the community, and made him pay for the wicked¬
ness of the rest. The Carthaginians chose what they
thought the most excellent, and at the same time the
most dear to them ; which made the lot fall heavy upon
their children. This is taken notice of by Siiius Ita-
licus in his fourth book.
Kronus, to whom these sacrifices were exhibited, was
an oriental deity, the god of light and fire; and there¬
fore always worshipped with some reference to that
element. See Phcenicia.
The Greeks, we find, called the deity to whom these
offerings were made Agraulos; and feigned that she
was a woman, and the daughter of Cecrops. But Iioav
came Cecrops to have any connexion with Cyprus?
Agraulos is a corruption and transposition of the origi¬
nal name, which should have been rendered Uk El Aur,
or Uk El Aurus; but has, like many other oriental titles
and names, being strangely sophisticated, and is here
changed to Agraulos. It was in reality the god of
light, who was always worshipped with fire. This deity
was the Moloch of the Tyrians and Canaanites, and
the Melech of the east; that is, the great and princi¬
pal god, the god of light, of whom fire was esteemed
a symbol; and at whose shrine, instead of viler vic¬
tims, they offered the blood of men.
Such was the Kronus of the Greeks, and the Moloch
of the Phoenicians: and nothing can appear more shock¬
ing than the sacrifices of the Tyrians and Carthaginians,
which they performed to this idol. In all emergencies
of state, and times of general calamity, they devoted
what was most necessary and valuable to them for an
offering to the gods, and particularly to Moloch. But
besides these undetermined times of bloodshed, they had
particular and prescribed seasons every year, when chil¬
dren were chosen out of the most noble and reputable
families, as before mentioned. If a person had an on¬
ly child, it was the more liable to be put to death, as
being esteemed more acceptable to the deity, and more
efficacious for the general good. Those who were sa¬
crificed to Kronus were thrown into the arms of a mol¬
ten idol, which stood in the midst of a large fire, and
was red with heat. The arms of it were stretched out,
with the hands turned upwards, as it were to receive
them; yet sloping downwards, so that they dropt from
thence into a glowing furnace below. To other gods,
they were otherwise slaughtered, and, as it is implied,
by tire very hands of their parents. What can be more
horrid to the imagination, than to suppose a father
leading the dearest of all his sons to such an infernal
shrine
SAC [ 445 I S A T5
$ ifice. Shrine? or a mother the most engaging and affectionate
u of her daughters, just rising to maturity, to be slaugh¬
tered at the altarof AshtarothorBaai? Justin describes
this unnatural custom very pathetically : Quippe homi¬
nes, ut victimas, immolabant ; et impuberes {quce cetas
hostium misericordiam provocat) aris admovebant; pacem
sanguine eorum exposcentes, pro quorum vita Dii rogari
tnaxime solent. Such was their blind zeal, that this was
continually practised ; and so much of natural affection
still left unextinguished, as to render the scene ten times
more shocking, from the tenderness which they seemed
to express. They embraced their children with great
fondness, and encouraged them in the gentlest terms,
that they might not be appalled at the sight of the hell¬
ish process ; begging of them to submit with cheerful¬
ness to this fearful operation. If there was any appear¬
ance of a tear rising, or a cry unawares escaping, the
mother smothered it with her kisses, that there might
not be any show of backwardness or constraint, but the
whole be a free-will offering. These cruel endearments
over, they stabbed them to the heart, or otherwise open¬
ed the sluices of life ; and with the blood warm, as it
ran, besmeared the altar and the grim visage of the
idol. These were the customs which the Israelites
learned of the people of Canaan, and for which they
are upbraided by the Psalmist: “ They did not destroy
the nations, concerning whom the Lord commanded
them; but were mingled among the heathen, and learn¬
ed their works : yea, they sacrificed their sons and their
daughters unto devils, and shed innocent blood, even
the blood of their sons and of their daughters, whom
they sacrificed unto the idols of Canaan ; and the land
was polluted with blood. Thus were they defiled with
their own wrorks, and went a-wrhoring with their own
inventions. ”
These cruel rites, practised in so many nations, made
Plutarch debate with himself, “ Whether it would not
have been better for the Galatae, or for the Scythians,
to have had no tradition or conception of any superior
being, than to have formed to themselves notions of
gods who delighted in the blood of men; of gods, w ho
esteemed human victims the most acceptable and per¬
fect sacrifice ? Would it not (says he) have been more
eligible for the Carthaginians to have had the atheist
Critias, or Diagoras, their lawgiver, at the commence¬
ment of their polity, and to have been taught, that
there was neither god nor demon, than to have sacri¬
ficed, in the manner they were wont, to the god which
they adored ? Wherein they acted, not as the person
did whom Empedocles describes in some poetry, where
he exposes this unnatural custom. The sire there with
many idle vows offers up unwittingly his son for a sa¬
crifice ; but the youth was so changed in feature and
figure, that his father did not know him. These peo¬
ple used knowingly and wilfully, to go through this
bloody work, and slaughter their own offspring. Even
they who w^ere childless wmuld not be exempted from
this cursed tribute ; but purchased children, at a price,
of the poorer sort, and put them to death with as little
remorse as one would kill a lamb or a chicken. The
mother, who sacrificed her child, stood by, without any
seeming sense of what she was losing, and without utter¬
ing a groan. If a sigh did by chance escape, she lost all
the honour which she proposed to herself in the offering,
and the child was notwithstanding slain. All the time
of this ceremony, while the children >. re '
there wras a noise of clarions and tabors s.
fore the idol, that the cries and shrieks of ii.
might not be heard. “ Tell me now (saj7s Pi. a)
if the monsters of old, the Typhons and the g us,
wrere to expel the gods, and to rule the world in their
stead ; could they require a service more horrid than
these infernal rites and sacrifices ? ”
SACRILEGE, Sacrilegium, the crime of pro¬
faning sacred things, or things devoted to God ; or of
alienating to laymen, or common purposes, what was
given to religious persons and pious uses.
SACRISTAN, a church-officer, otherwise called-
Sexton.
SACRISTY, in church-history, an apartment in a
church where the sacred utensils were kept, being the
same with our Vestry.
SADDLE, is a seat upon a horse’s back, contriv¬
ed for the conveniency of the rider.
A hunting-saddle is composed of two bows, two
bands, fore-bolsters, pannels, and saddle-straps ; and
the great saddle has, besides these parts, corks, hind-
bolsters, and a troussequin.
The pommel is common to both.
SADDUCEES, were a famous sect among the an¬
cient Jews, and consisted of persons of great quality
and opulence. Respecting their origin there are va¬
rious accounts and various opinions. Epiphanius, and
after him many other writers, contend, that they took
their rise from Dositheus a sectary of Samaria, and
their name from the Hebrew word 'pi'X, just or justice,
from the great justice and equity which they showed
in all their actions; a derivation which neither suits
the word Sadducee nor the general character of the
sect. They are thought by some too to have been
Samaritans : but this is by no means probable, as they
always attended the worship and sacrifices at Jerusa¬
lem, and never at Gerizzim.
In the Jewish Talmud we are told that the Saddueees
derived their name from Sadoc, and that the sect arose
about 260 years before Christ, in the time of Antigonus
of Socho, president of the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem, and
teacherof the law in the principal divinity school of that
city. He had often in his lectures, it seems, taught
his scholars, that they ought not to serve God as slaves
do their masters, from the hopes of a reward, but mere¬
ly out of filial love for his own sake ; from which Sadoc
and Baithus inferred that there were no rewards at all
after this life. They therefore separated from their
master, and taught that there wras no resurrection nor
future state. This new doctrine quickly spread, and
gave rise to the sect of Sadducees, which in many re¬
spects resembled the Epicureans.
Dr Prideaux thinks that the Sadducees were at
first no more than what the Caraites are now ; that is,
they would not receive the traditions of the elders,
but stuck to the written word only : and the Phari¬
sees being great promoters of those traditions, hence
these two sects became directly opposite to each other.
See Prideaux’s Conti, part. 2. book 2. and 3.; and
see also Pharisees and Caraites.
Afterwards the Sadducees imbibed other doctrines,
which rendered them a sect truly impious : for they
denied the resurrection of the dead, and the existence
of angels, and of the spirits or souls of men departed
(Matt.
SAD
rSaddueces. (Matt. xxii. 23. Acts xxiii. 8.). They held, that there
—V' is no spiritual being but God only; that as to man, this
world is his all. They did not deny but that we had
reasonable souls: but they maintained this soul was
mortal; and, by a necessary consequence, they denied
the rewards and punishments of another life. They
pretended also, that what is said of the existence of
angels, and of a future resurrection, are nothing but
illusions. St Epiphanius, and after him St Austin,
liave advanced, that the Sadducees denied the Holy
Ghost. But neither Josephus nor the evangelists ac¬
cuse them of any error like this. It has been also im¬
puted to them, that they thought God corporeal, and
that they received none of the prophecies.
It is pretty difficult to apprehend how they could
cleny the being of angels, and yet receive the books of
Moses, where such frequent mention is made of angels
and of their appearances. Grotius and M. Le Clerc
observe, that it is very likely they looked upon angels,
not as particular beings, subsisting of themselves, but
as powers, emanations, or qualities, inseparable from
the Deity, as the sunbeams are inseparable from the
sun. Or perhaps they held angels not to be spiritual
but mortal; just as they thought that substance to be
which animates us and thinks in us. The ancients do
not tell us how they solved this difficulty, that might
be urged against them from so many passages of the
Pentateuch, where mention is made of angels.
As the Sadducees acknowledged neither punish¬
ments nor recompenses in another life, so they were
inexorable in their chastising of the wicked. They
observed the law themselves, and caused it to be ob¬
served by others, with the utmost rigour. They ad¬
mitted of none of the traditions, explications, or modi¬
fications, of the Pharisees; they kept only to the text
of the law; and maintained, that only what was writ¬
ten was to be observed.
The Sadducees are accused of rejecting all the books
of Scripture except those of Moses; and to support this
opinion, it is observed, that our Saviour makes use of no
Scripture against them, but passages taken out of the
Pentateuch. But Scaliger produces good proofs to vin¬
dicate them from this reproach. He observes, that they
did not appear in Israel till after the number of the holy
books was fixed; and that if they had been to choose
out of the canonical Scriptures, the Pentateuch was
less favourable to them than any other book, since it
often makes mention of angels and their apparition.
Besides, the Sadducees were present in the temple and
at other religious assemblies, where the books of the
prophets were read indifferently, as well as those of
Moses. They were in the chief employments of the
nation, many of them wrere even priests. Would the
Jews have suffered in these employments persons that
rejected the greatest part of their Scriptures ? Menasse
ben-Israel says expressly, that indeed they did not re¬
ject the prophets, but that they explained them in a
sense very different from that of the other Jews.
Josephus assures us, that they denied destiny or fate;
alleging that these were only sounds void of sense, and
that all the good or evil that happens to us is in conse¬
quence of the good or evil side w7e have taken, by the
free choice of our will. They said, also, that God was
far removed from doing or knowing evil, and that man
jyas the absolute master of his own actions. This was
SAD
roundly to deny a providence; and upon this footing I Saddueecs
know not, says F. Calmet, what could be the religioft
of the Sadducees, or what influence they could ascribe
to God in things here below. However, it is certain
they were not only tolerated among the Jews, but that
they were admitted to the high-priesthood itself. John
Hircanus, high-priest of that nation, separated himself
in a signal manner from the sect of the Pharisees, and
went over to that of Sadoc. It is said, also, he gave
strict command to all the Jew s, on pain of death, to re¬
ceive the maxims of this sect. Aristobulus and Alex¬
ander Jannoeus, son of Hircanus, continued to favour
the Sadducees; and Maimonides assures us, that under
the reign of Alexander Jannaeus, they had in possession
all the offices of the Sanhedrim, and that there only
remained of the party of the Pharisees, Simon the son of
Secra. Caiaphas, who condemned Jesus Christ to death,
was a Sadducee (Acts v. 17. iv. 1.); as also Ananus
the younger, who put to death St James the brother of
our Lord. At this daj^, the Jews hold as heretics that
small number of Sadducees that are to be found among
them. See upon this matter Serrar. Trihceres. Menasse
ben-Israel de Resurredione mortuorum ; Basnage’s His¬
tory of the Jews, Sec.; and Calmet's Dissertation upon the
Sects of the Jews before the Commentary of St Mark.
The sect of the Sadducees w’as much reduced by the
destruction of Jerusalem, and by the dispersion of the
Jews; but it revived afterwards. At the beginning of
the third century it was so formidable in Egypt, that
Ammonim, Origen’s master, when he saw them propa¬
gate their opinions in that country, thought himself
obliged to write against them, or rather against the
Jews, who tolerated the Sadducees, though they de¬
nied the fundamental points of their religion. The em¬
peror Justinian mentions the Sadducees in one of his
novels, banishes them out of all places of his domini¬
ons, and condemns them to the severest punishments,
as people that maintained atheistical and impious te¬
nets, denying the resurrection and the last judgment.
Annus, or Ananus, a disciple of Juda, son of Nach¬
man, a famous rabbin of the 8th century, declared
himself, as it is said, in favour of the Sadducees, and
strenuously protected them against their adversaries.
They had also a celebrated defender in the Pith cen¬
tury, in the person of Alpharag,a Spanish rabbin. This
doctor wrote against the Pharisees, the declared ene¬
mies of the Sadducees; and maintained by his public
writings, that the purity of Judaism was only to be found
among the Sadducees; that the traditions avowed by
the Pharisees were useless; and that the ceremonies,
which they had multiplied without end, were an unsup-
portable yoke. The rabbi Abraham ben David Ital-
leri replied to Alpharag, and supported the sect of the
Pharisees by two great arguments, that of their univer¬
sality and that of their antiquity. Pie proved their an¬
tiquity by a continued succession from Adam down to
the year 1167; and their universality, because the Pha¬
risees are spread all the world over, and are found in
all the synagogues. There are still Sadducees in Af¬
rica and in several other places. They deny the im¬
mortality of the soul, and the resurrection of the body;
but they are rarely found, at least there are but few
who declare themselves for these opinions.
SADLER, John, was descended from an ancient
family in Shropshire; born in 1615; and educated at
Cambridge,
[ 446 ]
S A F [ 447 ] S A F
: kr Cambridge, where he became eminent for his great
I knowledge in the oriental languages. He removed to
>n' .Xiincoln’s-Inn, where he made no small progress in the
study of the law; and in 1644 was admitted one of the
masters in chancery, as also one of the two masters of
requests. In 1649 he was chosen town-clerk of Lon¬
don, and the same year published his Rights of the King¬
dom. He was greatly esteemed by Oliver Cromwell,
by whose special warrant he was continued a master in
chancery, when their number was reduced to six. By
his interest it was that the Jews obtained the privilege
of building for themselves a synagogue in London. In
1658 he was made member of parliament for Yar¬
mouth ; and next year was appointed first commis¬
sioner under the great seal with Mr Taylor, Mr White-
locke, and others, for the probate of wills. In 1660
he published his Olbia. Soon after the restoration, he
lost all his employments. In the fire of London in
1666, he was a great sufferer; which obliged him to
retire to his seat of Warmwell in Dorsetshire, where he
lived in a private manner till 1674, when he died.
SADOC, a famous Jewish rabbi, and founder of the
sect of the Sadducees.
SADOLET, James, a polite and learned cardinal
of the Romish church, born at Modena in 1477. Leo X.
made him and Peter Bembus his secretaries, an office
for which they were both well qualified; and Sadolet
was soon after made bishop of Carpenlras, near Avig¬
non : he was made a cardinal in 1536 by Paul III.,
and employed in several negociations and embassies.
He died in 1547, not without the suspicion of poison,
for corresponding too familiarly with the Protestants,
and for testifying too much regard for some of their
doctors. His works, which are all in Latin, were col¬
lected in 1607 at Mentz, in one volume 8vo. All his
contemporaries spoke of him in the highest terms.
SAFE-guard, a protection formerly granted to a
stranger who feared violence from some of the king’s
subjects for seeking his right by course of law%
SafE-Conduct is a security given by a prince under
the great seal, to a stranger for his snfe-coming into
and passing out of the realm; the form whereof is in
Reg. Orig. 25. There are letters of safe-conduct
which must be enrolled in Chancery; and the persons
to whom granted must have them ready to show; and
touching w-hich there are several statutes. See Pre¬
rogative.
SAFFRON, in the Materia Medica, is formed of the
stigmata of the crocus officinalis, dried on a kiln, and
pressed together into cakes. See Crocus, Botany
Index. There are two kinds of saffron, the English and
Spanish; of which the latter is by far the most esteem¬
ed. Saffron is principally cultivated in Cambridge¬
shire, in a circle of about ten miles diameter. The
greatest part of this tract is an open level country, with
few inclosures; and the custom there is, as in most
other places, to crop two years, and let the land be
fallow the third. Saffron is generally planted upon
fallow-ground, and, all other things being alike, they
prefer that which has borne barley the year before.
The saffron ground is seldom above three acres, or
less than one; and in choosing, the principal thing they
have regard to is, that they be well exposed, the soil not
poor, nor a very stiff clay, but a temperate dry mould,
such as commonly lies upon chalk, and is of an hazel
colour; though, if every thing else answers, the colour- Saffron,,
of the mould is pretty much neglected. l——
The ground being made choice of, about Lady-day
or the beginning of April, it must be carefully plough¬
ed, the furrows being drawn much closer together, and,
deeper if the soil will allow it, than is done for any kind
of corn ; and accordingly the charge is greater.
About five weeks after, during any time in the month
of May, they lay between 20 and 30 loads of dung up¬
on each acre, and having spread it with great care, they
plough it in as before. The shortest rotten dung is the
best: and the farmers, who have the conveniency of
making it, spare no pains to make it good, being sure
of a proportionable price for it. About midsummer
they plough a third time, and between every 16 feet
and a half they leave a broad furrow or trench, which
serves both as a boundary to the several parcels, and
for throwing the weeds into at the proper season. The
time of planting is commonly in the month of July.
The only instrument used at this time is a small narrow
spade, commonly called a spit-shovel. The method is
this: One man with his shovel raises about three or four
inches of earth, and throws it before him about six or
more inches. Two persons, generally women, follow
with roots, which they place in the farthest edge of the
trench made by the digger, at about three inches from
each other. As soon as the digger has gone once the
breadth of the ridge, he begins again at the other side;
and, digging as before, covers the roots last set, which
makes room for another row of roots at the same dis¬
tance from the first that they are from one another^
The only dexterity necessary in digging is, to leave
some part of the first stratum of earth untouched, to lie
under the roots ; and, in setting, to place the roots di¬
rectly upon their bottom. The quantity of roots plant¬
ed on an acre is generally about 16 quarters, or 12&
bushels. From the time of planting till the beginning
of September, or sometimes before, there is no more,
labour required; but at that time they begin to vege¬
tate, and are ready to show themselves above ground,
which may be known by digging up a few of the roots.
The ground is then to be pared with a sharp hoe, and
the weeds raked into the furrows, otherwise they would
hinder the growth of tire saffron. In some time after,
the flowers appear.
They are gathered before they are full blown, as well
as after, and the proper time for it is early in the morn¬
ing. The owners of the saffron-fields get together a*
sufficient number of hands, who pull off the whole
flowers, and throw them by handfuls into a basket,
and so continue till about 11 o’clock. Having then-
carried home the flowers, they immediately fall to pick¬
ing out the stigmata or chives, and together with them
a pretty large proportion of the stylus itself, or string tO“
which they are attached: the rest of the flower they
throw away as useless. Next morning they return to
the field, without regarding whether the weather be
wet or dry: and so on daily, even on Sundays, till the
whole crop is gathered.—The next labour is to dry the
chives on the kiln. The kiln is built upon a. thick
plank, that it may be moved from place to place. It
is supported by four short legs: the outside consists of
eight pieces of wood of three inches thick, in form of a
quadrangular frame, about 12 inches square at the bot¬
tom on the inside, and 22 on the upper part; which
last
B A F T 448 ] S A G
Xtiftror.. last is likewise the perpendicular lieight of it. On the
foreside i« left a hole of about eight inches square, and
four inches above the plank, through which the fire is
-^put iii; over all the rest laths are laid pretty thick,
close to one another, and nailed to the frame already
mentioned. They are then plastered over on both
sides, as are also the planks a* bottom, very thick, to
serve for a hearth. Over th*e mouth is laid a hair¬
cloth, fixed to the edges of the kiln, and likewise to
two rollers or moveable pieces of wood, which are turn¬
ed by wedges or screws, in order to stretch the cloth.
Instead of the hair-cloth, some people use a net-work
of iron-wire, by which the saffron is soon dried, and
with less fuel; but the difficulty of preserving it from
burning makes the hair-eloth preferred by the best
judges. The kiln is placed in a light part of the house;
and they begin with putting five or six sheets of white
paper on the hair-cloth, and upon these they lay out the
wet saffron two or three inches thick. It is then co¬
vered with some other sheets of paper, and over these
they lay a coarse blanket five or six times doubled, or,
instead of this, a canvas pillow filled with straw ; and
after the fire has been lighted for some time, the whole
is covered with a board having a considerable weight
upon it. At first they apply a pretty strong heat, to
make the chives sweat as they call it: and at this time
a great deal of care is necessary to prevent burning.
When it has been thus dried about an hour, they turn
the cakes of saffron upside down, putting on the cover¬
ings and weight as before. If no sinister accident
happens during these first two hours, the danger is
thought to be over ; and nothing morels requisite than
to keep up a very gentle fire for 24 hours, t urning the
cake every half hour. That fuel is best which yields
the least smoke ; and for this reason charcoal is pre¬
ferable to all others.
The quantity of saffron produced at a crop is uncer¬
tain. Sometimes five or six pounds of wet chives are
got from one rood, sometimes not above one or two;
and sometimes not so much as is sufficient to defray the
expense of gathering and drying. But it is always ob¬
served, that about five pounds of wet saffron go to make
one pound of dry for the first three wreeks of the crop,
and six pounds during the last week. When the heads
are planted very thick, two pounds of dry saffron may
at a medium be allowed to an acre for the first crop,
and 24 pounds for the two remaining ones, the third
being considerably larger than the second.
To obtain the second and third crops, the labour of
hoeing, gathering, picking, &c. already mentioned, must
be repeated; and about midsummer, after the third crop
is gathered, the roots must all be taken up and trans¬
planted. For taking up the roots, sometimes the plough
is made use of, and sometimes a forked hoe ; and then
the ground is harrowed once or twice over. During
all the time of ploughing, harrowing, &c. 15 or more
peopie will find work enough to follow and gather the
heads as they are turned up. The roots are next to
be carried to the house in sacks, where they are clean¬
ed and rased, "fin's labour consists in cleaning the roots
thoroughly from earth, decayed old pieces, invokscra,
or excrescences; after which they become fit to be
planted in new ground immediately, or they may be
kept for some time, without danger of spoiling. The
•qe.'-.tity of roots taken up in proportion to those plant¬
ed is uncertain ; but at a medium, 24 quarters of clean
3
roots, fit to be planted, may be had from each acre.— Saffron
Thei’e sometimes happens a remarkable change in the „ N
roots of saffron and some other plants. As soon as they ■ a°^_
begin to shoot upwards, there are commonly two or
three large tap-roots sent forth from the side of the old
one, which will run two or three inches deep into the
ground. At the place where these bulbs first come out
from, the old one will be formed sometimes, though
not always, and the tap-root then decays. The bulb
increases in bigness, and at last falls quite off; which
commonly happens in April. But many times these
tap-roots never produce any bulbs, and remain barren
for ever after. All such roots therefore should be
thrown away in the making a new plantation. This
degeneracy in the roots is a disease for which no cure
is as yet known.
When saffron is offered to sale, that kind ought to
be chosen which has the broadest blades; this being
the mark by which English saffron is distinguished from
the foreign. It ought to be of an orange or fiery-red
colour, and to yield a dark yellow tincture. It should
be chosen fresh, not above a year old, in close cakes,
neither dry nor yet very moist, tough and firm in tear¬
ing, of the same colour within as without, and of a
strong, acrid, diffusive smell.
This drug has been reckoned a very elegant and use¬
ful aromatic. Besides the virtues it has in common
with other substances of that class, it has been account¬
ed one of the highest cordials, and is said to exhilarate
the spirits to such a degree, as, when taken in large do¬
ses, to occasion immoderate mirth, involuntary laughter,
and the ill effects which follow from the abuse of spirit¬
uous liquors. This medicine is particularly serviceable
in hysteric depressions proceeding from a cold cause or
obstruction of the uterine secretions, where other aro¬
matics, even those of the more generous kind, have
little effect. Saffron imparts the whole of its virtue
and colour to rectified spirit, proof spirit, wine, vine¬
gar, and water. A tincture drawn with vinegar loses
greatly of its colour in keeping : the watery and vinous
tinctures are apt to grow sour, and then lose their co¬
lour also : that made in pure spirit keeps in perfection
for many years.
Meadow Saffron. See Colchicum, Botany In¬
dex.
SAGAN, in scripture history, the suffragan or de¬
puty of the Jewish high-priest. According to some
writers, he was only to officiate for him when he was
rendered incapable of attending the service through
sickness or legal uncleanness on the day of expiation;
or, according to others, he was to assist the high-priest
in the care of the affairs of the temple and the service
of the priests.
SAGAPENUM, in Pharmacy, &c. a gum-resin
which is made up in two forms ; the finer and purer is
in loose granules or single drops; the coarser kind is
in masses composed of these drops of various sizes,
cemented together by a matter of the same kind;
and is brought from Persia and the East Indies. See
Materia Meidtca Index.
SAGE. See Salvia, Botany Index.
Sage, Alain Rene, an ingenious French romance-
writer, was born at Buys in Brittany in the year 1667-
He had a fine flow of imagination, was a complete mas¬
ter of the French and Spanish languages, and wrote se¬
veral admired romances in imitation of the Spanish au¬
thors.
SAG [ 449 ]
thors. These were, The Bachelor of Salamanca, 2 vols
SAG
1 12mo ; New Adventures of Don Quixote, 2 vols 12mo ;
The Devil on Two Sticks, 2 vols 12mo ; and Gil Bias,
4 vols 12mo. He produced also some comedies, and
other humorous pieces. This ingenious author died
in the year 1747, in the vicinity of Paris, where he
supported himself by writing.
Sage, the Reverend John, so justly admired by all
who knew him for his classical learning and reasoning
powers, was born, in 1652, in the parish of Creich and
county of Fife, North Britain, where his ancestors had
lived for seven generations with great respect though
with little property. His father was a captain in Lord
Duffus’s regiment, and fought for his king and country
when Monk stormed Dundee on the 30th of August
1651.
The issue of the civil wars, and the loyalty of Cap¬
tain Sage, left him nothing to bestow upon his son but
a liberal education and his own principles of piety and
virtue. In those days the Latin language was taught
in the parochial schools of Scotland with great ability
and at a trifling expense ; and after young Sage had
acquired a competent knowledge of that language at
one of those useful seminaries, his father, without re¬
ceiving from an ungrateful court any recompense for
what he had lost in the cause of royalty, was still able
to send him to the university of St Andrew’s, where
having remained in college the usual number of terms
or sessions, and performed the exercises required by
the statutes, he was admitted to the degree of master
of arts, the highest honour which it appears he ever
received from any university.
During his residence in St Andrew’s he studied the
Greek and Roman authors w ith great diligence, and
was likewise instructed in logic, metaphysics, and such
other branches of philosophy as then obtained in the
schools, which, though we affect to smile at them in
this enlightened age, he always spoke of as highly use¬
ful to him who wTould understand the poets, historians,
arid orators of ancient Greece, and even the fathers of
the Christian church. In this opinion every man will
agree with him, who is at all acquainted with the an¬
cient metaphysics, and has read the writings of Cle¬
mens Alexandrinus, Origen, Tertullian, Chrysostome,
and other fathers of great name ; for each of those
writers adopted the principles of some one or other of
the philosophical sects, reasoned from their notions,
and often made use of their terms and phrases.
When Mr Sage had taken his master’s degree, the
narrowness of his fortune compelled him to accept of
the first literary employment which was offered to him ;
and that happened to be nothing better than the office
of schoolmaster in the parish of Bingry in Fifeshire,
whence he was soon removed to Tippermuir in the
county of Perth. In these humble stations, though he
wanted many of the necessaries and almost all the com¬
forts of life, he prosecuted his studies with great suc¬
cess; but in doing so, he unhappily imbibed the seeds of
several diseases which afflicted him through life, and,
notwithstanding the native vigour of his constitution,
impaired his health and shortened his days. From the
miserable drudgery of a parish-schoolmaster, he was
relieved by Mr Drummond of Cultmalundie, who in¬
vited him to superintend the education of his sons,
whom he accompanied first to the public school at
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
Perth, and afterwards to the university of St Andrew’s.
This was still an employment by no means adequate to ^
his merit, but it was not wholly without advantages.
At Perth, he gained the friendship and esteem of Dr
Rose, afterwards lord bishop of Edinburgh, and at St
Andrew’s of every man capable of properly estimating
genius and learning.
The education of his pupils was completed in 1684,
when he was left with no determinate object of pursuit.
In this moment of indecision, his friend Dr Rose, who
had been promoted from the parsonage of Perth to the
professorship of divinity in the university which he
was leaving, recommended him so effectually to his
uncle, then archbishop of Glasgow, that he was by that
prelate admitted into orders and presented to one of
the churches in the city. He was then about 34- years
of age ; had studied the Scriptures with great assidui¬
ty ; was no stranger to ecclesiastical history, or the apo¬
logies and other writings of the antient fathers was
thorough master of school-divinity; had examined with
great accuracy the modern controversies, especially
those between the Romish and Reformed churches,
and between the Calvinists and Remonstrants ; and it
was perhaps to his honour that he did not fully ap¬
prove of all the articles of faith subscribed by any one
of these contending sects of Christians.
A man so far advanced in life, and so thoroughly
accomplished as a scholar, would naturally be looked
up to by the greater part of the clergy as soon as
he became one of their body. This was in fact the
case: Mr Sage was, immediately on his admission into
orders, appointed clerk to the synod or presbytery of
Glasgow ; an office of great trust and respectability,
to which we know nothing similar in the church of
England.
During the establishment of episcopacy in Scotland,
from the restoration of Charles II. till the year 1690,
the authority of the bishops, though they possessed the
sole power of ordination, was very limited in the go¬
vernment of the church. They did every thing with
the consent of the presbyters over whom they presided.
Diocesan synods were held at stated times for purposes
of the s'ame kind with those which employ the meetings
of presbyteries at present (see Presbyterians); and
the only prerogative which the bishop seems to have
enjoyed was to be permanent president, with a nega¬
tive voice over the deliberations of the assembly. The
acts of each synod, and sometimes the charge deliver¬
ed by the bishop at the opening of it, were registered
in a book kept by the clerk, who was always one of
the most eminent of the diocesan clergy.
Mr Sage continued in this office, discharging in Glas¬
gow all the duties of a clergyman, in such a manner
as endeared him to his flock, and gained him the esteem
even of those who were dissenters from the establish¬
ment. Many of his brethren wei’e trimmers in eccle¬
siastical as well as in civil politics. They had been re¬
publicans and presbyterians in the days of the cove¬
nant ; and, with that ferocious zeal which too often cha¬
racterizes interested converts, had concurred in the se¬
verities which, during the reign of Charles II, w^ere ex¬
ercised against the party whom they had forsaken at
his restoration. When that party again raised its head
during the infatuated reign of James, and every thing
indicated an approaching change of the establishment,
f 3 L those
Sums
Sage.
SAG [ 450
those whose zeal for the church had so lately incited
them to persecute the dissenters, suddenly became all
gentleness and condescension, and advanced towards
the presbyterians as to their old friends.
The conduct of Mr Sage was the reverse of this.
He was an episcopalian and a royalist from conviction ;
and in all his discourses, public and private, he,laboured
to instil into the minds of others the principles which
to himself appeared to have their foundation in truth.
To persecution he was at all times an enemy, whilst
he never tamely betrayed through fear what he thought
it his duty to maintain. The consequence was, that
in the end of the year 1688 he was treated by the
rabble, which in the western counties of Scotland rose
against the established church, with greater lenity than
his more complying brethren. Whilst they, without
the smallest apprehension of their danger, were torn
from their families by a lawless force, and many of them
persecuted in the cruellest manner, lie was privately
warned to withdraw from Glasgow, and never more to
return to that city. So much was consistency of con¬
duct and a steady adherence to principle respected by
SAG
cess. At Bath and at London he remained a twelve¬
month, recognised by the great and caressed by the
learned. Yet though he was invited to stay, he returned
in 1710 to his native country, which he desired to see,
and where he wished to die. And though his body was
Sagittari
debilitated, he engaged, with undiminished vigour of
those who seemed to respect nothing else.
Mr Sage retired to the metropolis, and carried with
him the synodical book, which was afterwards demand¬
ed by the presbytery of Glasgow, but not recovered,
till about twenty years ago, that, on the death of a
nephew of Dr Rose the last established bishop of E-
dinburgh, it was found in his possession, and restored
to the presbytery to which it belonged. Mr Sage had
detained it and given it to his diocesan friend, from
the fond hope that episcopacy w'ould soon be re-esta¬
blished in Scotland ; and it was doubtless with a view
to contribute what he could to the realising of that
hope, that, immediately on his being obliged to leave
Glasgow, he commenced a keen polemical writer. At
Edinburgh he preached a while, till refusing to take
the oaths of allegiance w hen required by the govern¬
ment, he vras obliged to retire. In this extremity, he
found protection in the house of Sir William Bruce,
the sheriff of Kinross, who approved his principles and
admired his virtue. Returning to Edinburgh, in 1605,
he was observed, and obliged to abscond. Yet he re¬
turned in 1696, when his friend Sir William Bruce was
imprisoned as a suspected person. He wras soon forced
to seek for refuge in the hills of Angus, under the
name of Jackson.
After a while Mr Sage found a safe retreat with the
countess of Callendar, wTho employed him to instruct her
family as chaplain, and her sons as tutor. These occu¬
pations did not wholly engage his active mind for he
employed his pen in defending his order, or in exposing
his oppressors. When the countess of Callendar had no
longer sons to instruct, Sage accepted the imitation of
Sir John Steuart of Garntully, who wanted the help of
a chaplain, and the conversation of a scholar. With Sir
John he continued till the decency of his manners, and
the extensiveness of his learning, recommended him to
a higher station. And, on the 25th of January 1705,
he was consecrated a bishop by Paterson the archbishop
of Glasgow , Rose the bishop of Edinburgh, and Douglas
the bishop of Bumblain. But this promotion did not
prevent sickness from falling on him in November 1706.
After lingering for many months in Scotland, he trieel
the effect of the waters of Bath in 1709, without sue-*
mind, in the publication of the works of Drummond of
Hawthornden, to which the celebrated Ruddiman lent
his aid. Bishop Sage died at Edinburgh on the 7th of
June 1711, lamented by his friends for his virtues, and
feared by his adversaries for his talents.
His works are, 1st, Two Letters concerning the
Persecution of the Episcopal Clergy in Scotland, which
with other two by different authors were printed in one
volume at London in 1689. 2dly, An Account of the
late Establishment of Presbyterian Government by the
Parliament of Scotland, in 1690, London, 1693. 3dly,
The Fundamental Charter of Presbytery, London,
1695. 4thly, The Principles of the Cyprianick Age
with regard to Episcopal Power and Jurisdiction, Lon¬
don, 1695. 5thly, A Vindication of the Principles
of the Cyprianick Age, London, 1701. 6thly, Some
Remarks on the Letter from a Gentlemen in the City,
to a Minister in the Country, on Mr David William¬
son's Sermon before the General Assembly, Edinburgh,
1703. 7thly, A Brief Examination of some Things
in Mr Meldmm’s Sermon, preached on the 16th of
May 1703, against a Toleration to those of the Epis¬
copal Persuasion, Edinburgh, 170-3. Stlvly, The Rea-
sonableness of a Toleration of those of the Episcopal
Persuasion inquired into purely on Church Principles,
Edinburgh, 1704*. 9thly, The Life of Gawin Dou¬
glas, in 1710. lOtlily, An Introduction to Drum-
mend's History of the Five James’s, Edinburgh, 1711.
< If the principles maintained in these publications, dif¬
ferent readers will think very differently; and it is pro-
pable that the acrimony displayed in some of them wid
be generally condemned in the present day ; whilst the
learning and acuteness of their author will be univer¬
sally acknowledged and admired by all who can dis¬
tinguish merit in a friend or an adversary.
SAGENE, or Sajene, a P.ucsian long measure, 500
of which make a verst: the sagene is equal to seven
English feet.
SAG IN A, a genus of plants belonging to the tetran-
dria class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 22d order, Cartjojihyllci. See Botany Index.
SAGITTA, in Astronomy, the Arrow, a constella¬
tion of the northern hemisphere near the Eagle, and one
of the 48 old asterions. According to the fabulous
ideas of the Greeks, this constellation owes its origin to
one of the arrows of Hercules, with which he killed the
eagle or vulture that gnawed the liver of Prometheus.
In the catalogues of Ptolemy, Tycho, and Helvelius,
the stars of this constellation are only five in number,
while Flamstead made them amount to 18.
Sagitta, in Geometry, a term used by some writers
for the absciss of a curve.
Sagitta, in Trigonometry, the same as the versed
sine of an arch, being so denominated because it is like
a dart or arrow, standing on the chord of the arch.
SAGITTARIA, Arrow-head, a genus of plants
belonging to the monoecia class; and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the fifth order, Tripetaloidece. See
Botany Index.?—A bulb which is fumed at the lower
part
<
S A IT [ 451 ] S A II
tarfa part of the root of a species of this plant, constitutes a
I considerable part of the food of the Chinese ; and upon
that account they cultivate it.
SAGITTARIUS, in Astronomy, name of one of
the 12 signs of the zodiac.
SAGO, a nutritive substance brought from the East
Indies, of considerable use in diet as a restorative. It is
. produced from a species of palm-tree (CrcAf cireinalis,
Lin.) growing spontaneously in the East Indies without
any culture. The progress of its vegetation in the early
stages is very slow. At first it is a mere shrub, thick
set with thorns, which make it difficult to come near it;
but as soon as its stem is once formed, it rises in a short
time to the height of 30 feet, is about six feet in cir¬
cumference, and imperceptibly loses its thorns. Its
ligneous bark is about an inch in thickness, and covers
a multitude of long fibres ; which, being interwoven
one with another, envelope a mass of a gummy kind of
meal. As soon as this tree is ripe, a whitish dust, which
transpires through the pores of the leaves, and adheres
to their extremities, proclaims its maturity. The Ma¬
lays then cut them down near the root, divide them
into several sections, which they split into quarters ;
they then scoop out the mass of mealy substance, which
is enveloped by and adheres to the fibres; they dilute it
in pure water, and then pass it through a straining bag
of fine cloth, in order to separate it from the fibres.
When this paste has lost part of its moisture by evapo¬
ration, the Malays throw it into a kind of earthen ves¬
sels, of different shapes, where they allow it to dry and
harden. This paste is a wholesome nourishing food,
and may be preserved for many years. The Indians
eat it diluted with water, and sometimes baked or boil¬
ed. Through a principle of humanity, they reserve the
finest part of this meal for the aged and infirm. A jelly
is sometimes made of it, which is white and of a deli¬
cious flavour.
SAGUM, in Roman antiquity, a military habit, o-
pen from top to bottom, and usually fastened on the
right shoulder with a buckle or clasp. It was not dif¬
ferent in shape from the chlamys of the Greeks, and
the paludamenlum of the generals. The only differ¬
ence between them was, that the paludamentum was
made of a richer stuff, was generally of a purple co¬
lour, and both longer and fuller than the sagum.
SAGUNTUM, an ancient town of Spain, now
called Morvedro, where there are still the ruins of a
Roman amphitheatre to be seen. The new town is
seated on a river called Morvedro, 15 miles to the north
ef Valencia, in E. Long. 0. 10. N. Lat. 39. 38. It
was taken by Lord Peterborough in 1706.
SAHARA, or Zaara, the Great Desert, is a vast
extent of sand in the interior parts of Africa, which,
with the lesser deserts of Bornou, Bilma, Barca, Sort,
&c. is equal to about one half of Europe. If the sand
be considered as the ocean, the Sahara has its gulfs and
bays, as also its islands, or Oases, fertile in groves and
pastures, and in many instances containing a great po¬
pulation, subject to order and regular government.
The great body, or western division of this ocean,
comprised between Fezzan and the Atlantic, is no less
than 50 caravan journeys across, from north to south ;
or from 750 to 800 G. miles; and double that extent in
length: without doubt the largest desert in the world.
This division contains but a scanty portion of islands
(or oases), and those also-of small extent: but the east- Falmra,
ern division has many, and some of them very large. s,tlliltc-
Fezzan, Gadamis, Taboo, Ghanat, Agadez, Augila,' v
Berdoa, are amongst the principal ones: besides which,
there are a vast number of small ones. In effect, this
is the part of Africa alluded to by Strabo, when he
says, from Cneius Piso, that Africa may be compared
to a leopard’s skin.
From the best inquiries that Mr Park could make
when a kind of captive among the Moors at Ludamar,
the Western Desert, he says, maybe pronounced almost
destitute of inhabitants; except where the scanty vege¬
tation, which appears in certain spots, affords pasturage
for the flocks of a few miserable Arabs, who wander
from one well to another. In other places, where the
supply of water and pasturage is more abundant, small
parties of the Moors have taken up their residence.
Here they live, in independent poverty, secure from the
tyrannical government of Barbary. But the greater
part of the desert, being totally destitute of water, is
seldom visited by any human being ; unless where the
trading caravans trace out their toilsome and dangerous
route across it. In some parts of this extensive waste,
the ground is covered with low stunted shrubs, which
serve as land-marks for the caravans, and furnish the
camels with a scanty foragO. In other parts, the discon¬
solate wanderer, wherever he turns, sees nothing around
him but a vast interminable expanse of sand and sky; a
gloomy and barren void, where the eye finds no parti¬
cular object to rest upon, and the mind is filled with
painful apprehensions of perishing with thirst. Sur¬
rounded by this dreary solitude, the traveller sees the
dead bodies of birds, that the violence of the wind has
brought from happier regions; and, as he ruminates on
the fearful length of his remaining passage, listens with
horror to the voice of the driving blast—the only sound
that interrupts the awful repose of the desert.
The wild animals which inhabit these melancholy
regions, are the antelope and the ostrich ; their swift¬
ness of foot enabling them to reach the distant water¬
ing-places. On the skirts of the desert, where the wTa-
ter is more plentiful, are found lions, panthers, ele¬
phants, and wild boars.
The only domestic animal that can endure the fa¬
tigue of crossing the desert is the camel; and it is
therefore the only beast of burden employed by the
trading caravans which traverse, in different directions,
from Barbary to Nigritia. The flesh of this useful and
docile creature, though to our author's taste it was
dry and unsavoury, is preferred by the Moors to all
others. The milk of the female, he says, is in univer¬
sal esteem, and is indeed pleasant and nutritive.
That the desert has a dip towards the east, as well as
the south, seems to be proved by the course of the Ni¬
ger. Moreover, the highest points of North Africa,
that is to say, the mountains of Mandinga and Atlas,
are situated very far to the west. The desert, for the
most part, abounds with salt. But we hear of salt
mines only in the part contiguous to Nigritia, from
whence salt is drawn for the use of those countries, as
well as of the Moorish states adjoining; there being no
salt in the negro countries south of the Niger. There
are salt lakes also in the eastern part of the desert.
SAHLITE, a species of mineral, see Mineralo¬
gy Index.
SAI*
3 L 2
S A I [ 452 ] S A I
SAI, a large town near the banks of the Niger,
which, according to Mr Park, is completely surround¬
ed by two very deep trenches, at about two hundred
yards distant from the walls. On the top of the trenches
are. a number of square towers : and the whole has the
appearance of a regular fortification. Inquiring into
the origin of this extraordinary entrenchment, our au¬
thor learned from two of the towns-people the follow¬
ing particulars ; which, if true, furnish a mournful pic¬
ture of the enormities of African wars :
About fifteen years before our traveller visited Sai,
when the king of Bambarra desolated Maniana, the
Dooty of Sai had two sons slain in battle, fighting in
the king’s cause. He had a third son living; and
when the king demanded a further reinforcement of
men, and this youth among the rest, the Dooty refused
to send him. This conduct so enraged the king, that
when he returned from Maniana, about the beginning
of the rainy season, and found the Dooty protected by
the inhabitants, he sat down before Sai with his army,
and surrounded the town with the trenches which had
attracted our ^author’s notice. After a siege of two
months, the towns-people became involved in all the
horrors of famine; and whilst the king’s army wTere
feasting in their trenches, they saw with pleasure the
miserable inhabitants of Sai devour the leaves and bark
of the Bentang tree that stood in the middle of the
town. Finding, however, that the besieged would
sooner perish than surrender, the king had recourse to
treachery. He promised, that if they would open the
gates, no person should be put to death, nor suffer any
injury, but the Dooty alone. The poor old man de¬
termined to sacrifice himself, for the sake of his fellow-
citizens, and immediately walked over to the king’s
army, where he was put to death. His son, in at¬
tempting to escape, was caught and massacred in the
trenches j and the rest of the towns-people were car¬
ried away captives, and sold as slaves to the different
Negro traders. Sai, according to Major Kennel, is
situated in N. Lat. 14<0, and in W. Long. 3° 7'.
. SAICK, or Saique, a Turkish vessel, very com¬
mon in the Levant for carrying merchandise.
SAIDE, the modern name of Sidon. See Sidoxt.
SAIL, in Navigation, an assemblage of several
breadths of canvas sewed together by the lists, and
edged round with cord, fastened to the yards of a ship,
to make it drive before the wind. See Ship.
The edges of the cloths, or pieces, of which a sail
is composed, are generally sewed together with a dou¬
ble seam ; and. the whole is skirted round at the edges
with a cord, called the bolt-rope.
Although the form of sails is extremely different,
they are all nevertheless triangular or quadrilateral
figures ; or, in other words, their surfaces are contain¬
ed either between three or four sides.
The former of these are sometimes spread by a yard,
as lateen-sails ; and otherwise by a stay, as stay-sails ;
or by a mast, as shoulder-of-mutton sails; in all which
cases the foremost leech or edge is attached to the said
yard, mast, or stay, throughout its whole length. The
latter, or those which are four-sided, are either extend-
e(l by yards, as the principal yards of a ship; or by
yards and booms, as the studding-sails, drivers, ring¬
tails, and all those sails which are set occasionally; or
by gaffs and booms, as the main-sails of sloops and Sail,
brigantines. 1—^
The principal sails of a ship (fig. 1.) are the courses ^
or lower sails a; the top-sails b, which are next incc<jjCLXVIU
order above the courses; and the top-gallant sails c, ° '
which are expanded above the top-sails.
The courses are the main-sail, fore-sail, and mizen,
main stay-sail, fore stay-sail, and mizen stay-sail; but
more particularly the three first. The main stay-sail
is rarely used except in small vessels.
In all quadrangular sails the upper edge is called
the head; the sides or skirts are called leeches; and the-
bottom or lower edge is termed the Jbot. If the head
is parallel to the foot, the two low corners are deno¬
minated clues, and the upper corners earings.
In all triangular sails, and in those four-sided sails
wherein the head is not parallel to the foot, the fore¬
most corner at the foot is called the tack, and the after
lower-corner the clue ; the foremost perpendicular or
sloping edge is called the fore-leech, and the hindmost
the after-leech.
The heads of all four-sided sails, and the fore-leeches
of lateen-sails, are attached to their respective yard or
gaff by a number of small cords called ro-bands ; and
the extremities are tied to the yard-arms, or to the peek
of the gaff, by earings.
The stay-sails are extended upon stays between the
masts, whereon they are drawn up or down occasion¬
ally, as a curtain slides upon its rod, and their lower
parts are stretched out by a tack and sheet. The
clues of a top-sail are drawn out to the extremities of
the lower yard, by two large ropes called the topsail
sheets; and the clues of the top-gallant sails are in
like manner extended upon the top-sail yard-arms, as
exhibited bj'- fig. 2. Fig. 2.
The studding-sails are set beyond the leeches or
skirts of the main-sail and fore-sail, or of the top-sails
or top-gallant sails of a ship. Their upper and lower
edges are accordingly extended by poles run out be¬
yond the extremities of the yards for this purpose.
Those sails, however, are only set in favourable winds
and moderate weather.
All sails derive their name from the mast, yard, or
stay, upon which they are extended. Thus the prin¬
cipal sail extended upon the main-mast is called the
mainsail, d; the next above, which stands upon the
main-top mast, is termed the main-top sail, e ; and the
highest, which is spread across the main-top-gallant
mast, is named the main-top-gallant sail, f.
In the same manner there is the fore-sail, g; the
fore-top sail, h ; and the fore-top-gallant sail, i; the
mizen, k; the mizen-top sail, l; and mizen-top-gal*
lant sail, m. Thus also there is the main-stay sail, o;
main top-mast stay-sail, p ; and main-top-gallant stay¬
sail, q; with a middle stay-sail which stands between
the two last.
N.B. All these stay-sails are between the main and
fore-masts..
The stay-sails between the main-mast and mizen-
mast are the mizen stay-sail, r; and the mizen top¬
mast stay-sail, s; and sometimes a mizen top-gallant
stay-sail above the latter.
The stay-sails between the foremast and the bow¬
sprit are the fore stay-sail, t; the fore top-mast stay-sail,
n}-;
S All
PLATE CCCCLX VIIL
S A I [ 453 ] S A I
Sail, u; and the jib, x. There is besides two square sails
extended by yards under the bow-sprit, one of which
is called the sprit-sail, y ; and the other the sprit-sad
topsail, z.
The studding-sails being extended upon the different
yards of the main-mast and fore-mast, are likewise
named according to their stations, the lower, top-mast,
or top-gallant studding sails.
The ropes by which the lower yards of a ship are
hoisted up to their proper height on the masts, are
called the jears. In all other sails the ropes em¬
ployed for this purpose are called haliards.
The principal sails are then expanded by haliards,
sheets, and bowlines; except the courses, which are al¬
ways stretched out below by a tack and sheet. They
are drawn up together, or trussed up, by bunt-lines,
clue-lines, dd; leech-lines, e e; reef-tackles,slab¬
line, g; and spiling-lines. As the bunt-lines and leech¬
lines pass on the other side of the sail, they are ex¬
pressed by the dotted lines in the figure.
The courses, top-sails, and top-gallant sails, arc
wheeled about the mast, so as to suit the various di¬
rections of the wind, by braces. The higher studding-
sails, and in general all the stay-sails, are drawn down,
so as to be furled, or taken in, by down-hauls.
Some experienced sail-makers contend, that it would
be of much advantage if many of the sails of ships were
made of equal magnitude; in which case, when necessi¬
ty required it, they could be interchangeably used. For
example, as the mizen top-sail is now made nearly as
large as the main top-gallant sail, it would be easy to
make the }7ards, masts, and sails, so as mutually to suit
each other. The main and fore-top sails differ about
two feet at head and foot, and from one to three feet
in depth. These likewise could be easily made alike,
and in some cases they are so. The same may be said
of the main and fore top-gallant sails, and of the mizen
top-gallant sail, and main fore-royal. The main-sail
and fore-sail might also, with respect to their head, be
made alike ; but as the former has a gore at the leech,
and a larger gore at the foot for clearing it of the gal¬
lows, boats, &c. which the latter has not, there might
be more difficulty in arranging them. The difficulty,
however, appears not to be insurmountable. These
alterations, it is thought, would be extremely useful in
the event of losing sails by stress of weather. Fewer
sails would be thus necessary, less room would be re¬
quired to stow them, and there would be less danger
of confusion in taking them out. But perhaps the
utility of these alterations will be more felt in the mer¬
chant-service than in the navy, which latter has always
a large store of spare sails, and sufficient room to stow
them in order. Thus, too, spare yards and masts might
be considerably reduced in number, and yet any casual
damages more easily repaired at sea. Top-mast stud¬
ding sails are occasionally substituted for awnings, and
might, by a very little attention in planning the rig¬
ging of a ship, be so contrived as to answer both pur¬
poses. See Ship-buildixg.
Sail is also a name applied to any vessel seen at a
distance under sail, and is equivalent to ship.
To set Sail, is to unfurl and expand the sails upon
their respective yards and stays, in order to begin the
action of sailing.
To Malie Sail, is to spread an additional quantity
of sail, so as to increase the ship's velocity.
To shorten Sail, is to reduce or take in part of the
sails, with an intention to diminish the ship’s velocity.
To Strike Sail, is to lower it suddenly. This is
particularly used in saluting or doing homage to a su¬
perior force, or to one whom the law of nations ac¬
knowledges as superior in certain regions. Thus all'
foreign vessels strike to a British man of war in the
British seas.
SAILING, the movement by which a vessel is-
wafted along the surface of the water, by the action
of the wind upon her sails.
When a ship changes her state of rest into that of
motion, as in advancing out of a harbour, or from her
station at anchor, she acquires her motion very gra¬
dually, as a body which arrives not at a certain velo¬
city till after an infinite repetition of the action of its-
weight.
The first impression of the wind greatly affects the
velocity, because the resistance of the water might de¬
stroy it; since the velocity being but small at first, the
resistance of the water which depends on it will be
very feeble : but as the ship increases her motion,
the force of the wind on the sails will be diminished ;
whereas, on the contrary, the resistance of the water
on the bow will accumulate in proportion to the velo¬
city with which the vessel advances. Thus the repe¬
tition of the degrees of force, which the action of the
sail adds to the motion of the ship, is perpetually de¬
creasing; whilst, on the contrary, the new degrees add¬
ed to the effort of resistance on the bow are always aug¬
menting. The velocity is then accelerated in propor¬
tion as the quantity added is greater than that which is
subtracted; but when the two powers become equal,
when the impression of the wind on the sails has lost so-
much of its force, as only to act in proportion to the
opposite impulse of resistance on the bow, the ship will
then acquire no additional velocity, but continue to sail
with a constant uniform motion. The great weight of
the ship may indeed prevent her from acquiring her
greatest velocity; but when she has attained it, she
will advance by her own intrinsic motion, without gain¬
ing any new degree of velocity, or lessening what she
has acquired. She moves then by her own proper
force in vacuo, without being afterwards subject either
to the effort of the wind on the sails, or to the resist¬
ance of the water on the bow. If at any time the im¬
pulsion of the water on the bow should destroy any
part of the velocity, the effort of the wind on the sails
will revive it, so that the motion will continue the same.
It must, however, be observed, that this state will only
subsist when these two powers act upon each other in
direct opposition; otherwise they will mutually destroy
one another. The whole theory of working ships de¬
pends on this counter action, and the perfect equality
which should subsisfBetween the effort of the wind
and the impulsion of the water.
The effect of sailing is produced by a judicious ar¬
rangement of the sails to the direction of the uind^
Accordingly the various modes of sailing are derived
from the different degrees and situations of the wind
with regard to the course of the vessel. See Seam ax-
shie»
To
S A I
To illustrate tins observation by examples, the plan
of a number of ships proceeding on various courses is
represented by fig. 3. which exhibits the 32 points of
the compass, of which C is the centre; the direction
of the wind, which is northerly, being expressed by the
arrow.
It has been obsei'ved in the article Close-Hauled,
that a ship in that situation will sail nearly within six
paints of the wind. Thus the ships B and y are close-
hauled ; the former being on the larboard-tack, steer¬
ing E. N. E. and the latter on the starboard-tack, sail¬
ing W. N. W. with their yards a b braced obliquely, as
suitable to that manner of sailing. The line of battle
on the larboard-tack would accordingly be expressed
by CB, and on the starboard by C y.
When a ship is neither close-hauled, nor steering
afore the wind, she is in general said to be sailing large.
The relation of the wind to her course is precisely de¬
termined by the number of points between the latter
and the course close-hauled. Thus the ships c and x
have the wind one point large, the former steering
E. b N. and the latter W. b N. The yards remain al¬
most in the same position as in B and y ; the bowlines
and sheets of the sails being only a little slackened.
The ships d and u have the wind two points large,
the one steering east and the other west. In this man¬
ner of sailing, however, the wind is more particularly
said to be upon the beam, as being at right angles
with the keel, and coinciding with the position of the
ship’s beams. The yards are now more across the ship,
the bowlines are cast off, and the sheets more relaxed ;
so that the effort of the wind being applied nearer to
the line of the ship’s course, her velocity is greatly aug¬
mented.
In e and t the ships have the wind three points large,
or one point abaft the beam, the course of the former
being E. b S. and that of the latter W. b S. The sheets
are still more flowing, the angle which the yards make
with the keel further diminished, and the course acce¬
lerated in proportion.
The ships /'and f, the first of winch steers E. S. E.
and the second W. S. W. have the wind four points
large, or twro points abaft the beam. In g and r the
wind is five points large, or three points abaft the
beam, the former, sailing S. E. b E. and the latter
S. W. b W. In both these situations the sheets are still
farther slackened, and the yards laid yet more athwart
the ship’s length, in proportion as the wind approaches
the quarter.
The ships h and y, steering S. E. and S. W. have
the wind six points large, or more properly on the quar¬
ter ; which is considered as the most favourable manner
of sailing, because all the sails co-operate to increase
the ship’s velocity; whereas, when the wind is right
aft, as in the ship m, it is evident that the wind in its
passage to the foremost sails will be intercepted by
those which are farther aft. When the wind is on the
quarter, the fore-tack is brought to the cat-head; and
the main-tack being cast off’, the weather-clue of the
main-sail is hoisted up to the yard, in order to let the
wind pass freely to the fore-sail; and the yards are dis¬
posed so as to make an angle of about two points, or
nearly 22°, with the keel.
The ships i andp, of which the former sails S. E. b S,
3n,d the latter S. W. £ S. are said to have the wind
S A I
three points on the larboard or starboard quarter : and Sail
those expressed by k and o, twm points ; as steering S. Q I
S. E. and S. S. W. in both which positions the yards . a‘nt^
make nearly an angle of 16°, or about a point and a
half, with the ship’s length.
When the wind is one point on the quarter, as in
the ships l and n, whose courses are S. b E. and S. b W.
the situation of the yards and sails is very little dif¬
ferent from the last mentioned; the angle which they
make with the keel being somewhat less than a point,
and the stay-sails being rendered of very little service.
The ship in sails right afore the wind, or with the wind
right aft. In this position the yards are laid at right
angles with the ship’s length.: the stay-sails being en¬
tirely useless, are hauled down ; and the main-sail is
drawn up in the brails, that the foresail may operate;
a measure which considerably facilitates the steerage,
or effort of the helm. As the wind is then intercepted
by the main-top sail and main-top-gallant sail, in its
passage to the fore-top sail and fore-top-gallant sail,
these latter are by consequence entirely becalmed; and
might therefore be furled, to prevent their being fretted
by flapping against the mast, but that their effort con¬
tributes greatly to prevent the ship from broaching-to,
when she deviates from her course to the right or left,
thereof.
Thus all the different methods of sailing may be di¬
vided into four, viz. close-hauled, large, quartering,
and afore the wind ; all which relate to the direction
of the wind with regard to the ship’s course, and the
arrangement of the sails.
Sailing also implies a particular mode of naviga¬
tion, formed on the principles, and regulated by the
laws, of trigonometry. Hence we say, Plain Sailing,
Mercator’s, Middle-latitude, Parallel, and Great-circle
Sailing. See the article Navigation.
SAIL-Making, the art of making sails. See Sail
and Ship-building.
SAILOR, the same with Mariner and Seaman.
SAINT, means a person eminent for piety and vir¬
tue, and is generally applied by us to the apostles and
other holy persons mentioned in Scripture. But the
Romanists make its application much more extensive.
Under the word Canonization we have already said
something on their practice of creating saints. Our
readers, however, will not, wre trust, be displeased with
the following more enlarged account, which they them¬
selves give of the matter. The canonization of saints,
then, they tell us, is the enrolment of any person in
the canon or catalogue of those who are called saints ;
or, it i.s a judgment and sentence of the church, by
which it is declared, that a deceased person was eminent
for sanctity during his lifetime, and especially towards
the end of it; and that consequently he must now be
in glory with God, and deserves to be honoured by
the church on earth with that veneration which she
is wont to pay to the blessed in heaven.
The discipline with regard to this matter has varied.
It would seem that in the first ages every bishop in his
own diocese was wont to declare what persons were to
be honoured as saints by his people. Hence St Cy¬
prian, about the middle of the third century, B. 3.
ep. 6. requires that he be informed of those who should
die in prison for the faith, that so he might make men¬
tion of them in the holy sacrifice with the martyrs,
[ 454 ]
S A I
Saint. might honour them afterwards on die anniversary
—y——' day of their happy death. This veneration continued
sometimes to be confined to one country ; but some¬
times it extended to distant provinces, and even be¬
came universal all over the church. It was thus that
St Laurence, St Ambrose, St Augustine, St Basil, and
many others, appear to have been canonized by cus¬
tom and universal persuasion. In those ages none
were reckoned saints but the apostles, the martyrs,
and very eminent confessors, whose sanctity was no¬
torious everywhere.
Afterwards it appears that canonizations were wont
to be performed in provincial synods under the direc¬
tion of the metropolitan. It was thus that St Isidore
of Seville was canonized in the 7th century, by the
8th council of Toledo, 14 years after his death. This
manner of canonization continued occasionally down
to the 12th century. The last instance of a saint
canonized in that way, is that of St Walter abbot of
Pontoise, who was declared a saint by the archbishop
of Rouen in the year 1153.
In the 12th century, in order to prevent mistakes
in so delicate a matter, Pope Alexander III. judged it
proper to reserve this declaration to the Holy See of
Rome exclusively; and decreed that no one should
for the future be honoured by the church as a saint
without the express approbation of the pope.
Since that time, the canonization of saints has been
carried on in the form of a process; and there is at
Rome a congregation of cardinals, called the congre¬
gation of holy rites, who are assisted by several divines
under the name of consultors, who examine such mat¬
ters, and prepare them for the decision of his holiness.
When therefore any potentate, province, city, or reli¬
gious body, think fit, they apply to the pope for the
canonization of any person.
The first juridical step in this business must be taken
by the bishop in whose diocese the person for whom
the application is made had lived and died, who by his
own authority calls witnesses to attest the opinion of the
holiness, the virtues, and miracles, of the person in que¬
stion. When the deceased has resided in difterent dio¬
ceses, it may be necessary that different bishops take
such depositions ; the originals of which are preserved
in the archives of their respective churches, and authen¬
tic copies sealed up are sent to Rome by a special mes¬
senger, where they are deposited with the congregation
of rites, and where they must remain for the space of
ten years without being opened. They are then open¬
ed, and maturely examined by the congregation, and
with their advice the pope allows the cause to go on
or not as he thinks proper. The solicitors for the ca¬
nonization are then referred by his holiness to the said
congregation, which, with his authority, gives a com¬
mission to one or more bishops, or other respectable
persons, to examine, on the spot and in the places where
the person in question has lived and died, into his cha¬
racter and whole behaviour. These commissioners sum-
S A I
mon witnesses, take depositions, and collect letters and Safhe.
other writings of the venerable man, and get all the v—
intelligence they can concerning him, and the opinion
generally entertained of him. The report of these
commissioners is considered attentively and at length by
the congregation, and every part of it discussed by the
consultors, when the congregation determines whether
or not they can permit the process to go on. If it be
allowed to proceed, a cardinal, who is called"ponent, un¬
dertakes to be the principal agent in that affair. The
first question then that comes to be examined is, whe¬
ther or not the person proposed for canonization can be
proved to have been in an eminent degree endued with
the moral virtues of prudence, justice, fortitude, and
temperanceand with the theological virtues of faith,
hope, and charity? All this is canvassed with great de¬
liberation ; and there is a distinguished ecclesiastic call¬
ed the promoter of the holy faith, who is sworn, to make
all reasonable objections to the proofs that are adduced
in favour of the canonization. If the decision be fa¬
vourable, then the proofs of miracles done to show the
sanctity of the person in question are permitted to be
brought forward ; when two miracles must be verified
to the satisfaction of the congregation, both as to the
reality of the facts, and as to their having been truly
above the power of nature. If the decision on this
comes out likewise favourable, then the whole is laid
before the pope and what divines he chooses (a). Pub¬
lic prayer and fasting are likewise prescribed, in order
to obtain light and direction from heaven. After all
this long procedure, when the pope is resolved to give
his approbation, he issues a bull, first of beatification>
by which the person is declared blessed, and afterwards
another of sanctification, by which the name of saint is
given him. These hulls are published in St Peter’s
church with very great solemnity.
A person remarkable for holiness of life, even before
he is canonized, may be venerated as-such by those who
are persuaded of his eminent virtue, and his prayers
may be implored; but all this must rest on private opi¬
nion. After his canonization, his name is inserted in
the Martj'rology, or catalogue of saints, of which tire
respective portion is read every day in the choir at the
divine office. A day is also appointed for a yearly
commemoration of him. His name may be mentioned
in the public church service, and his intercession with
God besought. His relics may be enshrined ; he may
be painted with rays of glory, and altars and churches
may be dedicated to God in honour ef him, and in
thanksgiving to the divine goodness for the blessings
bestowed on him in life, and for the glory to which he
is raised in heaven.
The affair of a canonization is necessarily very ex¬
pensive, because so many persons must be employed
about it; so many journos must be made; so many
writings for and against it must be drawn out. The
expense altogether amounts to about 25,000 Roman
crowns, or 6000/. sterling. But it is generally con¬
trived
[ 455 ]
(a) His holiness generally appoints three consistories; in the first of which the cardinals only assist, and
give their opinion ; in the second, a preacher pronounces a speech in praise of the candidate before a numerous
audience; to the third, not only the cardinals, but all the bishops who are at Rome, are invited, and all a£"
them give their vote by word of mouth.
S A I [ 456 ] SAT
s.iiiit, trived to canonize two or three at a time, by which
Sam tea. raeans the particular expense of each is very much les-
gened, the solemnity being cpmmon.
It often happens that the solicitors for a canoniza¬
tion are unsuccessful. Thus the Jesuits, even when
their interest at Rome was greatest, could not obtain
the canonization of Bellarmine ; and rt is remarkable,
that the objection is said to have been, his having de¬
fended the indirect power of the pope over Christian
princes even in temporals.
Several authors have written on canonization, and
particularly Prosper Lambertini, afterwards pope under
the name of Benedict XIV., who had held the office of
promoter of the faith for many years. He published on it
a large work in several volumes, in folio, of which there
is an abridgement in French. In this learned perform¬
ance there is a full history of the canonization of saints
in general, and of all the particular processes of that
kind that are on record : an account is given of the
manner of proceeding in these extraordinary trials; and
it is shown,'that, besides the assistance of providence,
which is implored and expected in what is so much
connected with religion, all prudent human means are
made use of, in order to avoid mistakes, and to obtain
all the evidence of which the matter is susceptible, and
which must appear more than sufficient to every im¬
partial judge. See Pope, Popery, &c.
Saint Catharine, a Portuguese island in the South
sea, not far distant from the coast of Brazil. It was
visited by La Perouse, who ascertained it to lie between
27° 19' 10'' and 27° 49' N. Lat. and its most norther¬
ly point to lie in 49° 49' W. Long, from Paris. Its
breadth from east to west is only six miles, and it is se¬
parated from the main land by a channel only about 200
fathoms broad. On the point stretching farthest into this
channel is situated the city of Nostra Sehoradel Destero,
the metropolis of the government, and the place of the
governor’s residence. It contains about 400 houses,
and 3000 inhabitants, and has an exceedingly pleasant
appearance. In the year 1712, this island served as a
retreat to vagabonds, who effected their escape from dif¬
ferent parts of the Brazils, being only-nominal subjects
of Portugal. Its whole population has been estimated
at 20,000. The soil is extremely fertile,- producing all
sorts of fruit, vegetables, and corn, almost spontane¬
ously. The whale fishery is very successful; but it is
the property of the crown, and is farmed by a company
at Lisbon, which has three considerable establishments
upon the coast. Every year they kill about 400 whales,
the produce of which, both oil and spermaceti, is sent
to Lisbon by the way of Rio Janeiro. The inhabitants
are idle spectators of this fishery, from which they de¬
rive not the smallest advantage. A very amiable pic¬
ture, however, is given of their hospitality to strangers,
by M. La Perouse.
SaiNr-Fain, a species of hedysarum. See Hedy-
sarum, Botany Index, and Agriculture Index.
SAINTES, an ancient and considerable town of
France, in the department of Lower Charente. Before
the revolution, it was a bishop’s see. It contained like¬
wise several convents, a Jesuits college, and an abbey
remarkable for its steeple, which is said to be one of the
loftisst in France. It is seated on an eminence, 37
miles south-east of Rochelle, and 262 south-south-west
of Paris. W. Long. Q. 38. N. Lat. 45.54. The cas-
l
tie is seated on a rock, and is reckoned impregnable. Salutes
The population in 1800 was 10,162. ^
This city was a Roman colony; and those conque-
rors of the earth, who polished the nations they subdued,.
have left behind them the traces of their magnificence.
In a hollow valley between two mountains, and almost
adjoining to one of the suburbs, are the ruins of the
amphitheatre. Though now in the last stage of decay,
its appearance is august and venerable. In some parts,
scarcely any of the arches are to be seen ; but the east
end is still in a great degree of preservation. From its
situation in a valley, and from the ruins of an aqueduct
which conveyed water to the town from near three
leagues distance, it has been supposed that Naumachiaj
were represented in it; but this amounts only to con¬
jecture. A triumphal arch, on which is an inscription
in Roman letters, merits likewise attention. It was
erected to Germanicus, on the news of his death, so
universally lamented throughout the empire. The river
Charente surrounds this city, as the Severn does that of
Shrewsbury, describing the form of a horse-shoe.
Except the remains of Roman grandeur yet visible
at Saintes, the place contains very little to detain or
amuse a traveller. It is built with great irregularity;
the streets are narrow and winding, the houses mean,
and almost all of them are some centuries old. The ca¬
thedral has been repeatedly defaced and destroyed by
Normans and Huguenots, who made war alike on every
monument of art or piety. One tower only escaped
their rage, which is said to have been built as early as
the year 800 by Charlemagne. It is of an enormous
magnitude, both as to height and circumference. These
circumstances have probably conduced more to its pre¬
servation during the fury of war, than any veneration
for the memory of its founder, or for the sanctity of
its institution.
SAINTOGNE, a province of France, now ..forming
with the province of Aunis the department of Lower
Charente, is bounded on the east-by Angoumois and
Perigord, on the north by Poitou and the territory of
Aunis, on the west by the ocean, and on the south by
Bourdelois and Giron, about 62 miles in length and
30 in. breadth. The river Charente runs-through the
middle of it, and renders it one of the finest and most
fertile provinces in France, abounding in all sorts of
corn and fruits : and it is said the best salt in Europe
is made here.
The SAINTS, are three small islands, three leagues
distant from Guadaloupe, which form a triangle, and
have a tolerable harbour. Thirty Frenchmen were
sent hither in 1648, but were soon driven away by an
excessive drought, which dried up their only spring be¬
fore they had time to make any reservoirs. A second
attempt was made in 1652, and permanent plantations
■were established, which now yield 50,000 weight of
coffee, and 100,000 of cotton.
SAJENE, a Russian measure of length, equal to
about seven English feet.
SAKRADAWENDRA is the name of one of the
Ceylonese deities, who commands and governs all the
rest, and formerly answered the prayers of his worship¬
pers ; but according to the fabulous account which is
given of him, the golden chair on which he sat, and
the foot of which was made of wax, that was softened
by their prayers and tears, and sunk downward, so that
S A L l 457 ] , , B A t
3 rada- he could take notice of tlieir requests and relieve them,
mlia being disposed of among the poor, they no longer de-
inis. rive any benefit from him, or pay him any reverence.
-y See Budun.
SAL. See Salt.
SALADIN, a famous sultan of Egypt, equally re¬
nowned as a warrior and legislator. He supported him¬
self by his valour, and the influence of his amiable cha¬
racter, against the united efforts of the chief Christian
potentates of Europe, who carried on the most unjust
wars against him, under the false appellation of Holy
JVars. See the articles Egypt and Croisade.
SALAMANCA, an ancient, large, rich, and po¬
pulous city of Spain, in the kingdom of Leon, situat-
•ed on the river Tonnes, about 75 miles west from
Madrid. It is said to have been founded by Teucer
the son of Telamon, who called it Salamis or Salman-
tica, in memory of the ancient Salamis. Here is an
university, the greatest in Spain, consisting of 24 col¬
leges, and perhaps inferior to none in the whole world,
in repect at least to its revenues, buildings, number of
scholars, and masters. Here are also many grand and
magnificent palaces, squares, convents, &c. Of the
colleges in the university, four are appropriated to
young men of quality ; and near it is an infirmary for
poor sick scholars. In the neighbourhood of this town
a battle was fought on the 21st July 1812, between
the British army under Lord Wellington, and the
Trench army under Marshal Marmont, in which the
latter was defeated with the loss of 7000 prisoners,
and a vast number killed and wounded. The British
loss amounted to 700 killed, and 4000 wounded.
W. Long. 6. 10. N. Lat. 41. 0.
SALAMANDER. See Lacerta, Erpetology
Index.
SAL4MIS, an island of the Archipelago, situated
m E. Long. 34. 0. N. Lat. 37. 32.—It was famous in
antiquity for a battle between the Greek and Persian
fleets. In the council of w ar held among the Persians
onthisoccask)n,all the commanders were for engaging,
because they knew this advice to be most agreeable to
4he king’s inclinations. Queen Artemisia was the only
person who opposed this resolution. She was queen of
Halicarnassus ; and followed Xerxes in this war with
five ships, the best equipped of any in the fleet, except
those of the Sidonians. This princess distinguished
herself on all occasions by her singular courage, and still
more by her prudence and conduct. She represented,
in the council of war we are speaking of, the dangerous
consequence of engaging a people that were far more
expert in maritime affairs than the Persians; alleging,
Jhat the loss of a battle at sea wrould be attended with
the ruin of their army ; whereas, by spinning out the
war, and advancing into the heart of Greece, they would
-create jealousies and divisions among their enemies, who
would separate from one another in order to defend
•each of them their own country ; and that the king
might, almost without striking a blow, make himself
master of Greece. This advice, though very prudent,
was not followed, but an engagement unanimously re¬
solved upon. Xerxes, in order to encourage his men by
his presence, caused a throne to be erected on the top of
an eminence, whence he might safely behold whatever
happened ; having several scribes about him, to write
down the names of such as should signalize themselves
against the enemy. The approach of the Persian fleet.
You XVIII. Part II.
with the news that a strong detachment from the army Sakims.
Was marching against Cleombrotus, who defended thev~-
isthmus, struck such a terror into the Pelopponesians,
that they could not by any intreaties be prevailed upon
to stay any longer at Salamis. Being therefore deter¬
mined to put to sea, and sail to the isthmus, Themisto-
cles privately dispatched a trusty friend to the Persian
commanders, informing them of the intended flight;
and exhorting them to send part of their fleet round the
island, in order to prevent their escape. The same mes¬
senger assured Xerxes, that Themistocles, Avho had sent
him that advice, designed to join the Persians, as soon
as the battle began, with all the Athenian ships. The
king giving credit to all he said, immediately caused a
strong squadron to sail round the island in the night, in
order to cut off the enemy’s flight. Early next morn¬
ing, as the Pelopponesians were preparing to set sail,
they found themselves encompassed on all sides by the
Persian fleet; and were against their will obliged to re¬
main in the straits of Salamis and expose themselves to
the same dangers with their allies. The Grecian fleet
consisted of 380 sail, that of the Persians of 2000 and
upwards. Themistocles avoided the engagement till a
certain wind, which rose regularly every day at the same
time, and which was entirely contrary to the enemy,
began to blow. As soon as he found himself favoured
by this wind, he gave the signal for battle. The Per¬
sians, knowing that they fought under their king’s eye,
advanced with great resolution; but the wand blowing
directly in their faces, and the largeness and number of
their ships embarrassing them in a place so strait and
narrow, their courage soon abated; which the Greeks
observing, used such efforts, that in a short time break¬
ing into the Persian fleet, they entirely disordered them;
some flying towards Phalarus where their army lay en¬
camped ; others saving themselves in the harbours of
the neighbouring islands. The lonians were the first
that betook themselves to flight. But Queen Artemi¬
sia distinguished herself above all the rest, her ships be¬
ing the last that fled : which Xerxes observing, cried
out that the men behaved like women, and the women
with the courage and intrepidity of men. The Athe¬
nians Avere so incensed against her, that they offered a
reward of 10,000 drachmas to any one that should take
her alive: but she, in spite of all their efforts, got clear
of the ships that pursued her, and arrived safe on the
coast of Asia. In this engagement, which was one of
the most memorable actions we find recorded in his¬
tory, the Grecians lost 40 ships ; and the Persians
200, besides a great many more that were taken, with
all the men and ammunition they carried.
The island of Salamis is of a very irregular shape ;
it was reckoned 70 or 80 stadia, L e. 8 or 10 miles,
long, reaching westward as far as the mountains call¬
ed Kerala, or The Horns. Pausanias informs us, that
on one side of this island stood in his time a temple of
Diana, and on the other a trophy for a victory obtain¬
ed by Themistocles, together with the temple of Cy-
chreus, the site of which is now thought to be occu¬
pied by the church ot St Nicholas.
The city of Salamis was demolished by the Athenians,
because in the war w ith Cassander it surrendered to the
Macedonians, from disaffection. In the second century,
when it was visited by Pausanias, some ruins of the A-
goraor market-place remained, with a temple and image
of Ajax; and not far from the port was shown a stone,
f 3 M o»
S A L [ 4^ ] SAL
Sal amis on which, they related, Telamon sat to view the Sala-
’ g||je minian ships on their departure to join the Grecian
a c’ . fleet at Aulis. The walls may still he traced, and it
*"^v ' has been conjectured were about four miles in circum¬
ference. The level space within them was now cover¬
ed with green corn. The port is choked with mud,
and was partly diy. Among the scattered marbles are
some with inscriptions. One is of great antiquity, be¬
fore the introduction of the Ionic alphabet. On an¬
other, near the port, the name of Solon occurs. This
renowned lawgiver was a native of Salamis, and a sta¬
tue of him was erected in the market-place, with one
hand covered by his vest, the modest attitude in which
he was accustomed to address the people of Athens.
An inscription on black marble was also copied in 1676
near the ruin of a temple, probably that of Ajax. The
island of Salamis is now inhabited by a few Albanians,
who till the ground. Their village is called Ampelaki,
“ the Vineyard, ” and is at a distance from the port,
standing more inland. In the church are marble frag¬
ments and some inscriptions.
SALARY, a recompense or consideration made to
a person for his pains and industry in another man’s
business. The word is used in the statute 23 Edw.IlI.
cap. 1. Salarium at first signified the rents or profits
of a salle, hall, or house (and in Gascoigne they now
call the seats of the gentry sala’s, as we do halls) ; but
afterwards it was taken for any wages, stipend, or an¬
nual allowance.
SALACIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
gynandria class. See Botany Index.
SALE, is the exchange of a commodity for money:
barter, or permutation, is the exchange of one com¬
modity for another. When the bargain is concluded,
an obligation is contracted by the buyer to pay the
value, and by the seller to deliver the commodity, at
the time and place agreed on, or immediately, if no
time be specified.
In this, as well as other mercantile contracts, the
safety of commerce requires the utmost good faith and
veracity. Therefore, although by the laws of Eng¬
land, a sale above the value of 10/. be not binding,
unless earnest be paid, or the bargain confirmed by
writing, a merchant would lose all credit who refused
to perform his agreement, although these legal requi¬
sites were omitted.
When a specific thing is sold, the property, even
before delivery, is in some respect vested in the buy¬
er ; and if the thing perishes, the buyer must bear the
loss. For example, if a horse dies before delivery, he
must pay the value : but if the bargain only deter¬
mines the quantity and quality of the goods, without
specifying the identical articles, and the seller’s ware¬
house, with all his goods, be burned, he is intitled
to no payment. He must also bear the loss if the
tiling perish through his fault; or when a particu¬
lar time and place of delivery is agreed on, if it perish
before it be tendered in terms of the bargain.
If a person purchase goods at a shop w ithout agree¬
ing for the price, he is liable for the ordinary market-
price at the time of purchase.
If the buyer proves insolvent before delivery, the
seller is not bound to deliver the goods without pay¬
ment or security.
If the iniportaticn, or use of the commodities sold,
L
he prohibited by law, or if the buyer knows that they Sale,
were smuggled, no action lies for delivery. Salep.
The property of goods is generally presumed, in fa-' r-■
vour of commerce, to belong to the possessor, and
cannot be challenged in the hands of an onerous pur¬
chaser. But to this there are some exceptions. * By
the Scots law, stolen goods may in all cases be re¬
claimed by the proprietor, and also by the English
law, unless they were bought bona fide in open mar¬
ket ; that is, in the accustomed public places, on stat¬
ed days, in the country, or in a shop in London ; and.
horses may be reclaimed, unless the sale be regularly
entered by the book-keeper of the market. In all
cases, if the goods be evicted by the lawful proprie¬
tor, the seller is liable to the purchaser for the value.
Actions for payment of shop-accounts, as well as o-
ther debts not constituted by writing, are limited in
England to six years. The testimony of one witness
is admitted ; and the seller’s books, although the per¬
son that kept them he dead, are good evidence for one
year. In Scotland, merchants books may be proved
within three years of the date of the last article, by
one witness, and the creditors books and oath in sup¬
plement. After three years, they can only be proved
by the oath or writ of the debtor. A merchant's books
are in all cases good evidence against him.
SALEP, in the Materia Median, the dried root of
a species of orchis. See Orchis, Botany Index.
Several methods of preparing salep have been pro¬
posed and practised. Geoffroy has delivered a very
judicious process for this purpose in the Histoire de
C Academic Rat/ale des Sciences, 1740 ; and Retmus, in
the Swedish Transactions, 1764, has improved Geof-
froy’s method. But Mr Moult of Rochdale has lately
favoured the public with a new manner of curing the
orchis root; by which salep is prepared, at least equal,
if not superior, to any brought from the Levant. The
new root is to be washed in water ; and the fine brown
skin which covers it is to be separated by means of a
small brush, or by dipping the root in hot water, and
rubbing it with a coarse linen cloth. When a suffici¬
ent number of roots have been thus cleaned, they are
to be spread on a tin-plate, and placed in an oven
heated to the usual degree, where they are to remain
six or ten minutes, in which time they will have lost
their milky whiteness, and acquired a transparency
like horn, without any diminution of bulk. Being ar¬
rived at this state, they are to be removed, in order
to dry and harden in the air, which will require seve¬
ral days to effect; or by using a very gentle heat, they
may be finished in a few hours.
Salep thus prepared, may be afforded in those parts
of England where labour bears a high value, at about
eightpence or tenpence per pound: and it might be
sold still cheaper, if the orchis were to be cured, with¬
out separating from it the brown skin which covers it;
a troublesome part of the process, and which does not
contribute to render the root either more palatable or
salutary whereas the foreign salep is now sold at fire
or six shillings per pound.
Salep is said to contain the greatest quantity of vege¬
table nourishment in the smallest hulk. Hence a very
judicious writer, to prevent the dreadful calamity of fa¬
mine at sea, has lately proposed that the powder of it
should constitute part of the provisions of every ship’s
company..
s A L [ 459 ] s A L
•alep- company. This powder and portable soup, dissolved
1 in boiling water, form a rich thick jelly, capable of
supporting life for a considerable length of time. An
ounce of each of these articles, with two quarts of
boiling water, will be sufficient subsistence for a man
a-day ; and as being a mixture of animal and vegetable
food, must prove more nourishing than double the
quantity of rice-cake, made by boiling rice in water:
which last, however, sailors are often obliged solely to
subsist upon for several months ; especially in voyages
to Guinea, when the bread and flour are exhausted,
and the beef and pork, having been salted in hot coun¬
tries, are become unfit for use.
“ But as a wholesome nourishment (says Dr Perci-
-» 'mys val*), rice is much inferior to salep. I digested several
2 U^)e alimentary mixtures prepared of mutton and water,
r ^eat UP bread, sea-biscuit, salep, rice-flower,sago-
.powder, potato, old cheese, &c. in a heat equal to that
of the human body. In 48 hours they had all acquir¬
ed a vinous smell, and were in brisk fermentation, ex¬
cept the mixture with rice, which did not emit many
air-bubbles, and was but little changed. The third
day several of the mixtures were sweet, and continu¬
ed to ferment; others had lost their intestine motion,
and were sour ; but the one which contained the rice
was become putrid. From this experiment it appears,
that rice as an aliment is slow of fermentation, and a
very weak corrector of putrefaction. It is therefore
an improper diet for hospital-patients ; but more par¬
ticularly for sailors in long voyages; because it is in¬
capable of preventing, and will not contribute much
to check, the progress of that fatal disease, the sea
scurvy. Under certain circumstances, rice seems dis¬
posed, of itself, without mixture, to become putrid ;
for by long keeping it sometimes acquires an offensive
feetor. Nor can it be considered as a very nutritive
kind of food, on account of its difficult solubility in
the stomach. Experience confirms the truth of this
conclusion; for it is observed by the planters in the
West Indies, that the negroes grow thin, and are less
able to work, whilst they subsist upon rice.
“ Salep has the singular property of concealing the
taste of saltwater ; a circumstance of the highest im¬
portance at sea, when there is a scarcity of fresh water.
I dissolved a dram and a half of common salt in a pint
of the mucilage of salep, so liquid as to be potable,
and the same quantity in a pint of spring water. The
salep was by no means disagreeable to the taste, but the
water was rendered extremely unpalatable. This ex¬
periment suggested to me the trial of the orchis root
as a corrector of acidity, a property which would ren¬
der it a very useful diet for children. But the solution
of it, when mixed with vinegar, seemed only to dilute
like an equal proportion of water, and not to cover its
sharpness, Salep, howrever, appears by my experi¬
ments to retard the acetous fermentation of milk ; and
-consequently would be a good lithing for milk-pottage,
especially in large towns, where the cattle being fed
upon sour draff must yield acescent milk.
“ Salep in a certain proportion, which I have not
yet been able to ascertain, would be a very useful and
profitable addition to bread. I directed one ounce of
'the powder to be dissolved in a quart of water, and
^lie mucilage to be mixed with a sufficient quantity of
flour, salt, and yeast. The flour amounted to two
pounds, the yeast to two ounces, and the salt to 80
grains. The loaf when baked was remarkably well
fermented, and weighed three pounds two ounces. A-
nother loaf, made with the same quantity of flour, &c.
weighed two pounds and 12 ounces ; from which it ap¬
pears that the salep, though used in so small a pro¬
portion, increased the gravity of the loaf six ounces,
by absorbing and retaining more water than the flour-
alone w as capable of. Half a pound of flour and an
ounce of salep were mixed together, and the water-
added according to the usual method of preparing
bread. The loaf when baked weighed 13 ounces and
a half; and would probably have been heavier if the
salep had been previously dissolved in about a pint of
water. But it should be remarked, that tire quantity
of flour used in this trial was not sufficient to conceal
the peculiar taste of the salep.
“ The restorative, mucilaginous, and demulcent qua¬
lities of the orchis root, render it of considerable use irr
various diseases. In the sea scurvy it powerfully obtunds
the acrimony of the fluids, and at the same time is easily
assimilated into a mild and nutritious chyle. In diar-
rheeas and the dysentery it is highly serviceable, by
sheathing the internal coat of the intestines, by abating
irritation, and gently correcting putrefaction. In the
symptomatic fever, which arises from the absorption of
pus from ulcers in the lungs, from wounds, or from am¬
putation, salep used plentifully is an admirable demul¬
cent, and well adapted to resist the dissolution of the
crasis of the blood, which is so evident in these cases.
And by the same mucilaginous quality, it is equally
efficacious in the strangury and dysury ; especially in
the latter, when arising from a venereal cause, because
the discharge of urine is then attended with the most
exquisite pain, from the ulceration about the neck of
the bladder and through the course of the urethra. I
have found it also an useful aliment for patients who la¬
bour under the stone or gravel. ” The ancient che¬
mists appear to have entertained a very high opinion
of the orchis root, as appears from the secreta secrcto-
rum of Raymund Lully, a work dated 1565.
SALERNO, an ancient-and considerable town of
Italy, in the-kingdom of Naples, and capital of the Hi¬
ther Principato, with an archbishop’s see, a castle*
harbour, and an university chiefly for medicine. It is
seated at the bottom of a bay of the same name. E.
Long. 14. 53. N. Lat. 40. 35.
SALET, in IVar, a light covering or armour for
the head, anciently worn by the light-horse, only dif¬
ferent from the casque in that it had no crest and was
little more than a bare cap.
SALIANT, in Fortification, denotes projecting.
There are two kinds of angles, the one saliant, which
have their points outwards ; the other, re-entering,
which have their points inwards.
Saliant, Salient, or Sa'illant, in Heraldry,
is applied to a lion, or other beast, when its fore-legs
are raised in a leaping posture.
SALIC, or Salique, Law, [Lex Salica), an an¬
cient and fundamental law of the kingdom of prance,
usually supposed to have been made by Pharamond,
or at least by Clovis ; in virtue of which males only
are to inherit.
Some,
3 M 2
SAL [ 460 ] SAL
®a*,c Some, as Postellus, would have It to have been call-
Sallno ec^ Gallic, because peculiar to the Gauls.
Fer. Montanus Insists, it was because Pharamond was
at first called Salicus. Others will have it to be so
named, as having been made for the salic lands. These
were noble fiefs which their first kings used to bestow
on the sallians, that is, the great lords of their salle or
court, without any other tenure than military service;
and for this reason, such fiefs -were not to descend to
women, as being by nature unfit for such a tenure.
Some, again, derive the origin of this word from the
Salians, a tribe of Franks that settled in Gaul in the
reign of Julian, who is said to have given them lands
on condition of their personal service in war. He
even passed the conditions into a law, which the new
conquerors acquiesced in, and called it salic, from the
name of their former countrymen.
SALICORNIA, Jointed Glass-wort, or Snlt-
ivort; a genus of plants belonging to the monandria
class, and in the natural method ranking under the
22th order, Holoracecc. See Botany Index.
The inhabitants near the sea-coasts where these
plants grow, cut them up toward the latter end of
summer, when the^' are fully grown ; and, after having
dried them in the sun, they burn them for their ashes,
which are used in making glass and soap. These
herbs are by the country people called kelp, and pro¬
miscuously gathered for use.
SALH, in Roman antiquity, priests of Mars, where¬
of there were 12, instituted by Numa, wearing painted,
particoloured garments, and high bonnets; with a steel
cuirasse on the breast. They were called salii, from
sallare, “ to dance;” because, after assisting at sacri¬
fices, they went dancing about the streets, with buck¬
lers in their left hand, and a rod in their right, strik¬
ing musically with their rods on one another’s buck¬
lers, and singing hymns in honour of the gods.
SALINO, one of the Lipari islands, situated be¬
tween Sicily and Italy, consists of two mountains, both
in an high state of cultivation. The one lying more
towards the north than the other is rather the highest
of the two, and is called del Capo, “ the head. ” The
other is called della Fossa felice, or the “ happy valley. ”
One third of the extent of these hills from the bottom
to the summit is one continued orchard, consisting of
vines, olive, fig, plum, apricot, and a vast diversity of
other trees. The white roofs of tire houses, which are
everywhere interspersed, amid this diversity of verdure
and foliage, .contribute to variegate the prospect in a
very agreeable manner.. The back part of almost all
the houses is shaded by an arbour of vines, supported by
pillars of brick, with cross poles to sustain the branches
and foliage of the vines. Those arbours shelter the
houses from the rays of the sun, the heat of which is
quite scorching in these southern regions. The vines
are extremely fruitful; the poles bending under the
weight of the grapes.
The scenes in this island are more interesting to the
lover of natural history than to the antiquarian. See
Reticulum.
On the south side of the island, however, there are
still to be seen some fine ruins of an ancient bath, a Ro¬
man work. They consist of a wall 10 or 11 fathoms
in extent, and terminating in an arch of no great height,
of which only a small part now remains. The build- Sal’no
ing seems to have been reduced to its present state ra- !i
ther by the ravages of men than the injuries of time., a lb)UI?'
Almost all the houses in the island are built of materials ' 'r~'
which have belonged to ancient monuments. The an¬
cients had, in all probability, baths of fresh as well as
of salt water in this island; for whenever the present
inhabitants have occasion for a spring of fresh water,
they have only to dig a pit on the shore, and pure sweet
water flows in great abundance.
There were formerly mines of alum here, from which
the inhabitants drew a very considerable yearly reve¬
nue. But whether they are exhausted, or whatever
circumstance may have caused them to be given up,
they are now no longer known. The island abounds
in a variety of fruits.
On the east side it is very populous. There are two
places which are both called Lingua, “ the tongue, ~
and which contain a good number of inhabitants; the
one is near Salino, the other is distinguished by the
name of St Marina : there are, besides these, two
other villages. All these places together may contain
about 4000 inhabitants: the circumference of the isl¬
and may be about 14 miles.
SALISBURY, the capital of the county of Wilt¬
shire in England, situated in W. Long. 1. 55. N. Lat.
51. 3. This city owed its first rise to its cathedral^,
which was begun in 1219, and finished in 1258. Ac¬
cording to an estimate delivered in to Henry III., it cost
forty thousand merks. It is a Gothic building, and is
certainly the most elegant and regular in the kingdom.
The doors and chapels are equal in number to the
months, the windows to the days, and the pillars and
pilasters to the hours in a year. It is built in the form
of a lantern, with a spire in the middle, and nothing
but buttresses and glass window's on the outside. The
spire is the highest in the kingdom, being 410 feet,
which is twice the height of the Monument in London..
The pillars and pilasters in the church are of fusile mar¬
ble ; the art of making which is now either entirely lost
or little knowm. This magnificent church lias lately
undergone most beautiful alterations; with an addition,
of two fine windows, and an organ presented by the-
king. The roof of the chapter house, w hich is 50 feet in
diameter and 150 in circumference, bears entirely upon,
one slender pillar, which is such a curiosity as can hard¬
ly be matched in Europe. The turning of the w'estem
road through the city in the reign of Edward III. was
a great advantage to it.. The chancellorship of the
most noble order of the Garter, which is annexed tc*
this see* wras first conferred on Bishop Richard Beau¬
champ. The hospital of St Michael’s, near this city,
was founded by one of its bishops. Dr Seth Ward,
bishop of this see in the reign of Charles II., contributed
greatly to the making the river Avon navigable to
Christ-church in Hampshire. The same prelate, in 1683,
built an hospital for the entertainment of the widows
of poor clergymen.. There are three other churches be¬
sides the cathedral, which is without the liberty of the
city, and a greater number of boarding schools, espe¬
cially for young ladies, than in any other town in Eng¬
land. Here is a manufacture of druggets, flannels,,
bonelace, and those cloths called Salisbury whites; iu.
consideration of which, and its fairs, markets, assizes,
hoarding-
SAL
>ury. boarjing-scliools, and clergy, the city may be justly
said to be in a flourishing condition. It was incor-
IX' , porated by Henry III.; and is governed by a mayor,
high-steward, recorder, deputy-recorder, ^4 aldermen,
and SO assistants or common-council men. The num¬
ber of souls, in 1811, wras 8243. A new council
chamber, with proper courts of justice, was built here
in the year 1794 by the earl of Radnor; to which Mr
Hussey was also a great benefactor. That quarter
called the C/osc, where the canons and prebendaries
live, is like a fine city of itself. In this town are se¬
veral charity-schools; the expense of one of them is
entirely defrayed by the bishop. The city gives title
of earl to the noble family of "Cecil.
S.iLisBunr Plain. The extensive downs in Wilt¬
shire, which are thus denominated, form in summer one
of the most delightful parts of Great Britain for extent
and beauty. It extends 28 miles west of Weymouth,
and 25 east to Winchester; and in some places is near
40 miles in breadth. That part about Salisbury is a
chalky down, and is famous for feeding numerous flocks
of sheep. Considerable portions of this tract are now
enclosing, the advantages of which are so great, that
it is hoped the whole will undergo so beneficial a
change. This plain contains, beside the famous Stone¬
henge, numerous other remains of antiquity.
SALIVA, is that fluid by which the mouth and
tongue are continually moistened in their natural state;
and is supplied by glands which form it, that are called
salivary glands. This humour is thin and pellucid, in¬
capable of being concreted by the fire, almost without
taste and smell. By chewing, it is expressed from the
glands which separate it from the blood, and is inti¬
mately mixed with our food, the digestion of which it
greatly promotes. In hungry persons it is acrid, and
copiously discharged; and in those who have fasted
long it is highly acrid, penetrating, and resolvent. A
too copious evacuation of it produces thirst, loss of
appetite, bad digestion, and an atrophy.
SALIVATION, in Medicine, a promoting of the'
flux of saliva, by means of medicines, mostly by mer¬
cury. The chief use of salivation is in diseases be¬
longing to the glands and membrana adiposa, and
principally in the cure of the venereal disease; though
it is sometimes also used in epidemic diseases, cutane¬
ous diseases, &c. whose crises tend that way.
SALIX, the Willow, a genus of plants belonging
to the dioecia class; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 50th order, Amentacece. See Botany
Index.
Willow trees have been frequently the theme of po¬
etical description, both in ancient and modern times.
In Virgil, Horace, and in Ovid, we have many exquisite
allusions to them and their several properties ; and for a
melancholy lover or a contemplative poet, imagination
cannot paint a fitter retreat than the banks of a beau¬
tiful river, and the shade of a drooping willow. The
Babylonica, Babylonian pendulous salix, commonly
called weeping ivilloiv, grows to a large size, having nu¬
merous, long, slender, pendulous branches, hanging
down loosely all round in a curious manner, and long,
narrow, spear-shaped, serrated, smooth leaves. This
curious willow is a native of the east, and is retained in
our hardy plantations for ornament; and exhibits a most
agreeable variety, particularly when disposed singly by
I
SAL
the verges of any piece of water, or in spacious open*
ings of grass ground. Sallo.
All the species of salix are of the tree kind, very . — ^ «
hardy, remarkably fast growers, and several of them
attaining a considerable stature when permitted to run
up to standards. They are mostly of the aquatic tribe,
being generally the most abundant and of most prospe¬
rous growth in watery situations: they however will
grow freely almost anywhere, in any common soil and
exposure; but growr considerably the fastest and strong¬
est in low moist land, particularly in marshy situations,
by the verges of rivers, brooks, and other waters;
likewise along the sides of watery ditches, &c.; which,
places often lying waste, may be employed to good ad¬
vantage, in plantations of willows, for different pur¬
poses.
SALLEE, an ancient and considerable town of
Africa in the kingdom of Fez, with a harbour and se¬
veral forts. The harbour of Sallee is one of the best
in the country ; and yet, on account of a bar that lies
across it, ships of the smallest draught are forced to un¬
load and take out their guns before they can get into it-
There are docks to build ships; but they are hardly
ever used, for want of skill and materials. It is a large
place, divided by the river Guero into the Old and
New Towns. It has long been famous for its rovers or
pirates, which make prizes of all Christian ships that
come in their way, except there is a treaty to the con¬
trary. The town of Sallee in its present state, though
large, presents nothing worthy the observation of the
traveller, except a battery of 24 pieces of cannon front¬
ing the sea, and a redoubt at the entrance of the river,
which is about a quarter of a mile broad, and pene¬
trates several miles into the interior country.. W-
Long. 6. 30. N. Lat. 34. 0.
SALLET, or Salad, a dish of eatable herbs, or¬
dinarily accompanying roast meat; composed chiefly
of crude fresh herbage, seasoned with salt, oil, and
vinegar.
Menage derives the word from the Latin salata; of
sal, “salt;” others from salcedo ; Du-Cange from sal-
gama, which is used in Ausonius and Columella in the
same sense.
Some add mustard, hard eggs, and sugar; others*
pepper, and other spices, with orange-peel, saffron,,
&c.
The principal sallet-herbo, and those which ordina¬
rily make the basis of our English sallets, are lettuce,
celery, endive, cresses, radish, and rape; along with
which, by way of furniture, or additionals, are used
purslane, spinach, sorrel, tarragon, bumet, eorn-sallet,
and chervil.
The gardeners call some plants small herbs in sallets ^
these should always be cut while in the seed-leaf: as
cresses, mustard, radish, turnip, spinach, and lettuce;.
all which are raised from seeds sown in drills, or lines,,
from the middle of February to the end of March, un¬
der glasses or frames; and thence to the middle of May,
upon natural beds, warmly exposed; and during the
summer heats in more shady places; and afterwards irr
September, as in March, &c-; and lastly, in the rigour
of the winter, in hot-beds. If they chance to be frozen,
in very frosty weather, putting them in spring-water
two hours before they are used, recovers them.
SALLO,, Denis de, a French writer, famous for
being
[ 461 ].
S A L [ 462 ] SAL
Sallo. being the projector of literary journals, was born at
Sal!ustius ^ar*s *n 1626. He studied the law, and was admitted
. ‘ a counsellor in the parliament of Paris in 1652. It
was in 1661 he schemed the plan of the Journal des
■rigavans ; and the year following began to publish it
under the name of Sieur de Heronville, which was that
of his valet de chambre. But he played the critic so
severely, that authors, surprised at the novelty of such
attacks, retorted so powerfully, that M. de Sallo, un¬
able to weather the storm, after he had published his
third Journal, declined the undertaking, and turned it
over to the abbe Gallois; who, without presuming to
criticise, contented himself merely with giving titles,
and making extracts. Such was the origin of literary
journals, which afterwards sprang up in other countries
under different titles; and the success of them, under
judicious management, is a clear proof of their utility.
M. de Sallo died in 1669.
SALLUSTIUS, Caius Crispus, a celebrated Ro¬
man historian, was born at Amitertium, a city of Italy,
in the year of Rome 669, and before Christ 85. His
education was liberal, and he made the best use of it.
His Roman history in six books, from the death of
Sylla to the conspiracy of Catiline, the great work from
which he chiefly derived his glory among the ancients,
-is unfortunately lost excepting a few fragments ; but
his two detached pieces of history which happily re¬
main entire are sufficient to justify the great enco¬
miums he has received as a writer He has* had the
singular honour to be twice translated by a royal
hand: first by our Elizabeth, according to Camden;
and secondly, by the present Infant of Spain, whose
version of this elegant historian, lately printed in fo¬
lio, is one of the most beautiful books that any coun¬
try has produced since the invention of printing. No
man has inveighed more sharply against the vices of
his age than this historian ; yet no man had fewer
pretensions to virtue. His youth was spent in a
most lewd and profligate manner; and his patrimony
almost squandered away when he had scarcely taken
possession qf it. Marcus Varro, a writer of undoubted
credit, relates, in a fragment preserved by Aulus Gel-
lius, that Sallust was actually caught in bed with Fau-
sta the daughter of Sylla, by Milo her husband ; who
scourged him very severely, and did not suffer him to
depart till he had redeemed his liberty with a consider¬
able sum. A. U. C. 694*, he was made questor, and
in 702 tribune of the people ; in neither of which places
is he allowed to have acquitted himself at all to his ho¬
nour. By virtue of his questorship, he obtained an ad¬
mission into the senate; but was expelled thence by the
censors in 701, en account of his immoral and debauch¬
ed way of life. In the year 705 Caesar restored him to
the dignity of a senator ; and to introduce him into the
house with a better grace, made him questor a second
time. In the administration of this office he behaved
himself very scandalously.: exposed every thing to sale
for which he could find a purchaser; and if we may be¬
lieve the author of the invective, thought nothing wrong
which he had a mind to do : Nihil non venale hub)writ,
cujus aliquis emptorfuit, nihil non cequum et verum duxit,
quod ipsi facere collibuisset. In the year 707, when the
African war was at an end, he was made praetor for
his services to Caesar, and sent to Numidia. Here he
jftcted the same part as Verres had done in Sicily ; out¬
rageously plundered the province ; and returned with Sallustius.
such immense riches to Rome that he purchased a II
most magnificent building upon Mount Quirinal, with Salon'
those gardens which to this day retain the name of ' v '
Sallustian gardens, besides his country house at Tivoli.
How he spent the remaining part of his life we have no
account from ancient writers. Eusebius tells us that
he married Terentia, the divorced wife of Cicero ; and
that he died at the age of 50, in the year 710, which
was about four years before the battle of Actium. Of
the many things which he wrote, besides his histories
of the Catilinarian and Jugurthine wars, we have some
orations or speeches, printed with his fragments.
SALLY ports, in fortification, or Postern Gates,
as they are sometimes called, are those under-ground
passages which lead from the inner works to the out¬
ward ones ; such as from the higher flank to the lower,
or to the tenailles, or the communication from the
middle of the curtain to the ravelin. When they are
made for men to go through only, they are made with
steps at the entrance and going out. They are about
6 feet wide and 8 J feet high. There is also a gutter or
shore made under the sally-ports, which are in the mid¬
dle of the curtains, for the water which runs down the
streets to pass into the ditch ; but this can only be done
when they are ivet ditches. When sally-ports serve to
carry guns through them for the out-works, instead of
making them with steps, they must have a gradual slope,
and be 8 feet wide.
SALMASIUS, Claudius, a French writer of un¬
common abilities and immense erudition, descended
from an ancient and noble family, and born at or near
Semur in 1596. His mother, who was a Protestant,
infused her notions of religion into him, and he at
length converted his father : he settled at Leyden ; and
in 1650 paid.a visit to Christina queen of Sweden, who
is reported to have shown him extraordinary marks of
regard. Upon the violent death of Charles I. of Eng¬
land, he was prevailed on by the royal family, then in
-exile, to write a defence of that king ; which was an¬
swered by our famous Milton in 1651, in a work in-
titled-Dc/cnsfo pro Popido Anglicano contra Claudii Sal-
masii Defensionem Regiam. This book was read over
all Europe ; and conveyed such a proof of the writer’s
abilities, that he was respected even by those who hated
his principles. Salmasius died in 1653 ; and some did
not scruple to say, that Milton killed him by the acute¬
ness of his reply. His works are numerous, and of va¬
rious kinds ; but the greatest monuments of his learn¬
ing are, his Notce in Histories Augustes Scriptores, and
his Exercitationes Plinianee in Solinum.
SALMO, the Salmon ; a genus of fishes belonging
to the order of abdominales. See Ichthyology In¬
dex.
SALMON. See Salmo, Ichthyology Index.
SALMON-Fishery. See Salmon-FisHERr.
SALON, or Saloon, in architecture, a lofty, spa-
.cious sort of hall, vaulted at top, and usually compre¬
hending two stories, with two ranges of windows.
The saloon is a grand room in the middle of a
building, or at the head of a gallery, Sec. Its faces,
or sides, are all to have a symmetry with each other;
and as it usually, takes up the height of two stories, its
ceiling, Daviler observes, should be with a moderate
sweep.
SAL [ 463 ] S A
on ' The saloon is a state room much used in the palaces was called the Granary of Goa.
in Italy ; and from thence the mode came to us. Am-
ttg‘, bassadors, and other gx-eat visitors, are usually received
■” in the saloon.
L
Jo) 's
Tn ’s in
Da ’tia.
It is sometimes built square, sometimes round or
oval, sometimes octagonal, as at Marly, and sometimes
in other forms.
SALON A, a sea-port town of Dalmatia, seated on
a bay of the gulf of Venice. It was formerly a very
considerable place, and its ruins show that it was 10
miles in circumference. It is 18 miles north of Spa-
latto, and subject to Venice. It is now a wretched
village, preserving few distinguishable remains of its
ancient splendour. Doubtless the two last ages have
destroyed all that had escaped the barbarity of the
northern nations that demolished it. In a valuable
MS. relation of Dalmatia, written by the senator Giam¬
battista Guistiniani, about the middle of the 16th cen¬
tury, there is a hint of what existed at the time. “ The
nobility, grandeur, and magnificence of the city of Sa-
lona, may be imagined from the vaults and arches of
the wonderful theatre, which are seen at this day; from
the vast stones of the finest marble, which lie scattered
on, and buried in the fields; from the beautiful column
of three pieces of mai'ble, which is still standing in the
place where they say the arsenal was, towards the sea¬
shore ; and from the many arches of surprising beauty,
supported by very high marble columns : the height of
the arches is a stone-throw, and above them there was
an aqueduct, which reached from Salona to Spalatro.
There ai'e to be seen many ruins and vestiges of lai’ge
palaces, and many ancient epitaphs may be read on fine
marble stones; but the earth, which is increased, has
buried the most ancient stones, and the most valuable
things. ’’ E. Long. 17. 29. N. Lat. 24. 10.
SALONICHI, formerly called Thessalonica, a sea¬
port town of Turkey in Europe, and capital of Ma¬
cedonia, with an archbishop’s see. It is ancient,- large,
populous, and rich, being about 10 miles in circumfe¬
rence. It is a place of great trade, carried on princi¬
pally by the Greek Christians and Jews, the former of
which have 30 churches, and the latter as many syna¬
gogues ; the Turks also have a few mosques. It is sur¬
rounded with walls flanked with towers, and defended
on the land-side by a citadel, and near the harbour with
three forts. It was taken from the Venetians by the
Tux-ks in 1431. The pidncipal merchandise is silk.
It is seated at the bottom of a gulf of the same name,
partly on the top, and partly on the side of a hill,
near the river Vardar. E. long. 23. 13. N. LaE
40. 41.
SALSES, a very strong castle of France, in Rous¬
sillon, on the confines of Languedoc. It was taken
from the Spaniards by the French in 1642; and is
seated on a lake of the same name, among mountains,
10 miles north of Perpignan. E. Long. 3. 0. N. Lat.
43. 35.
SALSETTE, an island of the East Indies, adjacent
to Bombay, from which it is in one place divided only
by a narrow pass fordable at low water. It is about
26 miles long, and eight or nine broad. The soil is
rich, and by a proper cultivation capable of producing
any thing that will grow in tropical climates. It is
everywhere well watered, and when in the possession of
the Portuguese furnished such quantities of rice, that it
It abounds also in all
kinds of provisions, and has great plenty of game, both
of the four-footed and feathered kind. It has pretty _
high mountains ; and there is a tradition that the whole "
was thrown up from the bottom of the sea: in confii’-
mation of which it is said, that on the top of the high¬
est hill there was found, some years ago, a stone anchor,
such as was anciently used by tbe inhabitants of that
country. Here we meet with the ruins of a place call¬
ed Cannm, where there are excavations of rocks, sup¬
posed to be contemporary with those of Elepiianta.
They are much more numerous, but not comparable to
the former either in extent or workmanship.
The island of Salsette lately formed part of tbe Por¬
tuguese dominions in India. It ought to have been
ceded to the English along with Bombay, as part of
the dower of Catharine of Lisbon, espoused to Charles
II. The fulfilment of this article, however, being evad¬
ed, the island remained in possession of the Portuguese;
and notwithstanding the little care they took of it, the
revenue of it was valued at 60,000/. Such was the ne¬
gligence of the Portuguese government, that they took
no care to fortify it against the attacks of the Mali rat taa,
from whose dominions Salsette was only separated by
a very narrow pass fordable at low water. Here they
had only a miserable redoubt of no consequence, till,
on the appearance of an approaching war with the Mah-
rattas, they began to build another, which indeed would
have answered the purpose of protecting the island, pro¬
vided the Mahrattas had allowed them to finish it. This,
however, was not their intention. They allorved them
indeed to go on quietly with their works till they saw
them almost completed, when they came and took pos¬
session of them. The Mahrattas thus became dangerous
neighboui-s to the English at Bombay, until it was ce¬
ded to the latter by the treaty concluded with these peo¬
ple in 1780. E. Long. 72. 15. N. Lat. 19. 0.
SALSOLA, Glass-wokt, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the pentandria class ; and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 12th order, Holoracece. See
Botany Index.
All the sorts of glass-wort are sometimes promiscu¬
ously used for making the sal kali, but it is the third
sort which is esteemed best for this purpose. The man¬
ner of making it is as follows: Having dug a trench
near the sea, they place laths across it, on which they
lay the herb in heaps, and, having made a fire below,
the liquor, which runs out of the herbs, drops to the
bottom, which at length thickening, becomes sal kali,
which is partly of a black, and partly of an ash-colour,
very sharp and coi'rosive, and of a saltish taste. This,
when thoroughly hardened, becomes like a stone ; and
in that state is ti’ansported to different countries, for
making of glass.
SALT, one of the great divisions of natural bodies.
The characteristic marks of salt have usually been rec¬
koned its power of affecting the oi'gans of taste, and of
being soluble in water. But this will not distinguish salt
from quicklime, which also affects the sense of taste, and
dissolves in water; yet quicklime has been universally
reckoned an earth, and not a salt. The only distin¬
guishing property of salts, therefore, is their crystalli¬
zation in water : but this does not belong to all salts ;
for the nitrous and marine acids, though allowed on all
hands to be salts, are yet incapable of crystallization, at
least
Sahett<?
Salt.
SAL [ 464 ] SAL
least by any method hitherto known. Several of the
' imperfect neutral salts also, such as combinations of the
nitrous, muriatic, and vegetable acids, with some kinds
of earths, crystallize with very great difficulty. How¬
ever, by the addition of spirit of wine, or some other
substances which absorb part of the water, keeping the
liquor in a warm place, &c. all of them may be redu¬
ced to crystals of one kind or other. Salt, therefore,
may be defined a substance affecting the organs of taste,
soluble in water, and capable of crystallization, either
by itself or in conjunction with some other body; and,
universally, every salt capable of being reduced into a
solid form, is also capable of crystallization per se.
Thus the class of saline bodies will be sufficiently dis¬
tinguished from all others; for quicklime, though so¬
luble in water, cannot be crystallized without addition
either of fixed air or some other acid; yet it is most
commonly found in a solid state. The precious stones,
basaltes, &rc. though supposed to be formed by crys¬
tallization, are nevertheless distinguished from salts
by their insipidity and insolubility in water.
But acids and alkalies, and combinations of both,
when in a concrete form, are salts, and of the purest
form. Hence wre conclude, that the bodies, to which
the name of salts more properly belongs, are the concre¬
tions of those substances; which are accordingly called
acid salts, alkaline salts, and neutral salts. These last
are combinations of acid and alkaline salts, in such pro¬
portion as to render the compounds neither sour nor al¬
kaline to the taste. This proportionate combination is
called saturation: thus common kitchen salt is a neutral
salt, composed of muriatic acid and soda combined to¬
gether to the point of saturation. The appellation of
neutral salts is also extended to denote all those combi¬
nations of acids, and any other substance with which
they can unite, so as to lose, wholly or in great mea¬
sure, their acid properties.
But although this general definition of salts is com¬
monly received, yet there are many writers, especially
mineralogists, who confine the denomination of salts in
the manner we first mentioned, viz. to those substances
only which, besides the general properties of salts, have
the power of crystallizing, that is, of arranging their
particles so as to form regular shaped bodies, called
crystals, when the water superfluous to their concrete
existence has been evaporated.
Common Salt, or Sea Salt, the name of that salt
extracted from the waters of the ocean, w hich is used
in greater quantities for preserving provisions, Sec.
It is a perfect neutral salt, composed of marine or
muriatic acid, satiwated with mineral alkali. It has a
saline but agreeable flavour. It requires about four
times its weight of cold water to be dissolved, and
nearly the same quantity of boiling water, according to
Macquer. But according to Kirwan, it only requires
2.5 its weight of water to be dissolved in the tempera¬
ture of sixty degrees of Fahrenheit. This salt always
contains some part formed with a calcareous base; and,
in order to have it pure, it must be dissolved in distilled
water; then a solution of mineral alkali is to be poured Salt
in it until no white precipitation appears; then by fil- tT-«J
trating and evaporating the solution, a pure common
salt is produced. Its figure is perfectly cubic, and
those hollow pyramids, of tremies as the French call
them, as well as the parallelepipeds formed sometimes
in its crystallization, consist all of a quantity of small
cubes, disposed in those forms. Its decrepitation on
the fire, which has been reckoned by some as a cha¬
racteristic of this salt, although the vitriolated tartar,
nitrous lead, and other salts, have the same property,
is owing chiefly to the w ater, and perhaps also to the
air of its cr)rstallization.
Its specific gravity is 2,120 according to Kirwan.
The acid of tartar precipitates nothing from it. One
hundred parts of common salt contain thirty-three of
real acid, fifty of mineral alkali, and seventeen of water.
It is commonly found in salt wrater, and salt springs, in
the proportion of even thirty-six per cent. It is found
also in coals, and in beds of gypsum. This salt is un¬
alterable by fire, though it fuses, and becomes more
opaque : nevertheless a violent fire, with the free access
of air, causes it to evaporate in white flowers, which
adhere to the neighbouring bodies. It is only decom¬
posed, as Macquer affirms, by the sulphuric and nitric
acids; and also by the boracic or sedative salt. But
although nitre is decomposed very easily by arsenic,
this neutral marine salt is nowise decomposed by the
same. According to Monge, the fixed vegetable alka¬
li, when caustic, decomposes all this marine salt. It
preserves from corruption almost all sorts of animal
food much better for use than any other salt, as it
preserves them without destroying their taste and qua¬
lities ; but when applied in too small a quantity, it
then promotes putrefaction.
Of this most useful commodity there are ample stores
on landas well as in the ocean. There are few countries
which do not afford vast quantities of rock or fossil salt.
Mines (a) of it have long been discovered and wrought
in England, Spain, Italy, Germany, Hungary, Poland,
and other countries of Europe. In several parts of
the world, there are huge mountains which wholly
consist of fossil salt. Of this kind are twro mountains
in Russia, nigh Astracan; several in the kingdoms of
Tunis and Algiers, in Africa, and several also in Asia;
and the whole island of Grains in the Persian gulf al¬
most entirely consists of fossil salt. The new world is
likewise stored writb treasures of this useful mineral, as
w'ell as with all other kinds of subterranean productions.
Moreover, the sea affords sjich vast plenty of common
salt, that all mankind might thence be supplied with
quantities sufficient for their occasions. There are also
innumerable springs, ponds, lakes, and rivers, impreg¬
nated with common salt, from which the inhabitants
of many countries are plentifully supplied therewith.
In some countries which are remote from the sea, and
have little commerce, and which are not blessed with
mines of salt or salt-waters, the necessities of the inha¬
bitants haye forced them to invent a method of extrac¬
ting
(a) Amongst the salt mines of chief note are those of Northwich in Cheshire, Altemonte in Calabria, Halle
in Tyrol, Cardona in Catalonia : also those stupendous mines at Wilieczka in Poland, to be noticed in the sequel
of this article, and Soowar in Upper Hungary; of which see accounts in PhiL Trans. N° 61. and 4*13,
s A I, l m 1 SAL
ting their common salt from the ashes of vegetables.
y——1 The muriatic salt of vegetables was described by Dr
Grew under the title of lixiviated marine salt. Leeu¬
wenhoek obtained cubical crystals of this salt from a
lixivium of soda or kelp, and also from a solution of
the lixivial salt of carduus benedictus ; of which he
hath given figures in a letter to the Royal Society, pub¬
lished in N° 175. of their Transactions. Dr Dagner,
in Act. Acad. N. C. vol. v. obs. 150, takes notice of
great quantities of it which he found mixed in pot¬
ashes. And the ingenious Dr Fothergill extracted
plenty of it from the ashes of fern : See Medical Es¬
says, vol. v. article 13.
The muriatic salt which the excellent Mr Boyle ex¬
tracted from sandiver, and supposed to be produced
from the materials used in making glass, was doubtless
separated from the kelp made use of in that process.
Kunckel also informs us, that he took an alkaline salt;
and after calcining it with a moderate fire, dissolved
it in pure water, and placing the solution in a cool
cellai;, obtained from it many crystals of a neutral salt.
He supposes that the alkaline salt was by the process
converted into this neutral salt. But it is more reason¬
able to believe, that the alkaline salt which he applied
was not pure, but mixed with the muriatic salt of ve¬
getables, which by this process was only separated
from it.
It is doubtless chiefly this muriatic salt which, in
some of the inland parts of Asia, they extract from
the ashes of duck-weed and of Adam’s fig-tree, and
use for their common salt.
That they are able in those countries to make com¬
mon salt to profit from vegetables,ought not to be won¬
dered at, since in Delhi and Agra, capitals of Indostan,
salt is so scarce as usually to be sold for half-a-crown a
pound. We may therefore give some credit to Marco
Polo, when he informs us, that in the inner parts of the
same quarter of the world, in the province of Caindu,
lying west of Tibet, the natives used salt instead of
money, it being first made up in cakes, and sealed with
the stamp of their prince; and that they made great
profit of this money by exchanging it with the neigh¬
bouring nations for gold and musk. We are also told
by Ludolfus, in his Historia JEthiopica, that in the
country of the Abyssines there are mountains of salt, the
which when dug out is soft, but soon grow’s hard ; and
that this salt serves them instead of money to buy all
things. The same is confirmed by Ramusio.
Mr Boyle discovered common salt in human blood
and urine. “ I have observed it (says Mr Brownrigg),
not only in human urine, but also in that of dogs, horses,
and black cattle. It may easily be discovered in these,
and many other liquids impregnated with it, by certain
very regular and beautiful starry figures which appear
in their surfaces after congelation. These figures I
first observed in the great frost in the year 1739. The
dung of such animals as feed upon grass or grain, doth
also contain plenty of common salt. ”
Naturalists, observing the great variety of forms un¬
der which this salt appears, have thought fit to rank
the several kinds of it under certain general classes; di¬
stinguishing it, most usually, into rock or fossil salt,
sea-salt, and brine or fountain salt. To which classes,
others might be added, of those muriatic salts which are
found in vegetable and animal substances. These se-
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
veral kinds of common salt often differ from each other
in their outward form and appearance, or in such ac- ' v—
cidental properties as they derive from the heterogene¬
ous substances with which they are mixed. But when
perfectly pure, they have ali the same qualities; so that
chemists, by the exactest inquiries, have not been able
to discover any essential difference between them ; for
which reason we shall distinguish common salt after a
different manner, into the three following kinds, viz.
into rock or native salt, bay salt, and white salt.
By rock salt, or native salty is understood all salt dug
out of the earth, which hath not undergone any arti¬
ficial preparation. Under the title of bay salt may be
ranked all kinds of common salt extracted from the
water wherein it is dissolved, by means of the sun’s
heat, and the operation of the air ; whether the water
from which it is extracted be sea water, or natural
brine drawn from wrells and springs, or saltwater stag¬
nating in ponds and lakes. Under the title of tvhite
salt, or boiled salt, may be included all kinds of com¬
mon salt extracted by coction from the water wherein
it is dissolved ; whether this water be sea water, or the
salt water of wells, fountains, lakes or rivers ; or water
of any sort impregnated with rock-salt, or other kinds
of common salt.
The first of these kinds of salt is in several countries
found so pure, that it serves for most domestic uses,
without any previous preparation (triture excepted);
for of all natural salts rock-salt is the most abundantly
furnished by nature in various parts of the world, being
found in large masses, occupying great tracts of land.
It is generally found in strata under the surface of the
earth, as in Hungary, Muscovy, Siberia, Poland, Cala¬
bria, Egypt, Ethiopia, and the East Indies. “ In
England (says Magellan), the salt mines at Northwich
are in a high ground, and contain it in layers or strata
of various colours, of which the yellow and brown
are the most plentiful, as I have observed on the spot,
which I visited in June 1782, in company with my
worthy and learned friend Mr Volta, professor of na¬
tural philosophy in the university of Pavia, and well
known by his great abilities, and many discoveries in
that branch of knowledge. The mine into which we
descended was excavated in the form of a vast dome
or vault under ground, supported by various columns of
the salt, that were purposely left to support the incum¬
bent weight. And the workmen having lighted a num¬
ber of candles all round its circumference, it furnished us
with the most agreeable and surprising sight, whilst we
were descending in the large tub, which serves to bring
up the lumps that are broken from the mine, ” &c.
Wraxall gives the following description of the famous
salt mines near Cracow in Poland.
“ After being let down (says he) by a rope to the Memoirs
depth of 230 feet, our conductors led us through galle-^ ^
ries, which, for loftiness and breadth, seemed rather to^L}
resemble the avenues to some subterraneous palace, than Dresden,
passages cut ina mine. They were perfectly dry in every Warsaw,
part, and terminated in two chapels composed entirely Vienna.
of salt, hewn out of the solid mass. The images which
adorn the altars, as well as the pillars and ornaments,
were all of the same transparent materials; the points
and spars of which reflecting the rays of light from the
lamps which the guides held in their hands, produced
an effect equally novel and beautiful. Descending low-
f 3 N er
S A L
[ 486 ]
SAL
Salt.
Jiron-nrigg
on lhe Art
of Prepar¬
ing Salt,
er Into the earth by means of ladders, I found myself
in an immense hall or cavern of salt, many hundred feet
in height, length, and dimensions, the floor and sides of
which were cut with exact regularity. A thousand
persons might dine in it without inconvenience, and the
eye in vain attempted to trace or define its limits. No¬
thing could be more sublime than this vast subterranean
apartment, illuminated by flambeaux, which faintly
discover its prodigious magnitude, and leave the ima¬
gination at liberty to enlarge it indefinitely. After
remaining about two hours and a half under ground,
I was drawn up again in three minutes with the great¬
est facility. ”
See also an account of the same mines by Mr Ber-
niard, Journal de Physique, vpl. xvi. for 1780, in which
the miraculous tales concerning those subterranean ha¬
bitations, villages, and towns, are reduced to their pro¬
per magnitude and estimate.
The English fossil salt is unfit for the uses of the kit-
chen, until by solution and coction it is freed from seve¬
ral impurities, and reduced into white salt. The British
white salt also is not so proper as several kinds of bay
salt for curing fish and such flesh-meats as are intended
for sea provisions, or for exportation into hot countries.
So that for these purposes we are obliged, either whol¬
ly or in part, to use bay salt, which we purchase in
Trance, Spain, and other foreign countries.
However, it does not appear that there is any other
thing requisite in the formation of bay salt than to
evaporate the sea water with an exceedingly gentle heat;
and it is even very probable, that our common sea-salt
by a second solution and crystallization might attain the
requisite degree of purity. Without entering into any
particular detail of the processes used for the prepara¬
tion of bay-salt in different parts of the world, we shall
content ourselves with giving a brief account of the
best methods of preparing common salt.
At some convenient place near the sea-shore is erect¬
ed the saltern. This is a long, low building, consist¬
ing of two parts ; one of which is called the fore-house,
and the other the pan-home, or boiling-house. The fore¬
house serves to receive the fuel, and cover the -work¬
men ; and in the boiling-house are placed the furnace,
and pan in which the salt is made. Sometimes they
have two pans, one at each end of the saltern ; and the
part appropriated for the fuel and workmen is in the
middle.
The furnace opens into the fore-house by two mouths,
beneath each of which is a mouth to the ash-pits. To
the mouths of the furnace, doors are fitted ; and over
them a wall is carried up to the roof, which divides the
fore-house from the boiling-house, and prevents the
dust of the coal and the ashes and smoke of the fur-.
nacc from falling into the salt pan. The fore-house
communicates with the boiling-house by a door placed
in the wall which divides them.
The body of the furnace consists of two chambers,
divided from each other by a brick partition called the
mid feather; which from a broad base terminates in a
narrow edge nigh the top of the furnace; and by means,
of short pillars of cast iron erected upon it, supports the
bottom of the salt pan ; it also fills up a considerable
part of the furnace, which otherwise would be too large,
and would consume more coals than, by the help oi this
contrivance, are required. To each chamber of the.
furnace is fitted a grate, through which the ashes fall
into the ash-pits. The grates are made of long bars ofu
iron, supported underneath by strong cross bars of the
same metal. They are not continued to the farthest
part of the furnace, it being unnecessary to throw in the
fuel so far : for the flame is driven from the lire on the
grate to the farthest part of the furnace ; and from
thence passes, together with the smoke, through two
flues into the chimney; and thus the bottom of the
salt pan is everywhere equally heated.
The salt pans are made of an cV'long form, flat at
the bottom, with the sides erected at right angles ; the
length of some of these pans is 15 feet, in breadth 12
feet, and the depth 16 inches; but at different works
they are of different dimensions. They are commonly
made of plates of iron, joined together with nails, and
the joints are filled with a strong cement. Within the
pan five or six strong beams of iron are fixed to its op¬
posite sides, at equal distances, parallel to each other
and to the bottom of the pan, from which they are di¬
stant about eight inches. From these beams hang down
strong iron hooks, which are linked to other books or
clasps of iron firmly nailed to the bottom of the pan ;
and thus the bottom of the pan is supported, and pre¬
vented from bending down or changing its figure. The
plates most commonly used are of malleable iron, about
four feet and a half long, a foot broad, and the third of
an inch in thickness. The Scots prefer smaller plates,
IT or 15 inches square. Several make the sides of the
pan, where they are not exposed to the fire, of lead ;
those parts, when made of iron, being found to consume
fast in rust from the steam of the pan. Some have used
plates of cast iron, five or six feet square, and an inch
in thickness; but they .are very subject to break when
unequally heated, and shaken (as they frequently are)
by the violent boiling of the liquor. The cement
most commonly used to fill the joints is plaster made
of lime.
The pan, thus formed, is placed over the furnace,
being supported at the four corners by brick work ;
but along the middle, and at the sides and ends, by¬
round pillars of cast iron called taplins, which are pla¬
ced at three feet distance from each other, being about
eight inches high, and at the top, where smallest, four
inches in diameter. By means of these pillars the heat
of the fire penetrates equally to all parts of the bottom
of the pan, its four corners only excepted. Care is also
taken to prevent the smoke of tlte furnace from passing/
into the boiling-house, by bricks and strong cement,
which are closely applied to every part of the salt pan.
In some places, as at Blyth in Northumberland, be¬
sides the common salt pans here described, they have
a preparing pan placed between two salt pans, in the
middle part of the building, which in other works is
the fore-house. The sea-water being received into this
preparing pan, is there heated and in part evaporated
by the flame and heat convened under it through flues
from the two furnaces of the salt pans. And the hot'
water, as occasion requires, is conveyed through troughs
from the preparing pan into the salt pans. Various-
other contrivances have been invented to lessen the ex¬
pense of fuel, and several patents have been obtained
for that purpose ; but the salt-boilers have found their,
old methods the most convenient.
Between the sides of the pan and walls of the boil-
Satt.
jalt. ing-house, there runs a walk five or six feet broad,
v—^ where the workmen stand when they draw the salt, or
have any other business in the boiling-house. The
same walk is continued at the end of the pan, next to
the chimney ; but the pan is placed close to the wall
at the end adjoining to the fore-house.
The roof of the boiling-house is covered with boards
fastened on with nails of wood, iron nails quickly
mouldering into rust. In the roof are several openings,
to convey off the watery vapours ; and on each side of
it a window or two, which the workmen open when
they look into the pan whilst it is boiling.
Not far distant from the saltern, on the sea-shore, be¬
tween full sea and low-water marks, they also make a
little pond in the rocks, or with stones on the sand,
which they call their sump. From this pond they lay
a pipe, through which, when the tide is in, the sea¬
water runs into a well adjoining to the saltern ; and
from this rvell they pump it into troughs, by which it
is conveyed into their ship or cistern, where it is stored
•up until they have occasion to use it.
The cistern is built close to the saltern, and may be
placed most conveniently between the two boiling-
houses, on the back side of the fore-house ; it is made
cither ef wood, or brick and clay ; it sometimes wants
a cover, but ought to be covered with a shed, that
the salt water contained therein may not be weakened
by rains, nor mixed with soot and other impurities.
It should be placed so high, that the water may con-
-veniently run out of it, through a trough, into the salt
pans.
Besides the buildings already mentioned, several
others are required ; as storehouses for the salt, cisterns
for the bittern, an office for his majesty’s salt officers,
and a dwelling-house for the salt-boilers.
All things being thus prepared, and the sea-water
having stood in the cistern till the mud and sand are
settled to the bottom, it is drawn off into the salt-pan.
And at the four corners of the salt-pan, where the
flame does not touch its bottom, are placed four small
lead pans, called scratch pans, which, for a salt pan of
the size above mentioned, are usually about a foot and
a half long, a foot broad, and three inches deep ; and
have a bow or circular handle of iron, by which they
may be drawn out with a hook, when the liquor in the
pan is boiling.
The salt pan being filled with sea-water, a strong fire
of pit-coal is lighted in the furnace ; and then, for a pan
which .contains about 400 gallons, the salt-boiler takes
the whites of three eggs, and incorporates therm well
with two or three gallons of sea-water, which he pours
into the salt pan while the water contained therein is
only lukewarm ; and immediately stirs it about with a
rake, that the whites of eggs may everywhere be
equally mixed with the salt water.
Instead of whites of eggs, at many salterns, as at most
of those nigh Newcastle, they use blood from the butch¬
ers, either of sheep or black cattle, to clarify the sea¬
water/: And at many of the Scots salterns they do not
give themselves the trouble of clarifying it.
As the water grows hot, the whites of eggs separate
from it a black frothy scum, which rises to the surface
of the water, and covers it all over. As soon as the
pan begins to boil, this scum is all risen, and it is then
time to skim it off.
The most convenient instruments for this purpose are
skimmers of thin ash boards, six or eight inches broad,
and so long that they may reach above half way over
the salt pan. These skimmers have handles fitted to
them ; and the salt-boiler and his assistant, each hold¬
ing one of them on the opposite sides of the pan, ap¬
ply them so to each other that they overlap in the
middle, and beginning at one end of the pan, carry
them gently forward together, along the surface of
the boiling liquor, to the other end ; and thus, with¬
out breaking the scum, collect it all to one end of the
pan, from whence they easily take it out.
After the water is skimmed, it appears perfectly clear
and transparent; and they continue boiling it briskly,
till so much of the fresh or aqueous part is evaporated,
that what remains in the pan is a strong brine almost
fully saturated with salt, so that small saline crystals
begin to form on its surface; which operation, in a pan
filled 15 inches deep with water, is usually performed
in five hours.
The pan is then filled up a second time with clear
sea-water drawn from the cistern ; and about the time
when it is half filled, the scratch-pans are taken out,
and being emptied of the scratch found in them, are
again placed in the corners of the salt pan. The scratch
taken out of these pans is a fine white calcareous earth
found in the form of powder, which separates from the
sea-water during its coetion, before the salt begins to
form into grains. Tins subtile powder is violently
agitated by the boiling liquor, until it is driven to the
corners of the pan, where the motion of the liquor
being more gentle, it subsides into the scratch-pans
placed there to receive it, and in them it remains un¬
disturbed, and thus the greatest part of it is separated
from the brine.
After the pan hath again been filled up with sea¬
water, three whites of eggs are mixed with the liquor,
by which it is clarified a second time, in the manner
before described; and it is-afterwards boiled down to
a strong brine as at first; which second boiling may
take up about four hours.
The pan is then filled up a third time with clear sea¬
water ; and after that, a fourth time ; the liquor being
each time clarified and boiled down to a strong brine,
as before related ; and the scratch-pans being taken
out and emptied every time that the pan is filled up.
Then, at the fourth boiling, as soon as the crystals
begin to form on the surface of the brine, then slacken
the fire, and only suffer the brine to simmer, or boil
very gently. In this heat they constantly endeavour
to keep it all the time that the salt corns or granulates,
which may be nine or ten hours. The salt is said to
granulate, when its minute crystals cohere together
into little masses or grains, which sink down in the
brine, and lie at the bottom of the salt pan.
When most of the liquor is evaporated, and the salt
thus lies i a the pan almost dry on its surface, it is then
time to draw it out. This part of the process is per¬
formed by raking the salt to one side of the pan into
a long heap, where it drains a while from the brine,
and is then filled out into barrows or other proper ves¬
sels, and carried into the store-house, and delivered
into the custody of his majesty’s officers. And in this
manner the whole process is performed in 24 hoursg
the salt being usually drawn every morning.
3 N 2
SAL [ 468 ] SAL
In the store-house the salt is put hot into drabs,
which are partitions like stalls for horses, lined on three
sides and at the bottom with boards, and having a
sliding-board on the fore-side to put in or draw out as
occasion requires. The bottoms are made shelving,
being highest at the back-side, and gradually inclining
forwards; by which means the saline liquor, which
remains mixed with the salt, easily drains from it; and
the salt, in three or four days, becomes sufficiently
dry ; and is then taken out of the drabs, and laid up
in large heaps, where it is ready for sale.
The saline liquor which drains from the salt is not a
pure brine of common salt, but hath a sharp and bit¬
ter taste, and is therefore called bittern : this liquor, at
some works, they save for particular uses, at others,
throw away. A considerable quantity of this bittern
is left at the bottom of the pan after the process is
finished; which, as it contains much salt, they suffer to
remain in the pan, when it is filled up with sea-water.
But at each process this liquor becomes more sharp
and bitter, and also increases in quantity : so that, af¬
ter the third or fourth process is finished, they are
obliged to take it out of the pan; otherwise it mixes
in such quantities with the salt, as to give it a bitter
taste, and disposes it to grow soft and run in the open
air, and renders it unfit for domestic uses.
After each process there also adheres to the bottom
and sides of the pan, a white stony crust, of the same
calcareous substance with that before collected from
the boiling liquor. This the operators call stone-
scratch, distinguishing the other found in the lead-
pans by the name of powder-scratch. Once in eight
or ten days they separate the stone-scratch from their
pans with iroq picks, and in several places find it a
quarter off an inch in thickness. If this stony crust
is suffered to adhere to the pan much longer, it grows
so thick that the pan is burnt by the fire, and quickly
wears away.
In M. de Pages’s Travels round the World, we find
the following important fact. “ I had been anxious
(says that author) to ascertain by comparison, whether
sea-water contains salt in greater quantity under the
torrid than under the other zones; and my experiments
on this subject served to show, contrary to what I ex¬
pected, that sea-water is impregnated with salt in less
quantity within than without the tropics. ’ These ex¬
periments were made on a hundred pounds of sea-water, Salt
taken at the depth of ten fathoms, and weighed in wra- H
ter-scales. M. de Pages has given a table of these ex- SaltSl
periments, from which it appears that 100lb. of sea-
water in 46° 12" S. lat. gave 44 lb. of salt, and in 1°
16" only 34 lb.; and that in 74 N. Jat. it gave 4| lb.
and in 4° 22' only 3| lb. these being the highest and
lowest latitudes in which the experiments were made,
and also the greatest and least quantities of salt.
Duty on Salt, is a distinct branch of his majesty’s
extraordinary revenue, and consists in an excise of 3s.
4d. per bushel imposed upon all salt, by several statutes
of King William and other subsequent reigns. This
is not generally called an excise, because under the
management of different commissioners : but the com¬
missioners of the salt-duties have, by statute 1 Ann.
c. 21. the same powers, and must observe the same
regulations, as those of other excises. This tax had
usually been only temporary; but by statute 26 Geo II*
c. 3. was made perpetual.
SALT ASH, a sea-por.t town of Cornwall in Eng¬
land, situated on the river Tamar, having sufficient
depth of water for large ships. Saltash is a borough
town, sends two members to parliament, and contained
1478 inhabitants in 1811. It is distant 5 miles N. W.
from Plymouth, 220 miles W. S. W. from London,
and is in W. Long. 4. 6. N. Lat. 50. 24.
SALTCOATS, a sea-port town of Ayrshire in
Scotland, and on the frith of Clyde, at the end of the
17th century consisted of only four houses, but con¬
tained 1684 inhabitants in 1811. It is now a great
resort of strangers in summer as a watering-place, has
a considerable trade in coal and salt, with a rope-yard,
the manufacture of sail-cloth and ship-building. It is
30 miles from Glasgow, and 18 from Ayr, and in W.
Long. 4. 37. N. Lat. 55. 41.
SALTS, effects of, in producing great degrees of
cold. In the account of the remarkable effects of fri-
gorific mixtures, in which saline bodies act so import¬
ant a part, given in our article Chemistry, some er¬
rors had crept in. These errors, through the liberal
attention of Mr Walker of Oxford, whose researches
on this subject have been carried farther than any
other chemist, we are enabled to correct, by laying be¬
fore our readers the following tables, most obligingly
communicated to us by that gentleman.
TABLES,
SAL
I 469 ]
SAL
TABLES, exhibiting a collective View of all the Frigorific Mixtures contained in
Mr Walker’s Publication, 1808.
TABLE I—This Table consists of Frigorific Mixtures, having the power of generating or creating cold, ’without
the aid of ice, sufficient for all useful and philosophical purposes, in any part of the world, at any season.
Frigorific Mixtures, without Ice.
Mixtures.
Thermometer sinks.
Deg. of cold
produced.
Muriate of ammonia 5 parts
Nitrate of potash 6
Water 16
From +50° to +10°
40
Muriate of ammonia
Nitrate of potash
Sulphate of soda
Water
5 parts
5
8
16
From +50° to +4°
46
Nitrate of ammonia 1 part
Water 1
From +50° to +4°
46
Nitrate of ammonia 1 part
Carbonate of soda 1.
Water 1
From +50° to —7C
57
Sulphate of soda 3 parts
Diluted nitric acid 2
From -f 50° to —3°.
53
Sulphate of soda 6 parts
Muriate of ammonia 4
Nitrate of potash 2
Diluted nitric acid 4
From +50° to —10°
60
Sulphate of soda 6 parts
Nitrate of ammonia 5
Diluted nitric acid 4
From -I-50° to —14°
64
Phosphate of soda 9 parts
Diluted nitric acid 4
From +50° to —12°
62
Phosphate of soda 9 parts
Nitrate of ammonia 6
Diluted nitric acid 4
From +50° to —21°.
71
Sulphate of soda
Muriatic acid
8 parts
5
From d-50° to 0°.
50
Sulphate of soda 5 parts
Diluted sulphuric acid 4
From -j-50o to -f'3°.
47
N. B. If the materials are mixed at a warmer temperature, than that expressed in the table, the effect will
be proportionably greater ; thus, if the most powerful of these mixtures be made, when the air is 85°, it.
will sink the thermometer to 4-2°.
TABLE II
SAL
[ 470 ]
SAL
‘Salt,
Salt,
TABLE II.—This Table consists of Frigorific Mixtures, composed of ice, with chemical salts and acids,
Frigorific Mixtures, 'with ice.
Mixtures.
Snow, or pounded ice 2 parts
Muriate of soda 1
Snow, or pounded ice 5 parts
Muriate of soda 2
Muriate of ammonia 1
Snow, or pounded ice 24 parts
Muriate of soda 10
Muriate of ammonia 5
Nitrate of potash 5
Snow, or pounded ice 12 parts
Muriate of soda 5
Nitrate of ammonia 5
Thermometer sinks.
to —50°
to —12°
to —18°
to —25c
Snow - - 3 parts
Diluted sulphuric acid 2
Snow
Muriatic acid
8 parts
'5
Snow
Diluted nitric acid
7 parts
4
Snow
Muriate of lime
4 parts
5
Snow - - 2 parts
Chryst. muriate of lime 3
Snow
Potash
3 parts
4
From 4-32° to —23c
From -{-32° to —27°
From -f32° to —^30°
From -f 32° to —40°
From -{~320 to —50°
From 4-32° to —51c
Deg. of cold
produced.
55
59
62
82
83
N. B. The reason for the omissions in the last column of this table, is, the thermometer sinking in these mix¬
tures to the degree mentioned in the preceding column, and never lo'xer, whatever may be the temperature of
the materials at mixing.
TABLE III.
SAL
it,
Vw 1
[ 471 ]
SAL
SsJfc
TABLE III.—.This Table consists of Frigorific Mixtures selected from the foregoing tables, and combined, so galJmrr
as to increase or extend cold to the extremest degrees. .
Combinations of Frigorific Mixtures.
Mix tures.
Phosphate of soda 5 parts
Nitrate of ammonia 3
Diluted nitric acid 4<
Thermometer sinks.-
From 0° to —34>°
Phosphate of soda 3 parts
Nitrate of ammonia 2
Diluted mixed acids 41
Snow 3 parts
Diluted nitric acid 2
Snow 8 parts
Diluted sulphuric acid 3 I
Diluted nitric acid 3 (
From —34° to —50°
From 0° to —46°
From —10° to —56°
Snow 1 part
Diluted sulphuric acid 1
Snow
Muriate of lime
3 parts
4
Snow
Muriate of lime
3 parts
4
Snow
Muriate of lime
2 parts
3
Snow 1 part
Chryst. muriate of lime 2
Snow 1 part
Chryst. muriate of lime 3 parts
Snow 8 parts
Diluted sulphuric acid 10
From —20° to —60°
From +20° to —48c
Fi'om +10° to —54°
From —15° to —68°
From 0° to —66°
From —40° to —73°
From —68° to —OP
Deg. of cold
produced.
34
16
46
46
40
68
64
53
66
33
23
N. B. The materials in the first column are to be cooled, previously, to mixing, to the temperature required^
by mixtures taken from either of the preceding tables.
Triple Salts, a kind of salts formed by the union of
three ingredients ; the common neutrals being compos¬
ed only of two, as for instance, common alum, which is
composed of sulphuric acid, alumina, and potash.
Salt-Mines. See Salt.
RocJc-Salt. See Salt.
Salt-Water, or Sea-water, Distillation of. See Sea-
Water.
Neutral-SALTS. See Chemistry, passim.
Salt Springs. Of these there are great numbers in
different parts of the world, which undoubtedly have
their origin from some of the large collections of fossil
salt mentioned under the article Common Salt. See
that article, and likewise Spring.
SALTIER, one of the honourable ordinaries—See
Heraldry.
This, says G. Leigh, in his Accedence of Arms, p.
70, was anciently made of the height of a man, and
driven full of pins, the use of which was to scale walls,
&c. Upton says it was an instrument to catch wild
beasts, whence he derives this word from saltus, i. e.
“ a forest. ” The French call this ordinary sautoir, from
sauter, “ to leapbecause it may have been used by-
soldiers to leap over walls of towns, which in former
times were but low ; but some modern authors think it
is borne in imitation of St Andrew’s cross.
SALTING meat for the use of the navy.
The following is the method recommended by the late
Admiral
SAL [ 472 ] SAL
KaV.mg, ^(Kniiral Sir Charles Knowles- When the ox is kill-
jt j}e gkjnne(i antl cut Up into pieces fit for use
,as quick as possible, and salted while the meat is hot.
For which purpose we must have a sufficient quantity
of saltpetre and bay salt pounded together and made
hot in an oven, of each equal parts ; with this sprinkle
the meat at the rate of about two ounces to the pound ;
then lay the pieces on shelving boards to drain for 24
hours; which done, turn them and repeat the same
operation, and let them lie for 24 hours longer. By
this time the salt will be all melted, and have pene¬
trated the meat, and the pieces be drained off’; each
piece must then be wiped dry with clean coarse cloths.
A sufficient quantity of common salt must then be made
hot likewise in an oven, and mixed when taken out
with about one third of brown sugar; then the casks
being ready, rub each piece well with this mixture,
and pack them well down, allowing about half a pound
of the salt and sugar to each pound of meat, and it
will keep good several years.
It is best to proportion the casks to the quantity
used at one time, as the less it is exposed to the air
the better. The same process does for pork, only a
larger quantity of salt and less sugar must be used;
but the preservation of both depends equally upon the
meat being hot when first salted.
One pound of beef requires two ounces of saltpetre
and two ounces of bay-salt, because it is to be sprinkled
twice ; an ounce of each to a pound of beef both times.
The saltpetre requisite for 100 lb. of beef is 12^ lb.
which at 12d. per lb. is 12s. 6d.; and the same quan¬
tity of bay-salt (for 100 lb. of beef), at three half-pence
per lb. is Is. 6d.; of brown sugar and common salt
mixed together half a pound is required, the former in
the proportion of one-third, the latter of two-thirds, to
a pound of beef. The brown sugar at 8d. per pound.
A hundred pounds of beef will take 250 ounces, of it,
which costs 10s. 5d. The quantity of common salt
requisite for 100 lb. of beef is 533 ounces, which at
2d. per lb. amounts to 5s. 6d. The expense therefore
will stand thus.
Saltpetre, 12^ lb. for 100 lb. of beef, is
Bay-salt, 12^ lb. for do. is - -
Brown sugar, 250 oz. for do. is
Beef, 100 lb. at 6d. per pound, is
Th ree casks for it at Is. 6d. each,
Labour, and heating the oven twice,
Common salt, 533 oz. for do. is
L.O 12 6
0 1 6
0 10 5
2 10 0
0 4 6
0 4 0
0 5 6
L.4 8 5
These articles are taken high ; and if beef costs 6d.
per pound, meat cured thus will cost less than Is. per
pound ; and therefore comes much cheaper than live¬
stock in long sea voyages.
SALTPETRE, or Nitre, [nitrate of potash), a
compound of nitric acid and potash. See Potash,
Chemistry Index. The importance of this salt in va¬
rious manufactures renders every information relative
to its production valuable. The following method has
been long practised by the farmers of Appenzell in
Switzerland. In so hilly a country, most houses and
stabies are built on slopes, one side of the edifice rest¬
ing on the hill, and the other being supported by two
strong posts, elevated two or three feet above the
3
ground; so that the air has a free current under the Saltpctrt.
building. Immediately under the stable a pit is dug,y—
usually occupying both in breadth and length the
whole space of ground covered by the building; and
instead of the clayey earth which is dug out, the pit is
filled up with sandy soil. This is the whole process,
and all the rest is done by nature. The animal water,
which is continually oozing through the planks of the
floor, having drenched the earth contained in the pit
for the space of two or three years, the latter is em¬
ptied, and the saltpetre is refined and prepared in the
usual manner.
That manner, however, is not the best; and the
French chemists, during the incessant wars occasion¬
ed by the revolution, have, for the sake of supplying
their armies with gunpowder, turned their attention to
the best method of refining saltpetre. The following
are directions given for this purpose by Chaptal, Cham-
py, and Bonjour.
The crude saltpetre is to be beaten small with mal¬
lets, in order that the water may more easily attack
every part of the mass. The saltpetre is then to be
put into tubs, five or six hundred pounds in each tub.
Twenty per cent, of water is to be poured into each
tub, and the mixture well stirred. It must be left to
macerate or digest until the specific gravity of the
fluid ceases to augment. Six or seven hours are suf¬
ficient for this first operation, and the water acquires
the density of between 25 and 35 degrees. (Sp. gr.
1.21, and 1.306, ascertained by Baume’s hydrometer.)
The first water must then be poured off, and a se¬
cond portion of water must be poured on the same
saltpetre amounting to 10 per cent.; after wdiich the
mixture must be stirred up, suffered to macerate for
one hour, and the fluid drawn or poured off.
Five per cent, of water must then he poured on the
saltpetre ; and after stirring the whole, the fluid must
be immediately drawn oft’.
When the water is drained from the saltpetre, the
salt must be thrown into a boiler containing 50 per
cent, of boiling water. Wrhen the solution is made, it
will mark between 66 and 68 degrees of the hydrome¬
ter. (Sp. gr. 1.848, and 1.898).
The solution is to be poured into a proper vessel,
where it deposits, by cooling, about two thirds of the
saltpetre originally taken. The precipitation begins
in about half an hour, and terminates in between four
and six hours. But as it is of importance to obtain
the saltpetre in small needles, because in this form it
is more easily dried, it is necessary to agitate the fluid
during the whole time of the crystallization. A slight
motion is communicated to this liquid mass by a kind
of rake ; in consequence of which the crystals are de¬
posited in very slender needles.
In proportion as the crystals fall down, they are
scraped to the borders of the vessel, whence they are
taken with a skimmer, and thrown to drain in baskets
placed on tressels, in such a manner that the water
which passes through may either fall into the crystal¬
lizing vessel, or be received in basins underneath.
The saltpetre is afterwards put into wooden vessels
in the form of a mill-hopper or inverted pyramid with
a double bottom. The upper bottom is placed two
inches above the lower on wooden ledges, and has ma¬
ny small perforations through which water may pass to
'
SAL [ 413 ] 5 A L
j :petre. the lower bottom, which likewise affords a passage by
L ■y~—'' one single aperture. A reservoir is placed beneath.
The crystallized saltpetre is washed in these vessels
with 5 per cent, of water; which water is afterwards
employed in the solution of saltpetre in subsequent
operations.
The saltpetre, after sufficient draining, and being
dried by exposure to the air upon tables for several
hours, may then be employed in the manufacture of
gunpowder.
But when it is required to use the saltpetre in the
speedy and immediate manufacture of gunpowder, it
must be dried much more strongly. This may be ef¬
fected in a stove, or more simply by heating it in a flat
metallic vessel. For this purpose the saltpetre is to be
put into the vessel to the depth of five or six inches,
and heated to 40 or 50 degrees of the thermometer
^or about 135° of Fahrenheit). The saltpetre is to be
stirred for two or three hours, and dried so much that,
when strongly pressed in the hand, it shall acquire no
consistence, nor adhere together, but resemble a very
fine dry sand. This degree of dryness is not required
when the powder is made by pounding.
From these circumstances, we find that two saline
liquids remain after the operation ; (1) the water from
the washing; and (2) that from the crystallizing ves¬
sels.
We have already remarked, that the washing of the
saltpetre is performed in three successive operations,
in which, upon the whole, the quantity of fluid made
use of amounts to 35 per cent, of the weight of the
cru-de saltpetre. These washings are established on
the principle, that cold water dissolves the muriates of
soda, and the earthy nitrates and muriates, together
with the colouring principle, hut scarcely attacks the
nitrate of potash.
The water of these three washings therefore contains
the muriate of soda, the earthy salts, the colouring prin¬
ciple, and a small quantity of nitrate of potash; the
amount of which is in proportion tethat of the muriate
of soda, which determines its solution. The water of the
crystallizing vessels contains a portion of the muriates of
soda, and of the earthy salts which escaped the operation
of washing, and a quantity of nitrate of potash, which is
more considerable than that of the former solution.
The waters made use of at the end of the operation, to
whiten and wash the crystals deposited in the pyramidal
vessel, contain nothing but a small quantity of nitrate of
potash. These waters are therefore very different in
their nature. The water of the washings is really a
mother water. It must be collected in vessels, and treat¬
ed with potash by the known processes. It must be eva¬
porated to 66 degrees (or 1,848 sp.gr.), taking out the
muriate of soda as it falls. This solution is to be satura¬
ted with 2 or 3 per cent, of potash, then suffered to
settle, decanted, and poured into crystallizing vessels,
where 20 per cent, of water is to be added to keep the
.whole of the muriate of soda suspended.
The waters which are thus obtained by treatment
of the mother water may be mixed with the water of
the first crystallization. From these the marine salt
may be separated by simple evaporation; and the ni¬
trate of potash, which they hold in solution, may be
afterwards obtained by cooling. The small quantity
of water made use of to wash and whiten the refined
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
saltpetre, contains nothing but the nitrate of potash: Saltpan-*,
it may therefore be used in the solution of the salt- Sa-tstjul'£4
petre when taken from the tiibs. -
From this description it follows, that a manufactory
for the speedy refining of saltpetre ought to be pro¬
vided with mallets or rammers for pounding the salt¬
petre ; tubs for washing; a boiler for -solution; a cry¬
stallizing vessel of copper or lead, in which the saltpetre
is to be obtained by cooling; baskets for draining the
saltpetre ; scales and weights for weighing ; hydrome¬
ters and thermometers, to ascertain densities ami tem¬
peratures ; rakes to agitate the liquor in the crystalli¬
zing vessel; skimmers to take out the crystals, and con¬
vey them to the baskets; syphons or hand-pumps to
empty the boilers. The number and dimensions of
these several articles must vary according to the quan¬
tity of saltpetre intended to be refined.
SALTSBURG, an archbishopric of Germany, in
the circle of Bavaria, bounded on the east by Stiria
and the Upper Austria, on the wrest by the county of
Tyrol, on the north by the dutchy of Bavaria, and
on the south by the .dutchy of Carinthia and the bi¬
shopric of Brixen. It is said to be about 100 miles
from east to west, and upwrards of 60 from north to
south. With respect to the soil, it is very mountain¬
ous, yielding, however, excellent pasturage, and, in
consequence of that, abounding in cattle, and horses
remarkable for their mettle and hardiness. This coun¬
try is particularly noted for the great quantities of salt
it produces, and its strong passes and castles. Here
are also considerable mines of silver, copper, lead,
iron, and lapis calaminaris, with quarries of marble,
and a natural hot-bath. The principal rivers are the
Salza, the Inn, the Ens, and Muer; which, as well
as the lakes and other streams, are well stored with
fish. The peasants here are all allowed the use of
arms, and trained to military duty. There are no
nobles in the country, and most of the lands belong
to the clergy. The states consist of the prelates, the
cities, and towns. Notwithstanding this country is
rfnder the power of a Popish ecclesiastic, and the vio¬
lent, arbitrary, and oppressive manner in which the Pro-
testantshave always been treated, great numbers of them
still remained in it till the year 1732, when no less than
30,000 of them withdrew from it, dispersing themselves
in the several Protestant states of Europe, and some of
them were even sent from Great Britain to the American
colonies. Besides brass and steel wares, and all sorts of
arms and artillery, there are manufactures of coarse cloth
and linen here. The archbishop had many and great
prerogatives : he was a prince of the empire, and per¬
petual legate of the holy see in Germany, of w-hich he is
also primate. He had the first voice in the diet of this
circle, and next to the electors in that of the empire, in
the college of princes, in which he and the archduke of
Austria presided by turns. But his rights as a sove¬
reign prince were lost when the territory was united
to Austria in 1805. He had also the nomination to
several bishoprics ; and the canonicates that fall va¬
cant in the months in which the popes, by virtue of the
concordat, are allowed to nominate, are all in his gift.
His suffragans are the bishops of Freysingen, Ratis-
bon, Brixen, Gurk, Chiemsee, Seckan, and Levant;
and of these, the four last are nominated, and even con¬
firmed by him and not by the pope. His revenue was
t 3 0 said
$ A I, [ 4
SiRi£bmg, sa^(| f0 -amount to near 200,0007. a year, a great part
‘ 1 v oF rt arising From the saU-wwks. He was able to raise
25,000 men ; but kept in constant pay, besides bis
guards, only one regiment, consisting of 1000 men.
^At his accession to the see, the archbishop paid 100,000
crowns to Rome for the pall. There is an order of
knighthood here, instituted in 1711, in honour of St
Rupert, who -was the first bishop of Saltsburg, about
the beginning of the 8th century. This territory, which
formerly was an independent principality, was united to
Austria at the peace with France in 1805. At the
peace of Presburg in 1809, she was compelled to cede
Saltsburg to Bavaria; but she regained it in 1815, and
it now forms an integrant part of the Austrian mo¬
narchy.
Saltsburg, the capital of a German archbishopric
of the same name, and which takes its own from the
river Salza, on which it stands, and over which it has a
bridge. It is a very handsome place, well fortified, and
the residence of the archbishop. The houses are high,
and all built of stone: the roofs are in the Italian taste,
and you may walk upon them. The castle here is very
strong, and as strongly garrisoned, and well provided
with provisions and warlike stores. The archbishop’s
palace is magnificent; and, in the area before it, is a
fountain, esteemed the largest and grandest in Germany.
The stables are very lofty ; and the number of the
horses usually kept by the archbishop is said to be up¬
wards of 200- The city, of which one part stands on
a steep rock, is well built, but the streets are narrow and
badly paved. Besides the above mentioned, there are
two other stately palaces belonging to the archbishop,
one of which is called the Nuebau, and the other Mira-
lella. The latter of these has a very beautiful garden ;
and the number of trees in the orangery is so great, that
Mr Keysler tells us, 20,000 oranges have been ga¬
thered from them in one, year. The river Salza runs
close by the walls of this garden. There are a great
many other fine structures in the city, public and pri¬
vate, such as palaces, monasteries, hospitals, and church¬
es. In the cathedral dedicated to St Rupert (the apostle
of Bavaria, and a Scotchman by birth), all the altars are
of marble of different kinds, and one of the organs has
above 3200 pipes. The whole structure is extremely
handsome. It is built of freestone in imitation of St
Peter’s at Rome. The portico is of marble, and the
whole is covered with copper. Before the portico there
is a large quadrangular place, with arches and galleries,
in which is the prince’s residence; and in the mid¬
dle of this place there is a statue of the Virgin in
bronze ; it is a fine piece of art, but of an unnatural
size. There are large areas encompassed with hand¬
some buildings on both sides of the church. In the
middle of that which is to the left, there is a most mag¬
nificent fountain of marble, and some valuable figures
of gigantic size. There is likewise a fountain in that
to the right, but it is not to be compared with the for¬
mer one, and the Neptune of it makes but a very pi¬
tiful figure. This town contains many more excellent
buildings and statues, which remind one that the bor¬
ders of Italy are not far distant. The wifiter and sum¬
mer riding schools here are noble structures. The
university was founded in 1629, and committed to the
care of the Benedictines. Besides it, there are two
3
M ] SAL
colleges, in which the young noblemen are educated. 'SaMuirg
E. Long. 13. 0. Lat. 47- 45. I! ,
SALVADOR A, a genus of plants belonging to the 'ba
tetrandria class ; and in the natural method ranking
with those of which the order is doubtful. See'BoxANY
Index.
SALVAGE-money, a reward allowed by the civil
and statute law for the saving of ships or goods from the
danger of the sea, pirates, or enemies.—Where any ship
is in danger of being stranded, or driven on shore, jus¬
tices of the peace are to command the constables to
assemble as many persons as are necessary to preserve
it; and, on its being preserved by their means, the
persons assisting therein shall, in 30 days after, be paid
a reasonable reward for their salvage ; otherwise the
ship or goods shall remain in the custody of the officers
of the customs as a security for die same.
SALVATION, means the safety or preservation of
any thing which is or has been in danger, and is gene¬
rally used in a religious sense, when it means preserva¬
tion from eternal death, or reception to the happiness of
heaven, which is now offered to all men by the Christian
religion upon certain conditions. The Hebrews but
rarely make use of concrete terms as they are called,
but often of abstracted. Thus, instead of saying that
God saves them and protects them, they say that God
is their salvation. Thus the word of salvation, the
joy of salvation, the rock of salvation, the shield of sal¬
vation, the horn of salvation, &c. is as much as to say,
The word that declares deliverance; the joy that at¬
tends the escaping a great danger ; a rock where any
one takes refuge, and where he may be in safety from
bis enemy; a buckler, that secures him from the arm
of the enemy ; a horn or ray of light, of happiness and
salvation, &c. See Theology, &c.
SALVATOR rosa. See Rosa.
SALVE regina, among the Romanists, the name
of a Latin prayer, addressed to the Virgin, and sung
after complines, as also upon the point of executing a
criminal. Durandus says, it was composed by Peter
bishop of Composteila. The custom of singing the salve
regina at the close of the office was begun by order of
St Dominic, and first in the congregation of Domini¬
cans at Bologna, about 1237. Gregory IX. first ap¬
pointed it to be general. St Bernard added the con¬
clusion, 0 dulcis ! O pia, &c.
SALVIA, Sage, a genus of plants belonging to the
digynia class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 42d order, Verticillatce. See Botany Index.
SALVIANUS, an ancient father of the'Christian
church, who flourished in the 5th century, and was well
skilled in the sciences. It is said he lived in continence
with his wife Palladia, as if she had been his sister;
and that he was so afflicted at the wickedness of that
age, that he was called the Jeremiah of the fifth century..
He acquired such reputation for his piety and learning,
that he was named the master of the bishops. He wrote
a Treatise on Providence; another on Avarice; and
some epistles, of which Baluze has given an excellent
edition ; that of Conrad Rittershusius, in 2 vols octavo,,
is also esteemed.
SALUTATION, the act of saluting, greeting, or
paying respect and reverence to any one.
When men (writes the compiler of L’Esprit des
Usages
$ A L t 47-5 ] SAL
• Usages et Res Coutumcs) salaite cacli otlier in an ami¬
cable manner, it signifies Bttle whether they move a
particular part of the body, -or practise a particular ce¬
remony. In these actions there must exist different
customs. Every nation imagines it employs the most
reasonable ones; but all are equally simple, and none
;are to be treated as ridiculous. This infinite number
*of ceremonies may be reduced to two kinds ; to reve¬
rences or salutations ; and to the touch of some part
of the human body. To bend and prostrate one’s self
to express sentiments of respect, appears to be a na¬
tural motion; for terrified persons throw themselves
on the earth when they adore invisible beings. The
affectionate touch of the person they salute, is an ex¬
pression of tenderness. As nations decline from their
ancient simplicity, much farce and .grimace are intro¬
duced. Superstition, the manners of a people, and
their situation, influence the modes of salutation ; as
may he observed from the instances we collect.
Modes of salutation have sometimes very different
characters, and it is no uninteresting speculation to ex¬
amine their shades. Many display a refinement of de¬
licacy, while others are remarkable for their simplicity
or for their sensibility. In general, however, they are
frequently the same in the infancy of nations, and in
more polished societies. Respect, humility, fear, and
esteem, are expressed much in a similar manner ; for
these are the natural consequences of the organization
of the body. These demonstrations become, in time,
only empty civilities, which signify nothing. We shall
notice what they were originally, without reflecting on
'tvhat they are.
The first nations have no peculiar modes of saluta¬
tion ; they know no reverences, or other compliments,
. or they despise and disdain them. The Greenlanders
laugh when they see an European uncover his head and
bend his body before him whom he calls his superior.
The islanders, near the Philippines, take the hand or
foot of him they salute, and with it they gently rub
their face. The Laplanders apply their nose strongly
against that of the person they salute. Dampier says,
that at New Guinea they are satisfied in placing on
their heads the leaves of trees, which have ever passed
for symbols of friendship and peace. This is at least
a picturesque salute.
Other salutations are very incommodious and pain¬
ful; it requires great practice to enable a man to be po¬
lite in an island situated in the straits of Sunda. I lout-
man tells us, they saluted him in this odd way: “ They
raised his left foot, which they passed gently over the
right leg, and from thence over his face. ” The inha¬
bitants of the Philippines bend their body very low, in
placing their hands on their cheeks, and raising at the
same time one foot in the air, with their knee bent.
An Ethiopian takes the robe of another, and ties it
about his own waist, so that he leaves his friend half
naked. This custom of undressing on these occasions
takes other forms; sometimes men place themselves na¬
ked before the person whom they salute; it is to show
their humility, and that they are unworthy of appearing
in his presence. This was practised before Sir Joseph
Banks, when he received the visit of two female Ota-
heitans. Their innocent simplicity, no doubt, did not
appear immodest in the eyes of the virtuoso* Sometimes
they only undress partially. The Japanese only take off
a slipper; the people of Arracan, their sandals in the Saliitatlafe,
street, and their stockings in the house> w—
In the progress of time, it appears servile to uncover
one’s self. The grandees of Spain claim the right of
appearing covered before the king, to show that they
■are not so much subjected to him as the rest of the na¬
tion; and (this writer observes) we may remark, that
the English do not uncover their heads so much as the
other nations of Europe. In a word, there is not a na¬
tion (observes the humorous Montaigne), even to the
people who, when they salute, turn their backs on their
friends, but that can be justified in fc&eir customs. It
must be observed of the negroes, that they are lovers of
ludicrous actions, and thus make all their ceremonies
farcical. The greater part pull the fingers till they
crack. Snelgrave gives an odd representation of the
embassy which the king of Dahomy sent to him. The
ceremonies of salutation consisted in the most ridicu¬
lous contortions. When two-negro monarclrs visit, they
■embrace in snapping three times the middle finger.
Barbarous nations frequently imprint on their saluta¬
tions the dispositions of their character. When the in¬
habitants of Carmena (says Athenseus) would show' a
peculiar mark of esteem, they breathed a vein, and pre¬
sented for the beverage of their friend the blood as it
issued. The Franks tore hair from their head, and pre¬
sented it to the person they saluted. The slave cut off
his hair, and offered it to his master. The Chinese are
singularly affected in their personal civilities: they even
calculate the number of their reverences. These are
their most remarkable postures. The men move their
hands in an affectionate manner, while they are joined
together on the breast, and bow their head a little. If
they respect a person, they raise their hands joined, and
then low er them to the earth in bending the body. If
two persons meet after a long separation, they both fall
on their knees, and bend the face to the earth; and this
ceremony they repeat two or three times. Surely we
may differ here w ith the sentiment of Montaigne, and
confess this ceremony to he ridiculous. It arises from
their national affectation. They substitute artificial ce¬
remonies for natural actions. Their expressions mean
as little as their ceremonies. If a Chinese is asked how
he finds himself in health ? he answers, Very ‘well;
thanks to your abundant felicity. If they would tell a
man that he looks well, they say, Prosperity is painted
on your face; or Your air announces your happiness.
If you render them any service, they say, My thanks
should he immortal. If you praise them, they answer,
How shall I dare to persuade myself of what you say of
me? If you dine with them, they tell you at parting,
We have not treated you with sufficient distinction. The
various titles they invent for each other it would be
impossible to translate.
It is to be observed, that all these answers are pre¬
scribed by the Chinese ritual, or academy of compli¬
ments. There are determined the number of bows ;
the expressions to be employed; the genuflections, and
the inclinations which are to be made to the right or
left hand; the salutations of the master before the chair
where the stranger is to be seated, for he salutes it most ,
profoundly, and wipes the dust away with the skirts of
his robe; all these and other things are noticed, even
to the silent gestures, by which you are entreated to en¬
ter the house. The lower class of people are equally
3 0 2 nice
I
SAL [ 476 ] SAL
Salutation, nice in these punctilios; and ambassadors pass 40 days
Salute. jn practising them before they are enabled to appear at
Vrr"v ■’ court. A tribunal of ceremonies has been erected,
and every day very odd decrees are issued, to which
the Chinese most religiously submit.
The marks of honour are frequently arbitrary; to
be seated, with us, is a mark of repose and familiarity ;
to stand up, that of respect. There are countries,
however, in which princes will only be addressed by
persons who are seated, and it is considered as a favour
to be permitted to stand in their presence. This cus¬
tom prevails in despotic countries. A despot cannot suf¬
fer without disgust the elevated figure of his subjects:
he is pleased to bend their bodies with their genius:
his presence must lay those who behold him prostrate
on the earth : he desires no eagerness, no attention ;
he would only inspire terror.
The pope makes no reverence to any mortal except
the emperor, to whom he stoops a very little when he
permits him to kiss his lips.
SALUTE, in military matters, a discharge of ar¬
tillery, or small arms, or both, in honour of some per¬
son of extraordinary quality. The colours likewise sa¬
lute royal persons, and generals commanding in chief;
which is done by lowering the point to the ground.
In the field, when a regiment is to be reviewed by the
king or his general, the drums beat a march as he passes
along the line, and the officers salute one another, bow¬
ing their half-pikes or swords tn the ground ; then re¬
cover and take off their hats. The ensigns salute all
together, by lowering their colours.
Salute, in the navy, a testimony of deference or
homage rendered by the ships of one nation to an¬
other^ or by ships of the same nation to a superior or
equal.
This ceremony is variously performed, according to
the circumstances, rank, or situation, of the parties. It
consists in firing a certain number of cannon, or volleys
of small arms; in striking the colours or top-sails; or
in one or more general shouts of the whole ship’s crew,
mounted on the masts or rigging for that purpose.
The principal regulations with regard to salutes in
the royal navy are as follows.
“ When a flag-officer salutes the admiral and' com¬
mander in chief of the fleet, he is to give him fifteen
guns; but when captains salute him, they are to give
him seventeen guns. The admiral and commander in
chief of the fleet is to return two guns less to flag-officers,
and four less to captains. Elag-officers saluting their
superior or senior officer, are to give him thirteen guns,
nag-officers are to return an equal number of guns to
flag-officers bearing their flags on the same mast, and
two guns less to tlie rest, as also to captains.
“ When a captain salutes an admiral of the white or
blue, he is to give him fifteen guns; but to vice and
rear admirals, thirteen guns. When a flag officer is
saluted by two or more of his majesty’s ships, he is not
to return the salute till all have finished, and then to
do it with such a reasonable number of guns as he
shall judge proper.
“ In case of the meeting of two squadrons, the two
chiefs only are to exchange salutes. And if single ships
meet a squadron consisting of more than one flag, the
principal flag only is to be saluted. No salute shall be
repeated by the game ships, unless there has been a Saiute,
separation of six months at least. —'y—«
“ None of his majesty’s ships of war, commanded
only by captains, shall give or receive salutes from one
another, in whatsoever part of the world they meet.
“ A flag-officer commanding in chief shall be saluted
upon his first hoisting his flag, by all the ships present,
with such a number of guns as is allowed by the first,
third, or fifth articles.
“ When any of his majesty’s ships shall meet with any
ship or ships belonging to any foreign prince or state,
within his majesty’s seas (which extend to Cape Fi-
nisterre), it is expected, that the said foreign ships do
strike their top-sail, and take in their flag, in acknow¬
ledgement of his majesty’s sovereignty in those seas:
and if any shall refuse or offer to resist, it is enjoined to
all flag-officers and commanders to use their utmost en¬
deavours to compel them thereto, and not suffer any
dishonour to be done to his majesty. And if any of his
majesty’s subjects shall so much forget their duty, as to
omit striking their top-sail in passing by his majesty’s
ships, the name of the ship and master, and from whence,
and whither bound, together with affidavits of the fact,
are to be sent up to the secretary of the admiralty, in
order to their being proceeded against in the admiralty
court. And it is to be observed, that in his majesty’s
seas, his majesty’s ships are in nowise to strike to any ;
and that in other parts, no ship of his majesty’s is to
strike her flag or top-sail to any foreigner, unless such
foreign ship shall have first struck, or at the same time
strike, her flag or top-sail to his majesty’s ship.
“ The flag-officers and commanders of his majesty’s
ships are to be careful to maintain his majesty’s honour
upon all occasions, giving protection to his subjects, and
endeavouring, what in them lies, to secure and encou¬
rage them in their lawful commerce ; and they are not
to injure, in any manner, the subjects of his majesty’s1
friends and allies..
“ If a foreign admiral meet with any of his maje¬
sty’s ships, aid. salutes them, he slmll receive gun for
gun. If he be a vice-admiral, the admiral shall answer
with two guns less. If a rear-admiral, the admiral and
vice-admiral shall return two less. But if the ship be
commanded by a captain only, the flag-officer shall give
two guns less, and captains an equal number.
“ When any of his majesty’s ships come to an anchor
in a foreign, port or roadj within cannon-shot of its forts,
the captain may salute the place with such a number of
guns as have been customary, upon good assurance of
having the like number returned, but not otherwise.
But if the ship bears a flag, the flag-officer shall first
carefully inform himself how flags of like rank, belong¬
ing to other crowned heads, have given or returned
salutes, and to insist upon the same terms of respect.
“ It is allowed* to the commanders of his majesty’s
ships in foreign parts, to salute the persons of anyadmi-
rals, commanders in chief, or captains of ships of war of
foreign nations, and foreign noblemen, or strangers of
quality, as also the factories of theking’s-subjects, com¬
ing on board to visit the ship ; and the number of guns
is left to the commander, as shall be suitable to the oc¬
casion and tlm quality of the persons visiting; but he is
nevertheless to remain accountable for any excesses in
the abuse of this liberty. If the ship visited he in com-
pany.
SAM [4
jute pany with other ships of war, the captain is .not to
|| make use of the civilities allowed in the preceding ar-
aneans. tjcjes wijh leave and consent of the commander in
-v ' chief or the senior captain.
“ Merchant-ships, whether foreigners or belonging
to his majesty’s subjects, saluting the admiral of the
fleet, shall be answered by six guns less; when they
salute any other flag-ships, they shall be answered by
four guns less; and if they salute men of war com¬
manded by captains, they shall be answered by two
guns less. If several merchant-ships salute in com¬
pany, no return is to be made till all have finished,
and then by such a number of guns as shall be thought
proper ; but though the merchant-ships should answer,
there shall be no second return.
“ None of his majesty’s ships of war shall salute any
of his majesty’s forts or castles in Great Britain or Ire¬
land, on any pretence whatsoever. ”
SALUZZO, called by the French Saluces, a town
and castle of Italy, in Piedmont, and capital of a mar-
quisate of the same name, with a bishop’s see. It is
situated on an eminence at the foot of the Alps near
the river Po, in E. Long. 7. 29. N. Lat. 44. 33, and
is subject to the king of Sardinia.
Saluzzo, the marquisate of, a province of Pied¬
mont in Italy, bounded on the north by Dauphiny,
and the province of the Four Valleys, on the east by
those of Saviglano and Fossano, on the south by that
of Cona and the county of Nice, and on the west by
Barcelonetta. It was ceded to the duke of Savoy in
1601.
SAM A, a town and fort in the hands of the Dutch
on the Gold Coast of Africa, stands on an eminence,
the fort being watered by the pleasant river of St
George, that discharges itself into the sea. The town
contains above 200 houses, which seem to form three
distinct villages, one of which is immediately under the
cannon of the Dutch fort St Sebastian. Des Marchais
deems this town to be one of the largest on the whole
coast, Barbot likewise agreeing with him in its situation,
extent, and number of inhabitants. The sole employ¬
ment of the natives is fishing; a circumstance which
easily accounts for their poverty. The government of
this place is republican, the magistrates having the su¬
preme power, being subject to periodical changes, and
under the authority of the king of Gavi, who seldom
however interferes in the affairs of the state. This
prince resides some leagues distant from the sea, is
rich, and much respected by his neighbours..
SAMANEANS, in antiquity, a kind of magi or
philosophers, have been confounded by some with the
Bramins. They proceeded from Ariana, a province
of PaVia, and the neighbouring countries, spread them¬
selves in India, and taught new doctrines.
The Bramins, before their arrival, it is said, were in
the highest period of their glory, were the only oracles
of India, and their principal residence was on the banks
of the Ganges, and in the adjacent mountains ; while
the Samaneans were settled towards the Indus. Others
say, that the Bramins acquired all their knowledge from
the Samaneans, before whose arrival it would be diffi¬
cult to prove that the Bramins were the religious teach¬
ers of the Indians. The most celebrated and ancient
of She Samanean doctors was Uoutta, or Budda, who
] S A M
was born 683 years before Christ. His scholars paid Samaneans
him divine honours ; and his doctrine, which consisted II
chiefly in the transmigration of souls, and in the wor-Samarca ,
ship of cows, was adopted not only in India;, but also w
in Japan, China, Siam, and Tartary. It was propas
gated according to M. de Sainte Croix, in Thibet, in
the 8th century, and succeeded there the ancient relb
gion of Zamolxis. The Samaneans, or Buddists, were
entirely destroyed in India by the jealous rage of the
Bramins, whose absurd practices and fables they affectr
ed to treat with contempt; but several of their books
are still preserved and respected on the coasts of Ma¬
labar.
We are told, too, that several of the Bramin orders
have adopted their manner of living, and openly profess
the greatest part of their doctrines. L'Ezour Vedam,
oil Ancien Comment du Vedam, published by M. de S.
Croix, Paris 1779. See Bramins.
SAMAR, a Spanish island not far from Manilla in
the East Indies, is called Samar on the side which looks
towards the other isles, and Ibabao on that next the Modem
ocean. Its greatest length, from Cape Baliquaton, which, Univ. IIi*?.
with the point of Manilla, makes the strait of St Ber- '° j^11'
nardino, in 13 deg. 30 min. north latitude, extends to*
that of Guignan in 11 deg. towards the south. The
other two points, making the greatest breadth of the
island, are Cabo de Spirito Santo, or Cape of the Holy
Ghost, the high mountains of which are the first disco¬
vered by ships from New Spain ; and that which lying
opposite to Leyte westward, makes another strait, scarce
a stone’s throw over. The whole compass of the island
is about 130 leagues. Between Guignan and Cape
Spirito Santo is the port of Borognon, and not far from
thence those of Palapa and Catubig, and the little island
of Bin, and the coast of Catarman.. Vessels from coun¬
tries not yet discovered are very frequently cast away
on the before-mentioned coast of Palapa.. Within the
straits of St Bernardino, and beyond Baliquaton, is the
coast of Samar, on which are the villages of Ibatan,.
Bangahon, Cathalogan, Paranos, and Calviga. Then
follows the strait of St Juanilla, without which, stand¬
ing eastward, appears the point and little island of Guig-
nau, where the compass of the island ends. It is moun¬
tainous and craggy, but the few plains which it contains-
are very fertile. The fruits are much the same as those
of Leyte ; but there is one particular sort, called by
the Spaniards chicoy, and by the Chinese, who put a*
great value on it, seyzu, without kernels.
SAMARA, a genus of plants belonging to the te-
trandria class. See Botany Index.
SAM ARC AND, or Sarmacand, an ancient and
famous town of Asia, capital of the kingdom of the
same name in the country of the Usbeck Tartars, with
a castle and a famous university. The houses are built
with stones, and it carries on a trade in excellent fruits.
It is pleasantly seated near the river Sogde, a branch of
the Amu. E. Long. 69. 0. N. Lat. 39. 50. This town
was the capital of the kingdom of Sogdia in the time-
of Alexander the Great, when it was c&WeA Maracanda.
It was afterwards the capital of the empire of Tamer¬
lane the Great. In the time of Jenghis Khan, it was
forced to yield to the arms of that cruel conqueror ; by
whom the garrison, amounting to 30,000 men, were-
butchered; 30,000 of the inhabitants, with their wives
■SAM f 478 1 S A 'M
*fe.watc3.ft’d,:an<i.chUUfen, -were presented to'lils generals; .the rest 'Lastly, it was besieged by Salmaneser king of Assy- Samaris
Savaaxia., ,meie permitted to live in the-city, on paying a tribute wia, in the ninth year of Hoshea king of Israel (2 Kings' r-
'of 300,000 dinars or crowns of gold. :xvii. 6, 7, &c.), which was the fourth of Hezekiah king
SAMARIA,in Ancient Geography,-one of the three -of Judah, it was taken three years after, in the year
larger Cisjordan districts, situated in the middle be- of the world 3283. The prophet Hosea speaks of the
tween Galilee to the north and Judea to the south, ;cruelties exercised by Salmaneser against the besieged
beginning at the village Ginsea, in the Campus Mag- (Hos. x. 4, 8, 9. xiv. i.); and Micah says, that this
hus, and ending at the toparchy called Acrobatena city was reduced to a heap of stones (Mic. i. 6.)- The
(Josephus). Its soil differing in nothing from that of Cuthites that were sent by Esar-haddon to inhabit the
. Judea; both equally- hilly and campaign, both equally country of Samaria, did not think it worth their while
fertile in corn and fruit (ib.). Called the kingdom of to repair the ruins of this city; they dwelt at Shechem,
Samaria in Ephraim (Bible); comprising the ten tribes, which they made the capital city of their state. They
and consequently all the .country to the north of Judea were still upon this footing when Alexander the Great
and east and west of Jordan. came into Phoenicia and Judea. However, the Cu-
Samaria, the capital city of the kingdom of Sama- thites had rebuilt some of the houses of Samaria, even
via, or of the ten tribes. It was built by Omri king of 'from the time of the return from the captivity, since
Israel, who began to reign in the year of the world Ezra then speaks of the inhabitants of Samaria (Ezra
5079, and died 3086 (1 Kings xvi. 24.). He bought iv. 17. Nehem. iv. 2.); and that the Samaritans, being
the hill Samaria of Shemer for two talents of silver or jealous of the favours that Alexander the Great had
for the sum of 684^. 7s. 6d. It took the name of Sama- conferred on the Jews, revolted from him while this
ria from Shemer the owner of the hill; though some prince was in Egypt, and burnt Andromachus alive,
.think there were already some beginnings of a city, be- whom Alexander had left governor of Syria. Alex-
cause, before the reign of Omri, there is mention made ander marched against them, took Samaria, and put in
of Samaria (1 Kings xiii. 32.) in the year of the world Macedonians to inhabit it; giving the country round
5030. But others take this for a prolepsis, or an an- it to the Jews ; and to encourage them to cultivate it,
ticipation, in the discourse of the man of God, who he granted them an exemption from tribute, fhe
speaks of Samaria under the reign of Jeroboam. king of Egypt and Syria, who succeeded Alexander,
However this be, it is certain that Samaria was no deprived them of the property of this country,
considerable place, and did not become the capital city But Alexander Balas king of Syria restored to Jona-
of the kingdom of Israel till after the reign of Omri. than Maccabceus the cities of Lydda, Ephrem, and Ra-
Before him, the kings of Israel dwelt at Shechem, or matha, which he cut off from the country of Samaria
Tirzah. Samaria was situated upon an agreeable and (I Mac. x. 30, 38, and xi. 2.3, 34.) Lastly, the Jews
fruitful hill, in an advantageous situation, and was 12 re-entered into the full possession of this whole country
miles from Dothaim, 12 from Merrom, and four from under John Hircanus the Asmonaean, who took Sama-
Atharoth. Josephus says, it was a day’s journey from ria, and ruined it in such a manner, according to Jose-
Jerusalem. Besides, though it was built upon an emi- phus, that he made the river run through its ruins. It
nence, yet it must have water in abundance: since we continued in this condition to the year of the world
find medals struck in this city, whereon is represented 3947, when Aulus Gabinius, the proconsul of Syria,
the goddess Astarte treading a river under foot; which rebuilt it, and gave it the name of Gabiniana. But
proves it to have been well watered. And Josephus it was yet but very inconsiderable, till Herod the
observes, that when it was taken by John Hircanus Great restored it to its ancient lustre, and gave it the
the prince .of the Jews, he entirely demolished it, and Greek name of Sebaste, which in Latin is Augusta,
caused even the brook to flow over its ruins, to obli- in honour of the emperor Augustus, who had given
, terate all the footsteps of it. him the property of this place.
The kings of Samaria omitted nothing to make this The sacred authors of the New Testament speak but
city the strongest, the finest, and the richest that was little of Samaria; and when they do mention it, it is
possible. Ahab built there a palace of ivory (i Kings rather in respect of the country, about it, than of the
xxii. 39..), that is, in which there were many orna- city itself. . (See Luke xvii. i 1. John iv. 4,5.)—It was
. meets of ivory. Amos describes Samaria under Je- there our Lord had the conversation with the woman of
roboam II, as a city sunk into all the excesses of luxu- Samaria, thst is, with a Samaritan woman of the city
ry and effeminacy (Amos hi. 15. and iv. 1, 2.). of Sychar. After the death of St Stephen, ( Acts viii.
Ben-hadad king of Syria built public places or streets 1,2, 3.), when the dis^Sles were dispersed through the
in Samaria (1 Kings xx. 34.) probably for traffic, cities of Judea and Samaria, St Philip the deacon with-
. where his people dwelt to promote trade. His son drew into the city of Samaria, where he made several
. Ben-hadad besieged this place under the reign of converts. When the apostles heard that this city had
Ahab (1 Kings xx. 1, 2, 3, &c.) in the year of the received the word of God, they sent Peter and John
world 3103- thither, to communicate the Holy Ghost to such as had
The following year, Ben-hadad brought an army into been baptized. It was there they found Simon Magus,
the field, probably with a design to march against Sa- who offered money to the apostles, being in hopes to
maria ; but his army was again cut in pieces. Some buy this power of communicating the Holy Ghost. Sa-
years after this, Ben-hadad came a third time, lay dbwn maria is never called Sebaste in the books of the New
before Samaria, and reduced it to such necessities by Testament, though strangers hardly knew it but by this
famine, that a mother was there forced to eat her own name. St Jerome says, that it was thought Obadiah
child; but the city was relieved by a sensible effect of was buried at Samaria. They also showed there the
the protection of God. tombs of Elisha and of St John the Baptist. There are
S A M [ 479 ] SAM*
naria, found many ancient medals that were struck at Sebaste,
J aritans. or Samaria, and some bishops oftliis city have subscribed
a. r^-1 to the ancient councils.
SAMARITANS. We have already spoken of the
Samaritans under the article Cuth. The Samaritans
are the people of the city of Samaria, and the inhabi¬
tants of the province of which Samaria was the capital
city. In this sense, it should seem that we might give
the name of Samaritans to the Israelites of the ten tribes,
who lived in the city and territory of Samaria. How¬
ever, the sacred authors commonly give the name of Sa¬
maritans only to those strange people whom the kings
of Assyria sent from beyond the Euphrates to inhabit
the kingdom of Samaria, when they took away captive
the Israelites that were there before. Thus we may fix
the epoch of the Samaritans at the taking of Samaria
by Salmaneser, in the year of the world 3283. This
prince carried away captive the Israelites that he found
in the country, and assigned them dwellings beyond
the Euphrates, and in Assyria, (2 Kings xvii. 24.).
He sent othe' inhabitants in their stead, of which the
most considerable were the Cuthites, a people descend¬
ed from Cush, and who are probably of the number of
those whom the ancients knew by the name of Scy¬
thians.
After Salmaneser, his successor Esar-haddon was in¬
formed, that the people which had been sent to Samaria
were infested by lions that devoured them, (2 Kings
xvii. 25.); this he imputed to the ignorance of the peo¬
ple in the manner of worshipping the god of the coun¬
try. Wherefore Esar-haddon sent a priest of the God
of Israel that he might teach them the religion of the
Hebrews. But they thought they might blend this re¬
ligion with that which they professed before ; so they
continued to worship their idols as before, in conjunc¬
tion with the God of Israel, not perceiving how ab¬
surd and incompatible these two religions were.
It is not known how long they continued in this
state; but at the return from the captivity of Babylon,
it appears they had entirely quitted the worship of their
idols; and when they asked permission of the Israelites
that they might labour with them at the rebuilding of
the temple of Jerusalem, they affirmed, that from the
time that Esar-haddon had brought them into this coun¬
try they had always worshipped the Lord, (Ezra iv.
1, 2, 3.1. And indeed, after the return from the cap¬
tivity, the Scripture does not anywhere reproach them
with idolatrous worship, though it does not dissemble ei¬
ther their jealously against the Jews, nor the ill offices
they had done them at the court of Persia, by their
slanders and calumnies, or the stratagems they contriv¬
ed to hinder the repairing of the walls of Jerusalem.—
(Nehem.ii. 10, 19. iv. 2, &c. vi. 1, 2, &c.).
It does not appear that there was any temple in Sa¬
maria, in common to all these people who came thither
from beyond the Euphrates, before the coming of A-
lexander the Great into Judea. Before that time, every
one was left to his own discretion, and worshipped the
Lord where he thought fit. But they presently compre¬
hended, from the books of Moses which they had in
their hands, and from the example of the Jews their
neigbours, that God was to be worshipped in that place
only which he had chosen. So that since they could
not go to the temple of Jerusalem which the Jews would
not allow of, they bethought themselves of building a
temple of their own upon Mount Gerizim, near the city‘Samaritans,
of Shechem, which was then their capital. Therefore*
Sanballat the governor of the Samaritans, applied him¬
self to Alexander, and told him he had a son-in-law,
called Manasses, son to Jaddus the high-priest of the
Jews, who had retired to Samaria with a great number
of other persons of his own nation ; that he desired to
build a temple m this province, where he might exer¬
cise the high-priesthood; that this undertaking would
be to the advantage of the king’s affairs, because in
building a temple in the province of Samaria, the na¬
tion of the Jews would be divided, who are a turbulent
and seditious people, and by such a division would be
made weaker, and less in a condition to undertake new
enterprises.
Alexander readily consented to what Sanballat desir¬
ed, and the Samaritans presently began their building
of the temple of Gerizim, which from that time ihey
.have always frequented, and still frequent to this day,
as the place where the Lord intended to receive the
adoration of his people. It is of this mountain
and of this temple, that the Samaritan woman of Sy-
char spoke to our Saviour, (John iv. 20). See Ga-
rizim.
The Samaritans did not long continue under the o»
bedience of Alexander. They revolted from him the
very next year, and Alexander drove them out of Sama¬
ria, put Macedonians in their room, and gave the pro¬
vince of Samaria to the Jews. This preference that A-
lexander gave to the Israelites contributed not a iktie
to increase that hatred and animosity that had already
obtained between these two people. When any Israel¬
ite had deserved punishment for the violation of some
important point of the law, he presently took refuge in
Samaria or Shechem. and embraced the way of worship
according to the temple of Gerizim. When the Jews
were in a prosperous condition, and affairs were favour¬
able to them, the Samaritans did not fail to call them¬
selves Hebrews, and pretended to be of the race of A-
braham. But no sooner were the Jews fallen into dis¬
credit or persecution, but the Samaritans imtnedi - tely
disowned them, would have nothing in common with
them, acknowledged themselves to be Phoenicians origi¬
nally, or that they were descended from Joseph and
Manasseh his son. This used to be their practice ia
the time of Antiochus Epiphanes.
The Samaritans, having received the Pentateuch, or
the five books of Moses, from the priest that was sent
by Esar-haddon, have preserved it to this day, in the
same language and character it was then, that is,-in Pie
old Hebrew or Phoenician character, which we'-nowcall
the Samaritan, to distinguish it from the modern He¬
brew character, which at present we find in the rooks
of the Jews. These last after their captivity, changed
their old characters, and lookup those of tire Chaldee,
which they had been used to at Babylon, and which
they continue still to use. It is wrong, says F. Cahnet,
to give this the name of the Hebrew character, tor that
can be said properly only ol the Samaritan text. i h
critics have taken notice of some variations between thp
Pentateuch of the Jews and that of the Samaritans;
but these varieties of reading chiefly regard the word
Gerizim, which the Samaritans seem to have purposely
introduced to favour their pretensions, that Mount
Gerizim was the place in which the Lord was to be
adorecL
SAM [ 480 ] S A M
Samaritans.a(jore(3. The other various readings are of small im-
1 " ' v 1' portance.
The religion of this people were at first the Pagan.
Every one worshipped the deity they had been used to
in their own -country (2 Kings xvii. 125, 30, 31.) The
Babylonians worshipped Succoth-benoth ; theCuthites,
Nergal; the Hamathites, Ashima; the Avites, Nib-
haz and Tartak ; the Sepharvites, Adrammelech and
Anammeleeh. If we would enumerate all the names
of false gods to whom the Samaritans have paid a sa¬
crilegious worship, we should have enough to do. This
matter is -sufficiently perplexed, by reason of the dif¬
ferent names by which they were adored by different na¬
tions, insomuch that it would be almost impossible to
clear up this affair. See Succoth-benoth, &c. Af¬
terwards, to this profane worship the Samaritans added
that of the Lord, the God of Israel, (2 Kings xvii. 29,
30, 31, 32.) They gave a proof of their little regard
to this worship of the true God, when under Antiochus
Epiphanes they consecrated their temple at Gerizim to
Jupiter Argivus. In the time of Alexander the Great,
they celebrated the sabbatical year, and consequently
the year of jubilee also. We do not know whether they
did it exactly at the same time with the Jews, or whe¬
ther they observed any other epoch; and it is to little
purpose that somecriticshaveattemptedto ascertain the
first beginning of it. Under the kings of Syria they
followed the epoch of the Greeks, or that of the Seleu-
-cidae, as other people did that were under the govern¬
ment of the Seleucidae. After that Herod had re “esta¬
blished Samaria, and had given it the name of Sebaste,
the inhabitants of this city, in their medals, and all pu¬
blic acts, took the date of this new establishment. But
the inhabitants of Samaria, of which the greater part
were Pagans or Jews, were no rule to the other Sama¬
ritans, who probably reckoned their years according to
the reigns of the emperors they were subject to, till the
-time they fell under the jurisdiction of the Mahometans,
under which they live at this day ; and they reckon
their year by die Hegira, or, as they speak, according
to the reign of Ishmael, or the Ishmaelites. Such of
our readers as desire to be further acquainted with the
history of the ancient Samaritans, we refer to the works
of Josephus, where they will find that subject largely
treated of.
As to their belief, it is objected to them, that they
receive only the Pentateuch, and reject all the other
>books of Scripture, chiefly the prophets, who have more
expressly declared the coming of the Messiah.—They
have also been accused of believing God to be corpo¬
real, of denying the Holy Ghost, and the resurrection
of the dead. Jesus Christ reproaches them (John iv.
22.) with worshipping they know not what; and in the
place already referred to he seems to exclude them from
salvation, when he says, that “ Salvation is of the
Jews. ” Trueit is, that these words might only signify,
that the Messiah was to proceed from the Jews ; but
the crime of schism alone, and a separation from the
true church, was sufficient to exclude them from salva¬
tion. The Samaritan woman is a sufficient testimony
that the Samaritans expected a Messiah, who they
hoped would clear up all their doubts (John iv. 25.)
Several of the inhabitants of Shechem believed at the
reaching of Jesus Christ, and several pf Samaria be¬
lieved at that of St Philip ; but it is said, they soon Sam at it I
fell back to their former errors, being perverted byv*
Simon Magus.
The Samaritans at present are very few in number.
Joseph Scaliger, being curious to know their usages,
wrote to the Samaritans of Egypt, and to the high-
priest of the whole sect who resided at JSJeapolis in Sy¬
ria. They returned two answers to Scaliger, dated in the
year of the Hegira 998. These were preserved in the
French king’s library, and were translated into Latin
by Father Morin, and printed in England in the collec¬
tion of that father’s letters, in 1682, under the title of
Antiquitates Ecclesice Orientalis. By these letters it ap¬
pears, that they believe in God, in his servant Moses,
the holy law, the mountain Gerizim, the house of
God, the day of vengeance and of peace; that they
value themselves upon observing the law of Moses in
many points more rigidly than the Jews themselves.—.
They keep the sabbath with the utmost strictness re¬
quired by the law, without stirring from the place they
are in, but only to the synagogue. They go not out
of the city, and abstain from their wives on that day.
They never delay circumcision beyond the eighth day.
They still sacrifice to this day in the temple on Mount
Gerizim, and give to the priest what is enjoined by
the law. They do not marry their own nieces, as the
Jews do, nor do they allow themselves a plurality
of wives. Their hatred for the Jews may be seen
through all the history of Josephus, and in several
places of the New Testament. The Jewish historian
informs us, that under the government of Coponius,
one passover night, when they opened the gates of the
temple, some Samaritans had scattered the bones of dead
men there, to insult the Jews, and to interrupt the de¬
votion of the festival. The evangelists show us, that
the Jews and Samaritans held no correspondence toge¬
ther. (John iv. 9.) “ The Jews have no dealings
with the Samaritans. ” And the Samaritan woman of
Sychar was much surprised that Jesus talked with her,
and asked drink of her, being a Samaritan. When our
Saviour sent his apostles to preach in Judea, he forbade
them to enter into the Samaritan cities, (Matt. x. 5.);
because he looked upon them as schismatics, and as
strangers to the covenant of Israel. One day when he
sent his disciples to provide him a lodging in one of the
cities of the Samaritans, they would not entertain him,
because they perceived he was going to Jerusalem.
(Luke ix. 53.) Because his face was as though
he would go to Jerusalem. ” And when the Jews were
provoked at the reproaches of Jesus Christ, they told
him he was a Samaritan (John viii. I8.) thinking they
could say nothing more severe against him. Josephus
relates, that some Samaritans having killed several Jews
as they were going to the feast at Jerusalem, this oc¬
casioned a kind of a war between them. The Sama¬
ritans continued their fealty to the Homans, when the
Jews revolted from them ; yet they did not escape
from being involved in some of the calamities of their
neighbours.
There are still at this day some Samaritans at Shechem,
otherwise called Naplouse. They have priests there,
who say they are of the family of Aaron. They have a
high-priest, who resides at Shechem, or at Gerizim, who
offers sacrifices there, and who declares the feast of the
passover,
1
SAM
[ 4S1 1
S A M
naritans passover, and all the other feasts, to all the dispers-
II j ed Samaritans. Some of them are to be found at
imk , Gaza, some at Damascus, and some at Grand Cairo.
'v SAMBUCUS, Elder, a ijenus of plants belonging
to the pentandria class ; and in the natural method
ranking under the 43d order, Dumosce. "See Botany
Index.
All the sorts of elder are of the deciduous tribe,
very hardy, and grow freely anywhere ; are generally
free shooters, but particularly the common elder and
varieties, which make remarkably strong, jointed
shoots, of several feet in length, in one season ; and
they flower mostly in summer, except the racemose
cider, which generally begins flowering in April ; and
the branches being large, spreading, and very abund¬
ant, are exceedingly-conspicuous; but they emit a
disagreeable odour. The flowers are succeeded in
most of the sorts by large bunches of ripe berries in
autumn, which, although very unpalatable to eat, are
in high estimation for making that well known cordial
liquor called elder mne, particularly the common black-
berried elder. In gardening, the elder is both useful
and ornamental, especially in extensive grounds.
SAMIAN earth, in the materia medica, the name
of two species of marl used in medicine, viz. The
white kind, called by the ancients collyrium samium,
being astringent, and therefore good in diarrhoeas, dy¬
senteries, and haemorrhagies ; they also used it exter¬
nally in inflammations of all kinds. 2. The brownish
white kind, called aster samius by Dioscorides ; this
also stands recommended as an astringent.
SAMIELS, the Arabian name of a hot wind pecu-
.’s Fojr-liar to the desert of Arabia. It blows over the desert
1 tj0™ in the months of July and August from the north-west
(0 quarter, and sometimes it continues with all its violence
i, to the very gates of Bagdad, but never affects any body
within the walls. Some years it does not blow at all,
and in others it appears six, eight, or ten times, but
seldom continues more than a few minutes at a time.
It often passes with the apparent quickness of lightning.
The Arabians and Persians, who are acquainted with
the appearance of the sky at or near the time this wind
arises, have warning of its approach by a thick haze,
which appears like a cloud of dust arising out of the
horizon ; and they immediately upon this appearance
throw themselves with their faces to the ground, and
continue in that position till the wind is passed, which
frequently happens almost instantaneously; but if, on
the contrary, they are not careful or brisk enough to
take this precaution, which is sometimes the case, and
they get the full force of the wind, it is instant death.
The above method is the only one which they take
to avoid the effects of this fatal blast; and when it is
over, they get up and look round them for their com¬
panions ; and if they see any one lying motionless,
they take hold of an arm or leg, and pull or jerk it
with some force; and if the limb thus agitated sepa¬
rates from the body, it is a certain sign that the wind
has had its full effect; but if, on the contrary, the arm
or leg does not come away, it is a sure sign there is
life remaining, although to every outward appearance
the person is dead ; and in that case they immediate¬
ly cover him or them with clothes, and administer
some warm diluting liquor to cause a perspiration,
which is certainly, but slowly, brought about.
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
The Arabs themselves can say little or nothing a- Sani-cfe
bout the nature of this wind, only that it always leaves g.in|, s
behind it a very strong sulphureous smell, and that i_ ■
the air at these times is quite clear, except about the
horizon, in the north-west quarter, before observed,
which gives warning of its approach. We have not
been able to learn whether the dead bodies are scorch¬
ed, or dissolved into a kind of gelatinous substance;
but from the stories current about them, there has been
frequent reason to believe the latter ; and in th^t case
such fatal effects may be attributed rather to a noxious
vapour than to an absolute and excessive heat. The
story of its going to the gates of Bagdad and no far¬
ther, may be reasonably enough accounted for, if the
effects are attributed to a poisonous vapour, and not an
excessive heat. The above mentioned wind, Samiel,
is so well known in the neighbourhood of Bagdad and
Bassora, that the very children speak of it with dread.
SAMOGITIA, a province of Poland, bounded on
the north by Courland, on the east by Lithuania, on
the west by the Baltic sea, and on the south by Regal
Prussia, being about 175 miles in length and 125 in
breadth. It is full of forests and very high moun¬
tains, which feed a great number of cattle, and pro-
duce a large quantity of honey. There are also very
active horses, in high esteem. The inhabitants are
clownish, but honest; and they will not allow a young
woman to go out in the night without a candle in her
hand and two bells at her girdle. Rossenna and.
Worma are the principal places.
S AMOIED A,-a country of the Russian empire, be¬
tween Asiatic Tartary and Archangel, lying along the
sea-coast as far as Siberia. The inhabitants are ex¬
tremely rude and barbarous. They travel on the snow
on sledges, drawn by an animal like a rein-deer, but
with the horns of a stag. Their stature is short ; their
shoulders and faces are broad, with fiat broad noses,
hanging lips, and staring eyes; their complexion is
dark, their hair long and black ; and they have very
little beard. If they have any religion at all, it is idol¬
atry, though there have been some attempts of late to
convert them. Their huts are made of birch bark sew¬
ed together, and laid upon stakes set in the ground ; at
the top is a hole to let out the smoke ; the fire is made
in the middle, round which they repose in the night.—
Their chief employment is hunting and fishing.
SAMOLUS, Water Pimpernel ; a genus of
plants belonging to the pentandria class, and in the
natural method ranking under the 21st order, Precice.
See Botany Index.
SAMOS, in Ancient Geography, an island at no great
distance from the promontory Mycale, on the continent
of the Hither Asia, and opposite to Ephesus ; the dis¬
tance only seven stadia(Strabo); a free island, in com¬
pass 87 miles (Pliny); or 100(Isodorus); with a cog-
nominal town ( Ptolemy, Horace) ; famous for the wor¬
ship and a temple of Juno, with a noted asylum ( Virgil,
Strabo, Tacitus); and hence their coin exhibited a
peacock (Athenasus): The country of Pythagoras, who,
to avoid the oppression of tyrants, retired to Italy, the
land of freedom. Samos, though not so happy in pro¬
ducing wine, which Strabo wonders at. all the adjoin¬
ing islands yielding a generous sort, yet abounds in
all the necessaries of life. The Vasa Sarnia, among
earthenware, were held in high repute. SaimV, the peo-
t 3 P pie
SAM [ 482 ] SAN
Samos, p]e (Ovid).—The island is now in the hands of the
Sampan, 'j'urks. It is about 32 miles in length, and 22 in
breadth, and extremely fertile. The inhabitants live
at their ease, their taxation by the Turks being mo¬
derate. The women are very nasty and ugly, and
they never shift above once a month. They are cloth¬
ed in the Turkish manner, except a red coif, and
their hair hanging down their backs, with plates of
silver or block-tin fastened to the ends.—They have
abundance of melons, lentils, kidney-beans, and excel¬
lent muskadine grapes. They have white figs four
times as big as the common sort, but not so well tast¬
ed. Their silk is very fine, and their honey and wax
admirable; besides which, their poultry are excel¬
lent : They have iron mines, and most of the soil is
of a rusty colour : they have also emery stone, and all
the mountains are of white marble. The inhabitants
are about 12,000, who are almost all Greeks; and the
monks and priests occupy most part of the island.
They have a bishop who resides at Cora. See Poly¬
crates.
Osbec's Voy- SAMPAN, is a Chinese boat without a keel, look-
age to Chi- ;ng almost like a trough ; they are made of different
ifiastlndies dimensions, but are mostly covered. These boats are
6 as long as sloops, but broader, almost like a baking
trough ; and have at the end one or more decks of
bamboo sticks : the cover or i*oof is made of bamboo
sticks, arched over in the shape of a grater ; and may
be raised or lowered at pleasure : the sides are made
of boards, with little holes, with shutters instead of
windows: the boards are fastened on both sides to
posts, which have notches like steps on the inside, that
the roof may be let down, and rest on them : on both
ends of the deck are commonly two little doors, at least
there is one at the hindmost end. A fine white smooth
carpet, spread up as far as the boards, makes the floor,
which in the middle consists of loose boards ; but this
carpet is only made use of to sleep on. As these boats
greatly differ from ours in shape, they are likewise
rowed in a different manner: for two rowers, posting
themselves at the back end of the sampan, work it
forwards very readily by the motion of two oars ; and
can almost turn the vessel just as they please: the
oars, which are covered with a little hollow quadran¬
gular iron, are laid on iron swivels, which are fastened
in the sides of the sampan: at the iron the oars are
pierced, which makes them look a little bent: in com¬
mon, a rower sits before with a short oar ; but this he
is forced to lay aside when he comes near the city, on
account of the great throng of sampans; and this in¬
convenience has confirmed the Chinese in their old
way of rowing. Instead of pitch, they make use of
a cement like our putty, which we call chinam, but
the Chinese call it kiang. Some authors say that this
cement is made of lime and a resin exuding from the
tree tong yea, and bamboo ockam.
Besides a couple of chairs, they have the following
furniture : two oblong tables or boards on which some
Chinese characters are drawn ; a lanthorn for the
night time, and a pot to boil rice in. They have also
a little cover for their household god, decorated with
gilt paper and other ornaments : before him stands a
pot filled with ashes, into which the tapers are put be¬
fore the idol. The candles are nothing else than bam¬
boo chips, to the upper end of which saw* dust of san¬
dal-wood is stuck on with gum. These tapers are e- Sampan
verywhere lighted before the idols in the pagodas, II
and before the doors in the streets ; and, in large ci- Sana'
ties, occasion a smoke very pernicious to the eyes.
Before this idol stands some samso, or Chinese brandy,
water, &c. We ought to try whether the Chinese
would not like to use juniper-wood instead of sandal¬
wood ; which latter comes from Suratte, and has al¬
most the same smell with juniper.
SAMSON, one of the judges of Israel, memorable
for his supernatural strength, his victories over the
Philistines, and his tragical end, as related in the
book of Judges.
Samson’s Post, a sort of pillar erected in a ship’s
hold, between tbe lower deck and the kelson, under
the edge of a hatchway, and furnished with several
notches that serve as steps to mount or descend, as
occasion requires. This post being firmly driven into
its place, not only serves to support the beam and
fortify the vessel in that place, but also to prevent
the cargo or materials contained in the hold, from
shifting to the opposite side, by the rolling of the
ship in a turbulent and heavy sea.
Books of SAMUEL, two canonical books of the
Old Testament, as being usually ascribed to the pro¬
phet Samuel.
The books of Samuel and the books of Kings are
a continued history of the reigns of the kings of Israel
and Judah; for which reason the books of Samuel
are likewise styled the first and second books of Kings.
Since the first 24 chapters contain all that relates to
the History of Samuel, and the latter part of the first
book and all the second include the relation of events
that happened after the death of that prophet, it has
been supposed that Samuel was author only of the
first 24 chapters, and that tht- prophets Gad and Na¬
than finished the work. The first book of Samuel
comprehends the transactions under the government
of Eli and Samuel, and under Saul the first king;
and also the acts of David while he lived under Saul;
and is supposed to contain the space of 101 years.
The scond book contains the history of about 40
years, and is wholly spent in relating the transac¬
tions of David’s reign.
SAMYD A, a genus of plants belonging to the de*
Candida class ; and in the natural method ranking with
those of which the order is doubtful. See Botany
Index
SANA, or Sanaa, a large, populous, and handsome jv%Wr
town of Asia, capital of A rabia Felix, is situated in Travels
Proper Yemen, at the foot of Mount Nikkum, onHer01i'
which are still to be seen the ruins of a castle, which
the Arabs suppose to have been buiit by Shem. Near
this mountain stands the castle; a rivulet runs upon the
other side; ar d near it is the Bustan el Metwokkel, a
spacious garden, which was laid out by Imam Metwok¬
kel, and has been embeliished with a fine garden by the
reigning imam. The walls of the city, which are built
of bricks, exclude this garden, which is inclosed with¬
in a wall of its own. The city, properly so called, is
not very extensive : one may walk round it all in an
hour. The city-gates are seven. Here are a number
of mosques, some of which have been built by Turkish
pacha' . Sana has the appearance of being more po¬
pulous than it actually is; for the gardens occupy a part
of
Sana
SAN [ 483 ] SAN
Sana, of the space within the walls. In Sana are only 12
public baths; but many noble palaces, three of the
most splendid of which have been built by the reign¬
ing imam. The palace of the late imam El Manzor,
with some others, belong to the royal family, who are
very numerous.
The Arabian palaces are built in a style of archi¬
tecture different from ours. The materials are, how¬
ever, burnt bricks, and sometimes even hewn stones ;
but the houses of the common people are of bricks
which have been dried in the sun. There are no glass
windows, except in one palace, near the citadel. The
rest of the houses have, instead of windows, merely
shutters, which are opened in fair weather, and shut
when it is foul. In the last case, the house is lighted
by a round wicket, fitted with a piece of Muscovy
glass ; some of the Arabians use small panes of stain¬
ed glass from Venice.
At Sana, and in the other cities of the East, are
great simseras or caravanseras for merchants and tra¬
vellers. Each different commodity is sold in a sepa¬
rate market. In the market for bread, none but wo¬
men are to be seen; and their little shops are port¬
able. The several classes of mechanics work, in the
same manner, in particular quarters in the open street.
Writers go about with their desks, and make out
brieves, copy-books, and instruct scholars in the art
of writing, all at the same time. There is one mar¬
ket where old clothes are taken in exchange for new.
Wood for the carpenter’s purpose is extremely dear
through Yemen; and wood for the fire at Sana is no
less so. All the hills near the city are bleak and
bare, and wood is therefore to be brought hither from
the distance of three days’ journey; and a camel’s
burthen commonly costs two crowns. This scarcity
of wood is partially supplied by the use of a little pit-
coal. Peats are burnt here; but they are so bad,
that straw must be intermixed to make them burn.
Fruits are, however, very plenteous at Sana. Here
are more than 20 different species of grapes, which, as
they do not all ripen at the same time, continue to
afford a delicious refreshment for several months.
The Arabs likewise preserve grapes, by hanging them
up in their cellars, and eat them almost through the
whole year. The Jews make a little wine, and might
make more if the Arabs were not such enemies to
strong liquors. A Jew convicted of conveying wine
into an Arab’s house is severely punished; nay, the
Jews must even use great caution in buying and sell¬
ing it among themselves. Great quantities of grapes
are dried here; and the exportation of raisins from
Sana is considerable. One sort of these grapes is
without stones, and contains only a soft grain, the pre¬
sence of which is not perceptible in eating the raisin.
In the castle, which stands on a hill, are two palaces.
“ I saw (says Niebuhr) about it some ruins of old build¬
ings, but, notwithstanding the antiquity of the place,
no remarkable inscriptions. There is the mint, and a
range of prisons for persons of different ranks. The
reigning imam resides in the city; but several princes
of the blood-royal live in the castle. The battery is
the most elevated place about these buildings; and
there I met with what I had no expectation of, a
German mortar, with this inscription, Jorg Selos Gos-
mck, 1513. I saw also upon the same battery seven
iron cannons, partly buried in the sand, and partly
set upon broken carriages. These seven small can¬
nons, with six others near the gates, which are fired
to announce the return of the different festivals, are
all the artillery of the capital of Yemen.”
SANADON, Noel Etienne, a Jesuit, was born
at Rouen in 1676, and was a distinguished professor
of humanity at Caen. He there became acquainted
with Huet, bishop of Avranches, whose taste for lite¬
rature and poetry was similar to his own. Sanadon
afterwards taught rhetoric at the university of Paris,
and was entrusted with the education of the prince of
Conti, after the death of Du Morceau. In 1728 he
was made librarian to Louis XIV, an office which he
retained to his death. He died on the 21st Septem-
tember 1733, in the 58th year of his age.
His works are, 1. Latin Poems, in 12mo, 1715,
and reprinted by Barbou, in 8vo, 1754-. His style
possesses the graces of the Augustan age. His lan¬
guage is pure and nervous ; his verses are harmonious,
and his thoughts are delicate and well chosen ; but
sometimes his imagination flags. His Latin poems
consist of Odes, Elegies, Epigrams, and others, on va¬
rious subjects. 2. A translation of Horace, with Re¬
marks, in 2 vols. 4to, printed at Paris in 1727 ; but
the best edition of this work was printed at Amsterdam
in 1735, in 8 vols. 12mo, in which are also inserted the
versions and notes of M. Dacier. Sanadon translated
with elegance and taste ; but he has not preserved the
sublimity of the original in the odes, nor the energy
and precision in the epistles and satires. In general,
his version is rather a paraphrase than a faithful trans¬
lation. Learned men have justly censured him for
the liberty which he has taken in making consider¬
able changes in the order and structure of the odes.
He has also given offence by his uncouth orthography.
3. A Collection of Discourses delivered at different
times, which afford strong proofs of his knowledge of
oratory and poetry. 4. A book entitled Prieres et
Instructions Chretiennes.
SAN BALL AT, the chief or governor of the Cu-
thites or Samaritans, was always a great enemy to the
Jews. He was a native of Horon, or Horonaim, a
city beyond Jordan, in the country of the Moabites.
He lived in the time of Nehemiah, who was his great
opponent, and from whose book wre learn his history.
There is one circumstance related of him which has oc¬
casioned some dispute among the learned; and the
state of the question is as follows : When Alexander
the Great came into Phoenicia, and sat down before the
city of Tyre, Sanballat quitted the interests of Darius
king of Persia, and went at the head of 8000 men to
offer his service to Alexander. This prince readily en¬
tertained him, and being much solicited by him, gave
him leave to erect a temple upon Mount Gerizim, where
he constituted his son-in-law Manasseh the high-priest.
But this story carries a flagrant anachronism : for 120
years before this, that is, in the year of the world
3550, Sanballat was governor of Samaria ; wherefore
the learned Dr Prideaux (in his Connexion of the His¬
tories of the Old and New Testament) supposes two
Sanballats, and endeavours to reconcile it to truth and
probability, by showing it to be a mistake of Josephus.
This author makes Sanballat to flourish in the time of
Darius Codomannus, and to build his temple upon
3 P 2 Mount
SAN
Sanbaftat, Mount Gerizim by license from Alexander the Great;
„ Jl . whereas it was performed by leave from Darius No-
S^ncnoma- , • , | ^ • rr^\ * i
tll0 thus, i i the loth j'ear or hrs reign. 11ns takes away
• . - ^ the difficulty-arising from the great age of Sanballat,
and brings him to be cotemporary with Nehemiah, as
the Scripture history requires.
SANCHEZ, FKAN501S, called in Latin Sanctius,
was of Las Brocas in Spain, and has been dignified by
bis own countrymen with the pompous titles of le Pere
de la Langue, Latins, et le Docteur de tons les Gens de
lettres. He wrote, 1. An excellent treatise intitled
Minerva, or de Causis Linguae Latina, which was pub¬
lished at Amsterdam in 17i4, in 8vo. The authors of
the Port-Royal Methods de la Langue Latine have been
much indebted to this work. 2. The Art of Speaking*
and the Method of translating Authors. 3. Several
other learned pieces on grammar. He died in the
year 1600, in his 77th year.
We must be careful to distinguish him from another
Trancois Sanchez, who died at Toulouse in 1632. This
last was a Portuguese physician who settled at Tou¬
louse, and, though a Christian, was born of Jewish
parents. He is said to have been a man of genius and
a philosopher. His works have been collected under
the t itle, of Opera Medico. His juncti sunt tractatus
quidam philosophici non insubtiles. They were printed
at Toulouse in 1636.
SANCHONIATHO, a Phenician philosopher and
historian, who is said to have flourished before the Tro¬
jan war about the time of Semiramis. Of this most
ancient writer, the only remains extant are sundry
fragments of cosmogony, and of the history of the gods
and first mortals, preserved by Eusebius and Theo-
doret; both of whom speak of Sanchoniatho as an ac¬
curate and faithful historian ; and the former adds,
that his work, which was translated by Philo-Byblius
from the Phenician into the Greek language, contains
many things relating to the history of the Jews which
deserve great credit, both because they agree with the
Jewish writers, and because the author received these
particulars from the annals of Hierpmbalus, a priest of
the god Jao.
Several modern, writers,, however, of great learning,
have called in question the very existence of Sanchonia¬
tho, and have contended, with much plausibility, that
the fragments which Eusebius adoptedas genuine upon
the authority of Porphyry,, were forged by that author
or the pretended translator Philo, from enmity to the
Christians, and that the Pagans might have something
to show of equal antiquity with the books of Moses.
These opposite opinions have produced a controversy
that has filled volumes, and of which .our limits would
hardly admit of an abstract. We shall therefore in few
words state what to us appears to be the truth, and refer
such of our. readers as are desirous of fuller information
SAN
to the works of the authors (a) mentioned at the boh Sancbonia-
tom of the page. tl10-
The controversy respecting Sanchoniatho resolves u—-v—
itself into two questions. 1. Was there in reality such
a writer ? 2. Was he of the very remote antiquity
which his translator claims for him ?
That there was- really such a writer, and that the
fragments preserved by Eusebius are indeed parts of his
history, interpolated perhaps by the translator (n), we
are compelled to believe by the following reasons. Eu¬
sebius, who admitted them into his work as authentic,
was one of the most learned men of his age, and a di¬
ligent searcher into antiquity. His conduct at the Ni-
cene council shows, that on every subject bethought for
himself, neither biassed by authority to the one side, nor
carried over by the rage of innovation to the other. He
had better means than any modern writer can have of
satisfying himself with respect to the authenticity of a
very extraordinary work, which had then but lately
been translated into the Greek language, and made
generally known ; and there is nothing in the work it¬
self, or at least in those parts of it which he has pre¬
served, that could induce a wise and good man to ob¬
trude it. upon, the public as genuine, had he himself
suspected it to be spurious. Too many of the Chris¬
tian fathers were indeed very credulous, and ready to
admit the authenticity of writings without duly weigh¬
ing the merits of, their claim ; but then such writings
were always believed to be favourable to the Christian
cause, and inimical to the cause of Paganism. That
no man of common sense could suppose the cosmogony
of Sanchoniatho favourable to the cause of revealed
religion, a farther proof cannot be requisite than what
is furnished by the following extract.
“ He supposeth, or affirms, that the principles of the
universe were a dark and windy air, or a wind made of
dark air, and a turbulent evening chaos ; and that these
things .were boundless, and for a long time had no
bound or figure. But when this wind fell in love with
his own principles, and a mixture was made, that mix**
ture was called desire or cupid
“ This mixture completed, was., the beginning of
the {*T<!rs«s) making of all things. But that wind did
not know its own production ; and of this, with that
wind was begotten Mot, which some call Mua, others
the putrefaction of - a watery mixture. And of this
came a]4 the seed of this.building, and the generation
of the universe.
“ But there- were certain animals, which' had no
sense* out of which were begotten intelligent animals,
and were called Zophesemin, that is, the spies or over¬
seers of Heaven ; and were formed alike in the shape
of an egg. Thus shone out Mot, the sun and-the
moon, the less and the greater stars.
“ And the air shining thoroughly with light, by its
fiery
r 484 ]
(a) Bochart, Scaliger,, Vossius, Cumberland, Dodwrell, Stillirigfleet, Mosheim’s Cudworth, and Warburton.
(b) Of these there are indeed several proofs. Philo makes Sanchoniatho speak, of Byblus as the most an¬
cient city of Phenicia,. which, in all probability, it was not. We read in the book of Judges of Berith or Beryr
tus, the city where Sanchoniatho-himself lived; but not of Byblus, which was the native city of Philo, and to
which he is therefore partial. He makes him likewise talk of the Greeks at a period long before any of the
Grecian states were known or probably peopled.
SAN [ 485 ] S A N‘
iclionia* fiery influence on the sea and earth, winds were begot-
th<* ten, and clouds and great defluxions of the heavenly
" waters. And, when all these things first were parted,
and were separated from their proper place by the heat
of the sun, then all met again in the air, and dash¬
ed against one another, and were broken to pieces ;
whence thunders and lightnings were made : and at
the stroke of these thunders the fore mentioned intel¬
ligent animals were awakened, and frighted with the
sound ; and male and female stirred in the earth and
in the sea : This is the generation of animals.
“ After these things our author (Sanchoniatho)
goes on saying : ‘ These things are written in the Cos¬
mogony ofTaautus, and in his memoirs ; and out of the
conjectures and surer natural signs which his mind
saw, and found out, and wherewith he hath enlight¬
ened us. ’ ”
*! Afterwards declaring the names of the winds, nor/A
and south and the rest, he makes this epilogue. ‘ But
these first men consecrated the plants shooting out ef
the earth, and judged them gods, and worshipped
them ; upon whom they themselves lived, and all their
posterity and all before them : to these they made their
meat and drink offerings. ’ Then he concludes :
* these were the devices of worship agreeing with the
weakness and want of boldness in their minds* ’ ”
Let us suppose Eusebius to have been as weak and
credulous as the darkest monk in the darkest age of
Europe, a supposition which no man will make who
knows any thing of the writings of that eminent histo¬
rian; what could he see in this senseless jargon, which
even a dreaming monk would think of employing in
support of Christianity J Eusebius calls it, and calls it
truly, direct atheism ; but could he imagine that an
ancient system of atheism would contribute so much
to make the Pagans of his age admit as divine revela¬
tions the books of the Old and New Testaments, that
he should be induced to adopt, without examination,
an impudent forgery, not 200 years old, as genuine
remains of the most remote antiquity ?
If this Phenician cosmogony be a fabrication of Por¬
phyry, or of thepretendedtranslator, it mustsurely have
been fabricated for some purpose; butit is impossiblefor
us to conceive what purpose either of these writers could
have intended to serve by forging a system so extrava¬
gantly absurd. Porphyry, though an enemy to the
Christians, was not an atheist, and would never have
thought of making an atheist of him whom he meant
to obtrude upon the world as the rival of Moses. His
ownprincipleswerethoseof the Alexandrian Platonists;
and had he been the forger of the works which bear
the name of Sanchoniatho, instead of the incomprehen¬
sible jargon about dark ivind, evening chaosy Mot, the
overseers of heaven in the shape of an egg, and animation
proceeding from the sound 4f thunder we should doubt¬
less have been amused with refined speculations con¬
cerning the operations of the Demiurgus and the other
persons in the Platonic Triad. See Pcatonism and
Porphyry.
* '&• CriL Father Simon of the oratory imagines * that tire
j. ^ purpose for which the history of Sanchoniatho was
forged, was to support Paganism, by taking from it its
mythology and allegories, which were perpetually ob¬
jected to it by the Christian writers ; but this learned
maatotally mistakes the matter. The primitive Chri¬
stians were too much attached to allegories themselves S^r.oTrfWYr»>-
to rest their objections to Paganism on such a founda- tluv
tion : what they objected to that system was, the immo- ~
ral stories told of the priests. To this the Pagan priests
and philosophers replied, that these stories were only
tnythologic allegories,which veiled all the great truths of
Theology, Ethics, and Physics. The Christians said,
this could not be ; for that the stories of the gods had
a substantial foundation in fact, these gods being only
dead men deified, who, in life, bad like passions and in¬
firmities with other mortals. This then was the objec¬
tion which the forger of the works of Sanchoniatho
had to remove, if he really forged them in support of
Paganism; hut, instead of doing so, he gives the genea¬
logy and history of all the greater gods, and shows, that
they were men deified after death for the exploits, some
of them grossly immoral, which they had performed in
this world. We have elsewhere (Polytheism,; N° 17.) !
given his account of the deification of Chrysor, and Oit-
ranos, and Ge, and Hypsistos, and Math ; but our read¬
ers may not perhaps be ill pleased to accompany him
through the history of Ouranos anti Cronus, two of his
greatest gods ; whence it will appear how little his
writings are calculated to support the tottering cause
of Paganism against the objections which were then
urged to it by the Christian apologists.•-
“ Ouranos (says he), taking thei kingdom of his fa¬
ther, married Ge his sister, and by her had f ur sons ;
Jlus, who is called Cronus ; Betyhis; Dagon, who is Si-
ton, or tb e god of corn ; and Atlas. But by other wives
Ouranos had much issue, wherefore Ge being grieved at
it and jealous, reproached Ouranos, so as they parted
from each other. But Ouranos, though he parted from
her, yet by force invading her,and lying with her when
he listed, went away again ; and he also attempted to
kill the children he had by her. Ge also often defend¬
ed or avenged herself, gathering auxiliary powers unto •
her. But when Cronus came toman’s age, using Her¬
mes Trismegistus as his counsellor and assistant (for he
was his secretary), he opposed his father Ouranos,
avenging his mother. But Cronus had children, Per¬
sephone and Athena ; the former died a virgin, but by
the counsel of the latter Athena, and of Hermes, Cro¬
nus made of iron a scymitar and a spear. Then Her¬
mes, speaking to the assistants of Cronus with enchant¬
ing words, wrought in them a keen desire to fight
against Ouranos in the behalf of Ge; and thus Cronus
warring against Ouranos, drove him out of his kingdom,
and succeeded in the imperial power or office- In the
fight was taken a well-beloved concubine of Ouranos
big with child. - Cronus gave her in marriage to Da-
gon, and she brought forth at his house what she had
in her womb by Ouranos, and called him Demaroon. -
After these things Cronus builds a wall round about
his house, and founds Byblus the first city in Phenicia-
Afterwards Cronus, suspecting his own brother Atlas,
with the advice of Hermes, throwing him into a deep >
hole of the earth, there buried him, and having a sou
called Sadid, he despatched him with his own sword,
having a suspicion of him, and deprived his own son of
life with his own hand. He also cut off the head of
his own daughter, so that all the gods were amazed at
the mind of Cronus. But in process of time, Ouranos •
being in flight, or banishment, sends his daughter A- -
Starte^ with two other sisters Rhea and Dione, to cut
S A N
[ 486 ] SAN
Sandionia- off Cronus by deceit, whom Cronus taking, made wives
of these sisters. Ouranos, understanding this, sent
Eimarmene and More, Fate and Beauty, with other aux¬
iliaries, to war against him : but Cronus, having gained
the affections of these also, kept them with himself.
Moreover, the god Ouranos devised BcEtulia, contriv¬
ing stones that moved as having life. But Cronus be¬
gat on Astarte seven daughters called Titanides or Arte-
mides; and he begat on Rhea seven sons, the youngest
of whom, as soon as he was born, was consecrated a god.
Also by Dione he had daughters, and by Astarte more¬
over two sons, Pothos and Eros, i. e. Cupid and Love.
But Dagon, after he had found out bread corn, and
the plough, was called Zeus Aratrius. To Sydyc, or
the just, one of the Titanides bare Asclepius. Cronus
had also in Percea three sons, 1. Cronus his father’s
namesake. 2. Zeus Belus. S. Apollo. ’’
Is it conceivable, that a writer so acute as Porphyry,
or indeed that any man of common sense, either in his
age or in that of Philo, would forge a book filled with
such stories as these, in order to remove the Christian
objections to the immoral characters of the Pagan divi¬
nities ? The very supposition is impossible to be made.
Nor let any one imagine that Sanchoniatho is here
writing allegorically, and by his tales of Ouranos, and
Ge and Cronus, is only personifying the heaven, the
earth, and time. On the contrary, he assures us, that
Ouranos, or Epigeus, or Autochthon (for he gives him
all these names), was the son of one Eliaun or Hypsistos,
who dwelt about Byblus, and that from him the element
which is over us was called heaven, on account of its
excellent beauty, as the earth was named Ge after his
* ApudEu- sister and wife. And his translator is very angry * with
scb. Prap. Neotoric Greeks, as he calls them, because that
lib.Tt-ap 6.<! ky a great deal of force and straining, they laboured
to turn all the stories of the gods into allegories and
physical discourses. ’’ This proves unanswerably, that
the author of this book, whoever he was, did not mean
to veil the great truths of religion under the cloak of
mythologic allegories; and therefore, if it was forged by
Porphyry in support of Paganism, the forger so far mis¬
took the state of the question between him and his ad¬
versaries, that he contrived a book, which, if admitted
to be ancient, totally overthrew his own cause.
The next thing to be inquired into with respect to
Sanchoniatho is his antiquity. Did he really live and
write at so early a period as Porphyry and Philo pre¬
tend ? We think he did not; and what contributes not
a little to confirm us in our opinion, is that mark of na¬
tional vanity and partiality, common to after-times, in
making thesacred mysteries of his own country original,
and conveyed Irom Phenicia into Egypt- This, how¬
ever, furnishes an additional proof that Porphyry was
not the forger of the work ; for he well knew that the
mysteries had their origin in Egypt (see Mysteries),
and would not have fallen into such a blunder. He is
guiliy, indeed, of a very great anachronism, when he
makes Sanchoniatho contemporary with Semiramis,
and yet pretends that what he writes of the Jews is
compiled from the records of Hierombalus the priest of
the god Jao ; for Bochart has made it appear in the
f Geogr. highest degree probable, j- that Hierombalus or Je-
Sac. p. 2. romb-baal is the Jerub-baal or Gideon of Scripture.
‘^cap2 17*' ^etween die reign of Semiramis and the Trojan war a
period elapsed of near 800 years, whereas Gideon flou¬
rished not above seventy years before the destruction of Sanohont
Troy. But supposing Sanchoniatho to have really con-
suited the records of Gideon, it by no means follows
that he flourished at the same period with that judge of
Israel. He speaks of the building of Tyre as an an¬
cient thing, while our best chronologers ^ place it in} Scalar
the time of Gideon. Indeed, were we certain that any
waitings had been left by that holy man, we should be
obliged to conclude, that a large tract of time had in¬
tervened between the death of their author and their
falling into the hands of Sanchoniatho; for,surely, they
could not, in a short period, have been so completely
corrupted as to give any countenance to his impious
absurdities. His atheistic cosmogony he does not in¬
deed pretend to have got from the annals of the priest
of Jao, but from records which were deposited in his
own town of Berytus by Thoth a Phenician philoso¬
pher, who was afterwards made king of Egypt. But
surely the annals of Gideon, if written by himself, and
preserved pure to the days of Sanchoniatho, must have
contained so many truths of the Mosaic religion, as
must have prevented any man of sense from adopting so
impossible a theory as Thoth’s, though sanctioned by
the greatest name of profane antiquity. Stillingfleet
indeed thinks it most probable that Sanchoniatho be¬
came acquainted with the most remarkable passages of
the life of Jerub-baal from annals written by a Pheni¬
cian pen. He observes, that immediately after the
death of Gideon, the Israelites, with their usual prone¬
ness to idolatry, worshipped Baal-berith, or the idol of
Berytus, the town in which Sanchoniatho lived ; and
from this circumstance he concludes that there must
have been such an intercourse between the Hebrews
and Berytians, that in process of time the latter people
might assume to themselves the Jerub-baal of the for¬
mer, and hand down his actions to posterity as those
of a priest instead of a great commander. All this
may be true ; but if so, it amounts to a demonstration
that the antiquity of Sanchoniatho is not so high by
many ages as that which is claimed for him by Philo
and Porphyry, though he may still be more ancient,
as we think Vossius has proved him to be, * than any* Bell
other profane historian whose writings have come 't
down to us either entire or in fragments. ^
But granting the authenticity of Sanchoniatho’s his¬
tory, what, it may be asked, is the value of his frag¬
ments, that we should be at any trouble to ascertain
whether they be genuine remains of high antiquity, or
the forgeries of a modern impostor? We answer, with
the illustrious Stillingfleet, that though these fragments
contain such absurdities as it would be a disgrace to rea¬
son to suppose credible; though the whole cosmogony
is the grossest sink of atheism; and though many persons
make a figure in the history, whose very existence may
well be doubted ; yet we, who have in our hands the
light of divine revelation, may in this dungeon discover
many excellent relics of ancient tradition, which throw
no feeble light upon many passages of holy scripture, as
they give us the origin and progress of that idolatry
which was so long the opprobrium of human nature.
They furnish too a complete refutation of the extra¬
vagant chronology of the Chaldeans and Egyptians,
and show, if they be genuine, that the world is indeed
not older than it is said to be by Moses. We shall con¬
clude the article by earnestly recommending to our
readers
SAN [ 487 ] 'SAN
% onia- readers an attentive perusal of Cumberland's Sancho-
; l10 NIATBO.
Sa Lary. SANCROFT, William, archbishop of Canterbu-
J " iry was born at Fresingfield in Suffolk in 167 6; and
admitted into Emanuel college, Cambridge, in 1633.
In 1642 he was elected a fellow ; and, for refusing to
take the covenant, was ejected from his fellowship. In
1660 he was chosen one of the university preachers;
and in 1663 u^as nominated to the deanry of York.
In 1664 he was installed dean of St Paul’s. In this
station he set himself with unwearied diligence to re¬
pair the cathedral, till the tire of London in 1666 em¬
ployed his thoughts on the more noble undertaking of
rebuilding it, toward which he gave 1400/. He also
rebuilt the deanry, and improved its revenue. In
1668 he was admitted archdeacon of Canterbury, on
the king’s pre-entation. In 1677, being now prolo
cutor of the convocation, he was unexpectedly ad¬
vanced to the archbishopric of Canterbury. In 1687
he was committed to the Tower, with six other bi-
sh >p>, for presenting a petition to the king against
reudi g the declaration of indulgence. Upon King
James II.’s withdrawing himself, he concurred with
the lo ds in a declaration to the prince of Orange for
a free parliament, and due indulgence to the Protes¬
tant dissenters. But when that prince and his consort
were declared king and queen, his grace refusing to
takf- the oath to rheir majesties, he was suspended and
deprived — H liv 'd in a very private manner till his
death in 1693. His learning, integrity, and piety, made
him an exalted ornament of the church. He published
a volume in 12mo, entitled Modern Politics, taken from
Machiavel, Borgia, and other select authors; Familiar
Letters to Mr North, an 8vo pamphlet; and three of
his sermons were printed together after his death.
SANCTIFICATION, the act of sanctifying, or
rendering a thing holy. The reformed divines define
sanctification to be an act of God’s grace, by which
a person’s desires and affections are alienated from
the world ; and by which he is made to die to sin,
and to iive to righteousness; or, in other words, to
feel an abhorrence of all vice, and a love of religion
and virtue.
SANCTION, the authority given to a judicial act,
by which it becomes legal and authentic.
SANCTORIUS, or Sanctobio, a most ingenious
and learned physician, was professor in the university
of Padua, in the beginning of the 17th century. He
contrived a kind of statical chair, by means of which,
after estimating the aliments received, and the sensi¬
ble discharges, he was enabled to determine with great
exactness the quantity of insensible perspiration, as
well as what kind of victuals and drink increased or
diminished it. On these experiments he erected a
curious system, which he published under the title of
De Medicina Statica; which is translated into Eng¬
lish by Dr Quincy. Sanctorius published several other
treatises, which showed great abilities and learning.
SANCTUARY, among the Jews, also called Sane
turn sanctorum, or Holy of holies, was the holiest and
most retired part of the temple of Jerusalem, in which
the ark of the covenant was preserved, and into which
none but the high-priest was allowed to enter, and
that only once a year, to intercede for the people.
Some distinguish the sanctuary from the sanctum
3
sanctorum, and maintain that the whole temple was Sanctuary,
called the sanctuary. 8u;ul.
To try and examine any thing by the weight of the ~
sanctuary, is to examine it by a just and equal scale ;
because, among the Jews, it was the custom of the
priests to keep stone weights, to serve as standards
for regulating all weights by, though these were not
at all different from the royal or profane weights.
Sanctuary, in the Romish church, is also used for
that part of the church in which the altar is placed,
encompassed with a rail or ballustrade.
Sanctuary, in our ancient customs, the same with
Asylum.
SAND, in Natural History, properly denotes small
particles of siliceous stones. Sands are subject to be
variously blended, both with different substances, as
that of talcs, &c.; and hence, as well as from their
various colours, are subdivided into, 1. White sands,
whether pure or mixed with other arenaceous or he¬
terogeneous particles; of all which there are several
kinds, differing no less in the fineness of their particles
than in the different degrees of colour, from a bright
and shining white, to a brownish, yellowish, greenish,
&c. white. 2. The red and reddish sands, both cure
and impure. 3 The yellow sands, whether pure or
mixed, are also very numerous. 4. The brown »ands,
distinguished in the same manner. 5. The black
sands, of which there are only two varieties, viz. a
fine shining grayish-black sand, and another of a fine
shining reddish-black colour. 6. The green kind : of
which there is only one known species, viz. a coarse
variegated dusky green sand, common in Virginia.
Sand is of great use in the glass manufacture ; a
white kind of sand being employed for making of the
white glass, and a coarse greenish-looking sand for
the green glass.
In agriculture it seems to be the office of sand to ren¬
der unctuous or clayey earths fertile, and fit »o support
vegetables, by making them more open and l" -se.
SjND-Bags, in the ait of war. See Sacks of
Earth.
Sand-Eel. See Ammodytes, Ichthyology Jw-
dex.
SAND-Floods, a name given to the motion of sard so
common in the deserts of Arabia. Mr Bruce gives the
following accurate description of some that he saw in
travelling through that long and dreary desert. ‘ \t
one o’clock (says he) we alighted among some acacia
trees at Waadi el Halboub, having gone twenty-one
miles. We were here at once surprised and terrified by
a sight surely one of the most magnificent in the world.
In that vast expanse of desert from west and to north¬
west of us, we saw a number of prodigious pillars of sand
at different distances, at times moving with great celeri¬
ty. at others stalking on with a majestic slowness; at in¬
tervals we thought they were coming in a few minutes
to overwhelm us ; and small quantities of sand did ac¬
tually more than once reach us. Again they would
retreat so as to be almost out of sight, their tops re..ch-
ing to the very clouds. There the tons often separated
from the bodies; and these, once disjoined, dispersed
in the air, and did not appear more. Sometimes they
were broktn near the middle, as if struck with a large
cannon shot. About qoon they began to advance with
considerable swiftness upon us, the wind being very
strong
S A N [ 48B ] SAN
Strong at north. Eleven of them ranged alongside of
us about the distance of three miles. The greatest
diameter of the largest appeared to me at that distance
as if it would measure ten feet. They retired from
us with a wind at south-east, leaving an impression
upon my mind to which I can give no name, though
surely one ingredient in it was fear, with a consider¬
able deal of wonder and astonishment. Ttwas in vain
to think of flying, the swiftest horse or fastest sailing
ship could be of no use to carry us out of this dan¬
ger ; and the full persuasion of this rivetted me as if
to the spot where I stood, and let the camels gain on
me so much in my state of lameness, that it was with
some difficulty I could overtake them. ”—
“ The sameappearance of movingpillars of sandpre-
sented themselves to us this day, in form and disposition
like those we had seen at Waadi Halboub, only they
seemed to be more in number and less in size. They
came several times in a direction close upon us, that is,
I believe, within less than two miles. They began im¬
mediately after sunrise, like a thick wood, and almost
darkened the sun : his rays shining through them for
near an hour, gave them an appearance of pillars of fire.
Our people now became desperate: the Greek shrieked
out, and said it was the day of judgment; Ismael pro
nounced it to be hell: and the Tucorories, that the
world wasonfire. I asked. Idris, if ever he had before
seen such a sight ? He said he had often seen them as
terrible, though never worse ; but what he feared most
was that extreme redness in the air, which was a sure
presage of the coming of the simoom. ’’ See Simoom.
The flowing of sand, though far from being so tre¬
mendous and hurtful as in A rabia, is of very bad con¬
sequences in this country, as many valuable pieces of
land have thus been entirely lost ; of which we give
the following instances from Air Pennant, together
with a probable means of preventing them in future.
“ 1 have more than once (says he), on the eastern
coasts of Scotland, observed the calamitous state of
several extensive tracts, formerly in a most flourish
ing condition, at present covered with sands, unstable
as those of the deserts of Arabia. The parish of Fur-
vie, in the county of Aberdeen, is now reduced to two
farms, and above 500/. a year lost to the Errol family,
as appears by the oath of the factor in 1600, made
before the court of session, to ascertain the minister’s
salary. Not a vestige is to be seen of any buildings,
unless a fragment of the church.
“ The estate of Coubin, near Forres, is another me¬
lancholy instance. This tract was once worth 300/.
a year, at this time overwhelmed with sand. This
strange inundation was still in motion in 1769, chief
ly when a strong wind prevailed. Its motion is so ra¬
pid, that I have been assured, that an apple-tree has
been so covered with it in one season, that only the
very summit appeared. This distress was brought on
about ninety years ago, and was occasioned by the
cutting down some trees, and pulling up the bent or
star which grew on the sand hills ; which at last gave
rise to the act of 15 George HI. c. 33. to prohibit
the destruction of this useful plant.
“ I beg leave to suggest to the public a possible
means of putting a stop to these destructive ravages.
Providence hath kindly formed this plant to grow only
in pure sand. Mankind was left to make, in after-times,
1
an application of it suitable to their wants. The sand- Sand,
hills, on a portion of the Flintshire shores, in the pa- Sanda!>
i ish of Llanasa, are covered with it naturally, and''■“"V"'
kept firm in their place. The Dutch perhaps owe the
existence of part at least of their country to the sow¬
ing of it on the mobile solum, their sand-banks.
“ My humane and amiable friend, the late Benjamin
Stillingfleet, Esq. recommended the sowing of this plant
on the sandy wilds of Norfolk, that its matted roots
migh prevent the deluges of sand which that country
experiences. It has been already remarked, that where¬
soever this plant grows, the salutary effects are soon ob¬
served to follow. A single plant will fix the sand, and
gather it into a hillock ; these hillocks, by the increase
of vegetation, are formed into larger, till by degrees
a barrier is made often against the encroachments of
the sea ; and might as often prove preventive of the
calamity in question. I cannot, therefore, but recom¬
mend the trial to the inhabitants of many parts of
North Britain. The plant grows in most places near
the sea. and is known to the Highlanders by the name
of mwah; to the English by that of bent-star,mat grass,
or marram. Linnaeus calls it arundo arenaria. The
Dutch call it helm. This plant hath stiff and sharp-
pointed leaves, growing like a rush, a foot and a half
long : the roots both creep and penetrate deeply into
their sandy beds: the stalk bears an ear five or six
inches long,not unlike rye; the seeds are small, brown,
and roundish. By good fortune, as old Gerard ob¬
serves, no cattlewiil eat or touch thisvegetable,allotted
for other purposes, subservient to the use of mankind. ”
SAND-Piper. SeeTniNGA, Ornithology Index.
SAND-Stone, a compound stone, of which there are
numerous varieties, arising not only from a difference
of external appearance, but also in the nature and
proportions of the constituent parts. See Geology
Index.
There is a singular variety of sand-stone, which
consists of small grains of hard quartz which strike
fire with steel united with some micaceous particles.
This variety is flexible and elastic, the flexibility de¬
pending on the micaceous part and softness of the
gluten with which the particles are cemented. This
elastic stone is brought from Brazil. There are also
two tables of white marble, kept in the palace of Bor-
ghese at Rome, which have the same property. But
the sparry particles of their substance, though trans¬
parent, are rather soft, and may be easily separated
by the nail. They effervesce with acids, and there is
a small mixture of minute particles of talc or mica.
Sand-stones are of great use in buildings which are
required to resist ah*, water, and fire. Some of them
are soft in the quarry, hut become hard when expos¬
ed to the air. The loose ones are most useful, but the
solid and hard ones crack in the fire, and take a polish
when used as grindstones. Stones of this kind ought
therefore to be nicely examined before they are em¬
ployed for valuable purposes.
SANDAL, in antiquity, a rich kind of slipper worn
on the feet by the Greek and Roman ladies, made of
gold, silk, or other precious stuff; consisting of a
sole, with an hollow at one extreme to embrace the
ancle, but leaving the upper part of the foot bare.
Sandal, is also used for a shoe or slipper worn by
the pope and other Romish prelates when they officiate.
SAN [ 4S9
an dal, It is also the name of a sort of slipper worn by several
udarach. congregations of reformed monks. This last consists
-v of no more than a mere leathern sole, fastened with
latches or buckles, all the rest of the foot being left
bare. The Capuchins wear sandals ; the Recollects,
clogs; the former are of leather, and the latter of
wood.
Sand/jl-JVood. See Saunders.
SANUARACH, in Natural History, a very beau¬
tiful native fossil, though too often confounded with
the common factitious red arsenic, and with the red
matter formed by melting the common yellow orpi-
ment.
It is a pure substance, of a very even and regular
structure, is throughout of that colour which our dy¬
ers term an orange scarlet, and is considerably trans¬
parent even in the thickest pieces. But though, with
respect to colour, it has the advantage of cinnabar
while in the mass, it is vastly inferior to it when both
are reduced to powder. It is moderately hard, and
remarkably heavy ; and, when exposed to a moderate
heat, melts and flows like oil: if set on fire, it burns
very briskly.
It is found in Saxony and Bohemia, in the copper
and silver mines; and is sold to the painters, who find
it a very fine and valuable red : but its virtues or qua¬
lities in medicine are no more ascertained at this time
than those of the yellow orpiment.
Gmu-Sandarach, is a dry hard resin, usually in the
form of loose granules, of the size of a pea, a horse-bean,
or larger; of a pale whitish, yellow colour, transparent,
and of a resinous smell, brittle, very inflammable, of an
acrid and aromatic taste, and diffusing a very pleasant
smell when burning. It was long the prevailing opinion
that this gum was obtained from the juniper us commu¬
nis; but this plant does not grow in Africa, in which
country only sandarach is produced ; for the gum san-
darach of the shops is brought from the southern pro¬
vinces of the kingdom of Morocco. About six or seven
hundred quintals of it are exported every year from
Santa Cruz, Mogador, and Saffy. In the language of
the country it is called elgrassa. The tree which pro¬
duces it is a Thuia, found also by M. Vahl in the king
dom of Tunis. It was made known several years ago
by Dr Shaw, who named it Cypressus fructu quadrival-
vi, Equiseti instar articulatis ; but neither of these learn¬
ed men was acquainted with the economical use of this
tree ; probably because, being not common in the
northern part of Barbary, the inhabitants find little ad¬
vantage in collecting the resin which exudes from it.
M. Schousboe (a), who saw the species of thuia in
question, says that it does not rise to more than the
height of 20 or 30 feet at most, and that the diameter
of its trunk does not exceed ten or twelve inches. It
distinguishes itself, on the first view, from the two other
species of the same genus, cultivated in gardens, by hav¬
ing a very distinct trunk, and the figure of a real tree;
whereas in the latter the branches rise from the root,
which gives them the appearance rather of bushes. Its
branches also are more articulated and brittle. Its
flowers, which are not very apparent, show themselves
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
] SAN
in April; and the fruit, which are of a spherical form, Sandarach
ripen in September. When a branch of this tree is „ jl
held to the light, it appears to be interspersed with a niaST'
multitude of transparent vesicles which contain the re- ,
sin. When these vesicles burst in the summer months,
a resinous juice exudes from the trunk and branches, as
is the case in other coniferous trees. This resin is the
sandarach, which is collected by the inhabitants of the
country, and carried to the ports, from which it is trans¬
ported to Europe. It is employed in making some
kinds of sealing-wax, and in different sorts of varnish.
In 1793 a hundred weight of it cost in Morocco from
13 to 13| piastres, which make from about 3/. 5s. to
3/. 7s. 6d. sterling. The duty on exportation was
about 7s. 6d. sterling per quintal.
Sandarach, to be good, must be of a bright yellow co¬
lour, pure and transparent. It is an article very difficult
to be adulterated. Care, however, must be taken, that
the Moors do not mix with it too much sand. It is
probable that a tree of the same kind produces the gum
sandarach of Senegal, which is exported in pretty con¬
siderable quantities.
Pounded Sandarach. See Pounce.
SANDEMANIANS, in ecclesiastical history, a mo¬
dern sect that originated in Scotland about the year
1728; where it is at this time distinguished by the name
of Glassites, after its founder Mr John Glass, who was a
minister of the established church in that kingdom; but
being charged wr'th a design of subverting the national
covenant, and sapping the foundation of all national
establishments by the kirk judicatory, was expelled by
the synod from the church of Scotland. His sentiments
are fully explained in a tract published at that time,
intitled, ” The Testimony of the King of Martyrs, ”
and preserved in the first volume of his works. In con¬
sequence of Mr Glass’s expulsion, his adherents formed
themselves into churches, conformable in their institution
and discipline to what they apprehended to be the plan
of the first churches recorded in the New Testament.
Soon after the year 1755, Mr Robert Sandeman, art
elder in one of these churches in Scotland, published a
series of letters addressed to Mr Hervey, occasioned by
his Theron and Aspasio; in which he endeavours to
show, that his notion of faith is contradictory to the
scripture account of it, and could only serve to lead
men, professedly holding the doctrines commonly called
Calvinistic, to establish their own righteousness upon
their frames, inward feelings, and various acts of faith.
In these letters Mr Sandeman attempts to prove, that
faith is neither more nor less than a simple assent to the
divine testimony concerning Jesus Christ, recorded in
the New Testament; and he maintains, that the word
Jaith, or belief is constantly used by the apostles to sig¬
nify what is denoted by it in common discourse, viz. a
persuasion of the truth of any proposition, and that there
is no difference between believing any common testimo¬
ny, and believing the apostolic testimony, except that
which results from the nature of the testimony itself.
This led the way to a controversy among those who
were called Calvinists, concerning the nature of justify¬
ing faith ; and those who adopted Mr Sandeman’s no-
f 3 Q tion
(a) Phys. Med. and Econom. Library, (a Danish Journal) for 1799.
/ '
SAN f 490 ] S vV N
■Sarnkma- tlon of it, and who took the denomination of Sandema-
n5*ns nians, formed themselves into church order, in strict
ISamlori- fellowship with the churches in Scotland, but holding
cum. no kind of communion with other churches. The chiel
—v—opinions and practices in which this sect differs from
other Christians, are, their weekly administration of the
Lord’s Supper ; their love-feasts, of which every mem¬
ber is not only allowed but required to partake, and
which consist of their dining together at each other’s
houses in the interval between the morning and after¬
noon service; their kiss of charity used on this occasion,
at the admission of a new member, and at other times,
when they deem it to be necessary or proper *, their
Mreekly collection before the Lord’s Supper, for the sup¬
port of the poor, and defraying other expenses; mutual
exhortation ; abstinence from blood and things strang¬
led; washing each other’s feet, the precept concerning
which, as well as other precepts, they understand lite¬
rally ; community of goods, so far as that every one is
to consider all that he has in his possession and power as
liable to the calls of the poor and church; and the un¬
lawfulness of laying up treasures on earth, by setting
them apart for any distant, future, and uncertain use.
They allow of public and private diversions, so far as
they are not connected with circumstances really sinful;
but apprehending a lot to be sacred, disapprove of play¬
ing at cards, dice, &c. They maintain a plurality of
elders, pastors, or bishops, in each church; and the ne¬
cessity of the presence of two elders in every act of dis¬
cipline, and at the administration of the Lord’s Supper.
In the choice of these elders, want of learning, and
engagements in trade, &c. are no sufficient objection ;
but second marriages disqualify for the office; and they
are ordained by prayer and fasting, imposition of hands,
and giving the right hand of fellowship. In their dis¬
cipline they are strict and severe; and think themselves
obliged to separate from the communion and worship of
all such religious societies as appear to them not to pro¬
fess the simple truth for their only ground of hope, and
who do not walk in obedience to it. We shall only
add, that in every church transaction, they esteem un¬
animity to be absolutely necessary. From this abstract
of the account which they have published of their
tenets and practices, it does not seem to be probable
that their number should be very considerable.
SANDERS, a dye wood. See Saunders.
SANDIVER, an old name for a whitish substance
which is thrown up from the metal, as it is called, of
which glass is made ; and, swimming on its surface,
is skimmed off.
Sandiver is also plentifully ejected from volcanoes ;
some is of a fine white, and others tinged bluish or
yellow.
Sandiver is said to be detergent, and good for foul¬
nesses of the skin. It is also used by gilders of iron.
SANDIX, a kind of minium, or red lead, made of
ceruse, but much inferior to the true minium.
SANDOMIR, a city, the capital of a palatinate of
the same name, in Austrian Poland, on the Vistula.
The Swedes blew up the castle in 1656 ; and here, in
1659, was a dreadful battle between the Tartars and
Russians. It is SI miles south-east of Cracow. Lat.
49. 26. Long. 20. 10.
S ANDORICUM, a genus of plants belonging to the
4-
. ■rrL-'"-
decandria class; and in the natural method ranking un- Sandori
der the 23d order, Trihilatcc. See Botany Index. cum
SANDPIT, or Sanpoo, the vulgar name of a river gajj(|s
in the East Indies, which is one of the largest in the ■
world ; but it is better known by that of Burrampooter.
Of this most majestic body of waters we have the fol¬
lowing very animated account in Maurice’s Indian An¬
tiquities. “ An object equally novel and grand now
claims our attention ; so novel, as not to have been
known to Europeans in the real extent of its magnifi¬
cence before the year 1765, and so awfully grand, that
the astonished geographer, thinking the language of
prose inadequate to convey his conception, has had
recourse to the more expressive and energetic lan¬
guage of poetry : but
 scarce the Muse herself
Dares stretch her wing o’er this enormous mass
Of rushing waters ; to whose dread expanse,
Continuous depth, and wond’rous length of course,
Our floods are rills.
“ This stupendous object is the Burrampooter, a word
which in Shanscrit signifies the son of- Brahma ; for no
meaner origin could.be assigned to so wonderful a pro¬
geny. This supreme monarch of Indian rivers derives
its source from the opposite side of the .same mountain
from which the Ganges springs, and taking a bold
sweep towards the east, in a line directly opposite to the
course of that river, washes the vast country of Tibet,
where, by way of distinction, it is denominated Sanpoo,
or the river. Winding with a rapid current through
Tibet, and, for many a league, amidst dreary deserts
and regions remote from the habitations of men, it wa¬
ters the borders of the territory of Lassa, the residence
of the grand Lama; and then deviating with a come¬
tary irregularity, from an east to a south-east course,
the might y xvandefer approaches within 200 miles of the
western frontiers of the vast empire of China. From
this point its more direct path to the ocean lay through
the gulf of Siam ; but with a desultory course peculiar
to itself, it suddenly turns to the west through Assam,
and enters Bengal on the north-east quarter. Circling
round the western point of the Garrow mountains, the
Burrampooter now takes a southern direction ; and for
60 miles before it meets the Ganges, its sister in point
of origin, but not its rival in point of magnitude, glides
majestically along in a stream which is regularly from
four to five miles wide, and, but for its freshness, Mr
Rennel says, might pass for an arm of the sea. About
40 miles from the ocean these mighty rivers unite their
streams ; but that gentleman is of opinion that their
junction was formerly higher up, and that the accumu¬
lation of two such vast bodies of water, scooped out the
amazing bed of the Megna lake. Their present con¬
flux is below Luckipoor; and by that confluence a body
of fresh running water is produced, hardly equalled, and
not exceeded, either in the old or the new hemisphere.
So stupendous is that body of water, that it has formed
a gulf of such extent as to contain islands that rival our
Isle of Wight in size and fertility ; and with such re¬
sistless violence does it rush into the ocean, that in
the rainy season the sea itself, or at least its surface,
is perfectly fresh for many leagues out. ”
SANDS, Goodwin, or Godwin, are dangerous sand
banks
SAN [491
Sands, banks lying off the coast of Kent in England. See
ludwich. J£ent.
SANDWICH, a town of Kent, and one of the
cinque ports, having the title of an earldom. It con¬
sisted of 1398 houses in 1801, most of them old, and
built with wood, though there are a few new ones built
with brick and flints. The town is walled round, and
also fortified with ditches and ramparts ; but the walls
are much decayed, on account of the harbour being
so choked up with sand that a ship of 100 tons bur¬
then cannot get in. The number of inhabitants, ac-
cording to the census of 1801, was 6506 ; but in the
census for 1811, the number given is 2735, which is
probably an error. E. Long. 1.20. N- Lat. 51.20.
Sandwich Islands, a group of islands in the South
sea, lying near New Ireland, were among the last disco¬
veries of Captain Cook, who so named them in honour
of the earl of Sandwich, under whose administration
these discoveries were made. They consist of 11 islands,
extending in latitude from 18. 54<. to 22.15. N. and in
longitude from 150. 54. to 160. 24. W. They are call¬
ed by the natives Owhyiiee, Mowee, Ranai, Mo-
rotoi, Tahoorowa, Woahoo, Atooi, Neeheeheow,
Oreehoua, Morolinne, and Tahoora, all inhabited ex¬
cept the two last. An account of the most remarkable
of which will be found in their alphabetical order, in
their proper places in this work. The climate of these
islands differs very little from that of the West Indies in
the same latitude, though perhaps more temperate; and
there are no traces of those violent winds and hurricanes,
which render the stormy months in the West Indies so
dreadful. There is also more rain at the Sandwich
isles, where the mountainous parts being generally en¬
veloped in a cloud, successive showers fall in'the inland
parts, with fine weather, and a clear sky, on the sea
shore. Hence it is, that few of those inconveniences, to
which many tropical countries are subject, either from
heat or moisture, are experienced here. The winds, in
the winter months,are generally from east-south-east to
north-east. The vegetable productions are nearly the
same as those of the other islands in this ocean; but the
taro root is here of a superior quality. The bread-fruit
trees thrive not in such abundance as in the rich plains
of Otaheite, but produce double the quantity of fruit.
The sugar-canes are of a very unusual size, some of them
measuring 11 inches and a quarter in circumference, and
having 14 feet eatable. There is also a root of a brown
colour, shaped like a yam, and from six to ten pounds
in weight, the juice of which is very sweet, of a pleasant
taste, and is an excellent substitute for sugar. The
quadrupeds are confined to the three usual sorts, hogs,
dogs, and rats. The fowls are also of the common
sort; and the birds are beautiful and numerous, though
not various. Goats, pigs, and European seeds, were
left by Captain Cook ; but the possession of the goats
soon gave rise to a contest between two districts, in
which the breed was entirely destroyed. The inhabi¬
tants are undoubtedly of the same race that possesses the
islands south of the equator ; and in their persons, lan¬
guage, customs, and manners, approach nearer to the
New Zealanders than to their less distant neighbours,
either of the Society or Friendly Islands. They are in
general about the middle size, and well made ; they
walk very gracefully, run nimbly, and are capable of
bearing very great fatigue. Mirny of both sexes have
J SAN
fine open countenances ; and the women in particular Sajidwidt..
have good eyes and teeth, with a swreetness and sensibi- '—v—
lity of look, that render them very engaging. There is
one peculiarity, characteristic of every part of these
islands, that even in the handsomest faces there is a ful¬
ness of the nostril, without any flatness or spreading of
the nose. They suffer their beards to grow, and wear
their hair after various fashions. The dress of both men
and women nearly resemble those of New Zealand, and
both sexes wear necklaces of small variegated shells.
Tattowing the body is practised by every colony of this
nation. The hands and arms of the women are also
very neatly marked, and they have the singular custom
of tattowing the tip of the t ongue. Like the New Zea¬
landers, they have adopted the method of Jiving toge¬
ther in villages, containing from 100 to 200 houses,
built pretty closely together, without any order, and
having a winding path between them. They are ge¬
nerally flanked, towards the sea, with detached walls,
which are meant both for shelter and defence. These
walls consist of loose stones, and the inabitants are very
dexterous in shifting them suddenly to such places as
the direction of the attack may require. In the sides of
the hills, or surrounding eminences, they have also ultle
holes, or caves, the entrance to which is also secured
by a fence of the same kind. They serve for places of
retreat in cases of extremity, and may be defended by
a single person against several assailants. Their houses
are of different sizes, some of them being large and com¬
modious, from 40 to 50 feet long, and from 20 to 30
broad ; while others are mere hovels. The food of I he
lower class consists principally offish and vegetables, to
which the people of higher rank add the flesh of dogs
and hogs. The manner of spending their time admits
of little variety. They rise with the sun, and, after en¬
joying the cool of the evening, retire to rest, a few hours
after sunset. The making of canoes, mats, &c. forms
the occupations of the men ; the women are employed
in manufacturing cloth, and the servants are principally
engaged in the plantations and fishing. Their idle hours
are filled up with various amusements, such as dancing
boxing, wrestling, &c. Their agriculture and navi¬
gation bear a great resemblance to those of the. South-
sea islands. Their plantations, which are spread over
the whole sea-coast, consist of the taro, or eddy-root,
and sweet potatoes, with plants of the cloth-trees set in
rows. The bottoms of their canoes are of a single piece
of wood, hollowed out to the thickness of an inch, and
brought to a point at each end. The sides consist of
three boards, each about an inch thick, neatly fitted
and lashed to the bottom part. Some of their double
canoes measure 70 feet in length, three and a half in
depth, and twelve in breadth. Their cordage, fish¬
hooks, and fishing-tackle, differ but little from those of
the other islands. Among their arts must not be forgot¬
ten that of making salt, which they have in great abun¬
dance, and of a good quality. I heir instruments of war
are spears, daggers, clubs, and slings ; and for defen¬
sive armour they wear strong mats, which are not easily
penetrated by such weapons as theirs. As the islands
are not united under one sovereign, wars aie fiequent
among them, which, no doubt, contribute greatly to
reduce the number of inhabitants, which, according to
the proportion assigned to each island, does not exceed
400-000. The. same system of subordination prevails
3 Q 2
here
r
SAN f 492 ] SAN
Sandwich here as at the other islands, the same absolute autho-
e " • rity on the part of the chiefs, and the same unresist-
Ha. ing submission on the part of the people. The go-
l , vprnmpnt. is likewise monarchical and hereditary. At
Owhyhee there is a regular society of priests living by
themselves, and distinct in all respects from the rest
of the people. Human sacrifices are here frequent;
not only at the commencement of a war, or any signal
enterprise, but the death of every considerable chief
calls for a repetition of these horrid rites. Notwith¬
standing the irreparable loss in the death of Captain
Cook, who was here murdered through sudden resent¬
ment and violence, they are acknowledged to be of the
most mild and affectionate disposition. They live in
the utmost harmony and friendship with each other;
and in hospitality to strangers they are not exceeded
even by the inhabitants of the Friendly Islands. Their
natural capacity seems, in no respect, below the com¬
mon standard of mankind; and their improvements in
agriculture, and the perfection of their manufactures,
are certainly adequate to the circumstances of their si¬
tuation, and the natural advantages which they enjoy.
SANDYS, Sir Edwin, second son of Dr Edwin
Sandys, archbishop of York, was born about 1561, and
educated at Oxford under Mr Richard Hooker, author
of the Ecclesiastical Polity. In 1581 he was collated
to a prebend in the cathedral of York. He travelled
into foreign countries ; and, upon his return, grew fa¬
mous for learning, prudence, and virtue. While he was
at Paris, he drew up a tract, published under the title
of Europce Speculum. In 1602, he resigned his pre¬
bend ; and, the year following, was knighted by King
James I., who employed him in several important affairs.
He was dexterous in any great employment, and a
good patriot. However, opposing the court with vi¬
gour in the parliament field in 1621, he, with Mr Sel-
den, was committed to custody for a month. He died
in 1629, having bequeathed 1500/. to the university of
Oxford, for the endowment of a metaphysical lecture.
Sandys, George, brother of the foregoing Sir Ed¬
win, and youngest son of Archbishop Sandys, was born
in 1577. He was a very accomplished man; tra¬
velled over several parts of Europe and the East; and
published a relation of his journey in folio, in 1615.
He made an elegant translation of Ovid’s Metamor¬
phoses ; and composed some poetical pieces of his own,
that were greatly admired in the times of their being
written. He also paraphrased the Psalms ; and has
left behind him a Translation, with notes, of one Sa¬
cred Drama, written originally by Grotius, under the
title of Christus Fattens; on which, and Adamus Exul,
and Masenius, is founded Lauder’s impudent charge
of plagiarism against our immortal Milton. Our au¬
thor became one of the privy chamber to Charles I.,
and died in 1643.
SAN Fernando, near the entrance of the Golfo
Dolce, in the Bay of Honduras, in 15 degrees 18 mi¬
nutes north latitude, has lately been fortified by the
Spaniards, for the purpose of checking the Musquito-
men, logwood-cutters, and bay-men. It is a very
good harbour, with safe anchorage from the north and
east winds, in eight fathoms water.
SANGUIFICATION, in the animal ceconomy, the
conversion of the chyle into true blood. See Blood.
SANGUINARIA, Blood-wort, a genus of plants
belonging to the polyandria class, and in the natural Sanguim
method ranking under the 27th order, Rhaadea. See ria
Botany Index. The Indians paint themselves yellow A .
with the juice of these plants. , an 6
SANGUISORBA, Greater wild Burnet, a *
genus of plants, belonging to the tetrandria class, and
in the natural method ranking under the 54th order,
Miscellnnece. See Botany Index. The cultivation
of this plant has been greatly recommended as food for
cattle. See Burnet, Agriculture Index.
SANHEDRIM, or Sanhedrin, from the Greek
word which signifies a council or assembly of
persons sitting together, was the name whereby the
Jews called the great council of the nation, assembled
in an apartment of the temple of Jerusalem to deter¬
mine the most important affairs both of their church
and state. This council consisted of seventy senators.
The room they met in was a rotunda, half of which
was built without the temple, and half within ; that is,
one semicircle was within the compass of the temple;
the other semicircle, they tell us, was built without,
for the senators to sit in; it being unlawful for any
one to sit down in the temple. The Nasi, or prince
of the sanhedrim, sat upon a throne at the end of
the hall, having his deputy at his right hand, and his
sub-deputy on his left. The other senators were
ranged in order on each side.
The rabbins pretend, that the sanhedrim has always
subsisted in their nation from the time of Moses down
to the destruction of the temple by the Romans. They
date the establishment of it from what happened in the
wilderness, some time after the people departed from
Sinai (Numb. xi. 16.), in the year of the world 2514.
Moses, being discouraged by the continual murmurings
of the Israelites, addressed himself to God, and desir¬
ed to be relieved, at least, from some part of the bur¬
den of the government. Then the Lord said to him,
“ Gather unto me 70 men of the elders of Israel, whom
thou knowest to be the elders of the people, arid offi¬
cers over them; and bring them unto the tabernacle
of the congregation, that they may stand there with
thee: And I will come down and talk with thee there;
and I will take of the spirit which is upon thee, and
will put it upon them ; and they shall bear the burden
of the people with thee, that thou bear it not thyself
alone. ” The Lord, therefore, poured out his spirit
upon these men, who began at that time to prophesy,
and have not ceased from that time. The sanhedrim
was composed of 70 counsellors, or rather 72, six out
of each tribe; and Moses, as president, made up the
number 73. To prove the uninterrupted succession of
the judges of the sanhedrim, there is nothing unat¬
tempted by the partisans of this opinion. They find a
proof where others cannot so much as perceive any ap¬
pearance or shadow of it. Grotius may be consulted
in many places of his commentaries, and in his first
book Ee jure belli et pads, c. 3. art. 20. and Selden de
Synedriis veterum Hebrceorum. Also, Calmet’s Dis¬
sertation concerning the polity of the ancient Hebrews,
printed before his Comment upon the Book of Num¬
bers.
As to the personal qualifications of the judges of this
bench, their birth was to be untainted. They were
often taken from the race of the priests or Levites, or
out of the number of the inferior judges, or from the
lesser
SAN f 493 ] SAN
ihedrim.lesser sanhedrim, which consisted only of 23 judges.—
They were to be skilful in the law, as well traditional as
written. They were obliged to study magic, divination,
fortune-teliing, physic, astrology, arithmetic, and lan¬
guages. The Jews say, they were to know to the num¬
ber of 70 tongues ; that is, they were to know all the
tongues, for the Hebrews acknowledged but 70 in all,
and perhaps this is too great a number. Eunuchs were
excluded from the sanhedrim becsuse of their cruelty,
usurers, decrepid persons, players at games of chance,
such as had any bodily deformities, those that had
brought up pigeons to decoy others to their pigeon-
houses, and those that made a gain of their fruits in
the sabbatical year. Some also exclude the high-priest
and the king, because of their too great power ; but
others will have it, that the kings always presided in
the sanhedrim, while there were any kings in Israel.—
Lastly, it was required, that the members of the san¬
hedrim should be of a mature age, a handsome person,
and of considerable fortune. We speak now, accord¬
ing to the notions of the rabbins, without pretending
to warrant their opinions.
The authority of the great sanhedrim was vastly ex¬
tensive. This council decided such causes as were
brought before it by way of appeal from the inferior
courts. The king, the high-priest, the prophets, were
under its jurisdiction. If the king offended against the
law; for example, if he married above 18 wives, if he
kept too many horses, if he hoarded up too much gold
and silver, the sanhedrim had him stripped and whipped
in their presence. But whipping, they say, among
the Hebrews was not at all ignominious ; and the king
bore this correction by way of penance, and himself
made choice of the person that was to exercise this dis¬
cipline over him. Also the general affairs of the na¬
tion were brought before the sanhedrim. The right of
judging in capital cases belonged to this court, and this
sentence could not be pronounced in any other place,
but in the hall called Laschat-haggazith, or the hall
paved with stones, supposed by some to be the
or pavement, mentioned in John xix. 13. From whence
it came to pass, that the Jews were forced to quit this
hall when the power of life and death was taken out
of their hands, 40 years before the destruction of their
temple, and threeyears before the death of Jesus Christ.
In the time of Moses this council was held at the door
of the tabernacle of the testimony. As soon as the
people were in possession of the land of promise, the
sanhedrim followed the tabernacle. It was kept succes¬
sively at Gilgal, at Shiloh, at Kirjath-jearim, at Nob,
atGibeon in the house of Obed-edom ; and, lastly, it
was settled at Jerusalem, till the Babylonish captivity.
During the captivity it was kept up at Babylon. After
the return from Babylon, it continued at Jerusalem to
the time of the Sicarii, or Assassins. Then finding that
these profligate wretches, whose number increased
every day, sometimes escaped punishment by favour
of the president or judges, it was removed to Hanoth,
which were certain abodes situated, as the rabbins
tell us, upon the mountain of the temple. From
thence they came down into the city of Jerusalem,
withdrawing themselves by degrees from the temple.
Afterwards they removed to Jamia, thence to Jericho,
to Uzzah, to Sepharvaim, to Bethsanim, to Sephoris,
last of all to Tiberias, where they continued to the
3
time of their utter extinction. And this is the ac- Sln}iydrim,
count the Jews themselves give us of the sanhedrim. Saiijacks. ^
But the learned do not agree with them in all this. _v
Father Petau fixes the beginning of the sanhedrim not
till Gabinius was governor of Judea, who, according
to Josephus, erected tribunals in the five principal ci¬
ties of Judea; at Jerusalem, at Gadara, at Amathus,
at Jericho, and at Sephora or Sephoris, a city of Ga¬
lilee. Grotius places the origin of the sanhedrim under
Moses, as the rabbins do; but he makes it determine
at the beginning of Herod’s reign. Mr Basnage at
first thought that the sanhedrim began under Gabinius;
but afterwards he places it under Judas Maccabseus, or
under his brother Jonathan. We see, indeed, under
Jonathan Maccabaeus, (1 Macc. xii. 6.), in the year
3860, that the senate with the high-priest sent an em¬
bassy to the Romans. The Rabbins say, that Alexan¬
der Jannaeus, king of the Jews, of the race of the As-
monaeans, appeared before the sanhedrim, and claimed
a right of sitting there, whether the senators would or
not. Josephus informs us, that when Herod was but
yet governor of Galilee, he was summoned before the
senate, where he appeared. It must be therefore ac¬
knowledged, that the sanhedrim was in being before
the reign of Herod. It was in being afterwards, as we
find from the Gospel and from the Acts. Jesus. Christ
in St Matthew (v. 22.) distinguishes two tribunals.—
“ Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause
shall be in danger of the judgment; ” this, they say,
is the tribunal of the 23 judges. “ And whosoever
shall say to his brother Raca, shall be in danger of the
council; ” that is, of the great sanhedrim, which had
the right of life and death, at least generally, and be¬
fore this right was taken away by the Romans. Some
think that the jurisdiction of the council of 23 extend¬
ed to life and death also ; but it is certain that the
sanhedrim was superior to this council. See also
Mark xiii. 9. xiv. 55. xv. 1.; Luke xxii. 52, 66.;
John xi. 47.; Acts iv. 15. v. 21. where mention is
made of the synedrion or sanhedrim.
From all this it may be concluded, that the origin of
the sanhedrim is involved in uncertainty; for the coun¬
cil of the 70 elders established by Moses was not what
the Hebrews understand by the name of sanhedrim.
Besides, we cannot perceive that this establishment
subsisted either under Joshua, the judges, or the kings.
We find nothing of it after the captivity, till the time
of Jonathan Maccabaeus. The tribunals erected by
Gabinius were very different from the sanhedrim,
which was the supreme court of judicature, and fixed
at Jerusalem; whereas Gabinius established five at
five different cities. Lastly, It is certain that this
senate was in being in the time of Jesus Christ; but
the Jews themselves inform us that they had no longer
then the power of life and death (John xviii. 31.)
SANJACKS, a people inhabiting the Curdistan, or
Persian mountains, subsisting chiefly by plunder, and
the scanty pittance afforded by their own mountainous
country. “ They were much reduced (says Mr Ives)
by the late bashaw Achmet of Bagdad, who pursued
them in person to their subterranean retreats, and de¬
stroyed many by the sword, and carried off great num¬
bers of prisoners, who were sold for slaves. ” Notwith¬
standing this check, in the year 1758, they again be¬
came so daring that they would attack caravans of 700
men,
Santa
Cruz.
SAN
Sapjacks. menj anij sometimes carry all off.
be worshippers of the evil principle
SAN Juan de Puerto Rico, usually called Porto
i Rico, one of the West India islands belonging to Spain,
is situated in about 18. N. Lat. and between 65. 36.
and 67. 45. W. Long, and is about 40 leagues long and
20 broad. The island is beautifully diversified with
woods, valleys, and plains, and is extremely fertile. It
is well watered with springs and rivers, abounds with
meadows, is divided by a ridge of mountains running
from east to west, and has a harbour so spacious that
the largest ships may lie in it with safety. Before the
arrival of the Spaniards it was inhabited by 400,000
or 500,000 people, who, in a few years, were extirpat¬
ed by its merciless conquerors. Raynal says, that its
whole inhabitants amount at present only to 1500 Spa¬
niards, Mestoes, and Mulattoes, and,about 3000 negroes.
Thus one of the finest islands in the West Indies has
been depopulated by the cruelty, and left uncultivated
by the indolence, of its possessors. Bui it is (he ap¬
pointment of Providence, who seldom permits flagrant
crimes to pass unpunished, that poverty and wretched¬
ness should be uniform consequences of oppression.
SANICULA, Sanicle, or Self-heal, a genus of
plants belonging to the pentandria class, and in the
natural method ranking under the 45th order, Umbel¬
late. See Botany Index.
SANIES, in Medicine, a serous putrid matter, is¬
suing from wounds. It difters from pus, which is
thicker and whiter.
SANNxkZARIUS, James, in Latin Aciius Cin-
cenis Sannazarius, a celebrated Latin and Italian poet,
born at Naples in 1458. He by his wit ingratiated
himself into the favour of King Frederic ; and, when
that prince was dethroned, attended him into France,
where he staid with him till his death, which happen¬
ed in 1504. Sannazarius then returned into Italy,
where he applied himself to polite literature, and par¬
ticularly to Latin and Italian poetry. His gay and
facetious humour made him sought for by all compa¬
nies ; but he was so afflicted at the news that Philli-
bert prince of Orange, general of the emperor’s army,
had demolished his country-house, that it threw him
into an illness, of which he died in 1530. It is said,
that being informed a few days before his death, that
the prince of Orange was killed in battle, he called
out, “ I shall die contented, since Mars has punished
this barbarous enemy of the Muses. ” He wrote a
great number of Italian and Latin poems : among those
in Latin, his De Partu Virginia and Eclogues are chief¬
ly esteemed; and the most celebrated of his Italian
pieces is his Arcadia.
SANSANDING, a town in Africa, situated near
the banks of the Niger, in N. Lat. 14° 24', and 2° 23'
W. Long. It is inhabited by Moors and Negroes to
the number of from eight to ten thousand. The Ne¬
groes are kind, hospitable, and credulous ; the Moors
are, at Sansanding, as everywhere else in the interior
parts of Africa, fanatical, bigotted, and cruel.
SANTA Cruz, a large island in the South sea, and
one of the most considerable of those of Solomon,
being about 250 miles in circumference. W. Long.
130.0. S. Lat. 10. 21.
Santa Cruz, or St Croix, a small and unhealthy
island, situated in about 64 degrees west longitude and
[ 494 ]
They are said to 18 north latitude.
S A N
It is about eighteen leagues in Santa
length, and from three to four in breadth. In 1613 <jnjz-!
it was inhabited by Dutch and English, who soon be- 7 ^
came enemies to each other ; and in 1650 were both d
driven out by 1200 Spaniards, who arrived there inthe EnA
five ships. The triumph of these lasted but a fewnnrf ^l
months. The remains of that numerous body, which
were left for the defence of the island, surrenderedp. 293.*
without resistance to 160 French, who had embarked,
in 1651, from St Christopher’s, to make themselves
masters of the island.
These new inhabitants lost no time in making them¬
selves acquainted with a country so much disputed. On
a soil, in other respects excellent, they found only one
river of a moderate size, which, gliding gently almost
on a level with the sea through a flat country, furnished
only a brackish water. Two or three springs, which
they found in the innermost parts of the island, made but
feeble amends for this defect. The wells were for the
most part dry. The construction of reservoirs required
time. Nor was the climate more inviting to the ne\y
inhabitants. The island being flat, and covered with
old trees, scarcely afforded an opportunity for the winds
to carry off the poisonous vapours with wdiich its mo¬
rasses clogged the atmosphere. There was but one re¬
medy for this inconvenience ; which w^as to burn the
woods. The French set fire to them without delay ;
and, getting on board their ships, became spectators
from the sea, for several months, of the conflagration
they had raised in the island. As soon as the flames
were extinguished, they went on shore again.
They found the soil fertile beyond belief. Tobacco,
cotton, arnotto, indigo, and sugar, flourished equally
in it. So rapid was the progress of this colony, that
in 11 years from its commencement there were upon it
822 white persons, with a proportionable number of
slaves. It was rapidly advancing to prosperity, when
such obstacles were thrown in the way of its activity as
made it decline again. This decay was as sudden as its
rise. In 1696 there were no more than 147 men, with
their wives and children, and 623 blacks remaining;
and these were transported to St Domingo.
Some obscure individuals, some writers unacquainted
with the views of government, with their secret nego¬
tiations, with the character of their ministers, with the
interests of the protectors and the protected ; who flat¬
ter themselves that they can discern the reason of events
amongst a multitude of important or frivolous causes,
which may have equally occasioned them; who do not
conceive, that among all these causes the most natural
may possibly be the farthest from the truth ; who after
having read the news, or journal of the day, with pro¬
found attention, decide as peremptorily as if they had
been placed all their lifetime at the helm of the state,
and had assisted at the council of kings; who are never
more deceived than in those circumstances in which they
display some share of penetration; writers as absurd in
the praises as in the blame which they bestow upon na¬
tions, in the favourable or unfavourable opinion they
form of ministerial operations : these idle dreamers, in
a word, who think they are persons of importance, be¬
cause their attention is always engaged on matters of
consequence, being convinced that courts are always
governed in their decisions by the most comprehensive
views of profound policy, have supposed that the court
’ of
SAN [ 495 ] SAN
>anfa of Versailles had neglected Santa Cruz, merely because
Jmz. 11 iey wished to abandon the small islands in order to
"v 1 unite all their strength, industry and population, in the
large ones ; but this is a mistaken notion. This deter¬
mination arose fiom the farmers of the revenue, who
found that the contraband trade of Santa Cruz with
St Thomas was detrimental to their interests. The spi¬
rit of finance hath in all times been injurious to com¬
merce ; it hath destroyed the source from whence it
sprang. Santa Cruz continued without inhabitants, and
without cultivation, till 1733, when it was sold by
France to Denmark for 30,750/. Soon after, the
Danes built there the fortress of Christianstadt. Then
it was that this northern power seemed likely to take
deep root in America. Unfortunately, she laid her
plantations under the yoke of exclusive privileges. In¬
dustrious people of all sects, particularly Moravians,
strove in vain to overcome this great difficulty. Many
attempts were made to reconcile the interests of the co¬
lonists and their oppressors, but without success. The
two parties kept up a continual struggle-, of animosity^,
not of industry. At length the government, with a
moderation not to he expected from its constitution,
purchased, in 1754, the privileges and effects of the
company. The price was fixed at 412,500/. part of
which was paid in ready money, and the remainder in
bills upon the treasury, bearing interest. From this
time the navigation to the islands was opened to all the
subjects of the Danish dominions. Of 345 plantations,
which were seen at Santa Cruz, 150 were covered with
sugar canes, and every habitation is limited to 3000
Danish feet in length, and 2000 in breadth. It is in¬
habited by 2136 white men, by 22,244, slaves, and by
155 freedmen.
Santa Ci'itz, in Teneriffe. See Teneriffe-
Santa Cruz, a town of Africa, on the coast of Bar¬
bary, and in the province of Suez and kingdom of Mo¬
rocco, with a harbour and a fort. The Moors took it
from the Portuguese in 1536. It is seated at the ex¬
tremity of Mount Atlas, on the Cape Aguer. W.
Long. 10. 7. N. Lat. 30.38.
Santa Cruz de la Sierra, a town of South America,
and capital of a province of that name in Peru, and in
the audience of Los Charcas, with a bishop’s see. It
is seated at the foot of a mountain, in a country
abounding in good fruits, on the river Guapy. W.
Long. 59. 35. S. Lat. 20. 40.
Santa Fe de Bogota, a town of South America,
and capital of New Granada, with an archbishop’s see,
a supreme court of justice, and an university.
The city is situated at the foot of a steep and cold
mountain, at the entrance of a vast and superb plain.
In 1774 it contained 1770 houses, 3246 families, and
16,233 inhabitants. Population must necessarily in¬
crease there, sinceitistheseat of government, theplace
where the coin is stricken, the staple of trade; and last¬
ly, since it is the residence of an archbishop, whose im¬
mediate jurisdiction extends over 31 Spanish villages,
which are called fowns ; over 195 Indian colonies, an¬
ciently subdued; and over 28 missions, established in
modern times. This archbishop hath likewise, as me¬
tropolitan , a sort of insp ection over the dioceses of Quito,
of Panama, of Caraccas, of St Martha, and of Cartha-
gena. It is by this last place, though at the distance of
100 leagues, and by the river Magdalena, that Santa
I!e keeps up its communication with Europe. There
are silver mines in the mountains about the city. W. Santa
Long. 60. 5. N. Lat. 3. 58. Cmz-
SANTALUM, a genus of plants belonging to the Santeui],
octandria class; and in the natural method ranking —y—,
with those of which the order is doubtful. See Botany
Index.
SAN PA REN, a handsome town of Portugal, in
Estremadura, seated on a mountain near the river Tajo,
55 miles N. E. from Lisbon, in a country very fertile in
wheat, w ine, and oil. They get in their harvest here
two months after they have sown their corn. It was
taken from the Moors in 1447. The population is esti¬
mated at 8000. W. Long. 8. 48. N. Lat. 39. 15.
SANT AUGUSTINE. See Augustine.
S ANTEN, a town of Germany, in the Prussian ter¬
ritories in Westphalia. It is seated on the Rhine,
15 miles S. E. from Cleves. It has a handsome church
belonging to the Roman Catholics, wherein is an
image of the Virgin Mary, which it is pretended per¬
forms a great many miracles. Here the fine w'alks
begin that run as far as Wesel, from which it is five
miles distant to the north-west. E. Long. 6. 33.
N. Lat. 51. 38.
SANTERRE, the former name of a small territory
of France, in Picardy; bounded on the north by Cam-
bresis, on the east by Vermandois, on the west by Amie-
nois, and on the south by the river Somme. It is very
fertile, and the capital town is Peronne.
SANTEUIL, or rather Santeux, John Baptist
de, in Latin Santolius Victorinus, an excellent Latin
poet, was born at Paris in 1630. Having finished his
studies in Louis the Great’s college, he applied him¬
self entirely to poetry, and celebrated in his verse the
praises of several great men; by which he acquired
universal applause. He enriched Paris with a great
number of inscriptions, which are to be seen on the
public fountains, and the monuments consecrated to
posterity. At length, some new hymns being to be
composed for the Breviary of Paris, Claude Santeuil
his brother, and M. Bossuet, persuaded him to under¬
take that work ; and he succeeded in itwith thegreatest
applause. On which the order of Clugny desiring him
to compose some for their Breviary, he complied with
their request; and that order, out of gratitude, granted
him letters of filiation, with an annual pension. San¬
teuil was caressed by all the learned men of his time ; •
and had for his admirers the two princes of Conde,
the father and son, from whom he frequently received
favours. Louis XIV. also gave him a proof of his
esteem, by bestowing a pension upon him. He at¬
tended the Duke of Bourbon to Dijon, when that
prince went thither in order to hold the states of Bur¬
gundy ; and died there in 1697, as he was preparing
to return to Paris. Besides his Latin hymns, he wrote
a great number of Latin Poems, which have all the fire
and marks of genius discoverable in the works of great
poets.
To Santeuil we are indebted for many fine church-
hymns, as’above mentioned. Santeuil read the verses '
he made for the inhabitants of heaven with all the agi¬
tations of a demoniac. Despreaux said he was the
devil whom God compelled to praise saints. He was
among the number of poets whose genius was as impe¬
tuous as his muse was decent.
La Bruyere has painted the character of this singu--
lar and truly original poet in the md§t‘lively colours.
“ Image
SAN [ 496 ] SAN
Santouil “ Image a man of great felicity of temper, cornplai-
c, II sant and docile, in an instant violent, choleric, passion-
, ate, and capricious. A man simple, credulous, play¬
ful, volatile, puerile; in a word, a child in gray hairs :
but let him collect himself, or rather call forth his in¬
terior genius, I venture to say, without his knowledge
or privacy, what sallies! what elevation! what images !
what latinity ! Do you speak of one and the same per¬
son, you will ask ? Yes, of the same; of Theodas, and
of him alone. He shrieks, he jumps, he rolls upon the
, ground, he roars, he storms ; and in the midst of this
tempest, a flame issues that shines, that rejoices. With¬
out a figure, he rattles like a fool, and thinks like a wise
man. He utters truths in a ridiculous way ; and, in an
idiotic manner, rational and sensible things. It is asto¬
nishing to find good sense disclose itself from the bosom
of buffoonery, accompanied with grimaces and contor¬
tions. What shall I say more ? He does and he says
better than he knows. These are like two souls that
are unacquainted with each other, which have each
their turn and separate functions. ”
SANTILLANE, a sea-port town of Spain, in the
province of Asturias, of which it is the capital. It is
seated on the sea-coast, 55 miles east of Oviedo, and
200 north-west of Madrid. W. Long. 4. 2. N. Lat.
43. 23.
SANTOLINA, Lavender-cotton, a genus of
plants belonging to the syngenesia class ; and in the
natural method ranking under the 49th order, Com-
positce. See Botany Index.
SANTORINI, or Santoriii, an island of the Ar¬
chipelago, to the north of Candia, and distant from it
about 90 leagues, and to the south-west of Nanphio. It
is eight miles in length, and nearly as much in breadth,
and almost covered with pumice stone, whence the soil
in general must be dry and barren : it is, however,
greatly improved by the labour and industry of the in¬
habitants, who have turned it into a garden. It affords
a great deal of barley, plenty of cotton, and large quan¬
tities of wine. Fruit is scarce, except almonds and figs ;
and there is neither oil nor wood. The partridge and
the hare, so common in the other islands of the Ar¬
chipelago, are scarce at Santorin ; but quails are met
with in abundance. The inhabitants are all Greeks,
and are about 10,000 in number. Pyrgos is the capital
town, beside which, there are several little towns and
villages. There is but one spring of water in the island,
for which reason the rain-water is preserved in cisterns.
Though subject to the Turks, they choose their own
magistrates. E. Long. 25. 36. N. Lat. 36. 38.
SANIZO, Raphael. See Raphael.
SAG, a territory, called a kingdom, of Africa, on
the Gold-coast of Guinea, hardly two miles in length
along the shore. It produces abundance of Indian corn,
yams, potatoes, palm-wine, and oil. The inhabitants
are very treacherous, and there is no dealing with them
without great caution. It contains several villages, of
which Sabo is the principal.
SAONE, a considerable river of France, which has
its source in Mount Vosges near Darney, and falls
into the Rhone at Lyons.
Saone, upper, a department in the east of France,
including the sources of the river Saone. The soil is
fertile in grain, hemp, fruits, and vines, and the pastures
are numerous and good. It contains mines of iron,
eoal, and salt. The manufactures are chiefly of ironr
glass, tinware, tiles, paper, and linen ; and there is some Saon
trade in corn, wine, &c. The territorial extent of this J
department is 500,220 hectares. The population in Sap'
1817 was 300,156. The contributions of this depart- r '
ment in 1800 amounted to 2,199,713 francs. Vesoul
is the principal town.
Saone and Loire, a department in the east of
France, forming part of the ancient Burgundy. The
canal of the Centre, which joins the Saone and the
Loire, and is about 60 miles in length, lies chiefly in
this department. The soil of this department is hilly,
but fertile. It produces all kinds of grain, hemp, cat¬
tle, and fruits. Its wines are in high estimation. There
are mines of iron and coal, and some manufactures of
woollens, hosiery, glass, &c. Its territorial extent is
857,678 hectares ; its population in 1817 was 471,457.
The contributions for 1802 amounted to 4,376,459
francs. Macon is the chief town.
SAP, the juice found in vegetables.
We observed, when treating of Plants, that it has
been long disputed whether the sap of plants be ana¬
logous to the blood of animals, and circulates in the
same manner. We also mentioned the conclusions
that Dr Hales drew from his numerous experiments,
which were all in opposition to the doctrine that the
sap circulates.
Dr Walker, late professor of Natural History in the
university of Edinburgh, has published, in the 1st volume
of the Philosophical Transactions of Edinburgh, an ac¬
count of a course of experiments on this subject, ac¬
companied with some observations and conclusions.
It is well known that, in the spring, vegetables con¬
tain a great quantity of sap ; and there are some trees,
as the birch and plane, which, if wounded, will dis¬
charge a great portion of it. Whence is this moisture
derived ? Whether is it imbibed from the atmosphere,
or does it flow from the soil through the roots ? These
are the questions which require first to be answered;
and Dr Walker’s experiments enable us to answer them
with confidence.
He selected a vigorous young birch, 30 feet high
and 26 inches in circumference at the ground. He
bored a hole just above the ground on the 1st of Fe¬
bruary, and cut one of its branches at the extremity.
He repeated this every second day; but no moisture ap¬
peared at either of the places till the 5th of May, when
a small quantity flowed on making an incision near the
ground. He then cut 21 incisions in the trunk of the
tree, on the north side, at the distance of a foot from
one another, and reaching from the ground to the height
of 20 feet. The incisions were solid triangles, each side
being an inch long and an inch deep, and penetrating
through the bark and wood. Dr Walker visited the
tree almost every day for two months, and marked ex¬
actly from which of the incisions the sap flowed. He
observed that it flowed from the lowest incision first,
and gradually ascended to the highest. The following
table will show the progress of the sap upwards, and
its correspondence with the thermometer.
The first column is the day of the month on which
the observation was made ; the second expresses the
number of incisions from which the sap flowed on the
day of the month opposite; and the third column the
degree of the thermometer at noon. Some days are
omitted in March, as the incisions, though made on the
5th, did not bleed till the 11th. Some days are also
passed
SAP
passed over in April, because no observation was made
' on account of rain.
March. N. of In. Tbcr. Noon. March. N. of In. Ther. Noon.
5
11
12
13
n
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
2
2
1
4
5
5
4
5
6
5
7
7
8
9
9
7
8
8
8
46
49
49
44
48
52
47
44
47
48
44
48
45
46
47
42
39
45
49
46
SO
31
April
2
4
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
18
19
20
21
22
8
7
7
10
11
11
12
13
13
13
13
14
14
16
16
17
19
20
21
50
62
46
53
48
48
50
53
45
44
43
55
49
56
50
54
56
54
52
Dr Walker found that the sap ascends through the
wood, and still more copiously between the wood and
thebark; butnonecould beperceivedascendingthrough
the pith or the bark. He found also, that when the
thermometer at noon is about 49, or between 46 and 50,
the sap rises about one foot in 24 hours ; that when
the thermometer is about 45 at noon, it ascends about
one foot in two days ; and that it does not ascend at
all unless the mid-day heat be above 40. He observed
that it moves with more velocity through young than
through old branches. In one young branch it moved
through seven feet in one day, the thermometer being
at 49, while it moved in the trunk of the tree only seven
feet in seven days. Dr Walker has thus explained the
reason why the buds on the extremities of branches un¬
fold first; because they are placed on the youngest
wood, to which the sap flows most abundantly.
The effects produced by the motion of the sap de¬
serve to be attended to. In those parts to which it
has mounted, the bark easily separates from the wood,
and the ligneous circles may, without difficulty, be de¬
tached from one another. The buds begin to swell and
their scales to separate, while those branches to which
the sap has not ascended, remain closely folded. When
the sap has reached the extremities of the branches,
and has thus pervaded the whole plant, it is soon co¬
vered with opening buds, and ceases to bleed. The
bleeding ceases first in the upper parts of the tree,
and in the lower parts successively downwards, and
the wood becomes dry. An inverted branch flows
more copiously when cut than those which are erect.
This is a proof that the ascent of the sap is not occa¬
sioned by capillary attraction ; for water which has
risen in a small glass tube by this attraction will not
descend when the tube is inverted.
It is evident that there is an intimate connexion be¬
tween heat and the ascent of the sap. It did not begin
to flow till the thermometer stood at a certain point:
when it fell below 40, it was arrested in its progress.
Hie south side of the tree, when the sun was bricht,
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
[ 49'7 ] SAP
bled more profusely than the north side ; and at Sun¬
set the incisions at the top ceased to bleed, where it
was exposed most to the cold air, while it still conti- ,
nued to flow from the incisions next to the ground;
the ground retaining its heat longer than the air.
Sap, in sieges, is a trench, or an approach made un¬
der cover, of 10 or 12 feet broad, when the besiegers
come near the place, and the fire from the garrison
grows so dangerous that they are not able to approach
uncovered—There are several sorts of saps ; the sin¬
gle, which has only a single parapet; the double, hav¬
ing one on each side ; and the flying, made writh gabions,
&c. In all saps traverses are left to cover the men.
Sap, or Sapp, in building, as to sap a wail, &c. is
to dig out the ground from beneath it, so as to bring
it down all at once for want of support.
SAPHIES, a kind of charms, consisting of some
scrap of writing, which the Negroes believe capable of
protecting them from all evil. The Moors sell scraps
of the Koran for this purpose; and indeed any piece of
writing may be sold as a saphie; but it would appear that
the Negroes are disposed to place greater confidence
in the saphies of a Christian than in those of a Moor.
M hen Mr Park w7as at Koolikorro, a considerable
town near the Niger, and a great market for salt, his
landlord, hearing that he was a Christian, immediately
thought of procuring a saphie. For this purpose he
brought out his wnlha, or writing board, assuring me
(says our author) that he would dress me a supper of
rice if I would write him a saphie to protect him from
wicked men. The proposal was of too great conse¬
quence to me to be refused; I therefore wrote the
board full, from top to bottom, on both sides ; and my
landlord, to be certain of having the whole force of the
charm, washed the writing from the board into a cala¬
bash with a little water; and having said a few prayers
over it, drank this powerful draught; after which,'lest
a single word should escape, he licked the board until
it w^as quite dry. A saphie writer was a man of too
great consequence to be long concealed : the import¬
ant information was carried to the Dooty, who sent his
son with half a sheet of writing-paper, desiring me to
write him a naphula saphie (a charm to procure wealth).
He brought me as a present, some meal and milk; and
when I had finished the saphie, and read it to him with
an audible voice, he seemed highly satisfied with his
bargain, and promised to bring me in the morning
some milk for my breakfast.
SAPINDUS, the Soap-berry Tree, a genus of
plants belonging to the octandria class ; and in the
natural method ranking under the 23d order, Trihilata.
See Botany Index.
SAPONARIA, Sopewort ; a genus of plants be¬
longing to the decandria class ; and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 22d order, Carytyphyllex. See
Botany Index.
SAPOR, Taste. See Taste, and Anatomy,
N° 139.
SAPOTA plum. See Achras, Botany In¬
dex.
SAPPERS, are soldiers belonging to the royal ar¬
tillery, whose business it is to work at the saps, for which
they have an extraordmar > pay. A brigade of sappers
generally consists of eigln men, divided equally into two
f 3 R parties;
Bap
Sappers.
SAP [ 498 ] S A R
Sappers parties; and whilst one of these parties is advancing
the sap, the other is furnishing the gabions, fascines,
, "P1> 10' , and other necessary implements. They relieve eacli
other alternately.
S A PPH1R A, was the wife of a rich merchant in
Gueldres, and equally distinguished for her beauty and
her virtue. Rhinsauld, a German officer, and gover¬
nor of the town of Gueldres, fell in love with her ; and
not being able to seduce her either by promises or pre¬
sents, he imprisoned her husband, pretending that he
kept up a traitorous correspondence with the enemies
of the state. Sapphira yielded to the passion of the
governor in order to relieve her husband from chains;
but private orders had already been given to put him
to death. His unhappy widow, overwhelmed with
grief, complained to Charles Duke of Burgundy. He
ordered Rhinsauld to marry her, after having made
over to her all his possessions. As soon as the deed
was signed, and the marriage over, Charles command¬
ed him to be put to death. Thus the children of a wi^e
whom he had seduced, and of a husband whom he had
murdered, became lawful heirs to all his wealth.
SAPPHIRE, a species of precious stone, of a blue
colour. See Mineralogy Index.
SAPPHO, a famous poetess of antiquity, who for
her excellence in her art has been called the Tenth
Muse, was born at Mitylene, in the isle of Lesbos, about
610 years before Christ. She was contemporary with
Stesichorus and Alcaeus; which last was her country¬
man, and some think her suitor. A verse of this poet,
in which he insinuates to her his passion, is preserved
in Aristotle, Rhet. lib. i. cap. 9. together with the fair
damsel’s answer.
Alc. I fain to Sappho would a wish impart,
But fear locks up the secret in my heart.
Sap. Thy downcast look, respect, and timid air,
Too plain the nature of thy wish declare.
If lawless, wild, inordinate desire,
Did not with thoughts impure thy bosom fire,
Thy tongue and eyes, by innocence made bold,
Ere now the secret of thy soul had told.
M. le Fevre observes, that Sappho was not in her
usual good humour when she gave so cold an answer
to a request, for which, at another time, perhaps she
would not have waited.—It has been thought, too, that
Anacreon was one of her lovers, and his editor Barnes
has taken some pains to prove it: but chronology will
not admit this; since, upon inquiry, it will be found
that Sappho was probably dead before Anacreon was
born. Of the numerous poems this lady wrote, there
is nothing remaining but some small fragments, which
the ancient scholiasts have cited; a hymn to Venus,
preserved by Dionysius of Halicarnassus; and an ode
* See Toe- to one °f ^!er mistresses; * which last piece confirms
fry, No. a tradition delivered down from antiquity, that her
i22- amorous passion extended even to persons of her own
sex, and that she was willing to have her mistresses as
well as her gallants.
Ovid introduces her making a sacrifice to Phaon,
one of her male paramours : from which we learn, that
Sappho’s love for her own sex did not keep her from
loving ours. She fell desperately in love with Phaon,
and did all she could to win him ; but in vain: upon
which she threw herself headlong from a rock, and died.
It is said that Sappho could not forbear following Phaon SapphI
into Sicily, whither he retired that he might not see il .
her ; and that during her stay in that island she pro- ’
bably composed the hymn to Venus, still extant, in ^
which she begs so ardently the assistance of that god¬
dess. Her prayers, however, proved ineffectual: Phaon
was cruel to the last degree. The unfortunate Sappho
was forced to take the dreadful leap; she went to the
promontory Leucas, and threw herself into the sea.
The cruelty of Phaon will not surprise us so much, if
we reflect, that she was a widow (for she had been
married to a rich man in the isle of Andros, by whom
she had a daughter named Cleis); that she had never
been handsome ; that she had observed no measure in
her passions to both sexes; and that Phaon had long
known all her charms. She was, however, a very great
wit, and for that alone deserves to be remembered.
The Mitylenians held her merit in such high esteem,
that they paid her sovereign honours after her death,
and stamped their money with her image. The Ro¬
mans afterwards erected a noble statue of porphyry to
her; and in short, ancients as well as moderns have
done honour to her memory. Vossius says, that none
of the Greek poets excelled Sappho for sweetness of
verse ; and that she made Archilochus the model of her
style, but at the same time took care to soften the se¬
verity of his expression. It must be granted, says Ra-
pin, from what is left us of Sappho, that Longinus had
great reason to extol the admirable genius of this wo¬
man ; for there is in what remains of her something de¬
licate, harmonious, and impassioned to the last degree.
SARABAND, a musical composition in triple time,
the motions of which are slow and serious.
Saraband is also a dance to the same measure, which
usually terminates when the hand that beats the time
falls; and is otherwise much the same as the minuet.
The saraband is said to be originally derived from
the Saracens, and is usually danced to the sound of
the guitar or castanettes.
S A11 AC A, a genus of plants belonging to the dia-
delphia class. See Botany Index.
SARACENS, the inhabitants of Arabia; so called
from the word saru, which signifies a desert, as the
greatest part of Arabia is ; and this being the country
of Mahomet, his disciples were called Saracens.
SARACOLETS, a Negro nation occupying the
country between the rivers of Senegal and Gambia.
They are a laborious people, cultivate their lands with
care, are plentifully supplied wfith all the necessaries of
life, and inhabit handsome and wreil built villages; their
houses, of a circular form, are for the most part terra¬
ced ; the others are covered with reeds as at Senegal:
they are inclosed with a mud wall a foot thick, and
the villages are surrounded with one of stone and earth
of double that solidity. There are several gates, which
are guarded at night for fear of a surprise. This na¬
tion is remarkably brave, so that it is very uncommon to
find a Saracolet slave. The religious principles of this
people are nearly allied to Mahometanism, and still
more to natural religion. They acknowledge one God;
and believe that those who steal, or are guilty of any
crime, are eternally punished. They admit a plurality
of wives, and believe their souls to be immortal like
their own. The extent of this country is unknown.
It is governed by four powerful princes, all bearing the
name
S A R [ 499 ] S A R
racolets. name of Fouquet. The least considerable, according to
I! . the testimony of the Saracolets, is that of Tuago, who
ircoce e. can assemj)]e 30,000 horse.
SARAGOSSA, a city of Spain, in the kingdom of
Arragon, with an archbishop’s see, an university, and
a court of inquisition. It is a large, handsome, and
well-built town. The streets are long, broad, well pav¬
ed, and very clean, and tbe houses from three to six
stories high. It is adorned with many magnificent build¬
ings; and they reckon 17 large churches, and 14 hand¬
some monasteries, not to mention others less consider¬
able. In 1808, this city sustained two of the most me¬
morable sieges recorded in history. When the French
in the beginning of the year had occupied a consider¬
able part of Spain, a body of 8000 infantry and 900
cavalry, were despatched under General Le Fevre,
against Saragossa. The Spaniards, under the cele¬
brated Palafox, met them in the field, but being worst¬
ed in some actions, retired into the town. Saragossa
stands in an open plain, covered with olive grounds,
but quite unfortified, and without any natural strength
of position. The inhabitants were estimated at 60,000.
Some parties of French entered the town on the 14 th
June, but were instantly driven back with great loss.
The French commander, sensible that his force was
too weak, retired ; but on the 27th they renewed their
attacks with great reinforcements. From this time to
13th August, the siege continued almost without in¬
termission. After incredible efforts, the French ob¬
tained possession of some streets ; but the Spaniards
obstinately contested every inch of ground. When a
summons was sent to the besieged to surrender, “ war
to the point of the knife, ” was the reply. To procure
ammunition, they collected all the sulphur in the town,
worked the soil of the streets for saltpetre, and burnt
the stalks of hemp to furnish charcoal. The contest
was carried on house by house, and street by street.
Batteries were erected by the opposite parties within a
few yards of one another ; and to prevent the accumu¬
lation of carcases on the streets from spreading conta¬
gion, Palafox caused French prisoners to be pushed
out with a rope attached to them to collect the bodies
of their countrymen, and remove them for burial. The
women assisted bravely in the most perilous exertions.
In this singular warfare the citizens gained by degrees
upon their enemies, and from a half of the town which
they once possessed, reduced them to an eighth. At
length, on the 13th August, the French general Verdier,
retired from the town, carrying with him a vast number
of wounded. On the 27th November, a French army
under Moncey, appeared before the town. The bom¬
bardment continued till the 20th February ; and after
one of the most heroic defences in history, the town
was compelled to surrender, 30,000 of the inhabitants
having fallen in the siege, and 300 or 400 dying daily
of the pestilence, and only a very small number of
men remaining fit to bear arms. W. Long. 0. 48.
N. Lat. 41. 44.
SARCASM, in Rhetoric, a keen bitter expression
which has the true point of satire, by which the orator
scofts and insults his enemy: such as that of the Jews
to our Saviour; “ He saved others, himself he cannot
save.”
S ARC O CELL, in Surgery, a spurious rupture or
hernia, wherein the testicle is considerably tumefied or
indurated, like a scirrhus, or much enlarged by a fleshy Sarcocele.
excrescence, which is frequently attended with acute „ ^
pains, so as to degenerate at last into a cancerous dis- a*
position. See Surgery. (
SARCOCOLLA, a concrete juice brought from
Persia and Arabia, in small whitish-yellow grains, with
a few of a reddish and sometimes of a deep red colour
mixed with them: the whitest tears are preferred, as
being the freshest: its taste is bitter, accompanied with
a dull kind of sweetness. See Chemistry.
SARCOLOGY, is that part of anatomy which treats
of the soft parts, viz. the muscles, intestines, arteries,
veins, nerves and fat.
SARCOMA, in Surgery, denotes any fleshy excres¬
cence.
SARCOPHAGUS, in antiquity, a sort of stone cof¬
fin or grave, wherein the ancients deposited the bodies
of the dead which were not intended to be burnt.
The word, as derived from the Greek, literally sig¬
nifies Jlesh-eater; because originally a kind of stone was
used for tombs, which quickly consumed the bodies.
See the following article.
One of the most celebrated specimens of antiquity is
the great sarcophagus, which is commonly called the
tomb of Alexander the Great. It fell into the hands of
the British at the capitulation of Alexandria in Egypt in
1801, is now deposited in the British Museum, and is
thus described by a writer in the Monthly Magazine. * Vol. xxvii.
“ It was brought from the mosque, of St Athanasius,11, 42,
at Alexandria, where it had been transformed, by the
Mahometans, into a kind of reservoir, consecrated to
contain the water for their pious ablutions. It is of
considerable magnitude, and would form an oblong rec¬
tangle, were not one of the ends or shorter sides of the
parallelogram rounded somewhat like a bathing tub.
It is probable that formerly it was covered with a lid,
but no trace of it is now visible ; but is entirely open
like an immense laver, of one single piece of beautiful
marble, spotted with green, yellow, reddish, &c. on a
ground of a fine black, of the species called breccia, a
sort of pudding stone, composed of agglutinated frag¬
ments of various sizes, which are denominated accord¬
ing to their component parts. This comes under the
class of calcareous breccias. But what renders this mag¬
nificent fragment of antiquity peculiarly interesting, is
the prodigious quantity of small hieroglyjthic characters,
with which it is sculptured both within and without,
as you may perceive by the figure. It would employ
me nearly a month to make faithful copies of them :
their shape and general appearance is pretty fairly given
in the figure ; but it can only serve to convey to you Tlate
an idea of the monument in one view. A correct and cccclxvih.
faithful copy of all the hieroglyphics, though an Her¬
culean task, is a desideratnm; for it can be only by
copying with scrupulous accuracy, and of a large size,
the figures of this symbolical language, that we can
attain the knowledge of a mysterious composition, on
which depends that of the history of a country, once
so highly celebrated. When that language shall be
understood, we may perhaps learn the original purpose
of this sarcophagus, and the history of the puissant
man whose spoils it contained. Till then it is but the*
vain and flitting field of conjecture.
“ Many men of science and learning, have examined
this memento of Egyptian skill and industry ; but no
3 R 2 positive
S A K [
§arcopha- positive decision of its former application is yet found
sus‘ by the learned. Sonniui and Denon. who both closely
an(i attentively examined it. have pronounced nothing
decisive on the subject. Dr Clark of Cambridge, an
indefatigable and learned antiquary, has asserted that
the sarcophagus of the museum really was the tomb
of Alexander ; but it requires more talents than I pos¬
sess, to remove the obstacles that withstand the clear
intelligibility of this invaluable antique. ”
Sarcophagus, or Lapis Assius, in the natural his-
torv of the ancients, a stone much used among the
Greeks in their sepultures, is recorded to have always
perfectly consumed the flesh of human bodies buried in
it in forty days. This property it was much famed for,
and all the ancient naturalists mention it. There was
another very singular quality also in it, but whether in
all, or only in some peculiar pieces of it, is not known :
that is, its turning into stone any thing that was put
into vessels made of it. This is recorded only by Mu¬
tinous and Theophrastus, except that Pliny had copied
it from these authors, and some of the later writers on
these subjects from him. The account Mutianus gives
of it is, that it converted into stone the shoes of per¬
sons buried in it, as also the utensils which it was in
some places customary to bury with the dead, parti¬
cularly those whii h ihe person while living most de¬
lighted in. The utensils this author mentions, are such
as must have been made of very diffeient materials;
and hence it appears that this stone had a power of
consuming not only flesh, but that its petrifying quality
extended to substances of very different kinds. Whether
ever it really possessed this last quality has been much
doubted; and many, from the seeming improbability of
it, have been afraid to record it. What has much en->
couraged the general disbelief of it is, Mutianus’s ac¬
count of its taking place on substances of very different
kinds and textures ; but this is no real objection, and
the whole account has probably truth in it. Petrifac¬
tions in those early days might not be distinguished from
incrustations of sparry and stony matter on the surfaces
of bodies only, as we find they are not with the gene¬
rality of the world even to this day ; the incrustations
of spar on mosses and other substances in some of our
springs, being at this time called by many petrified moss,.
&c.; and incrustations like these might easily be formed
on substances enclosed in vessels made of this stone, by
water passing through its pores, dislodging from the
common mass of the stone, and carrying with it par¬
ticles of such spar as it contained; and afterwards fall¬
ing in repeated drops on whatever lay in its way, it
might again deposit them on such substances in form
of incrustations. By this means, things made of ever
so different matter, which happened to be inclosed,
and in the way of the passage of the water, would bq
equall) incrusted with, and in appearance turned into,
stone, without regard to the different configurations,
of their pores and parts.
The place from whence the ancients tell us they had
this stone was Assos, a city of Lycia, in the neighbour¬
hood of which it was dug; and De Boot informs us,
that in that country, and in some parts of the .East,,
there are also stones of this kind, which, if tied to the
bodies of living persons, would in the same manner
consume their, flesh. JAill’s Notes on Theophrastus}
p. 14.
Sardinia
500 ] S A It
SAIICOTICS, in Surgery, medicines which are sup- Sarcotta
posed to generate flesh in wounds.
SARDANAPALUS, the last king of Assyria,
whose character is one of the most infamous in history.
He is said to have sunk so far in depravity, that, as tar
as he could, he changed his very sex and nature. He
clothed himself as a woman, and spun amidst compa¬
nies of his concubines. He painted his face, and be¬
haved in a more lewd manner than the most lascivious
harlot. In short, he buried himself in the most un¬
bounded sensuality, quite regardless of sex and the
dictates of nature. Having grown odious to all his
subjects, a rebellion was formed against him ny Arba-
ces the Mede and Belesis the Babylonian. They were
attended, however, with very bad success at first, be¬
ing defeated with great slaughter in three pitched bat¬
tles. With great difficulty Belesis prevailed upon his
men to keep the field only five days longer ; when
they were joined by the Bactrians, who had come to
the assistance of Sardanapalus, but had been prevailed
upon to renounce their allegiance to him. With this re¬
inforcement they twice defeated the troops of Sardana¬
palus, who shut himself up in Nineveh the capital of his
empire. The city held out for three years ; at the end
of which, Sardanapalus finding himself unable to hold
out any longer, and dreading to fall into the hands of
an enraged enemy, retired into his palace, in a court of
which he caused a vast pile of wood to be raised ; and
heaping upon it all his gold and silver, and royal ap¬
parel, and at the same time inclosing his eunuchs and
concubines in an apartment within the pile, he set fire
to it, and so destroyed himself and all together.
S ARDINI A, an island of the Mediterranean, bound¬
ed by the strait which divides it from Corsica on the
north; by the Tuscan sea, which flows between this
island and Italy, on the east; and by other parts of the
Mediterranean sea, on the south and west. It is about
140 miles in length, and 70 in breadth, and contains
420,000 inhabitants. The revenue arises chiefly from
a duty upon salt, and is barely sufficient to defray the
expenses of gvernment; but it certainly, might be con¬
siderably augmented, as the soil produces wine, corn,,
and- oil, in abundance. Most of the salt that is ex¬
ported is taken by the Danes and Swedes; the Eng.
lish formerly took great quantities for Newfoundland ;
but having found it more convenient to procure it
from Spain and Portugal, they now take little or-
none. A profitable tunny fishery is carried on at the
south-west part of the island ; but it is monopolized
by the proprietors of the adjoining land. Wild boars
abound in the hilly parts of the island ; and here are.
some few deer, not so large as those in Britain, but
in colour and make exactly the same. Beeves and,
sheep are also common, as well as horses.
The feudal system still subsists in a limited degree, and
titles go with their estates, so that the purchaser of the
latter inherits the former. The regular troops seldom
exceed 2000 men; but the militia amount to near,
26,000, of whom 11,000 are cavalry. Their horses are
small, but uncommonly active.. In a charge, we should,
beat them ; but, on a march, they would be superior to
us. The country people are generally armed; but not¬
withstanding their having been so long under the Spa¬
nish and Italian government, assassinations are by no
means frequent; and yet, by the laws of the country, if
1 1 &
S A It [ 501 ] S A R
irdinia ft man stabs another without premeditated malice, with-
|| in four hours after quarrelling with him, he is not liable
rdomus t() hariged. Ou the other hand, the church affords
Kibus. protection to the guilty. The Sardinians are not at
'~v all bigotted; and, next to the Spaniards, the English
are their favourites. This island was formerly subject
to the duke of Savoy, who enjoyed the title of king of
Sardinia. See Cagliari. It is now under the do¬
minion of the French.
There is in this island a pleasing variety of hills and
valleys, and the soil is generally fruitful; but the inha¬
bitants are a slothful generation, and cultivate but a
little part of it On the coast there is a fishery of an¬
chovies and coral, of which they send large quantities
to Genoa and Leghorn. This island is divided into
two parts ; the one, called Capo di Cagliari^ lies to the
south ; and the other Capo di Lugary, which is seated
to the north. The principal towns are Cagliari the
capital, Oristagno, and Sassari.
SARDIS, or Sardes, now called Sardo, or Sart, is
an ancient town of Natolia in Asia, about 40 miles east
of Smyrna. It was much celebrated in early antiquity,
was enriched by the fertility of the soil, and had been
the capital of the Lydian kings. It was seated on the
side of Mount Tmolus ; and the citadel, placed on a
lofty hill, was remarkable for its great strength. It was
the seat of King Croesus, and was in his time taken by
Cyrus ; after which the Persian satrapas or comman¬
dant resided at Sardis as the emperor did at Susa. The
city was also taken, burnt, and then evacuated by the
Milesians in the time of Darius, and the city and for¬
tress surrendered on the approach of Alexander after
the battle of Granicus. Under the Romans Sardis was
a very considerable place till the time of Tiberius Cae¬
sar, when it suffered prodigiously by an earthquake.
The munificence of the emperor, however, was nobly
exerted to repair the various damages it then sustained.
Julian attempted to restore the heathen worship in the
place. He erected temporary altars where none had
been left, and repaired the temples if any vestiges re¬
mained. In the year 400 it was plundered by the Goths,
and it suffered considerably in the subsequent troubles
of Asia. On the incursion of the Tartars in 1304, the
Turks were permitted to occupy a portion of the cita¬
del, separated by a strong wall with a gate, and were
afterwards murdered in their sleep. The site of this
once noble city is now green and flowery, the whole
being reduced to a poor village, containing nothing but
wretched huts. There are, however, some curious re¬
mains of antiquity about it, and some ruins which dis¬
play its ancient grandeur. See Chandler s Travels in
Asia Minor, p. 251, &c.
There is in the place a large caravansary, where tra¬
vellers may commodiously lodge. The inhabitants are
generally shepherds, who lead their sheep into the fine
pastures of the neighbouring plain. The Turks have a
mosque here, which was a Christian church, at the gate
of which there are several columns of polished marble.
There are a few Christians, who are employed in gar¬
dening. E. Long. 28. 5. N. Lat. 37. 51.
SARDONIUS risus, Sardonian Laughter; a con¬
vulsive involuntary laughter; thus named from the her-
ba sardonia, which is a species of ranunculus, and is said
to produce such convulsive motions in the cheeks as
resemble those motions which are observed in the face
during a fit of laughter. This complaint is sometimes
speedily fatal. If the ranunculus happens to be the SarJwus
cause, the cure must be attempted by means of a vo- ll;;us
mit, and frequent draughts of hydromel with milk. sanim.
SARDONYX, a precious stone, consisting of a. . i
mixture of the calcedony and carnelian, sometimes in
strata, but at other times blended together. See Mi¬
neralogy.
SARMENTOSfE (from sarmentum, a long shoot'
like that of a vine); the name of the 11th class in Lin¬
naeus’s Fragments of a Natural Method, consisting of
plants which have climbing stems and branches, that,
like the vine, attach themselves to the bodies in their
neighbourhood for the purpose of support. See Bo¬
tany.
SAROS, in chronology, a period of 223 lunar
months. The etymology of the word is said to be
Chaldean, signifying restitution, or return of eclipses;
that is, conjunctions of the sun and moon in nearly the^
same place of the ecliptic. The Saros was a cycle like
to that of Me to.
SAROTHRA, a genus of plants, belonging to the
pentandria class; and in the natural method ranking
under the 20th order, Rotacece. See Botany Index.
SARPLAR of Wool, a quantity of wool, other¬
wise called a pocket or half sack ; a sack containing
80 tod; a tod two stone; and a stone 14 pounds.—.
In Scotland it is called sarpliath, and contains 80
stone.
SARRACONIA, a genus of plants belonging to
the polyandria class ; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 54th order, Miscellanece. See Botany
Index.
SARR ASIN, or Sarrazin, in fortification, a kind
of portcullis, otherwise called a herse, which is hung
with ropes over the gate of a town or fortress, to be let
fail in case of a surprise.
SARSAPARILLA. See Smilax, Botany, and
Materia Medica Index.
SARTHE, a department in the west of France, form¬
ing part of the ancient Maine. It contains a consider¬
able proportion of poor soil and wastes, and the surface
is generally hilly. The principal productions are rye,'
maise, buck wheat, and vines ; and there are consider¬
able pastures. The manufactures are considerable, and
consist of serges, flannels, druggets, light woollens,
cloths of linen and hemp, handkerchiefs, hosiery, laces,
paper, iron-ware, glass, soap, &c. The territorial ex¬
tent of the department is 639,276 hectares : the po¬
pulation in 1817 was 410,380. The contributions in
the year 1802 amounted to 3,986,579 francs; Mans
is the chief town. The department takes its name
from the river Sarthe, which runs through it in a south¬
west direction, and falls into the Loire near Angers.
SARTORIUS, in Anatomy. See there, Table of
the Muscles.
Old SARUM, in Wilts, about one mile north of
New Sarum or Salisbury, has the ruins of a fort which
belonged to the ancient Britons ; and is said also to
have been one of the Roman stations. It has a double
intrenchment, with a deep ditch. It is of an orbicular
form, and has a very august look, being erected on one
of the most elegant plans for a fortress that can be ima¬
gined. In the north-west angle stood the palace of the
bishop, whose see was removed hither from Wilton and
Sherborn ; but the bishop quarrelling with King Ste¬
phen, he seized the castle and put a garrison into it,
which!
!
S A S [ 502 ] SAT
Sanira which was the principal cause of its destruction, as the
Sashes SCe was soon alter removed from hence to Salisbury in
, 1219. The area of this ancient city is situated on an
artificial hill, whose walls were three yards thick, the
ruins of which in many places in the circumference are
still to be seen, and the tracks of the streets and cathe¬
dral church may be traced out by the different colour
of the corn growing where once the city stood. Here
synods and parliaments have formerly been held, and
hither were the states of the kingdom summoned to
swear fidelity to William ihe Conqueror. Here also
was a palace of the British and Saxon kings, and of
the Roman emperors ; which was deserted in the reign
of Henry III. for want of water, so that one farm house
is all that is left of this ancient city ; yet it is called
the Borough of Old Sarum, and sends two members to
parliament, who are chosen by the proprietors of cer¬
tain adjacent lands.
In February 1795 a subterraneous passage was disco¬
vered at this place, of which we have the following ac¬
count in the Gentleman’s Magazine for March, in a let¬
ter dated Salisbury, Feb. 10. “ Some persons of Salis¬
bury on Saturday last w^ent to the upper verge of the
fortification (the citadel), and on the right hand, after
they had reached the summit, discovered a large hole.
They got a candle and lantern, and went down a flight
of steps for more than 30 yards. It was an arched way
seven feet wide, neatly chiselled out of the solid rock or
chalk. It is probable the crown of the arch gave way
from the sudden thaw, and fell in. There is a great
deal of rubbish at the entrance. It appears to be be¬
tween six and seven feet high, and a circular arch over¬
head all the way. These particulars I learned from the
person who himself explored it; but was afraid to go
farther, lest it might fall in again and bury him. He
thinks it turns a little to the right towards Old Sarum
house, and continues under the fosse till it reaches the
outer verge. The marks of a chisel, he says, are vi¬
sible on the side. There are two large pillars of square
stone at the entrance, which appear to have had a door
at foot. They are 18 inches by 27, of good free-stone,
and the mason work is extremely neat. The highest
part of the archway is two feet below the surface of
the ground.
“ It is all now again filled up by order of farmer
Whitechurch, who rents the ground of LordCamelford,
and thinks curiosity would bring so many people there
as to tread down his grass whenever grass shall be there.
I went into it 30 yards, which was as far as I could
get for the rubbish. I measured it with a line, and
found it extend full 120 feet inwards from the two pil¬
lars supposed to be the entrance; then onwards it ap¬
peared to be filled to the roof with rubbish. By mea¬
suring with the same line on the surface of the earth, I
found it must go under the bottom of the outer bank
of the outer trench; where I think the opening may
be found by digging a very little way. Whether it was
a Roman or a Norman work it is difficult to say ; but
it certainly was intended as a private way to go into
or out of the castle ; and probably a fort or strong cas¬
tle was built over the outer entrance I looked for
inscriptions or coins, but have not heard of any being
found. ”
S vSAFRAS. See Laurus, Botany and Mate-
iua Medic a Index.
SASHES, in military dress, are badges of distinction
worn by the officers of most nations, either round their Sashes,
waist or over their shoulders. Those for the British II
army were made of crimson silk : for the Imperial ‘t'aturn'
army crimson and gold; for the Prussian army black
silk and silver ; the Hanoverians yellow silk ; the Por¬
tuguese crimson silk with blue tassels.
SASINE, or Seisin. See Law, N° clxiv. 15. <X:c.
SASSA. See Myrrh, Opocalpasum, Materia
Medica Index, and Bruce's Travels, vol. v. p. 27,
&c.
SATAN, a name very common in Scripture, means
the devil or chief of the fallen angels. See Devil.
SATELLITE, in Astronomy, the same with a se¬
condary planet or moon.
SATIRE. See Satyr.
SATRAPA, or Satrapes, in Persian antiquity,
denotes an admiral; but more commonly the governor
of a province.
SATTIN, a glossy kind of silk stuff, the warp of
which is very fine, and stands so as to cover the coarser
woof.
SATTINET, a slight thin kind of sattin, which is
commonly striped, and is employed for different pur¬
poses of female dress.
SATURANTS, in Anatomy, the same with Absor¬
bents.
SATURATION, in Chemistry, is the impregna¬
ting an acid with an alkali, or vice versa, till either
receive no more, and the mixture then becomes neu¬
tral.
SATURDAY, the seventh and last day of the week,
so called from the idol Seater, worshipped on this day
by the ancient Saxons, and thought to be the same as
the Saturn of the Latins.
SATUREIA, Savory, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the didynamia class ; and in the natural method
ranking under the 42d order, Verticillatce. See Bo¬
tany Index.
SATURN, in Astronomy, one of the planets of our
solar system, revolving at the distance of more than
900 millions of miles from the sun. See Astronomy
Index.
Saturn, in Chemistry, an appellation formerly giv¬
en to lead.
Saturn, in Heraldry, denotes the black colour in
blazoning the arms of sovereign princes.
Saturn, one of the principal of the Pagan deities,
was the son of Coelus and Terra, and the father of
Jupiter. He deposed and castrated his father; and
obliged his brother Titan to resign his crown to him,
on condition of his bringing up none of his male issue,
that the succession might at length devolve on him.
For this purpose he devoured all the sons he had by
his wife Rhea or Cybele : but she bringing forth at
one time Jupiter and Juno, she presented the latter to
her husband, and sent the boy to be nursed on Mount
Ida ; when Saturn being informed of her having a son,
demanded (he child ; but in his stead his wife gave him
a stone swaddled up bke an infant, which he instantly
swallowed. Titan finding that Saturn had violated the
contract he had made with him, put himself at the head
of his children and made war on his brother, and hav¬
ing made him and Cybele prisoners, confined them in
Tartarus : but Jupiter being in the mean time grown
up, raised an army in Crete, went to his father’s assist¬
ance, defeated Titan, and restored Saturn to the throne.
Some
SAT [ 503 ] S A V
Saturn Some time after, Saturn being told that Jupiter in-
vrata ten(^ dethrone him, endeavoured to prevent it;
‘•av but the latter being informed of his intention, deposed
his father, and threw him into Tartarus. But Saturn
escaping from thence, fled into Italy, where he was
kindly received by Janus king of the country, who
associated him to the government: whence Italy ob¬
tained the name of Saturnia Tellus; as also that of
Latium, from lateo, “ to lie bid. ” There Saturn, by
the w isdom and mildness of his government, is said to
have produced the golden age.
Saturn is represented as an old man with four wings,
armed with a scythe; sometimes he is delineated under
the figure of a serpent with its tail in its mouth. This
is emblematic of the seasons, which roll perpetually in
the same circle. Sometimes also Saturn is painted
with a sand-glass in his hand. The Greeks say, that
the story of his mutilating his father and destroying
his children is an allegory, which signifies, that Time
devours the past and present, and will also devour the
future. The Romans, in honour of him, built a tem¬
ple, and celebrated a festival which they called Satur¬
nalia. During this festival no business or profession
was a!lowred to be carried on except cookery; all dis¬
tinctions of rank ceased; slaves could say what they
pleased to their masters with impunity; they could
even rally them with their faults before their faces.
SATURNALIA, in Roman antiquity, a festival
observed about the middle of December, in honour of
the god Saturn, whom Lucan introduces giving an ac¬
count of the ceremonies observed on tins occasion, thus.
“ During my whole reign, which lasts but for one week,
no public business is done ; there is nothing but drink¬
ing, singing, playing, creating imaginary kings, placing
servants with their masters at table, &c. There shall
be no disputes, reproaches, Ac. but the rich and poor,
masters and slaves, shall be equal, ” Ac.
On this festival the Romans sacrificed bare-headed,
contrary to their custom at other sacrifices.
SATURNINE, an appellation given to persons of
a melancholy disposition, as being supposed under the
influence of the planet Saturn.
SATYAVRATA, or Menu, in Indian mythology,
is believed by the Hindoos to have reigned over the
whole world in the earliest age of their chronology,
and to have resided in the country of Dravira on the
coast of the eastern Indian peninsula. His patronymic
name wras Vaivaswata, or child of the sun. In the Bha-
gavat we are informed, that the Lord of the universe,
intending to preserve him from the sea of destruction,
caused by the depravity of the age, thus told him how
he was to act. “ In seven days from the present time,
O thou tamer of enemies, the three worlds will be plun¬
ged in an ocean of death ; but, in the midst of the de¬
stroying waves, a large vessel, sent by me for thy use,
shall stand before thee. Then shalt thou take all medi¬
cinal herbs, all the variety of seeds ; and, accompanied
by seven saints, encircled by pairs of all brute animals,
thou shall enter the spacious ark and continue in it, se¬
cure from the flood on one immense ocean without light,
except the radiance of thy holy companions. When
the ship shall be agitated by an impetuous wind, thou
shalt fasten it with a large sea-serpent on my horn ; for
I will be near thee ; drawing the vessel, with thee and
thy at tendants, I will remain on the ocean, O chief of
men, until a night of Brahma shall be completely ended. Satyavrata
Thou shalt then know my true greatness, rightly named „ Jl
the supreme Godhead : by my favour, all thy ques- ^‘iv“fae- t
tions shall be answered, and thy mind abundantly in¬
structed. ” All this is said to have been accomplished;
and the story is evidently that of Noah disguised by A-
siatic fiction and allegory. It proves, as Sir William
Jones has rightly observed, an ancient Indian tradition
of the universal deluge described by Moses; and en¬
ables us to trace the connexion between the eastern and
western traditions relating to that event. The same
learned author has shown it to be in the highest degree
probable, that the Satyavrata of India is the Cronus of
Greece and the Saturn of Italy. See Saturn ; and
Asiatic Researches, vol. i. p. 230, &C.
SATYR, or Satire, in matters of literature, a dis¬
course or poem, exposing the vices and follies of man¬
kind. See Poetry, Part II. sect. x.
The chief satirists among the ancients are, Plorace,
Juvenal, and Persius ; those among the moderns are,
Regnier and Boileau, in French; Butler, Dryden, Ro¬
chester, Buckingham, Swift, Pope, Young, Ac. among
the English; and Cervantes among the Spaniards.
SATYRIASIS. See Medicine Index.
SATARIUM, a genus of plants belonging to the gy-
nandria class; and in the natural method ranking under
the 42d order, Verticillata. See Botany Index.
SATYRS, in ancient mythology, a species of demi¬
gods who dwelt in the woods. They are represented
as monsters, half-men, and half-goats; having horns
on their heads, a hairy body, with the feet and tail of
a goat. They are generally in the train that follows
Bacchus. As the poets supposed that they were re¬
markable for piercing eyes and keen raillery, they
have placed them in the same pictures with the Graces,
Loves, and even with Venus herself.
SAVAGE, Richard, one of the most remarkable
characters that is to be met with perhaps in all the re¬
cords of biography, was the son of Anne countess of
Macclesfield by the carl of Rivers, according to her
own confession ; and was born in 1698. This con¬
fession of adultery was made in order to procure a se¬
paration from her husband the earl of Macclesfield; yet,
having obtained this desired end, no sooner was her spu¬
rious offspring brought into the world, than, without
the dread of shame or poverty to excuse her, she disco¬
vered the resolution of disowning him; and, as long as
he lived, treated him with the most unnatural cruelty.
She delivered him over to a poor woman to educate as
her own; prevented the earl of Rivers from leaving him
a legacy of 6000/. by declaring him dead: and in effect
deprived him of another legacy which his godmother
Mrs Lloyd had left him, by concealing from him his
birth, and thereby rendering it impossible for him to
prosecute his claim. She endeavoured to send him se¬
cretly to the plantations; but this plan being either laid
aside or frustx*ated, she placed him apprentice with a
shoemaker. In this situation, however, he did not
long continue; for his nurse dying, he went to take
care of the effects of his supposed mother ; and found
in her boxes some letters which discovered to young
Savage his birth, and the cause of its concealment, y
From the moment of this discovery it was natural for
him to become dissatisfied with his situation as a shoe¬
maker. He now conceived that he had a right to share
in
S A V [ 504 ] S A V
in the affluence of his real mother; and therefore he
directly, and perhaps indiscreetly, applied to her, and
made use of every art to awaken her tenderness and
attract her regard. Butin vain did he solicit this un¬
natural parent: she avoided him with the utmost pre¬
caution, and took measures to prevent his ever enter¬
ing her house on any pretence whatever.
Savage was at this time so touched with the discovery
of his birth, that he frequently made it his practice to
walk before his mother’s door in hopes of seeing her
by accident; and often did he warmly solicit her to
admit him to see her ; but all to no purpose : he could
neither soften her heart nor open her hand.
Meantime, while he was assiduously endeavouring to
rouse the affections of a mother in whom all natural af¬
fection was extinct, he was destitute of the means of
support, and reduced to the miseries of want. We are
not told by what means he got rid of his obligation to
the shoemaker, or whether he ever was actually bound
to him ; but we now find him very differently employed
in order to procure a subsistence. In short, the youth
had parts, and a strong inclination towards literary pur¬
suits, especially poetry. He wrote a poem ; and after¬
wards two plays, Woman s a Riddle, and Love in a Veil:
but the author was allowed no part of the profits from
the first; and from the second he received no other
advantage than the acquaintance of Sir Richard Steele
and Mr Wilks, by whom he was pitied, caressed, and re¬
lieved. However, the kindness of his friends not afford¬
ing him a constant supply, he wrote the tragedy of Sir
Thomas Overbury ; which not only procured him the
esteem of many persons of wit, but brought him in 200/.
The celebrated Aaron Hill, Esq. was of great service
to him in correcting and fitting this piece for the stage
and the press ; and extended his patronage still farther.
But Savage was, like many other wits, a bad manager,
and was ever in distress. As fast as his friends raised
him out of one difficulty, he sunk into another ; and,
when he found himself greatly involved, he would ram¬
ble about like a vagabond, with scarce a shirt on his
back. He was in one of these situations during the
time that he wrote his tragedy above mentioned ;
without a lodging, and often without a dinner : so that
he used to scribble on scraps of paper picked up by
accident, or begged in the shops, which he occasion¬
ally stepped into, as thoughts occurred to him, crav¬
ing the favour of pen and ink, as it were just to take a
memorandum.
Mr Hill also earnestly promoted a subscription to a
volume of Miscellanies, by Savage ; and likewise fur¬
nished part of the poems of which the volume wras com¬
posed. To this miscellany Savage wrote a preface, in
which he gives an account of his mother’s cruelty, in
a very uncommon strain of humour.
The profits of his Tragedy and his Miscellanies to¬
gether, had now, for a time, somewhat raised poor
Savage both in circumstances and credit; so that the
wotld just began to behold him with a more favourable
eye than formerly, when both his fame and life were en¬
dangered by a most unhappy event. A drunken frolic
in which he one night engaged, ended in a fray, and
Savage unfortunately killed a man, for which he was
condemned to be hanged; his friends earnestly solicited
the mercy of the crown, while his mother as earnestly
.exerted herself to prevent his receiving it. The coun¬
tess of Hertford at length laid his whole case before Savaw
Queen Caroline, and Savage obtained a pardon. *—y-
Savage had now lost that tenderness for his mother
which the whole series of her cruelty had not been able
wholly to repress; and considering her as an implaca¬
ble enemy, whom nothing but his blood could satisfy,
threatened to harass her with lampoons, and to publish
a copious narrative of her conduct, unless she consented
to allow him a pension. This expedient proved success¬
ful ; and the lord Tyrconnel, upon his promise of laying
aside his design of exposing his mother’s cruelty, took
him into his family, treated him as an equal, and engag¬
ed to allow him a pension of 200/. a year. This was
the golden part of Savage’s life. He was courted by
all who endeavoured to be thought men of genius, and
caressed by all who valued themselves upon a refined
taste. In this gay period of his life he published the
Temple of Health and Mirth, on the recovery of Lady
Tyrconnel from a languishing illness ; and The Wan¬
derer, a moral poem, which he dedicated to Lord Tyr¬
connel, in strains of the highest panegyric : but these
praises he in a short time found himself inclined to re¬
tract, being discarded by the man on whom they were
bestowed. Of this quarrel Lord Tyrconnel and Mr
Savage assigned very different reasons. Our author’s
known character pleads too strongly against him ; for
his conduct was ever such as made all his friends,
sooner or later, grow weary of him, and even forced
most of them to become his enemies.
Being thus once more turned adrift upon the world,
Savage, whose passions were very strong, and whose
gratitude was very small, became extremely diligent in
exposing the faults of Lord Tyrconnel. He, moreover,
now thought himself at liberty to take revenge upon
his mother.—Accordingly he wrote The Bastard, a
poem, remarkable for the vivacity of its beginning
where he finely enumerates the imaginary advantages
of base birth), and for the pathetic conclusion, wherein
he recounts the real calamities which he suffered by the
crime of his parents.—The reader wrill not be displeased
with a transcript of some of the lines in the opening of
the poem, as a specimen of this writer’s spirit and man¬
ner of versification.
Blest be the bastard’s birth ! thro’ wondrous ways,
He shines eccentric like a comet’s blaze.
No sickly fruit of faint compliance he;
He ! stamp’d in nature’s mint with ecstasy!
He lives to build, not boast, a gen’rous race;
No tenth transmitter of a foolish face.
He, kindling from within, requires no flame,
He glories in a bastard’s glowing name.
— Nature’s unbounded son, he stands alone,
His heart unbiass’d, and his mind his own.
—O mother ! yet no mother !—’tis to you
My thanks for such distinguish’d claims are due.
This poem had an extraordinary sale ; and its ap¬
pearance happening at the time when his mother w as
at Bath, many persons there took frequent opportuni¬
ties of repeating passages from the Bastard in her hear¬
ing. This was perhaps the first time that ever she dis¬
covered a sense of shame, and on this occasion the power
of wit wras very conspicuous: the wretch who had, w ith¬
out scruple, proclaimed herself an adulteress, and who
had first endeavoured to starve her son, then to transport
S A V [ 505 ] 8 A V
a£e’ him, and afterwards to hang him, was not able to bear
^ V^the representation of her own conduct; but fled from
reproach, though she felt no pain from guilt; and left
Bath with the utmost haste, to shelter herself among
the crowds of London (a).
Some time after this, Savage formed the resolution
of applying to the queen ; who having once given him
life, he hoped she might farther extend her goodness to
him, by enabling him to support it.—With this view,
he published a poem on her birth-day, which he entitled
The Volunteer-Laureat; for which she was pleased to
send him 50/. with an intimation that he might annu¬
ally expect the same bounty. But this annual allow¬
ance was nothing to a man of his strange and singular
extravagance. His usual custom was, as soon as he
had received his pension, to disappear with it, and se¬
crete himself from his most intimate friends, till every
shilling of the 50/. was spent; which done, he again
appeared, pennyless as before : But he would never in¬
form any person where he had been, or in what manner
his money had been dissipated.—From the reports, how¬
ever, of some, who found means to penetrate his haunts,
it
(a) Mr Boswell, in his life of Dr Johnson, has called in question the story of Savage’s birth, and grounded his
suspicion on two mistakes, or, as he calls them, falsehoods, which he thinks he has discovered in his friend’s me¬
moirs of that extraordinary man. Johnson has said, that the earl of Rivers was Savage’s godfather, and
gave him his own name; which, by his direction, was inserted in the register of the parish of St Andrew’s,
Holborn. Part of this, it seems, is not true ; for Mr Boswell carefully inspected that register, but no such
entry is to be found. But does this omission amount to a proof, that the person who called himself Richard
Savage was an impostor, and not the son of the earl of Rivers and the countess of Macclesfield ? Mr Boswell
thinks it does ; and, in behalf of his opinion, appeals to the mecidm^alsum in uno, Jalsum in omnibus. The so¬
lidity of this maxim may be allowed by others; but it was not without surprise that, on such an occasion, we
found it adopted by the biographer of Johnson. To all who have compared his view of a celebrated cause,
with Stuart’s letters on the same subject addressed to Lord Mansfield, it must be apparent, that, at one period
of his life, he would not have deemed a thousand such mistakes sufficient to invalidate a narrative otherwise
so well authenticated as that which relates to the birth of Savage. The truth is, that the omission of the name
in the register of St Andrew’s may be easily accounted for, without bringing against the wretched Savage an
accusation of imposture, which neither his mother nor her friends dared to urge when provoked to it by every
possible motive that can influence human conduct. The earl of Rivers would undoubtedly give the direction
about registering the child’s name to the same person whom he entrusted with the care of his education ; but
that person, it is well known, was the countess of Macclesfield, who, as she had resolved from his birth to dis¬
own her son, would take care that the direction should not be obeyed.
That which, in Johnson’s life of Savage, Mr Boswell calls a second falsehood, seems not to amount even to
a mistake. It is there stated, that “ Lady Macclesfield having lived for some time upon very uneasy terms with
her husband, thought a public confession of adultery the most obvious and expeditious method of obtaining
her liberty. ” This Mr Boswell thinks cannot be true ; because, having perused the journals of both houses
of parliament at the period of her divorce, he there found it authentically ascertained, that so far from vo¬
luntarily submitting to the ignominious charge of adultery, she made a strenuous defence by her counsel. But
what is this to the purpose ? Johnson has nowhere said, that she confessed her adultery at the bar of either
house of parliament, but only that her confession was public : and as he has taught us in his Dictionary, that
whatever is notorious or generally known is public ; public, in his sense of the word, that confession certainly
was, if made to different individuals, in such a manner as showed that she was not anxious to conceal it from
her husband, or to prevent its notoriety. She might, however, have very cogent reasons for denying her guilt
before parliament, and for making a strenuous defence by her counsel; as indeed, had she acted otherwise, it
is very little probable that her great fortune would have been restored to her, or that she could have obtained
a second husband.
But Mr Boswell is of opinion, that the person who assumed the name of Richard Savage was the son of the
shoemaker under whose care Lady Macclesfield’s child was placed; because “ his not being able to obtain
payment of Mrs Lloyd’s legacy must be imputed to his consciousness that he was not the real person to whom
that legacy wras left. ” Fie must have a willing mind wdio can admit this argument as a proof of imposture.
Mrs Lloyd died when Savage was in his 10th year, when he certainly did not know' or suspect that he was the
person for whom the legacy was intended, when he had none to prosecute his claim, to shelter him from op¬
pression, or to call in law to the assistance of justice. In such circumstances he could not have obtained pay¬
ment of the money, unless the executors of the will had been inspired from heaven with the knowledge of the
person to whom it was due.
To these and a thousand such idle cavils it is a sufficient answer, that Savage was acknowledged and patron¬
ized as Lady Macclesfield’s son by Lord Tyrconnel, who was that lady’s nephew; by Sir Richard Steele, the
intimate friend of Colonel Brett, who was that lady’s second husband : by the queen, who, upon the authori¬
ty of that lady and her creatures, once thought Savage capable of entering his mother s house in the night
with an intent to murder her; and in effect by the lady herself , who at one time was prevailed upon to give him
50/. and who fled before the satire of the Bastard, without offering, either by herself or her friends, to deny
that the author of that poem was the person whom he called himself, or to insinuate so much as that he might
possibly be the son of a shoemaker. To Mr Boswell all this seems strange : to others, who look not with so
keen an eye for supposititious births, we think it must appear convincing.
Vol. XVIII. Part II. f 3 S
Savage, it would seem that he expended both his time and his
——v”—cash in the most sordid and despicable sensuality ; par¬
ticularly in eating and drinking, in which he would in¬
dulge in the most unsocial manner, sitting- whole days
and nights by himself, in obscure houses of entertain¬
ment, over his bottle and trencher, immersed in filth
and sloth, with scarce decent apparel ; generally wrap¬
ped up in a horseman’s great coat; and, on the whole,
with his very homely countenance, altogether exhibit¬
ing an object the most disgusting to the sight, if not
to some other of the senses.
His wit and parts, however, still raised him new
friends as fast as his behaviour lost him his old ones.
Yet such was his conduct, that occasional relief only fur¬
nished the means of occasional excess ; and he defeated
all attempts made by his friends to fix him in a decent
way. He was even reduced so low as to be destitute
of a lodging ; insomuch that he often passed his nights
in those mean houses that are set open for casual wan¬
derers ; sometimes in cellars, amidst the riot and filth
of the most profligate of the rabble ; and not seldom
would he walk the streets till he was weary, and then
lie down in summer on a hulk, or in winter with his
associates among the ashes of a glass house.
Yet, amidst all his penury and wretchedness, had this
man so much pride, and so high an opinion of his own
merit, that he ever kept up his spirits, and was always
ready to repress, with scorn and contempt, the least ap¬
pearance of any slight or indignity towards himself, in
the behaviour of his acquaintance ; among w hom he
looked upon none as his superior. He would be treat¬
ed as an equal, even by persons of the highest rank.
We have an instance of this preposterous and inconsist¬
ent pride, in his refusing to wait upon a gentleman who
was desirous of relieving him when at the lowest ebb of
distress, only because the message signified the gentle¬
man’s desire to see him at nine in t^ie morning. Savage
could not bear that anyone should presume to prescribe
the hour of his attendance, and therefore he absolutely
rejected the proffered kindness. This life, unhappy as
it may be already imagined, was yet rendered more un¬
happy, by the death of the queen, in 1738 ; which
stroke deprived him of all hopes from the court. His
pension was discontinued, and the insolent manner in
w7hich he demanded of Sir Robert Walpole to have it
restored, for ever cut off this considerable supply; which
possibly had been only delayed, and might have been
recovered by proper application.
His distress became now so great, and so notorious,
that a scheme was at length concerted for procuring
him a permanent relief. It was proposed that he should
retire into Wales, with an allowance of 50/. per annum,
on which he was to live privately in a cheap place, for
ever quitting his town-haunts, and resigning all farther
pretensions to fame. This offer he seemed gladly to ac¬
cept ; but his intentions were only to deceive his friends
by retiring for a while, to write another tragedy, and
then to return with it to London in order to bring it
upon the stage.
In 1739, he set out in the Bristol stage-coach for
Swansey, and was furnished with 15 guineas to bear the
expense of his journey. But, on the 14th day after
his departure, his friends and benefactors, the principal
ef whom was no other than the great Mr Pope, who
3
expected to hear of his arrival in Wales, were surprised Saw«e.
with a letter from Savage, informing them that he was'—-v-*.
yet upon the road, and could not proceed for want of
money. There was no other method than a remittance;
which was sent him, and by the help of which he was
enabled to reach Bristol, from whence he was to pro¬
ceed to Swansey by water. At Bristol, however, he
found an embargo laid upon the shipping; so that he
could not immediately obtain a passage. Here, there¬
fore, being obliged to stay for some time, he, with his
usual facility, so ingratiated himself with the principal
inhabitants, that he was frequently invited to their
houses, distinguished at their public entertainments, and
treated with a regard that highly flattered his vanity,
and therefore easily engaged his affections. At length,
wdth great reluctance, he proceeded to Swansey; where
he lived about a year, very much dissatisfied with the
diminution of his salary; for he had, in his letters,
treated his contributors so insolently, that most of them
withdrew their subscriptions. Here he finished his tra¬
gedy, and resolved to return with it to London: which
was strenuously opposed by his great and constant
friend Mr Pope; who proposed that Savage should
put this play into the hands of Mr Thomson and Mr
Mallet, in order that the} might fit it for the stage,
that Ins friends should receive the profits it might bring
in, and that the author should receive the produce by
way of annuity. This kind and prudent scheme was
rejected by Savage with the utmost contempt.—He
declared he would not submit his wmrks to any one’s
correction; and that he should no longer be kept in
leading strings. Accordingly he soon returned to Bris¬
tol in his way to London ; but at Bristol, meeting
with a repetition of the same kind treatment he had
before found there, he was tempted to make a second •
stay in that opulent city for some time. Here he was
again not only caressed and treated, but the sum of oO/.
was raised for him. with which it had been happy if he
had immediately departed tor London: But he never
considered that a frequent repetition of such kindness
was not to be expected, and that it was possible to tire
out the generosity of his Bristol friends, as he had
before tired his friends everywhere else. In short, he
remained here till his company was no longer welcome.
His visits in every family were too often repeated ; his
wit had iost its novelty, and his irregular behaviour
grew troublesome. Necessity came upon him before he
was aware; his money was spent, his clothes were worn
out, his appearance was shabby; and his presence was
disgustful at every labie. He nowr began to find every
man from home at whose house he called ; and he
found it difficult to obtain a dinner. Thus redu ed,
it would have been prudent in him to have withdrawn
from the place; but prudence and Savage were never
acquainted. He staid, in the midst of poverty, hunger,
and contempt, till the mistress of a coffee-house, to
whom he owed about eight pounds, arrested him for
the debt. He remained for some time, at a great ex¬
pense, in the house of the sheriff’s officer, in hopes of
procuring bail; which expense he was enabled to de¬
fray, by a present of five guineas from Mr Nash at
Bath. No bail, however, was to be found; so that
poor Savage was at last lodged in Newgate, a prison
so named in Bristol.
But
S A V [ 507 ] S A V
age. But it was the fortune of this extraordinary mortal
^ always to find more friends than he deserved. The
keeper of the prison took compassion on him, and
greatly softened the rigours of his confinement by every
kind of indulgence; he supported him at his own ta¬
ble, gave him a commodious room to himself, allowed
him to stand at the door of the gaol, and even fre¬
quently took him into the fields for the benefit of the
air and exercise; so that, in reality, Savage endured
fewer hardships in this place than he had usually suf¬
fered during the greatest part of his life.
While he remained in this not intolerable prison, his
ingratitude again broke out, in a bitter satire on the
city of Bristol; to which he certainly owed great ob¬
ligations, notwithstanding the circumstances of his ar¬
rest ; which was but the act of an individual, and that
attended with no circumstances of injustice or cruelty.
This satire- he entitled London and Bristol delineated;
and in it he abused the inhabitants of the latter, with
such a spirit of resentment, that the reader would im¬
agine he had never received any other than the most
injurious treatment in that city.
Wdien Savage had remained about six months in this
hospitable prison, he received a letter from Mr Pope,
(who still continued to allow him 20/. a year) contain¬
ing a charge of very atrocious ingratitude. What were
the particulars of this charge we are not informed; but,
from the notorious character of the man, there is rea¬
son to fear that Savage was but too justly accused.
He, however, solemnly protested his innocence; but
he was very unusually affected on this occasion. In
a few da)^s after, he was seized with a disorder, which
at first was not suspected to be dangerous: but grow¬
ing daily more languid and dejected, at last a fever
seized him; and he expired on the 1st of August
1743, in the 46th year of his age.
Thus lived, and thus d.ied, Richard Savage, Esq.;
leaving behind him a character strangely chequered
with vices and good qualities. Of the former we have
seen a variety of instances in this abstract of his life;
of the latter, his peculiar situation in the world gave
him but few opportunities of making any considerable
display. He was, however, undoubtedly a man of ex¬
cellent parts; and had he received the full benefits of
a liberal education, and had his natural talents been
cultivated to the best advantage, he might have made
a respectable figure in life. He was happy in a quick
discernment, a retentive memory, and a lively flow of
wit, which made his company much coveted ; nor was
his judgement both of writings and of men inferior to
his wit: but he was too much a slave to his passions,
and his passions were too easily excited. He was
warm in his friendships, but implacable in his enmity;
and his greatest fault, which is indeed the greatest of
all faults, was ingratitude. He seemed to think every
thing due to his merit, and that he was little obliged
to any one for those favours which he thought it their
duty to confer on him; it is therefore the less to be
wondered at, that he never rightly estimated the kind¬
ness of his many friends and benefactors, or preserved a
grateful and due sense of their generosity towards him.
The works of this original writer, ' after having
long lain dispersed in magazines and fugitive pub¬
lications, have been collected and published in an ele¬
gant edition, in 2 vols 8yo; to which are prefixed the
admirable memoirs of Savage, written by Dr Samuel Savage.
Johnson. y—
Savage is a word so well understood as scarcely to
require explanation. When applied to inferior animals,
it denotes that they are wild, untamed, and cruel; when
applied to man, it is of much the same import with bar¬
barian^ and means a person who is untaught and unci¬
vilized, or who is in the rude state of uncultivated na¬
ture. That such men exist at present, and have exist¬
ed in most ages of the world, is undeniable; but a
question naturally occurs respecting the origin of this
savage state, the determination of which is of consider¬
able importance in developing the nature of man, and
ascertaining the qualities and powers of the human
mind. Upon this subject, as upon most others, opi¬
nions are very various, and the systems built upon them
are consequently very contradictory. A large sect of
ancient philosophers maintained that man sprung at
first from the earth like his brother vegetables ; that he
was without ideas and without speech ; and that many
ages elapsed before the race acquired the use of lan¬
guage, or attained to greater knowledge than the beasts
of the forest. Other sects again, with the vulgar, and
almost all the poets, maintained that the first mortals
were wiser and happier, and more powerful, than any
of their offspring ; that mankind, instead of being ori¬
ginally savages, and rising to the state of civilization
by their own gradual and progressive exertions, were
created in a high degree of perfection; that, however,
they degenerated from that state, and that all nature
degenerated with them. Hence the various ages of
the world have almost everywhere been compared to
gold, silver, brass, and iron, the golden having been
always supposed to be the first age.
Since the revival of letters in Europe, and especially
during the present century, the same question has been
much agitated both in France and England, and by far
the greater part of the most fashionable names in mo¬
dern science have declared for the original savagism of
men. Such of the ancients as held that opinion, were
countenanced by the atheistic cosmogony of the Phoe¬
nicians, and by the early history of their own nations;
the moderns build their system upon what they sup¬
pose to be the constitution of the human mind, and
upon the late improvements in arts and sciences. As
the question must finally be decided by historical evi¬
dence, before we make our appeal to facts, we shall
consider the force of the modern reasonings from the
supposed innate powers of the human mind; for that
reasoning is totally different from the other, and to
blend them together would only prevent the reader
from having an adequate conception of either.
Upon the supposition that all mankind were original¬
ly savages, destitute of the use of speech, and, in the
strictest sense of the words, mutum et turpe pecus, the
great difficulty is to conceive how they could emerge
from that state, and become at last enlightened and ci¬
vilized. The modern advocates for the universality of
the savage state remove this difficulty by a number of
instincts or internal senses, with which they suppose the
human mind endowed, and by which the savage is,
without reflection, not only enabled to distinguish be¬
tween right and wrong, and prompted to do every thing
necessary to the preservation of his existence, and the
continuance of the species, but also led to the discovery
3 8 2 of
S A V [ 508 ] SAY
Savage, of what will contribute, in the first instance, to the ease
—v ’ and accommodations of life. Theseinstincts, they think,
brought mankind together, when the reasoning faculty,
which had hitherto been dormant, being now roused by
the collisions of society, made its observations upon the
consequences of their different actions, taught them to
avoid such as experience showed to be pernicious, and
to improve upon those which they found beneficial; and
thus was the progress of civilization begun. But this
theory is opposed by objections which we know not
how to obviate. The bundle of instincts with which
modern idleness, under the denomination of philosophy,
has so amply furnished the human mind, is a mere chi¬
mera. (See Instinct.) But granting its reality, it is
by no means sufficient to produce the consequences
which are derived from it. That it is not the parent of
language, we have shown at large in another place (see
Language, N° 1—7.); and we have the confession
of some of the ablest advocates for the original savagism
of man, that large societies must have been formed be¬
fore language could have been invented. How societies,
at least large societies, could be formed and kept toge¬
ther without language, we have not indeed been told;
bui we are assured by every historian and every traveller
of credit, that in such societies only have mankind been
found civilized. Among known savages the social storge
is very much confined ; and therefore, had it been in
the first race of men of as enlarged a nature, and as safe
a guide, as the instinctive philosophers contend that it
wTas, it is plain that those men could not have been sa¬
vages. Such an appetite for society, and such a direc¬
tor of conduct, instead of enabling mankind to have
emerged from savagism, would have effectually prevent¬
ed them from ever becoming savage ; it would have
knit them together from the very first, and furnished op¬
portunities for the progenitors of the human race to have
begun the process of civilization from the moment that
they dropt from the hands of their Creator. Indeed,
were themodern theories of internal senses and social af¬
fections well founded, and were these senses and affec¬
tions sufficient to have impelled the first men into so¬
ciety, it is not easy to be conceived how there could be
at this day a savage tribe on the face of the earth. Na¬
tural causes, operating in the same direction and with
the same force, must in every age produce the same ef¬
fects ; and if the social affections of the first mortals im¬
pelled them to society, and their reasoning faculties im¬
mediately commenced the process of civilization, surely
the same affections and the same faculties would in a
greater or less degree have had the same effect in every
age and on every tribe of their numerous offspring ; and
we should everywhere observe mankind advancing in ci¬
vilization, instead of standing still as they often do, and
sometimes retreating by a retrograde motion. This,
however, is far from being the case. Hordes of savages
exist in almost every quarter of the globe; and the Chi¬
nese, who have undoubtedly been in a state of civiliza¬
tion for at least 2000 years, have during the whole of
that long period been absolutely stationary, if they have
not tost some of their ancient arts. (See Porcelain.)
The origin of civilization, therefore, is not to be look¬
ed for in human instincts or human propensities, carry¬
ing men forward by a natural progress for the supposi¬
tion of such propensities is contrary to fact; and by fact
and historical evidence, in conjunction with what we
know of the nature of man, must this great question be Savage,
at last decided. v —v—.
In the article Religion, N° 7., it has been shown
that the first men, if left to themselves without any in¬
struction, instead of living the life of savages, and in
process of time advancing towards civilization, must
have perished before they acquired even the use of some
of their senses. In the same article it has been shown
(N° 14—17.), that Moses, as he is undoubtedly the
oldest historian extant, wrote likewise by immediate in¬
spiration ; and that therefore, as he represents our first
parents and their immediate descendants as in a statefar
removed from that of savages, it is vain to attempt to
deduce the originality of such a state from hypothetical
theories of human nature. We have, indeed, heard it
observed by some of the advocates for the antiquity and
universality of the savage state, that to the appeal to
revelation they have no objection, provided we take the
Mosaic account as it stands, and draw not from it con¬
clusions which it will not support.
They contend, at the same time, that there is no ar¬
gument fairly deducible from the book of Genesis which
militates against their position. Now we beg leave to
remark, that besides the reasoning which wTe have al¬
ready used in the article just referred to, we have as
much positive evidence against their position as the
nature of the Mosaic history could be supposed to af¬
ford.
We are there told that God created man after his
owm image ; that he gave him dominion over every
thing in the sea, in the air, and over all the earth;
that he appointed for his food various kinds of vege¬
tables ; that he ordained the Sabbath to be observed
by him, in commemoration of the works of creation ;
that he prepared for him a garden to till and to dress ;
and that, as a test of his religion and submission to his
Creator, he forbade him, under severe penalties, to eat
of a certain tree in that garden. We are then told that
God brought to him every animal which had been
created ; and we find that Adam was so Well acquaint¬
ed with their several natures as to give them names.
When, too, an helpmate was provided for him, he im¬
mediately acknowledged her as bone of his bone, flesh
of his flesh, and called her ‘woman, because she was
taken out of man.
How these facts can be reconciled to a state of igno¬
rant savagism is to us absolutely inconceivable; and it
is indeed strange, that men who profess Christianity
should appeal to reason, and stick by its decision on a
question which revelation has thus plainly decided
against them. But it is agreeable to their theory to
believe that man rose by slow steps to the full use ot
his reasoning powers. To us, on the other hand, it
appears equally plausible to suppose that our first pa¬
rents were created, not in full maturity, but mere in¬
fants, and that they went through the tedious process
of childhood and youth, &c. as to suppose that their
minds were created weak, uninformed, and unciviliz¬
ed, as are those of savages.
But if it be granted that Adam had a tolerable share
of knowledge, and some civilization, nothing can be
more natural than to suppose that he wmuld teach his
descendants what he knew himself; and if the Scrip¬
tures are to be believed, we are certain that some of
them possessed more than savage knowledge, and better
than
S A V [ 509 ] S A V
than savage manners. But instead of going on to fur¬
ther perfection, as the theory of modern philosophers
would lead us to suppose, we find that mankind dege¬
nerated in a most astonishing degree ; the causes of
which we have already in part developed in the article
Polytheism, N° 4, &c.
This early degeneracy of the human race, or their
sudden progress towards ignorance and savagism, ap¬
pears to lead to an important consequence. If men, so
very soon after their creation, possessing, as we have
seen they did, a considerable share of knowledge and
of civilization, instead of improving in either, degene
rated in both respects, it would not appear that human
nature has that strong propensity to refinement which
many philosophers imagine ; or that, had all men been
originally savage, they would have civilized themselves
by their own exertions.
Of the ages before the flood we have no certain ac¬
count anywhere but in Scripture ; where, though we
find mankind represented as very wicked, we have no
reason to suppose them to have been absolute savages.
On the contrary, we have much reason, from the short
account of Moses, to conclude that they were far ad¬
vanced in the arts of civil life. Cain, we are told, built
a city ; and two of his early descendants invented the
harp and organ, and were artificers in brass and iron.
Cities are not built, nor musical instruments invented,
by savages, but by men highly cultivated : and surely
we have no reason to suppose that the righteous poste¬
rity of Seth were behind the apostate descendants of
Cain in any branch of knowledge that was really useful.
That Noah and his family were far removed from sa¬
vagism, no one will controvert, who believes that with
them was made a new covenant of religion ; and it was
unquestionably their duty, as it must otherwise have
been their wish, to communicate what knowledge they
possessed to their posterity. Thus far then every con¬
sistent Christian, we think, must determine against ori¬
ginal and universal savagism.
In the preliminary discourse to Sketches of the His¬
tory of Man, Lord Kames would infer, from some facts
which he states, that many pairs of the human race
were at first created, of very different forms and na¬
tures, but all depending entirely on their own natural
talents. But to this statement he rightly observes, that
the Mosaic account of the Creation opposes insuperable
objections. “ Whence then (says his Lordship) the
degeneracy of all men into the savage state ? To ac¬
count for that dismal catastrophe, mankind must have
suffered some dreadful convulsion. ” Now, if we mis¬
take not, this is taking for granted the very thing to be
proved. We deny that at any period since the crea¬
tion of the world, all men were sunk into the state of
savages ; and that they were, no proof has yet been
brought, nor do we know of any that can be brought,
unless our fashionable philosophers choose to prop their
theories by the buttress of Sanchoniatho’s Phoenician
cosmogony. (See Sanchoniatho). His Lordship,
however, goes'on to say, or rather to suppose, that the
confusion at Babel, &c. was this dreadful convulsion :
For, says he, “ by confounding the language of men,
and scattering them abroad upon the face of all the
earth, they were rendered savages. ” Here again we
have a positive assertion, without the least shadow of
proof; for it does not at all appear that the confusion of
language, and the scattering abroad of the people, was Savage;
a circumstance such as could induce universal savagism.—v 1
There is no reason to think that all the men then alive
were engaged in building the tower of Babel; nor does
it appear from the Hebrew original that the language
of those who were engaged in it was so much changed
as the reader is apt to infer from our English version.
(See Philology, N° 8—16.)—That the builders were
scattered, is indeed certain ; and if any of them were
driven, in very small tribes, to a great distance from
their brethren, they would in process of time inevitably
become savages. (See Polytheism, N° 4—6, and
Language, N° 7.). But it is evident, from tbe Scrip¬
ture account of the peopling of the earth, that the de¬
scendants of Shem and Japheth wTere not scattered over
the face of all the earth, and that therefore they could
not be I’endered savage by the catastrophe at Babel. In
the chapter which relates that wonderful event, the ge¬
nerations of Shem are given in order down to Abram ;
but there is no indication that they had suffered w ith
the builders of the tower, or that any of them had de¬
generated into the state of savages. On the contrary,
they appear to have possessed a considerable degree of
knowledge; and if any credit be due to the tradition
which represents the father of Abraham as a statuary,
and himself as skilled in the science of astronomy, they
must have been far advanced in the arts of refinement.
Even such of the posterity of Ham as either emigrated,
or were driven from the plain of Shinar in large bodies,
so far from sinking into savagism, retained all the ac¬
complishments of their antediluvian ancestors, and be¬
came afterwards the instructors of the Greeks and Ho¬
mans. This is evident from the history of the Egyp¬
tians and other eastern nations, who in the days of A-
braham were powerful and highly civilized. And that
for many ages they did not degenerate into barbarism,
is apparent from its having been thought to exalt the
character of Moses,—that he wms learned in all the wis¬
dom of the Egyptians, and from tbe wisdom of Solo¬
mon having been said to excel all the wisdom of the
east country and of Egypt.
Thus decided are the Scriptures of the Old Testament
against the universal prevalence of savagism in that pe¬
riod of the world; nor are the most authentic pagan
writers of antiquity of a different opinion, Moschus the
Phoenician, * Democritus, and Epicurus, appear to be » Strabo,
the first champions of the savage state ; and they are bb. xvii.
followed by a numerous body of poets and rhapsodists,
among the Greeks and Romans, who were unquestion- et Vila
ably devoted to fable and fiction. The account which Epicurh
they have given of the origin of man, the reader will
find in another place (see Theology, Part I. sect. 1.):
But we hardly think that he will employ it in support
of the fashionable doctrine of original savagism. Against
the wild reveries of this school are posted all the leaders
of the other sects, Greeks and Barbarians; the philo¬
sophers of both Academies, the sages of the Italian and
Alexandrian schools; the Magi of Persia; the Bra-
mins of India, and the Druids of Gaul, &c. The
testimony of the early historians among all the ancient
nations, indeed, who are avowedly fabulists, is very
little to be depended on, and has been called in question
by the most judicious writers of Pagan antiquity. (See
Pint. Vita Thes. sub mil. ; Thucyd. 1. i. cap. 1.; Strabo,
1.11. p. 507.; Livy Pref. and Varro ap. August, de Civ.
Dei.}
S A V [■ 510 ] SAY
Savage. Dei,) The more populous and extensive kingdoms and
1 v—societies were civilized at a period prior to the records
of profane history : the presumption, therefore, without
taking revelation into the account, certainly is, that they
were civilized from the beginning. This is rendered
further probable from other circumstances. To account
for their system, the advocates of savagism are obliged,
as wre have seen, to have recourse to numerous supposi ¬
tions. They imagine that since the creation dreadful
convulsions have happened which have spread ruin and
devastation over the earth, which have destrojmd learn¬
ing and the arts, and brought on savagism by one sud¬
den blow. But this is reasoning at random, and with¬
out a vestige of probability : for the only convulsion
that can be mentioned is that at Babel, which we have
already shown to be inadequate.
Further, it does not appear that any people who were
once civilized, and in process of time had degenerated
into the savage or barbarous state, have ever recovered
their pristine condition without foreign aid. From
whence we conclude, that man, once a savage, would
never have raised himselffrom that hopeless state. This
appears evident from the history of the world ; for that
it requires strong incitements to keep man in a very
high state of knowledge and civilizat ion, is evident from
what we know of the numerous nations which were famed
in antiquity, but which are now degenerated in an asto¬
nishing degree. That man cannot, or, which is the
same thing, has not risen from barbarism to civilization
and science by his own efforts and natural talents, ap¬
pears further from the following facts. The rudiments
of all the learning, religion, laws, arts, and sciences,
and other improvements that have enlightened Europe,
a great part of Asia, and the northern coast of Africa,
were so many rays diverging iron) two points, on the
banks of the Euphrates and the Nile. In proportion
as nations receded from these two sources of humanity
and civilization, in the same proportion were they more
and more immersed in ignorance and barbarism. The
Greeks had made no progress towards civilization wrhen
the Titans first, and afterwards colonies from Egypt and
Phenicia, taught them the very elements of science and
* See TV- urbanity. * The aborigines of Italy wrere in the same
tan. state prior to the arrival of the Pelasgi, and the colo¬
nies from Arcadia and other parts of Greece. Spain
was indebted for the first seeds of improvement to the
commercial spirit of the Phenicians. The Gauls, the
Britons, and the Germans, derived from the Homans all
that in the early periods of their history they knew of
science, or the arts of civil life, and so on of other na¬
tions in antiquity. The same appears to be the case in
modern times. The countries which have been disco¬
vered by the restless and inquisitive spirit of Europeans
havebeen generally found in the lowest state of savagism;
from which, if they have emerged at all, it has been
exactly in proportion to their connexion with the inha¬
bitants of Europe. Even western Europe itself, when
sunk in ignorance, during the reign of monkery, did not
recover by the efforts of its own inhabitants. Had not
the Greeks, wrho in the 15th century took refuge in
Italy from the cruelty of the Turks, brought with
them their ancient books, and taught the Italians to
read them, we who are disputing about the origin of
the savage state, and the innate powers of the human
mind, had at this day been gross and ignorant savages
ourselves, incapable of reasoning with accuracy upon Savage.
any subject. That we have now advanced far before ' y—
pur masters is readily admitted; for the human mind,
when put on the right track, and spurred on by emu¬
lation and other incitements, is capable of making great
improvements : but between improving science, and
emerging from savagism, every one perceives there is
an immense difference.
Lord Karnes observes, that the people who inhabit
a grateful soil, where the necessaries of life are easily
procured, are the first who invent useful and ingenious
arts, and the first who figure in the exercises of the
mind. But the Egyptians and Chaldeans, who are
thought to support this remark, appear from what we
have seen to have derived their knowledge from their
antediluvian progenitors, and not from any advantages
of situation or strength of genius. Besides, the inha¬
bitants of a great part of Africa, of North and South
America, and of many of the islands lately discovered,
live in regions equally fertile, and equally productive
of the necessaries of life, with the regions of Chaldea
and Egypt; yet these people have been savages from
time immemorial, and continue still in the same state.
The Athenians, on the other hand, inhabited the most
barren and ungrateful region of Greece, while their
perfection in the arts and sciences has never been equal¬
led. The Norwegian colony which settled in Iceland
about the beginning of the 8th century, inhabited a
most bleak and barren soil, and yet the fine arts were
eagerly cultivated in that dreary region when the rest
of Europe was sunk in ignorance and barbarism. Again,
there are many parts of Africa, and of North and South
America, where the soil is neither so luxuriant as to
beget indolence, nor so barren and ungrateful as to de¬
press the spirits by labour and poverty ; where, not¬
withstanding, the inhabitants still continue in an uncul¬
tured state. From all which, and from numerous other
instances wrhich our limits permit us not to bring for¬
ward, we infer that some external influence is necessary
to impel savages towards civilization ; and that in the
history of the world, or the nature of the thing, we
find no instance of any people emerging from barbarism
by the progressive efforts of their own genius. On the
contrary, as we find, in societies highly cultivated and
luxurious, a strong tendency to degenerate, so in savages
we not only find no mark of tendency to improvement,
but rather a rooted aversion to it. Among them, in¬
deed, the social appetite never reached beyond their
own horde. It is, therefore, too weak and too confined
to dispose them to unite in large communities ; and of
course, had all mankind been once in the savage state,
they never could have arrived at any considerable de¬
gree of civilization.
Instead of trusting to any such natural progress, as
is contended for, the Providence of Heaven, in pity to
the human race, appears at different times, and in dif¬
ferent countries, to have raised up some persons endow¬
ed with superior talents, or, in the language of poetry,
some heroes, demi-gods, or god-like men, who having
themselves acquired some knowledge in nations already
civilized, by useful inventions, legislation, religious in¬
stitutions, and moral arrangements, sowed the first
seeds of civilization among the hordes of wandering
disunited barbarians. Thus we find the Chinese look
up to their Fohee, the Indians to Brahma, the Persians
. to
S A V
ivage to Zoroaster, the Chaldeans to Oanes, the Egyptians
II to Thoth, the Phenicians to Melicerta, the Scandina-
Mar" v‘ans t0 Odin, the Italians to Janus, Saturn, and Pi-
cus, and the Peruvians to Manco. In later times, and
almost within our own view, we find the barbarous na¬
tions of Russia reduced to some order and civilization
by the astonishing powers and exertions of Peter the
Great. The endeavours of succeeding monarchs, and
especially of Catharine II. have powerfully contributed
to the improvement of this mighty empire. In many
parts of it, however, we still find the inhabitants in
a state very little superior to savagism ; and through
the most of it, the lower, and perhaps the middling
orders, appear to retain an almost invincible aversion
je Bus-to all further progress ; * a fact which, when added to
numerous others of a similar nature which occur in the
history of the world, seems to prove indisputably, that
there is no such natural propensity to improvement in
the human mind as we are taught by some authors to
believe. The origin of savagism, if we allow mankind
to have been at first civilized, is easily accounted for
by natural means : The origin of civilization, if at any
period the whole race were savages, cannot, we think,
be accounted for otherwise than bv a miracle, or re¬
peated miracles.
To many persons in the present day, especially, the
doctrine we have now attempted to establish will ap¬
pear very humiliating ; and perhaps it is this alone that
has prevented many from giving the subject so patient
a hearing as its importance seems to require. It is a
fashionable kind of philosophy to attribute to the hu¬
man mind very preeminent powers: which so flatter
our pride, as in a great measure, perhaps, to pervert
our reason, and blind our judgment. The history of
the world, and of the dispensations of God to man, are
certainly at variance with the popular doctrine respect¬
ing the origin of civilization : for if the human mind
be possessed of that innate vigour which that doctrine
attributes to it, it will be extremely difficult to ac¬
count for those numerous facts which seem with irre¬
sistible evidence to proclaim the contrary—for that
unceasing care with which the Deity appears to have
watched over us—and for those various and important
revelations He has vouchsafed to us. Let us rejoice
and be thankful that we are men, and that we are
Christians ; but let not a vain philosophy tempt us to
imagine that we are angels or gods
Sa vage Island, one of the small islands in the South
sea, lying in S. Lat. 19. 1. VV. Long. 169. 37- It is
about seven leagues in circuit, of a good height, and
has deep water close to its shores. Its interior parts
are supposed to be barren, as there was no soil to be
seen upon the coast; the rocks alone supplying the
trees with humidity. The inhabitants are exceeding¬
ly warlike and fierce, so that Captain Cook could not
have any intercourse with them.
SA VANNA-la-Mar, a town of Jamaica, situated
in the county of Cornwall in that island. -It is the
county town, where the assize courts are held. This
town was almost totally destroyed in 1781 by an earth¬
quake and inundation, when many of the inhabitants
perished. It has now an elegant court-house, and
contains about one hundred other houses. It belongs
to Westmoreland parish, in which are 89 sugar-estates,
106 other estates, and 18,000 slaves.
S A V
SAVANNAH, formerly the capital of Georgia in
North America, situated on a river of the same name,
and 17 miles from its mouth, in W. Long. 80.20. N.
Lat. 32. 0. This town is regularly built in form of a
parallelogram.
SAV ARY, James, an eminent French writer on
the subject of trade, was born at Done, in Anjou, in
1622. Being bred to merchandise,-he continued in
trade until 1658; when he left off the practice, to
cultivate the theory. He had married in 1650 ; and in
1660, when the king declared a purpose of assigning
privileges and pensions to such of his subjects as had
twelve children alive, Mr Savary was not too rich to
put in his claim to the Royal bounty. He was after¬
wards admitted of the council for the reformation of
commerce ; and the orders which passed in 1670 were
drawn up by his instructions and advice. He wrote
Le Parfait Negotiant, 4to ; and, Avis et conseils sur les
imporiantes raatieres du Commerce, in 4to. He died in
1690; and out of 17 children whom he had by one
wife, left 11. Two of his sons. James and Philemon
Lewis, laboux-ed jointly on a great work, Dictionnaire
Universelle du Commerce, 2 vois. folio. This work was
beg un by Janies who was inspector-general of the ma¬
nufactures at the custom-house, Paris; who called in
the assistance of his brother Philemon Lewis, although a
canon of the Royal church of St Maur; and by his
death left him to finish it. This work appeared in I 723,
and Philemon afterwards added a third supplemental
volume to the former. Postlethwayte’s English Oic-
tionary of Trade and Commerce is a translation, with
considerable improvements, from Savary.
Savary, an eminent French traveller and writer,
was born at Vitre, in Brittany, about the year 1748.
He studied with applause at Rennes, and in 1776 tra¬
velled into Egypt, where he remained almost three years.
During this period he was wholly engaged in the study
of the Arabian language, in searching out antient mo¬
numents, and in examining the national manners. AT-
ter making himself acquainted with the knowledge and
philosophy of Egypt, he visited the islands in the Ar¬
chipelago, where he spent 18 months. On his return
to France, in 1780, he published, 1. A Translation of
the Koran, with a short Life of Mahomet, in 1783,
2 vols. 8vo. 2. The Morality of the Koran, or a col¬
lection of the most excellent maxims in the Koran; a
work extracted from his translation, which is esteemed
both elegant and faithful. 3. Letters on Egypt, in 3
vols. 8vo, in 1785. In these the author makes his ob¬
servations with accuracy, paints with vivacity,-and ren¬
ders interesting every thing he relates. His descriptions
are in general faithful, but are perhaps in some instances
too much ornamented. He has been justly censured
for painting modern Egypt and its inhabitants in too
high colours. These letters, however were bought up
by the curious public, and read with pleasure and ad¬
vantage. Encouraged by this flattering reception, he
prepared his letters upon Greece. He died soon after
at Paris of a malady contracted from too intense appli¬
cation. A sensible obstruction in the right lobe of the
liver had made a decisive progress, which the return of
summer, some simple medicines, a strict regimen, and
travelling, seemed to remove.
On his return into the country adjacent to Paris,
his health however was still doubtful; for it is well
known.
[ 511 1
Savannah,
Savary.
'S A V
[ 512 ]
S A V
Savary
Save.
known that when the organization of one of the viscera
has been much deranged, deep traces of it will ever re-
His active mind, however, made him regardless
main.
of his health, and he conceived it his duty to profit by
those appearances of recovery which he experienced at
the close of the summer and the beginning of autumn,
to put into order his travels into the islands of the Ar¬
chipelago, intended as a continuation of his letters on
Egypt. His warmth of temper was exasperated by
some lively criticisms which had been made on his for¬
mer productions, and he gave himself up to study with
a degree of activity of which the consequences were suf¬
ficiently obvious. An obstruct ion in the liver again took
place, and made a new progress ; his digestion became
extremely languid ; sleep quite forsook him, both by
night and by day ; a dry and troublesome cough came
his face appeared bloated, and his legs more and
more inflamed. The use of barley-v/ater and cream of
tartar still however promoted, in some degree, the uri¬
nary secretions, and afforded some little glimmering of
hope. In this situation he returned to Paris in the be¬
ginning of the year 1788, to attend to the publication
of his new work concerning the islands of the Archipe-
lago, particularly the isle of Candia. He had then all
the symptoms of a dangerous dropsy, which became
still more alarming from the very exhausted state of the
viscera. The right lobe of the liver was extremely hard
and sensible. The patient had shiverings without any
regular returns, and his strength was undermined by a
hectic fever. At the same time still more uneasy symp¬
toms took place, those of a dropsy in the chest; but the
circumstances which destroyed all hope, and announced
his approaching dissolution, were a severe pain in the
left side, with a very troublesome cough, and a copious
and bloody expectoration (in hepatitis, says Hippocra¬
tes, sputum cruentum mortiferum); his respiration be¬
came more and more difficult; his strength was ex¬
hausted, and his death took place on the 4th of Feb¬
ruary 1788, attended with every indication of the most
copious overflowing in the chest, and of an abscess in
the liver.—Thus was destroyed, in the vigour of his
age, an author whose character and talents rendered
him worthy of the happiest lot.
Mr Savary’s genius wras lively and well cultivated ;
his heart warm and benevolent; his imagination vi¬
gorous ; his memory retentive. He was cheerful and
open ; and had so great a talent for telling a story,
that his company vims not less agreeable than instruc¬
tive. He did not mingle much with the world, but
was satisfied with performing well the duties of a son,
of a brother, and of a friend.
SAUCISSE, or Saucisson, in mining, is a long
pipe or bag, made of cloth well pitched, or sometimes of
leather, of about an inch and a half diameter, filled with
powder, going from the chamber of the mine to the en¬
trance of the gallery. It is generally placed in a wooden
pipe called an auget, to prevent its growing damp. It
serves to give fire to mines, caissons, bomb-chests, &c.
Saucisson, is likewise a kind of fascine, longer
than the common ones; they serve to raise batteries
and to repair breaches. They are also used in mak¬
ing epaulements, in stopping passages, and in making
traverses over a wet ditch, &c.
SAVE, a river of Germany, which has its source in
Upper Carniola, on the frontiers of Carinthia. It runs
through Carffiola from west to east, afterwards sepa¬
rates Sclavonia from Croatia, Bosnia, and part of Ser-
via, and then falls into the Danube at Belgrade.
SAVENDROQG, a strong fortress of Hindostan,
in the Mysore kingdom. It is situated on the summit
of a vast rock, measuring about half a mile in perpen¬
dicular height, its base being upwards of eight miles
in circumference, and divided by a chasm at the top,
by which it is formed into two hills, each having a pe¬
culiar kind of defence. They answer the purpose of
two citadels wdiich are capable of being maintained in¬
dependent of the lower works, which are remarkably
strong. It was, however, taken by the gallantry of
British troops in the year 1791, after a siege of seven
days continuance. It is 18 miles west of Bangalore.
See India, N° 167.
SAVER-krout. See Kroute.
S AVERNAKE-Forest, is situated near Marlbo¬
rough in Wiltshire, and is 12 miles in circumference,
well stocked with deer, and delightful from the many
vistas cut through the woods ami coppices with which
it abounds. Eight of these vistas meet, like the rays
of a star, in a point near the middle of the forest,
where an octagon tower is erected to correspond with
the vistas ; through one of which is a view of Totten¬
ham Park, Lord Ailesbury’s seat, a stately edifice e-
rected after the model, and under the direction, of
our modern Vitruvius, the earl of Burlington, who
to the strength and convenience of the English archi¬
tecture has added the elegance of the Italian.
S AV1LE, Sir George, afterwards Marquis of Ha¬
lifax, and one of the greatest statesmen of his time, was
born about the year 1630 ; and some time after his re¬
turn from his travels was created a peer, in considera¬
tion of his own and his father’s merits. He was a stre¬
nuous opposer of the bill of exclusion ; but proposed
such limitations of the duke of York’s authority, as
should disable him from doing any harm either in church
or state, as the taking out of his hands all power in
ecclesiastical matters, the disposal of the public money,
and the power of making peace and war ; and lodging
these in the two houses of parliament. After that bill
was rejected in the house of lords, he pressed them,
though without success, to proceed to the limitation of
the duke’s power ; and began with moving, that during
the king’s life he might be obliged to live five hundred
miles out of England. In August 1682 he was creat¬
ed a marquis, and soon after made privy-seal. Upon
King James’s accession, he was made president of the
council; but on his refusal to consent to the repeal of
the test, he was dismissed from all public employments.
In that assembly of the lords which met after King
James’s withdrawing himself the first time from White¬
hall, the marquis was chosen their president; and upon
the king’s return from Feversham,he was sent, together
with the earl of Shrewsbury and Lord Delamere, from
the prince of Orange, to order his majesty to quit the
palace at Whitehall. In the convention of parliament
he was chosen speaker of the house of lords, and stre¬
nuously supported the motion for the vacancy of the
throne, and the conjunctive sovereignty of the prince and
princess; upon whose accession he was again made privy
seal. Yet, in 1689, he quitted the court, and became
a zealous opposer of the measures of government till his
death, which happened in April 1695. The Rev. Mr
Grainger
.
SAY [ 513 ] BAY
Savile, Grainger obsei^’es, that “ he was a person of unsettled
savillf. principles, and of a lively imaginations which some-
times got the better of his judgment. He would never
lose his jest, though it spoiled his argument, or brought
his sincerity or even his religion in question. He was
deservedly celebrated for his parliamentary talents ;
and in the famous contest relating to the bill of exclu¬
sion was thought to be a match for his uncle S hafts-
bury. The pieces he has left us show him to have been
an ingenious, if not a masterly writer; and his Advice
to n Daughter contains more good sense in fewer words
than is, perhaps, to he found in any of his contempo¬
rary authors. ” His lordship also wrote, The Anato¬
my of an Equivalent; a Letter to a Dissenter ; a Rough
Draught of a New Model at Sea; and Maxims of State;
all which were printed together in one volume 8vo.—
Since these were also published under his name, the
Character of King Charles II. 8vo; the Character of
Bishop Burnet, and Historical Observations upon the
reigns of Edward I. II. III. and Richard II. with
Remarks uponAheir faithful Counsellors and false Fa¬
vourites.
S AVILLE, Sir Henry, a learned Englishman, was
the second son of Henry Saville, Esq. and was born
at Bradley, near Halifax, in Yorkshire, November the
30th, 1549. He was entered of Merton College, Ox¬
ford, in 1561, where he took the degrees in arts, and
was chosen fellow. When he proceeded master of arts
in 1570, he read for that degree on the Almagest of
Ptolemy, which procured him the reputation of a man
eminently skilled in mathematics and the Greek lan¬
guage ; in the former of which he voluntarily read a
public lecture in the university for some time.
In 1578 he travelled into France and other countries;
where, diligently improving himself in all useful learn¬
ing. in languages, and the knowledge of the world, he
became a most accomplished gentleman. At his re¬
turn, he was made tutor in the Greek tongue to Queen
Elizabeth, who had a great esteem for him.
In 1586 he was made warden of Merton College,
which he governed 36 years with great honour, and
improved it by all the means in his power.—In 1596
he was chosen provost of Eton College ; which he fill¬
ed with many learned men.—James I. upon his acces¬
sion to the crown of England, expressed a great re¬
gard for him, and would have preferred him either in
church or state; but Saville declined it, and only ac¬
cepted the ceremony of knighthood from the King at
Windsor in 1604. His only son Henry dying about
that time, he thenceforth devoted his fortune to the
promoting of learning. Among other things, in 1619,
he founded, in the university of Oxford, two lectures,
or professorships, one in geometry, the other in astro¬
nomy ; which he endowed with a salary of 160/. a year
each, besides a legacy of 600/. to purchase more lands
for the same use* He also furnished a library with
mathematical books, near the mathematical school, for
the use of his professors; and gave 100/. to the ma¬
thematical chest of his own appointing : adding after¬
wards a legacy of 40/. a year to the same chest, to the
university, and to his professors jointly. He likewise
gave 120/. towards the new building of the schools,
beside several rare manuscripts and printed books to
The Bodleian library; and a good quantity of Greek
types to the printing press at Oxford.
V.OL. XVIII. Part II.
After a life thus spent in the encouragement as*id SaviUe
promotion of science and literature in general, ht died s |
at Eton College the 19th of February 1622, in the 7 d 1 °ir
year of his age, and was buried in the chapel there.
On this occasion, the university of Oxford paid him
the greatest honours, by having a public speech and
verses made in his praise, which were .published soon
after in 4to, under the title of Ultima Li)tea Savilii.
The highest encomiums were bestowed on Saville by
all the learned of his time: by Casaubon, Mercerus,
Meibomius, Joseph Scaliger, and especially the learn¬
ed Bishop Montague ; who, in his Diatribe upon Sel-
den's History of Tylhes, styles him, “ that magazine
of learning whose memory shall be honourable amongst
sot only the learned, but the righteous, for ever. ”
His works are,
1. Four Books of the Histories of Cornelius Taci¬
tus, and the Life of Agricola ; with Notes upon them,
in folio, dedicated to Queen Elizabeth, 1581.—2. A
View of certain Military Matters, or Commentaries
concerning Roman Warfare, 1598.—3. Rerum Angli-
carum Scriptures post Bedam,;&c, 1596. This is a col¬
lection of the best writers of our English history; to
which he added chronological tables at the end, from
Julius Caesar to William the Conqueror.—-L The Works
of St Chrysostom, in Greek, in 8 vols folio, 1613.
This is a very fine edition, and composed with great
cost and labour. In the preface he says, “ that hav¬
ing himself visited, about 12 years before, all the pub¬
lic and private libraries in Britain, and copied out
thence whatever he thought useful to this design, he
then sent some learned men into France, Germany,
Italy, and the East, to transcribe such parts as he had
not already, and to collate the others with the best
manuscripts. ” At the same time, he makes his ac¬
knowledgements to several eminent men for their as¬
sistance ; as Thuanus, Velserus. Schottus, Casaubon,
Ducmus, Gruter, Hoeschelius, &€. In the 8th volume
are inserted Sir Henry Saville’s own notes, with those
of other learned men. The whole charge of this edi¬
tion, including the several sums paid to learned men,
at home and abroad, employed in finding out, tran¬
scribing, and collating the best manuscripts, is said to
have amounted to no less than 8000/, Several editions
of this work were afterwards published at Paris.—5. In
1618 he published a Latin work, written by Thomas
Bradwardin, archbishop of Canterbury,againstPelagius,
entitled De Causa Dei contra Pelagium, et de virtute can-
sarum; to which he prefixed the life of Bradwardin.—
6. In 1621 he published a collection of his own Ma¬
thematical Lectures on Euclid’s Elements, in 4to.—7-
Oratio coram Elizabetha Regina Os on tie habita, anno
1592. Printed at Oxford in 1658, in 4to.—8. He
translated into Latin King James’s Apology for the
Oath of Allegiance. He also left several manuscripts
behind him, written by order of King James ; all which
are in the Bodleian library. He wrote notes likewise
upon the margin of many books in his library, particu¬
larly Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History ; which were af¬
terwards used by Valesius, in his edition of that work in
1Q59.—Four of bis letters to Camden are published
by Smith, among Camden’s Letters, 1691, 4to.
SAVIN, in Botany. See Juniperus, Botany
Index.
SAVIOUR, an appellation peculiarly given to Jesus
f 3 T Christ,
Saviour
S A U [ 514 ] S A U
Christ, as being the Messiah and Saviour of the world.
See Jesus.
Order of St SAriouR, a religious order of the Ro¬
mish church, founded by St Bridget, about the year
] 345, and so called from its being pretended that our
Saviour himself declared its constitution and rules to
the foundress. According to the constitutions, this is
principally founded for religious women who pay a par¬
ticular honour to the holy virgin ; but there are some
monks of the order, to administer the sacrament and
spiritual assistance to the nuns.
SAUL the son of Kish, of’ the tribe of Benjamin,
was the first king of the Israelites. On account of his
disobedient conduct, the kingdom was taken from his
family, and given to David. See the First Book of
Samuel.
Saul, otherwise called Paul. See Paul.
SAUMUR, a considerable town of France, in the
department of Maine and Loire, with an ancient castle.
The town is pleasantly situated on the Loire, across
which is a long bridge, continued through a number of
islands. It contained 9585 inhabitants in 1800. Sau-
mur was anciently a most important pass over the river,
and of consequence was frequently and fiercely disput¬
ed by either party, during the civil wars of France in
the sixteenth century. The fortifications are of great
strength ; and Henry IV, on the reconciliation which
took place between him and Henry III near Tours in
1589, demanded that Saumur should be delivered to
him, as one of the cities of safety. The castle overlooks
the town and river. It is built on a lofty eminence,
and has a venerable and magnificent appearance, and
was lately used as a prison of state, w'here persons of
rank were frequently confined. The kings of Sicily,
and dukes of Anjou of the house of Valois, who de¬
scended from John king of France, often resided in the
castle of Saumur, as it constituted a part of their
Angevin dominions. E. Long. 0. 2. N. Lat. 47.15.
SAUNDERS, a kind of wood brought from the
East Indies, of which there are three kinds ; w hite,
yellow, and red. See Pterocarpus and Santalum,
Botany Index.
SAUNDERSON, Dr Robert, an eminent casu¬
ist, was born at Rotherham in Yorkshire on the 19th
September 1587, and was descended of an ancient fa¬
mily. He attended the grammar-school at Rother¬
ham, where he made such wonderful proficiency in the
languages, that at 13 it was judged proper to send him
to Lincoln college, Oxford. In 1608 he was appoint¬
ed logic reader in the same college. He took orders
in 1611, and was promoted successively to several be¬
nefices. Archbishop Laud recommended him to King
Charles I. as a profound casuist; and that monarch,
who seems to have been a great admirer of casuistical
learning, appointed him one of his chaplains in 1631.
Charles proposed several cases of conscience to him,
and received so great satisfaction from his answers,
that at the end of his month’s attendance he told him,
that he would wait with impatience during the inter¬
vening 11 months, as he was resolved to be more in¬
timately acquainted with him, when it would again be
his turn to officiate. The king regularly attended his
sermons, and was wont to say, that “ he carried his
ears to hear other preachers, but Ids conscience to
hear Mr Saunderson. ”
In 1642 Charles created him regius professor of di-; Saunder.
vinity at Oxford, with the canonry of Christ church an- son•
nexed : but the civil wars prevented him till 1646 from ^
entering on the office; and in 1648 he was ejected by
the visitors which the parliament had commissioned. He
must have stood high in the public opinion ; for in the
same year in which he was appointed professor of di¬
vinity, both houses of parliament recommended him to
the king as one of their trustees for settling the affairs
of the church. The king, too, reposed great confidence
in his judgment, and frequently consulted him about
the state of his affairs. When the parliament proposed
the abolition of the episcopal form of church-govern¬
ment as incompatible with monarchy, Charles desired
him to take the subject under his consideration, and de¬
liver his opinion. He accordingly wrote a treatise en¬
titled, Episcopacy as established by law in England
not prejudicial to regal power. At taking leave, the
king advised him to publish Cases of Conscience: he
replied, that “ he was now grown old and unfit to
write cases of conscience. ” The king said, “ It was
the simplest thing he ever had heard from him ; for no
young man was fit to be a judge, or write cases of con¬
science. ” Walton, who wrote the life of Dr Saunder-
son, informs us, that in one of these conferences the
king told him (Dr Saunderson), or one of the rest who
was then in company, that “ the remembrance of two
errors did much affect him; which were his assent to
the earl of Strafford’s death, and the abolishing of epis¬
copacy in Scotland; and that if God ever restored him
to the peaceable possession of his crown, he would prove
his repentance by a public confession and a voluntary
penance, by walking barefoot from the Tower of Lon¬
don, or Whitehall, to St Paul’s chutch, and would de¬
sire the people to intercede with God for his pardon. ”
Dr Saunderson was taken prisoner by the parlia¬
ment’s troops and conveyed to Lincoln, in order to
procure in exchange a Puritan divine named Clark,
whom the king’s army had taken. The exchange was
agreed to, on condition that Dr Saunderson’s living
should be restored, and his person and property remain
unmolested. The first of these demands was readily
complied with : and a stipulation was made, that the
second should be observed; but it was impossible to
restrain the licentiousness of the soldiers. They en¬
tered his church in the time of divine service, inter¬
rupted him when reading prayers, and even had the
audacity to take the common prayer book from him,
and to tear it to pieces.
The honourable Mr Boyle, having read a work of
Dr Saunderson’s entitled De jurnmenti obligatione, was
so much pleased, that he inquired at Bishop Barlow,
whether he thought it was possible to prevail on the
author to write Cases of Conscience, if an honorary
pension was assigned him to enable him to purchase
books, and pay an amanuensis. Saunderson told Bar-
low, “ that if any future tract of his could be of any
use to mankind, he would cheerfully set about it with¬
out a pension. ” Boyle, however, sent him a present
of 50/., sensible no doubt, that, like the other royal¬
ists, his finances could not be great. Upon this Saun¬
derson published his book De Conscientin.
When Charles II. was reinstated in the throne, he
recovered his professorship and canonry, and soon after
was promote/* to the bishopric of Lincoln. During
sat; [ ;
under- the two years and a half in which he possessed this new
son‘ office, he spent a considerable sum in augmenting poor
vicarages, in repairing the palace at Budgen, &c. He
died January 29. 1G62-3, in his 76th year.
He was a man of great acuteness and solid judgment.
“ That staid and well-weighed man Dr Saunderson
(says Dr Hammond) conceives all things deliberately,
dwells upon them discreetly, discerns things that differ
exactly, passeth his judgment rationally, and expresses
it aptly, clearly, and honestly. ” Being asked, what
books he had read most ? he replied, that “ he did not
read many books, but those which he did read were
well chosen and frequently perused. ” These he said,
were chiefly three, Aristotle’s Rhetoric, Aquinas’s Se-
ciinda Secuudce, and Tully’s works ; especially his Offi¬
ces, which he had not read over less than 20 times,
and could even, in his old age, recite without book. ”
He added, that “ the learned civilian Dr Zouch had
written Elementa juris prudentice, which he thought he
could also say without book, and that no wise man
could read it too often. ” He was not only conversant
with the fathers and schoolmen, with casuistical and
controversial divinity ; but he was well acquainted with
all the histories of the English nation, was a great an¬
tiquary, hod searched minutely into records, and was
well skilled in heraldry and genealogy.
It will now be proper to give a short account of his
works. 1. In 1615 he published Logiccv Artis Compen¬
dium, which was the system of lectures he had delivered
in the University when he was logic reader. 2. Ser¬
mons, amounting in number to 36, printed in 1681,
folio, with the author’s life by Walton. 3. Nine Cases
of Conscience resolved; first collected in one volume, in
1678, 8vo. 4. De juramenti obligations. This book
rvas translated into English by Charles I. while a pri¬
soner in the isle of Wight, and printed at London in
1665, 8vo. 5. De Obligaiione conscientice. 6. Censure
of Mr Antony Ascharn his book of the confusions and
revolutions of government. 7. Pax Ecclesire, concern¬
ing Predestination, or the five points. 8. Episcopacy,
as established by law in England, not prejudicial to the
regal power, in 1661. Besides these, he wrote two Dis¬
courses in defence of Usher’s writings.
Saundekson, Dr Nicholas, was born at Thurlstone
in Yorkshire in 1682, and may be considered as a
prodigy for his application and success in mathematical
literature in circumstances apparently the most unfa¬
vourable. He lost his sight by the smallpox before he
was a year old. But this disaster did not prevent him
from searching after that knowledge for which nature
had given him so ardent a desire. He was initiated into
the Greek and Roman authors at a free school at Pen-
niston. After spending some years in the study of the
languages, his lather (who had a place in the excise)
began to teach him the common rules of arithmetic.
He soon surpassed his father ; and could make long and
difficult calculations, without having any sensible marks
to assist his memory. At 18 he was taught the princi¬
ples of algebra and geometry by Richard West of Un-
doorbank, Esq. who, though a gentleman of fortune,
yet being strongly attached to mathematical learning,
readily undertook the education of so uncommon a
genius. Saunderson was also assisted in his mathemati¬
cal studies by Dr Nettleton. These two gentlemen
lead books to him and explained them. Pie was next
15 ] ’S A U
sent to a private academy at Altered ft' near Sheffield, Sauuder-
where logic and metaphysics were chiefly taught. But ^n‘
these sciences not suiting his turn of mind, he soon Sj
left the academy. He lived for some time in the coun¬
try without any instructor; but such was the vigour of
his own mind, that few instructions were necessary:
he only required books and a reader.
His father, besides the place he had in the excise,
possessed also a small estate; but having a numerous
family to support, he was unable to give him a liberal
education at one of the universities. Some of his friends,
who had remarked his perspicuous and interesting man¬
ner of communicating his ideas, proposed that he should
attend the university of Cambridge as a teacher of ma¬
thematics. This proposal was immediately put in exe¬
cution ; and he was accordingly conducted to Cam¬
bridge in his 25th year, by Mr Joshua Dunn, a fellow-
commoner of Christ’s college. Though he was not re¬
ceived as a member of the college, he was treated with
great attention and respect. He was allowed a cham¬
ber, and had free access to the library. Mr Whiston
wuis at that time professor of mathematics ; and as he
read lectures in the way that Saunderson intended, it
was naturally to be supposed he would view his project
as an invasion of his office. But, instead of meditating
any opposition, the plan was no sooner mentioned to
him than he gave his consent. Saunderson’s reputa¬
tion was soon spread through the university. When
his lectures were announced, a general curiosity was
excited to hear such intricate mathematical subjects ex¬
plained by a man who had been blind from his infancy.
The subject of his lectures was the Principia Mathemati-
ca, the Optics, and Arithmetica Universalis of Sir Isaac
Newton. He was accordingly attended by a very nu¬
merous audience. It will appear at first incredible to
many that a blind man should be capable of explaining
optics, which requires an accurate knowledge of the
nature of light and colours ; but we must recollect,
that the theory of vision is taught entirely by lines,
and is subject to the rules of geometry.
While thus employed ip explaining the principles of
the Newtonian philosophy, he became known to its il¬
lustrious author. He was also intimately acquainted
with Halley, Cotes, De Moivre, and other eminent ma¬
thematicians. When Whiston was removed from his
professorship, Saunderson was universally allowed to be
the man best qualified for the succession. But to enjoy
this office, it was necessary, as the statutes direct, that
he should be promoted to a degree. To obtain this pri¬
vilege the heads of the University applied to their chan¬
cellor the duke of Somerset, who procured the royal
mandate to confer upon him the degree of master of
arts. He was then elected Lucasian professor of ma¬
thematics in November 1711. His inauguration speech
w'as composed in classical Latin, and in the style of
Cicero, with whose works he had been much conver¬
sant. He now devoted his whole time to his lectures,
and the instruction of his pupils. When George II, in
1728, visited the university of Cambridge, he expressed
a desire to see Professor Saunderson. In compliance
with this desire, he waited upon his majesty in the
senate-house, and was there, by the king’s command,
created doctor of laws. He was admitted a member of
the Royal Society in 1736.
Saunderson was naturally of a vigorous constitution:
3 T 2
S A U [ 516 ] S A V
Saundcr- having confined himself to a sedentafy life, he at
smi* length became scorbutic. For several years he felt a
' numbness-in his limbs, which, in the spring of 1739,
brought on a mortification in his foot; and, unfortu¬
nately, his blood was so vitiated by the scurvy, that
assistance from medicine was not to be expected. When
he was informed that his death was near, he remained
for a little space calm and silent; but he soon recover¬
ed his former vivacity, and coaiversed with his usual
ease. He died on the 19th of April 1739, in the 57th
year of his age, and was buried at his own request in
the chancel at Boxworth.
Fie married the daughter of the reverend Mr Dic¬
kens, rector of Boxworth, in Cambridgeshire, and by
her had a son and a daughter.
Dr Saunderson was rather to be admired as a man of
wonderful genius and assiduity, than to be loved for
amiable qualities. He spoke his sentiments freely of
characters, and praised or condemned his friends as well
as his enemies without reserve. This has been ascribed
by some to a love of defamation ; but perhaps with
more propriety it has been attributed by others to an
inflexible love of truth, which urged him upon all oc¬
casions to speak the sentiments of his mind without dis¬
guise, and without considering whether this conduct
would please or give offence. His sentiments were sup¬
posed unfavourable to revealed religion. It is said, that
he alleged he could not know God, because he was
blind, and could not see his works ; and that, upon
this, Dr Holmes replied, “ Lay your hand upon your¬
self, and the organization which you will feel in your
own body will dissipate so gross an error. ” On the
other hand, we are informed, that he had desired the
sacrament to he given him on the evening before his
death. He was, however, seized with a delirium,
which rendered this impossible.
He wrote a system of algebra, which was published in
2 volumes 4to, at London, after his death, in the year
1740, at the expense of the university of Cambridge.
Dr Saunderson invented for his own use a Palpable
Arithmetic ; that is, a method of performing operations
in arithmetic solely by the sense of touch. It consisted
of a table raised upon a small frame, so that he could
apply his hands with equal ease above and below. On
this table were drawn a great number of parallel linea
which were crossed by others at right angles ; the edges
of the table were divided by notches half an inch distant
from one another, and between each notch there were
five parallels ; so that every square inch was divided
into a hundred little squares. At each angle of the
squares where the parallels intersected one another, a
hole was made quite through the table. In each hole
he placed two pins, a big and a small one. It was by
the various arrangements of the pins that Saunderson
performed his operations. A description of this me¬
thod of making calculations by his table is given under
the article Blind, N° 38, though it is there by mis¬
take said that it was not of his own invention.
His sense of touch was so perfect, that he could dis¬
cover with the greatest exactness the slightest inequality
of surface, and could distinguish in the most finished
works the smallest oversight in the polish. In the cabi¬
net of medals at Cambridge he could single out the Ro¬
man medals with the utmost correctness ; he could also
perceive the slightest variation in the atmosphere. One
day, while some gentlemen, were making observations ?autidtr.
on the sun, he took notice of every little cloud that scn-
passed over the sun which could interrupt their labours. s;iro,fv.nh
When any object passed before his face, even though  ^
at some distance, he discovered it, and could guess its
size with considerable accuracy. When he walked, he
knew when he passed by a tree, a wall, or a house.
He made these distinctions from the different ways his
face was affected by the motion of the air.
His musical ear was remarkably acute ; he could dis¬
tinguish accurately to the fifth of a note. In his youth
he had been a performer on the flute ; and he had made
such proficiency, that if he had cultivated his talents
in this way, he would probably have been as eminent
in music as he was in mathematics. He recognised
not only his friends, but even those with whom he was
slightly acquainted, by the tone of their voice ; and he
could judge with wonderful exactness of the size of
any apartment into which he was conducted.
SAVONA, a large, handsome, and strong town of
Italy, in the territory of Genoa, with two castles, and
a bishop’s see, and containing about 6000 inhabitants
in 1800. It contains several handsome churches. It
was taken by the king of Sardinia in 1746, at which
time it had a capacious harbour; but the people of Ge¬
noa, being afraid that it would hurt their own trade,
choked it up. It is seated on the Mediterranean sea,
in a well-cultivated country, abounding in silk and all
kinds of good fruit. E. Long. 8. 14. N.Lat. 44.21.
SAVONAROLA, Jerome, a famous Italian monk,
was born at Ferrara in 1452, and descended of a noble
family. At the age of 22 he assumed the habit of a
Dominician friar, without the knowledge of his parents,
and distinguished himself in that order by his piety and
ability as a preacher. Florence was the theatre where
he chose to appear; there he preached, confessed, and
wrote. He had address enough to place himself at the
head of the faction which opposed the family of the
Medici. He explained the Apocalypse, and there found,
a prophecy which foret old the destruction of his oppo¬
nents. He predicted a renovation of the church, and
declaimed with much severity against the clergy and the
court of Rome. Alexander VI. excommunicated him,
and prohibited him from preaching. He derided the
anathemas of the pope ; yet he forbore preaching for
some time, and then resumed his employment with more-
applause than before. The pope and the Medici family
then thought of attacking him with his own weapons.,
Savonarola having posted up a thesis as a subject ol dis¬
putation, a Franciscan, by their instigation, offered to
prove it heretical. The Franciscan was seconded by his
brother friars, and Savonarola by his; and thus the two
orders were at open war with each other. To settle the
dispute, and to convince their antagonists ol the superior
sanctity of Savonarola, one of the Dominicans offered
to walk through a fire; and in order to prove his wicked¬
ness, a Franciscan agreed to the same experiment. The
multitude, eager to witness so extraordinary a spectacle,
urged both parties to come to a decision ; and the ma¬
gistrates were constrained to give their consent. Ac-
cording'y, Saturday the 7th of April 1498 was fixed
for the trial. On that day the champions appeared ;
but when they saw one another in cold blood, and be-
he d the wood in flames, they were seized with fear, and
were very anxious to escape by any subterfuge the immi-
nepti
S A V [ 517 ] S A V
narola ncnt danger into which they had rashly thrown them-
II selves* The Dominican pretended he could not enter
‘v0^' , the flames without the host in his hand. This the ma-
^ gistrates obstinately refused to allow ; and the Domini¬
can’s fortitude was not put to the test. The Franciscans
incited the multitude against their opponents, who ac¬
cordingly assaulted their monastery, broke open the
gates which were shut against them, and entered by
force. Upon this, the magistrates thought it necessary
to bring Savonarola to trial as an impostor. He was
put to the torture and examined; and the answers
which he gave fully evinced that he was both a cheat
and a fanatic. He boasted of having frequent conversa¬
tions with God, and found his brother friars credulous
enough to believe him. One of the Dominicans, who
had shared in his sufferings, affirmed, that he saw the
Holy Ghost in the shape of a dove, with feathers of
gold and silver, twice in one day alight on the shoulder
of Savonarola and peck his ear; he pretended also that
he had violent combats with demons. John Francis
Picus earl of Mirandula, who wrote his life, assures us*
that the devils which infested the convent of the Do¬
minicans trembled at the sight of Friar Jerome, and that
out of vexation they always suppressed some letters of
his name in pronouncing it. He expelled them from
all the cells of the monastery. When he went round
the convent sprinkling holy water to defend the friars
from the insults of the demons, it is said the evil spirits
spread thick clouds before him to prevent his passage.—
At length, the pope Alexander VI. sent the chief of
the Dominicans, with bishop Romolino, to degrade him
from holy orders, and to deliver him up to the secular
judges with his two fanatical associates. They were con¬
demned to be hanged and burned on the 23d May 1498.
Savonarola submitted to the execution of the sentence
with great firmness and devotion, and without uttering
a word respecting his innocence or his guilt. He was
46 years of age. Immediately after his death, his Con¬
fession was published in his name. It contained many
extravagancies, but nothing to deserve so severe and in¬
famous a punishment. His adherents did not fail to at¬
tribute to him the power of working miracles; and so
strong a veneration had they for their chief, that they
preserved with pious care any parts of his body which
they could snaich from the flames. The earl of Miran¬
dula, the author of his life, has described him as an emi¬
nent saint. He gravely informs us, that his heart was
found in a river ; and that lie had a piece of it in his
possession, which had been very useful in curing diseases,
and ejecting demons. He remarks, that many of his
persecutors came to a miserable end. Savonarola has
also been defended by Father Quetif, Bzovius, Baron,
and other religious Dominicans.
He wrote a prodigious number of books in favour of
religion. He has left, 1. Sermons in Italian; 2. A Trea¬
tise entitled, Trhnnphus Crucis ; 3. Erudiiorum Confes¬
sor um, and several others. His works have been pub¬
lished at Leyden in 6 vols 12mo.
SAVORY. See Satureia, .BotanyJWe’.r.
SAVOUR. See Taste.,
SAVOY, a country belonging to the king of Sar¬
dinia, lying between France and Italy, and which takes
its name from the Latin Sabaadia, altered afterwards
to Saboia, and Sobojia.
This country was anciently inhabited by the Celtes,
whose descendants therein were subdivided into the AI- Save,?.
lobroges,Nantuates,Veragri, Seduni, Salassi,Centrones, ——v~~
Garocelli, and some others of inferior note.—Of all
these the Allobroges were the most considerable. The
reduction of these tribes, in which Julius Caesar had
made a great progress, was completed under Augustus.
Afterwards this country shared the fate of the rest of
the western empire, and was overrun by the northern
barbarians. The Burgundians held it a considerable
time; but when or how it first became a distinct earldom
under the present family, is what historians are not
agreed about: thus much, however, is certain, that A-
madajus I, who lived in the 12th century, was count of
it. In 1416, Armulseus VIII. was created by the em¬
peror Sigismund duke of Savoy ; and Victor Amadaeus
first took the title of king of Sicily, and afterwards of
Sardinia. See Sardinia. Savoy was lately conquered
by the French, and added to the republic as the 80th
department. As thv arrangement, though decreed by
the convention to last for ever, may probably be of short.,
duration, we shall write of the dutcliy as of an indepen¬
dent state. Savoy, then, is bounded to the south by-
France and Piedment; to the north by the lake of Ge¬
neva, which separates it from Switzerland ; to the west
by France; and to the east by Piedmont, the Mila¬
nese, and Switzerland ; its greatest length being about..
88 miles, and breadth about 76.
As it lies among the Alps, it is full of lofty moun¬
tains, which in general are very barren : many of the
highest of them are perpetually covered with ice and
snow. The summit of those called Montagues Mmutitcs,
“ the cursed mountains, ” are said to be more than two
English miles in perpendicular height above the level of
the lake of Geneva, and the lake itself is much higher
than the Mediterranean. In some few of the valleys
there is corn land and pasture, and a good breed of cat¬
tle and mules ; and along the lake of Geneva, and in
two or three other places, a tolerable wine is produced.
Mount Senis or Cenis, between Savoy and Piedmont,
over which the highway from Geneva to Turin lies, is
as high, if not higher, than the Montagues Maudiies ;
but of all the mountains of the Alps, the highest is
Mount Rochmelon, in Piedmont, between Fertiere and
Novalese. The roads over these mountains are very te¬
dious, disagreeable, and dangerous, especially as huge
masses of snow, called by the Italians avalanches, and
fragments of rocks, frequently roll down into them from
the impending precipices. The way of travelling is ei¬
ther in sledges, chairs, or on the backs of mules: in
some places the path on the brink of the precipices is so
narrow, that there is but just room for a single person
to pass. It begins to snow on these mountains com¬
monly about the beginning of October. In summer, in
the months of July, August, and September, many ot
them yield very fine grass, with a great variety of flowers
and herbs ; and others boxwood, walnuts, chesnuts, and
pines. The height and different combinations of these
mountains, their towering summits rising above one
another and covered with snow, the many cataracts or
falls of water, the noise and rapidity of the river Arc,
the froth and green tincture of its water, the echoes of
its numerous streams tumbling from cliff to cliff, form
altogether a very romantic scene. These mountainous
tracts, notwithstanding their height, are not altogether
free from thundd* in summer, and are also much expos¬
ed
S A V f 518 ] S A U
ed to thick clouds, which sometimes settle unexpected¬
ly on them, and continue several days. There are some
wolves among the thickets; and they abound with hares,
Tupicapvas or chamois, and marmottes. In the lower
parts ot‘ Savoy, there are also bears, wild boars, deer,
and rabbits ; and among the desolate mountains are
found great quantities of rock-crystal. In the glacieres
or ice-valleys, between the high mountains, the air is
extremely cold, even in the months of July and August.
The surface of these ice-valleys looks like a sea or lake,
which, after being agitated by fierce and contrary winds,
lias been frozen ail at once, interspersed with hideous
cracks and chasms. The noise of these cracks, when
first made by the heat of the noon-day sun, and reverbe¬
rated by the surrounding rocks and mountains, is asto¬
nishing. The height of the impending mountains is
such, that the sun’s rays seldom reach the ice-valleys,
except a few hours in the middle of summer. The ava¬
lanches or snow-balls, which the least concussion of the
air will occasion, tumble down the mountains with ama¬
zing rapidity, continually increasing, and carrying all
before them. People have been taken out alive, after
being buried several days under them. The mountain¬
ous nature of this dutchy renders the plough an usaless
instrument of agriculture. The peasants break up the
hungry soil with the pickaxe and spade, and to improve
it carry up mould and dung in baskets. For the pur¬
pose of preserving it from drought in the spring and
summer, they cut small reservoirs above it, the water of
which may be let out at will; and to prevent the earth
from giving way, break the declivity of the mountains
by building walls on the side for its support, which fre¬
quently assume the appearance of ancient fortifications,
and are a very pleasing deception to travellers. The
Savoyards carry their better sort of cheese into Pied¬
mont, as the flavour is much esteemed there ; but they
gain more by their skins of bears, chamois, and bou-
quetins (a species of the wild goat), or by the sale of
grouse and pheasants, which they carry in great num¬
bers to Turin.
The chief rivers are the Rhone, which, on the side
of Geneva, separates Savoy from France ; the Arve,
which has some particles of gold in its sands; the
Isere, the Seran, the Siers, and the Arc. There are
also a great many lakes in this country, which yield
plenty of fish, but none of them are very large, toge¬
ther with medicinal and reciprocating springs and hot
baths.
The language of the common people is a corrupt
French ; but the better sort, and those that live in the
great cities, speak as good French as they do in Paris
itself.
In their temper, however, and disposition, the Sa¬
voyards resemble the Germans more than the French,
retaining still much of the oid German honesty and
simplicity of manners, which no doubt is partly owing
to the poverty and barrenness of the country. To this
also, joined to their longevity and the fruitfulness of
their women, which are the effects of their cheerful dis¬
position, healthy air. activity, temperance, and sobrie¬
ty, it is owing that great numbers of them are obliged
to go abroad in quest of a livelihood, which they earn,
those at least who have no trades, by showing mar¬
mottes, cleaning shoes, sweeping chimneys, and the
like. It is said, that there are generally about 18,000
©f them, young and old, about Paris. In summer they
lie in the streets, and in winter, 40, 50, or 60 of them
lodge together in a room : they are so honest that they
may be trusted to any amount. The children are of¬
ten carried abroad in baskets before they are able (o
walk. In many villages of Savoy there is hardly a
man to be seen throughout the year, excepting a month
or two. Those that have families generally set out
and return about the same season, when their wives
commonly lie in ; and they never fail to bring home
some part of their small earnings. Some of tliem are
such consummate masters of economy, that they set
up shops and make fortunes, and others return home
with a competency for the rest of their days. An old
man is often despatched with letters, little presents,
and some money, from the younger sort, to their pa¬
rents and relations, and brings back with him fresh
colonies, letters, messages, and news. The cultiva¬
tion of their grounds, and the reaping and gathering
in of the harvest and vintage, are generally left to the
women and children ; but all this is to be understood
of the mountainous parts of Savoy. Great numbers
of the mountaineers of both sexes are said to be lame
and deformed; and they are much subject to a kind
of wens, which grow about their throats, and very much
disfigure them, especially the women ; but that is the
only inconvenience they feel from them.
The nobility of Savoy, and the other dominions of
the king of Sardinia, labour under great hardships and
restrictions, unheard of in other countries. A minute
account of them wrill be found in Mr Keysler’s Travels.
In short, the king has left neither liberty, power, nor
much property, to any but himself and the clergy,
whose overgrown w ealth he has also greatly curtailed.
No other religion is professed or tolerated in Savoy
but that of the church of Rome. The decrees, how¬
ever, of the council of Trent are not admitted ; nor are
the churches asylums for malefactors. This country
was annexed to France in 1792, and remained in her
possession till the peace of 1814. At the Congress of
Vienna in 1805, the lordships of Chablais, Faucigny,
and Genevrino, were separated from the Sardinian
dominions.
SAURIN, James, a celebrated preacher, w^asborn
at Nismes in 1677, and was the son of a protestant law¬
yer of considerable eminence. He applied to his studies
with great success ; but at length being captivated
with a military life, he relinquished them for the pro¬
fession of arms. In 1694 he made a campaign as a
cadet in Lord Galloway’s company,and soon afterw'ards
obtained a pair of colours in the regiment of Colonel
Renault which served in Piedmont. But the duke of
Savoy having made peace with France, he returned to
Geneva, and resumed the study of philosophy and the¬
ology under Turretin and other professors. In 1700
he visited Holland, then came to England, where he
remained for several years, and married. In 1705 he
returned to the Hague, where he fixed his residence,
and preached with the most unbounded applause. To
an exterior appearance highly prepossessing, he added
a strong harmonious voice. The sublime prayer which
he recited before his sermon, wras uttered in a manner
highly affecting. Nor was the attention excited by
the prayer dissipated by the sermon : all who heard
it wrere charmed ; and those who came with an inten¬
tion to critisise, wrere carried along with the preacher
and forgot their design. Saurin had, however, one
fault
Savoy,
Saiirin.
V
S A U [ 519 ] S A U
urin. fault in his delivery; he did not manage his'voice with
v -v—' sufficient skill. He exhausted himself so much in his
prayer and the beginning of his sermon, that his voice
grew feeble towards the end of the service. His ser¬
mons, especially those published during his life, are
distinguished for justness of thought, force of reason¬
ing, and an eloquent unaffected style.
The first time that the celebrated Abbadie heard him
preach, he exclaimed, “ Is it an angel or a man who
speaks! ” Saurin died on the 30th of December 1730,
aged 53 years.
He wrote, 1. Sermons, which were published in 12
vols 8vo and 12mo; some of which display great genius
and eloquence, and others are composed with negli¬
gence. One may observe in them the imprecations and
the aversion which the Calvinists of that age were wont
to utter against the Roman Catholics. Saurin was,
notwithstanding, a lover of toleration ; and his senti¬
ments on this subject gave great offence to some of his
fanatical brethren, w7ho attempted to obscure his merit,
and embitter his life. They found fault with him be¬
cause lie did not call the pope Antichrist, and the Ro¬
mish church the ixhore of Babylon. But these prophetic
metaphors, however applicable they may be, were cer¬
tainly not intended by the benevolent religion of Jesus
to be bandied about as terms of reproach ; which would
teach those to rail w'ho use them ; and irritate, without
convincing, those to wdiom they were applied.
Saurin, therefore, while he perhaps interpreted these
metaphors in the same way with his opposers, disco¬
vered more of the moderation of the Christian spirit.
Five volumes of his sermons were published in his life,
the rest have been added since his decease.
2. Discourses Historical, Critical, and Moral, on the
most memorable Events of the Old and New Testa¬
ment. This is his greatest and most valuable work.
It was printed first in two volumes folio. As it was
left unfinished, Beausobre and Roques undertook a
continuation of it, and increased it to four volumes.
It is full of learning: it is indeed a collection of the
opinions of the best authors, both Christian and Hea¬
then ; of the philosophers, historians, and critics, on
every subject which the author examines. 3. The
State of Chistianity in France, 1725, 8vo. In this
book he discusses many important points of contro¬
versy, and calls in question the truth of the miracle
said to be performed on La Fosse at Paris. 4. An
Abridgement of Christian Theology and Morality, in
the form of a Catechism, 1722, 8vo. He afterwards
published an abridgement of this work.
A Dissertation which he published on the Expedi¬
ency of sometimes disguising the Truth, raised a mul¬
titude of enemies against him. In this discourse his
plan was, to state the arguments of those who affirm
that, in certain cases, it is lawful to disguise truth, and
the answers of those who maintain the contrary. He
does not determine the question, but seems, however,
to incline to the first opinion. He was immediately
attacked by several adversaries, and a long contro¬
versy ensued; but his doctrines and opinions were at
length publicly approved of by the synods of Campen
and of the Hague.
The subject of this controversy has long been agi¬
tated, and men of equally good principles have support¬
ed opposite sides. It would certainly be a dangerous
4. • ‘ '
maxim that falsehood can ever be lawful. There may, Saurfn.
indeed, be particular cases, when the motives to it are
of such a nature as to diminish its criminality in a high
degree ; but to lessen its guilt is a very different thing
from justifying it by the laws of morality.
Saurin, Joseph, a geometrician of the academy of
Sciences at Paris, was born at Courtouson in the prin¬
cipality of Orange, in 1659. Flis father, who was a
minister at Grenoble, was his first preceptor. He made
rapid progress in his studies, and was admitted minister
of Eure in Dauphiny when very young: but having
made use of some violent expressions in one of his ser¬
mons, he was obliged to quit France in 1683. He re¬
tired to Geneva, and thence to Berne, where he obtain¬
ed a considerable living. He was scarcely settled in his
new habitation, when some theologians raised a perse¬
cution against him. Saurin, hating controversy, and
disgusted with Switzerland, where his talents were en¬
tirely concealed, repaired to Holland. He returned
soon after to France, and surrendered himself into the
hands of Bossuet, bishop of Meaux, who obliged him
to make a recantation of his errors. This event took
place in 1690. Flis enemies, however, suspected his
sincerity in the abjuration which he had made. It was
a general opinion, that the desire of cultivating science
in the capital of F'rance had a greater effect in produ¬
cing this change than religion. Saurin, however,
speaks of the reformers with great asperity, and con¬
demns them for going too far. “ Deceived in my
opinions concerning the rigid system of Calvin, I no
longer regarded that reformer in any other light but
as one of those extravagant geniuses w'ho are carried
beyond the bounds of truth. Such appeared to me in
general the founders of the reformation ; and that just
idea which I have now obtained of their character has
enabled me to shake off a load of prejudices. I saw in
most of the articles which have separated them from us,
such as the invocation of saints, the worship of images,
the distinction of meats, &c. that they had much exag¬
gerated the inevitable abuses of the people, and imput¬
ed these to the Romish church, as if sanctioned by its
doctrines. Besides, that they have misrepresented those
doctrines which were not connected wdth any abuse.
One thing which surprised me much when my eyes be¬
gan to open, was the false idea, though in appearance
full of respect, for the word of God, which the reform¬
ers entertained of the perfection and perspicuity of the
Holy Scriptures, and the manifest misinterpretation of
passages w hich they bring to support that idea (for that
misinterpretation is a point which can be proved).
Two or three articles still raised some objections in
my mind against the Romish church; to writ, Tran*
substantiation, the adoration of the sacrament, and the
infallibility of the church. The adoration of the sa¬
crament I considered as idolatry, and, on that account,
removed from her communion. But soon alter, the
Exposition of the bishop of Meaux, a work which can
never be sufficiently admired, and his l realise con¬
cerning changes, reversed all my opinions, and ren-»
defed me an enemy to the Reformation. ” It is said
also, that Saurin appeased his conscience by reading
Poiret’s Cogitationes rationales. This book is written
with a view to vindicate the church of Rome from the
charge of idolatry.
If it was the love of distinction that induced Saurin to
return. -*
S A U f 520 ] S A U
SiuiHn return to the Ttoniish church, he v/as not disappointed;
„ II _ for he there met with protection and support. He
mssure. favourably received by Louis XIV., obtained a
pension from him, and was treated by the Academy
of Sciences with the most flattering respect. At that
time (1717), geometry formed his principal occupa¬
tion. He adorned the Journal des Sgavans with many
excellent treatises; and he added to the memoirs of
■ the academy many interesting papers. These are the
only works which he has left behind him. He died at
Paris on the 29th December 1737, in his 78th year,
of a fever. He married a wife of the family of Crou-
sas in Switzerland, who bore him a son, Bernard Jo¬
seph, distinguished as a writer for the theatre.
Saurin was of a bold and impetuous spirit. He had
that lofty deportment which is generally mistaken for
pride. His philosophy was austere ; his opinions of
men were not very favourable; and he often delivered
them in their presence: this created him many enemies.
His memory was attacked after his decease. A letter
was printed in the Mercure Suisse, said to be written by
Saurin from Paris,1 in which he acknowledges that he
had committed several crimes which deserved death.
Some Calvinist ministers published in 1757 two or
three pamphlets to prove the authenticity of that let¬
ter; but Voltaire made diligent enquiry, not only at
the place where Saurin had been discharging the sa¬
cerdotal office, but at the deans of the clergy of that
department. They all exclaimed against an imputa¬
tion so opprobious. It must not, however, be con¬
cealed, that Voltaire, in the defence which he has pub¬
lished in his general history of Saurin’s conduct, leaves
some unfavourable impressions upon the reader’s mind.
He insinuates, that Saurin sacrified his religion to his
interest; that he played upon Bossuet, who believed
he had converted a clergyman, when he had only
given a little fortune to a philosopher.
SAURURUS, a genus of plants belonging to the
heptandria class; and in the natural method ranking
under the second order, Piperitce. See Botany Index.
SAUSSURE, Horace Benedict de, a celebrated
naturalist, was a native of Geneva, and born in 1740.
His father was an intelligent farmer, who lived at
Conches, about half a league from Geneva, which no
doubt contributed, in addition to his active education,
to increase the physical strength of young Saussure,
so requisite for a naturalist who intends to travel. He
went daily to town for public instruction; and as he
lived at the foot of a mountain, he frequently amused
himself in ascending its steep and rugged sides. Thus
environed by the phenomena of nature, and assisted
by study, it was to be expected that he would soon
conceive a predilection for natural history. Botany
was his most early and favourite study, a taste which
was powerfully encouraged by his local situation, and
was the means of introducing him to the acquaintance
of the great Haller, to whom he paid a visit in 1764,
and was astonished at his intimate acquaintance with
every branch of the natural sciences.
His attachment to the study of the vegetable king¬
dom was also increased by his connexion with Bonnet,
who had married his aunt, and who put a proper esti¬
mate on the talents of his nephew. He was at that
time engaged in the examination of the leaves of plants,
to which Saussure was also induced to turn his atten¬
tion, and published the result of his researches under Saussure
the title of Observations on the Bark of Leaves. About —y*
this time the philosophical chair at Geneva became
vacant, and was given to Saussure at the age of 21.
Rewards conferred so early have been thought to ex¬
tinguish in some a zeal for the increase of knowledge,
but this was not the case with De Saussure, who taught
physics and logic alternately with equal success. For
physics, however, he had the greatest taste, as afford¬
ing the means of prosecuting the study of chemistry,
mineralogy, and other kindred sciences.
He now began his travels through the mountains, not
for the purpose of studying, as formerly, their flowery
decorations, but their constituent parts, and the dis¬
position of their masses. During the first fifteen years
of his professorship, lie was alternately engaged in dis¬
charging the duties of his office, and in traversing the
mountains in the vicinity of Geneva; and in this pe¬
riod his talents as a great philosopher were fully dis¬
played. He extended his researches on one side to
the banks of the Rhine, and on the other to the coun¬
try of Piedmont. He travelled to Auvergne to exa¬
mine the extinguished volcanoes, going afterwards to
Paris, England, Holland, Italy and Sicily. It is proper
to remark that these were not mere journeys, but were
undertaken purely with the view of studying nature;
and in all his journeys he was surrounded with such in¬
struments as would be of service to him; together with
plans of his procedure previously drawn up. Readily will
our readers believe this great philosopher when he as¬
serts, that he found such a method extremely beneficial.
ThdTirst volume of his travels through the Alps,
which was published in 1779, contains a circumstantial
description of the environs of Geneva, and an excur¬
sion as far as Chamouni, a village at the foot of Mont-
Blanc. It contains a description of his magnetometer,
with which philosophers will probably be delighted.
In proportion as lie examined mountains, the more
was he persuaded of the importance of mineralogy.;
and that lie might study it with advantage, he acquired
a knowledge of the German language. In the last
volumes of his travels, the reader will see how much
new mineralogical knowledge he had acquired.
During the troubles which agitated Geneva in 1782,
he made his beautiful and interesting experiments on
hygrometry, which he published in 1783. This has
been pronounced the best work that ever came from his
pen, and completely established bis reputation as a
philosopher. De Saussure resigned his chair to his
pupil and fellow labourer, Pictet, who discharged the
duties of his office with reputation, although rendered
difficult to him by succeeding so great a man. He
projected a plan of reform in the education of Gene¬
va, the design of which was to make young people ac¬
quainted with the natural sciences and mathematics at
an early period, and wished that their physical educa¬
tion should not be neglected, for which purpose he
proposed gymnastic exercises. This plan found ad¬
mirers in the city, but the poverty of its funds was an
obstacle in the way of any important innovation. It
was dreaded too, that if established forms w ere chang¬
ed, they might be altered for the worse.
The attention of De Saussure was not wholly confin¬
ed to public education, for he superintended the edu¬
cation of his own two sons and a daughter, who have
since
S' A V l 521 ] S A \t
i<;sxire. sirrce proved themselves worthy of such a father and
II preceptor. In 1786, he published his second volume
l1^1,) of travels, containing a description of the Alps around
** "V~L_ Mont-Bianc, the whole having been examined with the
eve of a mineralogist, geologist, and philosopher. It
contains some valuableexperiments on electricity, and a
description of his own electrometer, said to be the most
perfect we have. To him we are indebted for a ci/a-
fidmeter, for measuring the degree of blueness of the
heavens, which is found to vary according to the height
of the observer ; his diaphanometer for measuring the
'transparency of the atmosphere ; and his anemometer
for ascertaining the force of the winds. lie founded
the Society of Arts, to the operations of which Geneva
is indebted for the state of prosperity it has reached
within the last SO years. Over that society he presided
to the day of his death; and the preservation of it in
prosperity constituted one of his fondest wishes.
In 1794, the health of this eminent man began ra¬
pidly to decline, and a severe stroke of the palsy almost
deprived him totally of the use of his limbs. Such a
condition was no doubt painful to such a man ; but his
intellects still preserved their original activit)', and he
prepared for the press the two last volumes of his tra¬
vels, which appeared in 1796. They contain a great
'mass of new facts and observations, of the last import¬
ance to physical science. During his illness he pub¬
lished Observations on the Fusibility of Stones hy means of
the Bloro-pipe. He was in general a Neptunian, ascrib¬
ing the revolutions of our globe to water, and admitting
the possibility of mountains having been thrown up by
elastic fluids disengaged from the cavities of the earth.
In the midst of his rapid decline he cherished the hopes
of recovery; but his strength was exhausted ; a languor
succeeded the vigour which he had formerly enjoyed ;
his slow pronunciation did not correspond with the viva¬
city of his mind, and was a melancholy contrast to the
pleasantness which he had formerly exhibited. He
tried in vain to procure the re-establish merit of his
health; for all the remedies prescribed by the ablest
physicians were wholly ineffectual. His mind after¬
wards lost its activity', and on the 22d of March 1799,
he finished his mortal career, in the 59th year of his
age, lamented by a family to whom he w’as dear,---
by a country to which he had done honour,—and by
Europe, the knowledge of which he had extended.
SAUVAGES1A, a genus of plants belonging to
the pentandria class, and in the natural method rank¬
ing with those of which the order is doubtful. See
Botany Index.
SAUVEUll, Joseph, an eminent French mathema¬
tician, bom at La Fieche in 1653. He wras absolute¬
ly dumb until he was seven years of age ; and even
then his organs of speech were not evolved so fully as
to permit him to speak without great deliberation. Ma¬
thematics were the only studies he had any relish for,
tind these he cultivated with extraordinary success ; so
that he commenced teacher at 20 years of age, and was
so soon in vogue, that he had Prince Eugene for his
scholar. He became mathematical professor in the
royal college in 1686 ; and ten years after was admitted
■a member of the Academy of Sciences. He died in
1716 ; and his writings, which consist rather of de¬
tached papers than of connected treatises, are all in-
•serted in the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences.
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
He was twice married ; and by the last wife bad a son,
who, like himself, was dumb for the first seven years ‘
of his life.
SAW, an instrument wdiich serves to cut into pieces
several solid matters; as wood, stone, ivory, &c.
The best saws are of tempered steel ground bright
and smooth ; those of iron are only hammer-hardened :
hence the first, besides their being stiffer, are iikewi -e
found smoother than the last. They are known to be
well hammered by the stiff bending of the blade ; and
to be well and evenly ground, by their bending equally
in a bow.
The lapidaries, too, have‘their saw, as well as the
w'orkmen in mosaic; but of all mechanics, none have
so many saws as the joiners, the chief ef which are the
following. The pit-saw, which is a large two-handed
saw, employed for sawing timber in pits, and chiefly
used by the sawers. The whip-saw, which has likewise
two handles, used in sawing such large pieces as the
band-saw will not easily reach. The Band-saw is made
to be used by an individual, of which there are different
kinds, as the frame-saw, which is furnished with cheeks.
By the twisted cords which pass from the upper parts of
these cheeks, and the tongue in the middle of them, the
upper ends are drawn close together, and the lower se"t
further asunder. The tenon-saw7, which being very thin,
has a back to keep it from bending. The compass-saw,
which is Very small, and its teeth usually not set; its use
is to cut a round, or any other compass-kerf, on which
account the edge is made broad, and the back thin, that
it may have a compass to turn in.
At an early period, the trunks of trees were split
with wedges into as many and as thin pieces as possible;
and if it were necessary to have them still thinner, they
were hewn on both sides to the proper size. This
simple and wasteful manner of making boards has been
still continued in some places to the present day. Peter
the Great of Russia endeavoured to put a stop to it, by
forbidding hewn deals to be transported on the river
Neva. The saw, however, though so convenient anil
beneficial, has not been able to banish entirely the prac¬
tice of splitting timber used in building, or in making
furniture and utensils; for we do not here speak of fire¬
wood ; and indeed it must be allowed that this method
is attended with peculiar advantages v/hich that of saw¬
ing can never possess. The wood-splitters perform their
work more expeditiously than saw-ers, and split timber is
much stronger than that which has been sawn ; for the
fissure follows the grain of the wood, and leaves it
whole; whereas the saw7, which proceeds in the line
chalked out for it, divides the fibres, and by these
means lessens its cohesion and solidity. Split timber,
indeed, turns out often crooked and Warped ; but for
many purposes to which it is applied this is not injuri¬
ous, and these faults may sometimes be amended. As
the fibres, however, retain their natural length and di¬
rection, thin boards particularly, can be bent much bet¬
ter. This is a great advantage in making pipe staves,
or sieve frames, which require still more art, and ia
forming various implements of a similar kind.
Our common saw, which requires only to be guided
by the hand, howrever simple it may be, was not known
to the inhabitants of America when they were subdued
by the Europeans. The inventor of this instrument has
been inserted in their mythology by the Greeks, with a
t 3 U place.
S A W [ 522 1 SAW
t;aw place, in which, among their gods, they honoured the
sJIniiil greatest benefactors of the earliest ages. By some he is
, called Talus, and by others Perdix. None except
Pliny make Daedalus the inventor; but Hardouin, in
the passage where this occurs, reads Talus for Daedalus.
Talus is the name of the inventor according to Diodo¬
rus Siculus, Apollcdorus, and others. He was the son
of Daedalus’s sister, and was by his mother placed under
the tuition of her brother, to be instructed in bis art.
Having found the jaw-bone of a snake, he employed it
to tut through a small piece of wood ; and by these
means was induced to fabricate a similar instrument of
iron, that is, to make a saw. This invention, by which
labour is greatly facilitated, excited the envy of his mas¬
ter, and prompted him to put Talus privately to death.
Being asked, when burying the body, what he was de¬
positing in the earth, he replied, a serpent. This am¬
biguous answer discovered the murder; and thus a snake
was the cause of the invention, of the murder, and of
its being brought to light. By others the inventor is
called Perdix, who is supposed to have been the son of
a sister of Daedalus. Perdix did not employ the jaw¬
bone of a snake for a saw, but the back-bone of a fish,
as is mentioned by Ovid.
The saws of the Grecian carpenters had the same
, form, and were made with equal ingenuity as the same
instruments at present. This appears from a painting
preserved among the antiquities of Herculaneum. Two
genii are represented at the end of a bench, consisting
of a long table resting on two four-footed stools ; and
the piece of wood to be sawn through is secured by
cramps. The saw with which the genii are at work
bears a striking resemblance to our frame-saw'. It con¬
sists of a square frame, having a blade in the middle,
the teeth of which are perpendicular to the plane of the
frame. The piece of wmod to be sawn extends beyond
the end of the bench, and one of the workmen appears
standing, and the other sitting on the ground. The
arms in which the blade is fastened, have the same form
as that given to them at present. In the bench are
seen holes, in which the cramps holding the timber
are stuck. They are shaped like the figure 7 ; and
the ends of them reach below the boards which form
the top of it.
SAw-Jish. See Pristis, Ichthyology Index.
Satv-MUIs. The most beneficial improvement of the
operationofsawingwas the invention of saw mills,which
are driven either by water or by wind. Mills of the
first kind were erected so early as the fourth century,
in Germany, on the small river Iluer. The art of cut¬
ting marble with a saw is very ancient. According to
Plim , it was invented in Caria Stones of the soap-
rock kind, which are softer than marble, wTere sawn at
that period ; but it appears that the harder kinds of
stone wore also then sawn; for we are informed respect¬
ing the discovery of a building which was encrusted
with cut agate, carnelian, lapis lazuli, and amethysts.
There is, however, no account in any of the Greek
or Roman wa iters of a mill for sawing wTood ; and as
modern authors speak of saw-mills as new; and uncom¬
mon, it appears that the oldest construction of them has
been forgotten, or that some interesting improvement
has made them appear entirely new.
Becher says that saw-mills were invented in the 17th
century, which is a mistake; for when the infant Henry
sent people to settleinthe island of Madeira, discovered Saw-mi'
in 14-20, he gave orders for saw-mills to be erected, for v—v~
the purpose of sawing into deals the various species of
excellent timber with which the island abounded, and
which were afterwards exported to Portugal. There
was a saw-mill in the city of Breslau about the year
1427- producing a yearly rent of three merks ; and in
1490, the magistrates of Erfurth purchased a forest, in
which they erected a saw-mill, besides renting another
in the neighbourhood. The first saw-mill in Norway
was erected about the year 1530. In the year 1552
there was a saw-mill erected at Joachimsthal, the pro¬
perty of a mathematician called Jacob Geusen. In 1555,
the bishop of Ely, ambassador from Queen Mary of
England to the court of Rome, having seen a saw-mill
in the vicinity of Lyons, the writer of his travels gave
a particular description of it. The first saw-mill was
erected in Holland at Saardam in 1596, the invention
of which is ascribed to Cornelius Cornelissen.
The first mill of this kind in Sweden was erected in
the year 1653. At present, that kingdom possesses
the largest perhaps ever constructed in Europe, where
a water-wheel, 12 feet broad, drives at the same time
72 saw^s.
In England, saw-mills bad at first a similar fate with
printing in Turkey, the ribbon-loom in the dominions
of the church, and the crane at Strasburg. When at¬
tempts wrere made to introduce them, they were vio¬
lently opposed, because it was apprehended that the
sawers wuuld thus be deprived of the means of pro¬
curing subsistence. An opulent merchant in 1767 or
1768, by desire of the Society of Arts, caused a saw¬
mill to be erected at Limehouse, driven by wind ; but
it was demolished by the mob, and the damage was
sustained by the nation, while some of the rioters were
punished. This, however, was not the only mill of
the kind then in Britain ; for at Leith there was one
driven by wind, some years before.
Saw-mills are very common in America, where the
moving power is generally water Some have been
constructed on a very extensive plan ; one in particu¬
lar, we have been informed, has been erected in the
province of New Brunswick, in British America, for
die purpose of cutting planks for the English market.
This machine works 15 saws in one frame, and is ca¬
pable, it is said, of cutting annually not fewer than
8,000,000 feet of timber.
The mechanism of a sawing-mill may be reduced to
three principal things: the first, that the saw is drawn
up and down as long as is necessary, by a motion com¬
municated to the wheel by water: the second, that the
piece of timber to be cut into boards is advanced by an
uniform motion to receive the strokes of the saw ; for
here the wood is to meet the saw, and not the saw to
follow the wood, therefore the motion of the wood and
that of the sawr ought immediately to depend the one
on the other : the third, that where the saw has cut
through the whole length of the pit ce, the whole ma¬
chine stops of itself, and remains immoveable; lest
having no obstacle to surmount, the moving power
should turn the wheel with too great velocity, and
break some part of the machine.
Saw-mills have been distinguished into two kinds,
viz. those which have a reciprocating and those which
have a rotatory motion.
Fig. 1.
SAW [ 523 ] S A W
; -mills. Fig. 1. represents the elevation of a reciprocating
i -v ' saw-mill. A A is the shaft or axle, upon which is fixed
’late the wheel BB (of 17^ or 18 feet diameter), containing
.ixn. biiCkets t0 receive the water by which it is impelled.
3 CC a wheel fixed upon the same shaft containing 96
teeth, to drive the pinion N° 2. having 32 teeth, which
is fastened upon an iron axle or spindle, having a cou¬
pling box on each end that turns the cranks, as DD,
round : one end of the pole E is put on the crank, and
its other end moves on a joint or iron bolt at F, in the
lower end of the frame GG. The crank DD being
turned round in the hole E, moves the frames GG up
and down, and these having saws in them, by this motion
cut the wood. The pinion, N° 2, may work two, three,
or more cranks, and thus move as many frames of saws.
N° 3. an iron wheel having angular teeth, which one
end of the iron K takes hold of, while its other end
rolls on a bolt in the lever HH. One end of this lever
moves on a bolt at I, the other end may lie in a notch
in the frame GG so as to be pushed up and down by it.
Thus the catch K pulls the wheel round, while the
catch L falls into the teeth and prevents it from going
backwards. Upon the axle of N° 3. is also fixed the
pinion N° 4. taking into the teeth the under edge of
the iron bar, that is fastened upon the frame TT, on
which the wood to be cut is laid : by this means the
frame TT is moved on its rollers SS, along the fixed
frame UU ; and of course the wood fastened upon it is
brought forward to the saws as they are moved up and
down by reason of the turning round of the crank DD.
VV, the machine and handle to raise the sluice when
the water is to be let upon the wheel BB to give it mo¬
tion. By pulling the rope at the longer arm of the le¬
ver M, the pinion N°2 is put into the hold or grip of
the wheel CC, which drives it; and by pulling the
rope R, this pinion is cleared from the wheel. N° 5. a
pinion containing 24 teeth, driven by the wheel CC,
and having upon its axle a sheave, on which is the rope
PP, passing to the sheave N° 6. to turn it round ; and
upon its axle is fixed the pinion N° 7. acting on the
teeth in an iron bar upon the frame TT, to roll that
frame backwards when empty. By pulling the rope at
the longer arm of the lever N, the pinion N° 5. is put
into the hold of the wheel CC; and by pulling the
rope O it is taken off the hold. N° 8. a wheel fixed
upon the axle N° 9. having upon its periphery angular
teeth, into which the catch N° 10. takes; and being
moved by the lever attached to the upper part of the
frame G, it pushes the wheel N° 8. round ; and the
catch N° 11. falls into the teeth of the wheel, to pre¬
vent it from going backwards while the rope rolls in its
axle, and drags the logs or pieces of wood in at the
door Y, to be laid upon the moveable frames TT, and
carried forward to the saws to be cut. The catches
N° 10, 11. are easily thrown out of play when they are
not wanted. The gudgeons in the shafts, rounds of the
cranks, spindles, and pivots, should all turn round in
cods or bushes of brass. Z, a door in one end of the
mill-house at which the wood is conveyed out when
cut. WW, walls of the mill-house. QQ, the couples
or framing of the roof. XXX, &c. windows to admit
light to the house.
Saw-mills for cutting blocks of stone, are generally,
though not always, moved horizontally : the horizontal
alternate motion may be communicated to one or more
saws, by means of a rotatory motion, either by the use Saw-mills,
of cranks, &c. or in some such way as the following. '
Let the horizontal wheel ABDC (fig. 2.) drive the pi- pig. g.
nion N, this latter carrying a vertical pin P, at the
distance of about one-third of the diameter from the
centre. This pinion and pin are represented separately
in fig. 3. Let the frame WSTV, carrying four saws, Fig. 5-
marked 1, 2, 3, 4, have wheels V, T, W, W, each
running in a groove or rut, whose direction is parallel
to the proposed direction of the saws; and let a trans¬
verse groove PR, whose length is double the distance of
the pin P from the centre of the pinion, be cut in the
saw frame to receive that pin. Then, as the great
wheel revolves, it drives the pinion, and carries »-ound
the pin P : and this pin, being compelled to slide in t he
straight groove PR, while by the rotation of the pinion
on which it is fixed its distance from the great wheel
is constantly varying, causes the whole saw frame to
approach to and recede from the great wheel alternate¬
ly, while the grooves in which the wheels run confine
the frame so as to move in the direction T £, V v. O-
ther blocks of stone may be sawn at the same time by the
motion of the great wheel, if other pinions and frames
running off in the directions of the respective radii EB,
EA, EC, be worked by the teeth at the quadrantal
points B, A, and C. And the contrary efforts of these
four frames and pinions will tend to soften down the
jolts, and equalize the whole motion.
The same contrivance, of a pin fixed at a, suitable
distance from the centre of a wheel, and sliding in a
groove, may serve to convert a reciprocating into a
rotatory motion : but it will not be preferable to the
common conversion by means of a crank.
When saws are used to cut blocks of stone into pieces
having cylindrical surfaces, a small addition is made to
the apparatus. See figs. 4. and 5. The saw, instead of Fig. 4. & 5.
being allowed to fall in a vertical groove as it cuts the
block, is attached to a lever or beam FG, sufficiently
strong ; this lever has several holes pierced through it,
and so has the vertical piece ED, which is likewise
moveable towards either side of the frame in grooves
in the top and bottom pieces AL, DM. Thus, the
length KG of the radius can be varied at pleasure, to
suit the curvature of NO ; and as the saw is moved to
and fro by proper machinery, in the direction CB,
BC, it works lower and lower into the block, while,
being confined by the beam FG, it cuts the cylindri¬
cal portion from the block P, as required.
When a completely cylindrical pillar is to be cut
out of one block of stone, the first thing will be to ascer¬
tain in the block the position of the axis of the cylinder,
then lay the block so that such axis shall be parallel to
the horizon, and let a cylindrical hole of from one to
two inches diameter be bored entirely through it. Let
an iron bar, whose diameter is rather less than that of
this tube, be put through it, having just room to slide
freely to and fro as occasion may require. Each end of
this bar should terminate in a screw, on which a nut and
frame may be fastened: the nut frame should carry
three flat pieces of wood or iron, each having a slit run¬
ning along its middle nearly from one end to the other,
and a screw and handle must be adapted to each slit;
by these means the frame-work at each end of the bar
may readily be so adjusted as to form equal isosceles or
equilateral triangles ; the iron bar will connect two cor-
3 U 2 responding
SAW f 524 ] SAX
Paw-mills, responding angles of these triangles, the saw to be used
'“'■““v'—-' two other corresponding angles, and another bar of iron
or of wood the two remaining angles, to give sufficient
strength to the whole frame. This construction, it is
obvious, will enable the workmen to place the saw at
any proposed distance from the hole drilled through
the middle of the block; and then, by giving the al¬
ternating motion to the saw frame, the cylinder may
at length be cut from the block, as required.
If it, were proposed to saw a conic frustum from such
a block, then let two frames of wood or iron be fixed
to those parallel ends of the block which are intended to
coincide with the bases of the frustum, circular grooves
being previously cut in these frames to correspond with
the circumferences.of the two ends of the proposed fru¬
stum ; the saw being worked in these grooves will ma¬
nifestly cut the conic surface from the block. This, we
believe, is the contrivance of Sir George Wright.
The best method of drilling the hole through the
middle of the proposed cylinder seems to be this. On a
carriage running upon four low wheels let two vertical
pieces (each having a hole just large enough to admit
the borer to play freely) be fixed two or three feet asun¬
der, and so contrived that the pieces and holes to receive
the borer may, by screws, &e. be raised or lowered at
pleasure, while the borer is prevented from sliding to
and fro by shoulders upon its bar, which are larger than
the holes in the vertical pieces, and which, as the borer
revolves, press against those pieces : let a part of the
boring bar between the two vertical pieces be square,
and a grooved wheel with a square hole of a suitable
size be placed upon this part of the bar ; then the ro¬
tatory motion may be given to the bar by an endless
band which shall pass over this grooved wheel and a
wheel of a much larger diameter in the same plane, the
latter wheel being turned by a winch handle in the
usual way. See Boring of Ordnance.
Circular saws, acting by a rotatory motion, have been
long known in Holland, where they are used for cutting
wood used in veneering. They were introduced into
this country, we believe, by General Bentham, and
are now used in the dock-yard at Portsmouth, and in a
few other places : but they are not, as yet, so generally
adopted as might be wished, considering how well they
are calculated to abridge labour, and to accomplish
with expedition and accuracy what is very tedious and
irksome to perform in the usual way. Circular saws
may be made to turn either in horizontal, vertical, or
inclined planes-; and the timber to be cut may be laid
upon a plane inclined in any direction ; so that it may
be sawn by lines making any angle whatever, or at any
proposed distance from each other. When the saw is
fixed at a certain angle, and at a certain distance from
* the edge of the frame? ad the pieces will be cut of the
same size, without marking upon tnem by a chalk d
line, merely b}' causing them to be moved along, and
keeping one side in contact with the side of the frame ;
for then, as they are brought one by one to touch the
saw revolving on its axle, and are pressed upon it they
are soon cut through.
Mr Smart, of Ordnance-wharf, Westminster-bridge,
has several circular saws, all worked by a horse in a
modei ate sized walk; one of these, intended for cutting
and boring tenonsused in thb gentleman’s hollow masts,
Hg & is represented in fig. 6. NOPQR is a hollow frame,
1.
under which is part ofthewheel-work of the horse-mill. Saw-rmlj
—A, B, DC, E, F, are pulleys, over which pass straps Saxe-I
or endless bands, the parts of which out of sight run
upon the rim of a large vertical wheel : by means of
this simple apparatus, the saws S, S', are made to re¬
volve upon their axles with an equal velocity, the same
band passing round the puileys D, C, upon those axles ;
and the rotatory motion is given to the borer G by the
band passing over the pulley A. The board I is in¬
clined to the horizon in an angle of about 30 degrees;
the plane of the saw S' is parallel to that of the board I,
and about a quarter of an inch distant from it, while
the plane of the saw S is vertical, and its lowest point
at the same distance from the board I. Each piece of
wood K, out of which the tenon is to be cut, is four
inches long, an inch and a quarter broad, and 5-eighths
of an inch thick. One end of such piece is laid so as
to slide along the ledge at the lower part of the board
I; and as it is pushed on, by means of the handle FI, it
is first cut by the saw S', and immediately after by the
saw S : after this the other end is put lowest, and the
piece is again cut by both saws : then the tenon is ap¬
plied to the borer G, and as soon as a hole is pierced
through it, it is dropped into the box beneath. By
this process, at least 30 tenons may be completed in a
minute, with greater accuracy than a man could make
one in a quarter of an hour, with a common hand-saw
and gimblet. The like kind of contrivance may, by
slight alterations, be fitted for many other purposes,
particularly all such as may require the speedy sawing
of a great number of pieces into exactly the same size
and shape. Gregory's Mechanics, II.
SAXE, Maurice count of, was born the 13th Oc¬
tober 1696. Fie was the natural son of Frederic Au¬
gustus II. elector of .Saxony, and king of Poland, and
of the countess of Konigsmarc, a Swedish lady, cele¬
brated both for her wit and beauty. He was educat*
ed along with Frederic Augustus the electoral prince,
afterwards king of Poland. His infancy announced
the future warrior. Nothing could prevail on him ter-
apply to his studies but the promise of being allowed*,
after he had finished his task, to mount on horseback,
or exercise himself with arms.
He served his first campaign in the army commanded!
by prince Eugene and the duke of Marlborough, wheh
only twelve years old. He signalized himself at the
sieges of Tournay and Mons, and particularly at the
battle of Malplaquet. In the evening of that memo¬
rable day, he was heard to say, ‘c I’m content with my^
day’s work.” During the campaign of 1710, Prince
Eugene and the duke of Marlborough made many
public encomiums on his merit. Next year the young;
count accompanied the king of Poland to the siege of
Stralsund, the strongest place in Pomerania, and dis¬
played the greatest intrepidity. He swam across the
river in sight of the enemy, with a pistol in hia hand.
His valour shone no less conspicuously on the bloody
clay of Gaedeibusck, where he commanded a regiment
of cavan-y. He had a horse killed under him, alien
he had three times rallied his regiment, and Idd them
on to the charge.
Soon after that campaign, Ills mother prevailed oiv
him to marry the countess of Lubin, a lady both rich
and beautiful. This union lasted but a short time. In
1721, the count procured a dissolution of the marriage ?•
Saw Mill, .
F/,,1.
Plate lyyy'lxix.
PL/ci.
Pi </- A
PL/. A.
/■:. a fi/, stv/fif *.
SAX [5
Saxe, a step of which he afterwards repented. The coun-
-v—J tess left him with regret; but this did not prevent her
from marrying soon after. The count of Saxe was
too fond of pleasure and variety to submit to the du¬
ties which marriage imposes. In the midst, however,
of the pleasures in which he sometimes indulged, he
never lost sight of his profession. He carried along
with him wherever he went a library of military hooks ;
and even when he seemed most taken up with his
pleasures, he never failed to spend an hour or two in
private study.
In 1717 he went to Hungary, wdiere the emperor
had an army of 15,000 men under the command of
Prince Eugene. Young Count Saxe was, present at
the siege of Belgrade, and at a battle which the prince
gained over the Turks. On his return tO'Poland in
1718, he was made a knight of the Golden Eagle.
The wars in Europe being concluded by the treaties
of Utrecht and Passarowitz, Count Saxe went to
France. Fie had always professed a partiality for that
country. French, indeed, was the only foreign lan¬
guage which during his infancy he was willing to learn,
lie spent his whole time during the peace in studying
mathematics, fortification, and mechanics, sciences
which exactly suited his genius. The mode of exer¬
cising troops had struck his attention when very young.
At 16 he invented a new exercise, which was taught
in Saxony wfith the greatest success. Having obtain¬
ed a regiment in. France in 1722* he formed it him¬
self according to his new plan. From that moment
the Chevalier Folard, an excellent judge of military
talents, predicted that he would be a great man.
In 1726 the states of Courland chose him for their
sovereign. But both Poland and Russia rose in arms
to oppose him. The Czarina wished to bestow the
dutchy on Menzikoff, a happy adventurer, who from
a pastry-cook’s hoy, became a general and a prince.
Menzikoff sent 800 Russians to Milan, where they be¬
sieged the new-chosen duke in his palace. Count Saxe,
who had only 60 men, defended himself with astonish¬
ing intrepidity. The siege was raised, and the Rus¬
sians obliged to retreat. Soon after be retired to Us-
maiz, and prepared to defend his people against the
two hostile nations. Here he remained with only 300
men, till the Russian general approached at the head
of 4000 to force his retreat. That general invited the
count to a conference, during which he intended to
surprise him, and take him prisoner. The count, in¬
formed of the plot, reproached him for his baseness,
and broke up the conference. About this time he
wrote to France for men and money. Mademoiselle le
Couvreur, a famous actress, pawned her jewels and
plate, and sent him the sum of 40,000 livres. This
actress ha<l formed his mind for the fine arts. She had
made him read the greater part of the French poets,
and given him a taste for the theatre, which he retain¬
ed even in the camp. The count, unable to defend
himself against Russia and Poland, was obliged in the
year 1729 to leave his new dominions, and retire into
France. It is said that Anne Iwanowa, ducchess dow¬
ager of Courland, and second daughter of the tzar
Iwan Alcxiowitz, had given him hopes of marriage, and
abandoned him at that time because she despaired of
fixing, his wavering passion.—This inconstancy lost
25
j S A X
him not only Courland, but the throne of Russia it¬
self, which that princess afterwards filled. l-
_ Count Saxe, thus stript of his territories, devoted
himself for some time to the study of mathematics. He
composed also, in 13 nights, and during the intervals
of an ague, his Reveries, which he corrected afterwards.
Tins book is written in an incorrect but forcible style ;
it is full of remarks both new and profound, and is
equally useful to the soldier and the general.
The. death of the king of Poland his father in 1733,_
kindled a new war in Europe. His brother, the elector
of Saxony, offered him the command of all his forces,
but be preferred the French service, and repaired to-
the marechal of Berwick’s army, which wras encamp¬
ed on the Rhine. “ Count,” said that general, who
was preparing to attack the enemy’s entrenchments
at Etlinghen, “ I was going to send for 3000 men,
but your arrival is of more value than theirs. ” When
the attack began, the count, at the head of a regiment,
of grenadiers, forced the enemy’s lines, and by his
bravery decided the victory. He behaved at the siege
of Philipsburgh with no less intrepidity. For these
services he was, in 1734, rewarded with the rank of
lieutenant-general. Peace was concluded in 1736 j
but the death of Charles VI., emperor of Germany,
kindled a new war almost immediately.
Prague was besieged by the Count of Saxe in 1741,
near the end of November, and taken the same month’
by assault. The conquest of Egra followed that of
Prague. It was taken a few days after the trenches
were opened. This success gave so much joy to the
emperor Charles VII., that he wrote a congratulatory
letter to the conqueror with his own hands.
In 1744 he was made mareehal of Fi ance, and com¬
manded a part of the French army in Flanders. Dur¬
ing that campaign he displayed the greatest military
conduct. Though the enemy was superior in num¬
ber, he observed their motions so skilfully that they
could do nothing.
In January 1745, an alliance was concluded at War*
sovia between the queen of Hungary, the king of
England, and the States of Holland. The ambassador
of the States General, meeting Marechal Saxe one day
at Versailles, asked his opinion of that treaty. “ I
think (says he), that if the king my master .would give,
me an unlimited commission, I would read the origi¬
nal at the Hague before the end of the year. ” This
answer was not a bravado -t the marechal was capable-
of performing it.
lie went soon after, though exceedingly ill, to take
the command of the French army in the Low Coun¬
tries. A gentleman seeing the feebie condition in which
he left Paris, asked him how he could in that situa¬
tion undertake so great an enterprise. “ The question
(replied he) is not about living, but setting out. ”—
Soon after the opening of the campaign, the battle of
Fontenoy was fought. Marechal Saxe was at the point
of death, yet he caused himself to be put into a litter,
and carried round all the posts. During the action he
mounted on horseback, though he was so very weak
that his attendants dreaded every moment to see him -
expire. The victory of Fontenoy, owing entirely to his.
vigilance and capacity, was followed by the reduction
of Tournay, Bruges, Ghent, Oudenard, Ostend, Ath,
anti
fi-AT*?-,-
SAX [ 52G ] SAX
and Brussels: This last city was taken on the 28th Fe¬
bruary 1746 ; and very soon after the king sent to the
marechal a letter of naturalization conceived in the
inost flattering terms. The succeeding campaigns
gained him additional honours. After the victory of
llaucoux, which he gained on the 11th October 1746,
the king of France made him a present of six pieces
of cannon. He was, on the 12th of January of the fol¬
lowing year, created marechal of all the French armies,
and, in 1748, commander-general of all those parts of
the Netherlands which were lately conquered.
Holland now began to tremble for her safety. Mae-
stricht and Bergen-op-Zoom had already fallen, and
nothing but misfortunes seemed to attend the further
prosecution of the war. The States General, there¬
fore, offered terms of peace, which were accepted, and
a treaty concluded on the 18th October 1748.
Marechal Saxe retired to Chambord, a country seat
which the king of France had given him. Some time
after, he went to Berlin, where the king of Prussia re¬
ceived him as Alexander would have received Caesar.—
On his return to France, he spent his time among men
of learning, artists, and philosophers. He died of a
fever, on the SOth November 1750, at the age of 54.
Some days before his death, talking to M. Senac his
physician about his life, “ It has been (says he) an
excellent dream. ” He was remarkably careful of the
lives of his men. One day a general officer was pointing
out to him a post which would have been of great use.
“ It will only cost you (says he) a dozen grenadiers. ”
“ That would do very w^ell, ” replied the marechal,
“ were it only a dozen lieutenant-generals. ”
It was impossible for Marechal Saxe, the natural
brother of the king of Poland, elected sovereign of
Courland, and possessed of a vigorous and restless ima¬
gination, to be destitute of ambition. He constantly
entertained the notion that he would be a king. After
losing the crown of Russia by his inconstancy in love,
he fox-med, it is said, the project of assembling the
Jews, and of being the sovereign of a nation which for
1700 years had neither possessed chief nor country.
When this chimerical idea could not be realized, he
cast his eyes upon the kingdom of Corsica. After
failing in this project also, he was busily employed in
planning a settlement in some part of America, par¬
ticularly Brazil, when death surprised him.
He had been educated and died in the Lutheran re¬
ligion. “ It is a pity (said the queen of France, when
she heard of his death) that we cannot say a single
De prqfundis {prayer for the dead) for a man who has
made us sing so many Te Deums. ” All France la¬
mented his death.
By his will, which is dated at Paris, March 1.1748,
he directed that his body should be buried in quicklime:
“ that nothing (says he) may remain of me in this
world but the remembrance of me among my friends. ”
These orders, however, were not complied with; for
his body was embalmed, put into a leaden coffin, which
was inclosed in another of copper, and this covered
with one of wood, bound about with iron. His heart Saxe
was put into a silver gilt box, and his entrails into an- ll
other coffin. Louis XV. was at the charge of his fu- Grammati
neral. By his order his corpse was interred with great Cus.
pomp and splendour in the Lutheran church of St 
Thomas, at Strasbui’g, on the 8th February 1751.
The marechal was a man of ordinary stature, of a
robust constitution, and extraordinary strength. To
an aspect, noble, warlike, and mild, he joined the ex¬
cellent qualities of the heart. Affable in his manners,
and disposed to sympathize with the unfortunate, his
generosity sometimes carried him beyond the limits of
his fortune. On his death-bed he reviewed the errors
of his life with remorse, and expi’essed much peni¬
tence.
The best edition of his Reveries was printed at Pa¬
ris 1757, in two vols 4to. It was compared with the
greatest attention with the original manuscript in the
king’s library. It is accompanied with many designs
exactly engi'aved, and a Life of the Author. The Life
of Marechal Saxe was written by M. d’Espagnac, two
vols 12mo. This history is written in the panegyrical
style. The author is, however, impartial enough to
remark, that in the three battles upon which the repu¬
tation of Marechal Saxe is founded, he engaged in the
most favoui’able circumstances. “ Never did a gene¬
ral (says he) stand in a more advantageous situation.
Honoured with the confidence of the king, he was not
restrained in any of his projects. He always com¬
manded a numerous army : his soldiei’s were steady,
and his officers possessed great merit.
SAXIFR AGA, Saxifrage, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the decandria class ; and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 13th order, Succulentce. See
Botany Index.
S AXO-Grammaticus, descended from an illustri-Coxe’sTm
ous Danish (a) family, was born about the middle of the*^inta
12th centui'y. Stephens, in his edition of Saxo-Gram--Denmor ‘
maticus, printed at Soroe, indubitably pi'oves, that he
must have been alive in 1156, but cannot ascertain the
exact place and time of his birth. See Stephens’s Pro¬
legomena to the Notes on Saxo Grammaticus, p. 8, to
24; also Holberg, vol. i. p. 269; and Mallet’s Noi’th.
Antiq. vol. i. p. 4. On account of his uncommon learn¬
ing, Saxo was distinguished by the name of Grammati¬
cus. He was provost of the cathedral church of Roskild,
and warmly patronized by the learned and warlike Ab-
salon, the celebrated archbishop of Lunden, at whose
instigation he wrote the History of Denmark. His epi¬
taph, a dry panegyric in bad Latin verses, gives no ac¬
count of the era of his death, which happened, accord¬
ing to Stephens, in 1204. His history, consisting of
16 books, begins from the earliest account of the Danish
annals, and concludes with the year 1186. According
to the opinion of an accurate writer, the first part, which Holberg.
relates to the origin of the Danes, and the reigns of the
ancient kings, is full of fables; but the eight last books,
and particularly those which regard the events of his
own times, deserve the utmost credit. He wrote in
Latin;
(a) Some authors have erroneously conjectured from his name Saxo, that he was born in Saxony; but Saxe
was no uncommon appellation among the ancient Danes. See Olaus Wormius Monumenta Danica, p. 186, and
Stephens’s Prolegomena, p. 10.
S A X
[ 527 ]
S A 'X
Saxo- Latin ; the style, if we consider the barbarous age in
rammati- ]ie flourished, is in general extremely elegant, but
cl||s rather too poetical for history. Mallet, in his Histoire
Saxony, de Dannemarc, vol. i. p. 182, says, “ that Sperling, a
.—y—— writer of great erudition, has proved, in contradiction
to the assertions of Stephens and others, that Saxo-
Grammaticus was secretary to Absalon; and that the
Saxo, provost of Roskild, was another person, and lived
earlier.”
SAXONY, the name of two circles of the German
empire, a kingdom, and a dutchy of the same. The
lower circle is bounded to the south by the circle of Up¬
per Saxony, and a part of that of the Upper Rhine ;
to the north by the dutchy of Sleswick, belonging to
the king of Denmark, and the Baltic ; to the west, by
the circle of Westphalia and the North sea ; and to die
east by the circle of Upper Saxony. The states be¬
longing to it are the dukes and princes of Magdeburg
and Bremen, Zell, Grubenhagen, Calenburg, Wolfen-
buttle, Halberstadt, Mecklenburg-Schwerin, Mecklen¬
burg-Gustro, Holstein-Gluckstadt, Holstein-Gottorf,
Hildesheim, Saxe-Lawenburg; the archbishopric of Lu
beck; the principalities of Schwerin, Ratzeburg, Blan-
kenburg, Ranzau; the imperial cities of Lubeck, Gotz-
lar, Muhlhauscn, Nordhausen, Hamburg, and Bremen.
The dukes of Bremen and Magdeburg are alternately
directors and summoning princes; but, ever since the
year 1682, the diets which used generally to be held at
Brunswick or Lunenburg have been discontinued. To¬
wards the army of the empire, which, by a decree of
the empire in 1681, was settled at 40,000 men, this
circle was to furnish 1322 horsemen and 2707 foot;
and of the 300,000 florins granted to the imperial chest
in 1707, its quota was 31,271 florins ; both which as¬
sessments are the same with those of Upper Saxony, Bur¬
gundy, Swabia, and Westphalia. The inhabitants of
this circle are almost all Lutherans.
The circle of Upper Saxony is bounded by that of
Franconia, the Upper Rhine, and Lower Saxony ; and
also by the Baltic seA, Prussia, Poland, Silesia, Lusatia,
and Bohemia. It is of great extent, and contains the
following states; viz. the electors of Saxony and Bran¬
denburg,Saxe-Weimar, Saxe-Eisenach, Saxe-Cobourg,
Saxe-Gotha, Saxe-Altenburg, Saxe-Querfurt, the Hi¬
ther and Farther Pomerania, Camin, Anhalt, Quidlen-
burg, Gernrode,Walkenried,Schwarzburg, Sondershau-
sen, Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, Mansfeld, Stolberg. Bar-
by, the counts of Reussen,and the counts of Schonberg.
No diets have been held in this circle since the year
1683. The elector of Saxony has always been the sole
summoning prince and director of it. Most of the in¬
habitants profess the Protestant religion. When the
whole empire furnishes 40,000 men, the quota of this
circle was 1322 horse and 2707 foot. Of the 300,000
florins granted by the empire in 1707, it contributed
only 31,271 florins, 28 kruitzers, being rated no high
er than those of Westphalia, Lower Saxony, Swabia,
and Burgundy, though it is much larger. Agreeable
to a resolution and regulation in 1654, this circle was
to nominate only two assessors of the chamber-court.
The electorate of Saxony was raised to the rank of
a kingdom by Bonaparte in 1806, and still retains the
dignity. Previous to the overthrow of the French
power in 1814, it consisted of the dutchy of Saxony,
the greatest part of the margravate of Meissen, a part
3
of Vogtland, and the northern half of the landgravate Saxony,
of Thuringia. The Lusatias also, and a part of the
country of Henneberg, belong to it, though no part of
this circle ; but by an act of the Congress of Vienna
in 1814, one half of the territory, and two-fifths of the
population were given to Prussia. The soil of the
kingdom of Saxony is in general exceeding rich and
fruitful, yielding corn, fruits, and pulse in abundance,
together with hops, flax, hemp, tobacco, aniseed, wild
saffron, wood : and in some places woad, wine, coals,
porcelain, clay, terra sigillata, fuller’s-earth, fine shi¬
ver, various sorts of beautiful marble, serpentine stone,
and almost all the different species of precious stones.
Sulphur also, alum, vitriol, sand, and free-stone, salt-
springs, amber, turf, cinnabar, quicksilver, antimony,
bismuth, arsenic, cobalt, and other minerals, are found
in it. This country, besides the above articles, con¬
tains likewise valuable mines of silver, copper, tin, lead,
and iron. In 1790, the produce of the mines was e-
stimated at 2,000,000 crowns. The country abounds
in many places with horned cattle, sheep, horses, and
venison. The principal rivers by which it is watered
are the Elbe, the Schwerze-Elster, the Mulde, the
Saaie, the Unstrut, the Weisse-Elster, and the Pieisse.
These rivers, as well as the lakes and rivulets, abound
in fish; and in the White-Elster are found beautiful
pearls. The kingdom is extremely well cultivated and
and inhabited. The population, in 1802, was estimat¬
ed at 2,150,000 ; but by the cession in 1814, it is re¬
duced to 1,200,000. The superficial extent of the
kingdom is now about 7200 English square miles ; be¬
fore the cessions, it was about 15,200. The provin¬
cial diets here consist of three classes. The first is
composed of the prelates, the counts, and lords, and
the two universities of Leipsic and Wittenberg. To ,
the second belong the nobility in general, immediate
or mediate, that is, such as stand immediately under
the fief chancery or the aulic judicatories, and such as
are immediately under the jurisdiction of the amtman.
The third class is formed of the town;; in general. The
general provincial diets are ordinarily held every six
years ; but there are others called selection diets, which
are convened commonly every two years. We would
here observe, that not only these diets, but those in
most of the other states of Germany, are at present
extremely insignificant and unimportant, retaining lit¬
tle more than the shadow of their former power and
privileges ; for even the petty princes, though they de¬
pend upon their more potent neighbours, and must be
careful not to give them any umbrage, are almost as
absolute in their respective territories as the grand
seignior himself. As to religion, it was in this coun¬
try that the reformation took its rise in the 16th cen¬
tury, to which it hath ever since adhered, according
to the doctrines of Luther. * The two late electors *Sce
when they embraced Popery in order to qualify them--/,jn’
selves to be elected kings of Poland, gave the most so¬
lemn assurances to their people, that they would invio¬
lably maintain the established religion and its profes¬
sors in the full and free enjoyment of all their eccle¬
siastical rights, privileges, and prerogatives whatso¬
ever, in regard to churches, worship, ceremonies, us¬
ages, universities, schools, benefices, incomes, profits,
jurisdictions, and immunities. The royal family still
continue Roman catholics, though they have lost the
crown
S AX [ 528 ] SAX
fersonv. trown of Poland, for which they at first embraced
-—tv-—* Popery. With respect to ecclesiastical matters, the
country is divided into parishes, and these again into
spiritual inspections and consistories, all subordinate
to the ecclesiastical council and upper consistory of
-Dresden, in which city and Leipsic the Calvinists and
Roman Catholics enjoy the free exercise of their reli¬
gion. Learning flourishes in this kingdom ; in which,
besides the free schools and gymnasia in most of the
chief towns, is the celebrated university of Leipsic, in
which are societies for the liberal arts and the Ger¬
man language; and in the town are booksellers and
printers of the greatest eminence. A great variety of
manufactures are also carried on in this country. The
principal are those of fine and coarse linen, thread,
fine lace, paper, fine glasses and mirrors ; porcelain,
equal if not superior to that of China ; iron, brass, and
steel wares ; manufactures of gold and silver, cotton,
wool, and silk ; gloves, caps, hats and tapestry; in
which, and the natural productions mentioned above,
together with dyeing, an important foreign commerce
is carried on. Leipsic is one of the most industrious
places. In 1800 it had eight manufactories of wax¬
cloth, eight of velvet and other silk stuffs, two of silk-
stockings, two of painted paper ; two extensive and
excellent type-foundries, fifteen printing establish¬
ments, besides others of tobacco, leather, &c. But
the mining district round Freyberg is the most indus¬
trious of the whole kingdom. Here, besides the ex¬
tensive establishments for the amalgamation and puri¬
fication of silver, there are foundries of canon and
bells, several manufactures of gold and silver lace, of
woollen cloth, of cotton yarn, &c. At Chemnitz,
there were, in 179S, 1626 weavers, and twelve esta¬
blishments for printing cotton.
Before the abolition of the electorate, the titles of
the elector of Saxony were, duke of Saxony, Juliers,
'-Cleve, and Berg; as also of Engern and Westphalia,
arch-marshal and elector of the Holy Roman empire,
landgrave in Thuringia, margrave of Meissen, and of
Upper and Lower Lusatia, burgrave of Magdeburg,
princely count of Ilenneberg, count of La Mark, Ra-
vensberg, Barby, and Hanau, and lord of Ravensttin.
Among the electors he was reckoned the sixth, as
great marshal of the empire, of which he was also vi¬
car, during an interregnum, in all places not subject
to the vicariate of the count}' palatine of the Rhine.
He was moreover sole director of the circle ; and in
the vacancy of the see of Mentz claims the directori-
um at the diet of the empire. His matricular assess¬
ment, on account of the electorate, was 1984 florins,
besides what he paid for other districts and territories.
To the chamber-courts he contributed, each term, the
sum of 1545 rix-dollars, together with 83 rix-dollars
and 62 kruitzers on account of the county of Mans¬
field. In this kingdom, subordinate to the privy coun¬
cil, are various colleges for the departments of war,
foreign affairs, the finances, fiefs, mines, police, and
ecclesiastical affairs, together with high tribunals and
courts of justice, to which appeals lie from the infe¬
rior. The revenues of the king of Saxony amounted
to about 900,000/. in 1816. They arise from the or¬
dinary and extraordinary subsidies of the states ; his
own demesnes, consisting of several bailiwics ; the im¬
post on beer, and the fine porcelain of the country j
tenths of corn, fruit, wine, &c. ; his own silver mines, Saxony,
and the tenths of those that belong to individuals.v—
The kingdom, however, is at present deeply in debt.
The regular troops amount to 12,000 men, exclusive
of the militia of the ban, tiie arriere-ban, and the bo¬
dy of miners and hunters, who are obliged in time of
war to hear arms. The whole kingdom is divided in¬
to circles.
Saxony was raised to the rank of a kingdom by
Bonaparte in 1806. In the following year, Prussia
was compelled to cede to Saxony the district of Cott¬
bus, and at the same time four-fifths of her Polish ter¬
ritories were disunited from her, and erected into a
principality, under the name of the dutchy of War¬
saw, and the sovereignty given to the King of Saxo¬
ny. The dutchy was afterwards enlarged by cessions
from Austria, and continued subject to the king of
Saxony till 1814, when it was transferred to Russia.
The country of Saxony is remarkable for being the
mother of the present English nation ; hut concern¬
ing the Saxons themselves, previous to that period,
we have very few particulars. The Saxons (says Mr
Whitaker) have been derived by our historians from
very different parts of the globe ; India, the north of
Asia, and the forests of Germany. And their ap¬
pellation has been equally referred to very different
causes ; the name of their Indian progenitor, the plun¬
dering disposition of their Asiatic fathers, and the
short hooked weapons of their warriors. But the real
origin of the Saxons, and the genuine derivation of
their name, seem clearly to be these.
In the earlier period of the Gallic history, the Cel-
tse of Gaul crossed the Rhine in considerable numbers,
and planted various colonies in the regions beyond it.
Thus the Volcat Tectosages settled on one side of the
Hercynian forest and about the banks of the Neckar;
the Helvetii upon another and about the Rhine and
Maine; the Boii beyond both; and the Senones in the
heart of Germany. Thus also we see the Treviri, the
Nervii, the Suevi, and the Marcomanni, the Quad!,
the Venedi, and others, in that country; all .plainly
betrayed to be Gallic nations by the Gallic appella¬
tions which they bear, and all together possessing the
greatest part of it. And, even as late as the conclu¬
sion of the first century, we find one nation on the
eastern side of this great continent actually speaking
the language of Gaul, and another upon the northern
using a dialect nearly related to the British. But as
all tlie various tribes of the Germans are considered
by Strabo to be yir/inoi ruXxlat, or genuine Gauls in
their origin ; so those particularly (hat lived immedi¬
ately beyond the Rhine, arid are asserted by Tacitus
to be indubitably native Germans, are expressly deno¬
minated raXcilxt, or Gauls, by Diodorus, and as ex¬
pressly declared by Dio to have been distinguished by
the equivalent appellation of Cclta from the earliest
period. And the broad line of nations, which ex¬
tended along the ocean, and reached to the borders
of Scythia, was all known to the learned in the days
of Diodorus, by the same significant appellation of
r«A«|ce<, or Gauls.
OF these the most noted were the Si Cambri and
Cimbri; the former being seated near the channel of
the Rhine, and the latter inhabiting the peninsula of
Jutland. And the denominations of both declare their
original,;
SAX [ 529 ] S C A
sony. original; and show them to have been derived from
v—the common stock of the Celtae, and to be of the same
Celtic kindred with the Cimbri of our own Sommerset-
shire, and the Cymbri or Cambrians of our own Wales.
The Cimbri are accordingly denominated Celta by
Strabo and Appian. And they are equally asserted
to be Gauls by Diodorus ; to be the descendants of
that nation which sacked the city of Rome, plunder-
. ed the temple of Delphi, and subdued a great part of
Europe and some of Asia.
Immediately to the south of these were the Saxons,
extending from the isthmus of the Chersonesus to the
current of the Elbe. And they were equally Celtic in
their origin as their neighbours. They were denomi¬
nated Ambrones as well as Saxons; and, as such, are in¬
cluded by Tacitus under the general appellation of Cim¬
bri, and comprehended in Plutarch under the equal
one of Celto-Sci/thre. And the name of Ambrones ap¬
pears particularly to have been Gallic; being common
to the Saxons beyond the Elbe, and the Ligurians in
Cisalpine Gaul; as both found to their surprise, on the
irruption of the former into Italy with the Cimbri. And,
what is equally surprising, and has been equally unno¬
ticed by the critics, the Welsh distinguish England by
the name of Loegr or Liguria, even to the present
moment. In that irruption these Saxons, Ambrons,
or Ligurians, composed a body of more than 30,000
men, and were principally concerned in cutting to pieces
the large armies of Manlius and Csepio. Nor is the
appellation of Saxons less Celtic than the other. It
was originally the same with the Belgic Suessones of
Gaul; the capital of that tribe being now intitled Soi-
sons by the French, and the name of the Saxons pro¬
nounced Saisen by the Welsh, Sason by the Scotch, and
Sasenach or Saxsenach by the Irish. And the Suessones
or Saxones of Gaul derived their own appellation from
the position of their metropolis on a river, the stream at
Soisons being now denominated the Aisne, and former¬
ly the Axon; Uesson or Axon importing only waters
or a river, and S-uess-on or S-ax-on on the waters or
the river. The Suessones, therefore, are actually de¬
nominated the Uessones by Ptolemy ; and the Saxones
are actually intitled the Axones by Lucan.
These, with their brethren and allies the Cimbri,
having been more formidable enemies to the Romans
by land, than the Samnites, Carthaginians, Spaniards,
Gauls, or Parthians, in the second century applied them¬
selves to navigation, and became nearly as terrible by
sea. They soon made themselves known to the inha¬
bitants of the British isles by their piracies in the north¬
ern channels, and were denominated by them Lochlyn
or Lochlynach; lucd-lyn signifying the people of the
wave, and the d being quiescent in the pronunciation.
They took possession of the Orkney islands, which were
then merely large shoals of sand, uncovered with wood,
and overgrown with rushes; and they landed in the
north of Ireland, and ravaged the country. Before
the middle of the third century they made a second de¬
scent upon the latter, disembarked a considerable body
ot men, and designed the absolute subjection of the
island. Before the conclusion of it, they carried their
naval operations to the south, infested the British chan¬
nel with their little vessels, and made frequent descents
upon the coasts. And in the fourth and fifth centuries,
acting in conjunction with the Piets of Caledonia and
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
the Scots of Ireland, they ravaged all the eastern and Suxont
south-eastern shores of Britain, began the formal con- s ^ ,
quest of the country, and finally settled their victori- creani,
ous soldiery in Lancashire. ■
SAY, or Save, in Commerce, a kind of serge much
used abroad for linings, and by the religious for shirts;
with us it is used for aprons by several sorts of artifi¬
cers, being usually dyed green.
SCAB. See Itch and Medicine.
Scab in Sheep. See Sheep, Diseases of, under
Farrieuy.
SC ABIOSA, Scabious ; a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the tetrandria class ; and in the natural method
ranking under the 48th order, Aggregatce. See Bo¬
tany Index.
SCABRITA, a genus of plants belonging to the
tetrandria class. See Botany Index.
SCiFVOLA, C. Mucius, a young Roman of il¬
lustrious birth, is particularly celebrated in the Roman
history for a brave but unsuccessful attempt upon the
life of Porsena king of Hetruria, about the year before
Christ 504. See the article Rome, N° 71.
SciEvouA, a genus of plants belonging to the pent-
andria class. See Botany Index.
SCAFFOLD, among builders, an assemblage of
planks and boards, sustained by tressels and pieces of
wood fixed in the wall; whereon masons, bricklayers,
&c. stand to work, in building high walls, and plaster¬
ers in plastering ceilings, &c.
Scaffold, also denotes a timber-work raised in the
manner of an amphitheatre, for the more commodious
viewing any show or ceremony: it is also used for a
stage raised in some public place for the execution of
criminals.
SCALA-nova, anciently Neapolis, called by the
Turks Koushadase, is situated in a bay, on the slope of
a hill, the houses rising one above another, intermixed
with minarets and tall slender cypresses. “ A street,
through which we rode (saysDr Chandlerf), washungf Travels
with goat skins exposed to dry, dyed of a most lively red. l^s*a
At one of the fountains is an ancient coffin used as a ci- inor'
stern. The port was filled with small craft. Before it
is an old fortress on a rock or islet frequented by gulls
and sea-mews. By the water-side is a large and good
khan, at which we passed a night on our return. This
place belonged once to the Ephesians, who exchanged
it with the Samians for a town in Caria. ”
SCALADO, or Scallade, in the art of war, a
furious assault made on the wall or rampart of a city,
or other fortified place, by means of ladders, without
carrying on works in form, to secure the men.
SCALD-cream,sometimes also caWedLClouted-cream;
a curious method of preparing cream for butter, almost
peculiar to Devonshire. Dr Hales, in Philosophical
Transactions volume xlix. p.342, 1755, Parti, gives
some account of the method of preparing this delicate
and luxurious article; other writers also speak of it.
With an elucidation or two, we shall nearly quote Mr
Feltham’s account from the Gentleman’s Magazine,
volume Ixi. part ii. It is there observed, that the pur¬
pose of making scald-cream is far superior butter than
can be procured from the usual raw cream, being pre¬
ferable for flavour and keeping; to which those accus¬
tomed are so partial, as seldom to eat any other. As
leaden cisterns would not answer for scalding cream, the
+ 3 X dairies
S C A [ 530 ] S C A
Scald- dairies mostly adopt brass pans, which hold from three
<;re|‘im to five gallons, for the milk ; and that which is put into
Scall'er, those pans one morning, stands till the next, when,
. - 1 . without disturbing it, it is set over (on a trivet) a steady
brisk wood fire, devoid oF smoke, where it is to remain
from seven to fifteen minutes, according to the size of
the pan, or the quantity in it: the precise time of re¬
moving it from the fire must be particularly attended
to, and is, when the surface begins to wrinkle or to ga¬
ther in a little, showing signs of being near the agita¬
tion of boiling, which it must by no means do; it is
then instantly to be taken oft', and placed in the dairy
until the next morning, when the fine cream is thrown
up, and may be taken for the table, or for butter, into
which it is now soon converted by stirring it with tire
hand. Some know when to remove it from the fire by
sounding the pan with the finger, it being then less so¬
norous ; but this can only be acquired by experience.
Dr Hales observes, that this method of preparing milk
takes off the ill taste which it sometimes acquires from
the cows feeding on turnips, cabbage, &c.
< SCALDS, in the history of literature, a name given
by the ancient inhabitants of the northern countries
to their poets; in whose writings their history is re¬
corded.
SCALE, a mathematical instrument consisting of
several lines drawn on wood, brass, silver, &c. and va¬
riously divided, according to the purposes it is intend¬
ed to serve; whence it acquires various donominations,
as the plain scale, diagonal scale, plotting scale, &c.
Scale, in Music, sometimes denominated a gamut,
a diagram, a series, an order, a diapason. It consists
of the regular gradations of sound, by which a com¬
poser or performer, whether in rising or descending,
may pass from any given tone to another. These gra¬
dations are seven, When this order is repeated, the
first note of the second is consentaneous with the low¬
est note of the first; the second of the former with the
second of the latter ; and so through the whole octave.
The second order, therefore, is justly esteemed only
a repetition of the first. For this reason the scale, a-
mong the moderns, is sometimes limited to an octave;
at other times extended to the compass of any particu¬
lar voice or instrument. It likewise frequently includes
all the practical gradations of musical sound, or the
whole number of octaves employed in composition or
execution, arranged in their natural order.
Scale, in Architecture and Geography, a line divid¬
ed into equal parts, placed at the bottom of a map or
draught, to serve as a common measure to all the parts of
the building, or all the distances and places of the map.
SCALENE, or Scalenous Triangle, scalenum,
in Geometry, a triangle whose sides and angles are un¬
equal. See Geometry.
SCALENUS, in. Anatomy. See there, Table of
the Muscles.
SC ALIGER, Julius C^sar, a learned critic, poet,
physician, and philosopher, was born at the castle of
Ripa, in the territories of Verona, in I484; and is said
to have been descended from the ancient princes of Ve¬
rona, though this is not mentioned in the letters of
naturalization he obtained in France in 1528. He
learned the first rudiments of the Latin tongue in his
awn country,; and in his 12th, year was presented to
t}ie emperor Maximilian, who made him one of his
pages. He served that emperor 17 years, and gave Scaliger,
signal proofs of his valour and conduct in several expe- -y—
ditions. He was present at the battle of Ravenna in
April 1512, in which he had the misfortune to lose his
father Benedict Scaliger, and his brother Titus ; on
which his mother died with grief: when being reduced
to necessitous circumstances, he entered into the orderof
the Franciscans, and applied himself to study at Bologna;
but soon after, changing his mind with respect to his
becoming a monk, he took arms again, and served in
Piedmont; at which time a physician persuaded him
to study physic, which he did at his leisure hours, and
also learned Greek; and at last the gout determined
him, at 40 years of age, to abandon a military life.
He soon after settled at Agen, where he married, and
began to apply himself seriously to his studies. He
learned first the French tongue, which he spoke per¬
fectly in three months: and then made himself master
of the Gascon, Italian, Spanish, German, Hungarian,
and Sclavonian : but the chief object of his studies was
polite literature. Meanwhile, he supported his family
by the practice of physic. He did not publish any of
his works till he was 47 years of age; when he soon
gained a gi*eat name in the republic of letters. He had
a graceful person, and so strong a memory, even in
his old age, that he dictated to his son 200 verses
which he had composed the day before, and retained
without writing them down. He was so charitable,
that his house was as it were an hospital for the poor
and sick ; and he had such an aversion to lying, that he
would have no correspondence with those who were
given to that vice; but, on the other hand, he had
much vanity, and a satirical spirit, which created him
many enemies. He died of a retention of urine in
1558. He wrote in Latin, U A Treatise on the Art
of Poetry. 2. Exercitations against Cardan: which
works are much esteemed. 3. Commentaries on Ari¬
stotle’s History of Animals, and on Theophrastus on
Plants. 4. Some Treatises on Physic.. 5. Letters,
Orations, Poems, and other works, in Latin.
Scaliger, Joseph Justus, one of the most learned
critics and writers of his time. He was the son of the
former, and was born at Agen in France in 154Q.
He studied in the college of Bourdeaux ; after which
his father took him under his own care, and employed
him in transcribing his poems; by which means he ob¬
tained such a taste for poetry, that before he was 17
years old he wrote a tragedy upon the subject of Oedi¬
pus, in which he introduced all the poetical ornaments
of style and sentiment. Flis father dying in 1558, he
went to Paris the year following, with a design to apr
ply himself to the Greek tongue. For this purpose he
for two months attended the lectures of Turnebus; but
finding that in the usual course he should be a long
time in gaining his point, he shut himself up in his closet,
andby constant application for twayearsgained a perfect
knovrledge of that language. After which he applied
to. the Hebrew, which he learned by himself with great
facility. Fie made no less progress in the sciences; and
his writings procured him the reputation of one of the
greatest men of that or:any other age.. He embraced
the reformed religion at 22 years of age. In 1563,
he attached himself to Lewis Casteignier de la Roch
Pozay, whom he attended in several journeys; and in
1593, was invited to accept of the place of honorary
professor
S C A [ oSl ] SC A
alij'er professor of t!ie university of Leyden, which he com¬
il plied with. He died of a dropsy in that city in 1609.
^er* He was a man of great temperance ; was never mar-
ried ; and was so close a student, that he often spent
whole days in his study without eating ; and though
his circumstances were always very narrow, he con-
stantly refused the presents that were offered him. He
published many works ; the principal of which are,
]. Notes on Seneca’s Tragedies, on Varro, AusoniuS,
Pompeius Festus, &c. 2. His Latin Poems. 3 A
Treatise de Emendaiione Temporum. 4-. Eusebius’s
Chronicle, with Notes. 5. Canones Isagogici ; and ma¬
ny other works. The collections entitled Scaligeriana,
were collected frotn his conversations by one of his
friends ; and being ranged into alphabetical order,
were published by Isaac Vossius.
SCALLOP. See Ostrea, Conciiology Index.
In the Highlands of Scotland, the great scallop shell
is made use of for skimming milk. In old times, it had
a more honourable place ; being admitted into the halls
of heroes, and was the cup of their festivity when tire
tribe assembled in the hall of their chieftain.
SCALPEL, in Surgery, a kind of knife used in
anatomical dissections and operations in surgery.
SCALPER, or Scalping-iron, a surgeon’s in¬
strument used for scraping foul carious bones.
SCALPING, in military history, a barbarous cus¬
tom, in practice among the Indian warriors, of taking
off the tops of the scalps of the enemies skulls with
their hair on. They preserve them as trophies of their
victories, and are rewarded by their chiefs according
to the number of scalps they bring in.
SCALPRA dentalia, instruments used by sur¬
geons to take off those black, livid, or yellow crusts
which adhere to the teeth, and not only loosen and
destroy them, but taint the breath.
SCAMMONY, a concreted vegetable juice of a
species of convolvulus, partly of the resin, and partly
of the gum kind. See Convolvulus, Materia Me-
dica Index.
SCANDALUM magnatum, in Laio, is a defama¬
tory speech or writing to the injury of a person of dig¬
nity ; for which a writ that bears the same name is
granted for the recovery of damages.
SCANDERBEG, the surname of George Castriot
king of Albania, a province of Turkey in Europe, de¬
pendent on the Ottoman empire. He was delivered
up with his three elder brothers as hostages, by their
father, to Amurath II. sultan of the Turks, who poi¬
soned his brothers, but spared him on account of his
youth, being likewise pleased with his juvenile wit and
amiable person. In a short time he became one of the
most renowned generals of the age : and revolting from
Amurath, he joined Hunniade Corvin, a most formi¬
dable enemy to the Ottoman power. He defeated
the sultan’s army, took Amurath’s secretary prisoner,
obliged him to sign and seal an order to the governor
of Croia, the capital of Albania, to deliver up the
citadel and city to the bearer of that order, in the name
of the sultan. With this forged order he repaired to
Croia; and thus recovered the throne of his ancestors
and maintained the independency of his country against
the numerous armies of Amurath and his successor Ma¬
homed II who was obliged to make peace with this
hero in 1461. He then went to the assistance of Fer¬
dinand of Arragon, at the request of Pone Pius IT. Seamier-
and b}' his assistance Ferdinand gained a complete vie-
tory over his enemy the count of Anjou. Scanderbeg Seamtina-
died in 1467. via.
SCANDEROON. See Alexandretta. u—v—j
SCANDINAVIA, a general name for the conn',
tries of Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, anciently
under the dominion of one prince. Tire inhabitants
of these countries, in former times, were excessively
addicted to war. From their earliest years they ap¬
plied themselves to the military art, and accustomed
themselves to cold, fatigue, and hunger. Even the
very sports of youth and childhood were dangerous.
They consisted in taking frightful leaps, climbing up
the steepest rocks, fighting naked with offensive wea¬
pons, wrestling with the utmost fury ; so that it was
usual to see them grown up to be robust men, and ter¬
rible in the combat, at the age of 15. At this early
age the young men became their own masters ; which
they did by receiving a sword, a buckler, and a lance.
This ceremony was performed at some public meeting.
One of the principal men of the assembly named tire,
youth in public ; after which he was obliged to pro¬
vide for his own subsistence, and was either now to
live by hunting, or by joining in some incursion against
the enemy. Great care was taken to prevent the
young men from too early connexions with the female
sex; and indeed they could have no hope to gain the
affection of the fair, but in proportion to tire courage
and address they had shown in their military exercises.
Accordingly, in an ancient song, we find Bartholin,
king of Norway, extremely surprised that his mistress
should prove unkind, as he could perform eight differ¬
ent exercises. The children were generally born in
camps ; and being inured from their infancy to behold
nothing but arms, effusion of blood, and slaughter, they
imbibed the cruel disposition of their fathers, and when
they broke forth upon other nations, behaved rather
like furies than like human creatures.
The laws of this people, in some measure, resembled
those of the ancient Lacedaemonians. They knew no vir¬
tue but bravery, and no vice but cowardice. The great¬
est penalties were inflicted on such as fled from battle.
The laws of the ancient Danes declared such persons
infamous, and excluded them from society. Among
the Germans, cowards were sometimes suffocated in
mud; after which they were covered over with hurdles,
to show, says Tacitus, that though the punishment of
crimes should be public, there are certain degrees of
cowardice and infamy which ought to be buried in
oblivion. Frotho king of Denmark enacted, by law,
that whoever solicited an eminent post ought upon all
occasions to attack one enemy, to lace two, to retire
ordy one step back from three, and never to make an
actual retreat till assaulted by four. The rules of jus¬
tice themselves were adapted and warped to these pre¬
judices. War was looked upon as a real act of justice,
and force was thought to be an incontestable title over
the weak, and a visible mark thut God had intended
them to be subject to the strong. They bad no doubt
but that the intentions of the Deity had been to esta¬
blish the same dependence among men that takes place
among inferior creator s ; and, setting nut from this
principle of the natural inequality among men. they
had from thence inferred that the weak had no right
3X2 to
S C A [ 532 ] S C A
to what they could not defend. This maxim was ad¬
opted with such rigour, that the name of divine judg¬
ment was given not only to the judicatory combat, but
to conflicts and battles of all sorts ; victory being, in
their opinion, the only certain mark by which Provi¬
dence enables us to distinguish those whom it has ap¬
pointed to command others.—Lastly, Their religion, by
annexing eternal happiness to the military virtues, gave
the utmost possible degree of vigour to that propensity
which these people had for war, and to their contempt
of death, of which we shall now give some instances.
We are informed that Harold, surnamed Blaatand, or
Blue-toothy a king of Denmark, who lived in the be¬
ginning of the ninth century, had founded on the
coasts of Pomerania a city named Jalin or Jomsburg.
To this place he sent a colony of young Danes-, be¬
stowing the government on a celebrated warrior called
PalnatoJco. In this colony it was forbidden to mention
the word fear, even in the most imminent dangers.
No citizen of Jomsburg was to yield to any number of
enemies however great. The sight of inevitable death
was not to be taken as an excuse for showing the small¬
est apprehension. And this legislator really appears to
have eradicated from the minds of most of the youths
bred up under him, all traces of that sentiment so na¬
tural and so universal, which makes men think on their
destruction with horror. Nothing can show this better
than a single fact in their history, which deserves to
have place here for its singularity. Some of them ha
ving made an irruption into the territories of a pow er¬
ful Norwegian lord, named Haquin, were overcome in
spite of the obstinacy of their resistance; and the most
distinguished among them being made prisoners, were,
according to the custom of those times, condemned to
death. The news of this, far from afflicting them, was
on the contrary received with joy. The first who was
led to punishment was content to say, without changing
countenance, and without expressing the least sign of
fear, “ Why should not the same happen to me as did
to my father ? He died, and so must I. ” A warrior,
named Thorchilly who was to cut off the head of the se¬
cond, having asked him what he felt at the sight of
death, he answered, “ that he remembered too well the
Jaws of Jomsburg to utter any words that denoted fear- ”
The third, in reply to the same question, said, “ he re¬
joiced to die with glory ; and that he preferred such a
death to an infamous life like that of Thorchill’s. ”
The fourth made an answer much longer and more ex¬
traordinary. “ I suffer with a good heart; and the
present hour is to me very agreeable. I only beg of
you (added he, addressing himself to Thorchill) to be
very quick in cutting off my head ; for it is a question
often debated by us at Jomsburg, whether one re¬
tains any sense after being beheaded. I will therefore
grasp this knife in my hand; if, after my head is cut
off, I strike it towards you, it will show I have not lost
all sense ; if I let it drop, it will be a proof of the con¬
trary. Make haste therefore, and decide the dispute.”
Thorchill, adds the historian, cut off his head in a
most expeditious manner; but the knife, as might be
expected, dropt from his hand. The fifth showed the
same tranquillit), and died rallying and jeering his ene¬
mies. The sixth begged of Thorchill, that he might
not be led to punishment like a sheep; “ Strike the
blow in my face (said he), I will sit still without
3
shrinking ; and take notice whether I once wink my Scandin
eyes, or betray one sign of fear in my countenance : v‘a
for we inhabitants of Jomsburg are used to exercise our- N
selves in trials of this sort, so as to meet the stroke of, ^ "
death without once moving. ” He kept his promise ^
before all the spectators, and received the blow without
betraying the least sign of fear, or so much as wanking
with his eyes. The seventh, says the historian, was
a very beautiful young man, in the flower of bis age.
His long hair, as fine as silk, floated in curls and ring¬
lets on his shoulders. Thorchill asked him, what he
thought of death? “ I receive it willingly (said he),
since I have fulfilled the greatest duty of life, and have
seen all those put to death whom I would not survive.
I only beg of you one favour, not to let my hair be
touched by a slave, or stained with my blood. ”
Neither was this intrepidity peculiar to the inhabi¬
tants of Jomsburg ; it was the general character of all
the Scandinavians, of which we shall only give this
further instance. A warrior, having been thrown upon
his back in wrestling with his enemy, and the latter
finding himself without his arms, the vanquished per¬
son promised to wait, without changing his posture,
till his antagonist fetched a sword to kill him; and he
faithfully kept his word.—To die with his arms in his
hand was the ardent wish of every free man; and the
pleasing idea which they had of this kind of death led
them to dread such as proceeded from old age and dis¬
ease. The history of ancient Scandinavia is full of
instances of this way of thinking. The warriors who
found themselves lingering in disease, often availed
themselves of their few remaining moments to shake
off life, by a way that they supposed to be more glo¬
rious. Some of them would be carried into a field of
battle, that they might die in the engagement. Others
slew themselves : many procured this melancholy ser¬
vice to be performed by their friends, who considered
it as a most sacred duty. “ There is, on a mountain of
Iceland, (says the author of an old Iceland romance), a
rock so high, that no animal can fall from the top and
live. Here men betake themselves when they are af¬
flicted and unhappy. From this place all our ancestors,
even without waiting for sickness, have departed into
Eden. It is useless, therefore, to give ourselves up to
groans and complaints, or to put our relations to need¬
less expenses, since we can easily follow the example
of our fathers, who have all gone by the way of this
rock.”—When all these methods failed, and at last
when Christianity had banished such barbarous prac¬
tices, the disconsolate heroes consoled themselves by
putting on complete armour, as soon as they found
their end approaching.
SCANDIX, Shepherd’s Needle, or VenusComb,
a genus of plants, belonging to the pentandria class ;
and in the natural method ranking under the 45th or¬
der, Umbellatce. See Botany Index
SCANNING, in Poetry, the measuring of verse by
feet, in order to see whether or not the quantities be
duly observed. The term is chiefly used in Greek and
Latin verses. Thus an hexameter verse is scanned by
resolving it into six feet; a pentameter, by resolving
it into five feet, &c.
SCANTLING, a measure, size, or standard, by
which the dimensions, &c. of things are to be deter¬
mined, The term is particularly applied to the dimen¬
sions
S C A [ 533 ] S C A
Si !ing sions of any piece of timber, with regard to its breadth
and thickness.
S u!a. SCANTO, or Spavento, a sudden impression of
u ’ horror upon the mind and body. It is extremely
As dreaded by the inhabitants of Sicily; and the wild
Tr is in ideas of the vulgar part of the inhabitants respecting it
m0 are almost incredible, and their dread of a sudden shock
SlL s' is no less surprising. There is scarce a symptom, dis¬
order, or accident, they do not think may befal the
human frame in consequence of the scanto. They are
persuaded that a man who has been frightened onty by
a dog, a viper, a scorpion, or any other creature, which
he has an antipathy to, will soon be seized with the
same pains he would really feel, had he been torn with
their teeth, or wounded with their venomous sting;
and that nothing can remove these nervous imaginary
pangs but a strong dose of dilena, a species of cantha-
rides found in Sicily.
SCAPE-goat, in the Jewish antiquities, the goat
which was set at liberty on the day of solemn expiation.
For the ceremonies on this occasion, see Levit. xvi.
5, 6, &c.
Some say, that a piece of scarlet cloth, in form of
a tongue, was tied on the forehead of the scapegoat.
Hoff. Lex. Univ. in voc. Lingua.
Many have been the disputes among the interpreters
concerning the meaning of the word scapegoat ; or ra¬
ther of azazeU for which scape-goat is put in our ver¬
sion of the Bible.
Spencer is of opinion, that azazel is a proper name,
signifying the devil or evil daemon. See his reasons in
his book De leg. Hebr. ritual. Dissert, viii. Among
other things, he observes, that the ancient Jews used
to substitute the name Samaeliox Azazel; and many of
them have ventured to affirm, that at the feast of expia¬
tion they were obliged to offer a gift to Samael to ob¬
tain his favour. Thus also the goat, sent into the
wilderness to Azazel, was understood to be a gift or
oblation. Some Christians have been of the same opi¬
nion. But Spencer thinks that the genuine reasons
of the ceremony were, 1. That the goat loaded with
the sins of the people, and sent to Azazel, might be
a symbolical representation of the miserable condi¬
tion of sinners. 2. God sent the goat thus loaded to
the evil daemons, to show that they were impure, there¬
by to deter the people from any conversation or fami¬
liarity with them. 3. That the goat sent to Azazel,
sufficiently expiating all evils, the Israelites might the
more willingly abstain from the expiatory sacrifices of
. the Gentiles.
SCAPEMENT, in clock-work, a general term for
, the manner of communicating the impulse of the wheels
to the pendulum. The ordinary scapements consist of
the swing-wheel and pallets only; but modern improve¬
ments have added other levers or detents, chiefly for the
purposes of diminishing friction, or for detaching the
pendulum from the pressure of the wheels during part
of the time of its vibration. See Watch-vootIc.
SCAPULA, in Anatomy, the shoulder, or shoulder-
bone.
Scapula, John, the reputed author of a Greek lexi¬
con, studied at Lausanne. His name is recorded in the
annals of literature, neither on account of his talents nor
learning, nor virtuous industry, but for a gross act of
disingenuity and fraud which he committed against an
eminent literary character of the 16th century. Being Scapula
employed by Henry Stephens as a corrector to his press ^ ^
while he was publishing his Thesaurus linguae Grcecce, "rou,ril_
Scapula extracted those words and explications which ,
he reckoned most useful, comprised them in one volume,
and published them as an original work, with his own
name.
The compilation and printing of the Thesaurus had
cost Stephens immense labour and expense : but it was
so much admired by those learned men to whom he had
shown it, and seemed to be of such essential importance
to the acquisition of the Greek language, that he rea¬
sonably hoped his labour would be crowned with ho¬
nour, and the money he had expended would be repaid
by a rapid and extensive sale. But before his work
came abroad, Scapula’s abridgement appeared; which,
from its size and price, was quickly purchased, while
the Thesaurus itself lay neglected in the author’s hands.
The consequence was, a bankruptcy on the part of Ste¬
phens, while he who had occasioned it was enjoying the
fruits of his treachery. Scapula’s Lexicon was first
printed in 1570, in 4>to. It was afterwards enlarged,
and published in folio. It has gone through several
editions, while the valuable work of Stephens has ne¬
ver been reprinted. Its success is, however, not owing
to its superior merit, but to its price and more commo¬
dious size. Stephens charges the author with omitting a
great many important articles. He accuses him of mis¬
understanding and perverting his meaning ; and of
tracing out absurd and trifling etymologies, which he
himself had been careful to avoid. He composed the
following epigram on Scapula.
Ouidam nrmpvuv me capulo tenns abdidit ensem
JEger eram a Scapulis, sanus et hue redeo.
Doctor Busby, so much celebrated for his knowledge
of the Greek language, and his success in teaching it,
would never permit his scholars at Westminster school
to make use of Scapula.
SCAPULAR, in Anatomy, the name of two pair of
arteries, and as many veins.
Scapular, or Scapulary, a part of the habit of se¬
veral religious orders in the church of Rome, worn
over the gown as a badge of peculiar veneration for the
Blessed Virgin. It consists of two narrow slips or
breadths of cloth covering the back and the breast, and
hanging down to the feet.—The devotees of the scapu¬
lary celebrate its festival on the 10th of July.
SCARAB./EUS, the Beetle, a genus of insects of
the coleoptera order. See Entomology Index.
SCARBOROUGH, a town of the north riding of
Yorkshire, seated on a steep rock, near which are
such craggy cliffs that it is almost inaccessible on every
side. On the top of this rock is a large green plain,
with two wells of fresh water springing out of the rock.
It is greatly frequented on account of its mineral waters
called the Scarborough- Spa; on which account it is
much improved in the number and beauty of the build¬
ings. The spring was under the cliff, part of which fell
down in 1737, and the water was lost; but in clearing
away the ruins in order to rebuild the wharf, it was re¬
covered, to the great joy of the town. The waters of
Scarborough are chalybeate and purging. The two
wells are both impregnated with the same principles, in
different proportions; though the purging well is the
most
S C A [ 534 ] S C A
Scarbo- most celebrated, and the water of this is usually called
lougn. t]ie grrtrf)oro;iah writer. When these waters are poured
ocardona. o i
, 1 ou*' one ^ass *nt0 another, they throw up a number
of air bubbles ; and if they are shaken for some time in
a phial close stopped, and the phial be suddenly opened
before the commotion ceases, they displode an elastic
vapour, with an audible noise, which shows that they
abound in fixed air. At the fountain they have a brisk,
pungent chalybeate taste ; but the purging water tastes
bitterish, which is not usually the case with the chaly¬
beate one. They lose their chalybeate virtues by ex¬
posure and by keeping ; but the purging water the
soonest. They both putrefy by keeping ; but in time
recover their sweetness. Four or five half pints of the
purging water drank within an hour, give two or three
easy motions, and raise the spirits. The like quantity
of the chalybeate purges less, but exhilarates more, and
passes off chiefly by urine. These waters have been
found beneficial in hectic fevers, weaknesses of the sto¬
mach, and indigestion; in relaxations of the system; in
nervous, hysteric, and hypochondriacal disorders ; in
the green sickness, scurvy, rheumatism, and asthmatic
complaints; in gleets, the fluor albus, and other preter¬
natural evacuations; and in habitual costiveness. Here
•are assemblies and balls as at Tunbridge. It is a place
of some trade, has a very good harbour, and sends two
members to parliament. Population in 1811, 7067.
E. Long. 54. 18. N. Lat. 0. 3.
SCAIIDONA, a sea-port town of Dalmatia, seated
on the eastern banks of the river Cherca, with a bishop’s
see. It has been taken and retaken several times by the
Turks and Venetians ; and these last ruined the forti¬
fications and its principal buildings in 1537 ; but they
have been since put in a state of defence.
Travels “ No vestiges (says Fortis) now remain visible of that
into Dal- ancient city, where the states of Liburnia held their as-
matia. sembly in the times of the Homans. I however tran¬
scribed these two beautiful inscriptions, which were dis¬
covered some years ago, and are preserved in the house
of the reverend canon Mercati. It is to be hoped,
that, as the population of Scardona continues increa¬
sing, new lands will be broken up, and consequently
more frequent discoveries made of the precious monu¬
ments of antiquity. And it is to be wished, that the
few men of letters, who have a share in the regulation
of this reviving city, may bestow some particular atten¬
tion on that article, so that the honourable memorials
of their ancient and illustrious country, which once held
so eminent a rank among the Liburnian cities, may not
be lost, nor carried away. It is almost a shame, that
only six legible inscriptions actually exist at Scardona;
and that all the others, since many more certainly must
have been dug up there, are either miserably broken, or
lost, or transported to Italy, where they lose the great¬
est part of their merit. Homan coins are very frequent¬
ly found about Scardona, and several valuable ones were
shown to me by that hospitable prelate Monsignor Tre-
visani, bishop and father of the rising settlement. One
of the principal gentlemen of the place was so kind as to
give me several sepulchral lamps, which are marked by
the name of Fortin, and by the elegant form of the let¬
ters appear to be of i he best times. The repeated de¬
vastations to which Scardona has been exposed, have
left it no traces of grandeur. It is now, however, be¬
ginning to rise again, and many merchants of Servia
and Bosnia have settled there, on account of the con- Scard
venieht situation for trade with the upper provinces of II
Turkey. But the city has no fortifications, notwith- ®carr
standing the assertion of P. Farlati to the contrary. ” ’—v J
E. Long. 17. 25. N. Lat. 43. 55.
SCAHIFICATION, in Surgery, the operation of
making several incisions in the skin by means of lances
or other instruments, particularly the cupping instru¬
ment. See Surgery.
SCAHLET, a beautiful bright red colour. See
Dyeing Index.
In painting in water-colours, minium mixed with a
little vermilion produces a good scarlet: but if a flower
in a print is to be painted a scarlet colour, the lights
as well as the shades should be covered with minium,
and the shaded parts finished with carmine, which will
produce an admirable scarlet.
ScARLET-Fever. See Medicine Index.
SCARP, in Fortification, is the interior talus or
slope of the ditch next the place, at the foot of the
rampart.
Scarp, in Heraldry, the scarf which military com¬
manders wear for ornament. It is borne somewhat like
a battoon sinister, but is broader than it, and is conti¬
nued out to the edges of the field, whereas the battoon
is cut off' at each end.
SC ARPANTO, an island of the Archipelago, and
one of the Sporades, lying to the south-west of the isle
of Rhodes, and to the north-east of that of Candia. It
is about 22 miles in length and 8 in breadth; and there
are several high mountains. It abounds in cattle and
game; and there are mines of iron, quarries of marble,
with several good harbours. The Turks are masters of
it, but the inhabitants are Greeks.
SCARPE, a river of the Netherlands, which has its
source near Aubigny in Artois, where it washes Arras
and Douay ; after which it runs on the confines of
Flanders and Hainault, passing by St Amand, and a
little after falls into the Scheldt.
SCARRON, Paul, a famous burlesque ivriter, was
the son of a counsellor in parliament, and was born at
Paris about the end of the year 1610, or in the begin¬
ning of the succeeding year. His father marrying a
second time, he was compelled to assume the ecclesias¬
tical profession. At the age of 24 he visited Italy, where
he freely indulged in licentious pleasures. After his
return to Paris he persisted in a life of dissipation till a
long and painful disease convinced him that his consti¬
tution was almost worn out. At length when engaged
in a party of pleasure at the age of 27, he lost the use
of those legs which danced so gracefully, and of those
hands which could paint and play on the lute with so
much elegance. In the year 1638 he was attending the
carnival at Mons, of which he was a canon. Having
dressed himself one day as a savage, his singular appear¬
ance excited the curiosity of the children of the town.
They followed him in multitudes, and he was obliged
to take shelter in a marsh. This wet and cold situation
produced a numbness which totally deprived him of the
use of his limbs; but notwithstanding this misfortune he
continued gay and cheerful. He took up his residence
at Paris, and by his pleasant humour soon attracted to
his house all the men of wit about the city. The loss
of his health was followed by the loss of his fortune.
On the death of his father he entered into a process
S C A
•rou. with his mother-in-law. He pleaded the cause in a lu-
r—* dicrous manner, though his whole fortune depended on
the decision. He accordingly lost the cause. Made¬
moiselle de Hautefort, compassionating his mifortunes,
procured for him an audience of the queen. The
poet requested to have the title of Valetudinarian to
her majesty. The queen smiled, and Scarron con
sidered the smile as the commission to his new office.
He therefore assumed the title of Scarron, by the grace
of God, unworthy valetudinarian to the queen.
Cardinal Mazarinegavehim a pension of 500 crowns;
but that minister having received disdainfully the dedi¬
cation of his Typhon, the poet immediately wrote a Ma-
zarinade, and the pension was withdrawn. He then at¬
tached himself to the prince of Conde, and celebrated
his victories. He at length formed the extraordinary
resolution of marrying, and was accordingly, in 1651,
married to Mademoiselle d’Aubigne (afterwards the
famous Madame de Maintenon), who was then only
16 years of age. “ At that time (says Voltaire) it was
considered as a great acquisition for her to gain for a
husband a man who was disfigured by nature, impotent,
and very little enriched by fortune. ” When Scarron
was questioned about the contract of marriage, he said
he acknowledged to the bride two large invincible eyes,
a very beautiful shape, two fine hands, and a large por¬
tion of wit. The notary demanded what dowry he
would give her ? Immediately replied Scarron, “ The
names of the wives of kings die with them, but the
name of Scarron’s wife shall live for ever. ” She re¬
strained by her modesty his indecent buffooneries, and
the good company which had formerly resorted to his
house were not less frequent in their visits. Scarron
now became a new man. He became more decent in
his manners and conversation : and his gaiety, when
tempered with moderation, was still more agreeable.
But in the mean time, he lived with so little economy,
that his income was soon reduced to a small annuity
and his marquisate of Quinet. By the marquisate of
Quinet, he meant the revenue he derived from his pub¬
lications, which were printed by ore Quinet. He was
accustomed to talk to his superiors with great freedom
in his jocular style. In the dedication to his Don Ja-
phet d'Armenia, he thus addresses the king. “ I shall
endeavour to persuade your majesty, that you would
do yourself no injury were you to do me a small fa¬
vour ; for in that case I should become more gay : if
I should become more gay, I should wudte sprightly
comedies: and if I should write sprightly comedies,
your majesty would be amused, and thus your money
would not be lost. All this appears so evident, that
I should certainly be convinced of it if I were as great
a king as I am now a poor unfortunate man. ”
Though Scarron wrote comedies, he had neither time
nor patience to study the rules and models of dramatic
poetry. Aristotle and Horace, Plautus and Terence,
would have frightened him; and perhaps he did not
know that there was ever such a person as Aristopha¬
nes. He saw an open path before him, and he follow¬
ed it. It was the fashion of the times to pillage the
Spanish writers. Scarron was acquainted with that
language, and he found it easier to use the materials
which were already prepared, than to rack his brain in
inventing a subject; a restraint to which a genius like
his could not easily submit. As he borrowed liberally
S C A
from the Spanish writers, a dramatic piece did not cost Scarron.
him much labour. His labour consisted not in making
his comic characters talk humorously, but in keeping
up serious characters; for the serious was a foreign
language to him. The great success of his Jodelet
Maiire was a vast allurement to him. The comedians
who acted it eagerly requested more of his productions.
They were written without much toil, and they procur¬
ed him large sums. They served to amuse him. If it
be necessary to give more reasons for Scarron’s readi¬
ness to engage in these works, abundance mav be had.
He dedicated his books to his sister’s greyhound bitch;
and when she failed him, he dedicated them to a cer¬
tain Monseigneur, whom he praised higher, but did
not much esteem. When the office of historiographer
became vacant, he solicited for it without success.
At length Fouquet gave him a pension of 1600 livres.
Christina queen of Sweden having come to Paris, was
anxious to see Scarron. “ I permit you (said she to
Scarron) to fall in love with me. The queen of France
has made you her valetudinarian, and I create you my
Roland. ” Scarron did not long enjoy that title ; he
was seized with so violent a hiccough, that every per¬
son thought he would have expired. “ If I recover
(he said), I will make a fine satire on the hiccough. rf
His gaiety did not forsake him to the last. Within a
few minutes of his death, when his domestics were
shedding tears about him, “ My good friends (says
he), I shall never make you weep so much for me as •
I have made you laugh. ” Just before expiring, he
said, “ I could never believe before that it is so easy
to laugh at death. ” He died on the 14th of October
1660, in the 51st year of his age.
His works have been collected and published by Bru-
zen de la Martiniere, in 10 vols 12mo, 1737. There
are, 1. The Eneid travestied, in 8 books. It was af¬
terwards continued by Moreau de Brasey. 2. Typhon,
or the Gigantomachia- 3. Many comedies; as Jode¬
let, or the Master Valet; Jodelet cuffed; Don Japhet
d’Armenie; The Ridiculous Heir; Every Man his
own Guardian ; The Foolish Marquis; The Scholar
of Salamanca; The False Appearance; The Prince
Corsaire,atragi-comedy. Besides these, he wrote other
pieces in verse. 4. His Comic Romance in prose, which
is the only one of his works that deserves attention, ft
is written with much purity and gaiety, and has contri¬
buted not a little to the improvement of the French lan¬
guage. Scarron had great pleasure in. reading his works
to his friends as he composed them: lie called it trying
his works. Segrais and another of his friends coming
to him one day, “ Take a chair (says Scarron to them)
and sit down, that I may examine my Comic Romance.7 '
When he observed the company laugh, “ Very well
(said he), my book will be well received since it makes
persons of such delicate taste laugh. ” Nor was he de¬
ceived. His Romance had a prodigious run. It was
the only one of his works that Boileau could submit to
read. 5. Spanish Novels translated into French. 6. A
volume of Letters. 7. Poems; consisting.of Songs,
Epistles, Stanzas, Odes, and Epigrams. The whole col¬
lection abounds with sprightliness and gaiety. Scarron >
can raise a laugh in the most serious subjects; but his
sallies are rather those of a buffoon than the effusions of
ingenuity and taste. He is continually falling into the
mean and the obscene. If we should make any excep- -
tion»
[ 535 ]
Scarron
S C E [ 536 ] S C E
tion in favour of some of his comedies, of some passages
„ . in his Eneid travestied, and his Comic Romance, vve
' ' , must acknowledge that all the rest of his works are
only fit to be read by footmen and buffoons. It has
been said that he was the most eminent man in his age
for burlesque. This might make him an agreeable
companion to those who choose to laugh away their
time ; but as he has left nothing that can instruct pos¬
terity, he has but little title to posthumous fame.
SCENE, in its primary sense, denoted a theatre, or
the place where dramatic pieces and other public show's
were exhibited; for it does not appear that the ancient
poets were at all acquainted with the modern w'ay of
changing the scenes in the different parts of the play,
in order to raise the idea of the persons represented
by the actors being in different places.
The original scene for acting of plays was as simple
as the representations themselves: it consisted only of
a plain plot of ground proper for the occasion, wdiich
was in some degree shaded by the neighbouring trees,
whose branches were made to meet together, and their
vacancies supplied with boards, sticks, and the like;
and to complete the shelter, these were sometimes co¬
vered with skins, and sometimes with only the branches
of other trees newly cut down, and full of leaves.
Afterwards more artificial scenes, or scenical repre¬
sentations, were introduced, and paintings used instead
of the objects themselves. Scenes were then of three
sorts; tragic, comic, and satiric. The tragic scene
represented stately magnificent edifices, with decora¬
tions of pillars, statues, and other things suitable to the
palaces of kings : the comic exhibited private houses
with balconies and windows, in imitation of common
buildings: and the satiric was the representation of
groves, mountains, dens, and other rural appearances;
and these decorations either turned on pivots, or slid
along grooves as those in our theatres.
To keep close to nature and probability, the scene
should never be shifted from place to place in the course
of the play: the ancients were pretty severe in this re¬
spect, particularly Terence, in some of whose plays the
scene never shifts at all, but the whole is transacted at
the door of some old man’s house, whither with inimi¬
table art he occasionally brings the actors. The French
are pretty strict with respect to this rule; but the Eng¬
lish pay very little regard to it.
Scene is also a part or division of a dramatic poem.
Thus plays are divided into acts, and acts are again
subdivided into scenes; in which sense the scene is
properly the persons present at or concerned in the
action on the stage at such a time: whenever, there¬
fore, a new actor appears, or an old one disappears,
the action is changed into other hands; and therefore
a new scene then commences.
It is one of the laws of the stage, that the scenes be
well connected; that is, that one succeed another in
such a manner as that the stage be never quite empty
till the end of the act. See Poetry.
SCENOGRAPHY, (from the Greek fkwv, scene,
and description), in perspective, a representation
of a body on a perspective plane; or a description
thereof in all its dimensions, such as it appears to the
eye. See Perspective.
SCEPTIC, from Fr-in-Topci', “ I consider,
look about, or deliberate, ” properly signifies considera-
tive and inquisitive, or one who is always weighing rea* Scepti,
sons on one side and the other, without ever deciding -—y-
between them. It is chiefly applied to an ancient sect
of philosophers founded by Pyrrho (see Pyrrho), who,
according to Laertius, had various other denominations.
From their master they were called Pyrrhoninns; from
the distinguishing tenets or characteristic of their phi¬
losophy they derived the name of Aq)oretici, from
“ to doubt;” from their suspension and hesitation they
were called ephectici, from “ to stay or keep
back: ” and lastly, they were called zetetici, or seekers,
from their never getting beyond the search of truth.
That the sceptical philosophy is absurd, can admit of
no dispute in the present age; and that many of the fol¬
lowers of Pyrrho carried it to the most ridiculous height,
is no less true. But we cannot believe that he himself
was so extravagantly sceptical as has sometimes been
asserted, when we reflect on the particulars of his life,
which are still preserved, and the respectful manner in
which we find him mentioned by his contemporaries
and writers of the first name who flourished soon after
him. The truth, as far as at this distance of time it
can be discovered, seems to be, that he learned from
Democritus to deny the real existence of all qualities
in bodies, except those which are essential to primary
atoms, and that he referred every thing else to the
perceptions of the mind produced by external objects,
in other words, to appearance and opinion. All know¬
ledge of course appeared to him to depend on the fal¬
lacious report of the senses, and consequently to be
uncertain ; and in this notion he was confirmed by the
general spirit of the Eleatic school in which he was
educated. He was further confirmed in his scepticism
by the subtilties of the Dialectic school in which he
had been instructed by the son of Stilpo; choosing to
overturn the cavils of sophistry by recurring to the
doctrine of universal uncertainty, and thus breaking
the knot which he could not unloose. For being na¬
turally and habitually inclined to consider immoveable
tranquillity as the great end of all philosophy, he was
easily led to despise the dissensions of the dogmatists,
and to infer from their endless disputes, the uncertain¬
ty of the questions on wduch they debated; contro¬
versy, as it has often happened to others, becoming
also with respect to him the parent of scepticism.
Pyrrho’s doctrines, however new and extraordinary,
were not totally disregarded. He was attended by se¬
veral Scholars, and succeeded by several followers, who
preserved the memory of his notions. The most emi¬
nent of his followers was Timon (see Timon), in whom
the public succession of professors in the Pyrrhonic
school terminated. In the time of Cicero it was almost
extinct, having suffered much from the jealousy of the
dogmatists, and from a natural aversion in the human
mind to acknowledge total ignorance, or to be left in ab¬
solute dai’kness. The disciples of Timon, however, still
continued to profess scepticism, and their notions were
embraced privately at least by many others. The school
itself was afterwards revived by Ptolaemeus a Cyrenian,
and was continued by ALnesidemus a contemporary of
Cicero, who wrote a treatise on the principles of the
Pyrrhonic philosophy, the heads of which are preserved
by Photius. From this time it was continued through
a series of preceptors of little note to Sextus Empi¬
ricus, who also gave a summary of the sceptical doctrine.
1(11 '
S C E [ 537 ] S C H
:eptic. A system of philosophy thus founded on doubt, and
-v~^ clouded with uncertainty, could neither teach tenets
of any importance, nor prescribe a certain rule of
conduct; and accordingly we find that the followers
of scepticism were guided entirely by chance. As
they could form no certain judgment respecting good
and evil, they accidental!}" learned the folly of eagerly
pursuing any apparent good, or of avoiding any ap¬
parent evil ; and their minds of course settled into a
state of undisturbed tranquillity, the grand postula-
tum of their system.
In the schools of the sceptics wTe find ten distinct
topics of argument urged in support of the doctrine of
uncertainty, with this precaution, however, that no¬
thing could be positively asserted either concerning
their number or their force. These arguments chief¬
ly respect objects of sense : they place all knowledge
in appearance : and, as the same things appear very
different to different people, it is impossible to say
which appearance most truly expresses their real na¬
ture. They likewise say, that our judgment is liable
to uncertainty from the circumstance of frequent or
rare occurrence, and that mankind are continually led
into different conceptions concerning the same thing
by means of custom, law, fabulous tales, and establish¬
ed opinions. On all these accounts, they think every
human judgment is liable to uncertainty ; and, con¬
cerning any thing, they can only assert, that it seems
to be, not that it is what it seems.
This doubtful reasoning, if reasoning it may be call¬
ed, the sceptics extended to all the sciences, in which
they discovered nothing true, or which could be abso¬
lutely asserted. In all nature, in physics, morals, and
theology, they found contradictory opinions, and inex¬
plicable or incomprehensible phenomena. In physics,
the appearances they thought might be deceitful; and
respecting the nature of God and the duties of mora¬
lity, men were, in their opinion, equally ignorant and
uncertain. To overturn the sophistical arguments of
these sceptical reasoners, would be no difficult matter,
if their reasoning were worthy of confutation. Indeed,
the great principle is sufficiently, though shortly re¬
futed by Plato, in these words. “ When you say all
things are incomprehensible (says he), do you com¬
prehend or conceive that they are thus incomprehen¬
sible, or do you not ? If you do, then something is
comprehensible ; if you do not, there is no reason we
should believe you, since you do not comprehend
your own assertion. ”
But scepticism has not been confined entirely to the
ancients and to the followers of Pyrrho. Numerous
sceptics have arisen also in modern times, varying in
their principles, manners, and character, as chance,
prejudice, vanity, weakness, or indolence, prompted
them. The great object, however, which they seem
to have in view, is to overturn, or at least to weaken,
the evidence of analogy, experience, and testimony ;
though some of them have even attempted to show, that
the axioms of geometry are uncertain, and its demon¬
strations inconclusive. This last attempt has not in¬
deed been often made; but the chief aim of Mr Hume’s
philosophical writings is to introduce doubts into eve¬
ry branch of physics, metaphysics, history, ethics, and
theology. It is needless to give a specimen of his rea¬
sonings in support of modern scepticism. The most
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
important of them have been noticed elsewhere (see Sceptic
Miracle, Metaphysics, and Philosophy, N° 41.);
and such of our readers as have any relish for specu- i^uson.
lations of that nature can be no strangers to his Es*.
says, or to the able confutations of them by the Doc¬
tors Reid, Campbell, Gregory, and Beattie, who have
likewise exposed the weakness of the sceptical reason¬
ings of Des Cartes, Malbranche, and other philoso¬
phers of great fame in the same school.
SCEPTICISM, the doctrines and opinions of the
sceptics. See the preceding article.
SCEPTRE, a kind of royal staff, of batoon, borne
on solemn occasions by Kings, as a badge of their com¬
mand and authority. Nicod derives the word from
the Greek o-^^xr^ov, which he says originally signified
“ a javelin, ” which the ancient kings usually bore as
a badge of their authority; that instrument being in
very great veneration among the heathens. But «-*s}TTgev
does not properly signify a javelin, but a staff to rest up¬
on, from G-Kiwr\u, innitqr, “ I lean upon.” Accordingly,
in the simplicity of the earlier ages of the world, the
sceptres of kings were no other than long walking-
staves : and Ovid, in speaking of Jupiter, describes him
as resting on his sceptre (Met. i. ver. 178.) The scep¬
tre is an ensign of royalty of greater antiquity than the
crown. The Greek tragic and other poets put scep¬
tres in the hands of the most ancient kings they ever
introduce. Justin observes, that the sceptre, in its
original, was a hasta, or spear. He adds, that, in the
most remote antiquity, men adored the hastce or scep¬
tres as immortal gods; and that it was upon this ac¬
count, that, even in his time, they still furnished the
gods with sceptres.—rNeptune’s sceptre is his trident.
Tarquin the Elder was the first who assumed the scep¬
tre among the Romans. Le Gendre tells us, that, in
the first race of the French kings, the sceptre was a
golden rod, almost always of the same height with the
kin^ who bore it, and crooked at one end like a cro-
zier. Frequently instead of a sceptre, kings are seen
on medals with a palm in their hand. See Regalia.
SCHAiFFERA, a genus of plants belonging to the
dioecia class; and in the natural method ranking with
those that are doubtful. See Botany Index.
SCHAFFHAUSEN, the smallest canton of Swit¬
zerland, bounded on the north and west by Suabia, on
the east by the canton of Zurich and the bishopric of
Constance, and on the south by the same and Thur-
gau. It is about 15 miles long and 9 broad, and its
population amounts to about 30,000. Its revenues are
not extensive, as one proof of which the burgomaster
or chief has not more than 150/. a year. The refor¬
mation was introduced before the middle of the 16th
century. The clergy are paid by the state, the high¬
est incomes not exceeding 100/. and the lowest 40/.
annually. Sumptuary laws are in force, as well as in
most other parts of Switzerland ; and no dancing is
allowed except on very particular occasions. Wine is
their chief article of commerce, which they -exchange
with Suabia for corn, as this canton produces very
little of that necessary article.
Sciiaffhausen, a town of Switzerland, the me¬
tropolis of a canton of the same name. It is seated on
the Rhine, and owes its origin to the interruption of
the navigation of that river by the cataract at Lauffi n.
It was at one period an imperial town, and admitted a
f 3 Y member
S C H [ 538 ] S C H
Sthaff- member of the Helvetic confederacy in 1501 ; and its
hausen territory forms the 12th canton in point of rank. The
Scheele. inhabitants of this town are computed at 6000, but the
, number of citizens or burgesses is about 1600. From
these were elected 85 members, who formed the great
and little council; the senate, or little council of 25,
being entrusted with the executive power ; and the
great council finally deciding all appeals, and regulating
the more important concerns of government. Though
a frontier town, it has no garrison, and the fortifications
are weak ; but it once had a famous wooden bridge
over the Rhine, the work of one Ulric Grubenman, a
carpenter. The sides and top of it were covered ; and
it was a kind of hanging bridge ; the road was nearly
level, and not carried, as usual, over the top of the arch,
but Jet into the middle of it, and there suspended.
This curious bridge was burnt by the French, when
they evacuated Schaffhausen, after being defeated by
the Austrians, April 13. 1799- Schaffhausen is 22
miles north by east of Zurich, and 39 east of Basil.
Long. 3° 4T E. Lat. 47° 39' N.
SCHALBEA, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class. See Botany Index.
SCHEDULE, a scroll of paper or parchment, an¬
nexed to a will, lease, or other deed ; containing an
inventory of goods, or some other matter omitted in
the body of the deed. The word is a diminutive of
the Latin scheda, or Greek cr^=^, a leaf or piece of
paper.
SCHEELE, Charles William, was born on the
19th of December 1742, at Stralsund, where his fa¬
ther kept a shop. When he was very young, he re¬
ceived the usual instructions of a private school; and
was afterwards advanced to an academy. At a very
early age he showed a strong desire to follow the pro¬
fession of an apothecary, and his father suffered him
to gratify his inclinations. With Mr Bauch, an apothe¬
cary at Gottenburg, he passed his apprenticeship, which
was completed in six years. He remained, however,
some time longer at that place, and it was there that he
soexcellentlylaid the firstfoundations of his knowledge.
Among the various books which he read, that treated
of chemical subjects, Kunckell’s Laboratory seems to
have been his favourite. He used to repeat many of
the experiments contained in that work privately in the
night, when the rest of the family had retired to rest.
A friend of Scheele’s had remarked the progress which
he had made in chemistry* and had asked him by what
inducements he had been at first led to study a science
in which he had gained such knowledge? Scheele re¬
turned the following answer : “ The first cause, my
friend, arose from yourself. Nearly at the beginning
of my apprenticeship you advised me to read Neuman’s
Chemistry, from the perusal of which I became eager
to make experiments myself; and I remember very
well how I mixed together, in a conserve-glass, oil of
cloves, and fuming acid of nitre, which immediately
took fire. I see also still before my eyes an unlucky
experiment which 1 made with py rophorus. Circum¬
stances of this kind did but the more inflame my desire
to repeat experiments. ” After Scheele’s departure
from Gottenburg, in the year 1765, he obtained a place Scheie,
with Kalstrom, an apothecary at Mahno. Two yearsv " y —.
afterwards he went from thence to Stockholm, and
managed the shop of Mr Scharenberg. In 1773,
he changed this appointment for another at Upsal,
under Mr Loock. Here he was fortunately situated;
as, from his acquaintance with learned men, and from
having free access to the university laboratory, he had
opportunities of increasing his knowledge. At this
place also he happily commenced the friendship which
subsisted between him and Bergman. During his
residence at this place, his Royal Highness Prince
Henry of Prussia, accompanied by the Duke of Su-
dermania, visited Upsal, and chose this opportunity to
see the academical laboratory. Scheele was accord¬
ingly appointed by the university to exhibit some
chemical experiments to them. This office he under¬
took, and showed some of the most curious processes-
in chemistry. The two princes asked him many ques¬
tions, and expressed their approbation of the answers
which he returned to them. The duke asked him what
countryman he was, and seemed to be much pleaded
when Scheele informed him that he was born at Srral-
sund. At their departure they told the professor, who
was present, that they should esteem it a favour if he
would permit the young man to have free access to the
laboratory, as often as he chose to make experiments.
In the year 1777 Scheele was appointed by the Me¬
dical College to be apothecary at Koping. It was at
that place that he soon showed the world how great a
man he was, and that no place or situation could confine
his abilities. When he was at Stockholm he showed his
acuteness as a chemist, as he discovered there the new
and wonderful acid contained in the fluor spar. It has
been confidently asserted, that Scheele was the first who
discovered the nature of the aerial acid ; and that whilst
he was at Upsal he made many experiments to prove its
properties. This circumstance might probably have fur¬
nished Bergman with the means of treating this subject
more fully. At the same place he began the series of
excellent experiments on that remarkable mineral sub¬
stance, manganese; from which investigation he was led
to make the very valuable and interesting discovery of
oxymuriatic acid. At the same time he examined the
properties of ponderous earth.
At Koping he finished his dissertation on Air and
Fire; a work which the celebrated Bergman most
warmly recommended in the friendly preface which he
wrote for it. The theory which Scheele endeavours to
prove in this treatise is, that fire consists of pure air and
phlogiston. According to more recent opinions (if in¬
flammable air be phlogiston), water is composed of these
two principles. Of these opinions we may say, in the
words of Cicero, “ Opiniones tarn varia sunt tamque in-
ter se dissidentes ut alterum prqfecto fieri potest, ut earum
nulla, alterum certe, non potest ut plus una, vera sit. ” The
author's merit in this work, exclusive of the encomiums
of Bergman, was sufficient to obtain the approbation of
the public ; as the ingenuity displayed in treating so
delicate a subject, and the many new and valuable ob¬
servations (a) which are dispersed through the treatise,
justly
(a) Scheele mentions in this work, in a cursory way, the decomposition of common salt by the calx
3
oflead. Mr
Turner,
S C H
heele. justly entitled the author to that fame which his book
V^procured him. It was spread abroad through every
country, became soon out of print, was reprinted, and
translated into many languages. The English trans¬
lation is enriched with the notes of that accurate and
truly philosophic genius Richard Kirwan, Esq.
Scheele now diligently employed himself in contri¬
buting to the Transactions of the Academy at Stock¬
holm. He first pointed out a new way to prepare the
salt of benzoin. In the same year he, discovered that
arsenic, freed in a particular manner from phlogiston,
partakes of all the properties of an acid, and has its
peculiar affinities to other substances.
In a Dissertation on Flint, Clay, and Alum, he
clearly overturned Beaume’s opinion of the identity of
the siliceous and argillaceous earths. He published an
Analysis of the Human Calculus. He showed also a
mode of preparing mercurius dulcis in the humid way,
and improved the process of making the powder of Al-
garoth. He analyzed the mineral substance called
molybdena or flexible black lead. He discovered a
beautiful green pigment. He showed us how to de¬
compose the air of the atmosphere. He discovered that
some neutral salts are decomposed by lime and iron.
He decomposed plumbago, or the common black lead.
He observed, with pecular ingenuity, an acid in milk,
which decomposes acetated alkali; and in his experi¬
ments on the sugar of milk, he discovered another acid,
different in some respects from the above-mentioned
acids and the common acid of sugar. He accomplished
the decomposition of tungsten, the component parts
of which were before unknown, and found in it a pecu¬
liar nietallic acid united to lime. He published an ex¬
cellent dissertation on the different sorts of ether. He
found out an easy way to preserve vinegar for many
years. His investigation of the colouring matter in
Prussian blue, the means he employed to separate it,
and his discovery that alkali, sal ammoniac, and char¬
coal, mixed together, will produce it, are strong'marks
of his penetration and genius. He found out a pecu¬
liar sweet matter in expressed oils, after they have been
boiled with litharge and water. He showed how the
acid of lemons may be obtained in crystals. He found
the w hite powder in rhubarb, which Model thought to
be selenite, and which amounts to one-seventh of the
weight of the root, to be calcareous earth, united to the
acid of sorrel. .This suggested to him the examination
of the acid of sorrel. He precipitated acetate of lead
with it, and decomposed the precipitate thus obtained
by the vitriolic acid ; and by this process he obtained
the common acid of sugar ; and by slowly dropping a
solution of fixed alkali into a solution of the acid of
sugar, he regenerated the acid of sorrel.—From his
examination of the acids contained in fruits and ber¬
ries, he found not one species of acid alone, viz. the
acid of lemon, but another also, which he denominat-
S C H
ed the malaceous or malic acid, from its being found
in the greatest quantity in apples.
By the decomposition of Bergman’s new metal (side-
rite) he showed the truth of Meyer’s and Klaproth’s
conjecture concerning it. He boiled the calx of siderite
with alkali of tartar, and precipitated nitrate of mer¬
cury by the middle salt which he obtained by this ope¬
ration ; the calx of mercury which was precipitated
was found to be united to the acid of phosphorus; so
that he demonstrates that this calx was phosphorated
iron. He found also, that the native Prussian blue
contained the same acid. He discovered by the same
means, that the perlate acid, as it was called, was not
an acid suigeneris, but the phosphoric united to a small
quantity of the mineral alkali. He suggested an im¬
provement in the process for obtaining magnesia from
Epsom salt; he advises the adding of an equal weight
of common salt to the Epsom salt, so that an equal
weight of Glauber's salt may be obtained; but this will
not succeed unless in the cold of winter. These are the
valuable discoveries of this great philosopher, which are
to be found in the Transactions of the Royal Society at
Stockholm. Most of his essays have been published in
French by Madame Picardet, and Mons. Morveau of
Dijon. Dr Beddoes also has made a very valuable pre¬
sent to his countrymen of an English translation of a
greater part of Scheele’s dissertations, to which he has
added some useful and ingenious notes. The following
discoveries of Scheele are not, we believe, published
wfith the rest. He showed what that substance is, which
has been generally called ‘ the earth of the fluor spar.
It is not produced unless the fluov acid meet with sili¬
ceous earth. It appears from Scheele’s experiments
to be a triple salt, consisting of flint, acid of fluor, and
fixed alkali. Scheele proved also, that the fluor acid
may be produced without any addition of the vitriolic
or any mineral acid: The fluor is melted with fixed
alkali, and the fluorated alkali is decomposed by ace¬
tated lead. If the precipitate be mixed with charcoal
dust, and exposed in a retort to a strong heat, the lead
will be revived, and the acid of fluor, which w’as unit¬
ed to it, will pass into the receiver possessed of all its
usual properties. This seems to be an ingenious and
unanswerable proof of its existence.
Fie observed, that no pyrophorus can be made un¬
less an alkali be present; and the reason why it can be
prepared from alum and coal is, that the common alum
always contains a little alkali, which is added in order
to make it crystallize ; for if this be separated from it,
no pyrophorus can be procured from it. His last dis¬
sertation was his very valuable observations on the acid
of the gall-nut. Ehrhart, one of Scheele’s most intimate
friends, asserts, that he was the discoverer of both of the
acids of sugar and tartar. We are also indebted to him
for that masterpiece of chemical decomposition, the se¬
paration of the acid of phosphorus from bones. T. his ap-
3 y 2 pears
[ 539 ]
Scheele.
Turner, a gentleman wrho happily unites the skill of the manufacturer w ith the know ledge of the p i osop ic
chemist, has also the merit of this discovery, as he observed the same fact, without having been indebte to
Scheele’s hint on the subject. Mr Turner has done more ; he has converted this discovery to some use in tie
arts; he produces mineral alkali for sale, arising from the decomposition ; and from the lead winch is united
to the marine acid he forms the beautiful pigment called the patent yellow.
S C H [ 540 ] SC II
Scheelc. pears from a letter which Scheele wrote to Gahn, who
""V^has generally had the reputation of this great discovery.
This acid which is so curious in the eye of the chemist,
begins to draw the attention of the physician. It was
first used in medicine, united to the mineral alkali, by
the ingenious Dr Pearson. The value of this addition
to the materia medica cannot be better evinced than
from the increase of the demand for it, and the quan¬
tity of it which is now prepared and sold in London.
We may stamp the character of Scheele as a philo¬
sopher from his many and important discoveries. What
concerns him as a man we are informed of by his friends,
who affirm, that his moral character was irreproachable.
From bis outward appearance, you would not at first
sight have judged him to be a man of extraordinary
abilities; but there was a quickness in his eye, which,
to an accurate observer, would point out the penetra¬
tion of his mind. He mixed but little with the crowd
of common acquaintance ; for this he had neither time
nor inclination, as, when his profession permitted him,
he was for the most part employed in his experimental
inquiries. But he had a soul for friendship; nor could
even his philosophical pursuits withhold him from truly
enjoying the society of those whom he could esteem
and love-. Before lie adopted any opinion, or a par¬
ticular theory, he considered it with the greatest at¬
tention ; but when once Ins sentiments were fixed, he
adhered to them, and defended them with resolution.
Not but that he was ingenuous enough to suffer him¬
self to be convinced by weighty objections; as he has
shown that he was open to conviction.
His chemical apparatus was neither neat nor con¬
venient; his laboratory was small and confined ; nor
was he particular in regard to the vessels which he em¬
ployed in his experiments, as often the first phial which
came to hand was placed in his sand heat; so that we
may justly wonder how such discoveries, and such ele¬
gant experiments, could have been made under such
unfavourable circumstances. Fie understood none of
the modern languages except the German and Swedish;
so that he had not the advantage of being benefited by
the early intelligence of discoveries made by foreigners,
but was forced to wait till the intelligence vras convey¬
ed to him in the slow and uncertain channel of trans¬
lation. The important services which Scheele did to
natural philosophy entitled him to universal reputation;
and he obtained it: his name was w'ell known by all
Europe; and he was member of several learned acar
demies and philosophical societies.
It was often wished that he would quit his retirement
at Koping, and move in a larger sphere. It was sug¬
gested to him, that a place might be procured in Eng¬
land, which might afford him a good income and more
leisure ; and, indeed, latterly an offer was made to
him of an annuity of 300/. if he would settle in this
country. But death, alas ! put an end to this project..
For half a year before this melancholy event, his health
had been declining, and he himself was sensible that
he would not recover. On the 19th of May 1786, he
was confined to his bed ; on the 21st he bequeathed
all of which he was possessed to his wife (who was the
widow of hi& predecessor at Koping, and whom he
had lately married); and on the same day he departed
this life. So the world lost, in less than two years,
Bergman and Scheele, of whom Sweden may justly
boast; two philosophers, who were beloved and lament- Steele-
ed by ail their contemporaries, and whose memory po- s I
sterity will never cease most gratefully to revere. . cimus‘
SCHEINER, Christopher, a German mathe¬
matician, astronomer, and Jesuit, eminent for being
the first who discovered spots on the sun, was born at
Schwaben in the territory of Middlcheim in 1575.
Fie first discovered spots on the sun’s disk in 1611, and
made observations on these phenomena at Rome, un¬
til at length reducing them to order, he published them
in one volume folio in 1630. He wrote also some
smaller things relating to mathematics and philosophy;
and died in 1660.
SC HELD, a river which rises on the confines of
Picardy, and runs north-east by Cambray, Valencien¬
nes, Tournay, Oudenarde, &c. and receiving the Lis
at Ghent, runs east by Dendermond, and then north
to Antwerp : below which city it divides into two
branches, one called the Wester-Scheldt which sepa¬
rates Flanders from Zealand, and discharges itself into
the sea near Flushing ; and the other called the Osier-
Scheld, which runs by Bergen-op-zoom, and after¬
wards between the islands Beveland and Schowen, and
a little below falls in the sea.
SCHEME, a draught or representation of any geo¬
metrical or astronomical figure, or problem, by lines
sensible to the eye ; or of the celestial bodies in their
proper places for any moment; otherwise called a dia¬
gram.
SCHEMNITZ, a town of Upper Hungary, with
three castles. It is famous for mines of silver and other
metals, as also for hot baths. Near it is a rock of a
shining blue colour mixed with green, and some spots
of yellow. E. Long. 19. 0. N. Lat. 48. 40.
SCFIERARDIA, a genus of plants belonging to
the tetrandria class. See Botany Index.
SCHETLAND. See Shetland.
SCHEUCHZERIA, a genus of plants belonging
to the hexandria class; and in the natural method
ranking under the fifth order, Tripelatoida*. See Bo¬
tany Index..
SCHIECHS, or Schech, among the Arabs, is a
name applied to their nobles. “ Among the Bedouins, ”
says Niebuhr, “ it belongs to every noble, whether of
the highest or the lowest order.. Their nobles are very
numerous, and compose in a manner the whole nation
the plebeians are invariably actuated and guided by the
schiechs, who superintend and direct in every trans¬
action. The schiechs, and their subjects, are born to-
the life of shepherds and soldiers.. The greater tribes
rear many camels, which they either sell to their neigh¬
bours, or employ them in the carriage of goods, or in,
military expeditions. The petty tribes keep flocks of
sheep. Among those tribes which apply to agriculture,
the schiechs live always in tents, and leave the culture,
of their grounds to their subjects, whose dwellings ara-
wretched huts. Schiechs always ride on horses or dro¬
medaries, inspecting the conduct oftheir subjects, visit¬
ing their friends, or hunting. Traversing the desert,
where the horizon is-wide as-on the ocean, they per¬
ceive travellers at a distance. As travellers are seldom.
to be met with in those wild tracts, they easily discover
such as pass that way, and are tempted topillage them
when they find their own party the strongest..”
SCHINUS, agenusof plants belonging tothedicecia.
class-3;
s
L
S C H [ 541 ] SCI!
anus class; and in the natural method ranking under the
II , 43d order, Ditmos*. See Botany Index.
lastic. SCHIRAS, or Schirauz, a large and famous town
' of Persia, capital of Farsistan, is three miles in length
from east to wrest, but not so much in breadth. It is
seated at the north-west end of a spacious plain sur¬
rounded with very high hills, under one of which the
town stands. The houses are built of bricks dried in
the sun; the roofs are flat and terraced. There are
]5 handsome mosques, tiled with sones of a bluish
green colour, and lined within with black polished
marble. There are many large and beautiful gardens,
surrounded with walls 14 feet high, and four thick.
They contain various kinds of very tine trees, with
fruits almost of every kind, besides various beautiful
flowers. The wines of Schiras are not only the best
in Persia, but, as some think, in the whole world. The
women are much addicted to gallantry, and Schiras is
called an earthly -paradise by some. The ruins of the
famous Persepolis are 30 miles to the north-east of
this place. E. Long. 56. 0. N. Lat. 29. 36.
SCHISM, (from the Greek, a-yj'ru.ot., clift, fissure),
in its general acceptation signifies division or separa¬
tion ; but is chiefly used in speaking of separations
happening from diversity of opinions among people of
the same religion and faith.
Thus wre say the schism of the ten tribes of Judah
and Benjamin, the schism of the Persians from the
Turks and other Mahometans, &c.
Among eccesiastical authors, the great schism of the
West is that which happened in the times of Clement
VII. and Urban VI. wdiich divided the church for 40
or 50 years, and was at length ended by the election
of Martin V. at the council of Constance.
The Romanists number 34 schisms in their church.
—They bestow the name English schism on the reform¬
ation of religion in this kingdom. Those of the church
of England apply the term schism to the separation of
the nonconformists, viz. the presbyterians, independ¬
ents, and anabaptists, for a further reformation.
SCHISTUS, in Mineralogy, a name given to seve¬
ral kinds of stones, as argillaceous, siliceous, bitumin¬
ous, schistus, &c. See Mineralogy Index.
SCHMIEDELIA, a genus of plants belonging to
the octandria class. See Botany Index.
SCHOENOBATES, (from the Greek, a
rope; and potiw, I ival/c), a name which the Greeks
gave to their rope-dancers : by the Romans called
fiunambidi. See Rope-dancek End Funambulus.
The schcenobates were slaves whose masters made
money of them, by entertaining the people with their
feats of activity. Mcrcurialis de arte gymnastica. lib. iii.
gives us five figures of schcenobates engraven after an¬
cient stones.
SCHOENUS, a genus of plants belonging to the
triandria class ; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 3d order, Calamarix. See Botany Index.
SCHOLASTIC, something belonging to the school.
See School.
Scholastic Divinity, is that part or species of divini¬
ty which clears and discusses questions by reason and
arguments; in which sense it stands, in some measure,
opposed to positive divinity, which is founded on the
authority of fathers, councils, &c.. The school-divinity
is now fallen into contempt; and is scarce regarded Scliolastfcr-
anywhere but in some of the universities, where they „ , il
are still by their charters obliged to teach it. .ioni ,crg..
SCHOLIAST, or Commentator, a grammarian
who writes scholia, that is, notes, glosses, <S:c. upon
ancient authors who have written in the learned lan¬
guages. See the next article.
SCHOLIUM, a note, annotation, or remark, occa¬
sionally made on some passage, proposition, or the like.
This term is much used in geometry and other parts of
mathematics, where, after demonstrating a proposition,
it is customary to point out how it might be done some
other way, or to give some advice or precaution in
order to prevent mistakes, or add some particular use
or application thereof.
SCHOMBERG, Frederick-Armand duke of,
a distinguished officer, sprung from an illustrious family
in Germany, and the son of Count Scliomberg by an
English lady, daughter of Lord Dudley, was born in
I608. He was initiated into the military life under Fre-
derick-Henry prince of Orange, and afterwards served
under his son William II. of Orange, who highly es¬
teemed him. He then repaired to the court of France,
where his reputation was so well known, that he obtain¬
ed the government of Gravelines, of Furnes, and the sur¬
rounding countries. He w as reckoned inferior to no ge¬
neral in that kingdom except Mareschal Turenne and
the prince of Conde; men of such exalted eminence that
it was no disgrace to acknowledge their superiority.
The French court thinking it necessary to diminish the
pow-er of Spain, sent Schomberg to the assistance of the
Portuguese, who were engaged in a war with that coun¬
try respecting the succession to their throne Schom-
berg’s military talents gave a turn to the war in favour
of his allies.. The court of Spain 'was obliged to soli¬
cit for peace in 1668, and to acknowledge the house
of Braganza as the just heirs to the throne of Portu¬
gal. For his great services he was created Count
Mentola in Portugal; and a pension of 5000/?. was
bestowed upon him, with the reversion to his heirs.
In 1673 he came over to England to command thej
army; but the English at that time being disgusted
with the French nation, Schomberg was suspected of
coming over with a design to corrupt the army, and
bring it under French discipline. He therefore found
it necessary to return to France, which he soon left,
and went to the Netherlands. In the month of June
1676, he forced the prince of Orange to raise the
siege of Maestricht; and it is said he was then raised
to the rank of Mareschal of France. But the French
Dictionnaire Historique, whose information on a point
of this nature ought to be authentic, says, that he
was invested with this honour the same year in. which
he took the fortress of Bellegarde from the Spaniards
while serving in Portugal!
Upon the revocation of the edict of Nantes, when
the persecution commenced against the Protestants,
Schomberg, who was of that persuasion, requested leave
to retire into his own country. This request was refus--
ed ; but he was permitted to take refuge in Portugal,
where he had reason to expect he would be kindly re¬
ceived on account of past services. But the religious
zeal of the Portuguese, though it did not prevent them ^
from accepting assistance from a heretic when their,
kingdom./
SCH [ 542 ] sen
Sdioinberg.JnrigJonri was threatened with subversion, could not per-
—v 1 mit them to give him shelter when he came for protec¬
tion. The Inquisition interfered, and obliged the king
to send him away. He then went to Holland by the
way of England. Having accepted an invitation from
the elector of Brandenburg, he was invested with the
government of Ducal Prussia, and appointed comman¬
der in chief of the elector’s forces. When the prince
of Orange sailed to England to take possession of the
crown which his father-in-law James II. had abdicated,
Schomberg obtained permission from the elector of
Brandenburg to accompany him. He is supposed to
have been the author of an ingenious stratagem which
the prince employed after his arrival in London to dis¬
cover the sentiments of the reople respecting the revo¬
lution. The stratagem was, to spread an alarm over
the country that the Irish were approaching with fire
and sword. When the prince was established on the
throne of England, Schomberg was appointed com¬
mander in chief of the forces, and master of the ord¬
nance. In April 1689 he was made knight of the Gar¬
ter, and naturalized by act of parliament; and in May
following was created a baron, earl, marquis, and duke
of the kingdom of England, by the name and title of
Baron Teys, earl of Brentford, marquis of Harwich,
and duke of Schomberg. The House of Commons vot¬
ed to him 100,000/. as a reward for his services. Of
this he only received a small part; but after his death a
pension of 5000/. a year was bestowed upon his son.
In August 1689 he was sent to Ireland to reduce that
kingdom to obedience. When he arrived, he found
himself at the head of an army consisting only of 12,000
foot and 2000 horse, while King James commanded an
army three times more numerous. Schomberg thought
it dangerous to engage with so superior a force, and
being disappointed in his promised supplies from Eng¬
land, judged it prudent to remain on the defensive.
He therefore posted himself at Dundalk, about five or
six miles distance from James, who was encamped at
Ardee. For six weeks he remained in this position,
without attempting to give battle, while from the wet¬
ness of the season he lost nearly the half of his army.
Schomberg was much blamed for not coming to action;
but some excellent judges admired his conduct as a
display of great military talents. Had he risked an
engagement, and been defeated, Ireland would have
been lost. At the famous battle of the Boyne, fought
on the 1st July 1690, which decided the fate of James,
Schomberg passed the river at the head of his cavalry,
defeated eight squadrons of the enemy, and broke the
Irish infantry. When the French protestants lost
their commander, Schomberg went to rally and lead
them on to charge. While thus engaged, a party of
King James’s guards, which had been separated from
the rest, passed Schomberg, in attempting to rejoin
their own army. They attacked him with great fury,
and gave him two wounds in the head. As the
wounds were not dangerous, he might soon have re¬
covered from them ; but the French Protestants, per¬
haps thinking their general was killed, immediately
fired upon the guards, and shot him dead on the spot.
He was buried in St Patrick’s cathedral.
Bishop Burnet says, Schomberg was “ a calm man, Schombcr
of great application and conduct, and thought much School/
better than he spoke ; of true judgment, of exact pro-'—y—
bit}', and of a humble and obliging temper. ”
SCHOOL, a public place, wherein the languages,
the arts, or sciences, are taught. Thus we say, a
grammar school, a writing school, a school of natural
philosophy, &c—The word is formed from the Latin
schola, which, according to Du Cange, signifies dis¬
cipline and correction ; he adds, that it was anciently
used, in general, for all places where several persons
met together, either to study, to converse, or do any
other matter. Accordingly, there were schoU pala¬
tine, being the several posts wherein the emperor’s
guards were placed ; schola scutariorum, schola gentili-
um, &c. At length the term passed also to civil ma¬
gistrates ; and accordingly in the code we meet with
schola chartulariorum, schola agentium, &c.; and even
to ecclesiastics, as schola cantorum, schola sacerdotum,
&c.
The Hebrews were always very diligent to teach and
study the laws that they had received from Moses.
The father of the family studied and taught them in
his own family. The Rabbin taught them in the
temple, in the synagogues, and in the academies.
They pretend, that even before the deluge there were
schools for knowledge and piety, of which the patri¬
archs had the direction They place Adam at their
head, then Enoch, and lastly Noah. Melchisedec,
as they say, kept a school in the city of Kajrath-
sepher, otherwise Hebron, in Palestine. Abraham,
who had been instructed by Heber, taught in Chaldaea
and in Egypt. From him the Egyptians learned a-
stronomy and arithmetic. Jacob succeeded Abraham
in the office of teaching. The scripture says, he was
“ a plain man, dwelling in tents ; ” which, according
to the Chaldee paraphrast, is, “ that he was a perfect
man, and a minister of the house of docrine. ’’
All this, indeed, must be very precarious and uncer¬
tain. It cannot be doubted but that Moses, Aaron, and
the elders of Israel, instructed the people in the wilder¬
ness, and that many good Israelites were very industri¬
ous to instruct their families in the fear of God. But
all this does not prove to us that there were any such
schools as we are now inquiring after. Under Joshua
we see a kind of academy of the prophets, where the
children of the prophets, that is, their disciples, lived in
the exercise of a retired and austere life, in study, in
the meditation and reading of the law of God. There
were schools of the prophets at Naioth in Ramah;
1 Sam. xix. 12, 20, &c. See the article Prophet.
These schools, or societies of the prophets, were suc¬
ceeded by the synagogues. Seethe article Synagogue .
Charity-Schools, are those schools which are set
apart by pubiic contributions or private donations for
the instruction of poor children, who could not other¬
wise enjoy the benefits of education. In no country
are these more numerous than in Great Britain, where
charity and benevolence are characteristic of the na¬
tion at large, i he following is a summary view of the
number of charity schools in Great Britain and Ireland,
according to the best information at present, 1795.
At
sen
f jol
Scl
[ 543 ] sen
At London
In other parts of South
Britain
In North Britain by the ac¬
count published in 1786,
In Ireland, for teaching to
read and write only -
In ditto, erected pursuant
to his majesty’s charter,
and encouraged by his
bounty of 1000^. per an¬
num, for instructing,
employing, and wholly
maintaining the children,
exclusive of the Dublin
work-house school -
Total of schools, &c. 4
Schools.
182
1329
135
168
42
1856
Boys.
4442
19506
5187
2406
1935
33476
Girls.
2870
3915
2618
600
10003
Sunday Schools are another species of chai'ity schools
lately instituted, and now pretty common in Great
Britain. The institution is evidently of the first im¬
portance ; and if properly encouraged must have a very
favourable effect on the morals of the people, as it tends
not only to preserve the children of the poor from
spending Sunday in idleness, and of consequence in
dissipation and vice, but enables them to lay in for the
conduct and comfort of their future life a stock of use¬
ful knowledge and virtuous principles, which, if ne¬
glected in early life, will seldom be sought for or ob¬
tained amidst the hurry of business and the cares and
temptations of the world.
The excellent founder of Sunday-schools was Mr
Raikes, a gentleman of Gloucestershire, who, together
with Mr Stock, a clergyman in the same county, and
who, we believe, was equally instrumental in the busi¬
ness with Mr Raikes, showed the example, and convin¬
ced many of the utility of the plan. From Glouces¬
tershire the institution was quickly adopted in every
county and almost every town and parish of the king¬
dom ; and we have only further to remark on a plan so
generally known, so much approved, and so evidently
proper, that we hope men of eminence and weight will
always be found sufficiently numerous and willing to
bestow their time and countenance in promoting it to
the utmost of their power.
SCHOONER, in sea-language, a small vessel with
two masts, whose main-sail and fore-sail are suspended
from gaffs, reaching from the mast towards the stern,
and stretched out below by booms, whose foremost ends
are hooked to an iron, which clasps the mast so as to
turn therein as upon an axis, when the after ends are
swung from one side of the vessel to the other.
SCHORL, a species of mineral belonging to the
siliceous genus. See Mineralogy Index.
SCHOTIA, a genus of plants belonging to the de-
candria class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 33d order, Lomentacece. See Botany Index.
SCHREBERA, a genus of plants belonging to the
pentandria class. See Botany Index.
SCHREVELIUS, Cornelius, a laborious Dutch Schrevelius
critic and writer, who has published some editions of Sciuil!,uan
the ancient classics more distinguished for their ele- ,
gance than accuracy: his Greek Lexicon is esteemed
the best of all his works. He died in 1667.
SCHULTENS, Albert, professor of Hebrew and
of the eastern languages at Leyden, and one of the
most learned men of the 18th century, was born at
Groningen, where he studied till the year 1706, and
from thence continued his studies at Leyden and U-
trecht. Schultens at length applied himself to the study
of Arabic books, both printed and in manuscript; in
which he made great progress. A short time after,
he became minister of Wassenar ; and two years after,
professor of the eastern tongues at Franeker, At
length he was invited to Leyden, where he taught He¬
brew and the eastern languages with extraordinary re¬
putation till his death, which happened in 1750. Fie
wrote many learned works ; the principal of which are,
1. A Commentary on Job, 2vols i-to. 2. A Commen¬
tary on the Proverbs. 3. Vetus et regia via Hebrai-
zandi. 4. Animadversiones philologicce et criticce ad va-
ria loca Vcteris Testamenti. 6. An excellent Hebrew
grammar, &c. Schultens discovered in all his works
sound criticism and much learning. He maintained
against Gousset and Driessen, that in order to have a
perfect knowledge of Hebrew, it is necessary to join
with it, not only the Chaldee and Syriac, but more
particularly the Arabic.
SCHURMAN, Anna Maria, amostextraordinary
German lady. Her natural genius discovered itself at
six years of age, when she cut all sorts of figures in
paper with her scissars without a pattern. At eight,
she learned, in a few days, to draw flowers in a very
agreeable manner. At ten, she took but three hours
to learn embroidery. Afterwards she was taught mu¬
sic, vocal and instrumental; painting, sculpture, and
engraving; in all of which she succeeded admirably.
She excelled in miniature-painting, and in cutting por¬
traits upon glass with a diamond. Hebrew, Greek,
and Latin, were so familiar to her, that the most learn¬
ed men were astonished at it. She spoke French, Ita¬
lian, and English, fluently. Her handwriting, in al¬
most all languages, was so inimitable, that the curi¬
ous preserved specimens of it in their cabinets. But
all this extent of learning and uncommon penetra¬
tion could not protect her from falling into the er¬
rors of Labadie, the famous French enthusiast, who
had been banished France for his extravagant tenets
and conduct. To this man she entirely attached her¬
self, and accompanied him wherever he went; and
even attended him in his last illness at Altena in Hol¬
stein. Her works, consisting of Dc vitce humance ter¬
minal and Dissertatio de ingenii muliehris ad doctrinam ct
meliores liter as aptit udine \ and her Letters to her (earn¬
ed correspondents, were printed at Leyden in 164^; but
enlarged in the edition of Utrecht, 1662, in 12mo, un¬
der the following title : 1 il7. Schurman Opnscula lle-
br<ea, Graca, Latina, Gallica, Prosaica, et Metrica. She
published likewise at Altena, in Latin, A Defence of
her attachment to Labadie, while she was with him in
1673 ; not worth reading. She was born at Cologne
in 1607, but resided chiefly in Holland, and died in
Friesland in 1678.
SCHWARTENBURG,
S C II r 544 1 S C H
Schwarfcn- SCHWARTENBURG, a town and castle of Ger-
,l'r° many, and circle of Upper Saxony, in the landgravate
Schwcitz. of Thuringia, and capital of a county of the same name
S^-vf^i^belonging to a prince of the house of Saxony. It is
seated on the river Schwartz, 20 miles south-east of
Erford, and 35 north of Cullembach. E. Long. 11.
27. N. Lat. 50. 45.
SCHWARTS, Christopher, an eminent history-
painter, born at Ingolstadt in 1550, who was distin¬
guished by the appellation of the German Raphael.
He learned the first principles of the art in his own
country, but finished his studies at Venice ; when he
not only made the works of Titian his models, but
had the advantage of receiving some personal instruc¬
tions from that illustrious master. His performances
were soon in the highest esteem, as his manner of paint¬
ing was very different from what the Germans had «
been accustomed to before that time : he was, there¬
fore, invited by the elector of Bavaria to his court,
and appointed his principal painter. He died in 1594 ;
and his most capital works, as well in fresco as in oil,
are in the palace at Munich, and in the churches and
convents.
SCHWARTZEMBERG, a town of Germany, in
the circle of Franconia, and capital of a principality of
the same name, in the kingdom of Bavaria. The cas¬
tle is seated on the river Lee, 5 miles north-west of
Nuremberg, and 20 east of Wertzburg. E. Long. 10.
27. N. Lat. 49. 43.
SCHWEIDNITZ, a strong town of Silesia, and
capital of a province of the same name, with a castle.
Next to Breslaw, it is the handsomest town of Silesia.
The streets are large, the church fine, and the houses
well built. The fortifications are not very considerable,
and the royal palace is turned into a convent. Great
part of the city was burnt down in 1716, but it was
afterwards elegantly rebuilt and improved. In 1757,
it fell into the hands of the Austrians, but was retaken
by the Prussians the following year. All the magis¬
trates are Roman Catholics; but most of the inhabitants
are Protestants, who have a church without the town,
as also a public school. It is seated on an eminence on
the river Weistritz, 27 miles S. E. of Lignitz, and 22
S. W. of Breslaw. E. Long. 16. 54. N. Lat. 50. 46.
SCHWEINFURT, a very strong, and formerly a
free, and imperial town of Franconia in Germany, with
a magnificent palace, where the senators, who were 12
in number, met. The environs are rich in cattle, corn,
and wine ; the inhabitants are Protestants. They car¬
ry on an extensive trade in woollen and linen cloth,
goose-quills, and feathers. It is seated on the river
Maine, 27 miles north-east of Wurtzburg, and 25 west
of Bamberg. E. Long. 10.25. N. Lat. 50.15. This
town was taken by the French in 1796. It now be¬
longs to Bavaria.
SCHWEITZ, a canton of Switzerland, bounded on
the west by the lake of the Four Cantons; on the south
by the canton of Uri; on the east by that of Claris,
and on the north by those of Zurich and Zug. This
canton, in conjunction with those of Uri and Under-
walden, threw off the Austrian yoke in 1308, and form¬
ed a perpetual alliance in 1315, which was the grand
foundation of the Helvetic confederacy. The name of
Schweitzerland, or Switzerland, which at first compre-
1
bended only those three cantons, was afterwards extend- Sclm-eii
ed to all Helvetia. It derived that name, either from 1—v-
the canton of Schweitz, as being the most distinguished j
by the revolution of 1308, or because the Austrians call¬
ed all the inhabitants of these mountainous parts by the
general denomination of Schweitzers. The government
of Schweitz and Uri was entirely democratical before
the late revolution. They contain about 50,000 inha¬
bitants, and could furnish more than 12,000 militia.
The whole country being mountainous, consists chiefly
of pasture, raises little corn, and has no wine ; but the
soil, though naturally barren, has been improved by
the natives to a great degree of fertility. Luxury is
scarcely known here ; and a purity of morals prevails,
which can scarcely be imagined by the inhabitants of
extensive and opulent cities. The Roman Catholic is
the established religion.
A dreadful disaster happened in this canton by the
fall of part of a mountain called Ruffiberg or Rosenberg,
on the evening of the 2d of September 1806. Three
villages were entirely overwhelmed by it in less than
five minutes, and two others were very much damaged.
The torrent of earth and stones disengaged on this
melancholy occasion wms even more rapid than that
of lava, and its terrible effects were equally irresistible,
carrying rocks, trees, houses, every thing before it, and
burying a space of charming country upwards of three
miles square. So rapid was the motion of this dreadful
mass, that it not only covered the adjoining valley, but
ascended to a considerable height on the side of the
opposite mountain. A portion of it rolled into the lake
of Lauwertz, a fifth part of which it is supposed to have j
filled up. The agitation of the water was so great as to
overturn a number of houses, chapels, mills, &c. along
the southern shore of the lake, particularly the mill of
Lauwertz, where 15 persons were killed, and buried in
the ruins of the buildings, although it was about 60
feet above the level of the lake.
The villages of Goldau and Rothen, consisting of
115 houses, that of Busingen, of 126, and that of Huz-
lock, totally disappeared. Of Lauwertz there remain
only ten buildings much damaged, and 25 were destroy¬
ed. Stein lost two houses and several stables, which
latter were very numerous in all these villages. The
total loss of property of different kinds, as houses, cows,
horses, goats, sheep, &c. sustained on this occasion, has
been estimated at 120,000/. sterling. In the villages
which were overwhelmed, not an individual escaped.
More than 1000 persons were the victims of this disas¬
ter. Thirteen travellers were on their way from Arth
to Schweitz, of whom the foremost nine perished, and
the remaining four escaped, being about 40 paces be¬
hind them.
About 20 years ago General Pfyffer foretold this
catastrophe, from his particular knowledge of the moun¬
tain. There was a sea of water above Spietzflue, which
for several years had undermined the rock, and, in a
cavern of great depth beneath, the waters were ingulf¬
ed. The quantity of water which fell during the pre¬
ceding years, tended to hasten the approach of this me¬
lancholy event, and the rains of some weeks before,
.decided the fate of this mountain.
Schweitz, a town of Switzerland, and capital of the
•canton of the same name, is seated near the Waldstsetter
sea
SCI , [ 545 ] SCI
weitz sea, on the slope of a hill, and at the bottom of two
II high, sharp, and rugged rocks, called the Schweitzer
Si .raP • Hahuem. The church is an edifice both large and mag-
*■ v " nificent. It is 10 miles south-east of Lucerne. E. Long.
8. 30. N. Lat. 46. 55.
SCH WENK FELDI A, a genus of plants belonging to
the pentandria class ; and in the natural method rank¬
ing with those that are doubtful. See Botany Index.
SCHWENKIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
diandria class. See Botany Index.
SCHWINBURG, a town of Denmark, on the south
coast of the island of Funen, opposite to the islands of
Arroa and Langeland. E. Long. 10. 30. N. Lat. 55.10.
SCIACCA, anciently called Therma Selinuntix, in
Sicily, derives its present denomination from the Ara¬
bic word Scheick. It is a very ancient place, being
mentioned in the account of the wars between the
Greeks and Carthaginians, to the latter of whom it
belonged. It is defended by ancient walls and the
castle of Luna. It stands upon a very steep rock,
hanging over the sea, and excavated in every direction
into prodigious magazines, where the corn of the neigh¬
bouring territory is deposited for exportation ; there is
no harbour, but a small bay formed b}^ a wooden pier,
where lighters lie to load the corn which they carry
out about a mile to ships at anchor.
The town is irregularly but substantially built, and
contains 13,000 inhabitants, though Amico’s Lexicon
Topographicum says the last enumeration found only
9484. His accounts do not take in ecclesiastics, and
several denominations of lay persons.
SCIiENA, a genus of fishes belonging to the order
thoracici. See Ichthyology Index.
SCIAGRAPHY, or Sciogeapiiy, the profile or ver¬
tical section of abuilding, used for showing the inside of it.
Sciagraphy, in Astronomy, &c. is a term made use Sciagraphy,
of by some authors for the art of finding the hour of the Sucnce‘
day. or night, by the shadow of the sun, moon, stars, & c. "v
SCIATICA, theHip-GouT. See Medicine
SCIENCE, is Philosophy, denotes any doctrines de¬
duced from self-evident principles.
Sciences may be properly divided as follows : 1. The
knowledge of things, their constitutions, properties, and
operations: this, in a little more enlarged sense of the
word, may be called pvrty.v,, or natural philosophy ; the
end of which is speculative truth. See Philosophy
and Physics.—2. The skill of rightly applying these
powers, ty.fi: The most considerable under this
head is ethics, which is the seeking out those rules and
measures of human actions that lead to happiness, and
the means to practise them (see Moral Philosophy) ;
and the next is mechanics, or the application of the
powers of natural agents to the uses of life (see Me¬
chanics.)—3. The doctrines of signs, a-yiyitaruKi; the
most usual of which being words, it is aptly enough
termed logic. See Logic.
This, says Mr Locke, seems to be the most general,
as well as natural, division of the objects of our under¬
standing. For a man can employ his thoughts about
nothing but either the contemplation ofthings themselves
for the discovery of truth ; or about the things in his
own power, which are his actions, for the attainment of
his own ends ; or the signs the mind makes use of both
in the one and the other, and the right ordering of them
for its clearer information. All which three, viz. things
as they are in themselves knowable, actions as they de¬
pend on us in order to happiness, and the right use of
signs in order to knowledge, being toto ccelo different,
they seem to be the three great provinces of the intellec¬
tual world, wholly separate and distinct one from another
SCIENCE, AMUSEMENTS OR RECREATIONS OF.
1 jrcand^ DESIRE of amusement and relaxation is natural
1 of to man. The mind is soon fatigued with contem-
1 'ations P^at:'n£ ^ie nioSt sublime truths, or the most refined spe¬
culations, while these are addressed only to the under¬
standing. In philosophy, as in polite literature, we
must, to please and secure attention, sometimes address
ourselves to the imagination or to the passions, and thus
combine the agreeable with the useful. For want of
this combination, we find that pure mathematics (com¬
prehending arithmetic, geometry, algebra, fluxions, &c.),
notwithstanding their great and acknowledged utility,
are studied but by fewr; w hile the more attractive
sciences of experimental philosophy and chemistry, are
almost universally admired, and seldom fail to draw
crow ds of hearers or spectators to the lectures of their
professors. The numerous striking phenomena which
these latter sciences present to our senses, the splendid
experiments by which their principles may be illustrat¬
ed, and the continual application which they admit, of
those principles and experiments to the affairs of com¬
mon life, have a powerful influence on the imagination;
fix and keep alive the attention ; excite the passions of
joy, terror or surprise; and gratify that love of the mar¬
vellous which nature has implanted in the human mind.
Even the more abstruse subjects of pure mathematics,
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
especially arithmetic and geometry, may be sometimes
enlivened by amusing examples and contrivances; and
are found the more pleasing, in proportion as they are
susceptible of such elucidation.
These experimental contrivances, and useful appli¬
cations to the purposes of common life, constitute
what we may term the Amusements or Recreations erf
Science. They have very properly been denominated
rational recreations, as they serve to relax and unbend
the mind after long attention to the cares of business,
or to severer studies, in a manner more rational, and
often more satisfactory, than those frivolous pursuits
which too often employ the time, and injure the health
of the rising generation. g
In the preceding volumes of this work we have sup- object and
plied our readers with many examples of scientific re- plan of this
creation. Thus, the articles Legerdemain and Py- article.
rotechny may be regarded as entirely of this nature ;
and in the experimental parts of Chemistry, Elec¬
tricity, Galvanism, and Magnetism ; in the ar¬
ticles Acoustics, Hydrodynamics, Mechanics,
Optics, and its correlative divisions, Catoptrics, Di¬
optrics, Perspective, and Microscope ; in Pneu¬
matics and Aerostation, we have related a variety
of interesting experiments, and described many ingeni-
t 3.2 ous
ma AMUSEMENTS
Introefuc- ous contrivanecs, calculated both for instruction and
tion- amusement. It is the object of the present article to
bring these under one point of view, and to add a few
of the more curious or useful experiments and contriv¬
ances which could not before be conveniently introdu¬
ced. In particular, we propose to explain some of those
scientific deceptions which have excited so much interest
and admiration, and to describe several useful philoso¬
phical instruments, which either are of very late inven¬
tion, or have been overlooked in the preceding parts of
the work. We shall thus be enabled to supply several
deficiencies (otherwise unavoidable), and shall render the
present article a sort of general index or table of re¬
ference to tire various subjects of scientific amusement
which are dispersed through the Encyclopaedia.
For greater convenience, and more easy reference to
preceding articles, we shall arrange the sections under
which the various amusements of science may be redu¬
ced, in alphabetical order, according to the series of the
principal mathematical and philosophical treatises. Thus
the article will be divided into 13 sections, comprehend¬
ing the recreations and contrivances that relate to A-
covstics, Arithmetic, Astronomy, Chemistry,
Electricity, Galvanism, Geography, Geometry,
Hydrodynamics, Magnetism, Mechanics, Optics
and Pneumatics*
It must not be supposed, from the title of this ar¬
ticle, that the subjects which we are here to discuss
are puerile or trifling. They will be such as are best
calculated to excite the attention, quicken the inge¬
nuity, and improve the memory of our young readers,
and they will be similar to. those pursuits which have
employed the lighter hours of some of the most distin¬
guished philosophers- and mathematicians. The names
of Bacon, of Boyle, of Newton, of Desaguliers, of Oza-
nam, of Montucla, and of Hutton, stamp a value on
the recreations of science, and prevent us from con¬
sidering them as frivolous or tariffing.
Writers on The subject of scientific recreations must be regarded
scientific as entirely modern, as, previous to the era of Lord
rupreations. Bacon, philosophers were much more attached to rigid
demonstration and metaphysical reasoning, than to ex¬
perimental illustration. Much may be found on these
subjects in the works of Lord Bacon and Mr Boyle ;
but the earliest collection of scientific amusements which
deserves notice, is the work of Ozanam, entitled Recre¬
ations Mathematiques et Physiques, published in 1692,
in 2 vols 8vo, and afterwards several times republished
with improvements and additions, till it was enlarged to
4 vols 8vo. This work was soon translated into most of
the modern languages, and was given- to the English
reader bv Hr Hooper, under the title of Rational Re-
creations, first published^ we believe, in 1-774, and again
in 1783, in 4 vols 8vo. The original work of Ozanam
has been lately recomposed and greatly improved- by
M. Montucla, andatranslation of this improved-edition
into English was published in 1803, in 4 vols 8vo, by
Dr Charles Hutton. In this- English edition, the work
is much better adapted than in any former copy, to the
English reader, and is enriched by some of the latest
4- improvements .in natural philosophy, and chemistry.
Popular It may not be improper to add, to this notice of
works on wai,ks on the amusements of science, a list of the best
“pe™- popular,treatises on natural and experimental philosophy
fihy, and chemistry, to which our younger leaders may have
OF SCIENCE.
recourse for an explanation of the principles of these Recrt*.
sciences, if they should find some of the articles in this,i0ns.m ^
Encyclopaxlia too abstruse or too mathematical. ^oustlcs'
To young people who have never read any work on ' ^
these sciences, we may recommend Mr Joyce’s Scientific
Dialogues, Dialogues on Chemistry, and Dialogues on the
Microscope, and Mr Trend’s Evening Amusements. Af¬
ter attentively perusing these, they may enlarge their
information by reading Brewster’s edition of Fergusons
Lectures ; Nicholson’s Introduction to Natural Philoso¬
phy ; Gregory’s Economy of Nature; or Dr Young’s
Lectures on Natural Philosophy j and Henry’s Epitome
of Chemistry, 8vo edition.
Sect. I. Recreations and Contrivances relating to
Acoustics.
5
In the article Acoustics, Vol. I. p. 159. we haveRecrea-
related six amusing experiments and contrivances, andtions in /
explained them on the principles of acoustics. ThesecousUc8,
are, the conversing statue, explained on the principle of
the reflexion of sound; the communicative busts, and
the oracular head, explained from the reverberation of
sound; the solar sonata, the automaton harpsichord, and
the ventose symphony, explained partly on the prin¬
ciples of acoustics, and partly on those of mechanics.
We have now to explain a deception connected with
the conveyance of sound, well known to many of our
readers, by the name of the invisible lady or invisible
girl; and to notice some curious figures assumed by
sand or other light bodies on the surface of vibrating
plates. u
Some years ago M. Charles, brother to the well-Invisible
known philosopher of that name, exhibited in London,!^'*
and afterwards in most of the large towns of Great Bri¬
tain and Ireland, the experiment of the invisible girl.
The apparatus by means of which this experiment was
conducted, and the principal circumstances attending
the exhibition, have been described by Mr Nicholson,
in his Philosophical Journal, from which the following
account is principally taken.
In the middle of a large lofty room, in an old house*
where, from the appearance of the wainscot, and other
circumstances, there seemed to be no situation for pla**
cing acoustic tubes or reflectors, was fixed a wooden
railing, about 5 feet high, and as many wide, inclosing
a square space. A perspective view of the apparatus
is given at fig. 1. of Plate CCCCLXX, where A, A,.
A, A, represent the four upright posts. These posts
were united by across rail near the top, BB, and by
two or more similar rails at the bottom. The frame,
thus constructed, stood upon the floor, and from the top
of each of the four upright pillars proceeded a strong
bended.brass wire a, a, a, a, so that they all met together
at the top e, where they were secured by a crown and
prince’s feather, or other ornaments. From these four
wires was suspended a hollow copper ball, about a foot
in diameter, by means of slight ribbons, so as to cut off
all possible communication with the frame. Round this
baii were placed four trumpets, at right angles to each
other, as represented at A, A, A, A, fig. 2- having
their mouths opening externally-
Such was the apparent construction of the apparatus,
and it was pretended that there resided within the ball
an invisible lady, capable of giving answers to any ques¬
tions that were put to her. When a question was pro-
posed.
AMUSEMENTS
1 Ten- pose3, It was uttered in at the mouth of one of the
t* Hi ^'trumpets, aiid an answer immediately proceeded from
‘ ,UC:>‘ all the trumpets, so distinctly loud as to be heard by
( an ear applied to any of them, and yet so distant and
feeble, that it appeared to come from a very diminu¬
tive being. In this consisted the whole of the expe¬
riment, except that the lady could converse in several
languages, sing, describe all that happened in the
room, and display a fund of lively wit and accomplish¬
ment that admirably qualified her to support the cha¬
racter sire had undertaken.
The principles on which this experiment is construct¬
ed are similar to those of the oracular head described un¬
der Acoustics; except that in the present deception,
an artificial echo is produced by means of the trumpets,
and thus the sound is completely reversed, instead of pro-
p,- ceeding in its original direction. Fig. 3. represents a sec¬
tion of the aparatus, and will explain the method by
which the deception is effected. One of the posts A, A,
as well as one-half of the hand-rail connected with it, is
hollowed into a tube, the end of which opens on the inside
of the rail, opposite the centre of the trumpet on that
side, though the hole is very small, and is concealed by
reeds or other mouldings. At the other end the tube
communicates with a long tin pipe^p about half an inch
in diameter, concealed below the floor of the room ff,
and passing up the wall to a large deal case, A-, almost si¬
milar to an inverted funnel, and large enough to contain
, the confederate, and a piano forte, on which tunes may
be occasionally played. A small hole closed with glass
is left through the funnel and side-wall of the room, as
at A, so that the confederate may have an opportunity of
observing and commenting on any circumstances which
may take place in the room. Thus, when any question
is asked at one of the trumpets, the sound is conveyed
through the communicating tubes into the funnel-shaped
case, so as to he heard by the confederate, who then
gives the answer, which in like manner is conveyed
through the tube below the floor to one of the trumpets,
and is heard, either from that, or any of the rest.
On the Figures produced by Light Bodies on Vibrating
Surfaces.
ion About the year 1787, Dr Chladni of Wittemberg
^ ' drew the particular attention of philosophers to the na¬
ture of vibration, by investigating the curves produced
by the moving points of vibrating surfaces. It is found
that if sand, or a similar substance, he strewed on the
surface of an elastic plate, such as glass or the sonorous
metals, and if the plate he made to vibrate, the sand
will arrange itself on particular parts of the surface,
showing that these points are not in motion. These
figures are often extremely curious, and may he varied
according to the pleasure or address of the experimen¬
talist. 8ome of the more remarkable are represented
% 6, at figs. 5, 6, 10, 11.
To produce these figures, nothing is necessary but
to know the method of bringing that part of the sur¬
face which wre wish not to vibrate into a state of rest;
and of putting in motion that which we wish to vi¬
brate : on this depends the whole expertness of pro¬
ducing what are called vibration figures.
Those who have never tried these experiments may
OP SCIENCE. 547
imagine that to produce fig. 5. it would be necessary Evrrea-
to damp, in particular, every point of the part to be kept1’^^ T A‘
at rest, viz. the two concentric circles and the diameter, ",
and to put in motion every part intended to vibrate, ^
This, however, is not the case; for we need damp only
the points a and A, and cause to vibrate one part c, at
the edge of the plate; for the motion is soon communi¬
cated to the other parts which we wish to vibrate, and
the required figure will in this manner be produced.
The damping may be best effected by laying hold of
the place to be damped between the fingers, or by sup¬
porting it with only one finger. This will be more
clearly comprehended by turning to fig. 8, where the Tig.
hand is represented in the position necessary to hold
the plate. In order to produce fig. 6. we must hold the Fig. 6.
plate horizontally, placing the thumb above at a, with
tiie second finger directly below it; and besides this, we
must support the point b on the under side of the plate.
If the bow of a violin be then rubbed against the plate
at c, there will be produced on the glass the figure
which is delineated at fig. 6. When the point to be Fig. 6.
supported or damped lies too near the centre of the
plate, we may rest it on a cork, not too broad at the
end, brought into contact with the glass in such a mam*
ner as to supply the place of the finger. It is conve¬
nient also, when we wish to damp several points at the
circumference of the glass, to place the thumb on the
cork, and to use the rest of the fingers for touching the
part which we wish to keep at rest. For example, if
we wish to produce fig. 7. on an elliptic plate, the larger Fig. 7.
axis of which is to the less as 4- to 3, we must place the
cork under c, the centre of the plate; put the thumb on
this point, and then damp the two points of the edge p
and q, as may be seen at fig. 8, and make the plate to
vibrate by rubbing the violin bow against it at r. There
is still another convenient method of damping several
points at the edge when large plates are employed.
Fig. 4. represents a strong square piece of metal a b, Fig. t.
a line in circumference, which is screwed to the edge of
the table, or made fast in any other manner; and a
notch, about as broad as the edge of the plate, is cut
into one side of it by a file. We then hold the plate
resting against this piece of metal, by two or more fin¬
gers when requisite, as at c and d, by which means the
edge of the plate will be damped in three points d, c, e-;
and in this manner, by putting the plate in vibration at
f, we can produce fig. 13. In cases of necessity, the Fig. is.
edge of a table may he used, instead of the piece of
metal; but it will not answer the purpose so well.
To produce the vibration at any required place, a
common violin bow, rubbed with rosin, is the most pro¬
per instrument to be employed. The hairmiust not he
too slack, because it is sometimes necessary to press
pretty hard on the plate, in order to produce the tone
sooner.
When we wish to produce any particular figure, we
must first form it in idea upon the plate, in order that
we may be-able to determine v, here a line at rest, and
where a vibrating part, will occur. The greatest rest will
always be where two or more lines intersect each other,
and such places must in particular-be damped. For ex¬
ample, in fig. 9. we must damp the part ??, and stroke
with the bow injo. Fig. 13. may be produced with nopifr i$
-less ease, if we hold the plate at r, and stroke with the °
3 Z 2 bow
■548 AMUSEMENTS
tJonTTn^A. ^°W ^ ^ie s^ronSest vibration seems always to be
cousUcs." *n that Part ot' ^ie edge which is bounded by a curve;
t f>or example, in figs. 10. and 11. at w. To produce
Fig. 10, ii. these figures, therefore, we must rub with the bow at
n, and not at r.
We must, however, damp not only those points
where two lines intersect each other, but endeavour to
support at least one which is suited to that figure, and
to no other. For example, when we support a and b,
fig- 5, and rub with the bow at c, fig. 9. also may be
produced, because both figures have these twro points
Fig. 5. at rest. To produce fig. 5. we must support with one
finger the part e, and rub with the bow in c; but fig.
9. cannot be produced in this manner, because it has
not the point e at rest.
One of the greatest difficulties in producing the fi¬
gures, is to determine before-hand the vibrating and
resting points which belong to a certain figure, and to
no other. Hence, when we are not able to damp those
points which distinguish one figure from another, if the
violin bow be rubbed against the plate, several hollow
tones are heard, w ithout the sand forming itself as ex¬
pected. We must therefore acquire by experience a
readiness, in being able to search out among these
tones, that w'hich belongs to the required figure, and
to produce it on the plate by rubbing the bow against
it. When we have acquired sufficient expertness in
this respect, we can determine before-hand, with to¬
lerable certainty, the figures to be produced, and even
the most difficult. It may be easily conceived, that
we must remember what part of the plate, and in what
manner we damped; and we may mark these points
by scratching the plate with a piece of flint.
When the plate has acquired the proper vibration,
endeavour to keep it in that state for some seconds;
which can be done by rubbing the bow against it se¬
veral times. By these means the sand will be more
accurately formed.
Any sort of glass may be employed, provided its
surface be smooth, otherwise the sand will fall into the
hollow parts, or be thrown about irregularly. Com¬
mon glass plates, when cut with a stone, are very
sharp on the edge, and would soon destroy the hair of
a violin bow; for which reason the edge must be
smoothed by a file, or a piece of freestone.
We must endeavour to procure such plates as are
uniformly thick, and of different sizes; such as circu¬
lar ones from four to 12 inches in diameter. Sand
too fine must not be employed. The plate must be
l/^vol e(lually bestrewed with it, and not too thickly, as the
ii^p 389 bnes will then be exceedingly fine, and the figures
8 will acquire a better defined appearance. *
Ventrilo- The subject of ventriloquism, or that peculiar modi-
gnism. fication of voice by which sounds are made to appear
as coming from situations at a distance from the per¬
son who utters them, is a deception connected with the
subject of acoustics. This deception we have already
explained under Physiology, N° 251, 25‘1*.
OF SCIENCE.
Arittimttf-
Sect. II. Recreations and Contrivances relatingcal
to Arithmetic. a , tlon8^
9
The only amusements connected with this subject, Arithmeti-
of which we have already given an account, are thosecal recrea-
contained under the head of Miscellaneous Perform-'*00*'
ances in the 4th section of the article Legerdemain,
the most curious of which is the method of discover¬
ing, by calculation, what person in a select party has
put a ring on his finger, as well as the hand, the Jin-
ger, and the joint on which the ring is placed. We
have also described the magic squares, and magic cir¬
cles, in vol. xvi. p. 354, et scq. A mechanical method
of performing the principal arithmetical operations has
been described under Abacus.
To 'perform a question in Simple Addition merely by
knowing the first line.
The question proposed may consist of five lines of Addition
figures, of which the first and second lines are written performed
by the proposer, the third by the person to whom the
question is proposed, and the fourth and fifth alter-sin°
nately by the proposer and expounder ; but before the
second line is wiitten, the expounder is to discover the
sum in the following manner. To each digit of the first
line he adds 2, wdiich gives as many digits of the sum
as are contained in the first line of the question, and
to these, 2 is to be prefixed on the left hand. To ac¬
commodate the question to this sum, when the proposer
has written the second line, the expounder constructs
the third by deducting each digit of this line from 10,
so that his third line consists of the remainders. In
like manner the expounder constructs the fifth line by
remainders from the digits of the fourth line set down
by the proposer, deducting the first digit on the right
hand from 12, and the rest from 10. The following
example will illustrate the method of procedure.
Suppose it be required to find the sum in a question
of w hich the first line is 35726. Adding 2 to each of
these digits, and prefixing 2 to the sum, we
have for the sum of the whole question 257948. 35726
Let us now suppose that the second line writ- 21354
ten by the proposer is 21354. To construct 89756
the third line, the expounder subtracts 2, 1, 13248
3, 5, 4 each from 10; and the remainders 97864
8, 9, 7, 5, 6, form the third line. Lastly, 
Suppose that the proposer’s next line, form- 257948
ing the fourth, stands thus, 1, 3, 2, 4, 8.
To find the last line, the expounder deducts 1, 3, 2, 4,
each from 10, and 8 from 12, by which he obtains 9,
7, 8, 6, 4; and it is evident that the addition of these
five lines produces the sum originally set down from
the first line only.
N. B. It is essential to the performance of this ques¬
tion, that none of the digits written by the proposer
be ciphers (a.)
Most
(a) Though it is not our intention in the present article, to explain all the experiments and contrivances so
fully as to leave nothing to the ingenuity of the reader, we may remark, with respect to the present question, that
as the obtained sum is derived merely from the first line of figures, all below this must be so contrived as to pro¬
duce by their addition a line in which all the digits are 2’s. Accordingly, it will be found that the addition of the
AMUSEMENTS
An Most of our readers are well acquainted with the
cal trea- question in multiplication respecting the price of a horse
i is. from successiVely doubling a farthing as often as there
^ are nails in the horse’s shoes. (See Montucla’s/2(?crea-
tions by Hutton, vol. i. or Sandford and Merton, vol.i.)
The following question is of a similar nature, but ap¬
pears still more surprising.
t A courtier having -performed some very important ser¬
vice to his sovereign, the latter -wishing to coifer on him
a suitable reward, desired him to ask whatever he thought
proper, promising that it should be granted. The cour¬
tier, who was well acquainted with the science of num¬
bers, requested only that the monarch would give him a
quantity of wheat equal to that which woidd arise from
one grain doubled 63 times successively. What was the
value of the reward ?
The origin of this problem is related in so curious a
manner by Al-Sephadi, an Arabian author, that it de¬
serves to be mentioned. A mathematician named Sessa,
says he, the son of Daher, the subject of an Indian
prince, having invented the game of chess, his sovereign
was highly pleased with the invention, and wishing to
confer on him some reward worthy of his magnificence,
desired him to ask whatever he thought proper, assuring
him that it should be granted. The mathematician,
however, asked only a grain of wheat for the first square
of the chess-board, two for the second, four for the
third, and so on to the last or 64th. The prince at first
was almost incensed at this demand, conceiving that it
was ill suited to his liberality, and ordered his vizir to
comply with Sessa’s request; but the minister was much
astonished when, having caused the quantity of corn
necessary to fulfil the prince’s order to be calculated,
he found that all the grain in the royal granaries, and
that even of all his subjects, and in all Asia, would not
be sufficient. He therefore informed the prince, who
sent for the mathematician, who candidly acknowledged
his inability to comply with his demand, the ingenuity
of which astonished him still more than the game which
he had invented.
To find the amount of this pi-odigious reward, to pay
which even the treasury of a mighty prince was insuffi¬
cient, we shall proceed most easily by way of geometri¬
cal progression, though it might be discovered by com¬
mon multiplication and addition. It will be found by
calculation, that the 64th term of the double progression,
beginning with unity, is 9,223,372,036,854,775,808.
But the sum of all the terms of a double progression,
beginning with unity, may be obtained by doubling the
last term and subtracting from it unity. The number,
therefore, of the grains of wheat equal to Sessa’s de¬
mand, will be 18,446,744,073,709,551,615. Now, if
a standard English pint contain 9216 grains of wheat,
a gallon will contain 72^728; and, as eight gallons
make one bushel, if we divide the above result by 8
times 73,728, we shall have 31,274,997,412,295 for
the number of the bushels of wheat necessary to dis-
OF SCIENCE.
549
charge the promise of the Indian king: and if we sup- Arithmeti-
pose that one acre of land be capable of producing in calJ^rea“
one year, 30 bushels of wheat, to produce this quantity ,
would require 1,042,499,913,743 acres, which make
more than 8 times the surface of the globe; for the dia¬
meter of the earth being supposed equal to 7930 miles,
its whole surface, comprehending land and water, will
amount to very little more than 126,437,889,177 square
acres.
If the price of a bushel of wheat be estimated at
10s. (it is at present, August 1809, 12s. 6d. per bush¬
el), the value of the above quantity will amount to
15,637,498,706,147^ 10s.; a sum which, in all proba¬
bility, far surpasses all the riches on the earth. *
To discover any Number thought of.
• iTutton’s
It (crea¬
tions, vol. i.
12
Of this problem there are several cases, differing To tell a
chiefly in complexity of operation. number
I. Desire the person who has thought of a number,1 oug 10 '
to triple it, and to take the exact half of that triple if it
be even, or the greater half if it be odd. Then desire
him to triple that half, and ask him how many times
that product contains 9; for the number thought of
will contain double the number of nines, and one more
if it be odd.
Thus, if 4 has been the number thought of, its triple
will be 12, which can be divided by 2 without a re¬
mainder. The half of 12 is 6, and if this be multiplied
by 3, we shall have 18, which contains 9 twice, the
number will therefore be 4 equal twice 2, the number
of nines in the last product.
II. Bid the person multiply the number thought of
by itself; then desire him to add unity to the number
thought of, and to multiply that sum also by itself; in
the last place, ask him to tell the difference of those two
products, which will certainly be an odd number, and
the least half of it will be the number required.
Let the number thought of be 10, which multiplied
by itself gives 100; in the next place 10 increased by 1
is 11, which multiplied by itself makes 121, and the
difference of these two squares is 21, the least half of
which being 10, is the number thought of.
This operation might be varied in the second step
by desiring the person to multiply the number by it¬
self, after it has been diminished by unity, and then to
tell the difference of the two squares, the greater half
of which will be the number thought of.
Thus, in the preceding example, the square of the
number thought of is 100, and that of the same num¬
ber, subtracting 1, is 81; the difference of these is 19,
the greater half of which, or 10, is the number thought
of.
III. Desire the person to add to the number thought
of its exact half if it be even, or its greater half it it be
odd, in order to obtain a first sum; then bid him add
to this sum its exact half, or its greater half, according
as
first right-hand column produces 22, and that of all the rest 20, which, with the addition of the 2 carried, sup¬
plies the other 2’s in the line. From this it is evident, that though, for more easy illustration, we have given
a question containing only five lines; seven, nine, or any unequal number may be employed, constructing the
seventh, ninth, &c. on similar principles.
•350
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE.
Anthmctl- It is even or odd, to have a second sum, from which
taltkm°rea" th0 person must subtract the double of the number
> thought of. Then desire him to take the half of the
remainder, or its less half if it be an odd number, and
continue halving the half till he comes to unity. When
this is done, count how many subdivisions have been
made, and for the first division retain two, for the se¬
cond 4, for the third 8, and so of the rest, in double
proportion. It is here necessary to observe, that 1 must
be added for each time that the least half was taken,
because, by taking the least half, one always remains ;
and that 1 only must be retained when no subdivision
could be made ; for thus you will have the number the
halves of the halves of which have been taken; the
•quadruple of that number then will be the number
thought of, in case it was not necessary at the begin¬
ning to take the greater half, which will happen only
when the number thought of is evenly even, or divi¬
sible by 4 ; but if the greater half has been taken at
the first division, 3 must be subtracted from the above
quadruple, or only 2 if the greater half has been taken
at the second division, or 5 if it has been taken at each
of the two divisions, and the remainder then will be
the number thought of.
Thus, if the number thought of has been 4 ; by add¬
ing to it its half, we shall have 6 ; and if to this we add
its half, 3, we shall have 9 ; if 8, the double of the
number thought of, be subtracted, there will remain 1,
which cannot be halved, because we have arrived at
unity. For this reason, we must retain 1 ; and the
quadruple of this, or 4, will be the number thought
of.
IV. Desire the person to take 1 from the number
thought of, and to double the remainder ; then bid him
take 1 from this double, and add to it the number
thought of. Having asked the number arising from tin's
addition, add 3 to it, and the third of the sum will be
the number required.
Let the number thought of be 5 ; if 1 be taken from
it, there will remain 4, the double of which 8, being
diminished by 1, and the remainder 7 being increased
by 5, the number thought of, the result will be 12; if
to this>we add 3, we shall have 15, the third part of
which, 5, will be the number required.
V. Desire the person to add 1 to the triple of the
number thought of, and to multiply the sum by 3 ;
then bid him add to this product the number thought
of, and the result will be a sum, from which if 3 be sub¬
tracted, the remainder will be double of the number re¬
quired. If 3 therefore be taken from the last sum, and
if the cipher on the right be cut off from the remainder,
the other figure will indicate the number sought.
Let the number thought of be 6, the triple of which
is 18, and if unity be added it makes 19; the triple of
this last number is 57, and if 6 be added it makes 63,
from which if 3 be subtracted the remainder will be 60;
now, if the cipher on the right be cut off, the remain¬
ing figure 6 will be the number required.
VI. Among the various methods contrived for dis¬
covering numbers thought of, we have seen none more
ingenious than the following, which was lately commu¬
nicated to us. This is a sort of puzzle, consisting of
six slips of paper or pasteboard, on which are written
.numbers as expressed in the following columns.
Arltlmieti,
cal Recrea¬
tions.
The six slips being thus prepared, a person is to think
of any one of the numbers which they contain, and to
give to the expounder of the question those slips which
contain the number thought of. To discover this num¬
ber, the expounder has nothing to do but to add toge¬
ther the numbers at the top of the columns put into his
hand. Their sum will express the number thought of.
Example. Thus, suppose we think of the number
14. We find that this number is in three of the slips,
viz. those marked B, C, and D, which are therefore
given to the expounder, who on adding together 2, 4,
and 8, obtains 14, the number thought of.
This trick may be varied in the following manner.
Instead of giving to the expounder the slips containing
the number thought of, these may he kept back, and
those in which the number does not occur be given.
In this case the expounder must add together, as be¬
fore, the numbers at the top of the columns, and sub¬
tract their sum from 63 ; the remainder will be the
number thought of.
Example. Taking again the former number 14, the
slips in which this is not contained are those marked
A, E, and F. Adding together 1,16, and 32, the ex¬
pounder has 49, which subtracted from 63, leaves 14,
the number thought of as before.
The slips containing the columns of numbers are
usually
^•3 >•
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE.
SSI
A jnomi-usually marked with letters on the back, and not above
Sij Ltcrea-jjjg columnS} as we have expressed them. This ren-
Jns' ders the deception more complete, as the expounder
v ” of the question, knowing before-hand the number at
the top of each column, has only to examine the let¬
ters at the back of the slips given him, when he per¬
forms the problem without looking at the numbers,
and thus renders the trick more extraordinary.
Towards explaining the principles on which this
puzzle has been constructed, we may remark, 1. That
each column may be divided into sets of figures ; those
of each column consisting of as many figures as are re¬
presented by the number at the head of the column, one
figure in each set in the column marked 1; two in that
marked 2 ; four in four, &c. 2. That after each parcel
there is a blank of as many figures as that parcel consists
of, counting in a regular series from the last number of
the parcel. 3. That the numbers of each parcel are in
arithmetical progression, while those at the head of the
columns are in geometrical progression. 4. That the
first sets of all the columns taken together in regular
series, compose the whole series of numbers in the co¬
lumns from 1 to 63, and are consequently the most im¬
portant, as any number thought of must be found in
only one of these sets. 5. That the sum of all the terms
of the geometrical progression is equal to the last or
highest term of the arithmetical progression 63, and is
also equal to the double of the last term of the geo¬
metrical progression diminished by unity.
Having premised these remarks, we shall not proceed
farther than to hint, that, in constructing this ingenious
puzzle, theauthorappears to have employed the proper¬
ties of geometrical progressions, and their relations to a-
ritkmeticalprogressions,for whielt see the article Series.
To render these columns more portable, they may
each be divided into three or more, and written on
small cards, marked at the back with letters. In this
form the first figure of the first column must be em¬
ployed, like the first figure at the head of the slips;
or the better to disguise the contrivance, the figures
of each column may be placed in a confused order,
j, f:’ and the letters alone employed.
u fjj* Mr William Trend, well known as the author of the
tr uetic. Evening Amusements, has rendered an important ser¬
vice to the rising generation, by the publication of his
Tangible Arithmetic, or the Art of Numbering made
easy, by means of an arithmetical toy. The toy which
forms the basis of this method of numbering, is similar
to what has been called the Chinese board, which is ex¬
plained in the fourth volume of Mr Trend’s Evening
Amusements. This toy is so constructed as to be ca¬
pable of expressing any number as far as 16,666,665,
and is capable of performing a great variety of arith¬
metical operations, merely by moving a few balls. The
author gives a variety of simple instances and amusing
games, by which the first four rules of arithmetic may
be explained and illustrated. The whole contrivance
is very ingenious, and well deserves the attention of
mothers and all teachers of children.
4
mom;. Sect. HI. Recreations and Contrivances relating
ecrea* to Astronomy.
Many scientific recreations may be derived from
astronomy, and some of these have already been noticed
in our treatise on that subject. Among the most use- Ar,e?or.oim^
ful of the astronomical amusements, however, is thecal Kt'cr0i*'
method of discovering the several stars that compose , ,
the constellations ; and this we shall here explain. 1 -
Before we can become acquainted with the stars that iMctLcd cf<
compose the constellations, we must be provided with learning
accurate celestial charts, ora good planisphere, of such rmte^”
a size that stars of the first and second magnitudes can'"
be readily distinguished on it. Having placed before
us one of these charts, as that containing the north poles,
or that part of the planisphere which contains the nor¬
thern hemisphere, first find out the Great Bear, con>
monly called Charles’s tvain (Plate CCCCLXXI. fig. Fig. 142
14.). It may be easily known, as it forms one of the
most remarkable groupes in the heavens, consisting of
several stars of the second magnitude, four of which
are arranged in such a manner as to represent an irre¬
gular square, and the other three a prolongation in the
form of a very obtuse scalene triangle. Besides, by
examining the figure of these seven stars, as exhibited
in the chart, we shall easily distinguish those in the
heavens which correspond to them. When we have
made ourselves acquainted with these seven principal
stars, we examine on the chart the configuration of
the neighbouring stars, which belong to the Great'
Bear ; and thence learn to distinguish the other less
considerable stars which compose that constellation.
After knowing the Great Bear, wre may easily pro¬
ceed to the Lesser Bear /. fbr nothing will be necessary
but to draw, as may be seen in fig. 15. a straight line Fig,. 1^.
through the two anterior stars of the square of the
Great Bear, or the two farthest distant from the tail;
this line will pass very near the polar star, a star of
the second magnitude, and the only one of that size
in a pretty large space. At a little distance from it,
there are two other stars of the second and third mag¬
nitudes, which, with four more of a less size, form a
figure somewhat similar to that of the Great Bear, but
smaller. This is what is called the Lesser Bear ; and
we may learn, in the same manner as before, to dis¬
tinguish the stars which compose it.
Now if a straight line be drawn through those stars
of the Great Bear, nearest to the tail, and through the
polar star, it will conduct us to a very remarkable
group of five stars arranged nearly in this form M
(see fig. 16.). These are the constellation of Cas-Y\g. !&..
siopcia, in which a very brilliant new star appeared in
1572; though soon after it became fainter, and at
length disappeared.
If a line, perpendicular to the above line, be next
drawn through this constellation, ifc vvill conduct, on the
one side, to a very beautiful star called Algenib, which
is in the back of Perseus ; and in the other, to the con¬
stellation of the Swati (fig. 17.), remarkable by a star ct Fig. l?..
the first magnitude. Near Perseus is the brilliant star
of the Goat, called Capella, which is of the first mag,
nitude, and forms part of the constellation of Auriga.
After this, if a straight line be drawn through the
last two stars of the tailof the Great Bear, we shall
come to tire neighbourhood of Areturm, one of the •
most brilliant stars in the heavens, which forms part
of the constellation of Bootes (fig. 18.)
In this manner we may successively employ the know¬
ledge which we have obtained of the stars of one con¬
stellation, to enable us to find out the neighbouring
J ones-
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE.
Astronomi-ones. We shall not enlarge further on this method ;
cal Recrea-for may eagi]y conceived, that we cannot proceed
, ‘ , in this manner ‘through the whole heavens ; but any
person of ingenuity may thus in the course of a few
nights, learn to know a great part of the heavens, or
at any rate the principal stars and constellations.
lfi , In the article Astronomy we have described the
astronieter usua^ instruments for ascertaining the situation, dis-
tances, &c. of the heavenly bodies. We must here
ndd an account of an ingenious instrument for finding
the rising and setting of the stars and planets, and
their position in the heavens. This instrument is call¬
ed an astrometer, and was originally invented by M,
Jurat. An improved astrometer has been lately con¬
trived by Dr David Brewster, and is thus described by
him in Nicholson’s Journal for May 1807, vol. xvi.
“ This astrometer, representedin Plate CCCCLXXI.
fig. 19. consists of four divided circumferences. The in¬
nermost of these is moveable round the centre A, and is
divided into 24 hours, which are again subdivided into
quarters and minutes, when the circle is sufficiently large.
The second circumference is composed of four quadrants
of declination, divided by means of a table of semidiur¬
nal arcs, adapted to the latitude of the place. In order
to divide these quadrants, move the horary circle, so that
12 o’clock noon may be exactly opposite to the index
B: then since the star is in the equator, and its de¬
clination 0, when the semidiurnal arc is VI hours, the
zero of the scales of declination will be opposite VI. VI.;
and as the declination of a star is equal to the colatitude
of the place, when its semidiurnal arc is 0, or when it
just comes to the south point of the horizon, without
rising above it, the degree of declination at the other
extremity of the quadrant, or opposite XII. XII., will
be the same as the colatitude of the place, which in the
present case is 39°, the latitude of the place-being sup¬
posed 51° north. The intermediate degrees of declin¬
ation are then to be laid down from a table of semi¬
diurnal arcs, by placing the degree of declination op¬
posite to the arc to which it corresponds ; thus the 10°
of south declination must stand opposite Vh 13' in the
afternoon, and VIh 47' in the morning, because a de¬
clination of 10° south gives a semidiurnal arc of Vh 13'.
When the scales of declination are thus completed, the
instrument is ready for showing the rising and setting of
the stars. For this purpose move the horary circle till
the index B points to the time of the star's southing ;
thus, opposite to the star’s declination to the scale C, if
the declination is south, or in the scale D if it is north,
will be found the time of its rising above the horizon ;
and the degree of declination on the scales E and F,
according as it is south or north, will point out on the
horary circle the time of the star setting. If the rising
of the star is known from observation, bring its declin¬
ation to the time of its rising on the circle of hours,
and the index B will point out the time at which it
passed the meridian ; and its declination on the oppo¬
site scale will indicate the time when it descends be¬
low the horizon. In the same way, from the time of
the star setting, we may determine the time when it
rises and comes to the meridian-
“ The two exterior circles are added to the astrome¬
ter, for the purpose of finding rhe position of the stars
and planets in the heavens. The outermost of these is
divided into 360 equal parts ; and the other, which is a
> 3
scale of amplitudes, is so formed, that the amplitude of Chmic*
any of the heavenly bodies may be exactly opposite the R«crea-
corresponding degree of declination in the adjacent cir- tl0ns'
cle. The degree of south declination, for instance, in
the latitude of 51°, corresponds with an amplitude of
15° 20', consequently the 15° of amplitude must be
nearly opposite to the tenth degree of declination; so
that by a table of amplitudes the other points of the
scale may be easily determined. The astrometer is also
furnished with a moveable index MN, which carries
at its extremities two vertical sights w n, in a straight
line with the centre A. The instrument being thus
completed, let it be required to find the planet Saturn,
when his declination is 15° north, and the time of his
southing 31‘ 30' in the morning. The times of his ris¬
ing and setting will be found to be 7Ii 15', and 10" 45',
and his amplitude 24° north. Then shift the moveable
index till the side of it which points to the centre is
exactly above 24° of the exterior circle in the north¬
east quadrant, and when the line AB is placed in the
meridian, the two sight holes will be directed to the
point of the horizon where Saturn will be seen at 7lj 15',
the time of his rising. The same being done in the
north-west quadrant, the point of the horizon where
the planet sets will likewise be determined. In the
same way the position of the fixed stars, and the other
planets, may be easily discovered.
“ If it is required to find the name of any particular
star that is observed in the heavens, place the astrometer
due north and south, and when the star is near the ho-
rizon; either at its rising or setting, shift the moveable
index till the two sights point to the star. The sight
of the index will then point out, on the exterior circle,
the star’s amplitude. With this amplitude enter the
third scale from the centre, and find the declination of
the star in the second circle. Shift the moveable horaiy
circle till the time at which the observation is made be
opposite to the star’s declination, and the index B will
point to the time at which it passes the meridian. The
difference between the time of the star’s southing, and
12 o'clock noon, converted into degrees,of the equator,
and added to the right ascension of the sun if the star
comes to the meridian after the sun, but subtracted from
it if the star souths before the sun, w ill give the right a-
scension of the star. With the right ascension and declin¬
ation thus found, enter atable of the right ascensions and
declinations of the principal fixed stars, and you will dis¬
cover the name of the star which corresponds with these
numbers. The meridian altitudes of the heavenly bodies
may always be found by counting the number of degrees
between their declination and the index B. The astro¬
meter may be employed in the solution of various other
problems ; but the application of it to other purposes is
left to the ingenuity of the young astronomer. ”
Sect. IV. Recreations and Contrivances relating
to Chemistry.
17
The experiments which illustrate the principles ofciiemica
Chemistry, afford abundant examples of scientific re- Recrea-
creations. We cannot here enter on this extensive field,tioils’
as we have already illustrated the subject very fully un¬
der the article Chemistry. In the present section,
therefore, ive shall do little more than enumerate some
of the most striking experiments, referring our readers
for
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE.
553
C mical f0r a description and explanation of them, to the above
] rea* article, and to the principal elementary works on mo-
, dern chemistry, especially the Epitome of Chemistry,
by Dr William Henry (8vo edition), to which the fol¬
lowing enumeration will chiefly refer.
Among the more curious and interesting experiments
of chemistry, we may notice the combustion produced
by wrapping nitrate of copper, slightly moistened, in a
sheet of tin foil (Henry, p. 15.); the reflection of heat
and cold from the surface of concave mirrors (Chemis¬
try, N° 170, or Henry, p. 28.); the artificial produc¬
tion of great degrees of cold, so as to freeze mercury
and alcohol (Chemistry, 274, or Henry, p. 36.); the
experiments of Dr Herschel, shewing that the sun emits
rays which heat without illuminating; others which il¬
luminate without heating; and others which neither illu¬
minate nor heat, but produce evident chemical changes
(Chemistry, 172, or Henry, p. 48.); the combustion
cf charcoal, phosphorus, and iron wires, in oxygenous gas,
and more especially the combustion of metals in a com¬
bined stream of oxygen and hydrogen gases (Henry,
p. 60.); the explosion of hydrogenous and oxygenous
gases, andconsequent production of water (Chemistry',
382, and Henry, p. 70.); the decomposition of water
(Chemistry, 384, or Henry, p. 78.); the effect of al¬
kalies and acids in changing the colour of blue vegetable
infusions to green and red (Henry, p. 102.); the com¬
bustion produced by mixing nitric acid with essential
oils, or other combustibles (Chemistry, 510, and
Henry, p. 151.); the combustion produced by throw¬
ing-nze/a/fo particles into oxygenized muriatic acid gas
(Henry, p. 181.); the deflagration of hyperoxygenized
muriate of potash, with phosphorus and other combus¬
tibles (Chemistry, 962, et seq. or Henry, p. 187.);
the production of phosphorated hydrogen gas, by throw¬
ing phosphwet of lime into water, (Henry, p. 197.);
and the decomposition of metallic solutions, so as to
procure the metals in a pure or metallic state.
As these, last experiments are only incidentally no¬
ticed in the article Chemistry, and in Dr Henry’s
Epitome, we shall here describe two of the most curious
^ 8 . instances of what have been called metallic vegetationSi
Q' ^l" The first of these which we shall notice is called Ar¬
bor Dianx, the tree of Diana, or the silver tree, as it is
produced by decomposing asolution of silver, so that the
silver is exhibited in the metallic state, and in an arbo¬
rescent form. There are two methods of producing the
arborDianee, one byIIomberg,and the other byBeaume.
According to Homberg’s method, an amalgam is to
be formed by rubbing a quarter of an ounce of very
pure mercury, and half an ounce of fine silver reduced
to leaves or filings, by triturating them together in a
porphyry mortar, with an iron pestle. This amalgam
is to be dissolved in four ounces of the purest nitric
acid of a moderate strength, and the solution is to be
diluted with about 24 ounces of distilled water. An
ounce of this liquor is to be poured into a glass, and
a small piece of a similar amalgam of mercury and sil¬
ver, of the consistence of butter, is to be introduced.
Soon after there may be seen rising from the ball of
amalgam a multitude of small shining filaments, which
visibly increase in number and size, and throw out
branches, so as to form a kind of shrub.
Beaume’s method is as follows—Six parts of a solu¬
tion of silver in nitric acid, and four of a solution of
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
mercury in the same acid, both in a state of satura- Chemical
tion, are to be mixed together, and a small quantity ll®crea-
of distilled water to be added. This mixture it to be, cms' ,
poured into a conical glass vessel, containing six parts
of an amalgam made of seven parts of mercury and
one of silver. At the end of some hours there will
appear on the surface of the amalgam a metallic pre¬
cipitate in the form of a vegetation.
The other experiment which we have to describe is Tree of
that of producing a leaden tree, which, as it may belcad‘
performed on a large scale, and at a trifling expense,
is preferable to the former. The method of effecting
this decomposition which we have found most effectual,
is the following.
Dissolve in distilled or pure rain water a quantity of
acetate of lead (sugar of lead), not sufficient to saturate
it; viz. in the proportion of four scruples of the salt to
the English pint of water. When the solution has be¬
come clear, pour it into a cylindrical vessel, or a glass
wine decanter of considerable size, and introduce into it
an irregular piece of pure bright zinc, suspended by a
string, or a piece of brass wire. In the course of a few
hours, the zinc will be covered with a dusky grayish
mass, having the appearance of moss, and from this are
gradually shot out plates or leaves of a brilliant metallic
substance. These will extend themselves towards the
bottom of the vessel, and will form trunks, branches, and
leaves, so as to resemble a leaden tree suspended by its
roots from a mossy hill. In this way we have produced
a vegetation that has nearly filled a cylindrical glass-jar
of a foot in height, and four or five inches in diameter.
Sect. V. Recreations and Contrivances relating to
Electricity.
20
The subject of electricity, like that of chemistry, Electrical
affords ample room for scientific recreations. Of these recreations*
we have given a large collection in our treatise on
Electricity, and shall here only enumerate the more
striking experiments.
These are, the phenomena produced by paper when
excited by caoutchouc or Indian rubber (see Electri¬
city, Part I. Chap. 3.); the experiments of the dan-
cing-fgures, dancing-balls, illustrating electrical attrac¬
tion and repulsion ; the electrical orrery, and electrified
cotton, illustrating the action of points ; the electrified
spider; the magic picture, electrical jack, self-moving
wheel, spiral tube, luminous conductor, aurora borealist
electrified can and chain, and the thunder-house.
Sect. VI. Amusements and Contrivances relating to
Galvanism.
21
The subject of galvanism, though so nearly allied to Galvanic
electricity, is capable of supplying still more extraordi-amuse-
nary experiments, many of which are often witnessedments*
with surprise and admiration. Many of these have been
related in our treatise of Galvanism. The most striking
of these are, the muscular contractions produced in dead
animals, especially those of Aldini (Galvanism, N°
35.); the combustion of charcoal (N° 42.); the defla¬
gration of metals (N° 43.); and the decomposition of
water (N° 44.). The experiments on deflagrating the
metals, and on other perfect conductors, succeed best
with a trough of very large plates of zinc and copper;
but experiments on animal bodies, and other imperfect
f 4 A conductors,
554
Geographi¬
cal
Recrea¬
tions.
22
Geographi¬
cal recrea¬
tions.
23
Geographi¬
cal horolo-
giimv
Fig. 20.
AMUSEMENTS
conductors, are most effectual in proportion to the
number of plates employed.
Sect. YII. Recreations uml Contrivances relating
to Geography.
Some of the problems on the globes, and the use of
the annlemmn engraved on Plate CCXXXV. constitute
the principal recreations and contrivances relating to
geography. To these we shall add only an easy me¬
thod of approximating to the third problem on the
terrestrial globe, (see Geography, N° 67.), namely,
having the hour at any place given, to find what hour
it is at other places on the earth.
Fig.20.consists of an outer circle graduated at the edge
into 96 equal parts, representing the 24 hours and their
quarters, and is marked with two sets of hours from I. to
XII. each ; the XII. at the top of the figure represent¬
ing noon, and the XII. at the bottom, midnight. The
hours on the right hand are of course those of the even¬
ing, and those on the left are morning hours. About
the centre of this large circle there is moveable a cir¬
cular plate, having the figure of a globe in the middle,
and having the circumference divided into 360 equal
parts, comprehending so many degrees. The diameter
marked 0, 180, represents the meridian of London. It
has the names of the principal places on the earth mark¬
ed at its edge. Of these London is the principal, and
is engraved in capitals. Now, by means of this contri¬
vance, if the time at any one of these places be given,
we can find very nearly the time at the other places
marked on the inner circle. Thus, suppose it is X.
o’clock in the forenoon at London, to find the hour at
the other places in the inner circle, place the word
London opposite X. on the left hand ; then we shall
find that at Rome it is a quarter before XL; at Berlin
it is about XL; at Stockholm about 20 minutes after
XI; at St PetersburgJi it is noon ; at Bombay it is near¬
ly III- in the afternoon ; at Pekin it is nearly VI. in the
evening; at Botany Bay it is about VIII. in the even¬
ing ; at Neiu Zealand it is X. at night; at Mexico it is
about III. in the morning; at Philadelphia it is V.; and
at the Leeward Islands about VI. in the morning.
The Abbe Gualtier has contrived a game, by which
he show's how geography may be taught to young peo¬
ple by means of a set of toys. This method appears
to be very ingenious, and is much extoiled by those
who are acquainted with it. As we have not been able
to procure the apparatus, we cannot describe the me¬
thod, according to which the game is conducted.
Mr Edgeworth proposes that geography should be
taught to young people by means of a large globe made
of silk, marked with the proper meridians and parallels,
to be occasionally infhrted; and that the places met with
in reading should be laid down according to their pro¬
per longitudes and latitudes as they occur. See Prac¬
tical Education, 8vo. vol. ii. p. 239.
Sect. VIII. Recreations and Contrivances relating
to Geometry.
26
fleometri- From among the numerous problems which have
cal rearea- been contrived by geometricians, we shall select a few
of the most simple and curious.
24
Gualtier’s
game of
geography.
25
Edge-
worth’s
portable
glob?,.
ijons..
OF SCIENCE.
To divide a Rcctangidar Gnomon into four equal
similar Gnomons. Recrea-
Suppose w'e have the rectangular figure A, B, C, D,.
E, F. fig. 21. (a); it is required to divide it into fourpjg,21#
equal and similar rectangular figures.
On examining this figure, we find that the sides AB
and BC are equal, and that if the sides AF and CD
were produced, they would, by meeting, complete the
square, of which the gnomon is evidently a part. The
figure therefore forms three-fourths of a square, and may
be divided into three squares, AIIEF, EFIBG, and
DEGC. Each of these squares may in like manner be
divided into four, as represented by the dotted- lines.
Thus we have the whole gnomon divided into 12 equal
squares, and it is easy to see how from this division we
may form four figures, each constituting three-fourths of
a square, and consequently similar to the original figure.
From four unequal Triangles, of which three must he
Right-angled, to form a Square.
As tire triangles with which this problem is usually To form *
performed, are generally made mechanically, by cutting sfiuareof
them from a square already formed, we shall for the
more easy solution, follow the same method in our first ailn-ie^
illustration. The square A, B, C, D, fig. 22. is divid- Fig 22.
ed into the four triangles E, F, G, H, of which E, F,
and G, are evidently right-angled triangles, while H is
a scalene triangle.
If these triangles were separate, it would appear
very difficult to unite them, so as to form a square.
This may be done, however, by reflecting that three
of the angles of the square must be formed by the angles
of the right-angled triangles, so that these must first
be placed as in the figure, while the scalene triangle
fills up the vacant space, and by its most acute angle
contributes with the most acute angles of the two other
large triangles, to form the remaining right angle of
the square.
These triangles may be constructed geometrically^,
without forming them immediately out of a square. For
this purpose the following proportions may be employ¬
ed. Two of the right-angled triangles must have one
of the sides about the right angle of the same length
in both. The other side about the right angle may be
in one, two-thirds of the first side in the same triangle,
while in the other it may be one-half. In the third;
right-angled triangle, one of the sides containing the,
right angle must, in the present case, be one-third, and
the other one-half of the larger side containing the
right angle in the two former triangles. Having these
three triangles formed, the hypothenuses of which are
evidently determined by the length, of the sides con¬
taining the right angles, we may easily construct the
remaining triangle from the hypothenuses of the three
triangles already formed, according to the 22d propo¬
sition of the first book of Euclid.
To illustrate this by numbers, let us suppose that the.
side of the square to be formed is = four inches.. One
of the triangles, as E, will have its longer side rr four,
inches, its shorter = three inches, and its hypothenuse
= five inches.. The second triangle, as F, will have its
longer
(a) We have denominated this figure a gnomon, because it resembles, in its outline, that part of a parallelogram
iyhich is distinguished by the name of gnomon in the second definition of the second book of Euclid’s Elements*.
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE*
555
G notri- longer side = four Inches, its shorter — two inches,
• al and its hypothenuse = square i'oot of 20 (4.472135);
'i )ns< and the third triangle, as G, will have its longer
u ^ i side rr two inches, its shorter zr one inch, and its liy-
pothenuse = square root of 5 (2.2360G8) : the sides
of the remaining triangle will be respectively 5 inches,
4.472135 inches, and 2.236068 inches.
7b form a Square of five equal Squares.
T< irra a Divide one side of each of four of the squares, as
sT of A, B, C, D, (fig. 23. N° 1, and 2) into two equal parts,
fiv ijual anq from one of the angles adjacent to the opposite
fi is! s'^e draw a straight line to the point of division ; then
cut these four squares in the direction of that line, by
which means each of them will be divided into a tra¬
pezium and a triangle, as seen fig. 23. N° 1.
Lastly, arrange these four trapeziums and these four
triangles around the whole square E, as seen fig. 23.
N° 2, and you will have a square evidently equal to
the five squares given.
To describe an Ellipsis or Oval geometrically.
M od of The geometrical oval is a curve with two unequal
d( JinS axes, and having in its greater axis two points so situat-
ar a' ed, that if lines be drawn to these two points, from each
point of the circumference, the sum of these two lines
will be always the same. See Conic Sections.
F 24- Let AB (fig. 24.) be the greater axis of the ellipsis
to be described ; and let ED, intersecting it at right
* angles, and divided into two equal parts, be the less¬
er axis, which is also divided into two equal parts.at C;
from the point D as a centre, with a radius ~ AC, de¬
scribe an arc of a circle, cutting the greater axis in F
andf ; these two points are what are called the foci.
Fix in each of these a pin, or, if you operate on the
ground, a very straight peg ; then take a thread or a
cord, if you mean to describe the figure on the ground,
having its two ends tied together, and in length equal
to the line AB, plus the distance F/; place it round
the pins or pegs Ffi; then stretch it as seen at FGyj
and with a pencil, or sharp-pointed instrument, make
it move round from B, through D, A, and E, till it re¬
turn again to B. The curve described by the pencil
on paper, or on the ground, by any sharp instrument,
during a whole revolution, will be the curve required.
This ellipsis is sometimes called the gardener s oval,
because, when gardeners describe that figure, they em¬
ploy this method.
An oval figure approximating to the ellipse, may be
described at one sweep of the compasses, by wrapping
the paper on which it is to be described round a cylin¬
drical surface. If a circle be described upon the paper
thus placed, assuming any point as a centre, it is evi¬
dent that when the paper is extended on a plain surface,
we shall have an oval figure, the shorter diameter of
which will be in the direction of the axis of the cylin¬
der on which the oval was described. I his figure, how¬
ever, is by no means an accurate oval, though it may
serve very well as the border of a drawing, or for simi-
50 lar purposes, where great accuracy is not required.
c riv. In no science are amusing contrivances more requi-
l ifo.r site to facilitate the progress of the young pupil than in
,1 t^ng geometry. We are therefore disposed to regard, with
oi ome- particular attention, every attempt to illustrate and ren¬
der popular the elements of this science. We may say
with Mr Edgeworth, that though there is certainly no Geometri-
royal road to geometry, the way may be rendered easy RTrea-
and pleasant by timely preparations for the journey. t;ons>
Without some previous knowledge of the country, or of „ —■ .J
its peculiar language, we can scarcely expect that our
young traveller should advance with facility or plea¬
sure. Young people should, from their earliest years,
be accustomed to what are commonly called the regular
solids, viz. the tetrahedron, or regular four-sided solid;
the cube, or regular six-sided solid ; the octahedron, or
regular eight-sided solid; the dodecahedron, or regular
12-sided solid; and the icosahedron, or regular 20-sided
solid. These may be formed of card or wood, and Mr
Don, an ingenious mathematician of Bristol, has con¬
structed models of these and other mathematical figures,
and explained them in an Essay on Mechanical Geome-*see Edge-
try. Children should also be accustomed to the figures word’s
in mathematical diagrams. To these should be added
their respective names, and the whole language of thet.}lapAT’
scince should be rendered as familiar as possible. * 31
We have lately met with a contrivance for render- Le Petit
ing familiar to children the terms of geometry by means ^dlod;
of an easy trick. This contrivance is called Le Petit la‘
Euclid, and consists of two circular cards, which are
represented at fig. 25. Plate CCCCLXXII, and fig 26.
Plate CCCCLXXIII. Each of these circles is divided
into eight compartments, marked 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,
and within each compartment are represented several
mathematical figures or diagrams. In the centre of
the card represented at fig. 25. is the word question,
and in that at fig. 26. the word answer. On the latter
the figures are distinguished by numbers, referring to
their explanations in the following table.
N°
1. The cone.
2. Curve line.
3. Quadrant.
4. A point.
5. Dotted cosine.
6. Dotted secant.
7. Cube.
8. Pyramid.
9. A perpendicular.
10. Acute-angled triangle.
11. Decagon.
12. Hexagon.
13. Square.
14. Right-angled triangle.
15. Sphere.
16. Circular segment.
17. An angle.
18. Dotted length.
19. Parallelopipedon.
20. Dotted radius.
21. A sector.
22. Heptagon.
23. The base.
24. Dotted abscisse.
25. Isosceles triangle.
26. Dotted line subtend¬
ing an angle.
27. Dotted ordinate.
28. Enneagon, or regular
9-sided figure.
4 A 2
N°
29. The foci of an ellipse.
SO. Octagon.
31- Rhomboid.
32. Equilateral triangle.
33. Pentagon.
34. Spindle.
35. A scalene triangle. -
36. Parallelogram.
37. Obtuse-angled triangle.
38. Dotted height.
39. Hyperbola.
40. Dotted conjugate dia¬
meter.
41. Dotted hypothenuse.
42. Dotted parameter.
43. Rhombus.
44. Dotted diameter.
45. Dotted sine.
46. An obtuse angle.
47. Parabola.
48. Cylinder.
49. External angle.
50. Dotted tangent.
51. Straight line.
52. Ellipsis.
53. Dotted diagonal.
54. Circle.
55. Dotted transverse dia¬
meter.
56. Prism.
57. Dotted
556
(Jeometri-
Jiecrea. ^ottec* versed Sine,
tions." Alternate angles.
« 59. A semicircle.
60. Dotted chord.
61. A right angle.
To form a trick with these cards, the teacher is to
hold the question card, and the pupil the answer card.
The teacher is to think of a figure in any one of his
compartments, and to mention to the pupil both the
number of the compartment in the question, and that
in the answer card, on which the figure is found. The
pupil is then to begin with the first or outmost diagram
on the left hand of the compartment in his own card,
where the figure thought on is said to be contained,
and to count from this down the left-hand row towards
the centre, and thence, if necessary, from the outmost
diagram on the right hand of the same compartment
towards the centre, till his counting reaches the number
of the compartment in the question card, where the fi¬
gure was at first found.
For example, let us suppose that the teacher thinks
on a figure in the compartment of his card marked 2,
and that he finds the same figure in the compartment of
the answer card which is marked 6. The learner be¬
ginning to count from the first figure on the left hand
in his sixth compartment, viz. that marked 48, comes
immediately to the figure marked 30, which is that
thought of by the teacher, and proves to be an octagon.
Again, if the figure thought on be found in the sixth
compartment of the question card, and in the fifth of
the answer card, the learner beginning with the figure
marked 15, and passing successively to 22, 24, 57, and
49, comes for his sixth place to 36, the figure thought
of, which is a parallelogram.
The design of this contrivance is ingenious ; but its
execution, at least in the copy which we have seen, is
extremely faulty. Many of the terms are misprinted,
some of them inaccurate, and the explanation scarcely
intelligible. We have endeavoured to rectify these de¬
fects, and trust we have succeeded.
Sect. IX. Recreations and Contrivances relating
to Hydrodynamics.
32
Hydrostatic In our treatise on Hydrodynamics, under which
Recrea- head we have included Hydrostatics and Hydrau-
tions. Lies, we have described several entertaining experiments
and useful contrivances, and explained them according
to hydrostatical principles. Thus, at N° 49 and 50,
we have explained the hydrostatic paradox, showing
that the pressure on the bottoms of vessels filled with
fluids does not depend on the quantity of fluid which
they contain, but on its altitude; at JS0 51, we have
illustrated the upward pressure of fluids by the hydrosta¬
tic bellows ; at N° 54 and 55. we have explained and
illustrated the use of the syphon ; at N° 112 and 113,
we have shown how capillary attraction and the attrac¬
tion of cohesion may be illustrated by experiment; in
Chap. III. of Part III. we have described the various
machines employed for raising water, such as pumps,
fire engines, Archimedes’s screw, the Persian wheel,
&c. and explained their action ; at N° 355, we have
described Bramah’s hydrostatic press, and at N° 356, et
seq. we have described and explained the clepsydra Hydrcstati<
with its varieties. The following amusing experiments ^erea.
are derived from Ozanam and Montucla. , tl°11^
To construct a vessel which, when filled to a certain T 53
height with any liquor, shall retain the liquor, but^^'s
shall suffer the whole to escape when filled with the
same fiuid ever so little above that height.
Let there be a metallic vessel, as ABCD, fig. 27. Fig.27,
divided into two parts by a partition Vfi, having in the
middle a small round hole, as at M, to receive a tube
MS, about two lines in diameter, so that the lower
orifice M may descend a little below the partition.
This tube is open at both ends, but is to be covered
with another a little larger, closed at the top, and hav¬
ing on one side, at the bottom, an aperture, so that
when water is poured into the vessel, it may force its
way between the two tubes, and rise to the upper ori¬
fice S, of the inner tube. This mechanism must be
concealed by a small figure of a man in the attitude of
stooping to drink, which ive may call Tantalus. This
figure must have its lips a little above the orifice S.
If water be poured into this vessel, so long at it does
not ascend above the orifice S, it will be retained; but
as soon as it gets above this orifice, so as to touch the
lips of Tantalus, it will begin to run off, the tubes act¬
ing in the manner of a syphon, and carrying off the
whole of the water into the lower cavity, which ought
to have in its side, near the partition, a small aperture
for allowing the air which it contains to escape, while
the water supplies its place.
This machine may be rendered still more amusing by
constructing the small figure of Tantalus in such a man¬
ner, that when the water has attained its utmost height,
it shall cause the head of the figure to move, so that its
lips may approach the fluid, thus representing the ges¬
tures of Tantalus endeavouring to catch the water to
quench his thirst.
To const ruct a vessel which, while standing upright, retains
the liquor poured into it ; but if inclined, as for the
purpose of drinking, immediately suffers it to escape.
Let a hole be pierced in the bottom or side of the
vessel to which you are desirous of giving this proper¬
ty, and insert in it the longer branch of a syphon, the
other extremity of which must reach nearly to the bot¬
tom, as seen fig. 28.; then fill the vessel wfith any li-Fig.2S.
quor as far as the lower side of the bent part of the sy¬
phon ; it is evident that when inclined, and applied to
the mouth, this movement will cause the surface of the
water to rise above the bending, and from the nature
of the syphon the liquor will begin to flow; and if the
vessel is not restored to its former position, will conti¬
nue doing so till it becomes empty.
This artifice might be concealed by means of a.dou¬
ble cup, as appears at fig. 29.; for the syphon c, Fig. 29.
placed between the two sides, will produce the same ef¬
fect. If the vessel be properly presented to the person
whom you are desirous of deceiving, that is to say, in
such a manner as to make him apply his lips to the side
b, the summit of the syphon, the inclination of the li¬
quor will cause it to rise above that summit, and it will
immediately escape at c. Those persons, however, who
are acquainted with the artifice will apply their lips to the
other side, and not meet with the same disappointment-
Method
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE.
N°
62. A spherical frustum.
63. Vertical or opposite an¬
gles.
64. An acute angle.
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE. 557
H; wta* Method of constructing an hydraulic machine, in which
tic crea* a bird appears to drink up all the water that spouts up
1S‘ , through a pipe, and falls into a basin.
!] Let ABDC, fig. 30. be a vessel, divided into two
^ a parts by an horizontal partition EF; and let the upper
cavity be divided into two parts also by a vertical par¬
tition GIL A communication is formed between the
upper cavity BF, and the lower one EC, by a tube
LM, which proceeds from the lower partition, and de¬
scends almost to the bottom DC. A similar commu¬
nication is formed between the lower cavity EC, and
the upper one AG, by the tube IK, which, rising from
the horizontal partition EF, proceeds nearly to the top
AB. A third tube, terminating at the upper extre¬
mity in a very small aperture, descends nearly to the
partition EF, and passes through the centre of a basin
RS, intended to receive the water which issues from it.
Near the edge of this basin is a bird with its bill im¬
mersed in it; and through the body of the bird passes
a bent syphon QP, the aperture of which, P, is much
lower than the aperture Q. Such is the construction
of this machine, the use of which is as follows.
Fill the two upper cavities with water through two
holes made for the purpose in the sides of the vessel,
and which must be afterwards shut. It maybe easily
seen that the water in the cavity AG ought not to rise
above the orifice K of the pipe KI. If the cock adapt¬
ed to the pipe LM be then opened, the water of the
upper cavity HF will flow into the lower cavity, where
it will compress the air, and make it pass through the
pipe KI into the cavity AG; in this cavity it will
compress the air which is above it, and the air press¬
ing upon it: will force it to spout up through the pipe
NO, from whence it will fall down into the basin.
But at the same time that the water flows from the
cavity BG, into the lower one, the air will become ra¬
refied in the upper part of that cavity ; hence, as the
weight of the atmosphere will act on the water already
poured into the basin through the orifice O of the as¬
cending pipe NO, the water will flow through the bent
pipe QSP, into the same cavity BG ; and this mo¬
tion, when once established, will continue as long as
there is any w^ater in the cavity AG.
Sect. X. Recreations and Contrivances relating
t to Magnetism.
Ma :tic The attracting and repelling power of the opposite
l0ns• poles of a magnet, have furnished the writers on scien¬
tific recreations with a great variety of entertaining ex¬
periments. In our treatise on Magnetism, we have
selected a few of these, viz. the communicating piece of
money (Magnetism, N° 39.); the magnetic table {'N°
40.); the mysterious ivatch (N° 41.); the magnetic dial
(N° 42.); and the divining circles (N° 43.) We shall
here describe a few other interesting experiments, and
refer such of our readers as wish for a greater variety of
these amusements, to the original work of Ozanam al¬
ready mentioned in N° 3, or the Rational Recreations of
Dr Hooper, and to the 51st part of the Encyclopedic
Methodique, containing Amusemens des Sciences, with
• the plates on Amusemens de Physique, in the 42d part
^ :xte- of the same work.
«r. The dexterous Painter.
flE i. Provide two small boxes, as M and N (fig, 31.) four
3
inches wide, and four inches and a half long. Let the Magnetic
box M be half an inch deep, and N twm thirds of an Ilecrea“
inch. They must both open with hinges, and shut with tl0ns' ,
a clasp. Have four small pieces of light wood (figs. “
32, 33, 34, 35.) of the same size with the inside of the Fig. 32,33,
box M (fig. 31.), and about one third of an inch thick. 54^55.
In each of these let there be a groove, as AB, EF,
CD, GH; these grooves must be in the middle, and pa¬
rallel to two of the sides. In each of these grooves place
a strong artificial magnet, as fig. 36. The poles of
these magnets must be properly disposed with regard to
the figures that are to be painted on the boards ; as is
expressed in the plate. Cover the bars w ith paper to
prevent their being seen ; but take care, in pasting it
on, not to wet tbe bars, as they will be rusted, and
thus their virtue will be considerably impaired. When
you have painted such subjects as you choose, you may
cover them with a very thin clear glass. At the centre
of the box N, place a pivot, (fig. 37.) on which a small
circle of pasteboard OPQR (fig. 38.) is to turn quite
free. Under this must be a touched needle S. Divide
this circle into four parts, which are to be disposed with
regard to the poles of the needle, as is expressed in the
figure. In these four divisions paint the same subjects
as are on the four boards, but reduced to a smaller
compass. Cover the inside of the top of this box with
a paper, M, (see fig. 31.) in which must be an opening, Fig. 31.
D, at about half an inch from the centre of the box,
that you may perceive successively, the four small pic¬
tures on the pasteboard circle just mentioned. This
opening is to serve as the cloth on which the little paint¬
er is supposed to draw one of the pictures. Cover the
top of the box with a thin glass. Then give the first
box to any person, and tell him to place any one of the
four pictures in it privately ; and when he has closed
it, to give it to you, then place the other box over it,
when the moveable circle, with the needle, will turn
till it comes in the same position with the bar in the
first box. It will then appear that the little dexterous
painter has already copied the picture that is enclosed
in the first box.
The Cylindric Oracle.
Provide a hollow cylinder about six inches high, and Cylindric
three wide, as AB (fig. 39.) Its cover CD must beoracle-
made to fix on in any position. On one side of this box
or cylinder, let there be a groove, nearly of the same
length with that side; in which place a small steel bar
(fig. 40.) that is strongly impregnated, with the north
pole next to the bottom of the cylinder. On the up¬
per side of the cylinder describe a circle, and divide it
into ten equal parts, in which are to be written the
numbers from 1 to 10, as is expressed in fig. 41. Place
a pivot at the centre of this circle, and have ready a.
magnetic needle. Then provide a bag in which there
are several divisions. In each of these divisions put a
number of papers, on which the same or similar ques¬
tions are to be written. In the cylinder put several dif¬
ferent answers to each question, and seal them up in the
manner of small letters. On each of these letters or
answers is to be written one of the numbers of the dial
or circle at the top of the box. You are supposed to
know the number of answers to each question. Then
offer one of the divisions of the bag, (observing which
division it is) to any person, and desire him to draw one
55S AMUSEMENTS
Magnetic oF the papers. Next pat the top on the cylinder, with
Kccrea- num[)er which is written on the answer directly
, ' , over tlie bar. Then desire the person who drew the
question to observe the number at which the needle
stands, and to search in the box for a paper of the same
number, which be will find to contain the answer.—
The experiment may be repeated by offering another
division of the bag to the same, or another person;
and placing the number that corresponds to the an¬
swer over the magnetic bar, proceeding as before.
It is easy to conceive several answers to the same
question. For example, suppose the question to be,
Is it -proper for me to marry ?
Ans. 1. While you are young, not yet; when you
are old, not at all.
2. Marry in haste, and repent at leisure.
S. No, if you are apt to be out of humour with your¬
self; for then you will have two persons to quarrel with.
4. Yes, if you are sure to get a good husband (or
wife), for that is the greatest blessing of life. But take
care you aYe sure.
5. No, if the person you would marry is an angel ;
57 unless you would be content to live with the devil.
The en- Fix a common ewer, as A (fig. 42.) of about 12
‘chanted inches high, upon a square stand BC ; on one side of
which there must be a drawer D, of about four inches
square, and half an inch deep. In the ewer place a
Fig. 43. hollow tin cone inverted, as AB (fig. 43.) of about
four inches and a half diameter at top, and two inches
at bottom ; and at the bottom of the ewer there must
likewise be a hole of two inches diameter.
Upon the stand, at about an inch distance from the
bottom of the ewer, and directly under the hole, place
a small convex mirror II, of such convexity that a
person’s visage, when viewed in it at about 15 inches
distance, may not appear above 2^ inches long.
Upon the stand likewise at the point I, place a pivot
of half an inch high, on which must be fixed a touched
needle ItQ, inclosed in a circle of very thin pasteboard
Fig. 44, OS (fig. 44.) of five inches diameter. Divide this
pasteboard into four parts, in each of which draw a
small circle; and in three of these circles paint ahead;
as x, y, z, the dress of each of which is to be different;
one, for example, having a turban, another a wig, and
the other a woman’s cap. Let that part which contains
the face in each picture be cut out, and let the fourth
circle be entirely cut out, as it is expressed in the figure.
You must observe, that the poles of the needle are to
be disposed in the same manner as in the figures.
Next provide four small frames of wood or paste¬
board, N° 1, 2, 3, 4, each of the same size with the in¬
side of the drawer. On these frames must be painted
the same figures as on the circular pasteboard, with this
difference, that there must be no part of them cut out.
Behind each of these pictures place a magnetic bar, in
the same direction as is expressed in the figures; and
cover them over with paper, that they may not be vi¬
sible. Matters being thus prepared, first place in the
drawer the frame N° 4, on which there is nothing
painted. Then pour a small quantity of water into the
ewer, and desire the company to look into it, asking
them if they see their own figures as they are. Then
take out the frame N° 4, and give the three others to
any one, desiring him to choose in which of those dres-
#es he would appear. Then put the frame with the
OF SCIENCE.
dress he has chosen in the drawer, and a moment after, Magnetiij
the person looking into the ewer will see his own face R?crea-
surrounded with the dress of that picture. For, the tU)ns'
pasteboard circle (divided as above described, into four'
parts, in three of which are painted the same figures
as on three of the boards, and the fourth left blank)
containing a magnetic needle, and the four boards hav¬
ing each a concealed magnet; therefore when one of
them is put in the drawer under the ewer, the circle
will correspond to the position of that magnet, and con¬
sequently the person looking into the top of the ewer
will see his own face surrounded with the head dress of
the figure in the drawer. This experiment, well per¬
formed, is highly entertaining. As the pasteboard cir¬
cle can contain only three heads, you may have several
such circles, but must then have several other frames:
and the ewer must be made to take oft’ from the stand. sg
Provide a wooden box, about 13 inches long and 7 T1>c box
inches wide, as A BCD (fig. 45.) The cover of this™L'ta^
box should be as thin as possible. Have six small 3‘
boxes or tablets, about an inch deep, all of the same size
and form, as E, F, G, H, I, K, that they may indiscri¬
minately go into similar holes made in the bottom of •
the large box. In each of these tablets is to be placed
a small magnetic bar, with its poles disposed as express¬
ed in the figure. Cover each of these tablets with a
thin plate of one of the six following metals, viz. gold,
silver, copper, iron, pewter, and lead. Have also a
magnetic perspective, at the end of which are to be
two circles, one divided into six equal parts, and the
other into four (as in fig. 46.), from the centre of which
there must be drawn an index N, whose point is to be
placed to the north. Therefore, when you are on the
side CD of the box, and hold the perspective over any
one of the tablets that are placed on the holes E, F, G,
so that the index drawn on the circle is perpendicular
to the side AB, the needle in the perspective will have
its south pole directed to the letter that denotes the
metal contained in that tablet. When you hold I he
perspective over one of the boxes placed in the holes
H, I, K, so that the index drawn on the circle is per¬
pendicular to the side CD, the south pole of the needle
will, in like manner, express the name of the metal
inclosed. If the under side of any of the tablets be
turned upwards, the needle will be slower in its mo¬
tion, on account of the greater distance of the bar.
The gold and silver will still have the same direction;
but the four other metals will be expressed by the let-
teis on the interior circle. If any one of the metals
be taken away, the needle will not then take any of
the above directions, but naturally point to the north;
and its motion will be much slower. Therefore, give
the box to any one, and leave him at liberty to dis¬
pose all the tables in what manner and with what side
upwards he pleases, and even to take any of them
away. Then, by the aid of the perspective, you may
tell him immediately the name of the metal on each
tablet, and of that which he has taken away. 59
Construct a round box, ILNM (fig. 47.), of eight The nwj
or nine inches diameter, and half an inch deep. On its I
bottom fix a circle of pasteboard, on which draw the ^ 47.1
central circle A, and the seven surrounding circles
B, C, D, E, F, G, H. Divide the central circle into
seven equal parts by the lines AB, AC, AD, AE, AF,
AG, AH, which must pass through the centres of the
other uf
AMUSEMENTS OE SCIENCE.
jl letlc other circles, and divide each of them into t'.vo equal
I ea' parts. Then divide the circumference of each of these
’’ , circles into 14 equal parts, as in the figure. Have also
^ ~ ~ another pasteboard of the same figure, and divided in
the same manner, which must turn freely in the box by
means of an axis placed on a pivot, one end of which is
pj, s. to be in the centre of the circle A (see tig. 48.) On
each of the seven smaller circles at the bottom of the
box, place a magnetic bar, two inches long, in the
same direction with the diameters of those circles, and
their poles in the situation expressed in the figure. There
must be an index O (fig. 48.) like that of the hour
hand of a dial, which is to be fixed on the axis of the
central circle, and by which the pasteboard circle in
the box may be turned about. There must also be a
needle P, which must turn freely on the axis, without
moving the circular pasteboard. In each of the seven
divisions of the central circle write a different question ;
and in another circle, divided into 12 parts, write the
names of the 12 months. In each of the seven circles
write two answers to each question, observing that
there must be but seven words in each answer, in the
following manner. In the first division of the circle G
(fig. 47.), which is opposite to the first question, write
the first word of the first answer. In the second division
of the next circle, write the second word, and so on to
the last wmrd, which will be in the seventh division of
the seventh circle.
In the eighth division of the first circle, write the
first word of the second answer ; in the ninth division of
the -second circle, write the second word of the same
answer, and so on to the 14th division of the seventh
circle, which must contain the last word of that an¬
swer. The same must be done with all the seven ques¬
tions, and to each of them must be assigned two an¬
swers, the words of which must be dispersed through
the seven circles. At the centre of each of these circles
place a pivot, and have two magneted needles, the
pointed end of one of which must be north, and the
Fij 8. other south, QR (fig. 48.) Now, the index of the
central circle being directed to anyone of the questions,
if you place one of the two magnetic needles on each of
the seven lesser circles, they will fix themselves accord¬
ing to the direction of the bars on the correspondent
circles at the bottom of the box, and consequently point
to the seven words which compose the answer. If you
place one of the other needles on each circle, it will
point to the w ords that are diametrically opposite to
those of the first answer ; the north pole being in the
place of the south pole of the other. Therefore, pre¬
sent this planetarium to any person, and desire him to
choose one of the questions there written ; and then set
the index of the central circle to that question ; putting
one of the needles on each of the seven circles, turn it
about; and when they all settle, they will point to the
seven words that compose the answer. The twro answers
may be one favourable and the other unfavourable, and
the different needles will serve to diversify the answers
when the experiment is repeated.
There may be also a moveable needle to place against
the names of the months ; and when the party has fixed
upon a question, place that needle against the month in
which he was born, which will give the business a more
mysterious air. On the centre of the large circle may
be the figure of the sun; and on each of the seven smal-
I.
ler circles one of the characters of the principal planets. ^
This experiment, well executed, is one of the most cn-
tertaining produced by magnetism.
Provide a box XY (fig. 49.), 18 inches long, nine
w’ide, and two deep, the top of which is to slide off and The
on at the end Y. Towards the end X, describe a cir- clous
cle of six inches diameter, around which are to be fixed
six small vases of wood or ivory, of an inch and a half
high, and to each of them there must be a cover, At
the end Y place an egg B, of ivory or some such mate¬
rial, about three inches and a half high, with a cover
that shuts by a hinge, and fastens with a spring. It
must be fixed on the stand C, through which, as w'ell
as the bottom of the egg, and the part of the box di¬
rectly underneath, there is a hole of one-third of an
inch diameter. In this cavity place an ivory cylinder
F, that can move freely, and which rises or falls by
means of the spring R. You must have a thin copper
basin, A, of six inches diameter, which is to be placed
on the centre of the circle next X, and consequently in
the middle of the six vases. Let a pepper workman
construct the movement expressed by fig. 50. which is
composed of a quadrant G, that has 16 teeth* and is
moveable about an axis in the stand H, that has an el¬
bow, by which it is screwed to the bottom of the box
at L. To the quadrant there must be joined the straight
piece K. The horizontal wheel M has 24 teeth, and
is supported by the piece S, which is screwed to the
end of the box next Y. On the axis of this wheel
place a brass rod OP, five inches long ; and at the part
O place a large bar or horse shoe, of a semicircular form,
and about two inches and a half diameter, strongly im¬
pregnated. The steel rod V, takes at one end tha-
teeth of the quadrant G, by the pinion F, and at the
other end the wheel M, by the perpendicular wheel N,
of 30 teeth ; the two ends of this rod are supported by
the two stands that hold the other pieces. Under tlio
piece K, that joins* to the quadrant, must be placed the
spring R, by which it is raised, and pushes up the cy¬
linder that goes through the stand C into the egg. YYm
must also have six small cases as Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y.
These must be of the same circumference with the cylin¬
der in the stand, and round at their extremities ; their
length must be different, that when they are placed in
the egg, and the lower end enters the hole in which
is, the cylinder, they may thrust it down more or less,
when the top of the egg against which they press is fas¬
tened down ; and thereby lower the bar that is fixed to ■
the end of the quadrant, and consequently by means of
the pinion Z and wheels NM turn the horse shoe that is
placed upon the axis of the last wheel. The exact
length of these cases can be determined by trials only ;
but these trials may be made with round pieces of wood*
In each of these cases place a different question, written
on a slip of paper and rolled up, and in each of the vases
put the answer to one of the questions ; as you will
know, by trials, wdiere the magnetic bar or horse shoo
will stop. Lastly, Provide a small figure of a swan, of
cork or enamel, in which fix a touched needle, of the
largest size of those commonly used.in sewing. .
Being thus prepared, offer a person the six cases-, and
desire him to choose any one of them, and conceal the
rest, or give them to different persons. He is then to
open his case, read the question to himself, and return
the case, after replacing the question. You then put
the-
560 AMUSEMENTS
Mechanic the case in the egg, and placing the swan in the basin
TorT" on water> you company she will soon disco-
, , ver in which of the vases the answer is contained. The
same experiment may be repeated with all the cases.
Sect. XL Recreations and Contrivances relating to
Mechanics.
41
Mechanic In the article Mechanics, wq have described some
recreations, of the lighter experiments by which the principles of
that science are illustrated, and have explained the con¬
struction and action of several ingenious and useful ma¬
chines. In particular, we have described the windmill
at N° 428.; several carriages that are capable of mov¬
ing without horses, at Nos. 455, 456, 457, and 458.;
a carriage that cannot be overturned, at N° 459.; At¬
wood’s machine for illustrating the doctrines of accele¬
rated and retarded motion, at N° 460.; a machine for
illustrating the theory of the wedge, at 467-; a ma¬
chine for illustWing the effects of the centrifugal force
in flattening ,the poles of the earth, at 468 ; a machine
for trying the strength of materials, at 469.; a machine
in which all the mechanical powers are united, 470.;
Fiddler’s balance at 471.; an improvement in the
balance, 472.; a machine for showing the composition
of forces, at 473.; Smeaton’s machine for experiments
on windmill sails, at 474.; Smeaton’s machine for ex¬
periments on rotatory motion, at 475. ; Prony’s con¬
denser of forces, at 476.; a portable stone crane for
loading and unloading carts, with several other cranes,
at 477, 478, 479, 480, and 482.; Bramah’s jib for
cranes, at 481.; the common worm-jack, at 483.; a
portable loading and unloading machine, at 484.; Vau-
loue’s pile engine, at 485. and Bunco’s pile engine at
486. We have also, in the articles An oroides and
Automaton, described several ingenious contrivances
for producing various animal motions by means of ma¬
chinery, or what is commonly called clock-work, espe¬
cially M. Yaucanson’s flute-player, and M. Kempell’s
chess-player.
In the present article we shall first present our read¬
ers with a few mechanical contrivances that may pro¬
perly be called amusing; shall give the substance of an
ingenious paper on the philosophical uses of a common
watch ; and shall conclude the section with an account
of Edgeworth’s Panorganon, or universal machine for
illustrating the effect of the mechanical powers.
42 To support a pail of water by a stick, only one half of
which, or less, rests on the edge of a table.
Fig. 51. Let AB (fig. 51.) be the top of the table, and CD
the stick that is to support the bucket. Convey the
handle of the bucket over this stick, in such a manner,
that it may rest on it in an inclined position, as IH, and
let the middle of the bucket be a little within the edge of
the table. That the whole apparatus may be fixed in this
situation, place another stick as GFE, with one end, G,
resting against the side of the bucket at the bottom,
while its middle, F, rests against the opposite edge of
the bucket at the top, and its other extremity, E, rests
against the first stick CD, in which a notch should be
cut to retain it. By these means the bucket will re¬
main fixed in that situation, without inclining to either
side ; and if not already full of water, it may be filled
OF SCIENCE.
with safety, for its centre of gravity being in the ver- Mechanic
tical line passing through the point H, which meets lieera'
with the table, it is evident that the pail is in the same t’on3'
circumstances as if it were suspended from that point " ^
of the table where the vertical line would meet the
edge. It is also evident that the stick cannot slide
along the table, nor move on its edge, without raising
the centre of gravity of the bucket, and of the water
which it contains. The heavier it is, therefore, the
more stable will be its position.
According to this principle, various other tricks of
the same kind, which are generally proposed in books
on mechanics, may be performed. For example, pro¬
vide a bent hook DGF, as seen at the opposite end of
the same figure, and insert the part, FD, in the pipe of
a key at D, which must be placed on the edge of a ta¬
ble : from the lower part of the hook suspend a weight
G, and dispose the whole in such a manner that the
vertical line GD may be a little within the edge of the
table. When this arrangement has been made, the
weight will not fall; and the case will be the same with
the key, w'hieh, had it been placed alone in that situa¬
tion, wmuld perhaps have fallen ; and this resolves the
following mechanical problem, proposed in the form of
a paradox : A body having a tendency to fall by its own
weight, how to prevent it from falling, by adding to it a
weight on the same side on which it tends to fall.
To construct a figure which, without any counterpoise,
shall always raise itsef upright, and preserve or re¬
gain that position, however it may be disturbed.
Let a figure, resembling a man, ape, &c. be formed *3
of some very light substance, such as the pith of elder,
which is soft, and can easily be cut into any required
figure. Then provide a hemispherical base of some very
heavy substance, such as lead. The half of a leaden
bullet made very smooth on the convex part will be
very proper for this purpose. If now the figure be ce¬
mented to the plain part of this hemisphere ; in what¬
ever position it may be placed it will rise upright as
soon as it is left to itself; for the centre of gravity of
its hemispherical base being in the axis, tends to ap¬
proach the horizontal plain as much as possible. This
it cannot attain till the axis becomes perpendicular to
the horizon ; but as the small figure, on account of the
disproportion between its weight and that of the base,
scarcely deranges the latter from its place, the natural
perpendicularity of the axis is easily regained in all
positions.
According to this principle were constructed the
small figures called Prussians, which some years ago
constituted one of the amusements of young people.
They were formed into battalions, and being made to
fall down by drawing a rod over them, immediately
started up again as soon as it was removed. On the
same principle screens have been constructed, so as to
rise of themselves when they happen to be thrown
down.
To make a body ascend along an inclined plane in conse- 45
quence of its own gravity.
Let a body be constructed of wood, ivory, or someFg"5-
such material, consisting of two equal right cones united
by
AMUSEMENTS
anic by their bases, as EF (fig. 52.); and let two straight,
ea' flat, smooth rulers, as AB, CD, be so placed as to join
, in an angle at the extremities A, C, and diverge to-
2 wards BD, where they must be a little elevated, so
that their edges may form a gently inclined plane. If
now the double cone be placed on the inclining edges,
pretty near the angle, it will roll towards the elevated
ends of the rulers, and thus appear to ascend; for the
parts of the cone that rest on the rulers, growing smaller
as they go over a larger opening, and thus letting down
the larger part of the body, the centre of gravity de¬
scends, though the whole body seems to rise along the
inclined plane.
To insure the success of this experiment, care must
be taken that the height of the elevated ends of the
rulers be less than the radius of the circle forming the
base of the cones.
’4 Explanation of the upright Position preserved in a Top
or Tee-totum while it is revolving.
This is explained on the principle of centrifugal force,
which teaches us that a body cannot move in a circular
direction, without making an effort to fly off from the
centre; so if it be confined by a string made fast in that
centre, it will stretch the string in proportion as the cir¬
cular motion is more rapid. See Dynamics. It is this
centrifugal force of the parts of the top or tee-totum
that preserves it in an upright position. The instrument
being in motion, all its parts tend to fly off from the
axis, and that with greater force the more rapid the re¬
volution. Hence it follows that these parts are like so
many powers acting in a direction perpendicular to the
axis. As, however, they are all equal, and pass ra¬
pidly round by the rotation, the instrument must be in
equilibria on its point of support, or the extremity of the
axis on which it turns. The motion is gradually im¬
peded by the friction of the axis against the surface on
which it moves ; and we find that the instrument re¬
volves for a longer time, in proportion as this friction is
avoided by rendering very smooth the surfaces of the
5 axis, and the plane on which it moves,
iophi- There are many observations and experiments in dif-
es of ferent departments of science, the accuracy of which de-
mon pends greatly, and in some cases entirely, on the accu¬
rate measurement of minute portions of time; such, for
instance, as the determination of the velocity of sound,
the nature of the descent of falling bodies, the measure
of the sun’s diaVneter, the distance of two contiguous, or
at least apparently contiguous, heavenly bodies taken
at their passage over the meridian, and the distance of
places from the difference of the velocity of light and
sound. A pendulum for swinging seconds has usually
been employed for these and similar purposes, and in an
observatory is found to be very convenient; but a watch,
by being more portable, is calculated to be more gene¬
ral in its application, and wrill measure smaller portions
of time than any other instrument that has been invent¬
ed. Besides, it possesses this peculiar advantage, that
in all situations its beats may be counted by the ear, at
the same time that the object of observation is viewed
by the eye, so that no loss is incurred, as must inevi¬
tably happen, when the eye is used to view both the
object and pendulum in succession, should this latter be
ever so quick. But it will be objected here, that few
Vgl. XVIII. Part II.
OF SCIENCE. 561
watches measure time accurately, and that, from the Mechanic
different constructions of watches, the times corre- If(;crea“
spending to their beats vary in a very considerable de- f
gree. We allow these objections to be true, and con¬
ceive that to them the reason may be attributed, why
the beat of a watch is not generally applied as the mea¬
sure of the lowest denomination of subdivisions of time.
We shall therefore endeavour to obviate these objec¬
tions, by showing how any tolerably good watch, what¬
ever be its construction, may be applied with advan¬
tage to many philosophical purposes.
We must, in the first place, consider, that the por¬
tions of time which we propose to measure by a watch
are small, and those to be counted not by a second-hand,
as is the custom with medical men, but altogether by the
beats; in which case, if the watch be not liable to lose
or gain time considerably in a day, the error in the rate
of going will be extremely minute in the time corre¬
sponding to any number of beats that the memory can
retain, 01 that the purposes to whicfujve propose the
application to be made will require ; Vidawen if the
error in the rate of going be consideraM@$Eso as to a-
mount to several minutes in a day, as it is uniform, it
may easily be allowed for by a correction. Thus, if the
error were five minutes per day, the allowance would
be upwards of -5-^oth part. Hence the first objection,
which relates to the error occasioned by the rate of go¬
ing of any watch, will constitute no real obstacle to its
application in the ascertaining of small portions of time,
provided a sudden change of temperature be avoided at
the time of using it; for it will be necessary that the
rate of going be estimated when the temperature is the
same, as when the watch is used for philosophical pur¬
poses ; so that if it is usually worn in the pocket, it
may be held in the hand to the ear, but if it be hang¬
ing in a room or in the open air,where the rate of going
is ascertained, it must be hung near the ear, under si¬
milar circumstances, where any observation is intended
to be made by it.
As to the other objection, which applies to the varia¬
tion in the lengths of the beats of two different watches,
owing to the difference of their constructions, though
they, indicate hours and minutes alike, it may be very
readily removed. All common watches have the same
number of wheels and pinions, which are known by the
same names, and placed, no matter how' variously, so as
to act together without interruption; but all watches
have not their corresponding wheels and pinions divided
into the same number of teeth and spaces ; and from
this circumstance the beats of different v/atches differ
from each other. As the rate of going of a w'atch is
regulated by the lengthening or shortening of a spring,
without any regard being had to the numbers which
compose the teeth of the wheels and pinions, a great la¬
titude is allowable in the calculation of those numbers;
of which the different makers avail themselves according
as the numbers on the engines they use for cutting the
teeth require ; but whatever the numbers may be of
which the wheel-work consists, if we divide double the
product of all the wheels, from the centre wheel to the
crown wheel inclusively, by the product of all the pi¬
nions with which they act, the quotient will invariably
be the number of beats of the watch in question in one
hour; and again, if we divide this quotient by 3600,
the number of seconds in an hour, this latter quotient
+ 4 B will
S62
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE.
Mechanic will be the number of beats in every second, which may
Hecrea- be carriecl to any number of places in decimals, and be
copied upon the watch-paper for inspection whenever
* it may be wanted.
When any particular watch is cleaned, the workman
may be directed to count, and return in writing, the
numbers of the centre wheel, the third wheel, the con-
trate wheel, and the crown (balance) wheel, and also
of the three pinions which they actuate, respectively,
from which the calculation of the length of a beat is ea¬
sily made by the rule just given, and, when once made,
will apply in all instances where that individual watch
is used. It may be remarked here, that no notice is
taken of the wheels and pinions which constitute the
dial work, or of the great wheel and pinion with w’hich
it acts; the use of the former of these is only to make
the hour and minute hands revolve in their respective
times, and may or may not be the same in all watches ;
and the use of the latter, the great wheel and its pinion,
is to determimaAin conjunction with the number of spi¬
rals on the,Jas#f, the number of hours that the watch
shall continW to go, at one winding up of the chain
round the barrel of the mainspring. All these wheels
and pinions, therefore, it will be perceived, are unne¬
cessary to be taken into the account in calculating the
beats per hour. The reason why double the product of
the wheels specified is taken in the calculation is, that
•ne tooth of the crown wheel completely escapes the
palats at every two beats or vibrations of the balance.
A few examples of the numbers exhibited in the
wheels of some common watches will render the gene¬
ral rule which we have laid down more intelligible.
We shall take four examples, the first expressing the
Humbers of a common watch, as given by Mr Emmer-
son. In this watch the centre wheel contained 54 teeth,
its pinion 6 teeth ; the third wheel 48 teeth, its pinion
6 ; the contrate wheel 48 teeth, and its pinion 6 ; the
crown wheel 15 teeth, besides 2 palats. Now, we have
54 X 48 X 48 X 15 X 2zr3732480for double the pro¬
duct of the specified wheels, and 6 X 6 X 6=216 for
the product of the specified pinions ; also
3732480
216
17280 are the number of beats in an hour: accordingly
Mr Emmerson says that this watch makes about 4.75
beats in a second. The number of spirals on the fusee
48
is 7 ; therefore 7 X 77, =28, the number of hours that
the watch will go at one winding up : likewise the dial
work — X ^= ^ = 12 shews that whilst the first
10 12 120
driving pinion of 10 goes 12 times round, the last wheel
of 36 goes only once ; whence the angular velocity of
two hands carried by their hollow axles are to each
Other as 12 to 1.
In a second example the numbers in the calculation
of beats per second will be as follows, 60 X 60 X 60 X
13 x 2 = 5616000 = double the product of the wheels,
and 8 x 8 X6 = 384, the product of the pinions ; then
5616000
384
= 14625 = the number of heats in an hour.
14625
and — qq = 4.0625, the number of beats per second.
In a third watch the numbers require the following
calculation, 54 X 52 x 52x13 X 2=3796416, for dou¬
ble the product of the wheels, and 6x6x6 = 216, the Median!
3796416 Recrea-
product of the pinions : therefore ■—— = 17576, tions,
17576
the beats in an hour, and „■■■ ■ - = 4.882, beats per se-
3600 1
cond.
Iii a fourth, 56 X51 X50X13 X 2 = 3712800, dou¬
ble the product of the wheels, and 6 X6x6 = 216, the
product of the pinions, consequently
3712800
216
gives
17188 beats in an hour, which, divided by 3600, gives
4.7746 for the beats per second.
It remains now to adduce an example or two of the
mode of applying the beats of a watch to philosophical
purposes.
For one example let us suppose with Dr Herschel,
that the annual parallax of the fixed stars may be ascer¬
tained by observing how the angle between two stars,
very near to each other, varies in opposite parts of the
year. For the purpose of determining an angle of this
kind, where an accurate micrometer is wanting, let a
telescope that has cross wires be directed to the stars
when passing the meridian, in such a manner that the
upright wire may be perpendicular to the horizon, and
let it remain unmoved as soon as the former of the two
stars is just coming into the field of view ; then fixing
the eye to the telescope and the watch to the ear, re¬
peat the word one along with every beat of the watch
before the star is arrived at the perpendicular hair, until
it is in conjunction with it, from wdnch beat go on twoy
three. Jour, &c. putting down a finger of either hand
at every twenty till the second star is seen in the same
situation that the leading one occupied at the com¬
mencement of the counting; then, these beats divided
by the beats per second, marked on the watch-paper,
will give the exact number of uncorrected seconds, by
which the following star passes later over the meridian
than the leading one. When these seconds and parts
of a second are ascertained, we have the following ana¬
logy for determining the angle, which includes also the
correction, namely,—as 23h 56' 4", 098 (the length of
a sidereal rotation of the earth), plus or minus the daily
error in the rate of going, are to 360° ; so is the num¬
ber of observed seconds of time, to the quantity of the
horizontal angle required. The wratch is here supposed
to be regulated to show solar time ; but if it should be
regulated exactly for sidereal time, instead of 23h 56'
4" 098, we must use exactly 24 hours in the analogy.
As a second instance, let it be required to ascertain
the distance of the nearer of two electrified clouds from
an observer when there are successive peals of thunder
to be heard : a little time before the expected repetition
of a flash of lightning place the watch at the ear, and
commence the numbering of the beats at the instant
the flash is seen, as before directed, and take care to
cease with the beginning of the report. Then the beats
converted into seconds, w ith the proportional part of the
daily error added or subtracted, will give the difference
of time taken up by the motion of the light and sound.
If, lastly, we suppose light to be instantaneous at small
distances, the distance of the nearer cloud will be had
by multiplying the distance that sound is known to pass
through in a second by the number of observed seconds
obtained from the beats that were counted.
Many
AMUSEMENTS
H ianic Many more instances might be pointed out, in which
* rea* the beats of a good watch would be extremely service-
^ able in the practical branches of philosophy ; but the
U occurrence of such instances will always point- out the
propriety of the application, when it is once known and
practised.
We shall therefore mention only one further advan¬
tage which seems peculiar to this mode of counting a
limited number of seconds by a watch, namely, that it
is free from any error which might arise from the gra¬
duations of a dial-plate, or unequal divisions in the teeth
of wheels and pinions, where the seconds are counted
by a hand.
In order to introduce this method of measuring small
portions of time accurately, it is desirable that a watch
be constructed so as to make an exact number of beats
per second without a fraction, for then the reduction of
beats into seconds would be more readily made. With
the view of promoting this object, Mr William Pearson
has calculated numbers for a watch, which will produce
the desired effect, and which, as they are equally prac¬
ticable with those in use, we shall here insert. By the
method of arrangement already given, the numbers pro¬
per for such a watch, as will indicate hours, minutes,
and seconds, by three hands, and also make just four
beats per second, will stand thus, viz.
50 great wheel
10—60 centre wheel
8—64? third wheel
8—48 contrate wheel
6—15 crown wheel
2 palats.
Dial work as usual.
Six spirals on the fusee—to go 30 hours.
By the preceding general rule for ascertaining the
beats per second in any watch, the calculation of these
numbers will bethus: 60 X 64 X 48 X15 X 2=5529600,
5 <5^9600
and 8x8X6 = 384 ; then —— = 14400 the beats
4 exactly, for the beats per
in an hour, and
14400
3600
second ; which agreement with the rule is a proof of
the accuracy of the numbers.
Before we conclude this subject, we may caution me¬
dical gentlemen against an imposition which is practised
by some watchmakers in the sale of watches with second
hands. It is no uncommon thing with some of these
workmen to put a second hand with a stop and an ap¬
propriate face to a watch, the wheel work of which is
not calculated for indicating seconds. The second
watch, the numbers of which are set down a little
above, was of this kind. In this watch that part of the
train which lay between the axle of the centre wheel
and that of the contrate wheel on which the hands are
. , . 60 60
placed, viz. -5- X-^-
O O
= to only 56.25, instead of 60, so
ch
4b
that 3f seconds are deficient in every minute, a defi¬
ciency which in 16 minutes is equal to a whole revolu-
jy;. tion of the second hand. *
Tow. For the purpose of bringing to our assistance the sense
ol.iii. of feeling, in teaching the use of the mechanic powers,
16 Mr Edgeworth has constructed thefollowingapparatus,
i’spa- t0 which he gives the name of panorganon.
mon, It is composed of two principal parts, a frame for
3
OF SCIENCE. . 56S
containing the moving machinery, and a capstan or Mechanic
windlass erected on a sill or plank that is sunk a few
inches into the ground. By these means, and by braces, .^ ‘ /
or props, the frame is rendered steady. The cross rail
or transom is strengthened by braces, and a king-post to
make it lighter and cheaper. The capstan consists of
an upright shaft, on which are fixed two drums (about
either of which a rope may be wound), and two arms
or levers, by which the capstan may be turned round.
There is also an iron screw fixed round the lower part
of the shaft, to show the properties of the screw as a me¬
chanic power. The rope which goes round the drum,
passes over one of the pulleys near the top of the frame,
and below another pulley near the bottom. As two
drums of different sizes are employed, it is necessary to
have an upright roller, for conducting the rope to the
pulleys in a proper direction, when either of the drums
is used. Near the frame, and in the direction in which
the rope runs, is made a platform or road of deal boards,
one board in breadth and 20 or 30 feefHong, on which
a small sledge loaded with different\*nzl)^hts may be
drawn.
Fig. 53. represents the principal parts of this appa-Fig. S7.'>
ratus. FF, the frame; b, b, braces to keep the frame
steady: a, a, a, angular braces, and a kingpost to
strengthen the transom; S,a round taper shaft, strength¬
ened above and below the mortises, through which
the levers pass, with iron hoops; L d, two arms or le¬
vers by which the shaft, &c. are to be moved round;
DD, the drums, which are of different circumferen¬
ces ; R, the roller to conduct the rope; P, the pulley,
round which the rope passes to the larger drum ; P 2,
another pulley to answer to the smaller drum; P 3,
a pulley through which the rope passes when experi¬
ments are made with levers, &c.; P 4, another pulley
through which the rope passes when the sledge is
used ; R 0, the road of deal boards for the sledge to
move on; S /, the sledge with pieces of hard wood at¬
tached to it to guide it on the road.
As this machine is to be moved by the force of men Uses of the
or children, and as this force varies, not only with the panorga-
strength and weights of each individual, but also accord- notu
ing to the different manner in which that strength or
weight is applied, we must in the first place establish
one determinate mode of applying human force to the
machine, as well as a method of determining the rela¬
tive force of each individual, whose strength is employ¬
ed in setting it in motion.
1. To estimate the force iuith •which a person can draw
horizontally by a rope over his shoidder.
Hang a common long scale-beam (without scales or 4ti
chains) from the top or transom of the frame, so that
one end of it may come within an inch of one side or
post of the machine. Tie a rope to the hook of the
scale-beam, where the chains of the scale are usually
hung, and pass it through the pulley P 3, which is
about four feet from the ground; let the person pull
this rope from 1 towards 2, turning his back to the
machine, and pulling the rope over his shoulder (fig.
58.) As the pulley may be either too high or too Fig- 5S„
low to permit the rope to be horizontal, the person who
pulls it should be placed 10 or 15 feet from the ma¬
chine, which will lessen the angular direction of the
cord, and thus diminish the inaccuracy of the experi-
4 B 2 ment.
*C4
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE
Mechanic meat. Hang weights te the other end of the scaie-
tion-T" beam> l^e Person who pulls can but just walk for-
s, - - y - L- ward, pulling fairly without knocking his feet against
any thing. This, weight will estimate the force with
which the person can draw horizontally by a rope over
his shoulder.
Let a child who tries this, walk on the board with
dry shoes ; let him afterwards chalk his shoes, and then
try it with his shoes soaped. He will find that he can
pull with different degrees of force in these different
circumstances. When he makes the following experi¬
ments, however, let his shoes be always dry, that he
may always exert the same degree of force.
49 2. To shew theforce of the three different hind's f Levers.
Fig.54,55. The lever L (fig. 54*.) is passed through a socket
(fig. 55.) in which it can be shifted from one of its ends
towards the other, so that it may be fastened.at any
place by the screw of the socket. This socket has two
gudgeons, una^gfrhich both the socket and the lever
which it cojdKMp?an turn. The socket and its gud¬
geons can OTS^rcd out of the hole in which it plays
between the rails RR (fig. 54-.), and may be put into
other holes at RR, (fig. 57-).
Hook the cord that comes over the person’s shoulder
to the end I, of the lever L. Loop another rope to
the other end of this lever, and let the person pull as
before. Perhaps it should be pointed out that the per¬
son must walk in a direction contrary to that in which
he walked before, viz. from 1 towards 3 (fig. 53.).
The height to which the weight ascends, and the di?
stance to which the person advances, should be carefuL
ly marked and measured; and it will be found, that
he can raise the weight to the same height, advancing
through the same space as in the former experiment.
In this case, as both ends of the lever moved through
equal spaces, the lever only changed the direction of
the motion, and added no mechanical power to the
direct strength of the person.
3. Shift the lever to its extremity in the sochet ; the
middle of the lever will now be opposite to the pulley
Fig. 56. (fig. 56.) ; hook to it the rope that goes through the
pulley P 3, and fasten to the other end of the lever the
rope by which the person is to pull. This will be a
lever of the second kind, as it is called in books of me¬
chanics ; in using which, the resistance is placed between
the centre f motion or fulcrum and the moving power.
He will now raise double the weight that he did in ex¬
periment 2. and he will advance through double the
space.
4. Shift the lever, and the socket which forms the
axis, (without shifting the lever from the place in which
it was in the socket in the last experiment) to the holes
Bg.,57. that are prepared for it at RR, (fig. 57.). The free
end of the lever E will now be opposite to the rope,
and to the pulley (over which the rope comes from the
scale beam). Hook this rope to it, and hook the rope
by which the person pulls to the middle of the lever.
The effect will now be different from what it was in the
last two experiments ; the person will advance only
half as far, and will raise only half as much weight as
before. This is called a lever of the third hind.
The experiments upon levers may be varied at plea¬
sure, increasing or diminishing the mechanical advan¬
tage, so as to balance the power and the resistance, to
accustom the learners to calculate the relation between Meehan*
the power and the effect in different circumstances, al- Recrea.
ways pointing out that whatever excess there is in the tiyns'l
power, or in the resistance, is always compensated
by the difference of space through which the power
passes.
The experiments which we have mentioned are suf¬
ficiently satisfactory to a pupil, as to the immediate re¬
lation between the power and the resistance; but the
different spaces through which thepower and the resist¬
ance move when one exceeds the other, cannot he ob¬
vious, unless they pass through much larger spaces than
levers will permit.
5. To show the different space through which the power ^
and resistance move in different circumstances.
Place the sledge on the farthest end of the wooden
road (fig. 53.) : fasten a rope to the sledge, and con-Fig.55.
duct it through the lowest pulley P 4, and through the
pulley P 3, so that the person may be enabled to draw
it by therope passed over his shoulder. The sledge must
now be loaded, till the person can but just advance with
short steps steadily upon the wooden road; this must be
done with care, as there will be but just room for him
beside the rope. He will meet the sledge exactly on
the middle of the road, from which he must step aside
to pass the sledge. Let the time of this experiment be
noted. It is obvious that the person and the sledge
move with equal velocity, there is therefore no me¬
chanical advantage obtained by the pulleys. The
weight that he can draw will be about half a hundred,
if the weight be about nine stones; but the exact force
with which the person draws is to be known by experi¬
ment 1. 5i
6. To the largest drum (fig. 53.) fasten a cord, andWheelan
pass it through the pulley P downwards, and thenaxle-
through the pulley P 4, to the sledge placed at the end
of the wooden road which is farthest from the machine.
Let the person, by a rope fastened to the extremity of
one of the arms of the capstan, and passed over his
shoulder, draw the capstan round; he will wind the
rope round the drum, and draw the sledge upon the
road. To make the sledge advance 24 feet upon its
road, the person must have walked circularly 144 feet
which is six times as far, and he will be able to draw
about three hundred weight, which is six times as
much as in the last experiment.
It may now be pointed out, that the difference of
space, passed through by the power in this experiment,
is exactly equal to the difference of weight which the
person could draw without the capstan.
7. Let the rope be now attached to the smaller
drum ; the person will draw nearly twice as much
weight upon the sledge as before; and will go through
double the space.
8. Where there is a number of persons, left five or six
of them, whose power of drawing (estimated as in ex¬
periment 1.) amounts to six times as much as the force
of the person at the capstan, pull at the end of the rope
which was fastened to the sledge; they will balance the
force of the person at the capstan: either they or he, by
a sudden pull may advance, but if they pull fairly, there
will be no advantage on either side. In this experi¬
ment the rope should pass through the pulley P 3, and
should be coiled round the larger drum. And it must
also
AMUSEMENTS
M< in’c also bo observed, that in all experiments upon the
E eap motion of bodies, on which there is much friction, as
, where a sledge is employed, the results are jiever so
uniform as under other circumsances.
jhe illey. 9. Upon the pulley we shall say little, as it is in
every body’s hands, and experiments may be tried upon
it without any particular apparatus. It should, how¬
ever, be distinctly inculcated, that the power is not
increased by a fixed pulleys. For this purpose, a wheel
without a rim, or, to speak with more propriety, a
number of spokes fixed in a nave, should be employed,
(fig. 61.). Pieces like the heads of crutches should be
fixed at the ends of these spokes, to receive a piece
of girthweb, which is used instead of a cord, because
a cord would be unsteady ; and a strap of iron with a
hook to it should play upon the centre, by which it
may sometimes be suspended, and from which at other
times a weight may be hung.
Let this skeleton of a pulley be hung by the iron
strap from the transom of the frame ; fasten a piece of
web to one of the radii, and another to the end of the
opposite radius. If two persons of equal weight pull
these pieces of girthweb, they will balance each other;
or two equal weights hung to these webs, will be in
equilibrio. If a piece of girthweb be put round the
aftermost radius, two equal weights hung at the ends
of it will remain immoveable ; but if either of them be
pulled, or if a small additional weight be added to
either, it will descend, and the web will apply itself
successively to the ascending radii, and will detach it¬
self .from those which are descending. If this move¬
ment be carefully considered, it will be perceived that
the web, in unfolding itself, acts in the same manner up¬
on the radii, as two ropes would, if they were hung to
the extremities of the opposite radii in succession. The
two radii which are opposite, may be considered as a
lever of the first kind, when the centre is in the middle
of the lever: as each end moves through an equal space,
there is no mechanical advantage. But if this skele¬
ton-pulley be employed as a common block or tackle,
its motions and properties will be entirely different.
10. Nail a piece of girthweb to a post, at the dis¬
tance of three or four feet from the ground ; fasten the
fig :. other end of it to one of the radii (see fig. 61.). Fasten
another piece of web to the opposite radius, and let a
person hold the skeleton-pulley suspended from the web;
hook weights to the strap that hangs from the centre.
The end of the radius to which the fixed girthweb is
fastened will remain immoveable ; bu if the person pulls
the web which he holds in his hand upwards, he will be
able to lift nearly double the weight which he can raise
from the ground by a simple rope without the machine,
and he will perceive that his hand moves through twice
as great a space as the weight descends: he has therefore
the mechanical advantage, which he would have by a
lever of the second kind. Let a piece of w'eb be put
round the under radii, let one end of it be nailed to the
post, and the other be held by the person, and it will
represent the application of a rope to a moveable pulley;
if its motion be carefully considered, it wall appear that
the radii, as they successively apply themselves to the
web, represent a series of levers of the second kind.
Upon the wooden road lay down a piece of girth¬
web ; nail one end of it to the road; place the pulley
upon the wreb at the other end of the board ; and bring-
OF SCIENCE. 565
ing the web over the radii, let the person taking hold Mechanic
of it, draw the loaded sledge fastened to the hook at %crca*
the centre of the pulley; he wall draw nearly twice as ,
much in this manner as he could w ithout the pulley.
Here the web lying in the road shows more distinct¬
ly, that it is quiescent where the lowest radius touches
it; and if the radii, as they tread upon it, are observed,
their points will appear at rest, while the centre of the
pulley will proceed as fast as the sledge, and the top of
each radius successively will move twice as far as the
centre of the pulley and the edge.
If a person holding a stick in his hand, observes the
relative motions of the top and the middle, and the
bottom of the stick, whilst he inclines it, he will see
that the bottom of the stick has only half the motion
of the top. This property of the pulley has been con¬
sidered more at large, because it elucidates the motion
of a wheel rolling upon the ground ; and it explains a
common paradox, which appears at first inexplicable,
the bottom of a rolling wheel nevem tliQyes upon the
road. This is asserted only of a w %1 jfcoving over
hard ground, which, in fact, may be c^^rered rather
as laying down its circumference upon the road, than
as moving upon it.
11. The inclined Plane and the Wcd^e.
The inclined plane is to be next considered. When S3
a heavy body is to be raised, it is often convenient to
lay a sloping artificial road of planks, upon which it
may be pushed or drawn. This mechanical power,
however, is but of little service without the assistance
of wheels or rollers ; we shall therefore speak of it as it
is applied in another manner, under the name of the
‘wedge, which is in fact a moving inclined plane ; but
if it be required to explain the properties of the inclin¬
ed plane by the panorganon, the wooden road may be
raised and set to any inclination required, and the sledge
may be drawn upon it as in the former experiments.
Let one end of a lever, N (fig. 59.), with a wheel at Fig 59. -
one end of it, be hinged to the post of the frame, by
means of a gudgeon driven or screwed into the post.
To prevent this lever from deviating sideways, let a slip
of wood be connected with it by a rail, which shall be
part in the lever, but which may move freely in a hole
in the rail. The other end of this slip must be fastened
to a stake driven into the ground at three or four feet
from the lever, at one side of it, and towards the end
in which the wheel is fixed (fig. 62.), in the same man¬
ner as the treadle of a common lathe is managed, and
as the treadle of a loom is sometimes guided.
12. Under the wheel of this lever place an inclined
plane (fig. 59.) on the wooden road, with rollers under
it, to prevent friction ; fasten a rope to the foremost end
of the wedge, and pass it through the pulleys (P 4 and
P 3), as in the fifth experiment; let a person draw the
sledge by this rope over his shoulder, and he will find,
that as it advances it will raise the weight upwards; the
wedge is five feet long, and elevated one foot. Now, it
the perpendicular ascent of the weight, and the space
through which he advances, be compared, he will find
that the space through which he has passed will be five
times as great as that through which the weight has
ascended ; and that this wedge has enabled him to raise
five times as much as he could raise without it, if his
strength were applied as in experiment 1, without any
mechanical
566
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE.
mechanical advantage. By making this wedge in 'two
parts hinged together, with a graduated piece to keep
them asunder, the wedge may be adjusted to any given
obliquity ; and it will always be found, that the mecha¬
nical advantage of the wedge may be ascertained by
comparing its perpendicular elevation with its base.
If the base of the wedge be 2, 3, 4, 5, or any other
number of times greater than its height, it will enable
the person to raise respectively 2, 3, 4, or 5 times
more weight than he could do in experiment 1. by
which his power is estimated.
54 13. The Screw.
The screw is an inclined plane wound round a cylin¬
der : the height of all its revolutions round the cylinder
taken together, compared with the space through which
the power that it turns passes, is the measure of its me¬
chanical advantage. Let the lever used in the last expe¬
riment be turja^in such a manner as to reach from its
gudgeon tofthe^haft of the Panorganon, guided by an
Fig. 60. attendant fet-er as before (fig. 60.). Let the wheel
rest upon the lowest helix or thread of the screw; as the
arms of the shaft are turned round, the wheel will ascend,
and carry up the weight which is fastened to the lever.
As the situation of the screw prevents the weight from
being suspended exactly from the centre of the screw,
proper allowance must be made for this in estimating
the force of the screw, or determining the mechanical
advantage gained by the lever. This can be done by
measuring the perpendicular ascent of the wreight,
which in all cases is useful, and more expeditious, than
measuring the parts of a machine, and estimating its
force by calculation ; because the different diameters
of ropes, and other small circumstances, are frequent¬
ly mistaken in estimates—both methods should be em¬
ployed and their results compared. The space passed
through by the moving power, and by that which it
moves, are infallible data for estimating the powers of
engines.
Two very material subjects of experiment yet re¬
main for the Panorganon ; friction, and wheels of car¬
riages ; but perhaps we may be thought to have ex¬
tended this section beyond its just proportion to the
rest of the article, in which it is not intended to write
a treatise upon science, but to point out methods of
initiating young people in the rudiments of knowledge,
and of giving them a distinct view of those principles
on w'hich they are founded. No preceptor who has
had experience will cavil at the superficial knowledge
of a boy of 12 or 13 upon these subjects ; he will per¬
ceive that the general view which wre wish to give,
must tend to form a taste for literature and investiga¬
tion. The sciolist has learned only to talk—we wish
to teach our pupils to think upon the various objects
connected with the present article.
The Panorganon may be employed in ascertaining
the resistance of air and water ; the force of different
muscles ; and in a great variety of amusing and useful
^ experiments. In academies and private families, it
■worth** may ke erected in the place allotted for amusement,
Practical where it will furnish entertainment for many a vacant
Education, hour. When it has lost its novelty, the shaft may
vol.ii.chap.from tjme t0 time jjg taken down, and a swing may be
xvii* suspended in its place. *
Mechanic
Recrea¬
tions.
SECT. XII. Recreations and Contrivances re- ;
luting to Optics. tio? 1
In the articles Catoptrics, Dioptrics, Micro-
scope and Perspective, we have described a variety Optical
of optical recreations, viz. under Catoptrics, Sec. III. emtioos
catoptricae illusions ; the appearance ofa/>OMHc//es,s
vista; a fortification apparently of immense extent; a
surprising multiplication of objects ; the optical para¬
dox, by which opaque bodies are seemingly rendered
transparent; the magician's mirror ; the perspective mir¬
ror ; the action of concave mirrors in inflaming com¬
bustible bodies, and the real apparition. Under Diop¬
trics, page 244 of Vol. VII. optical illusions ; the opti¬
cal augmentation, optical subtraction ; the alternate illu¬
sion ; the dioptrical paradox; the camera obscura ; the
method of showing the spots on the sun's disk, and mag¬
nifying small objects by means of the sun’s rays; the dia¬
gonal opera glass; the construction and uses of the ma¬
gic lantern; the nebulous magic lantern ; method of pro¬
ducing the appearance of aphantom on a pedestal placed
on the middle of a table; and the magic theatre. Un¬
der Microscope, besides fully explaining the construc¬
tion of the several kinds of microscopes, and explaining
their uses, we have given an account of a great variety
of objects which are seen distinctly only by means of
these instruments; such as the microscopic animalcula ;
the minute parts of insects ; the structure of vegetables,
&c.; and under Perspective, we have described and
explained the anamorphosis, an instrument for drawing
in perspective mechanically, and the camera lucida of Dr
Wollaston. Under Optics, Part III. Chap. 1. we
have explained the construction of the principal optical
instruments, as multiplying glasses, mirrors, improve¬
ments on the camera obscura, by Dr Brewster and Mr
Thomson ; microscopes, telescopes, and various kinds of
apparatus for measuring the intensity of light. Under
Pyrotechny, N° 150, we have shown how artificial
firewmrks may be imitated by certain optical deceptions.
At present we shall only describe one or two addi¬
tional optical recreations, and explain the nature of the
optical deception called Phantasmagoria.
Experiment to show the Blue Colour of Shadows formed
in Day-Light.
Darken a room in daylight, or towards twilight, so
that only a small proportion of light may enter by the
shutter. Then holding a lighted candle near the open¬
ing of the shutter, cast the shadow of an object, such as
a small ruler, on a white paper. There will in general
be seen two shadows, the one blue, and the other orange;
the former of which resembles the blue colour of the
sky in clear sunshine, and is of a greater or less intensity
according as the object is brought nearer to a focus.
For explanations of the blue colour of the sky, see
Optics, Part II. Sect 4.
The Air-drawn Dagger.
56
An improved variety of the experiments described un- The ah.
der Catoptrics, N° 14. by the name of the real appa-dra"'n 1
rition, is thus described by Montucla. Fig. 62. repre-
sents a different position of the mirror and partition
from that described under Catoptrics, and one better
adapted
AMUSEMENTS OF SCIENCE. 567
C ca\ adapted for exhibiting the fact by various objects.
R ea' ABC is a thin partition of a room down to the floor,
* with an aperture for a good convex lens, turned out¬
wards into the room nearly in a horizontal direction,
proper for viewing by the eye of a person standing up¬
right from the floor, or on a stool. D is a large con¬
cave mirror, supported at a proper angle, to reflect up¬
wards through the glass in the partition B, images of
objects at E, presented towards the mirror below. A
strong light from a lamp, &c. being directed on the ob¬
ject E, and nowhere else; then to the e3Te of a specta¬
tor at F, in a darkened room, it is truly surprising and
admirable to what effect the images are reflected up
into the air at G.
Exhibitions of the appearances of spectres have some¬
times been formed on the principles of this experiment;
but the most striking deception of this kind is the phan¬
tasmagoria, which some winters ago formed one of the
principal public amusements at Paris and London.
Phs is- Xhis exhibition was contrived by Mr Philipsthal, and
^ a' was conducted in a small theatre, all the lights of which
were removed, except one hanging lamp, and this could
be drawn up, so that its flame was perfectly enveloped
in a cylindrical chimney, or opaque shade. In this
gloomy and wavering light the curtain was drawn up,
and presented to the spectators a sort of cave, with ske¬
letons a*d other figures of terror, painted or moulded
in relievo on the sides or walls. After a short interval
the lamp was drawn up into its chimney, and the spec¬
tators were in total darkness, interrupted only by flashes
of lightning succeeded by peals of thunder. These phe¬
nomena were followed by the appearance of figures of
departed men, ghosts, skeletons, transmutations, &c.
Several figures of celebrated men were thus exhibited
with various transformations, such as the head of Dr
Franklin, suddenly converted into a skull, &c. These
were succeeded by phantoms, skeletons, and various
terrific figures, which were sometimes seen to contract
gradually in all their dimensions, till they became ex¬
tremely small, and then vanished ; while at others, in¬
stead of seeming to recede and then vanish, they were,
to the surprise and astonisment of the spectators, made
suddenly to advance, and then disappear, by seeming
ol. to sink into the ground.*
/<m ;vo. The principal part of these phenomena was produced
0 148, by a modification of the magic lantern, having- all its
parts on a large scale, and placed on that side of a semi¬
transparent screen of taffeta which was opposite to the
spectators, instead of the same side, as in the ordinary
exhibitions of the magic lantern. To favour the decep¬
tion, the sliders were made perfectly opaque, except in
those places that contained the figures to be exhibited,
and in these light parts the glass was covered with a
more or less transparent tint, according to the effect
required. The figures for these purposes have also been
drawn with water colours on thin paper, and afterwards
varnished. To imitate the natural motions of the ob¬
jects represented, several pieces of glass placed behind
each other were occasionally employed. By removing
the lantern to different distances, and at the same time
altering more or less the position of the lens, the images
were made to increase or diminish, and to become more
or less distinct at the pleasure of the exhibiter; so that,
to a person unaccustomed to the effect of optical instru¬
ments, the figures appeared actually to advance and re¬
tire. In reality, however, figures exhibited in this way
become much brighter as they are rendered smaller,
while in nature the imperfect transparency of the air ,
causes objects to appear fainter when they are remote,
than when they are nearer the observer. Sometimes, by
throwing a strong light on an object really opaque, or
on a living person, its image was formed on the curtain,
retaining its natural motions; but in this case the object
must havebeen at a considerable distance, otherwise the
images of its nearer and remoter parts could never be
sufficiently distinct at once, as the refraction must either
be too great for the remoter, or too small for the nearer
parts; and there must also be a second lens placed at
a sufficient distance from the first, to allow the forma¬
tion of an inverted image between them, and to throw
a second picture of this image on the screen in its na¬
tural erect position, unless the object be of such a na¬
ture that it can be inverted without inconvenience *. * Young's
Dr Thomas Young proposes the following apparatus on ^
foran exhibition similar to the phantasm^oria. The light/
of the lamp A (fig. 63.) is to be thrownVy mirror B
and the lenses C and D on the painted slider at E, and FlS- 63“
the magnifier F forms the image of the screen at G.
This lens is fixed to a slider, which may be drawn out
of the general support or box H; and when the box is
drawn back on its wheels, the rod IK lowers the point
K, and by means of the rod KL adjusts the slider in
such a manner, that the image is always distinctly paint¬
ed on the screen G. When the box advances towards
the screen, in order that the images may be diminished
and appear to vanish, the support of the lens F suffers
the screen M to fall and intercept a part of the light.
The rod KN must be equal to IK, and the point I must
be twice the focal length of the lens F, before the ob¬
ject, L being immediately under the focus of the lens.
The screen M may have a triangular opening, so as to
uncover the middle of the lens only, or the light may ^
be intercepted in any other manner, j- pi. xxviiu
Mr Ezekiel Walker has lately constructed a new [57]
optical instrument, calculated for affording entertain- ^alljcr s
ment to those who derive pleasure from optical illu- SCope> S
sions. This instrument is called phantasmascope, and is
so contrived, that aperson standingbefore it sees a door
opened, and aphantom make its appearance, coming to-
wardshim,and increasing in magnitude as itapproaches,
like those in the phantasmagoria. When it has advan¬
ced about 3 feet, it appears of the greatest magnitude,
and as it retires, becomes gradually contracted in its
dimensions, till it re-enters the machine, when it to¬
tally vanishes. This phantom appears in the air like
a beautiful painting, and has such a rich brilliancy of
colouring, as to render it unnecessary to darken the
room. On the contrary, this aerial picture is seen with
rather greater perfection when the room is illuminated.
Fig. 6L represents a section of this machine, and will Fig. 64*.
explain the principles of its construction.
ABCD, a wooden box, 36 inches by 21, and 22
deep. EF, a concave mirror, 15 inches diameter, pla¬
ced near the end BD. AC, the other end, is divided
into two parts at m by a horizontal bar, of which m
is a section. A m, a door that opens to the left hand.
« o a board with a circular opening, 10 inches diameter,
covered with plate glass in that side next the mirror.
GHI a drawer, opened at the end I, and covered at
the top G m with tin plate. It is represented in the fi¬
gure
56$
Optical
Recrea¬
tions.
AMUSEMENTS
gure as drawn out 16 inches, aba moveable stage, 15
inches by 6, which slides freely upon the bottom of the
drawer by means of a strong brass rod c a. d x a parti-
-tion fixed to the stage a b, which is 15 inches long, and
‘ Teaches nearly to the top of the drawer, x a circular
•aperture, 3 or 4 inches in diameter, made near the bot¬
tom of the partition, and at equal distances from each
end of it. 2:rt,ascreen,7iincheshighby4^,covered with
white paper on that side next the mirror. This screen
prevents any light, reflected from the end of the drawer,
from passing through the aperture x. n p, part of the
-cover, fixed as represented in the figure, to prevent the
inside of the machine from being seen by the observer.
When this machine is used, take a painting on glass in
trasparent colours; place it against the aperture x in the
partition on that side the mirror, and two short candles
•on the other side, between za and dx. The glass must be
perfectly opaque, except that part upon which the figure
is painted; then the light which is transmitted through
the painting a%l falls upon the mirror, is reflected into
the air wl*re the phantom is formed ; but the phantom
is much mWe beautiful than the painting, as the co-
Jouring receives a particular delicacy from the glasses.
When the painting is in the place represented in the
figure, the phantom appears without the machine at y ;
but if the stage be drawn out to the end of the drawer
GH, the phantom will appear within the machine at
r, and very small. A very pleasing effect is also pro¬
duced from a small painting on paper, or a coloured
print put into the place of the painting on glass, with
candles on the other side, near b.
Mr Walker has shown how this instrument may be
employed to exhibit several phenomena in the heavens;
as, for example, the appearance of Jupiter and his
satellites, and the colour of Mars and the moon.
To represent Jupiter and his satellites as they appear
through a common telescope, take a piece of paper
stained very black, about 3 inches square, near the
middle of which cut a hole pei’fectly circular, to re¬
present the planet, and 4 small holes, in a line with
the centre of the large one, for the satellites ; but these
must be cut out with a small punch, as it is difficult to
make a circular hole with a sharp pointed instrument.
After this paper has been pasted on a piece of glass,
rough-ground on one side, draw 3 or 4 lines across the
planet with a black lead pencil to imitate the belts.
From this simple contrivance the machine produces a
very beautiful effect. The new moon represented in
this way is a sti-iking resemblance of the real object in
the heavens : comets and fixed stars may also be re¬
presented by the same method.
The colour of Mars and of the moon, at rising or
setting, may be imitated by covering the screen z a
with paper stained red, which will reflect a ruddy tint
upon the object placed at x ; and this tint may be in-
*^hlL , creased or decreased by only altering the situations of
S;£‘; the candles. *
58
Pneumatic SECT. XIII. Recreations and Contrivances relating
reCreati0nS- to PNEUMATICS.
In our treatise on Pneumatics, we have related
several entertaining experiments, illustrating the prin¬
ciples of that science, such as experiments proving the
fluidity of. the air in N° 52 ; that of Herd’s fountain
4
OF SCIENCE.
in N° 54; experiments illustrating the application ofPneumat
hydrostatics to air, N°57, et seq. ; a great variety of
experiments with the air pimp, N° 160; the experi- ^
ment of the syphon fountain, N° 178 ; and experiments
on the compressibility and expansibility of the air, N°
196, &c. We have also, in that article, explained the
construction and operation of the principal pneumati-
cal engines, such as syringes, syphons, air-pumps, bel¬
lows, &c. The construction and uses of barometers
have been explained under Barometer, and under
Hydrodynamics, N° 72. Those of thermometers un¬
der Chemistry from N° 194. to 203 ; and those of
common pumps under the article Pump. $
As the account of the air-gun, referred to Pneuma- Air-gun,
tics, has been omitted in that article, we must here
describe the construction and action of that ingenious
instrument.
The common air-gun is made of brass, and has two
barrels; the inside barrel A, fig. 65. which is of a Fig. 63,
small bore, from whence the bullets are exploded; and
a larger barrel ECDR on the outside of it. There is
a syringe SMNP fixed in the butt of the gun, by which
the air is injected into the cavity between the two bar¬
rels through the valve EP. The ball K is put down
into its place in the small barrel, with the rammer, as
in any other gun. At SL is another valve, which be¬
ing opened by the trigger O, permits the air to come
behind the bullet, so as to drive it out with great force.
If this valve be opened and shut suddenly, one charge
of condensed air may be sufficient for several dischar¬
ges of bullets ; but if the whole air be discharged on
a single bullet, it will drive it out with a greater force.
The discharge is effected by means of a lock, placed
here as in other guns : for the trigger being pulled,
the cock will go down and drive the lever O, fig. 65.
which will open the valve, and let in the air upon the
bullet K.
The air-gun has received very great improvements
in its construction. Fig. 66. is a representation of one Fig. 66.
now made by several instrument-makers in the metro¬
polis. For simplicity and perfection it exceeds any
hitherto contrived. A is the gun-barrel, with the
lock, stock, rammer, and of the size and weight of
a common fowling piece. Under the lock, at b, is a
steel tube having a small moveable pin in the inside,
which is pushed out when the trigger a is pulled, by
the spring-work within the lock ; to this tube b, is
screwed a hollow copper ball c, so as to be perfectly
air tight. This copper ball is fully charged with con¬
densed air by the syringe B, fig. 67. previous to its Fig. 67.
being applied to the tube b of fig. 66. It is evident,
that if a bullet be rammed down in the barrel, the
copper ball screwed fast at b, and the trigger a be pul¬
led, that the pin in b will, by the action of the spring-
work within the lock, forcibly strike out into the cop¬
per ball; and thereby pushing in suddenly a valve with¬
in the copper ball, let out a portion of the condensed
air, which will rush up through the aperture of the
lock, and forcibly act against the bullet, driving it to
the distance of 60 or 70 yards, or farther. If the air
be strongly condensed, at every discharge, only a
portion of it escapes from the ball; therefore by re¬
cocking the piece, another discharge may be made ;
and this repeated 15 or 16 times.
The air in the copper ball is condensed by means o
ir the
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AMUSEMENTS
amiuu-the syringe 13 (fig. 67.), in the following manner.
Cil1 The ball c is screwed quite close in the top of the sy-
lion?" rinSe at' at t,ie en(* ^ie stee^ pointed rod ; « is a
, stout ring through which passes the rod k : upon this
rod the feet are commonly placed, then the hands are
to be applied to the two handles ii, fixed on the side of
the barrel of the syringe. Now by moving the barrel
B steadily up and down on the rod a, the ball-c will
become charged with condensed air ; and it may be
easily known when the ball is as full as possible, by the
irresistible action which the air makes against the piston
while working the syringe. At the end of the rod k
is usually a square hole, which with the rod serves as a
key to make the ball c fast on the screw b of the gun
and syringe close to the orifice in the ball c. In the
inside is fixed a valve and spring, which gives way for
the admission of air; but upon its emission comes close
up to the orifice, shutting up the internal air. The
piston rod works air-tight, by a collar of leather on it on
the barrel B; it is therefore plain, that when the barrel
is drawn up, the air will rush in at the hole b. When
the barrel is pushed down, the air contained in it will
have no other way to pass, from the pressure of the piston,
but into the ball c at top. The barrel being drawn up,
the operation is repeated, until the condensation is so
strong as to resist the action of the piston.
The magazine air-gun was invented by that ingenious
artist L. Colbe. By this contrivance 10 bullets are so
lodged in a cavity, near the place of discharge, that
they may be drawn into the shooting barrel, and suc¬
cessively discharged so fast as to be nearly of the same
use as so many different guns.
ig. 68. Fig. 68. represents the present form of this machine,
where part of the stock is cut oft', to the end of the
injecting syringe. It has its valve opening into the ca¬
vity between the barrels as before. KK is the small
shooting barrel, that receives the bullets from the ma¬
gazine ED, which is of a serpentine form, and closed
at the end D when the bullets are lodged in it. The
circular part a be, is the key of a cock, having a cy¬
lindrical hole through it, ilc, which is equal to the bore
of the same barrel, and makes a part of it in the pre¬
sent situation. When the lock is taken off, the several
parts Q, R, T, W, &c. come into view, by which
means the discharge is made by pushing up the pin P^;,
which raises and opens a valve V to let in the air against
the bullet I, from the cavity FF, which valve is im¬
mediately shut down again by means of a long spring
of brass NN. This valve V being a conical piece of
brass, ground very true in the part which receives it,
will of itself be sufficient to confine the air.
To make a discharge, the trigger ZZ is to be pull¬
ed, which throws up the seer y a, and disengages it
from the notch a, on which the strong epring WW
moves the tumbler F, to which the cock is fixed. This,
by its end ii, bears down the end v of the tumbling
lever R, which, by the other end m, raises at the same
time the flat end of the horizontal lever Q; and by
this means, of course, the pin V p, which stands upon
ttj is pushed up, and thus opens the valve V; and dis¬
charges the bullet This is all evident, merely from
the view of the figure.
To bring another bullet to succeed that marked I,
instantaneously turn the cylindric cavity of the key of
the cock, which before made part of the barrel KK,
into the situation i k, so that the part i may be at K;
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
OF SCIENCE. 56!)
and hold the gun upon your shoulder, with the barrel Pncumati-
downwards and the magazine upwards, by which means r f‘n\
that bullet next the cock will fall into it out of the
magazine, but go no further into this cylindric cavity
than the two little springs f s which detain it. The
two circles represent the cock barrel, wherein the key
formerly mentioned turns upon an axis not represented
here, but visible in fig. 69. This axis is a square piece P'g- 69.
of steel, on which comes the square hole of the hammer
H, fig. 70. by which the cylindrical cavity mentioned Fig- 7®.
is opened to the magazine. Then opening the hammgr,
as in that figure, the bullet is brought into its proper
place near the discharge valve, and the cylindric cavity
of the key of the cock again makes a part of the inward
barrel KK.
It appears how expeditious a method this is of charg¬
ing and discharging a gun ; and, were the force of con¬
densed air equal to that of gun-powder, such an air-
gun would answer the purpose of several guns.
In the air-gun, and all other cases where the air is
required to be condensed to a very great degree, it will
be requisite to have the syringe of a small bore, viz.
not exceeding half an inch in diameter, because the
pressure against every square inch is about 15 pounds,
and therefore against every circular inch about 12
pounds. If, therefore, the syringe be one inch in dia¬
meter, when one atmosphere is injected, there will be
a resistance of!2 pounds against the piston ; and when
10 are injected, there will be a force of 120 pounds to
be overcome; whereas 10 atmospheres act against the
circular half-inch piston with only a force equal to 30
pounds; or 40 atmospheres maybe injected with such
a syringe, as well as 10 with the other. In short, the
facility of working will be inversely as the squares of
the diameter of the syringe.
It is not certain when, or by whom the air-gun was
invented. Montucla ascribes the invention to Otto
Guerricke, burgomaster of Magdeburg, so celebrated
about the middle of the 17th century for his pneumatic
and electrical experiments; but it is certain that air-
guns, or wind-guns, as they were sometimes called,
were known long before the time of Guerricke. In the
Elemens d'Artillerie of David Rivant, preceptor to
Louis XIII. of France, this instrument is, we believe,
first noticed in writing; and here the invention is attri¬
buted to one Marin, a burgher of Lisieux, who present¬
ed an air-gun to Henry IV. The air-gun is now con¬
sidered rather as a curious philosophical instrument,
than a useful offensive or defensive weapon ; and its
use in the latter capacity is, we believe, forbidden by
law. _ co
The subject of balloons has been fully discussed un- Easy me-
der the article Aerostation. For the sake of expo thodqfcon-
riment,fire-balloons, or Mongolfiers,of a moderate size,
may be constructed, by pasting together gores of lawn balloons. ”
paper meeting at the top, and having the other extre¬
mities pasted round a light and slender hoop, from which
proceeds several wires terminating in a kind of basket,
capable of supporting a sponge dipped in rectified spirit
of wine. If the gores are properly formed and neatly
joined, the balloon will be so far air-tight, that the ex¬
panded air within it, caused by the inflammation of the
spirit, will inflate the csvity, and enable the balloon to
rise to a considerable height in the atmosphere. It is
obvious that such an experiment can be made only in
calm weather.
4 C
t
SCI [ 570 ] SCI
Sc:;1!a> SCILLA, the Squill ; a genus of plants, belong-
SciIiy* ing to the hexandria class; and in the natural method
ranking under the 10th order, Coronarice. See Botany
and Materia Medica Index.
SCILLY, or Silley, a cluster of small islands and
rocks, situated in the Atlantic ocean, and about 10
leagues W. of the Land’s End in Cornwall, in W.
Long. 7°. N. Lat. 50°.
These islands were first called Cassiterides, or the
Tin Isles, from their being rich in that metal. The
common opinion is, that this is a Greek appellation;
which in the most obvious sense is true r But as the
Phoenicians were familiar with the metal, and with the
country that produced it, before the Greeks knew
any thing of either, it is very likely they introduced
the names of both from their own language. Strabo
says these islands were ten in number, lying close to¬
gether, of which only one was uninhabited: the peo¬
ple led an erratic life, lived upon the produce of their
cattle, wore an under-garment which reached down to
their ankles, and over that another, both of the same-
colour, which was black, girt round a little below the
breast with a girdle, and walked with staves in their
hands. The riches of these islands were tin and lead,
which, with the skins of their cattle, they exchanged
with foreign merchants, that is, the Phoenicians from
Cadiz, for earthen ware, salt, and utensils made of
brass. An author of as great or greater antiquity,
seems to include a part at least of Cornwall amongst
these islands ; or rather he suggests, that they were
not perfect islands except at full sea, but that at ebb
the inhabitants passed from one to another upon the
sands, and that they even transported their tin in large
square blocks upon carriages from one island to another.
He further takes notice, that such as inhabited about
Belerium (the Land’s End) were in their conversation
with strangers remarkably civil and courteous. Other
ancient writers style these islands Hesperides, from their
western situation, and Oestrymnides, asserting that the
land was extremely fertile, as well as full of mines; and
that the people, though ver}' brave, were entirely ad¬
dicted to commerce, and boldly passed the seas in their
leather boats..
The Romans were exceedingly desirous of having a
share in this commerce, which the Phoenicians as care¬
fully laboured to prevent, by concealing their naviga¬
tion to these islands as much as it was in their power.
At length, however, the Romans prevailed; and Publius
Crassus coming thither, was so well pleased with the
industry and manners of the people, that he taught
them various improvements, as well in working their
mines, which till that time were but shallow, as in cai*-
rying their own merchandise todiff'erent markets. There
is no room to doubt that they followed the fate of the
rest of Britain, and particularly of Cornwall, in becom¬
ing subject to the Roman empire. We find them called
in the itinerary of Antoninus, Sigdeles ; by Sulpitius,
Sillence ; and by Solinus they are-termed Silures. All
we know of them during this period is, that their tin
trade continued, and that sometimes state-prisoners
were exiled, or, to use the Roman phrase, relegated
hither as well as to other islands.
When the legions were withdrawn, and Britain with
Its dependencies left in the power of the natives, there
is no reason to question that these islands shared the
l
same lot with the rest. As to the appellation which Scillj’.
from this period prevailed, the ordinary way of writ- u-—\r-
ing it is Scilly : in records we commonly find it spelt
Silly, Silley, or Sulley ; but we are told the old Bri¬
tish appellation was- Sulleh, or Sylleh, which signi-
fiesLocks consecrated to the sun. We have not thu
least notice of any thing that regards them from the
fifth to the tenth century. It is, however, with much
appearance of truth conjectured, that some time within
this space they were in a great measure destroyed by
an earthquake, attended with a sinking of the earth,,
by which most of their lowlands, and of course the
. greatest part of their improvements, were covered
by the sea, and those rich mines of tin which had
rendered them so famous swallowed up in the deep.
They have a tradition in Cornwall, that a very exten¬
sive tract of country called the Lioness, in the old
Cornish Leihosoiv, supposed to lie between that coun¬
try and Scilly, was lost in that manner; and there are
many concurrent circumstances which render this pro¬
bable. In reference to these islands, the case is still
stronger ; for at low ebbs their stone inclosures are still
visible from almost all the isles, and thereby afford an
ocular demonstration that they were formerly of far
greater extent, and that in remoter ages their inhabi¬
tants must have been very numerous, and at the same-
time very industrious. This sufficiently proves the
fact, that by such an earthquake they were destroyed :
and, that it happened at some period of time within
those limits that have been assigned, appears from our
hearing nothing more of their tin trade, and from our
having no notice of it at all in any of our ancient chro¬
nicles, which, if it had fallen out later, from their
known attention to extraordinary events, must certain¬
ly have happened.
It is generally supposed, and with great appearance
of truth, that king Athelstan, after having overcome
a very powerful confederacy formed against him, and
having- reduced Exeter, and driven the Britons be-
3*ond the river Tamar, which he made the boundary
of their Cornish dominions, passed over into these isl¬
ands, (then surely in a better state than now, or they
would not have been objects of his vengeance), and re¬
duced them likewise. History does not inform us, that
the Danes ever fixed themselves in these islands; but
as their method of fortifying is very well known, it
has been conjectured- that the Giant’s Castle in the isle
of St Mary was erected by them; and indeed, if we
consider the convenient situation of these islands, and
the trade of piracy which that nation carried on, there
seems to be nothing improbable in that conjecture. It
is more certain that there were churches erected in these
isles, and that there were in them also many monks and .
hermits, before the conquest.
The fertility of the islands is much insisted upon in
all the accounts and it is expressly said of St Mary’s,
that it bears excec ding good corn, insomuch that if
men did but cast corn where swine had rooted, it
would come up. There is mention made of a breed of
wild swine, and the inhabitants had great plenty of
fowl and fish. But notwithstanding-the fertility of the
country, and the many commodities that men had or
might have there, it was nevertheless but thinly peo¬
pled ; and the reason assigned is, because they were
liable to be frequently spoiled by French or Spanish
pirates-.
SCI [ 571 ] SCI
&c!l!y. pirates. In Lekmcl’s time, one Mr D ivers of Wiltshire,
and Mr Whittington of Gloucestershire, were proprie¬
tors of Scilly, and drew from thence, in rents and com¬
modities, about 4-0 merks a year.
The inhabitants at that juncture, and long before,
appear to have carried on a small trade in dried skate
and other fish to Bretagne, with which they purchased
salt, canvas, and other necessaries. This seems to be
the remains of a very old kind of commerce, since, for
many ages, the people of that country, those of the
Scilly isles, and the people of Cornwall, looked upon
themselves as countrymen, being in truth no other than
remnants of the ancient Britons, who, when driven out
by the Saxons, took refuge in those islands, and in that
part of France which had before been called Armorica,
and from hence styled Bretagne, Brittany, or Little
Britain, and the people Bretons. This, in all proba¬
bility, was a great relief to those who dwelt in those
isles ; who, during the long civil war between the
houses of York and Lancaster, had their intercourse
with England so much interrupted, that if it had not
been for this commerce with their neighbours on the
French coast, they might have been driven to the last
distress.
The Scilly or Silley islands, lie due west from the
.Lizard about 17 leagues; west and by south from the
old Land’s End, next Mount’s Bay, at the distance
of 10 leagues ; and from the western Land’s End, they
lie west-south-west, at the distance of something more
than nine leagues. There are five of them inhabited ;
and that called Samson has one family in it. The lar¬
gest of these is St Mary’s which lies in the north lati¬
tude of 4-9 degrees 55 minutes, and in the longitude of
6 degrees 4?0 minutes west from Greenwich. It is two
miles and a half in length, about one and a half in
breadth, and between nine and ten miles in compass.
On the west side there projects an isthmus. Beyond
this there is a peninsula, which is very high ; and upon
which stands Star Castle, built in 1593, with some
outworks and batteries. On these there are upwards
of threescore pieces of cannon mounted; and for the
defence of which there is a garrison of an entire com¬
pany, with a master-gunner and six other gunners. In
the magazine there are arms for 300 islanders, who,
when summoned, are bound to march into the fortress.
Underneath the castle barracks and lines stands Hugh
Town, very improperly built, as lying so low as to be
subject to inundations. A mile within land stands
Church Town, so denominated from their place of wor¬
ship ; it consists of a few houses only, with a court house.
About two furlongs east of this lies the Old Town,
where there are more houses, and some of them very
convenient dwellings. The number of inhabitants in
this island is about 600 or 700; and it produces to the
lord proprietor 300/. per annum.
Trescaiv lies directly north from St Mary’s, at the
distance of two miles. It was formerly styled St Ni¬
cholas’s island ; and was at least as large as St Mary’s,
though at present about half the size. The remains
of the abbey are yet visible, the situation well chosen,
with a fine basin of fresh water before it, half a mile
long arid a furlong wide, with an ever-green bank
high enough to keep out the sea, and serving at once
to preserve the pond, and shelter the abbey. In this
pond there are most excellent eels, and the lands lying
round it are by far the best in those islands. There are
about half a score stone houses, with a church, which
are called Dolphin Town ; an old castle built in the
reign of Henry VIII. called Oliver’s Castle ; arid a new
block-house, raised out of the ruins of that castle, which
is of far greater use. This island is particularly noted
for producing plenty of the finest samphire, and the
only tin works that are now visible are found here.
There are upon it at present about 40 families, who are
very industrious, and spin more wool than in St Mary’s.
Its annual value is computed at 80/. a year.
A mile to the east of Trescaw, and about two miles
from the most northern part of St Mary’s, lies the isle
of St Martin’s, not much inferior in size to that of
Trescaw. It very plainly appears to have been former¬
ly extremely well cultivated ; notwithstanding which
it was entirely deserted, till within somewhat less than
a century ago, that Mr Thomas Ekines, a consider¬
able merchant, engaged some people to settle there.
He likewise caused to be erected a hollow tower twenty
feet in height, with a spire of as many feet more ;
which being neatly covered with lime, serves as a day-
mark for directing ships crossing the channel or coming
into Sciily. St Martin’s produces some corn, affords
the best pasture in these islands, nourishes a great num¬
ber of sheep, and has upon it 17 families, who pretend
to have the secret of burning the best kelp, and ara
extremely attached to their own island. As a proof of
this, it is observable, that though some of the inhabitants
rent lands in St Mary’s, yet they continue to reside
here, going thither only occasionally.
St Agnes, which is also called the Light-house Island,
lies near three miles south-west of St Mary’s; and is,
though a very little, a very well cultivated island, fruit¬
ful in corn and grass. The only inconvenience to
which the people who live in it are subject, is the want
of good water, as their capital advantage consists in ha¬
ving several good coves or small ports, where boats may
lie with safety ; which, however, are not much used.
The light-house is the principal ornament and great
support of the island ; it stands on the most elevated
ground, and is built with stone from the foundation to the
lanthorn, which is fifty-one feet high, the gallery four,
the sash-lights eleven feet and a half high, three feet
two inches wide, and sixteen in number. The floor of
the lanthorn is of brick, upon which stands a substantial
iron grate, square, barred on every side, with one great
chimney in the canopy-roof, and several lesser ones to
let out the smoke, and a large pair of smith’s bellows
are so fixed as to be easily used whenever there is oc¬
casion. Upon the whole, it is a noble and commodious
structure; and being plastered white, is a useful day-
mark to all ships coming from the southward. The
keeper of this light-house has a salary from the Trinity-
house at Deptford of 40/. a year, with a dwelling-
house and ground for a garden. His assistant has 20/.
a year. It-is supplied with coals by an annual ship ;
and the carriage of these coals from the sea-side to the
light-house is looked on as a considerable benefit to the
poor inhabitants. They have a neat little church, built
by the Godolphin family. There are at present 50
households in the island, which yield the proprietor 40/.
a year.
Brehar, or, as pronounced, Bryar island, lies north¬
west of St Mary’s, and to the west of Trescaw, to
4 C 2 which,
SCI [ 5
Snl!y. uhich, when the sea is very low. they sometimes pass
^ v —over the sand. It is very mountainous, abounds with
sea and land fowls, excellent samphire, and a great
variety of medicinal herbs. There are at present thir¬
teen families, who have a pretty church, and pay SO/,
a year to the proprietor.
South from hence, and west from Trescaw, stands
the island of Samson, in which there is not above one
family, who subsist chiefly by the making of kelp. To
the w estward of these there lie four islands, which con¬
tain in the whole 360 acres of meadow and arable land.
The eastern isles, so denominated from their position
in respect to St Mary’s, contain 123 acres; and there
are also seven other rocky and scattered islands, that
have each a little land of some use; and besides these,
innumerable rocks on every side, among which vve
must reckon Scillj/, now nothing more than a large,
ill-shaped, craggy, inaccessible island, lying the far-
thcs; north-west of any of them, and consequently the
nearest to the continent.
The air of these islands is equally mild and pure;
their winters are seldom subject to frost or snow.
When the former happens, it lasts not long; and the
latter never lies upon the ground. The heat of their
summers is much abated by sea-breezes. They are in¬
deed frequently incommoded by sea fogs, but these are
not unwholesome. Agues are rare, and fevers more so.
The most fatal distemper is the small-pox; yet those
who live temperately survive commonly to a great age,
and are remarkably free from diseases. The soil is very
good, and produces grain of all sorts (except wheat, of
which they had anciently plenty) in large quantities.
They still grow a little wheat, but the bread made of it
is unpleasant. They eat, for this reason, chiefly what
is made of barley; and of this they have such abundance,
that though they use it both for bread and beer, they
have more than suffices for their own consumption. The
introduction of potatoes was an essential improvement;
the cultivation of this plant succeeded so well, as to yield
everyseason themost luxuriantcrops. Rootsof all sorts,
pulse, and salads, grow ■well; dwarf fruit-trees, goose¬
berries, currants, raspberries, and every thing of that
kind, under proper shelter, thrive exceedingly ; but
they have no trees, though formerly they had elder; and
Porthelik, i- e. the harbour of willows, proves they had
these likewise ; and with a little care, no doubt, great
improvements might be made. The ranunculus, ane¬
mone, and most kinds of flowers, are successfully cul¬
tivated in their gardens. They have wild fowl of all
sorts, from the swan to the snipe; and a particular
kind called the hedge chicken, which is not inferior
to the ortolan t also tame fowl, puffins, and rabbits, in
great numbers. Their black cattle are generally small,
but very well tasted, though they feed upon ore-weed.
Their horses are little, but strong and lively. They
have also large flocks of fine sheep, whose fleeces are
tolerably good and their flesh excellent. There are no
venomous creatures in these islands.
We must now pass to the sea, which is of more
consequence to these isles than that small portion of
land which is distributed amongst them. St Mary’s
harbour is very safe and capacious, having that island
on the south; the eastern islands, with that of St Mar¬
tin, on the east; Trescaw, Brehar, and. Samson, to the
2 ] SCI
north ; St Agnes and several small islands to the west. Solly.
Ships ride here in three to five fathom water, with-y—
good anchorage. Into this harbour there are four
inlets, viz. Broad Sound, Smith’s •Sound, St Mary’s
Sound, and Crow Sound : so that hardly an}' wind can
blow with which a ship of 150 tons cannot safely sail
through one or other of them, Crow Sound only ex¬
cepted, where they cannot pass at low water, but at
high water there is from 16 to 24' feet in this passage.
Besides these there are two other harbours ; one called
Nciv Grynsey, which lies between Brehar and Trescaw,
where ships of 300 tons may ride securely. The other
is called Old Grynsey, and lies between Trescaw, St
Helen’s, and Theon, for smaller ships. The former
is guarded by the batteries at Oliver’s Castle; the lat¬
ter by the Blockhouse, on the eastern side of Trescaw,
called Dover. Small coasters bound to the northward
have more convenient outlets from these little harbours
than from St Mary’s, where, at the west end of Hugh
Town, there is a fine pier built by the earl of Godol-
phin, 430 feet long, 20 feet wide in the narrowest
part, and 23 feet in height, with 16 feet of water
at a spring, and 10 at a neap tide; so that under the
shelter of this pier, vessels of 150 tons may lie secure¬
ly, not only close to the quay, but all along the strand
of the town.
In this harbour, and in all the little coves of the
several isles, prodigious quantities of mackerel may be
caught in their season ; also soal, turbot, and plaice,
remarkably good in their kind ; and ling, which from
its being a thicker fish, mellower, and better fed, is very
justly preferred to any caught nearer our own coasts.
Salmon, cod, pollock, are in great plenty, and pilchards
in vast abundance. To these we may add the alga
marina, fucus, or ore-weed, which serves to feed both
their small and great cattle, manures their lands, is
burned into kelp, is of use in physic, is sometimes
preserved, sometimes pickled, and is in many other
respects very beneficial to the inhabitants, of whom
we are next to speak.
The people of Scilly in general are robust, hand¬
some, active, hardy, industrious, generous, and good-
natured ; speak the English language with great pro¬
priety ; have strong natural parts (though for want of
a good school they have little education), as appears
by their dexterity in the several employments to which
they are bred. They cultivate most of their lands as
well as can be expected under their present circum¬
stances. They are bred from their infancy to the ma¬
nagement of their boats, in which they excel; are good
fishermen, and excellent pilots. Their women are ad¬
mirable housewives, spin their own wool, weave it into
coarse cloth, and knit stockings. They have no timber
of their own growth, and not much from England;
yet they have many joiners and cabinet-makers, who,
out of the fine woods which they obtain from captains
of ships who put in here, make all kinds of domest ic
furniture in a very neat manner. They are free from the
land-tax, malt-tax, and exciseand being furnished with
plenty of liquors from the vessels which are driven into
their roads for refreshment, for necessary repairs, or
to wait for a fair wind, in return for provisions and
other conveniences; this, with what little fish they can
cure, makes the best part of their trade, if we except
their
SCI [5
Scilly. their kelp, which has been a growing manufacture for
these fourscore years, and produces at present about
5001. per annum.
The right honourable the earl of Godolpbin is styled
proprietor of Sciily, in virtue of letters-patent granted
to the late earl, then Lord Godolphin, dated the 25th
of July 1698, for the term of 89 years, to be comput¬
ed from the end and expiration of a term of 50 years,
granted to Francis Godolphin, Esq. by King Charles I.,
that is, from the year 1709 to 1798, when his lease de¬
termines. In virtue of this royal grant, his lordship is
the sole owner of all lands, houses, and tenements ;
claims all the tithes, not only of the fruits of the earth,
but of fish taken at sea and landed upon those premises;
harbour-duties paid by ships, and one moiety of the
wrecks, the other belonging to the admiralty. There
is only one ecclesiastical person upon the islands, who
resides at St Mary’s, and visits the other inhabited
islands once a year. But divine service is perform¬
ed, and sermons read, every Sunday in the churches
of those islands, by an honest layman appointed for that
purpose; and there are likewise church-wardens and
overseers, regularly chosen in every parish. As to the
civil government, it is administered by what is called
the Court of Twelve; in which the commander in
chief, the proprietor’s agent, and the chaplain, have
their seats in virtue of their offices: the other nine are
chosen by the people. These decide, or rather com¬
promise, all differences; and punish small offences by
fines, whippings, and the ducking-stool: as to greater
enormities, we may conclude they have not been hi¬
therto known; since, except for the soldiers, there is
no prison in the islands. But in case of capital of¬
fences, the criminals may be transported to the coun¬
ty of Cornwall, and there brought to justice.
The great importance of these islands arises from
their advantageous situation, as looking equally into St
George’s channel, which divides Great Britain from
Ireland, and the English channel, which separates Bri¬
tain from France. For this reason, most ships bound
from the southward strive to make the Scilly islands, in
order to steer their course with greater certainty. It
is very convenient also for vessels to take shelter a-
mongst them; which prevents their being driven to
Milford Haven, nay sometimes into some port in Ire¬
land, if the wind is strong at east; or, if it blow hard
at north-west, from being forced back into some of the
Cornish harbours, or even on the French coasts. If
the wind should not be very high, yet if unfavourable
or unsteady, as between the channels often happens,
it is better to put into Scilly, than to beat about at sea
in bad weather. The intercourse between these two
channels is another motive why ships come in here, as
choosing rather to wait in safety for a wind, than to
run the hazard of being blown out of their course; and
therefore a strong gale at east seldom fails of bringing
30 or 40 vessels, and frequently a larger number, into
Sciih ; not more to their own satisfaction than to that
of the inhabitants. Ships homeward-bound from Ame¬
rica often touch there, from the desire of making the
first land in their power, and for the sake of refreshment.
These reasons have an influence on foreign ships, as
well as our own ; and afford the natives an opportunity
of showing their wonderful dexterity in conducting
them safely into St Mary’s harbour, and, when the w ind
^ L
73 ] SCI
serves, through their sounds. Upon firing a gun and
making a waft, a boat immediately puts off from the
nearest island, with several pilots on board ; and hav¬
ing with amazing activity dropped one of them into
every ship, till only two men are left in the boat, these
return again to land, as the wind and other circum¬
stances direct, in one of their little coves.
Respecting a current which often prevails to the
westward of Scilly, Mr Kennel has published some ob¬
servations of much importance. “ It is a circumstance
(says he) well known to seamen, that ships, in coming
from the Atlantic, and steering a course for the British
channel, in a parallel somewhat to the south of the
Scilly islands, do notwithstanding often find themselves
to the north of those islands; or, in other words, in
the mouth of St George’s or of the Bristol channel.
This extraordinary error has passed for the effects ei¬
ther of bad steerage, bad observations of latitude, or
the indraught of the Bristol channel: but none of these
account for it satisfactorily; because, admitting that
at times there may be an indraught, it cannot be sup¬
posed to extend to' Scilly; and the case has happened
in weather the most favourable for navigating and for
taking observations. The consequences of this devia¬
tion from the intended tract have very often been fa¬
tal; particularly in the loss of the Nancy packet in
our own times, and that of Sir Cloudesley Shovel and
others of his fleet at the beginning of the present cen¬
tury. Numbers of cases, equally melancholy, but of
less celebrity, have occured ; and many others, in which
the danger has been imminent, but not fatal, have
scarcely reached the public ear. All of these have been
referred to accident; and therefore no attempt seems
to have been made to investigate the cause of them.
“ I am, however, of opinion, that they may be im¬
puted to a specific cause; namely, a current; and I
shall therefore endeavour to investigate both that and
its effects, that seamen may be apprized of the times
when they are particularly to expect it in any con-
siderable degree of strength for then only it is likely
to occasion mischief, the current that prevails at or¬
dinary times being probably too weak to produce an
error in the reckoning, equal to the difference of pa¬
rallel between the south part of Scilly and the tract
in which a commander, prudent in his measures, but
unsuspicious of a current, would choose to sail. ”
The original cause of this current is the prevalence
of westerly winds in the Atlantic, which impel the
waters along the north coast of Spain, and accumulate
th m in the bay of Biscay; whence they are projected
along the coast of France, in a direction north-west by
west to the west of Scilly and Ireland. The Major as¬
signs strong reasons for the existence of this current
between Ushant and Ireland, in a chart of the tracks of
the Hector and Atlas, East India ships, in 1778 and
1787. The following remarks on the effect of this
current are abridged from the author’s work, which is
well worthy the perusal of all sailors and shipmasters.
1st, If a ship crosses it obliquely, that is, in an east
by south or more southerly direction, she will continue
much longer in it, and of course be more affected by it,
than if she crossed it more directly. The same conse¬
quence will happen if she crosses it with light winds.
2dly, A good observation of latitude at noon would be
thought a sufficient warrant for running eastward dur-
S C T r 574 ] SCI
ing along niglit; yet, as it may be possible to remain
in ii > current longenough to be carried from a parallel,
v.’liich may be deemed a very safe one, to that of the
rocks of Scilly, it would appear prudent, after expe¬
riencing a continuance of strong westerly winds in the
Atlancic, and approaching the Channel with light
southerly winds, either to make Ushant in time of
peace, or at all events to keep in the parallel of 48° 45'
at the highest.. Sdly, Ships, bound to the westward,
from the mouth of the Channel, with the wind in the
south-west quarter, should prefer the larboard tack.
4 tidy, Major Rennel approves the design of removing
the light-house of Scilly (if it he not already remov¬
ed) to the south-west part of the high rocks. 5thly,
lie recommends the sending a vessel, with time-keepers
on hoard, to examine the soundings between the pa¬
rallels of Scilly and Ushant; from the meridian of the
Lizard Point as far west as the moderate depths ex¬
tend. A set of time-keepers, he observes, will effect
more in one summer, in skiifulhands, than all thescience
of Dr Halley could do in the course of a long life.
In time of war, the importance of these islands is
still more conspicuous; and it is highly probable, that
they afforded the allies a place for assembling their
fleet, when the Britons, Danes, Scots, and Irish, sailed
under the command of Anlaff, to attack King Athel-
stan; which convinced him of the necessity of adding
them to his dominions. Upon the like principle, Hen¬
ry VHI., when upon bad terms with his neighbours,
caused an old fortress to he repaired, and Queen Eli¬
zabeth, who had more to fear, directed the construction
of a castle, which, in part at least, still remains. But
the most singular instance of the detriment that might
arise from these islands falling into other hands than
our own, happened in 1651, when Sir John Grenville
took shelter in them with the remains of the Cornish
cavaliers. For the depredations committed by his
frigates soon made it evident that Scilly was the
key of the English commerce; and the clamours of
the merchants thereupon rose so high, that the par¬
liament were forced to send a fleet of fifty sail, with a
great body of land forces on board, under Sir George
Ayscue and Admiral Blake, who with great difficulty,
and no inconsiderable loss, made themselves masters
of Trescaw and Brehar; where they erected those
lines and fortifications near the remains of the old for¬
tress that are called Oliver s Castle. But at length,
finding that little was to he done in that way, they
chose to grant Sir John Grenville a most honourable
capitulation, as the surest means to recover places of
such consequence ; with which the parliament were
very little satisfied, till Mr Blake gave them his rea¬
son ; which appeared to be so well founded, that they
directed the articles he had concluded to be punc¬
tually carried into execution.
SC 10, or Chlo, a celebrated island of the Archipe¬
lago (see Chio). It is 32 miles long and 15 broad, and
is a mountainous but very pleasant country. The prin¬
cipal mountain, called anciently Pelinceus, presents to
view a long lofty range of bare rock, reflecting the sun;
but the recesses at its feet are diligently cultivated, and
rewTard the husbandman by their rich produce. The
slopes are clothed with vines. The groves of lemon,
orange, and citron trees, regularly planted, at once
perfume the air with the odour of their blossoms, and
delight the eye with their golden fruit. Myrtles and Scto,
jasmine are interspersed, with olive and palm trees, and ScioPP‘‘
cypresses. Amid these the tall minarets rise, and white
houses glitter, dazzling the beholder. The inhabitants
export a large quantity of pleasant wine to the neigh¬
bouring islands, but their principal trade is in silks.
They have also a small commerce in wool, cheese, figs,
and mastich. The women are better bred than in other
parts of the Levant; and though the dress is odd, yet it
is very neat. The partridges are tame, being sent every
day into the fields to get their living, and in the even-
ing are called back with a whistle. The town called
Scio is large, pleasant, and the best built of any in the
Levant, the houses being beautiful and commodious,
some of which are terraced, and others covered with
tiles. The streets are paved with flint-stones ; and the
Venetians, while they had it in their possession, made a
great many alterations for the better. The castle is an
old citadel built by the Genoese, in which the Turks
have a garrison of 1400 men. The harbour of Scio is
the rendezvous of all shipping that goes to or comes
from Constantinople, and will hold a fleet of fourscore
vessels. They reckon there are 10,000 Turks, 100,000
Greeks, and 10,000 Larins, on this island. The
Turks took it from the Venetians in 1695. Scio is a bi-
shops’s see, and is seated on the sea-side, 47 miles west
of Smyrna, and 210 south-west of Constantinople.
There are but few remains of antiquity in this place.
“ The most curious of them (says Dr Chandler) is that
which has been named without reason the School of
Homer. It is on the coast at some distance from the
city northward, and appears to have been an open tem¬
ple of Cybele, formed on the top of a rock. The shape
is oval, and in the centre is the image of the goddess,
the head and an arm wanting. She is represented, as
usual, sitting. The chair has a lion carved on each
side, and on the back. The area is bounded by a low
rim or seat, and about five yards over. The whole is
hewn out of the mountain, is rude, indistinct, and pro¬
bably’of the most remote antiquity. From the slope
higher up is a fine view of the rich vale of Scio, and
of the channel, with its shining islands, beyond which
are the mountains on the mainland of Asia. ”
SCIOPPIUS, Gaspar, a learned German writer of
the 17th century, was born at Neumark in the Upper
Palatinate on the 27th of May 1576. He studied at
the university with so much'success, that at the age of
16 he became an author ; and published books, says
Ferrari, which deserve to he admired by old men. His
dispositions did not correspond with his genius. Natu¬
rally passionate and malevolent, he assaulted without
mercy the characters of eminent men. He abjured the
system of the Protestants, and became a Roman Catho¬
lic about the year 1599; but his character remained
the same. He possessed all those qualities which fitted
him for making a distinguished figure in the literary
world ; imagination, memory, profound learning, and
invincible impudence. He was familiar with the terms
of reproach in most of the languages. He was entirely
ignorant of the manners of the world. He neither
showed respect to his superiors, nor did he behave
with decency to his equals. He was possessed with a
frenzy of an uncommon kind : he was indeed a perfect
firebrand, scattering around him, as if for his amusement,
the most atrocious calumnies. Joseph Scaliger, above
SCI [ ] sc*
ioppius all others, was the object of his satire. That learned
V*0 man, having drawn up the history of his own family,
and deduced its genealogy from princes, was severely
attacked by Scioppius, who ridiculed his high preten¬
sions. Scaliger in his turn wrote a book entitled The
Life and Parentage of Caspar Scioppius, in which he
informs us, that the father of Scioppius had been suc¬
cessively a,grave-digger, a journeyman stationer, a.haw-
ker, a soldier, a miller, and a brewer of beer. We are
told that his wife was long kept as a mistress, and at
length forsaken by a debauched man whom she follow¬
ed to Hungary, and obliged to return to her husband;
that then he treated her harshly, and condemned her
to the lowest offices of servitude. His daughter, too,
it is said, was as disorderly as her mother : that after the
flight of her husband, who was going to he burned for
some infamous crimes, she became a common prostitute;
and at length grew so scandalous, that she was com¬
mitted to prison. These severe accusations against the
family of Scioppius inflamed him with more eagerness
to attack his antagonist anew. He collected all the car
lumnies that had been thrown out against Scaliger, and
formed them into a huge volume, as if he had intended
to crush him at once. He treated with great contempt
the king of England, James I., in his Ecclesiasticus, &c.
and in his Collyriuin Regium Britannia: Regigravitcr ex
oculis laboranti munere mission ; that is, “ An Eye-salve
for his Britannic Majesty. ” In one of his works he had
the audacity to abuse Henry IV. of France in a most
scurr ilous manner, on which account his book was burn¬
ed at Paris. He was hung in effigy in a farce which w as
represented before the king of England, hut he gloried
in his dishonour. Provoked with his insolence to their
sovereign, the servants of the English ambassador as¬
saulted him at Madrid, and corrected him severely:
but he boasted of the wounds he had received. He
published more than thirty defamatory libels against
the Jesuits ; and, what is very surprising, in the very
place where he declaims with most virulence against
that society, he subscribes his own name with expres¬
sions of piety. J Gasper Scioppius, already on the brink
of the grave, and ready to appear before the tribunal of
Jesus Christ, to give an account of my works. Towards
the end of his life he employed himself in studying the
Apocalypse, and affirmed that he had found the key to
that mysterious book. He sent some of his exposi¬
tions to Cardinal Mazarine ; but the cardinal did not
find it convenient to read them.
Ferrari tells us, that during the last fourteen years of
his life, he shut himself up in a small apartment, where
be devoted himself solely to study. The same writer
acquaints us, that he could repeat the Scriptures almost
entirely by heart; but his good qualities were eclipsed
by his vices. For his love of slander, and the furious
assaults which he made upon the most eminent men, he
was called the Cerberus of literature. He accuses even
Cicero of barbarisms and improprieties. He died on
the 19th November 1649, at the age of 74, at Padua,
the only retreat which remained to him from the multi¬
tude of enemies whom he had created. Four hundred
books are ascribed to him, which are said to discover
great genius and learning. The chief of these are,
1. Verisimilium Libri iv. 1596, in 8vo. 2. Commenta-
rius de arte critica, 1661, in 8vo. 3. De sua ad Catho-
Ucos migratione, 1660, in 8vo. 4. Notationes Critica: in
Phcedrum, in Priaptia, Patavii, 1664, in 8vo. 5. Fats- Scwp-plus-
pectnrum lectionum Libri v. 1664, in 8vo. 6. Classicum Jl
belli sneri, 1619, in 4to. 7. Collyrium regium, 1611.- hcli^c Ia,i
in 8vo. 8. Grnmmatica JFhilosophica, 1644, in 8vo.
9. Relatio ad Reges cl Principes de Stratageniatibus
Societatis Jesu, 1641, in 12mo. This last mentioned
was published under the name of Alphon&o de Vargas.
He was at first well disposed to the Jesuits ; but these'
fathers on one occasion opposed him. He presented a
petition to the diet of liatisbon in 1630, in order to
obtain a pension ; but the Jesuits, who were the con¬
fessors both of the emperor and the electors, had in¬
fluence to prevent the petition from being granted.
From that moment Scioppius turned his whole artil¬
lery against the Jesuits.
SCIOPTIC, or Scioptric Ball, a sphere or globe-
of wood, with a circular perforation, where a lens is
placed. It is so fitted, that, like the eye of an animal,
it may be turned round every way, to be used in mak¬
ing experiments of the darkened room.
SCIPIO, Publius Cornelius, a renowned Roman
general, surnamed Africanus, for his conquests in that
country. His other signal military exploits were, his
taking the city of New Carthage in a single day; his
complete victory over Hannibal, the famous Carthagi¬
nian general; the defeat of Syphax king of Numidia,
and of Antiochus in Asia. He was as eminent for his
chastity, and his generous behaviour to his prisoners,
as for his valour. He died 180 B. C. aged about 51.
Scipio, Lucius Cornelius, his brother, surnamed A-
siaticus, for his complete victory over Antiochus at the
battle of Magnesia, in which Antiochus lost 50,000 in¬
fantry and 4000 cavalry. A triumph, and the sur¬
name of A si at ic.it s, were the rewards of his valour.
Yet his ungrateful countrymen accused him, as well
as his brother, of peculation ; for which he was fined :
hut the public sale of his effects proved the falsehood
of the charge ; for they did not produce the amount of
the fine. He flourished about 190 B. C.
Scipio, Publius Emilianus, was the son of Paulus
Emilius; but being adopted by Scipio Africanus, he
was called Scipio Africanus junior. He showed him>-
self worthy of adoption, following the footsteps of
Scipio Africanus, whom he equalled in military fame
and public virtues. His chief victories were the con¬
quest. of Carthage and Numanlia ; yet these signal ser¬
vices to his country could not protect him from an un¬
timely fate. He was strangled in his bed by order of
the Decemviri, who. dreaded his popularity, 129 B. C.
aged 56.
SC1RO, an island of the Archipelago, to the west
of Mytilene, to the north-east of Negropont, and to the
south-east of Sciati. It is 15 miles in length, and eight
in breadth. It is, a mountainous country, but has no
mines.. The vines make the beauty of the island,,and
wine is excellent; nor do the natives want wood.
There is but one village; and that is built on a rock,
which runs up like a sugar-loaf, and is 10 miles from
the harbour of St George. The inhabitants are all
Greeks, the cadi being, the only Turk,among them.
SCIROCHO, or Sirocco, a name generally given
in Italy to every unfavourable wind. In the south-west
it is applied to the hot suffocating blasts from Africa;
and in the north-east it means the cold bleak winds
from the Alps.
SC HUT 'S,
SCO [ 516 ] SCO
‘Scirpus SCTIIPUS, a genus of plants belonging to the trian-
Scoi p c^ass ; 'n t^e natural method ranking under
‘ . the third order, Culnmnricr, See Botany Index.
SCIRRHUS, in Surgery and Medicine, a hard tu¬
mor of any part of the body, void of pain, arising, as
is supposed, from t he inspissation and induration of the
fluids contained in a gland, though it may also appear
in any other part of the body, especially in the fat ;
being one of the ways in which an inflammation ter¬
minates. These tumours are exceedingly apt to de¬
generate into cancers.
SCITAMINEiE, one of the natural orders of
plants. See Botany Index.
SCIURUS, the Squirrel ; a genus of quadrupeds
belonging to the order of glires. See Mammalia
Index.
Sciurus, a genus of plants belonging to the diandria
class ; and in the natural method ranking with those
that are doubtful. See Botany Index.
SCLAVONIA, a country of Europe between the
rivers Save, the Drave, and the Danube. It is divid¬
ed into six counties, and belongs to the house of Aus¬
tria. It was formerly called a kingdom ; and is very
narrow, not being above 75 miles in breadth ; but it is
300 in length, from the frontiers of Austria to Bel¬
grade. It contains about 7500 square miles, and in
1813 had 528,200 inhabitants. The eastern part is
called Ratzia, and the inhabitants Ratzians. These
are of the Greek church. The language of Sclavonia
is the mother of four others, namely, those of Hun¬
gary, Bohemia, Poland, and Russia.
SCLERANTHUS, a genus of plants belonging to
the dodecandria class ; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 22d order, Caryophyllcce. See Botany
Index.
SCLERIA, a genus of plants belonging to the mo-
ncecia class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 4th order, Gramina. See Botany Index.
SCLEROTICS, medicines which are supposed to
have the property of hardening and consolidating the
flesh of the parts to which they are applied; as purslain,
house-leek, flea-wort, garden nightshade, &c.
SCOLOPAX, a genus of birds belonging to the
order of grallm. See Ornithology Index.
SCOLOPENDR A, a genus of insects belonging to
the order of aptera. See Entomology Index.
SCOLYMUS, a genus of plants belonging to the
syngenesia class; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 49th order, Composites. See Botany Index.
SCOMBER, the Mackerel, a genus of fishes be¬
longing to the order of thoracici. See Ichthyology
Index.
SCONCES, small forts, built for the defence of
some pass, river, or other place. Some sconces are
made regular, of four, five, or six bastions ; others are
of smaller dimensions, fit for passes or rivers; and o-
thers for the field.
SCONE, a village of Scotland, now chiefly remark¬
able for being the place where the kings were anciently
crowned. W. Long. 3. 10. N. Lat. 56. 28. Here
was once an abbey of great antiquity, which was burnt
by the reformers at Dundee. Kenneth II. upon his
conquest of thePictsin the ninth century, having made
Scone his principal residence, delivered his laws, called
the Macalpine laics, from a tumulus, named the Mote
Hill of Scone. The old palace was begun by the earl ScomI j
of Gowrie ; but was completed by Sir David Murray II
of Gospatric, the favourite of King James VI, to whom Sccrpiul|
that monarch had granted it; and the new possessor,
in gratitude to his benefactor, put up the king’s arms
in several parts of the house. It was built around two
courts. The dining room was large and handsome;
and had an ancient and magnificent chimney-piece,
and the king’s arms, with this motto :
Nobis luce invicta miserunt centum sex proavi.
Beneath were the Murray arms. In the drawing room
was some good old tapestry, with an excellent figure of
Mercury. In a small bed-chamber was a medley scrip¬
ture-piece in needle-work, with a border of animals,
said to be the work of Queen Mary during her confine¬
ment in Loch Leven castle. The gallery was about
155 feet long, the top arched, divided into compart¬
ments filled with paintings in water-colours. The pieces
represented were various kinds of huntings ; that of
Nimrod, and King James and his train, appear in every
piece. But the whole of this building we believe has
been demolished, and a most magnificentpile erected in
its place by the earl of Mansfield, who is hereditary
keeper. Till the destruction of the abbey, the kings
of Scotland were crowned here, sitting in the famous
wooden chair which Edward I. transported to West¬
minster abbey, to the great mortification of the Scots,
who looked upon it as a kind of palladium. Charles II.
before the battle of Worcester, was crowned in the
chapel at Scone. The old pretender resided for some time
at Scone in 1715 ; and his son paid it a visit in 1745.
SCO PARI A, a genus of plants belonging to the
tetrandria class; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 40th order, Pcrsoncttce. See Botany Index.
SCO PER or Scueper Holes, in a ship, are holes
made through the sides, close to the deck, to carry
off the water that comes from the pumps,
SCOPOLIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
gynandria class; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 11th class, Sarmcntacece. See Botany Index.
SCORBUTUS, the Scurvy, See Medicine,
N° 8.
SCORD1UM, or Water-germander. See Teu-
crium, Botany Index.
SCORIA, or Dross, among metallurgists, is the re¬
crement of metals in fusion ; or, more determinately
speaking, is that mass which is produced by melting
metals and ores ; when cold, it is brittle, anil not dis¬
soluble in water, being properly a kind of glass.
SCORIFICATION, in Metallurgy, is the art of re¬
ducing a body, either entirely or in part, into scoria.
SCORPTENA, a genus of fishes belonging to the
order thoraeici. See Ichthyology Index.
SCORPIO, a genus of insects belonging to the or¬
der of aptera. See Entymology Index.
Scorpio, Scorpion, in Astronomy, the eighth sign of
the zodiac, denoted by the character np. See Astro¬
nomy.
ScoRPioN-Fly. See Panorpa, Entomology In¬
dex.
SCORPIURUS, Caterpillars, a genus of plants
belonging to the diadelphia class ; and in the natural
method ranking under the 32d order, Papilionaccce.
See Botany Index.
SCORZONERA,
SCO [ 577 ] SCO
, zonera SCORZONERA, Viper-grass, a genus of plants
iales belonging to the syngenesia class ; and in the natural
( ’ ■ method ranking under the 49th order, Composites. See
Botany Index.
SCOT, a customary contribution laid upon all sub¬
jects, according to their abilities. Whoever were as¬
sessed in any sunl, though not in equal proportions,
were said to pay scot and lot.
Scot, Michael, of Balwirie, a learned Scottish author
of the 13th century. This singular man made the tour
of France and Germany; and was received with some
distinction at the court of the emperor Frederic II.
Having travelled enough to gratify his curiosity or his
vanity, he returned to Scotland, and gave himself up to
study and contemplation. He was skilled in languages ;
and, considering the age in which he lived, was no mean
proficient in philosophy, mathematics, and medicine.
He translated into Latin, from the Arabic, the history
of animals by the celebrated physician Avicenna. He
published the whole works of Aristotle, with notes; and
\ affected much to reason on the principles of that great
philosopher. He wrote a book concerning The Secrets
of Nature, in which he treats of generation, physiogno¬
my, and the signs by which we judge of the tempera¬
ments of men and women. We have also a tract of his
On the Nature of the Sun and Moon. He there speaks
of the grand operation, as it is termed by alchymists,
and is exceedingly solicitous about the projected powder,
or the philosopher s stone. He likewise published what
he calls Mensa Philosophical treatise replete with astro¬
logy and chiromancy. He was much admired in his
day, and was even suspected of magic ; and had Roger
Bacon and Cornelius Agrippa for his panegyrists.
Scot, Reginald, a judicious writer in the 16th cen¬
tury, wras the younger son of Sir John Scot of Scots-
hall, near Smeethe in Kent. Fie studied at Hart-Hall
in the University of Oxford ; after which he retired to
Smeethe, where he lived a studious life, and died in
1599. He published, The perfect Platform of a Hop-
Garden ; and a book entitled, The Discovery of Witch¬
craft ; in which he showed that all the relations con¬
cerning magicians and witches are chimerical. This
work was not only censured by King James I. in his
Dcemonology, but by several eminent divines ; and all
the copies of it that could be found were burnt.
SCOTAL, or Scotale, is where any officer of a
forest keeps an ale-house within the forest, by colour
of his office, making people come to his house, and there
spend their money for fear of his displeasure. We find
it mentioned in the charter of the forest, cap. 8. “ Nul-
lus forestarius, faciat Scotallas, vel garbas colligat, vel
aliquam collectam faciat,” &c. Manivood, 216.—The
word is compounded of scot and ale, and by transposi¬
tion of the wrords is otherwise called aleshot.
SCOTALES, were meetings formerly held in Eng¬
land for the purpose of drinking ale, of which the ex¬
pense was paid by joint contribution. Thus the tenants
of South Mailing in Sussex, which belonged to the arch¬
bishop of Canterbury, were, at the keeping of a court,
to entertain the lord or his bailiff with a drinking, or
an ale ; and the stated quotas towards the charge were,
that a man should pay threepence halfpenny for himself
and his wife, and a widow and cottager a penny half¬
penny. In the manor of Ferring, in the same county,
and under the same jurisdiction, it was the custom for
You XVIII. Part II.
the tenants named to make a scotale of sixteen pence
halfpenny, and to allow out of each sixpence a penny
halfpenny for the bailiff.
Common scotales in taverns, at which the clergy
were not to be present, are noticed in several ecclesi¬
astical canons. They were not to be published in the
church by the clergy or the laity; and a meeting of
more than ten persons of the same parish or vicinage
was a scotale that was generally prohibited. There
were also common drinkings, which were denominated
leet-ale, hride-ale, clerk-ale, church ale. To a leet-ale
probably all the residents in a manorial district were
contributors; and the expense of a hride-ale was de¬
frayed by the relations and friends of a happy pair, who
were not in circumstances to bear the charges of a wed¬
ding dinner. This custom prevails occasionally in some
districts of Scotland even at this day, under the denomi¬
nation of 2l penny bride-ale, and was very common about
half a century ago. The clerk's-tx\e was in the Easter
holidays, and was the method taken to enable clerks
of parishes to collect their dues more readily.
Mr Warton, in his history of English poetry, has in¬
serted the following extract from an old indenture,
which clearly shows the design of a church-a\e. “ The
parishioners of Elveston and Okebrook, in Derbyshire,
agree jointly to brew four ales, and every ale of one
quarter of malt, betwixt this and the feast of St John
the Baptist next coming; and that every inhabitant of
the said town of Okebrook shall be at the several ades.
Every husband and his wife shall pay twopence, every
cottager one penny; and all the inhabitants of Elves¬
ton shall have and receive all the profits and advan¬
tages coming of the said ales, to the use and beho<f f
the said church of Elveston. ”
The give-ales were the legacies of individuals, and
from that circumstance entirely gratuitous. They seem
to have been very numerous, and were generally left to
the poor; though, from the largeness of the quantity of
ale enjoined to be brewed, it must have been sometimes
intended that others were to partake of them. These
bequests were likewise made to the altar of a saint, with
directions for singing masses at the obit, or anniversary
of the testator. The give-ales were sometimes dispensed
in the church, and frequently in the church-yard, by
which means Godde’s house was made a tavern of glut¬
tons. Such certainly would be Chalk-church, if in it
was kept the give-ale of William May of that parish ;
for he ordered his wife “ to make in bread six bushels
of wheat, and in drink 10 bushels of malt, and in
cheese 2©d. to give to poor people, for the health of
his soull; and he ordered that, after the decease of his
wife, his executors and feoffees should continue the
custom for evermore. ”
SCOTER. See Anas, Ornithology Index.
Nova SCOTIA, or New Scotland, one of the Bri¬
tish settlements in North America, situated between
43° and 49° north latitude, and between 60° and 67°
west longitude, is bounded by the river St Laurence on
the north; by the gulf of St Laurence and the Atlan¬
tic ocean on the east; by the same ocean on the south;
and by Canada and New England on the west—In the
year 1784, this province was divided into two govern¬
ments. The province and government now styled New
Brunswick, is bounded on the w estward of the mouth of
the river St Croix, by the said river to its source, and
t 4* 9 ^
Scat ales
SCO [ 578 1 SCO
Nova Sco- by a ];ne drawn due north from thence to the southern
t ^ .boundary of the province of Quebec ; to the northward
^ ~ by the said boundary as far as the western extremity of
the bay De Chaleurs ; to the eastward by the said bay to
the gulf of St Laurence to the bay called Bay Verte ;
to the south by a line in the centre of the bay of Fun-
dy, from the river St Croix aforesaid, to the mouth of
the Musquat river, by the said river to its source ; and
from thence by a due east line across the isthmus into
the Bay Verte, to join the eastern lot above described,
including all islands within six leagues of the coast.
The chief rivers are, the river of St Laurence, which
forms the northern boundary. The rivers Risgouche
and Nipisiguit run from west to east, and fall into the
bay of St Laurence. The rivers of St John, Passa-
magandi, Penobscot, and St Croix, which run from
north to south, fall into Fundy bay, or the sea a little
to the eastward of it.
The seas adjoining to it are, the Atlantic ocean,
Fundy bay, and the gulf of St Laurence. The lesser
bays are, Chenigto and Green Bay upon the isthmus
which joins the north part of Nova Scotia to the south ;
and the bay of Chaleurs on the north-east; the bay of
Chedibucto on the south-east; the bay of the Islands;
the ports of Bart, Chebucto, Prosper, St Margaret, La
Heve, Port Maltois, Port Ptysignal, Port Vert, and
Port Joly, on the south; Port La Tour on the south¬
east ; Port St Mary, Annapolis, and Minas on the south
side of Fundy bay, and Port Roseway, now the most
populous of all The chief capes are, Cape Portage,
Ecoumenac, Tourmentin, Cape Port, and Epis, on the
east; Cape Fogerie and Cape Canceau on the south¬
east ; Cape Blanco, Cape Vert, Cape Theodore, Cape
Dore, Cape La Heve, and Cape Negro, on the south ;
Cape Sable and Cape Fourche on the south-west.—The
lakes are very numerous, but have not yet received
particular names.
The face of the country, when viewed at a distance,
presents a pleasingly variegated appearance of hills and
valleys, with scarcely any thing like mountains to inter¬
rupt the prospect, especially near the sea. A nearer
approach discovers those sublime and beautiful scenes
which are so far superior to the gaudy embellishments
of art. Immense forests, formed of the tallest crees, the
growth of ages, and reaching almost to the clouds, every¬
where cover and adorn the land : their leaves falling in
autumn, add continually to that crust of moss, vegetables,
and decaying wood, that has for many centuries been
accumulating ; whilst the rays of the sun, unable to
pierce the thick shade which everywhere covers the
ground, leaves it in a perpetual state of damp and rot¬
tenness ; a circumstance which contributes in no small
degree, to increase the sharpness of the air in winter.
The clouds, flying over the high grounds, which
are covered in e'rery direction with one vast forest, and
arrested by the attraction of the woods, fill the country
with water. Every rock has a spring, and every spring
causes a swamp or morass, of greater or less extent in
proportion to its cause : hence it is, that travelling be¬
comes almost impracticable in summer, and is seldom
attempted, but in the fall of the year, when winter be¬
gins to set in, and the ground is already frozen.
The land throughout the peninsula is in no part
mountainous, but frequently rises into hills of gradual
sscent, everywhere clothed with wood. From these
arise innumerable springs and rivulets, which not only Nova S
fertilize and adorn the country, but have formed, in tia-
the midst of it, a large lake or piece of fresh water,
which is of various depths, and of which, however, lit¬
tle more is known, than that it has upoq its borders
very large tracts of meadow-land highly improveable.
That part of the province which is beyond the bay of
Fundy, and extends to the river of St Laurence, rises
also gradually as we advance from the sea quite to Ca¬
nada ; but is, however, hardly anywhere mountainous.
Its lands are for the most part very rich, particularly
at a distance from the sea ; and its woods abound with
the hardest and loftiest trees.
Though this country, like Canada, is subject to long
and severe winters, succeeded by sudden and violent
heats, often much greater than what are felt in the same
latitudes in Europe, yet it cannot be accounted an un¬
healthy climate. The air in general in winter is very
sharp, frosty, and dry ; the sky serene and unclouded,
by which every kind of exercise adapted to the season
is rendered pleasant and agreeable. The fogs are fre¬
quent near the sea, but seldom spread themselves to
any distance inland.
The winter commonly breaks up with heavy rains,
and the inhabitants experience hardly any of the de¬
lights of the spring, which in England is accounted the
most agreeable season of the year. From a lifeless and
dreary appearance, and the gloomy scenes of winter
wrapped around the vegetable world, the country throws
offits forbidding attire, and in a few days exhibits a grand
and pleasant prospect: the vegetation being inconceiv¬
ably rapid, nature passes suddenly from one extreme
to another, in a manner utterly unknown to countries
accustomed to a gradual progression of seasons. And,
strange as it appears, it is an acknowledged fact, a fact
which furnishes a certain proof of the purity of the air,
that these sudden changes seldom, if ever, affect the
health of strangers or Europeans.
In this country agriculture has yet made but small
progress. Nova Scotia is almost a continued forest,
producing every land of wood which grows in the
neighbouring provinces of New England. Four-fifths
of all the lands in the province are covered with pines,
which are valuable not only for furnishing masts, spars,
lumber for the sugar plantations, and timber for build¬
ing, but for yielding tar, pitcn, and turpentine, com¬
modities which are all procured from this useful tree,
and with which the mother country may in a few years
easily be supplied.
The various species of birch, beech, and maple, and
several sorts of spruce, are found in all parts in great
abundance ; as also numerous herbs and plants, either
not common to, or not known in, England. Amongst
these none is more plentiful than sarsaparilla, and a
plant whose root resembles rhubarb in colour, taste,
and effects; likewise the Indian or mountain tea, and
maiden hair, an herb much in repute for the same pur¬
pose, with shrubs producing strawberries, raspberries,
and many other pleasant fruits, with which the woods
in summer are well stored : Of these wild productions
the cherries are best, though smaller than ours, and
growing in bunches somewhat resembling grapes. The
sassafras tree grows plentifully in common with others ;
but amongst them none is more useful to the inhabitants
than a species of maple, distinguished by the name of
SCO [ ^9 ] SCO
■ia Sco- the sugar tree, as affording a considerable quantity of
tia' that valuable ingredient. See Sugar.
Amongst the natural productions of Novia Scotia, it
is necessary to enumerate their iron-ore, which is sup¬
posed equally good with that found in any part of A-
merica.
Limestone is likewise found in many places ; it is
extremely good, and is now much used for building :
independent of which, it gives the farmers and land¬
holders a great advantage for improving the ground,
as it is found by experience to be one of the most ap¬
proved things in the world for that purpose.
Several of the useful and most common European
fruits have been planted in many places; so that the
province now produces great quantities of apples, some
pears, and a few plums, which are all good of their
kinds, especially the former. The smaller fruits, such
as currants, gooseberries, &c. grow to as great perfec¬
tion as in Europe ; and the same may be said of all the
common and useful kinds of garden plants. Among
these their potatoes have the preference, as being the
most serviceable in a country abounding with fish ; and
indeed they are not to be exceeded in goodness by any
in the world. The maize, or Indian corn, is a native
of much warmer climates ; and, though planted here,
never arrives at more than two-thirds of its natural
bigness; a defect which arises as wTell from the short¬
ness of the summer as the gravelly nature of the soil.
Tobacco may likewise be cultivated with ease in No¬
va Scotia, as it is already everywhere in Canada,
from Lake Champlain to the isle of Orleans, for the
purpose of internal consumption.
This country is not deficient in the animal produc¬
tions of the neighbouring provinces, particularly deer,
beavers, and otters. Wild fowl, and allmanner of game,
and many kinds of European fowls and quadrupeds,
have from time to time been brought into it and thrive
well. At the close of March the fish begin to spawn,
when they enter the rivers in such shoals as are incre¬
dible. Herrings come up in April, and the -sturgeon
and salmon in May. But the most valuable appendage
of New Scotland is the Cape Sable coast, along which
is one continued range of cod-fishing banks and excel¬
lent harbours. This fishery employs a great number of
men,in someseasonsnotlessthan 10,000, when 120,000
quintals are caught, of which 40,000 may be exported.
These, at the lowest price, must bring into the colony
26,000/. sterling, either in cash or in commodities ne¬
cessary to the inhabitants. But this estimation, it
must be observed, refers to a distant period, as that
trade has now greatly increased.
Notwithstanding the comparatively uninviting ap¬
pearance of this country, it was here that some of the
first European settlements were made. The first grant
of lands in it was given by James I. to his secretary
Sir William Alexander, from whom it had the name
of Nova Scotia or Netv Scotland. Since that period it
has frequently changed proprietors, sometimes in the
possession of the French, and sometimes in that of the
English.
In 1604, the French first settled in Nova Scotia, to
which they gave the name of Acadia. Instead of fix¬
ing towards the east of the peninsula, where they would
have had larger seas, an easy navigation, and plenty of
cod, they chose a small bay, afterwards called French
Bay, which had none of these advantages. It has been Nova Seo*
said that they were invited by the beauty of Port Royal, tia-
where a thousand ships may ride in safety from every
wind, where there is an excellent bottom, and at all
times four or five fathoms of water, and eighteen at the
entrance. It is more probable that the founders of this
colony were led to choose this situation, from its vici¬
nity to the countries abounding in furs, of which the
exclusive trade had been granted to them. This con¬
jecture is confirmed by the following circumstance—
that both the first monopolizers, and those who suc¬
ceeded them, took the utmost pains to divert the at¬
tention of their countrymen, whom an unsettled dis¬
position, or necessity, brought into these regions, from
the clearing of the woods, the breeding of cattle, fish¬
ing, and every kind of culture; choosing rather to en¬
gage the industry of these adventurers in hunting or
in trading with the savages.
This colony was yet in its infancy when the settle¬
ment, which has since become so famous under the name
of Nnv England, was first established in its neighbour¬
hood. The rapid success of the plantations in this new
colony did not much attract the notice of the French.
This kind of prosperity did not excite any jealousy be¬
tween the two nations. But when they began to sus¬
pect that there was likely to be a competition for the
beaver trade and furs, they endeavoured to secure to
themselves the sole property of it, and were fortunate
enough to succeed.
At their first arrival in Acadia, they had found the
peninsula, as well as the forests of the neighbouring
continent, peopled with small savage nations, who went
under the general name of Abemkies. Though equally
fond of war as other savage nations, they were more
sociable in their manners. The missionaries easily in¬
sinuating themselves among them, had so far inculcat¬
ed their tenets as to make enthusiasts of them. At
the same time that they taught them their religion, they
inspired them with that hatred which they themselves
entertained for the English name. This fundamental
article of their new worship, being that which made
the strongest impression on their senses, and the only
one that favoured their passion for war, they adopted
it with all the rage that was natural to them. They
not only refused to make any kind of exchange with
the English, but also frequently disturbed and rava¬
ged the frontiers of that nation.
This produced perpetual hostilities between the New
Englanders and the French settlers in Acadia, till that
province was, at the peace of Utrecht, for ever ceded
to the English, who seemed not for a long time to dis¬
cover the value of their new acquisition. They resto¬
red to it its ancient name of Nova Scotia; and having
built a slight fortification at Port-Royal, which they
called Annapolis in honour of Queen Anne, they con¬
tented themselves with putting a very small garrison in¬
to it. In process of time, however, the importance of
Nova Scotia to the commerce of Great Britain began
to be perceived; and at the peace of 1749, the mini¬
stry offered particular advantages to all persons who
chose to go over and settle in Acadia. Every soldier,
sailor, and workman, was to have 50 acres of land for
himself, and ten for every person he carried over in his
family. All non-commissioned officers were allowed 80
for themselves, and 15 for their wives and children ;
4 D 2 ensigns
SCO
[
Nova Sco¬
tia.
Scotland.
| About
30,410/.
8s. lOd.
Sterling.
ensigns 200; lieutenants 300; captains 400; and all
officers of a higher rank 600 ; together with 30 for
each of their dependents. The land was to be tax free
for the first ten years, and never to pay above one livre
two sols six deniers * for fifty acres. Besides this, the
government engaged to advance or reimburse the ex¬
penses of passage, to build houses, to furnish all the
necessary instruments for fishery or agriculture, and
to defray the expenses of subsistence for the first year.
These encouragements determined 3740 persons, in
the month of May 1749, to go to America, in hopes
of bettering their fortune.
Thus encouraged, the province of Nova Scotia be¬
gan to flourish, though in 1769 it sent out only 14 ves¬
sels and 148 boats, which together amounted to 7324
tons, and received 22 vessels and 120 boats, which to¬
gether made up 7006 tons. They constructed three
sloops, which did not exceed 110 tons burden. Their
exportation for Great Britain and for the other parts
of the globe did not amount to more than 729,850
livres 12 sols 9 deniers. f Continuing, however, true
to its allegiance when the other colonies threw off the
dominion of Great Britain, it has now become a place
of great consequence both to the mother country and
the West Indies. Its shipping and seamen have ra¬
pidly increased, as well as its produce, which affords
the pleasing prospect of being able to supply itself
with all the necessaries of life. It now supplies Bri¬
tain with timber and flsh to the amount of 50,000/.
580 ] SCO
yearly ; and receives from hence linen and woollen Scotists,
cloths to the value of anout 30,000/. The number of II
persons who have abandoned their habitations in the Scotland<
more southern provinces, and settled either there or
in Canada, is very great. The population of Nova
Scotia was estimated by Mr Colquhoun in 1812, at
100,000 ; and it is without doubt the most convenient
in point of situation of any province of America for a
maritime power of Europe to be possessed of.
Scotia, in Architecture, a semicircular cavity or
channel between the tores in the bases of columns.
SCOTISTS, a sect of school divines and philoso¬
phers, thus called from their founder J. Duns Scotus,
a Scottish cordelier, who maintained the immaculate
conception of the Virgin, or that she was born without
original sin, in opposition to Thomas Aquinas and the
Thomists.
As to philosophy, the Scotists were, like the Thom¬
ists, Peripatetics (see Peripatetics) ; only distinguish¬
ed by this, that in each being, as many different qua¬
lities as it had, so many different formalities did they
distinguish ; all distinct from the body itself, and mak¬
ing as it were so many different entities; only these
were metaphysical, and as it were superadded to the
being. The Scotists and Thomists likewise disagreed
about the nature of the divine co-operation with the
human will, the measure of divine grace that is ne¬
cessary to salvation, and other abstruse and minute
questions, which it is needless to enumerate.
SCOTLAND.
Extent and QCOTLAND, the modem name of that part of the
boundaries. island of Britain which lies to the north of the
Solway frith and the river Tweed. It is bounded on
the north by that part of the Atlantic called the North¬
ern ocean ; on the east by the German ocean or North
sea; on the west by the Atlantic ocean, and partly by
the Irish sea; and on the south by England, the bound¬
ary on this side being formed by the river Tweed, the
Cheviot hills, and an ideal line drawn south-west down
to the Solway frith. Excluding the islands, the con¬
tinental part of Scotland extends from the Mull of
Galloway in the 55th to Cape Wrath in the 58J de¬
gree of north latitude, and from 1° 35' to 6° 20' west
from the meridian of Greenwich, counting from Bu-
channess on the east to Ardnamurchan on the west.
If we include the islands of Shetland and the Hebrides,
we shall find this part of the British empire extending
northward to 63°, and westward to the isle of St Kilda
to 8° 18' west longitude. The continental part of
Scotland is generally estimated at 260 miles in length,
and about 160 at its greatest breadth, and its superfi¬
cial contents have been computed at 27,793 square
2 miles.
Divisions. Scotland has been divided into Highlands and Low¬
lands ; but the boundaries of these are arbitrary and un¬
determined. A more natural division appears to be that
into northern, middle, and southern parts. The north¬
ern part is bounded to the south by a range of lakes, ex¬
tending from the Murray frith to the island of Mull, in
a south-west direction, and comprehends the counties
of Orkney, Caithness, Sutherland, Ross, Cromarty and
Inverness. The southern division extends northward to
the friths of Forth and Clyde, and the canal by which
they are united, and comprehends the counties of Lin¬
lithgow, Edinburgh, Haddington, Berwick, Renfrew,
Ayr, Wigton, Lanark, Peebles, Selkirk, Roxburgh,
Dumfries and Kirkcudbright. In the midland division
are included the counties of Argyll, Bute, Nairn, Mo¬
ray, Banff, Aberdeen, Mearns, Angus or Forfar,
Perth, Fife, Kinross, Clackmannan, Stirling, and
Dumbarton.
In the following table we have brought together
some of the most important circumstances respecting
the topography and statistics of these counties, viz.
the county toivn, their extent in square acres, their ‘po¬
pulation, according to the latest accounts, and the
number of militia which each county is obliged to raise>
according to last militia act.
• ^ rkK‘>n/ilrf.uiy lirth
f-'ctluil.uhl /'/,
LitfcX&a/f
fUUluufatA
lninn,/y/i/ l*<t. ^
Stroma
Skeias^***
Jurravi
ll'I'i I I
\J%ifkaY
Vumbunf Ilf
Ifem-ft,
\jBrenu/L
^<Vtv/u\
,i/nurr,iy
'J)orri&fe
%< tin I UK*.
Jr.tibitU
S Afikotrm
^Forbes.
\Marrun
ftb>ur
p? ULdmskittM'
0[\m*rv j€i
tinpifontiy j
Otery
^ \Kin&re
) Skene*
Zltr'aric
InjPermOi
pgrasleen
Fwjuo'tus
fonehav
s^FT>r\-F^m
CraUfour ^ "
\n ^ Ap R
/•t/rr,i //'J
imru/r,
'CarmJch
Fete ton,1
/slppuv
,Lli,
jjjftibusc
o l,nun ha v
iri* >/ro °Monzie
0Kilmi>re
vhtdreMS-
ii/uir
fbwie
{'fhurtbi
ahnart
^Wt
Ai/,/t,‘/nti
7/Jaffan.
*nessA
zXintohk
, Peeble s
K S
T i^^;//7/wov'
St&oaffoen^tljttn PLn^oA\~^r
X ^
FouqltiJjo J&b&}
Sard on, Xfijldstrdflm
F/oP/lituu
^—(linthn
^ s /'i;
Sfauchtinei.
*
ftidtei\Fe
ir/o/U
Juirfttin
thst/etoH'n
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? fries
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o no las
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SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
581
Scotland.
Counties.
Orkney and Shetland
Caithness
Sutherland
Ross
Cromarty
Inverness
Argyle
Bute
Nairn
Murray
Banff
Aberdeen
Mearns
Angus
Perth
Fife
Kinross
Clackmannan
Stirling
Dumbarton
Linlithgow
Edinburgh
Haddington
Berwick
Renfrew
Ayr
Wigton
Lanark
Peebles
Selkirk
Roxburgh
Dumfries
Kirkcudbright
County Towns.
Square Acres.
Population
in 1801.
Kirkwall
Wick
Dornoch
Dingwall
Cromarty
Inverness
Inverary
Rothsay
Nairn
Elgin
Banff
Aberdeen
Bervie
Forfar
Perth
Cupar
Kinross
Culross
Stirling
Dumbarton
Linlithgow
Edinburgh
Haddington
Dunse
Renfrew
Ayr
Wigton
Lanark
Peebles
Selkirk
Jedburgh
Dumfries
Kirkcudbright
492.800 E.
2,148,000 E.
561,200 E.
61,440 E.
2,944,000 E.
2,432,000 E.
238,080 E.
153.600 E.
537.600 E.
649.600 E.
718,816 E.
243,444 E.
593,920 E.
4,068,640 E.
322.560 E.
43,920 E.
25,600 E.
450.560 E.
159,356 E.
57,008 S.
230.400 E.
224,000 E.
326.400 E.
322.560 E.
1,152,000 E.
238,721 S.
556.800 E.
153.600 E.
128,000 E.
472,320 E.
1,088,000 E.
440,081 S.
46.824
22,609
23,117
53,525
3,052
74,292
75,700
11,791
8,257
26,705
35,807
123,071
26,349
99,127
126,366
93,743
6,725
10,858
50.825
20,710
17,844
122,954
29,986
30,206
78,056
84,306
22,918
147,796
8,717
5,070
33,712
54,597
29,211
| Population
Militia, in 1811.
121
100
270
16
384
364
61
43
138
179
640
136
511
653
484
35
56
163
107
94
645
154
155
404
436
119
751
45
25
178
284
151
}
46,153
23,419
23,629
60,853
78,336
85,585
12,033
8,251
28,108
36,668
135,075
27,439
107,264
135,093
101,272
7,245
12,010
58,174
24,189
19,451
148,607
31,164
20,779
92,596
103,954
26,891
191,752
9,935
5,889
37,230
62,960
33,684
C Ross and
\ Cromarty*
1,604,826 8902 | 1,805,688
For a topographical account of the several counties,
the reader is referred to their names in the order of
4 the alphabet.
Face of the Scotland is in general extremely mountainous, espe-
■Duntry, cially on the northern and western sides, whence these
parts have been denominated the Highlands. Even the
eastern and southern parts of the country have very
little of that uniform flatness which distinguishes some
parts of England, but are agreeably diversified with hill
and dale. Numerous rivers intersect the country; and
several romantic lakes are found at the foot of the most
remarkable mountains. There is in general little wTood,
except in the northern parts, where there are still im¬
mense forests. Nothing can appear more wild and sa¬
vage to the eye of a stranger than the Highlands of
Scotland. Here the whole country seems composed
of blue rocks and dusky mountains heaped upon each
other, with their sides embrowned with heath, and
their summits covered with snow, which lies unthawr-
ed for the greater part of the year, or pours down their
jagged sides in a thousand torrents and roaring cata¬
racts, falling into gloomy vales or glens, some of which
are so deep and narrowr as to be altogether impene¬
trable by the rays of the sun. Yet even these moun¬
tains are in some places sloped into agreeable green
hills fit for pasture, and interspersed with pleasant
straths or valleys capable of cultivation ; and there are
several extensive districts of low fertile ground, though
in other parts the interstices of the mountains are ren¬
dered nearly impassable by bogs and morasses. The
entrance into the Highlands from the south-east near
Dunkeld, is peculiarly impressive, there being here
a considerable tract of plain, extending to what may
be called the gates of the mountains.
5 The
Note.—The writers on Scottish topography have noted the extent of the several counties, sometimes in Eng¬
lish, and sometimes in Scotch acres. We have therefore affixed to the numbers expressing the acres of each
county, E or S, according as they are English or Scotch. The reader may reduce them to either standard,
by recollecting that the Scotch acre exceeds the English nearly in the proportion of five to four.
582 SCOTLAND.
Scotland. The sciJi of Scotland, which, considering the little
u“"~y—variety of the country, is extremely various, will be
go.j 5 best understood by examining that of the several coun¬
ties, as described under their respectiveheads. In some
parts, as the carse of Gowrie in Perthshire, and most of
the counties of Haddington and Berwick, the soil vies
in fertility with the richest parts of England, or even
Ireland, while in the more mountainous tracts of Ross-
shire, Sutherland, and Argyle, the country is very lit¬
tle adapted to tillage, and is therefore almost wholly
devoted to pasturing large flocks of sheep and herds of
6 black cattle.
Mountains. The principal mountains of Scotland are those of the
Grampians, extending from Loch Lomond to Stone¬
haven, and forming the southern boundary of the High¬
lands ; the Leadhills, partly in Dumfries-shire and partly
in Lanark-shire ; the Cheviot hills, forming the princi¬
pal part of the southern boundary, and the Ochil hills,
north of the river Forth. The highest individual moun¬
tains are those of Ben Nevis, Cairngorum,Ben Lawers,
Ben More, Ben Lomond, Schehallien, Mount Battock,
and Cruachan. The situation and direction of the
mountainous chains, and the minerals which they con-
7 tain, have been described under Geology, N° 140.
Bays and The most remarkable inlets of the sea on the Scottish
gulfs. coasts are, the friths of Forth, Tay, Solway, Murray,
Cromarty, Dornoch, and Clyde, and the bays of Wig-
ton and Glenluce. Many of what are called lochs, are
properly large gulfs or inlets of the sea, especially Loch
8 Fine, Loch Shin, Loch Broom, and Loch Linnhe.
Rivers. The chief rivers of Scotland are the Forth, that di¬
vides Stirling and Fife from the Lothians; the Tay, di-
vidingPerth-shire and Angus-shire from Fife-shire; the
Tweed, forming the boundary between Scotland and
England to the east; the Clyde, passing through great
part of Lanark-shire, and separating this county from
those of Renfrew and Dumbarton ; the Dee and the
Don, passing through Aberdeen-shire ; the Spey, sepa
rating the counties of Banff and Murray ; the Nith,
passing through Dumfries-shire, and the Eden in the
county of Fife. See each under their respective
9 names.
Lakes. The lakes or lochs of Scotland, are chiefly those of
Lomond in Dumbarton-shire, Awe, in Argyle-shire,
Tay, Katrine, and Erne, in Perth-shire ; Loch Ness
in Inverness-shire; and the classical lake of Leven in
ia Kinross-shire. See Leven, Lomond, Tay, &c.
forests. We have said that Scotland is in general bare of
wood, though there are numerous traces of its having
formerly abounded in forests. The most remarkable of
these was Ettrick forest in the county of Selkirk; the
forest of Mar in the west of Aberbeen-shire, where still
remains a considerable tract of woodland, called Aber-
nethy forest; the forest of Sletadale to the north of
Dun-Robin in the county of Sutherland; those of Dir-
rymore and Dirrymena, to the north and south of
Loch Shin, and the forest of Athol in the county of
jj Perth.
Climate The climate of Scotland is, if possible, still more in-
andseasous. constant than that of England; and though in general
extremely healthy to the robust mountaineer, it is by no
means genial to the valetudinarian. The eastern coast
is exposed to the keenness of the east wind during the
greater part of the year, while the western shores, from
their vicinity to the Atlantic, are deluged with almost
perpetual rain. The winter in this country is remark- ScotlamB
able, rather for the abundance of snow which falls atv—
that season, than for the intensity of frost; while in
summer the heat of the sun is reflected w'ith great
violence in the narrow vales between the mountains, so
as sometimes to occasion the appearance of glittering
particles that seem to swim before the eye. The bare¬
ness of wood adds to the effects of sudden alternations of
the weather, though it contributes to diminish the natu¬
ral humidity of the air. The spring is in general very
late and inclement, so as not unfrequently to destroy
the fairest prospects of the farmer and the gardener.
The harvests are also late ; and we have seen corn ei¬
ther uncut, or standing in sheaves on the field, in the
latter end of November. 12
The zoology of Scotland, as distinguished from that Animal;
of England, offers little remarkable to the eye of the
naturalist. In the northern counties, and in Gallowny
to the south, there is a breed of small horses, like the
Welsh ponies, called shelties, which are extremely
hardy but obstinate and skittish. The cattle in Gal¬
loway are often without horns ; a circumstance which
is said to add to the quantity and quality of the milk
which they produce. One of the chief primitive breeds
of cattle in this country are the kylies, so called from
the province of Kyle. These are of a middle size, and
have short sharp horns pointing upwards. The Scotch
sheep are smaller and shorter than those of England,
but their flesh is much more delicate; and the fleeces of
the Shetland sheep are remarkable for the fineness of
their wool. Goats are not nearly so common in the
Highlands of Scotland as in most other mountainous
tracts, and swine are very little cultivated, pork not be¬
ing a favourite food among the inhabitants of North
Britain. There seems to be no breedof dogs peculiarto
this country; but the colies or shepherds dogs are re¬
markable for their sagacity, and are often entrusted
with the guardianship of flocks and herds during their
master’s absence. There are scarcely any wild qua¬
drupeds peculiar to Scotland. The wolf, indeed, con¬
tinued here to a much later period than in England,
and the wild cat is occasionally observed. Small herds
of roes also are still found in some of the northern dis¬
tricts, and seals and porpoises frequent the sea coasts.
Of the native birds, the black cock and the grouse
are the most remarkable. Eagles are often seen on the
rocky cliffs, and elegant falcons in the remaining fo¬
rests. The shores and islands present numerous sea
fowl, and the isle of Bass is proverbially the haunt of
the solan goose. The golden-crested wren is sometimes
seen in the most northern parts of the country; but
the nightingale has never yet appeared north of the
Tweed.
The shores of Scotland are abundantly supplied with
fish, especially herrings, haddocks, turbots, and lobsters;
and the mouths of the great rivers, especially the Tweed
and the Tay, furnish an inexhaustible supply of the
finest salmon. Oysters are plentiful, but they are not
so delicate as those on the coast of Essex. Mackerel,
whitings, and smelts, are uncommon ; and sprats are
scarcely known. The lakes and streams abound in
trout, perch, and other fresh-water fish. The whale
sometimes appears on the northern coast, and the bask¬
ing shark on the western inlets. 15
The vegetable productions of Scotland, considered in Vegeiab1-
general,
SCOT
Scotland. ge.nera]} difFer little From those of England; and those
-'-V'"—'of the whole island may be seen by referring to the ar¬
ticle Botany, where each British species is marked
with an asterisk. We may remark, that the warm,
moist regions of Cornwall, Devonshire, and Dorset; the
range of chalk hills that forms the greater part of the
banks of the Thames ; the dry sandy tracts of Norfolk,
Suffolk, and Cambridge ; and the fens of Lincolnshire,
contain many plants that are either unknown, or very
rarely met with in North Britain ; while on the other
hand, the snowy summits of the Grampians, the exten¬
sive forests of Badenoch and Braemar, and the bleak
unsheltered rocks of the Hebudes, possess many hardy
vegetables not to be found in the southern parts of the
island. South Britain contains a greater number of
species peculiar to itself; but those that are similarly
circumstanced in this northern division, are of more fre¬
quent occurrence. To the English botanist, Scotland
will have more the air of a foreign country than Eng¬
land to a Scottish botanist. The researches of the for¬
mer will be continually solicited, and repaid amid the
grand romantic scenery of the Highlands, by the ap¬
pearance of plants either altogether new to him, or
which he has been accustomed to consider as the rare
reward of minute investigation. In traversing the natu¬
ral forests of birch and pine, though his attention will
be first attracted by the trees themselves in every stage
of growth, from the limber sapling to the bare and
weather-beaten trunks that have endured the storms of
500 or 600 winters ; the new' forms of the humbler ve¬
getables will soon divide his attention, and will each at¬
tract a share of his regard. It would be an uninterest¬
ing task both to us and our readers, to enumerate the
plants more peculiar to Scotland. These may be
found in Lightfoot’s Flora Scolica, and many of them
in Mr Pinkerton’s Geography.
Scotland is by no means remarkable for abundance of
fruit. Gooseberries, strawberries, and raspberries, do
indeed ripen nearly as well as in England ; and apples,
pears, and some species of wall-fruit, as Orleans plums
and apricots, are not uncommon ; but peaches, necta¬
rines, and grapes, are scarcely seen in the open air ; and
in the best gardens we have not observed the walnut, the
mulberry, or the fig. Even the currants, which are
very abundant, scarcely ever attain that degree of ripe¬
ness which can fit them for use as a dessert, but are
employed almost entirely for jellies and wines. The
14 chief fruit districts are those on the banks of the Clyde.
Minerals. Few countries possess a greater store of subterraneous
riches than Scotland ; most of the metals, and some of
the most valuable minerals, being very common. Even
gold itself has been found in the Leadhills, in the sands
of Elvan, a rivulet which joins the Clyde, and in the
Ochil hills; and a considerable quantity of silver is an¬
nually obtained from the lead mines of Leadhills and
Wanlockhead. Copper is rare ; but has been met with
near Alva in the Ochills ; at Colvcnd in Galloway,
and some other places. The most remarkable lead
mines are those of Leadhills and Wanlockhead, Stron-
tian and Islay; but traces of this metal have been found
in other parts. Iron is a most abundant mineral pro¬
duction, but that called the Carron ore is best known.
Cobalt is found at Alva; calamine (an impure oxide
of zinc) at Wanlockhead ; plumbago or graphite in
Ayrshire ; and antimony in Dumfries-ghire.
LAND. 583
Among rhe other minerals, coal is to be regarded as Scotland.
the most abundant and most valuable. We have al-1 v—
ready remarked, under Geology, that one of the two
chief beds of coal found in this island, is that which runs
from the valley traversed by the Tay and the Forth,
westward to the coast of Ayrshire. The Lothians and
Fifeshire particularly abound with coal; and it is not
less abundant in the vicinity of Glasgow, and in seve¬
ral places of the counties of Ayr and Renfrew.
Scotland may be called the quarry of Britain,t as
hence is derived most of the stone that is carried to lie
south for building and paving. Abundance of free¬
stone and limestone is found in most parts of the coun¬
try ; and the beauty and durability of the houses in
the New Town of Edinburgh bear ample testimony
to the value of the quarries in that neighbourhood.
Beautiful granite is found in Ben Nevis, and fine sta¬
tuary marble in Asynt, and in Blairgowrie in Perth¬
shire. A black marble freckled with white occurs at
Fort William ; jasper is found in various parts ; fullers
earth occurs near Campbeltown, and considerable
quantities of talc in the mountains of Findhorn. The
beautiful quartz of Cairngorum is well known, and
numerous pebbles of agates and onyxes are frequently
collected on the eastern coast. 15
The mineral waters of Scotland are numerous ; but Mineral
the principal are those of Moffat, Peterhead, St Ber-waters,
nard’s well near Edinburgh, and Pitcaithly. At Mof¬
fat are two springs, one a sulphureous, and the other
from Hartfell a chalybeate water. The water at St
Bernard’s well is strongly impregnated with sul-
phur. > 16
Many singular natural curiosities are to be found in Natural
Scotland. Among these the beautiful falls of the Clyde,curiotiitieSi
the insulated rock of the Bass, the scenery about Loch
Lomond, and the isles of Staffa, Eigg, and Cannay, are
chiefly deserving of notice. In the isle of Arran is an
immense vaulted cavern, hollowed in the solid rock ;
and near Colvend in Dumfries-shire, and on the east¬
ern coast of Fife, are several remarkable caves. Noss
head presents a singular quarry of slate, marked with
metallic figures ; and at Glamma in the heights of
Glenelchraig, is a cascade, which, viewed amidst the
constant darkness of hills and woods, is truly sublime.
In the parish of Gaurie in Banffshire are three re¬
markable natural curiosities ; a perpendicular rock of
very great extent full of shells, which are possessed by
myriads of birds ; a cave, or rather den; called Hell's
lum or chimney, 50 feet deep, 60 long, and 40 broad,
having a subterraneous passage to the sea, about 240
feet long, through which the waves are driven with
great violence in stormy weather, so as to occasion'
smoke to rise from the den ; and another subterraneous
passage through a peninsula from sea to sea, nearly
450 feet long, and so narrow that a man can with
difficulty creep through it. At one end of this passage-
is a cave about 20 feet high, SO broad, and 150 long, ,
supported by immense columns of rock. j?
There are three principal groups of Scottish islands ; Scottish
those of Shetland and Orkney, to the north of the Pent-islands,
land frith, and that of the Hebudes, Hebrides, or
Western Isles, in the Western Atlantic. An ample ac¬
count of these will be found under the articles He¬
brides, Orkney, and Shetland ; and under the
names of the principal individual islands. The isles
of
584
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, of Bute and Arran, which are distinct from the He-
brides, have also been described under their respective
lg names.
Names of The name Scotland, as applied to North Britain, is
North I3ri- comparatively of recent date. By the later Roman
tain. writers, Scotia wras applied to Ireland, as the country
which had been colonized by the Scoti, and the names
of Hiberni and Scoti are, after the 4th century of the
Christian era, indiscriminately applied to the inhabi¬
tants of Ireland. When North Britain first became
known to the Romans under Agricola, it was by them
denominated Caledonia, from its abounding in forests,
and the natives were called Caledonii. These names
continued in use till the extirpation of the Roman power
in Britain, when this part of the island was generally
known by the name of Provincia Pictorum, and the in¬
habitants were divided inte Picti-Caledonii, and Picti.
It is not till the 11th century that we find Scotia or
Scotland appropriated to North Britain.
With respect to the origin of this name there is much
dispute; but it is generally agreed that the term Scots
was applied to the inhabitants of North Britain by their
19 neighbours, by way of reproach.
Aborigines Few points have been disputed with more keenness
«f Scotland.an(j more asperity than the original population of Scot¬
land. The Irish and the Scotch have strenuously con¬
tested the claim of their country to be the stock from
which the other was colonized. There seems no doubt
that both Britain and Ireland were originally peopled
by the Celtic tribes, who had long before occupied the
west of Europe, and advanced from the shores of Gaul,
probably across the straits of Dover, to take possession
of the southern part of Britain. Thence it appears they
extended themselves northwards, till they had peopled
the whole island, when, from a spirit of enterprise, or
to find more room and better pasture for their herds,
they crossed the channel to the west of Britain, and
planted a colony in Ireland. This seems to be their
most natural route; and numerous authorities have been
lately adduced to prove, not only that the whole of
Britain and Ireland were peopled by Celtic tribes, but
that the colonization of Ireland was subsequent to that
of Scotland. “ This region (North Britain) during the
first century, ” says Mr Chalmers, “ is a small but
genuine mirror of Gaul during the same age. North
Britain was inhabited by one-and-twenty clans of
Gaelic people, whose polity, like that of their Gaelic
progenitors, did not admit of very strong ties of poli¬
tical union. They professed the same religious tenets
as the Gauls, and performed the same sacred rites ;
tbeir stone monuments were the same, as we know
from remains. Their principles of action, their modes
of life, their usages of burial, were equally Gaelic;
* Caledo- and above all, their expressive language, which still
nia, vol. i. exists for the examination of those who delight in such
P ^ore’ was Purest Celtic. ” *
Names and The names and position of the 21 tribes which occu-
situations pied North Britain in the first century, have been mi-
ofthe Ab°-nutely investigated by Mr Chalmers, and we shall here
briefly state the result of his investigations. The first
tribe which he mentions is that of the Ottadini, who
possessed the Country which stretches from the river
Tyne northward along the coast of the German sea and
the frith of Forth. On the west of these lay the Ga-
riginal
tribes.
deni, occupying the western part of Northumberland, Seotlaij
that small portion of Cumberland which lies to the—v-
north of the river Irthing; the west of Roxburghshire,
the whole of Selkirk and Tweeddale, part of Mid Lo¬
thian, and nearly the whole of West Lothian, or Lin¬
lithgow. To the south-west of the Gadeni lay the Sel-
gova, inhabiting Annandale, Nithsdale, and Fskdale in
Dumfries-shire ; the eastern part of Galloway as far as
the river Dee, which formed their western boundary ;
while to the south they extended to the Solway frith.
The Novantes inhabited the western and middle parts
of Galloway, from the Dee on the east to the Irish sea
on the west. The Damnii occupied the whole extent of
country from the ridge of hills lying between Galloway
and Ayrshire on the south, to the river Earn on the
north, comprehending all Strathcluyd, the counties of
Ayr, Renfrew, and Stirling, with a small part of Dum¬
barton and Perth. The Horestii inhabited the country
lying between the Forth and Tay, including the shires
of Fife, Clackmannan, and Kinross, with the eastern
part of Strathearn, and the country lying westward of
the Tay, as far as the river Brand. The Venricones pos¬
sessed the country between the Tay and the Carron,
comprehending a great part of Perthshire, the whole of
Angus, and part of Kincardineshire. The Taixali in¬
habited the northern part of the Mearns, and the whole
of Aberdeenshire, to the Doveran ; a district which in¬
cluded the promontory of Kinnaird’s-head, to which the
Romans gave the name of Taixalorum promontorium.
The Vacanagi occupied the country on the south side of
the Murray frith, from the Doveran on the east, to the
Ness on the west: an extent comprehending the shires
of Banff, Elgin, Nairn, the east part of Inverness, with
Braemar in Aberdeenshire. The Albani, afterwards
called Damnii Albani, inhabited the interior districts,
between the lower ridge of the Grampians on the south,
and the chain of mountains forming the southern limit
of Inverness-shire on the north, including Braidalban,
Athol, a small part of Lochaber, with Appin and
Glenorchy in Upper Lorn. The Attacotti inhabited the
whole country from Loch Fine on the west, to the east¬
ward of the river Leven and Loch Lomond, compre¬
hending the whole of Cowal in Argyleshire, and the
greater part of Dumbartonshire. The proper Caledonii
possessed the whole of the interior country, from the
ridge of mountains which separates Inverness from Perth
on the south, to the range of hills that forms the forest
of Balnagavan on the north, comprehending all the
middle parts of Inverness and of Ross. The Canta in¬
habited the east of Ross-shire from the aestuary of Var-
rar on the south, to the frith of Dornoch on the north,
having the frith of Cromarty in the centre, and a ridge
of hills on the west. The south-eastern coast of Suther¬
land was inhabited by the Logi, whose country extended
from the frith of Dornoch on the south-west to the river
Ila on the east. The Carnabii inhabited the south of
Caithness from the Ila river; the small tribe of the Ca-
ieni inhabited the north-west corner of- Caithness; and
the Mert<e occupied the interior of Sutherland. The
Carnonacx inhabited the north and west coast of Su¬
therland, while the Creones occupied the west coast of
Ross-shire, the Cerones the western coast of Inverness,
and the Epidii the south-west of Argyleshire, from
Loch Linnhe to the frith of Clyde.
3 All
S C 0 T I, A N D.
58.5
Scotland. All tliese Celtic tribes, !r> their laws, religion, man.
u—v ners, and customs, appear to have resembled the Bri¬
tons of the south. Their life was equally simple, their
Druid'cal
antiquities
1 Caledo-
22
itobert-
on’sdivi-
ion of the
icottish
'iitoiy.
manners were equally savage, and their religion, like
in Scotland, that of the South Britons, was certainly Druidical.
See England, N° 4, and the article Druids. The
fact of Druids having existed in North Britain, so
strenuously denied by some writers, is, in the opinion
of Mr Chalmers, completely ascertained by numerous
remains of places of Druidical worship. These he has
been at much pains to investigate, and has described
several remarkable circles of stones and rocking stones,
resembling in almost every particular those in South
Britain, which are on all hands allowed to be Druidi¬
cal. Some remarkable remains of this kind occur in
the parish of Kirkmichael in Perthshire, where there
is an immense rocking stone standing on a flat-topped
eminence in the vicinity of a large body of Druidical
remains. Opposite to the manse of Dron, in the same
county, there is another large rocking stone, ten feet
long and seven broad; and in the parish of Abernethy,
near Balvaird, there is a third which attracted the no¬
tice of Buchanan. In the stewartry of Kirkcudbright
is a stone of a similar description, called Logan stone,
which from its size appears to be eight or ten tons in
j . weight, and is so nicely balanced on two or three pro-
“yg0, ' tuberances, that the pressure of the finger produces a
rocking motion from the one side to the other, f
It has been remarked by Dr Robertson, that the his¬
tory of Scotland may properly be divided into four pe¬
riods. The first reaches from the origin of the monar¬
chy to the reign of Kenneth II.; the second, from Ken¬
neth’s conquest of the Piets to the death of Alexander
III.; the third extends to the death of James V.; the
last, from thence to the accession of Janies VI. to the
crown of England. In the opinion of the same histo¬
rian, the first period, extending from the earliest ac¬
counts to the year 843 of the Christian era, is the re¬
gion of pure fable and conjecture, and ought to be to¬
tally neglected, or abandoned to the industry and cre¬
dulity of antiquaries; that in the second period from
843 to 1286, truth begins to dawn with a light feeble
at first, but gradually increasing, and that the events
which then happened may be slightly touched,, but
merit no particular or laborious enquiry ; that in the
third period, from 1286 to 1542, the history of Scot-
land, chiefly by means of records preserved in Eng¬
land, becomes more authentic, as not only events are
related, but their causes and effects are explained ;
and here every Scotchman should begin, not only to
25 read, but to study the history of his country.
■oauthen- It must be allowed that most of the transactions re-
’ Scotti i cor(^e^ by Buchanan and Boece, as having taken place
story prV. in Scotland before the Christian era, are either purely
ous to the fabulous, or are substantiated by no authentic docu-
hffstian ments; and we cannot but contemplate with the smile
of incredulity, the long and minute list of Scottish mo-
narchs from Fergus I. to Fergus II., so pompously dis¬
played by these historians. That the names of 39 princes
should be handed down with correctness by uncertain
traditions, for a period of 690 years; that the duration
of their reigns and the date of their accession should be
so exactly ascertained, is surely a circumstance of the
highest improbability; and we are compelled to believe
that the earlier writers of Scottish history, like the Chi¬
nese annalists, have described the transactions of the
You. XVIII. Part II.
An. 80.
same monarch under different names, or under the same Scotland,
names with the designation of I, II, HI, &c. This is l--—v'-—'
rendered the more probable by considering that both
Fergus I. and Fergus II. are said to have been of Irish
extraction, and to have come over from Ireland to as¬
sist the inhabitants of North Britain against their more
powerful neighbours. Under the persuasion that no¬
thing authentic can be recorded in the Scottish history
before the arrival of the Romans in Britain, we shall
commence the historical part of this article from the pe¬
riod when 'Agricola first penetrated north of the Tweed.
It is to the luminous pages of Tacitus that we must
look for the first rational and authentic documents of
Scottish history. 24
The invasion of Agricola happened during the domi- Invasion of
nion of a chief, called by the Roman historians Scotland
Agrieola having completed the conquest of thesouthern l*
part, and in a great measure civilized the inhabitants,
formed a similar plan with regard to Scotland. It is
probable, that at this time the Caledonians had become
formidable by the accession of numbers from the south;
for though the Romans had civilized the greatest part,
it cannot be doubted that many of those savage warriors,
disdaining the pleasures of a peaceable life, would re¬
tire to the northward, where the martial disposition of
the Caledonians would better suit their inclination.
The utmost efforts of valour, however, wrere not proof
against the discipline of the Roman troops, and the ex¬
perience of their commander. In the third year Agri¬
cola had penetrated as far as the river Tau, (probably
the Solway Frith, and not the Tay); but the particulars
of his progress are not recorded. The follow ing year
he built a line of forts between the friths of Forth and
Clyde, to exclude the Caledonians from the southern
parts of the island; and the year after, he subdued those
parts which lay to the south and wrest of his forts, name¬
ly, the districts of Galloway, Cantyre, and Argyle.
Agricola still pursued the same prudent measures by
which he had already secured the possession of such a
large tract of country, that is, advancing but slowly,
and building forts as he advanced, in order to keep the
people in obedience. The Caledonians, though com¬
manded by their king Galgacus, who is said to have
been well acquainted with the manner of fighting and
discipline of the Romans, were yet obliged to retreat;
but at last, finding that the enemy made such progress
as endangered the subjugation of the whole country, he
resolved to cut oft' their communication with the south¬
ern parts, and likewise to prevent all possibility of a
retreat by sea. Agricola, though solicited by some
of his officers, refused to retreat; but divided his
troops into three bodies, having a communication with
each other. Upon this, Galgacus resolved to attack
the weakest of the three, which consisted only of the
ninth legion, and lay at that time, as is said, at a place
called Lcchore, about twro miles from Loch-Leven m
Fife. The attack was made in the night: and as the
Romans were both unprepared and inferior in number,
the Caledonians penetrated into the heart of their
camp, and were making a great slaughter, when Agri¬
cola detached some light-armed troops to their assist¬
ance ; by whom the Caledonians in their turn wrere
routed, and forced to fly to the marshes and inacces¬
sible places, where the enemy could not follow them.
This engagementlias been magnified by the Roman
historians into a victory, though it can scarcely be ad-
f 4 E mitted
586 SCOT'
Scotland, milted as such from the testimonies of other historians.
J The Romans, however, certainly advanced very consi¬
derably, and the Caledonians as constantly retreated,
till they came to the foot of the Grampian mountains,
where the latter resolved to make their last stand. In
the eighth year of the war, Agricola advanced to the
25 foot of the mountains, where he found the enemy ready
Great vie- to receive him. Tacitus has given us a speech of Gal-
tory gained gacus, undoubtedly fabricated for him, in which he sets
by the Ito- t}ie aspiring disposition of the Romans, and en¬
courages his countrymen to defend themselves vigorous¬
ly, as knowing that every thing valuable was at stake.
A desperate engagement accordingly ensued. In the
beginning, the Britons had the advantage, by the dex¬
terous management of their bucklers: but Agricola
having ordered three Tungrian and two Batavian co¬
horts, armed with short swords, and embossed bucklers
terminating in a point, to attack the Caledonians, who
were armed with long swords, the latter soon found
these weapons useless in a close encounter ; and as their
bucklers covered only a small part of their bodies,
they were easily cut in pieces by their adversaries.
The most forward of their cavalry and charioteers fell
back upon their infantry, and disordered the centre:
but, the Britons endeavouring to out-flank their ene¬
mies, the Roman general opposed them with his horse;
and the Caledonians were at last routed with great
slaughter, and forced to fly into the woods, whither the
Romans pursued with so little caution, that numbers
of them were cut off. Agricola, however, having order¬
ed his troops to proceed more regularly, prevented the
Caledonians from attacking and cutting off his men in
separate parties, as they had expected; so that this
victory proved the greatest stroke to the Caledonians
that they had hitherto received. This battle is sup¬
posed by some to have been fought in Strathern, half
a mile south from the kirk of Comrie ; but others ima¬
gine the place to have been near Fortingal-Camp, a
place somewhat farther on the other side of the Tay.
Great as this victory was, it seems not to have been
productive of any solid or lasting advantage to the Ro¬
mans ; since we find that Agricola, instead of putting
an end to the war by the immediate conquest of ail
Caledonia, retreated into the country of the Horestii.
Here he received hostages from part of the Caledo¬
nians ; and ordered part of his fleet to sail round Bri¬
tain, that they might discover whether it was an island
or a continent. The Romans had no sooner left that
part of the country, than the Caledonians demolished
all the forts they had raised : and Agricola being soon
after recalled by Domitian, the further progress of the
Roman arms was stopped; Galgacus proving superior
to any of the successors of that general.
From the time of Agricola to that of Adrian, we
know little of the affairs of Scotland, excepting that
during this interval the Caledonians must have entirely
driven the Romans out of their country, and reconquer¬
ed all that tract which lay between Agricola’s chain of
forts and Carlisle on the west, and Newcastle or Tin-
mouth-bar on the east; which Adrian, on visiting Bri¬
tain, thought proper to fix as the northern boundary
g6 of the Roman dominions. Here he built a w^all of turf
Wall built between the mouth of the Tine and the Solway frith,
i>y Adrian, with a view to shut out the barbarians; which, however,
An. 120. did not answer the purpose, nor indeed could it be
.AND.
thought to do so, as it was only built of turf, and Scotlam
guarded by not more than 18,000 men, wrho could not>r-
be supposed a sufficient force to defend such an ex¬
tent of fortification. ^ j
In the reign of Antoninus Pius, the propraetor Lol- Govern-
lius Urbicus drove the Caledonians far to the north-ment of
ward, and repaired the chain of forts built by Agricola,
which lay between the Carron on the frith of Forth An. is;
and Dunglass on the Clyde. These were joined toge¬
ther by turf walls, and formed a much better defence
than the wrall of Adrian. After the death of Antoni¬
nus, however, Commodus having recalled Calpurnius
Agricola, an able commander, who had kept the Cale¬
donians in awe, a more dangerous wrar broke out than
had ever been experienced by the Romans in that quar¬
ter. The Caledonians having passed the wall, put all
the Romans they could meet with to the sword: but
they were soon repulsed by Ulpius Marcellus, a general
of consummate abilities, whom Commodus sent into the
island.—In a short time the tyrant also recalled this able
commander. After his departure, the Roman discipline
in Britain suffered a total relaxation; the soldiery grew
mutinous, and great disorders ensued: but these were
happily removed by the arrival of Clodius Albinus, a
person of great skill and experience in military affairs.
Flis presence for some time restrained the Caledonians
within proper bounds : but a civil war breaking out
between him and Severus, Albinus crossed over to the
continent with the greatest part of the Roman forces in
Britain; and meeting his antagonist at Lyons, a dread¬
ful battle ensued, in which Albinus was utterly defeat¬
ed, and his army cut in pieces. See Rome, N° 375. as
The absence of the Roman forces gave encourage-Warsof.1
ment to the Caledonians to renew their depredations,'0™*^
which they did with such success, that the emperor be-^jj^
came apprehensive of losing the whole island; on which An. 20;
he determined to go in person and quell these trouble¬
some enemies. The army collected by him on this
occasion was far more numerous than any the Romans
had ever sent into Britain; and being commanded by
such an able general as Severus, it may easily be sup¬
posed that the Caledonians must have been reduced
to great difficulties. The particulars of this important
expedition are very imperfectly related; but we are
assured that Severus lost avast number of men, it is said
not fewer than 50,000, in his march through Scotland.
Notwithstanding this, however, he is said to have pene¬
trated to the most northern extremity of the island, and
obliged the enemy to yield up their arms. On his re¬
turn, he built a much stronger fortification to secure
the frontiers against the enemy than had ever been done
before, and which in some places coincided with Adrian’s
wall, but extended farther at each end. But in the
mean time the Caledonians, provoked by the brutality
of the emperor’s son Caracalla, whom he had left regent
in his absence, again took up arms; on which Severus
himself took the field, with a design, asappears, to extir¬
pate the whole nation; for he gave orders to his soldiers
“ not to spare even the child in the mother’s belly.”
The event of the furious order is unknown : but in all
probability the death of the emperor, which happened
soon after, put a stop to the execution of this revenge;
and it is certain that his son Caracalla, who succeeded
Severus, ratified the peace with the Caledonians.
After the treaty of Caracalla in 211, perpetual hosti¬
lities
SCOTLAND.
587
50
lets.
31
ppear-
ice of
colony
nn Ire-
nd,
leotland. lities occurred between the Romans and Caledonians,
—v——' assisted by the Piets. The inroads of' these northern
29 tribes were repelled by the Roman legions under Con-
ms from stantius, and after his death in 306, they appear to
i to 446. have remained quiet till 343, when a fresh inroad of the
Piets is said to have been repelled by Constans. In
the year 360, the Scotch are first mentioned by Roman
writers. They were, as we have said, an Irish people
of Caledonian extraction, and at this time invaded
Scotland, and joined with the Piets against the Ro*
mans and their tributaries. In 364 they made a very
formidable attack on the Roman provincials, and in 367
had advanced as far as Augusta, or London, where they
were met by Theodosius, and were compelled to retire.
From this time to 446, when the Romans finally quit¬
ted the British island, nothing remarkable occurs in
the history of Scotland.
Of the Piets, who now begin to make a figure in
Scottish history, we have given an account under the
article Picts, and shall here remark only that the name
Picti does not properly belong to a new or distinct tribe
of the inhabitants of North Briton, but was applied
about this time to a part of the Caledonians who in¬
habited a considerable tract of country north of the
friths of Forth and Clyde ; and that the dominion of
their kings, of whom a long list is given by Mr Chal¬
mers, extended from the year 451 to 842, when it
finally terminated.
In the middle of the second century, one of those
turbulent tribes which long involved Ireland in contest
and dissension, possessed themselves of the north-east
corner of Ireland, under the conduct of Cairbre-Riada;
An. 505. and from the name of their leader gave to this district
the denomination of Dal-Riada, or the portion of Ri-
ada. The sixth century had scarcely commenced, when
the progress of population and the spirit of enterprise
induced a number of the inhabitants of Dal-Riada to
emigrate to the opposite coast of North Britain, led
by three chiefs, Loarn, Fergus, and Angus, the three
sons of Ere, the descendant of Cairbre-Riada, who
then ruled over the Dalriadan tribe. They landed in
the country of the Epidii, in the south-west of Argyle-
shire, about the year 503. These colonies, who to the
time of Bede, were denominated Dalriadini, brought
with them their language, religion, manners and cus¬
toms, which differed in some respects from those of
the Celtic tribes which had long occupied the north of
Britain.
In the records of time there scarcely occurs a period
of history so perplexed and confused as that afforded by
the annals of the Scoto-Irish tribes, from their settlement
in 503 to their ultimate ascendency in 843. The want
of cotemporaneous writings left an ample field for the
conflicts of national emulation. Ignorance and inge¬
nuity, sophistry and system, contributed by various ef¬
forts to darken what was already sufficiently obscure.
There remain, however, in the sister island, vai’ious
documents of subsequent compilation, which throw con¬
siderable light on the obscure transactions of the Scoto-
Irish tribes, and enable us to unravel the entangled ge¬
nealogies of their kings. These consist chiefly of the
Irish annals of Tigernoch and of Ulster, with the useful
observations on them of O’Flaherty and O’Connor ; of
several brief chronicles and historical documents first
brought to light by Innes; and of a Gaelic poem, con¬
taining a genealogical account of the Scoto-Irish kings. Scotland.
From these documents Mr Chalmers has constructed v"—
an elaborate genealogical and chronological table of
those kings, from Fergus to Kenneth Macalpin, from
which we shall extract the two most important columns,
showing the date of accession, and the duration of the
reigns of the several monarchs.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
Fergus the son of Ere,
Domangart the son of Fergus,
Comgal, son of Domangart,
Gauran, son of Domangart,
Conal, son of Comgal,
Aidan, son of Gauran,
Eocha-bui, the son of Aidan,
Kenneth-cear, son of Eocha-bui,
Ferchar, son of Eogan, first of
Loam’s i*ace,
Donal-breac, son of Eocha-bui,
Conal II. grandson of Conal I.
Dungal reigned some years with Co¬
nal,
Donal-Duin, son of Conal,
Maolduin, son of Conal,
Ferchar Fada,grandson of Ferchar I.
Eocha-Rineval, son of Domangart,
Ainbhcealach, son of Ferchar-Fada,
Selvach, son of Ferchar-Fada, reign¬
ed over Loarn from 706 to 729,
Duncha-beg over Kintire till 720,
Eocha III. son of Eocha-rinwal over
Kintyre and Argail from 720 to
729, and over Loarn from 729 to
733,
Muredach, son of Ainbhcealach,
Eogan, son of Muredach,
Aodh-Fin, son of Eocha III.
Fergus, son of Aodh-Fin,
Selvach II. son of Eogan,
Eocha-Anneune IV. son of Aodh-
Fin,
Dungal, son of Selvach II.
Alpin, son of Eocha-Annuine IV.
Keneth, son of Alpin,  
Acces¬
sions.
503
506
511
535
557
571
605
621
621
637
642
652
665
681
702
705
706
733
736
739
769
772
796
826
833
836
Reigns,
3
5
24
22
14
34
16
16
5
10
13
16
21
3
1
27
3
3
30
3
24
30
7
3
7
We shall not attempt to follow Mr Chalmers through
the detail of events which he has narrated as taking
place during the reigns of the Scoto-Irish kings. What¬
ever light he may have thrown on this obscure part of
Scottish history, it must still remain uninteresting, ex¬
cept to the antiquary, and the minute historian. It is
of more importance to the general reader, to be inform¬
ed of the manners and customs, the polity and the laws
of the tribes that occupied the chief part of North Bri¬
tain at the accession of Kenneth II. from whose reign,
as we have already remarked, the Scottish history be¬
gins to dawn.
We have said that the Dalriadinian colonists brought Laws and
with them from Ireland, and established in their new set- customs of
tlements, their peculiar laws and customs. According s<:oto-Irislj
to these laws, the succession both of the kings and chief-tri es‘
4 E 2 tains
588 SCOTLAND.
Scotland, tains was "o regulated, that the person in the family who
seemed best qualified, from abilities or experience, to
exercise the chief authority, whether a son or a brother,
was fixed on by the tribe for the succession to the va¬
cant throne or chieftainship. Much of the dignity of
the monarch was supported by the voluntary contribu¬
tions of his vassal princes and chiefs, paid in cattle,
eiqthes, and utensils; and the monarch was compelled
to purchase the service and assistance of these chiefs by
similar presents ; in consideration of which they enter¬
tained the sovereign in his journeys, and served him in
his wars during a limited period. A similar polity ap¬
pears to have pervaded all ranks among the Scoto-Irish
people, from the king to the prince, and from the prince
to the chieftain. The toparch governed his district as
the monarch governed his kingdom; and the chieftains
ruled their territories and their fortified villages, on the
same principles of mutual dependence, of the higher
on the lower, and of the subordinate on the superior
ranks. Such brittle ties were easily broken ; and dur¬
ing these rude times, when the voice of law was but
faintly heard, the performance of those reciprocal duties
could be enforced only by the dread of assassination,
and the breach of them punished only by the sword.
The Scoto-Irish women, of whatever rank, seem not
to have been entitled to the slightest possession of land,
under the Brehon law. To them were assigned a cer¬
tain number of their father’s cattle as their marriage-
portion. The herds of the Scoto-Irish were so fre¬
quently within their contemplation, and during a rude
state of society supplied so many comforts to their pos¬
sessors, that the native terms which signify possession,
or a field, also convey the idea of a herd or drove. Yet
such is the copiousness of the Irish language, that it has
a great variety of terms which convey the notion of a
law ; but we may infer from these law-terms, with their
several modifications, that the people of whom we are
speaking had little of positive statute, or written law ;
their whole body of jurisprudence consisting almost en¬
tirely of traditionary customs, and local usages. Ac¬
cording to Cox,, it was no written law, but only the
will of the brehon or lord. And it is observable that
these brehons held their offices by descent and inheri¬
tance, and of course were not qualified for the posts to
which he succeeded. The brehon or judge, when he
administered justice, used to sit on a turf or heap.of
stones, or on the top of a hillock, without covering,
and without clerks, or any of the usual formalities of a
court of judicature. Some remains of this state of laws
and manners may be traced in some parts of Scotland
to the present period. Every baron had his mote-hill,
whence he distributed justice to his vassals, either in
person, or by his baron-bailie. Under the brehon sys¬
tem all crimes were commutable ; theft, rape, and even
murder, were punished by a fine.
It was an ancient custom of these tribes, that every head
of every sept, and the chief of every clan, should be an¬
swerable for each of their sept or kindred, when charged
with any crime ; and it is remarkable that both in Ire¬
land and Scotland this ancient custom was adapted into
the statute book. The protection of bees was a great
head of the brehon law. The Scoto-Irish territories
were fully peopled by this industrious race, and their
honey supplied abundance of mead, the favourite beve-
tage of the ancient Britons. In vain do the Irish anti¬
quaries give us splendid pictures of the learning, opu- Scotlamj
lence, and refinement, of the ancient Irish ; the laws' 
of every people are the truest histories of their domestic
affairs. While we see that the wealth of these tribes
consisted of their bees and their cattle, w^e may cer¬
tainly infer, that they had only advanced from the first
to the second stage of society, from hunters to feeders
of flocks. In this unrefined state the Scoto-Irish long
continued, as is evident from their rent-rolls.
It is apparent that more of wretchedness than of com¬
fort prevailed among the Dalriadinian districts in every
rank of society. Their best houses were built of wattles ;
and buildings of lime and stone were late works of
more intelligent times. The clothing even of the
monks was the skins of beasts, though there is no doubt
that they obtained from abroad, by means of traffic,
both woollen and linen stuffs. Venison and fish, the
flesh of seals, and milk, constituted the food of the
people ; but the monks of Iona, who lived by their la¬
bour, and perhaps the chief, had some provision of corn.
The most unbounded hospitality was enjoined by law,
as well as by manners, as a capital virtue. Manufac¬
tures and trades exercised as a profession were unknown.
Every family had its own carpenter, weaver and shoe-
njaker, however unskilful and inadequate to the uses of
civilization these homely workmen might appear.
The Scoto-Irish tribes were not destitute of shipping,
which consisted partly of canoes, and partly of a more
skilfully constructed kind of vessels called currachs.
These were formed by covering a keel of wood and a
frame of wicker-work, with skins of cattle and of deer,
and by experience these rude boats were improved in¬
to roomy vessels, that served either for transports or
for war.
Of the various customs of the Scoto Irish, that of
fosterage has been regarded as a subject for particular
speculation. By this singular custom, children were mu¬
tually given from different families to be nursed by stran¬
gers. The lower orders considered this trust as an ho¬
nour, rather than a service, for which an adequate re¬
ward was either- given or accepted. The attachment of
those who were thus educated is said to have been indis¬
soluble; for, according to Camden, there is no love in
the world comparable to that of foster-brethren in Ire-* Chdt-
land. From this practice arose a connexion of family,mTSfc'
and a union of tribes, which often prompted and some-^0’^'
times prevented evil feuds. * 5.5
The Dalriadinian tribe which colonized the south State of
west of Scotland, in the beginning of the sixth century,'‘o10^11
professed the Christian religion, which had been intro-
duced into Ireland in the middle of the preceding cen¬
tury. They did not, however, introduce into Scotland
a new religion, for there is reason to believe that the
benign influence of Christianity had been felt in those
parts of North Britain which were inaccessible to the
Roman power so early as the beginning of the third
century; and the Romanized Britons of Valencia, call¬
ed by Bede the southern Piets, had been converted from
the superstitions of Druidism at the commencement of
the fifth century. This reformation is attributed to St
Ninian, a native of the Country of the Novantes, bom
of noble parentage, about the year 360. (See Ninja.)
St Ninian died on the 16th September 432; on which-
day a festival in honour of his name was celebrated in
Britain for many ages. About the middle of the sixth
1 century.
SCOT
otland. century, appeared Kentigern, a Christian bishop, who
nr—‘'fixed his residence at Alcluyd, in the kingdom of Cum¬
bria. He contributed much towards improving the
state of religion in North Britain, where he continued
his instructions with little interruption till the year 601.
Contemporary with Kentigern was the celebrated Co-
lumba, who converted the northern Picls, and has al¬
ways been held in the highest veneration as one of the
principal saints in the North British calendar. He
established the seat of his ecclesiastical academy in the
small island of Hy, or Iona, which had been confer¬
red on him either by Connal, king of the Scoto-Irish,
or Bridei, the Pictish sovereign. Here he settled with
his 12 disciples, and laboured for two years with their
own hands in erecting huts, and building a church.
In the course of a few years Columba had converted
Bridei, king of the Piets, and most of his subjects,
and had established monasteries in several parts of the
34 Caledonian territories. (See Columba}.
• s be- Before entering on the reign of Kenneth, it may be
i 'll the proper to take a short view of that of his father and pre-
! s and jecessorj Alpin,as in his reign commenced those bloody
conflicts between the Scots and Piets which finally ter¬
minated in the subjugation or expulsion of the latter.
At the accession of Alpin, the dominion of the Scots
comprehended the Western islands, together with the
districts of Argyle, Knapdale, Kyle, Kintyre, Locha-
ber, and a part of Breadalbane; while the Piets possessed
all the rest of Scotland, and part of Northumberland;
so that the Piets seem to have been by much the more
powerful people of the two. The Scots, however, ap¬
pear to have been superior in military skill; for Al¬
pin, the successor of Dongal, having engaged the Piet-
ish army near Forfar, after an obstinate engagement
defeated them, and killed their king, though not with¬
out the loss of a great number of his own men. The
Piets chose Brudus, the son of their former king, to
succeed him ; but soon after deposed and put him to
death, on account of his stupidity and indolence. His
brother Kenneth shared the same fate on account of
his cowardice; till at last another Brudus, a brave and
spirited prince, ascended the throne. Having raised a
powerful army, he began with offering terms of peace
to the Scots ; which, however, Alpin rejected, and in¬
sisted on a total surrender of his crown. Brudus on
this endeavoured to procure the assistance of Edwin
king of Northumberland. Edwin accepted the money
offered by Brudus; but pretending to be engaged in
other wars, refused the assistance which he at first pro¬
mised. Brudus, not dismayed by this disappointment,
marched resolutely against his enemies; and the two ar¬
mies came to an engagement near Dundee. The supe¬
rior skill of the Scots in military affairs wras about to
have decided the victory in their favour, when Brudus
thought of the following stratagem to preserve his army
from destruction. He caused all the attendants, and
even the women who attended his army, to assemble and
show themselves at a distance as a powerful reinforce¬
ment coming to the Piets. This struck the Scots with
such a panic, that all the efforts of Alpin could not re-
■] cover them, and they were defeated with great slaugh-
(1 ited** ter. Alpin himself was taken prisoner, and soon after
a their beheaded by order of the conqueror. This execution
k Wled. happened at a place now called Pit-alpy, but in former
I, A N D. 589
times Bas-alpin, which in the Gaelic language signifies Scotland-
the death of Alpin. His head was afterwards stuck v  
upon a pole, and exposed on a wall. ~r>
Alpin was succeeded by his son Kenneth II. who Reign of
being a brave and enterprising prince, resolved to take Kenneth
a most severe revenge for his father’s death. The11,
Scots, however, were so dispirited by their late de¬
feat, that they were exceedingly averse to any renew¬
al of the war ; while, on the other hand, the Piets were
so much elated, that they made a law by which it be¬
came death for any man to propose peace with the
Scots, whom they resolved to exterminate; and some
of the nobility were expelled the council on account
of their opposition to this law. The consequence of
this was, that civil dissensions took place among them,
and a bloody battle was fought between the opposite
parties, before the Scots had thought of making any
farther resistance.
By these distractions Brudus, who had in vain en¬
deavoured to appease them, was so much affected, that
he died of grief, and was succeeded by his brother
Drusken.—The new prince also failed in his endea¬
vours to accommodate the civil differences ; so that the
Scots, by gaining respite, ai, last began to recover from
their consternation ; and some of them having ventured
into the Pictish territories, carried off Alpin’s head
from the capital of their dominions, supposed to have
been Abernethy. In the mean time, Kenneth found
means to gain over the nobility to his side by the fol¬
lowing stratagem ; which, however ridiculous, is not
incredible, if we consider the barbarism and superstition
of that age. Having invited them to an entertainment, StratUem
the king introduced into the hall where they slept a per-of Kenneth
son clothed in a robe made of the skins of fishes, which*0 ren‘'w
made such a luminous appearance in the dark, that hetlie 'var‘ ■
was mistaken for an angel or some supernatural messen¬
ger. To add to the terror of those who saw him, he
denounced, through a speaking trumpet, the most ter¬
rible judgments, if war was not immediately declared
against the Piets, the murderers of the late king. In
consequenceof this celestial admonition, war was imme¬
diately renewed with great vigour. The Piets were not
deficient in their preparations, and had now procured
some assistance from England. The first battle was
fought near Stirling ; where the Piets, being deserted
by their English auxiliaries, were utterly defeated.
Drusken escaped by the swiftness of his horse, and a few
days after made application to Kenneth fora cessation of
hostilities ; but as the Scottish monarch demanded a sur¬
render of ail the Pictish dominions, the treaty was in¬
stantly broken off. Kenneth pursued his good fortune,
and conquered the counties of Mearns, Angus, and Fife; .
but as he marched against Stirling, he received intelli¬
gence that these counties had again revolted, and cut oft’
all the garrisons which he had left, amVthat Drusken
was at the head of a considerable army in these parts.
On this Kenneth hastened to oppose him, and a nego¬
tiation again took place. The result was equally unfa¬
vourable with the rest. Kenneth insisted on an absolute
surrender of the counties of Fife, Mearns, and Angus;
and as this was refused, both parties prepared for a de¬
cisive battle. "Hie engagement was very bloody and des¬
perate, the Piets fighting like men in despair. Drusken
renewed the battle seven .times; but at last was en¬
tirely.
590
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, tirely defeated and killed, and the counties in dispute
v —■-y 1 became the immediate property of the conqueror.
Kenneth did not fail to improve his victory, by re*
ducing the rest of the Pictish territories ; in which he
is said to have behaved with the greatest cruelty, and
even to have totally exterminated the inhabitants. The
capital, called Camelon, (supposed to have been Aber-
nethy), held out four months ; but was at last taken
by surprise, and every living creature destroyed. This
was followed by the reduction of the Maiden Castle,
now that of Edinburgh ; which was abandoned by the
garrison, who fled to Northumberland.
After the reduction of these important places, the
rest of the country made no great resistance, and Ken¬
neth became master of all the kingdom of Scotland in
the present extent of the word ; so that he is justly to
be esteemed the true founder of the Scottish monar¬
chy. Besides this war with the Piets, Kenneth is said
to have been successful against the Saxons, though of
these wars we have very little account. Having reign¬
ed 16 years in peace after his subjugation of the Piets,
and composed a code of laws for the good of his peo¬
ple, Kenneth died of a fistula, at Fort Teviot, near
Duplin in Perthshire. Before his time the seat of the
Scots government had been in Argyleshire ; but he re¬
moved it to Scone, by transferring thither the famous
black stone, supposed to be the palladium of Scotland,
and which was afterwards carried off by Edward I. of
38 England, and lodged in Westminster abbey.
Donald II. Kenneth was succeeded by his brother Donald, who
n. 8o9. -s represente(j as a man 0f tbe worst character; so that
the remaining Piets who had fled out of Scotland were
encouraged to apply to the Saxons for assistance, pro¬
mising to make Scotland tributary to the Saxon power
after it should be conquered. This proposal was ac¬
cepted ; and the confederates invaded Scotland with a
powerful army, and took the town of Berwick; how¬
ever, they were soon after defeated by Donald, who
took their ships and provisions. This capture proved
their ruin; for some of the ships being laden with
wine, the Scots indulged themselves so much with that
liquor, that they became incapable of defending them¬
selves ; in consequence of which the confederates, ral-
39 lying their troops, attacked them in that state of in-
defeafedb toxicati°n* The Scots were defeated with excessive
the Saxons, slaughter. Twenty thousand of the common soldiers
lay dead on the spot; the king and his principal nobi¬
lity were taken prisoners, and all the country from the
Tweed to the Forth became the property of the con¬
querors. Still, however, the confederates found them¬
selves unable to pursue their victory farther; and a peace
was concluded, on condition that the Saxons should be¬
come masters of all the conquered country. Thus the
Forth and Clyde became the southern boundaries of
the Scottish dominions. It was agreed that the Forth
should from that time forward be called the Scots sea;
and it was made capital for any Scotsman to set his
foot on English ground. They were to erect no forts
near the English confines ; to pay an annual tribute of
a thousand pounds, and to give up 60 of the sons of
their chief nobility as hostages. A mint was erected
by the Saxon prince named Osbreth, at Stirling; and
a cross raised on the bridge at that place, with the fol¬
lowing inscription, implying that this place was the
boundary between Scotland and England;
Anglos a Scotis separat crux ista remotls ?
Anna hie slant Britti, slant Scoti sub hac crucc tuli.
Scotian
After the conclusion of this treaty, so humiliating to
the Scots, the Piets, finding that their interest had
been entirely neglected, fled to Norway, while those
who remained in England were massacred. Donald
shared the common fate of unfortunate princes, being
dethroned and shut up in prison, where he at last put
an end to his own life in the year 858 In justice to
this unhappy monarch, however, it must be observed,
that the character of Donald, and indeed the whole ac¬
count of these transactions, rests on the credit of a single
author, namely Boece; and that other writers represent
Donald as a hero, and successful in his wars : but the
obscurity in which the whole of this period of Scottish
history is involved, renders it impossible to determine
any thing satisfactorily concerning these matters.
Donald was succeeded by his nephew Constantine, Reign o
the son of Kenneth Mac Alpin, in whose reign Scot- Constan
land was first invaded by the Danes, who proved such A^Ingg
formidable enemies to the English. This invasion is
said to have been occasioned by some exiled Piets who
fled to Denmark, where they prevailed upon the king
of that country to send his two brothers, Hungar and 41
Hubba, to recover the Pictish dominions from Con-®cotS(le
stantine. These princes landed on the coast of Fife,^^
where they committed the most horrid barbarities, not
sparing even the ecclesiastics who had taken refuge in
the isle of May at the mouth of the Forth. Constan¬
tine defeated one of the Danish armies commanded by
Hubba, near the water of Leven ; but was himself
defeated and taken prisoner by Hungar, who caused
him to be beheaded at a place since called the Devil's
Cave, in the year 874.
This unfortunate action cost the Scots 10,000 men :
but the Danes seem not to have purchased their victory
very easily, as they were obliged immediately afterwards
to abandon their conquest, and retire to their own coun¬
try. However, the many Danish monuments that are
still to be seen in Fife, leave no room to doubt that
many bloody scenes have been acted here between the
Scots and Danes, besides that above mentioned. 42
Constantine was succeeded by his brother Eth, sur-Eth.
named the Svoift-footed, from his agility. Concerning Al1,
him we find nothing memorable; indeed the accounts
are so confused and contradictory, that it is impossible
to form any decisive opinion concerning the transactions
of this reign. All agree, however, that it was but
short; and that he was succeeded by Gregory the son
of Dongal, contemporary with Alfred of England, and
that both princes deservedly acquired the name of Great. ^
The Danes at their departure had left the Piets in pos-E f
session of Fife. Against them Gregory immediately Gregor;
marched, and quickly drove them into the north ofthe Gre
England, where their confederates were already masters Al1,8
of Northumberland and York. In their way thither
they threw a garrison into the town of Berwick; but
this was presently reduced by Gregory, who put to the
sword all the Danes, but spared the lives of the Piets.
From Berwick, Gregory pursued the Danes into Nor¬
thumberland, where he defeated them ; and passed the
winter in Berwick. He then marched against the
Cumbrians, who being mostly Piets were in alliance
with the Danes. He easily overcame them, and obli¬
ged
SCOT
cotland. ged them to yield up all the lands they had formerly
■'Y—' possessed belonging to the Scots, at the same time that
he agreed to protect them from the power of the Danes.
In a short time, however, Constantine the king of the
Cumbrians violated the convention he had made, and
invaded Annandale; but was defeated and killed by
Gregory near Lochmaben. After this victory Gregory
entirely reduced the counties of Cumberland and West¬
moreland, which, it is said, were ceded to him by Al¬
fred the Great; and indeed the situation of Alfred’s
affairs at this time renders such a cession by no means
improbable.
We next find Gregory engaged in a war with the
Irish, to support Donach, an Irish prince, against two
rebellious noblemen. The Irish were the first aggres¬
sors, and invaded Galloway; but being repulsed with
great loss, Gregory went over to Ireland in person,
where the two chieftains, who had been enemies to
each other before, now joined their forces in order to
oppose the common enemy. The first engagement
proved fatal to one of their chiefs named Brian, who
was killed with a great number of his followers. After
this victory Gregory reduced Dundalk and Drogheda.
On his way to Dublin he was opposed by a chieftain
named Cornell, who shared the fate of his confederate,
being also killed, and his army entirely defeated. Gre¬
gory then became guardian to the young prince whom
he came to assist, appointed a regency, and obliged
them to swear that they would never admit into the
country either a Dane or an Englishman without his
consent. Having then placed garrisons in the strongest
fortresses, he returned to Scotland, where he built the
city of Aberdeen; and died in the year 892, at his
44 castle of Dundore in the Garioch.
nald Gregory was succeeded by Donald III. the son of
l- Constantine, who imitated the virtues of his predeces-
n. 893. sor> Thg Scots historians unanimously agree that Nor¬
thumberland was at that time in the hands of their
countrymen ; while the English as unanimously affirm
that it was subject to the Danes, who paid homage to
Alfred. Be this as it will, however, Donald continued
to live on good terms with the English monarch, and
sent him a body of forces, who proved of considerable
advantage to him in his wars with the Danes. The
reign of Donald was but short; for having marched
against some robbers (probably Danes) who had in¬
vaded and ravaged the counties of Murray and Ross,
he died at Forres soon after, having defeated and sub¬
dued them in the year 903. He was succeeded by Con¬
stantine III. the son of Eth the Swift-footed, con¬
cerning w'hom the most remarkable particular which
45 we find related is his entering into an alliance with the
istan- Danes against the English. The occasion of this con-
r! into ^e<^eracy *s sa^ to liave been, that the English monarch,
Mance Edward the Elder, finding the Scots in possession of the
i the northern counties of England, made such extravagant
,les demands on Constantine as obliged him to form an alli-
ance with the Danes in order to preserve his dominions
a. 904. security. However, the league subsisted only for
two years, after which the Danes found it more for
their advantage to resume their ancient friendship with
the English.
As soon as Constantine had concluded the treaty
with the Danes, he appointed the presumptive heir to
the Scottish cro^n3 Malcolm, or, according to some,
3
LAND. 591
Eugene the son of the late king Donald, prince of the Scotland.
southern counties, on condition of his defending them 
against the attacks of the English. The young prince
had soon an opportunity of exerting his valour : but
not behaving with the requisite caution, he had the
misfortune to be defeated, with the loss of almost all his
army, he himself being carried wounded out of the
field ; and in consequence of this disaster, Constantine
was obliged to do homage to Edward for the possessions
he had to the southward of the Scots boundary.
In the beginning of the reign of Athelstan the son
of Edward the Elder, the northern Danes were encou¬
raged by some conspiracies formed against that mo¬
narch to throw oft the yoke : and their success was
such, that Athelstan thought proper to enter into a
treaty with Sithric the Danish chief, and to give him
his daughter in marriage. Sithric, however, did not
long survive his nuptials ; and his son Guthred endea¬
vouring to throw oft’ the English yoke, was defeated,
and obliged to fly into Scotland. This produced a
series of hostilities between the Scots and English
which in the year 938 brought on a general engage¬
ment. At this time the Scots, Irish, Cumbrians, and
Danes, were confederated against the English. The
Scots were commanded by their king Constantine, the
Irish by Anlaff the brother of Guthred the Danish
prince, the Cumbrians by their own sovereign, and the
Danes by Froda. The generals of Athelstan were Ed¬
mund his brother, and Turketil his favourite. The
English attacked the entrenchments of the confede¬
rates, where the chief resistance which they encountered 4g
was from the Scots. Constantine was in the utmost rs utterly
dangerof being killed or taken prisoner, but was rescued defeated by
by the bravery of his soldiers: however, after a most ob- ‘I1® EnS-
stinate engagement, the confederates were defeated withllsh-
such slaughter, that the slain are said to have been innu¬
merable. The consequence of this victory was, that the
Scots were deprived of all their possessions to the south-
wrard of the Forth ; and Constantine, quite dispirited
with his misfortune, resigned the crown to Malcolm,
and retired to the monastery-of the Culdees at St An¬
drews, where he died five years after, in 9k3i 47
The distresses which the English sustained in their Malcolm
subsequent wars with the Danes, gave the Scots an op-^1^0-
portunity of retrieving their affairs; and in the year944
944, we find Malcolm, the successor of Constantine, in¬
vested with the sovereignty of Northumberland, on con¬
dition of his holding it as a fief of the crown of England,
and assisting in defence of the northern border. Soon
after the conclusion of this treaty, Malcolm died, and 48
was succeeded by his son Indulfus. In his reign the New inva-
Danes became extremely formidable by their invasions,sions of
which they now renewed with greater fury than ever, be-t,ie Ua”e3
ing exasperated by the friendship subsisting between thej”^ n'
Scots and English monarchs. Their first descent was
upon East Lothian, where they were soon expelled, but
crossed over to Fife. Here they were a second time de¬
feated, and driven out; and so well had Indulfus taken
care to guard the coasts, that they could not find an
opportunity of landing ; till having seemed to steer to¬
wards their own country, the Scots wrere thrown off their
guard, and the Danes on a sudden made good their
landing at Cullen, in Banffshire. Here Indulfus soon
came up with them, attacked their camp, and drove
them towards their ships, but was killed in an ambus¬
cade^
592
SCOTLAND.
Scotian 4, pade, into which Tie fell during the pursuit. He was
succeeded by Duftus, to whom historians give an ex-cel-
ient character; but, after a reign, of five years, he was
murdered, in the year 9fia. Duffus was succeeded by
Culen tire son of Indulrus, who had been nominated
prince of Cumberland in his father’s lifetime, as heir-
apparent to the throne. He is represented as a very
degenerate prince ; and is said to have given himself up
to the grossest sensuality. The people in the mean
time were fleeced, in order to support the extravagance
and luxury of their prince. In consequence of this, an
assembly of the states was convened at Scone for the
resettling of the government; but on his way thither
Culen was assassinated, near the village of Methven,
by Rochard, thane or sheriff of Fife, whose daughter
49 the king had debauched.
Kenneth The provocations which Culen had given to his no¬
il F. a wlsebility seem to have rendered them totally untractable
and valiant an(j licentious ; and gave occasion to a remarkable re-
^AnTo/O volution in the reign of Kenneth III. who succeeded
Culen. This prince, being a man of great resolution,
began with relieving the common people from the op¬
pressions of the nobility, which were now intolerable ;
and this plan he pursued with so much success, that, ha¬
ving nothing to fear from the great barons, he ordered
them to appear before him at Lanark ; but the greatest
part, conscious of their demerits, did not attend. The
king so well dissembled his displeasure, that, those who
came wrere quite charmed with his aftability, and the
noble entertainment he gave them ; in consequence of
which, when an assembly was called next year, the
guilty were encouraged to appear as well as the inno¬
cent. No sooner had this assembly met, however, than
the place of meeting was beset with armed men. The
king then informed them that none had any thing to
apprehend excepting such as had been notorious of¬
fenders ; and these he ordered to be immediately taken
into custody, telling them, that their submitting to
public justice must be the price of their liberty. They
were obliged to accept the king’s offer, and the crimi¬
nals were accordingly punished according to their de¬
serts.
About this time Edgar, king of England, finding
himself pressed by the Danes, found means to unite the
king of Scotland and the prince of Cumberland with
himself in a treaty against the Danes ; which gave oc¬
casion to a report that Kenneth had become tributary
to the king of England. This, however, is utterly de¬
nied by all the Scots historians ; who affirm that Ken¬
neth cultivated a good correspondence with Edgar, as
well because he expected assistance in defending his
coasts, as because he intended entirely to alter the mode
of succession to the throne. About this time the Danes
made a dreadful invasion. Their original intention
seems to have been to land on some part of the English
coasts ; but finding these too well guarded, they landed
at Montrose in Scotland, committing everywhere the
most dreadful ravages. Kenneth was then at Stirling,
and quite unprepared ; however, having collected a
handful of troops, he cut off many of the enemy as they
were straggling up and down, but could not prevent
them from besieging Perth. Nevertheless, as the king’s
army constantly increased, he resolved to give the enemy
battle. The scene of this action was at Loncarty, near
Perth. The king is said to have offered ten pounds in
silver, or the value of it in land, for the head of every ScotkL
Dane which should be brought him ; and an immunity v J
from all taxes to the soldiers who served in his army,
provided they should be victorious : but, notwithstand-
ing the utmost efforts of the Scots, their enemies fought Danes,
so desperately, that Kenneth’s army must have been to¬
tally defeated, had not the fugitives been stopped by a 51
yeoman and his tw-0 sons, of the name of Hay, who Rise c i8
were coming up to the battle, armed with such rustic I
weapons as their condition in life afforded. Buchanan t‘rro'
and Boece inform us, that these countrymen were
ploughing in a field hard by the scene of action, and
perceiving that their countrymen fled, they loosed their
oxen, and made use of the yokes as weapons, w ith which
they first obliged their countrymen to stand, and then
annoyed their enemies. The fight was now renewed
with such fury on the part of the Scots, that the Danes
were utterly defeated ; and, after the battle, the king
rewarded Hay with the barony of Errol in the Carse of
Gown ie, ennobled his family, and gave them an armorial
bearing alluding to the rustic weapons with which they
had achieved this glorious exploit. S0) i
In the year 99^, Kenneth was murdered at the in¬
stigation of a lady named Fenella, whose son he had
caused to be put to death. The murder was perpetra¬
ted in Fenella’s castle, where she had persuaded the king
to pay her a visit. His attendants waited long near the
-place; but being at length tired out, they broke open
the doors, and found their king murdered : on which
they laid the castle in ashes ; but Fenella escaped by a
postern. The throne was then seized by an usurper
named Constantine ; who, being killed in battle after a
reign of a year and a half, was succeeded by Grime,
the grandson of king Duffus ; and he again w-as de¬
feated and killed by Malcolm the son of Kenneth, the
lawful heir of the Scottish throne. After this victory, Malcoll
murde 1
An. 1L
howover, Malcolm did not immediately assume the so- D-
vereignty ; but asked the crown from the nobles in A
consequence of a law passed in the reign of Kenneth,
by which the succession to the throne of Scotland be¬
came hereditary. This they immediately granted, and
Malcolm was accordingly crowned king. He joined
himself in strict alliance w ith the king of England; and
proved so successful against the Danes in England, that
Sweyn their king resolved to direct his whole force
against him by an invasion of Scotland. His first at¬
tempt, however, proved unsuccessful; all his soldiers
being cut in pieces, except some few who escaped to
their ships, while the loss of the Scots amounted to no
more than 30 men. But in the mean time, Duncan,
prince of Cumberland, having neglected to pay his ho¬
mage to the king of England, the latter invaded that
country in conjunction with the Danes. Malcolm took
the field against them, and defeated both ; but while
he was thus employed in the south, a new army of
Danes landed in the north at the mouth of the river 541
Spey. Malcolm advanced against them with an army The S M
much inferior in number ; and his men neglecting li.ctCp|3
every thing but the blind impulses of fury, were almostt ie I
all cut to pieces; Malcolm himself being desperately
wounded.
By this victory the Danes were so much elated, that
they sent for their wives and children, intending to set¬
tle in this country. The castle of Nairn, at that time
thought almost impregnable, fell into their hands; and
the
Scotland.
SCOTLAND.
the towns of Elgin anti Forres were abandoned both by
their garrisons and inhabitants. The Scots were everv-
corul
ittle.
garrisons auu mimoitancs. i ne ecots were every
where treated as a conquered people, and employed in
the most servile offices by the haughty conquerors ;
who, to render the castle of Nairn, as they thought,
absolutely impregnable, cut through the small isthmus
which joined it to the land. All this time, however,
Malcolm w^as raising forces in the southern counties ;
and having at last got an army together, he came up
with the Danes at Murdoch, near Balveny, w hich ap¬
pears at this day to have been a strong Danish fortifica¬
tion. Here he attacked the enemy; but having the
55 misfortune to lose three of his general officers, he was
it defeat again obliged to retreat. However, the Danish gene-
em ill a rai happening to be killed in the pursuit, the Scots were
encouraged to renew the fight with such vigour, that
they at last obtained a complete victory; but suffered
so much, that they were unable to derive from it all
the advantages which might otherwise have accrued.
On the news of this ill success, Sweyn ordered two
fleets, one from England, and another from Norway, to
make a descent upon Scotland, under the command of
Camus, one of his most renowned generals. The Danes
attempted to land at the mouth of the Forth; but find¬
ing every place there well fortified, they u'ere obliged
to move farther northward, and effected their purpose
at Redhead in the county of Angus. The castle of
Brechin was first besieged; but meeting with a stout
resistance there, they laid the town and church in ashes.
From thence they advanced to the village of Panbride,
and encamped at a place called Karboddo. Malcolm in
the mean time w^as at hand with his army, and encamped
at a place called Barr, in the neighbourhood of which
:ie Danes both parties prepared to decide the fate of Scotland; for
as Moray and the northern provinces were already in
the possession of the Danes, it was evident that a victory
at this time must .put them in possession of the whole.
The engagement was desperate, and so bloody, that
the rivulet which proceeds from Loch Tay is said to
have had its winter dyed writh the blood of the slain;
but at last the Danes gave way and fled. There wras
57 at that time in the army of Malcolm, a young man of
se of the the name of Keith. He pursued Camus; and having
overtaken him, engaged and killed him ; but another
Scots officer coming up at the same time, disputed with
Keith the glory of the action. While the dispute lasted,
Malcolm came up. who suffered them to decide it by
single combat. In this second combat Keith proved
also victorious, and killed his antagonist. The dying
person confessed the justice of Keith’s claim; and Mal¬
colm dipping his finger in his blood, marked the shield
of Keith with three strokes, pronouncing the words
Veritas vincit, “ Truth overcomes, ” which has ever
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
56
nily of
-ith.
593
since been the armorial bearing and motto of the fa- Scotland,
mily of Keith, (b) -v~—1
Sweyn, not yet discouraged, sent his son Canute, af- Ano^r
terwards king of England, and one of the greatest war-.jnvajoa>
riors of that age, into Scotland, with an army more
powerful than any that had yet appeared. Canute
landed in Buchan ; and, as the Scots were much weak¬
ened by such a long continued w ar, Malcolm thought
proper to act on the defensive. But the Scots, who
now thought themselves invincible, demanded to be led
on to a general engagement. Malcolm complied w ith
their desire, and a battle ensued ; in wffiich, though
neither party had much reason to boast of victory, the
Danes were so much reduced, that they willingly con- 59
eluded a peace on the following terms, viz. That the Peace cow-
Danes should immediately depart from Scotland ; thatc^u^c^*
as long as Malcolm and Sweyn lived, neither of them
should wage w ar with the other, or help each other’s
enemies ; and that the field in which the battle wras
fought should be set apart and consecrated for the bu¬
rial of the dead. These stipulations were punctually
fulfilled by Malcolm, w'ho built in the neighbourhood
a chapel dedicated to Olaus, the tutelar saint of these
northern nations.
After performing all these glorious exploits, and be¬
coming the second legislator in the Scottish nation,
Malcolm is said to have stained the latter part of his
reign with avarice and oppression ; in consequence of
which he was murdered at the age of 80 years, after qq
he had reigned above 30. This assassination was per- Malcolm
petrated while he was on his w ay to Glammis. His asRa‘\si-
own domestics are said to have been privy to the mur-n‘ltc
der, and to have fled along v/ith the conspirators; but
in passing the lake of Forfar on the ice, it gave way
with them, and they were all drowned. This account
is confirmed by the sculptures upon some stones erect¬
ed near the spot; one of which is still called Malcolm’s
grave-si one; and all of them exhibit some rude repre¬
sentations of the murder and the fate of the assassins.
Malcolm was succeeded, in the year 1034, by his Duncan T.
grandson Duncan L, but he is sard to have had another Vn. tost,
grandson, the famous Macbeth; though some are of
opinion that Macbeth was not the grandson of Mal¬
colm, but of Fenella w ho murdered Kenneth III. The
first years of Duncan’s reign were passed in tranquillity,
but domestic broils soon took place on the follow ing
occasion. We are told by some historians that Banquo,
a nobleman of great eminence, acted then in the capa¬
city of steward to Duncan, by collecting his rents; but
being very rigid in the execution of his office, he was
way-laid, robbed, and almost murdered. Of this out¬
rage Banquo complained as soon as he recovered of his
wmunds and could appear at court. The robbers were
f 4 F summoned
(b) Mr Gordon, in his Itinerarium Scplentrionale, observes, that in all probability the Scots gained two vic¬
tories over the Danes on the present occasion ; one near the place called Karboddo, already mentioned ; and the
other at Aberlemno, four miles from Brechin. At both places there are monuments with rude sculptures, erected
most probably in memory of a victory. That at Karboddo is called Camus’s cross; near which, somewhat more
than a century ago, a large sepulchre, supposed to be that of Camus, was discovered. It consisted of four great
stones; and had in it a huge skeleton, supposed to be that of the Danish prince. The fatal stroke seemed to
have been given him on the back part of the head; a considerable portion of the skull being cut away, proba-
<bly by the stroke of the sword. 1
594
S C O T L A N D.
Scotland
62
A new in¬
vasion by
the Danes
G3
who are
defeated.
64
Duncan
murdered
by Mac¬
beth.
■ summoned to surrender themselves to justice; but in-
J stead of obeying, they killed the messenger. Mac¬
beth represented this in such strong terms, that he tvas
sent with an army to reduce the insurgents, who had
already destroyed many of the king’s friends. This
commission he performed with such success, that the
rebel chief put an end to his own life ; after which
Macbeth sent his head to the king, and then proceed¬
ed with the utmost severity against the insurgents.
This insurrection was scarcely quelled, when the
Danes landed again in Fife; and Duncan put himself
’ at the head of an army, having the thanes Macbeth
and Banquo serving under him. The Danes were com¬
manded by Sweyn king of Norway, and eldest son of
Canute. Fie proceeded with all the barbarity natural
to his nation, putting to death men, women, and chil¬
dren, who fell in his way. A battle was fought between
the two nations near Culross, in which the Scots were
defeated : but the Danes purchased their victory so
dearly, that they could not improve it; and Duncan re¬
treated to Perth, while Macbeth was sent to raise more
forces. In the mean time Sweyn laid siege to Perth,
which was defended by Duncan and Banquo. The
Danes were so much distressed for want of provisions,
that they at last consented to treat for peace, provided
the pressing necessities of the army were relieved. The
Scots historians inform us, that this treaty was set on
foot in order to amuse Sweyn, and gain time for the
stratagem which Duncan was preparing. This was no
other than a barbarous contrivance of infusing intoxi¬
cating herbs into the liquors that were sent along with
the other provisions to the Danish camp. These so¬
porifics had the intended effect; and while the Danes
were under their influence, Macbeth and Banquo
broke into their camp, where they put all to the sword,
and it was with difficulty that some of Sweyn’s attend¬
ants carried him on board; and we are told that his
was the only ship of all the fleet that returned to Nor¬
way. It was not long, however, before a fresh body of
Danes landed at Kinghorn in the county of Fife : but
they were entirely defeated by Macbeth and Banquo.
Such of the Danes as escaped fled to their ships; but
before they departed they obtained leave to bury their
dead in Inchcolm, a small island lying in the Forth,
where one of their monuments is still to be seen.
Thus ended the formidable invasion of the Danes;
after which Duncan applied himself to the administra¬
tion of justice, and to reform the manners of his sub¬
jects.
While he was thus exerting himself for the good of
his subjects, his general, Macbeth, who had been so
much distinguished in the Danish wars, was plotting the
assassination of the king, and the usurpation of the
throne. To these purposes, it appears, Macbeth w as
instigated by his wife, the lady Gruoch, daughter of
Kenneth IV., who, as we have seen, w as slain by Mal¬
colm II., the grandfather of Duncan. This lady had
been married to Gilcomgain, the maormor of Murray,
and after his death had espoused Macbeth, the maormor
of Ross. This account of Lay Macbeth shows that it
wras a spirit of revenge for the murder of her grand¬
father, which prompted her to instigate her husband
to the assassination of Duncan. This assassination took
place in 1039, not near Inverness, as related by Shake¬
speare and the historians whom he has copied, but at
Bathgowanan, near Elgin, within the territory of Gru- Scotlaml
och. Duncan left two infant sons, Malcolm and Do- ~—v—
nald, of w'hom the former, on the death of his father,
fled to Cumberland, and the latter found an asylum in
the Western Islands. Macbeth having thus gratified
his wife’s revenge, and his own ambition, took posses¬
sion of the vacant throne. c-
During the greater part of the reign of the usurper, Reign oi
Malcolm, the true heir to the crown of Scotland, kept -Macbeth I
within his principality of Cumberland, without any^n,10,x|
thoughts of ascending his father’s throne. Macbeth
for some time governed with moderation, but at last
became a tyrant.
Among the numerous fables with which the story of
Macbeth has been decked, must be ranked the mur¬
der of Banquo, and the escape of his son Fleance, the
supposed primogenitor of the house of Stewart. His¬
tory knows nothing of Banquo the thane of Lochaber,
nor of Fleance his son. None of the ancient chroni¬
cles nor Irish annals, nor even Fordoun, recognize the
names of Banquo and Fleance, though the latter be
made by genealogists the root and father of many*£»/ia/mJ
kings. Nor is a thane of Lochaber known in Scot- Calcd(mi\
tish history, because the Scottish kings had never any vo!- '•
demesnes within that impervious district. * p‘ 412,
Macduff, the thane of Fife,- was the most powerful 66
person in Scotland; for which reason, Macbeth de- Macbeth
termined to destroy him. On this Macduff fled to driven °i|
France; and Macbeth cruelly put to death his wife,
and children who were yet infants, and sequestered
his estate. Macduff vowed revenge, and encouraged
Malcolm to attempt to dethrone the tyrant. Mac¬
beth opposed them with his whole force ; but being
defeated in a pitched battle, he took refuge in the
most inaccessible places of the Highlands, where he
defended himself for two years ; but in the mean time
Malcolm was acknowledged king of Scotland, and
crowned at Scone. 67
The war between Macbeth and the new king con-andkiikj
tinued for two years after the coronation of the latter;
but at last he was killed in a sally by Macduff, at Lum-
phanan, on the 5th of Dec. 1056. However the pub¬
lic tranquillity did not end with his life. His followers
elected one of his kinsmen named Lullach, surnamed
the Idiot, to succeed him ; but he not being able to
withstand Malcolm, withdrew to the north, where be¬
ing pursued, he was killed at Essey in Strathbogie,
after a reign of four months. 6g
Malcolm being now established on the throne, be- Makolrr
gan with rewarding Macduff for his great services; and III- esu
conferred upon his family four extraordinary privileges:
1. That they should place the king in his chair of state |,^ona
at the coronation. 2. That they should lead the van An. 105!
of all the royal armies. 3. That they should have a
i-egality within themselves : and, 4. That if any of
Macduff's family should happen to kill a nobleman un-
premeditately, he should pay 24 marks of silver, and, if
a plebeian, 12. The king’s next care was to reinstate
in their fathers possessionsall the children w’ho had been
disinherited by the late tyrant; which he did in a con¬
vention of his nobles held at Forfar. In the time of
William the Conqueror, we find Malcolm engaged in a
dangerous war with England, the occasion of which was
as follows. On the death of Edward the Confessor,
Harold seized the throne of England, to the prejudice
of
S C 0 T L A N D.
595
Scotland. 0f Edgar Afcheling the true heir to the crown. How-
—y——'ever, he created him earl of Oxford, and treated him
with great respect; but on the defeat and death of
Harold, William discovered some jealousy of Edgar.
Soon after, William having occasion to pay a visit to his
dominions in Normandy, he appointed Edgar Atheling
to attend him, along with some other noblemen whom
he suspected to be in his interest; but on his return to
England, he found the people so much disaffected to
his government, that he proceeded with great severity,
which obliged great numbers of his subjects to take re¬
fuge in Cumberland and the southern parts of Malcolm’s
dominions. Edgar had two sisters, Margaret and Chris¬
tina : these, with his two chief friends, Gospatric and
Marteswin, soon made him sensible how precarious his
life was under such a jealous tyrant, and persuaded him
to make preparations for flying into Hungary, or some
foreign country. Edgar accordingly set sail with his
mother Agatha, his two sisters, and a great train of
‘ntertains Anglo-Saxon noblemen; but by stress of weather was
id^rfan forced into the frith of Forth, where the illustrious
jlnglish exiles landed at the place since that time called the
j mice. Queens Ferry. Malcolm no sooner heard of their land¬
ing than he paid them a visit in person ; and at this
visit he fell in love with the Princess Margaret. In
consequence of this, the chief of Edgar’s party re¬
paired to the court of Scotland. William soon made
a formal demand of Edgar ; and, on Malcolm’s re¬
fusal, declared war against him.
7arbe- William was the most formidable enemy whom the
veenScot- Scotshad ever encountered, as having not only the whole
nd and force of England, but of Normandy, at his command,
nglaiid. However, as he had tyrannized most unmercifully over
his English subjects, they were much more inclined to
assist his enemies than their own prince; and he even
found himself obliged to give up the county of Northum¬
berland to Gospatric, who had followed Edgar, upon
condition of his making war on the Scots. This noble¬
man accordingly invaded Cumberland; in return for
which Malcolm ravaged Northumberland in a dreadful
manner, carrying off an immense booty, and inviting
71 at the same time the Irish and Danes to join him.
ngland By this time William had taken from Gospatric the
vaded. earldom of Northumberland, and given it to Robert
Cummin one of his Norman barons; but the Northum¬
brians having joined Gospatric, and received the Danes
as their countrymen, murdered Cummin and all his
followers at Durham, where they had been guilty of
great cruelties. After this they laid siege to the forts
built by William in Yorkshire; hut not being able to
reduce them, the English, Scots, and Danes united
their forces, took the city of York, and put to the sword
three thousand Normans who were there in garrison ;
and this success was followed by many incursions and
ravages, in which the Danes and Northumbrians ac¬
quired great booty. It soon appeared, however, that
these allies had the interest of Edgar no more at heart
than the Irish ; and that all the dependence of this for¬
lorn prince was upon Malcolm, and the lew Englishmen
who had followed his fortune: for the booty was no
sooner obtained, than the Danes retired to their ships,
and the Northumbrians to their habitations, as if they
had been in perfect safety. But in the mean time
William, having raised a considerable army, advanced
northwards. He first inflicted a severe revenge upon
the Northumbrians ; then he reduced the city of York, Scotland,
and put to death all the inhabitants; and perceiving’- v '
that danger was still threatened by the Danes, he brib¬
ed them with a sum of money to depart to their own
country.
Malcolm was now left alone to encounter this for¬
midable adversary ; and, finding himself unable to op¬
pose so great a force, withdrew to his own dominions,
where he remained for some time on the defensive, but
not without making great preparations for once more 72
invading England. His second invasion took place in a second
the year 1071, while William was employed itiSfuellinginvasion,
an insurrection in Vv ales. He is said at this time to
have behaved with the greatest cruelty. He invaded
England by Cumberland ; ravaged jfeesdale ; and at a
place called Hundreds-keld, he massacred some English
noblemen, with all their followers. Thence he march¬
ed to Cleveland in the north riding of Yorkshire;
which he also ravaged with the utmost cruelty, sending
back the booty with part of his army to Scotland : af¬
ter which he pillaged the bishopric of Durham, where
he is said not to have spared the most sacred edifices,
but to have burnt them to the ground. In the mean
time Gospatric, to whom William had again ceded
Northumberland, attempted to make a diversion in his
favour, by invading Cumberland : but being utterly de¬
feated by Malcolm, he was.obliged to shut himself up
in Bamborough castle ; while Malcolm returned in tri¬
umph with his army to Scotland, where he married the
princess Margaret. 73
The next year William, having greatly augmented William
his army, invaded Scotland in his turn. The particu-*^®
lars of the war are unknown ; but it certainly ended
much to the disadvantage ot the Scots, as Malcolm ianti,
agreed to pay him homage. The English historians
contend that this homage was for the whole of his
dominions ; but the Scots with more reason affirm,
that it was only for those he possessed in England.
On the conclusion of the peace, a cross was erected
at Stanmore in Richmondshire, with the arms of both
kings, to serve as a boundary between the possessions
of William and the feudal dominions of Malcolm.
Part of this monument, called Re-cross, or rather Roy-
cross, or The cross of the kings, was enthe in the days
of Camden.
This peace between Malcolm Canmore and William
produced the greatest alteration in the manners of the
Scots. What contributed chiefly to this was the ex¬
cellent disposition of Queen Margaret; who was, for 74
that age, a pattern of piety and politeness : and next Reforma-
to this was the number of foreigners who had settled^ seum
in Scotland ; among whom were some Frenchmen, who k°°g^nde
laid the foundation of that friendship with the Scotsqueen 0f
which lasted for ages. Malcolm himself also, though ScoUand.
by his ravages in England he seems naturally to have
been a barbarian, was far from being averse to a reform¬
ation, and even set the example himself. During her
husband’s absence in England, Queen Margaiet had
chosen for her confessor one I urgot, whom she also
made her assistant in her intended reformation. She
5e<ran with new-modelling her own court; into which
she introduced the offices, furniture, and manner ot liv¬
ing, common among the more polite nations of Europe.
She dismissed from her service all those who were noted
for immorality and impiety; and charged Turgot, on
4 F 2 pain
596
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, pain of her displeasure, to give his real sentiments on
 the state of the kingdom, after the best inquiry he could
make. By him she was informed, that faction reigned
among the nobles, rapine among the commons, and in¬
continence among all degrees of men. Above all, he
complained that the kingdom was destitute of a learned
clergy, capable of reforming the people by their example
and doctrine. All this the queen represented to her
husband, and prevailed upon him to set about the work
of reformation immediately. In this, however, he met
with considerable opposition. The Scots, accustomed
to oppress their inferiors, thought all restrictions of
their power so many steps towards their slavery. The
introduction of foreign offices and titles confirmed
them in this opinion ; and such a dangerous insurrection
happened in Moray and some of the northern counties,
that Malcolm was obliged to march against the rebels
in person. He found them, indeed, very formidable ;
but they were so much intimidated by his resolution,
that they in treated the clergy who were among them
to intercede with the king in their favour. Malcolm
received their submission, but refused to grant an uncon¬
ditional pardon. He gave all the common people in¬
deed leave to return to their habitations, but obliged
the higher ranks to surrender themselves to his pleasure.
Many of tire most guilty were put to death, or con¬
demned to perpetual imprisonment; while others had
their estates confiscated. This severity checked the re¬
bellious spirit of the Scots, and Malcolm returned to
his plans of reformation. Still, however, he found
himself opposed, even in those abuses which w^ere most
obvious and glaring. He durst not entirely abolish that
infamous practice of the landlord claiming the first night
with his tenant’s bride ; though, by the queen’s influ¬
ence, the privilege was changed into the payment of a
piece of money by the bridegroom, and was afterwards
known by the name of mercheta mulierum, or “ the wo¬
men's merk. ” In those days the Scots had not the- prac¬
tice of saying grace after meals, till it was introduced by
Margaret, who gave a glass of wane, or other liquor, to
those who remained at the royal table and heard the
thanksgiving; which expedient gave rise to the term of
the grace-drinks Besides this, the terms of the duration
of Lent and Easter, were fixed; the king and queen be¬
stowed large alms on the poor, and the latter washed the
feet of six of their number ; many churches, monaste¬
ries, fire, were erected, and the clerical revenues aug¬
mented. Notwithstanding these reformations, however,
some historians have complained, that, along with the
manners of the English and French, their luxuries were
also introduced. Till this reign the Scots had been re¬
markable for their sobriety and the simplicity of their
diet; which was now converted into excess and riot,
and sometimes ended fatally by quarrels and bloodshed.
\\ e are told, at the same time, that oven in those days
the nobility ate only two meals a-day, and were served
75 with no more than two dishes at each meal.
England In the ) ear 107b, Malcolm again invaded England ;
vae'edln~ kut upon vhat provocation, or with what success, is
not well known. But in losfe, after the death of the
An. I0i9. Conqueror, be again espoused the cause of Edgar A-
tlu ling, who had been reduced to implore his assistance
a second time, when William Rufus ascended the throne
of England. At the time of Edgar’s arrival, Malcolm
was at. the head of a brave and well disciplined army,
with which he penetrated a great way into the country Scotland,
of the enemy ; and, as is said, returned to Scotland with v—■
an immense booty. William resolved to revenge the
injury, and prepared great armaments both by sea and
land for the invasion of Scotland. His success, how¬
ever, was not answerable to the greatness of his prepara¬
tions. His fleet was dashed to pieces by storms, and
almost all on board of it perished. Malcolm had also
laid waste the country through which his antagonist was
to pass, so effectually, that William lost a great part of
his troops by fatigue and famine ; and when he arrived
in Scotland, found himself in a situation very little able
to resist Malcolm, who was advancing against him with
a powerful army. In this distress, Rufus had recourse 76
to Robert de Moubray earl of Northumberland, who The Engl
dissuaded him from hazarding a battle, but advisedj*5,11 ar«y
him to open a negociation b}' means of Edgar and1,1' gl<;at
the other English noblemen who resided with Mai- a"gl'r‘
colm. Edgar undertook the negociation, on condition
of his being restored to his estates in England; but met
with more difficulty than he imagined. Malcolm had
never yet recognized the right of William. Rufus to
the throne of England, and therefore refused to treat
with him as a sovereign prince ; but offered to enter in¬
to a negociation with his brother Robert. The two
princes accordingly met; and Malcolm, having shown
Robert the disposition of his army, offered to cut off his
brother William, and to pay to him the homage he had
been accustomed to pay to the Conqueror for his Eng¬
lish dominions.. But Robert generously answered, that
he had resigned to Rufus his right of primogeniture in
England; and that he had even become one of Wil¬
liam’s subjects, thereby accepting of an English estate. 77
An interview with William then followed ; in which it Peace co:
was agreed that the king of England should restore toc'lu^'
Malcolm all his southern possessions, for which he
should, pay the same homage he had been accustomed
to do to the Conqueror ; that he should restore to Mal¬
colm 12 disputed manors, and give him likewise 12
merks of gold yearly, besides restoring Edgar to all
his English estates.
This treaty was concluded in Lothian, according to
the English historians ; but at Leeds in Yorkshire, ac¬
cording to the Scots. However, the English monarch
Looked upon the terms to be so very dishonourable, that
be resolved not to fulfil them. Soon after his departure^
Edgar and Robert began to press him to fulfil his en¬
gagements ; but receiving only evasive answers, they
passed over into Normandy. After their departure,
William applied himself to the fortification of his north¬
ern boundaries, especially Carlisle, which had been de¬
stroyed by the Danes 200 years before.— As- tins place,
lay within the feodal dominions of Malcolm, he com¬
plained ot William’s proceeding, as a breach of the late
treat} ; and soon after repaired to the English court at
Gloucester, that he ought have a personal interview with 78
the king of England, and obtain 1 edress. On his arri-Hostility
val, William refused him admittance to his presence,
without paying him homage.. Malcolm offered this in
the same manner as had been done by his predecessors,
that is, on the confines of the two kingdoms ; but this
being rejected by William, Malcolm returned to Scot¬
land, and prepared again for war.
The first of Malcolm’s military operations now prov¬
ed fatal to him ; but the circumstances of his death are
variously
SCOTLAND.
IcotlanJ- variously related. It is generally believed that while
—v—''prosecuting the siege of Alnwick in Northumberland,
79 he was surprised by Earl Moubray, by whom it was de-
'JeTat* Ien(le(l) an(^ slain, together with his eldest son Edward,
on the 19th November, 1093. Queen Margaret, who
Alnwick was at that time lying ill in the castle of Edinburgh,
itIe- died four days after husband.
icthrone After the death of Malcolm Canmore, the throne
lurpedbywas usurped by his brother Donald Bane; who, not-
jonald withstanding the great virtues and glorious achieve-
me- ments of the late king, had been at the head of a strong
k1093- party during the whole of his brother’s reign. The
usurper, giving way to the barbarous prejudices of him¬
self and his countrymen, expelled from the kingdom all
the foreigners whom Malcolm had introduced, and ob¬
liged them to take refuge in England. Edgar himself
bad long resided at the English court, where he was in
high reputation; and, by bis interest there, found means
to rescue his nephew, young Edgar, the king of Scot¬
land's eldest surviving son, out of the hands of the usur¬
per Donald Bane. The favour which he showed him,
however, produced an accusation against himself, as if
he designed to adopt young Edgar as his son, and set him
up as a pretender to the English thr v»e. This accusation
was preferred by an Englishman whose name was Orgar ;
but as no legal proofs of the guilt could be obtained,
81 the custom of the times rendered a single combat be-
single tween the parties unavoidable. Orgar was one of the
nbat. strongest and most active men in the kingdom ; but the
age and infirmities of Edgar allowed him to be defended
by another. For a long time none could be found who
would enter the lists with this champion ; but at last
one Godwin of Winchester, whose family had been un¬
der obligations to Edgar or his ancestors, offered to de¬
fend his cause. Orgar was overcome and killed : and,
when dying, confessed the falsehood of his accusation.
The conqueror obtained all the lands of Ids adversary,
and William lived ever afterwards on terms ot the strict¬
est friendship with Edgar.
This combat, trifling as it may seem to us, produced
very considerable effects. The party of Edgar and his
brothers (who had likewiso taken refuge at the Eng¬
lish court) revived in Scotland, to such a degree, that
g2 Donald was obliged to call in the Danes and Nor-
nakl wegians to his assistance. In order to engage them
Ida up more effectually to his interest, the usurper yielded up
Orkney to them the Orkney and Shetland islands; but when
d islands his nevv a^'es carne to assistance, they behaved in
he such a manner as to become more intolerable to the
nes* Scots than ever the English had been. 1 he discon¬
tent was greatly increased when it was found that \\ il-
liam designed to place on the throne ot Scotland a na¬
tural son of the late Malcolm, named Duncan, who had
served in the English armies with great reputation.
Donald attempted to maintain himself on the throne
by the assistance of bis Norwegian allies ; but, being
abandoned by the Scots, he was obliged to fly to the
isles, in order to raise more forces ; and in the mean
time Duncan was crowned at Scone with the usual,
solemnity.
The Scots were now greatly distressed by two usur^
pers who contended for the kingdom, each of them
supported by a foreign army. One of them, however,
was soon despatched. Malpedir, thane of Mearns, sur¬
prised Duncan in the castle of Monteith, and killed
597
him ; after which he replaced Donald on the throne. Scotland.
The affection of the Scots, however, was by this time
entirely alienated from Donald, and a manifest inten¬
tion of calling in young Edgar was shown. To prevent
this, Donald offered the young prince all that part of
Scotland which lay to the southward of the Forth ;
but the terms were rejected, and the messengers who
brought them were put to death as traitors. The king
of England also, dreading the neighbourhood of the
Norwegians, interposed in young Edgar’s favour, and
gave Atheling the command of an army in order to
restore his nephew. Donald prepared to oppose his ene Donald dc-
mies with ail the forces he could raise ; but was desert- ,5y
ed by the Scots and obliged to fly; his enemies pursued
him so closely, that he was soon taken; and being
brought before Edgar, he ordered his eyes to be put
out, condemning him at the same time to perpetual
banishment, in which he died some time after.
With Donald Bane may be said to have terminated
the line of Scoto-Irish kings, which had filled the throne
of Scotland from the invasion of Fergus in .506, to the
year 1097, the date of Donald Bane’s defeat, compre¬
hending a period of 591 years. Edgar the new mo¬
narch was of Saxon descent, and as in his person a new
dynasty commenced, it may be proper to take a brief
survey of the state of Scotland on his accession, or at
the close of the 11th century. g4-
We have seen that from the time of Kenneth II. the State of
Piets were either expelled from Scotland, or had been Scotland at
gradually incorporated with the Scoto-Irish tribes. At °
the period of which we are now treating, Scotland was century,
subdivided into 13 districts, viz. those of Lothian, Gal¬
loway, Strathcluid, Fife; Stratheanv, Athol, Angus,.
Mcem or Mearns, the extensive district between the''
Dee and the Spey, comprehending'Aberdeen and Banff,
and the districts of Murray, Argyle, Ross, and Suther¬
land. Most of these districts possessed within them¬
selves, an independent authority, exercised by the
thane. The clans of the distinct districts possessed
rights which the regal power could scarcely controul:
they were governed by their own customs, and the king
could neither appoint nor displace their chieftains. The
notion of a body politic having an acknowledged autho¬
rity to make laws, which, every individual and every
district were bound to obey, was scarcely known. The
kings and the maormors were so independent of each
other in their respective stations, that the power of the
superior over his vassal was but little felt, though it was
acknowledged, and was often resisted, because it could
not easily be enforced. The same law which directed
the succession of the kings, operated equally, and with
similar effects, in the succession of every chieftain. The
custom called tanntry, already explamed in N° 32, was
the common law of North Britain throughout the Sco¬
to-Irish period. The Brehons continued to be judges
throughout every district of Scotland, and were regu¬
lated in their judicial proceedings, by the common
customs- of the country, and the usual manners of the.
times.
One of the most singular customs introduced by the Manner*
Scoto-Irish colonists, and which prevailedfor many sue-ami cus-
ceeding ages, was the use of slug-horns, or. war-cries. *°ins-
Each clan had its appropriate slug-horn. Thus, that
of the Mackenzies was Tulloch-ard, or the high lull;
that of the Grants, Craig-clachie, rock of alarm. Often
they.
5S3
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, they were simply the name of the elan, as A Home, A
“ Home, for the fami ly of Hume; A Douglas, A Douglas,
lor that of Douglas. At this time the nobility used no
armorial bearings, which we are assured were not adopt¬
ed before the reign of William the Lion, on whose
escutcheon the lion rampant first appeared as a national
badge. Neither seals nor coins appear to have been
86 in use, but all commerce consisted in barter.
Iteign of
Edgar.
An. 1097.
87
Alexan¬
der I.
An. 1107.
88
Adminis¬
ters justice
Tigicily.
Edgar was son of Malcolm Canmore by Margaret,
an Anglo-Saxon princess, and was still very young when
he ascended the Scottish throne. The education which
he had received from his mother, the experience which
he had acquired under the English government in Nor¬
thumberland, the establishment of his authority over
North Britain by the power of that government, all
induced him to imitate the English rather than the
Scottish customs, during his feeble administration.
He had scarcely ascended the throne of his father
when Magnus, the enterprising king of Norway, ap¬
peared in the surrounding seas, in order to compel the
submission of his subjects in the Orkneys and Hebudes,
and to plunder or overawe the inhabitants of the neigh¬
bouring shores of England, of Man, and of Ireland.
Had Magnus attempted a descent on the coast of Scot¬
land, he would probably have met with little opposition
from Edgar, in whom the appearance of the Norwegian
prince appears to have excited considerable apprehen¬
sion. From this, however, he was relieved by the
death of Magnus, in 1103. Three years before had
died William Rufus, whom Edgar considered as a bene-
factor; and in the same year, his sister Matilda had
been married to Henry I. Thus, both from prudence
and policy, Edgar avoided all disputes with England,
and either his interest or his weakness prevented him
from interfering with the then embroiled state of the
European continent. Fie paid considerable attention
to the internal regulation of his kingdom, especially in
ecclesiastical matters. He conferred on the monks of
St Cuthbert at Durham, many churches and lands near
Berwick ; and he bestowed the church of Portmoak in
Kinross, on the Culdees, and that of Gellold on the
monks of Dunfermling. It does not appear, however,
that in this religious age he founded any remarkable
religious house. He died at Dun-Edin without issue,
on the 8th of January 1106, having reigned nine years.
He has been characterised as an amiable man, who
formed himself on the model of Edward the Confessor,
of England. From the silence of history we may infer
that his reign was barren of events ; anil from the fee¬
bleness of his character, w-e may conclude that his au¬
thority was scarcely recognised within the largest por¬
tion of his kingdom.
Edgar wtis succeeded by his brother Alexander I.
surnamed the Fierce from the impetuosity of his temper.
On his accession to the throne, however, the Scots were
so ignorant of his true character, on account of his ap¬
pearance of piety and devotion, that the northern parts
of the kingdom were soon tilled with ravages and blood¬
shed, by reason of the wars of the chieftains with each
other. Alexander immediately raised an army, and
marching into Moray and Ross-shire, attacked the in¬
surgents separately; and having subdued them all, he
put great numbers of them to death. He then prepared
t o reduce the exorbitant powrer of the nobles, and to de¬
liver the people from the oppression under which they
groaned. A remarkable instance of this appeared on his Scotlam
returnfrom the expedition just now mentioned. In pass-
ing through the Mearns, he met with a widow, who
complained that her husband and son had been put to
death by the young earl their superior. Alexander im¬
mediately alighted from his horse, and swore that he
would not remount him till he had inquired into the jus¬
tice of the complaint; and, finding it to be true, the of¬
fender was hanged on the spot. These vigorous pro¬
ceedings pi-evented all attempts at open rebellion ; but
produced many conspiracies among the profligate part of
his private subjects, who had been accustomed to live
under a more remiss government. The most remarkable Narrow!
of these took place while the king was engaged in build- escapes
ing the castle of Baledgar, so called in memory of his assassins
brother Edgar, who had laid the foundation stone. It
was situated in the Carse of Gowrie, which, we are told,
had formerly belonged to Donald Bane, but afterwards
came to the crown, either by donation or forfeiture.
The conspirators bribed one of the king’s chamberlains
to introduce them at night into the royal bed-chamber :
but Alexander, alarmed at the noise, drew his sword,
and killed six of them ; after which, by the help of a
knight named Alexander Carron, he escaped the danger,
by flying into Fife. The conspirators chiefly resided
in the Mearns, to which Alexander once more repaired
at the head of an army; but the rebels retreated north¬
wards, and crossed the Spey. The king pursued them
across that river, defeated them, and brought to justice
all that fell into his hands. In this battle, Carron
distinguished himself so eminently, that he obtained
tbe name of Skrimgeour or Skrimzeour; which indeed
is no more than the English word skirmisher or fighter. 50
The next remarkable transaction of Alexander’s reign, His ex-
as recorded by the English historians, was his journey ploits in
into England, where he paid a visit to Henry I. whom Englanc
he found engaged in a war with the Welsh. Alexander,
in virtue of the fealty which he had sworn for his Eng¬
lish possessions, readily agreed to lead an army into
Wales. There he defeated one of the chieftains, and
reduced him to great straits ; but could not prevent him
from escaping to Griffith prince of North Wales, with
whom he was closely allied, Flenry also marched a-
gainst the enemy, but with much worse success than
Alexander. Alexander died in 1124, after a reign of
seventeen years ; and was buried at Dunfermline.
This prince, dying a bachelor, was succeeded by his v/ars 0f
younger brother David ; who interfered in the affairs King D;
of England, and took part with the empress Maud inv*dyntlj.
the civil war which she carried on with Stephen. Iii1^® j1^1
1136, David met his antagonist at Durham; but as nei¬
ther party chose to hazard an engagement, a negociation
took place, and a treaty was concluded. This, however,
was observed but for a short time ; for, in the follow¬
ing year, David again invaded England, on some frivo¬
lous pretence. He defeated Stephen at Roxburgh ;
and forced him to retreat precipitately, after losing one
half of his army. Next year he renewed his invasion ;
and, though he himself was a man of great mildness and
humanity, he suffered his troops to commit, such out-
rages, as firmly united the English in opposition to him.
His grandnephew William cut in pieces the vanguard
of the English army at Clithero ; after which he rava¬
ged the country with such cruelty, that the inhabitants
became exasperated beyond measure against him. New
associations
Gotland.
n. 1158.
93
1 Scots
rely do
si
• point
• 1153.
95
' iam I.
* ges in
^ r with
1 7 11.
0 ‘gland.
1165.
SCOT
associations were entered into against the Scots; and
the English army receiving great reinforcements from
the southwards, advanced to Northallerton, where the
famous standard was produced. The body of this stan¬
dard was a kind of box which moved upon wheels,
from which arose the mast of a ship surmounted by
a silver cross, and round it were hung the banners of St
Peter, St John de Beverly, and St Wilfred. Standards
of this kind were common at that time on the conti¬
nent of Europe ; and so great confidence had the Eng¬
lish in this standard, that they now thought themselves
invincible. They had, however, a much more solid
ground of confidence, as being much better armed than
their antagonists. The armies met at a place called
Culton Moor. The first line of the Scots army was
composed of the inhabitants of Galloway, Carrie, Kyle,
Cunningham, and Renfrew. The second line consisted
of the Lothian men, by which we are to understand the
king’s subjects in England as well as the south of Scot¬
land, together with the English and Normans of Maud’s
party. The third line was formed of the clans under
their different chieftains; but wrho were subject to no
regular command, and were always impatient to return
to their own country when they had acquired any booty.
The English soldiers having ranged themselves round
their standard, dismounted from their horses, in order to
avoid the long lances which the first line of the Scots
army carried. Their front-line was intermixed with
archers; and a body of cavalry, ready for pursuit, ho¬
vered at some distance. The Scots, besides their lances,
made use of targets; but, when the English closed with
them, they were soon disordered and driven back upon
the cent re, where David commanded in person. His son
made a gallant resistance, but was at last forced to yield:
the last line seems never to have been engaged. David,
seeing the victory decided against him, ordered some
of his men to save themselves by throwing away their
badges, which it seems Maud’s party had worn, and
mingling with the English; after which he himself,
with his sha'tered forces, retreated towards Carlisle.
' The English historians say, that in this battle the Scots
were totally defeated, with the loss of 10,000 men ; but
this seems not to be the case, as the English did not
pursue, and the Scots were in a condition for carrying
on the war next year. However, there were now no
great exploits performed on either side ; and a peace
was concluded, by which Henry prince of Scotland was
put in possession of Huntingdon and Northumberland,
and took an oath of fealty to Stephen. David conti¬
nued faithful to his niece the empress as long as he
lived ; and died at Carlisle in the year 1153, after a
glorious reign of rather more than 29 years.
David was succeeded by his grandson Malcolm IV.
surnamed the Maiden, on account of his continence.
He appears to have been a weak and superstitious
prince, and died of a depression of spirits in the year
1165. He was succeeded by his brother William I.
who immediately entered into a war with Henry II. of
England, on account of the earldom of Northumber¬
land, which had been given up by Malcolm : but Hen¬
ry, finding his affairs in a very embarrassed situation,
consented to yield up this county, on William’s paying
him homage, rather than continue the miseries of war.
In H72, he attempted to avail himself of the unnatural
wars which Henry’s sons carried on against their father,
LAND. 599
and invaded England. He divided his army into three Scotland,
columns : the first of which laid siege to Carlisle ; the s““"-V” *
secong the king in person led into Northumberland ;
and the king’s brother, David, advanced with the third
into Leicestershire. William reduced the castles of
Burgh, Appleby, Warkworth, and Garby; and then
joined that division of his army which was besieging
Carlisle. The place was already reduced to such straits,
that the governor had agreed to surrender it by a cer¬
tain day, provided it was not relieved before that time :
on which the king, leaving some troops to continue the
siege, invested a castle with some of the forces he had
under his command, at the same time sending a strong
reinforcement to his brother David ; by which means
he himself w'as left with a very small army, when he re¬
ceived intelligence that a strong body of English under
Robert de Stuteville and his son were advancing to sur¬
prise him—William, sensible of his inability to resist
them, retired to Alnwick, to which he instantly laid
siege; but in the mean time acted in such a careless
and unthinking manner, that his enemies actually ef¬
fected their designs. Having dressed a party of their
soldiers in Scots habits, they took the king himself pri¬
soner, and carried him, with his feet tied under the ,96
belly of a horse to Richmond Castle. He was then
conveyed in chains before Henry to Northampton, andtheEn«lish,
ordered to be transported to the castle of Falaise inand obli-
Normandy, where he was shut up with other state pri-Se<110 do
soners. Soon after this an accommodation took place
between Henry and his sons; and the prisoners on bothdom.
sides were set at liberty, Wfilliam only excepted, who
bore his confinement with great impatience. Of this
Henry took the advantage to make him pay homage
for the whole kingdom of Scotland, arid acknowledge
that he held it onty as a feu of the crown of England ;
and, as a security, he was obliged to deliver into the
hands of Henry all the principal forts in Scotland, viz.
the castles of Roxburgh, Berwick, Jedburgh, Edin¬
burgh, and Stirling; William at the same time agree¬
ing to pay the English garrisons which were put into
these castles. David, the king’s brother, with 20 ba¬
rons, who were present at the signing of this shame¬
ful convention, were put into the hands of Henry as
hostages for William’s good faith ; after which the
king wars set at liberty, and returned to Scotland.
The affairs of Scotland were now in the greatest
confusion. The people of Galloway, at the head of
whom were two chiefs called Othred and Gilbert, had
taken the opportunity of asserting their independency
on the crown of Scotland ; and, having expelled all
the Scots officers out of the country, they demolished
all the forts which William had erected in their coun¬
try, and put to death all the foreigners. But in the
mean time a quarrel ensuing between the two chiefs,
Othred was murdered by Gilbert, who immediately
applied to Henry for protection.
Henry, in order to give all possible sanction to the
convention betwixt him and William, summoned him
to meet him and his son at York. William obeyed the
summons, and along with him appeared all the great
nobility and landholders ; who confirmed the conven¬
tion of Falaise, swore fealty to Henry, and put them¬
selves and their country under his protection. In the
mean time, Gilbert, who was at the head of the rebels
in Galloway, had offered to place himself and his people
3 under
S C 0 T L A N D.
600
Scotland, under the protection of the king of England, and to
' * ' pay to Henry 5000 merks of silver yearly, with 500
cows and as many hogs, by way of tribute : Henry,
however, that he might oblige his new feudatory Wil¬
liam, refused to have any concern in the alfair. On
this, William ordered his general Gilchrist to march
against him; which he did with such success, that Gil¬
bert was entirely defeated, and Galloway again reduced
under the dominion of Scotland. Very soon after this
97 ‘ victory, Gilchrist fell uiider the king’s displeasure on
Adventures t]ie following occasion. He had married Matilda, sister
liam s^e to William; and on suspicion, or proof, of her inconti-
neral Gil- nence, put her to death at a village called Maynes, near
vlirist. Dundee. The king being highly displeased at such a
gross affront to himself, summoned Gilchrist to take
Ins trial for the murder : but as the general did not
choose to make his appearance, his estates were con¬
fiscated; his castles demolished, and he himself sent into
exile. He took refuge in England; but as it had been
agreed in tbe convention between William and Henry
that the one should not harbour the traitorous subjects
of tbe other, Gilchrist was forced to return to Scot¬
land with his two sons. There they wej*e exposed to
all the miseries of indigence, and the perpetual fear of
being discovered, so that they were obliged to skulk
from place to place. William, on his return from an
expedition against an usurper whom be bad defeated,
happened to observe three strangers, who, though dis¬
guised like rustics, appeared by their noble mien to be
above the vulgar rank. William, who first discovered
them, was confirmed in this apprehension, by seeing
them strike out of the high road, and endeavour :to
avoid notice. He ordered them to be seized and
brought before him. The oldest, who was Gilchrist
himself, fell upon his knees before him, and gave such
a detail of his misfortunes as drew tears from the eyes
98 of all present; and the king restored him to his former
Origin of honours and estates. From the family of this Gilchrist
the family t]ult 0f the Ogilvies is said to be descended.
° S1 vy- The Scots continued to be in subjection to the Eng¬
lish till tbe accession of Richard I. This monarclfbe-
ing a man of romantic valour, zealously undertook an
expedition into the Holy Land against the Turks, in
conformity with the superstition of the times. That he
might secure the quiet of his dominions in his absence,
99 he determined to make the king of Scotland his friend ;
William re-and for this purpose, he thought nothing could be more
leased from acceptable than releasing him and his subjects from
ins homages subjection which even the English themselves con-
K sidered as forced and unjust. However, he determin-
An. 1189. ed not to lose this opportunity of supplying himself
with a sum of money, which could not but be absolute¬
ly necessary in such an expensive and dangerous un¬
dertaking. He therefore made William pay him 10,000
merks for this release: after which he entered into a
convention still extant; in which he acknowledges, that
“ all the conventions and acts of submission from Wil¬
liam to the crown of England had been extorted from
him by unprecedented writings and duresse. ” This
transaction happened in the year 1189.
The generosity of Richard met with a grateful re¬
turn from William ; for when Richard was imprisoned
by the emperor of Germany in his return from the
Holy Land, the king of Scotland sent an army to as¬
sist the regency against his rebellious brother John,
who had wickedly usurped the throne of England. Scotian)
For this Richard acknowledged his obligation in the’——v—
highest degree ; but William afterwards made this an
excuse lor such high demands as could not be com¬
plied with. Nevertheless, the two monarchs continu¬
ed in friendship as long as Richard lived. Some dif¬
ferences happened with King John about the posses¬
sion of Northumberland and other northern counties ;
but these were all finally adjusted to the mutual satis¬
faction of both parties ; and William continued a faith¬
ful ally of the English monarch till his death, which
happened in the year 1214, after a reign of 49 years, loo
William was succeeded by his son Alexander II. a^,exaiN
youth of 1G. He renewed his claim to Northumber- j
land and the other northern counties of England; but
John, supposing that he had now thoroughly subdued
the English, not only refused to consider the demands
of Alexander, but made preparations for invading
Scotland. John had given all the country between
Scotland and tbe river Tees to Hugh de Baliol and ]0I
another nobleman, upon condition of their defending War witj
it against the Scots. Alexander invaded Northumber-John, k ;
land, which he easily reduced, while John invadedofEl,Sla ‘
Scotland. Alexander retired to Melros, in order to
defend his own country; upon which John burnt the
towns of Wark, Alnwick, and Morpeth, and took the
strong castles of Roxburgh and Berwick. He next
plundered the abbey of Coldingham, reduced Dunbar
and Haddington, ravaging .the country as he passed
along. His next operation was directed against Edin¬
burgh ; but being opposed by Alexander at the head
of an army, he precipitately retreated. Alexander
did not fail to pursue ; and John, to cover his retreat,
burnt tbe towns of Berwick and Coldingham. In this
retreat the king of England himself set his men an ex¬
ample of barbarity, by setting fire every morning to the
bouse in which he had lodged the preceding night. In
short, such desolation did John spread all around him,
that Alexander found it impossible to continue his pur¬
suit ; for which reason he marched westward, and in¬
vaded England by the way of Carlisle. This place he
took and fortified ; after which he marched south as
far as Richmond, receiving homage from all the great
barons as he passed At Richmond he was again
stopped by John’s ravages, and obliged to return
through Westmoreland to his own dominions.
When the English barons found it necessary to put
themselves under the protection of Louis, son to tbe
king of France, this prince, among other acts of sove¬
reignty, summoned Alexander to do him homage ; but
the latter being then engaged in the siege of Carlisle,
which had fallen into the hands of King John, lie
could not immediately attend. In a short time Alex¬
ander found himself obliged to abandon his enterprise:
after which he laid siege to Barnard castle ; but being
baffled here also, marched southwards through the
whole kingdom of England, and met Louis at Lon¬
don or Dover, where the prince confirmed to him the
rights to Northumberland, Cumberland, and West¬
moreland. He continued a faithful ally to Louis and
the barons in their wars with John; and, in 1216,
brought a fresh army to their assistance, when their
affairs were almost desperate.
As long as Louis .continued in England, Alexander
proved faithful to his interest; but, in 1217, he was on
such
SCOT L A N D.
cotknd, sucli good terms with Henry as to demand his eldest
-y~~—1 sister, the princess Joan, in marriage. His request was
granted ; and in 12‘21 he espoused that princess. As
Jong as the queen of Scotland Jived, a perfect harmony
subsisted between the Scots and English: but in 1239
Queen Joan died without children ; and Alexander
soon after married Mary, the daughter of Egelrand de
Coucy, a young and beautiful French lady, by whom,
in 1241, he had a son named Alextindtr, From this
time a coolness took place between the two courts,
and many differences arose; but no hostilities com¬
menced on either side during the lifetime of Alexan¬
der, who died in 1249, in the S5th year of his reign.
Immediately on the death of his father, Alexander III.
took possesion of the throne. He is the first of the
Scots kings of whose coronation we have any particu¬
lar account. We are told, that the ceremony was per¬
formed by the bishop of St Andrew’s, who girded the
king with a military belt, probably as an emblem of
his temporal jurisdiction. He then explained in Latin,
and afterwards in Gaelic, the laws and oaths relating
to the king ; who received them all with great appear¬
ance of joy, as he also did the benediction and cere¬
mony of coronation from the same prelate. After the
ceremony was performed, a Highlander, probably one
of those who went under the denomination of Sannn-
chies, repeated on his knees before the throne, in his
own language, the genealogy of Alexander and his an-
I0- cestors, up to the first king of Scotland,
aides the In 1250, the king, though no more than ten years
lighter of of age, wras married to the daughter of Henry, who
601
Scotian it.
102
; lesander
II.
a. 12-19.
’EnVind n°w *t a proper opportunity to oblige him to
105
n. 12J0 h°mage f°r the whole kingdom of Scotland. But
Alexander, notwithstanding his youth, replied with
great sense and modesty, that his business in England
was matrimony ; that he had come thither under Hen¬
ry’s protection and invitation ; and that he was not
prepared to answer such a difficult question.
Henry seems to have been encouraged to this attempt
by the distracted stare of the Scots affairs at that time ;
for, during the minority of the king, the nobility threw
all into confusion by their mutual dissensions. The fa¬
mily of Cummin were now become exceedingly power¬
ful ; and Alexander II. is blamed by Buchanan for al¬
lowing them to obtain such an exorbitant degree of
power, by which they were enabled almost to shake the
foundation of government. Notwithstanding the king’s
refusal to submit to the homage required of him, they
imagined that Henry’s influence was now too great;
and fearing bad consequences to themselves, they with¬
drew from York, leaving Henry in full possession of his
son-in-law’s person. Henry, however, to show that he
deserved all the confidence which could be reposed in
him, publicly declared, that he dropped ail claim of su¬
periority over the crown of Scotland, and that he would
ever afterwards act as thefather and guardian of his son -
in-law; confirming his assurances by a charter. Yet
when Alexander returned to Scotland, he found there
had been a strong party made against his English con-
104 _ nexions. They now exclaimed, that Scotland was no
'h ii'i'1011 than a province of England; and having gained
uceiUiy ahnost ail the nobility over to their side, they kept the
isrebi-lli- king and queen as two state-prisoners in t-’ie castle of E-
ussubjects: dinburgh. Henry had secret intelligence of these pro¬
ceedings ; and his queen privately seat a physician whom
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
she could trust, to enquire into her daughter’s situation.
Having found means of being admitted into the young
queen’s presence, she gave him a most lamentable ac¬
count of her situation. She said, that the place of their
confinement was very unwholesome, in consequence of
which" their health was in imminent danger; and that
they had no concern in the affairs of government. Hi¬
storians do not inform us bv what means they were re¬
duced to this dismal situation ; only in general, that the
Cummins usurped the whole power of the state. Henry
scarcely knew how to act. If he proceeded at once to
violent measures, the was afraid ofthe lives of his daugh¬
ter and son-in-law; and, on the other hand, by a more
cautious conduct, he left them exposed to the wicked
attempts of those who kept them in thraldom, some of
whom, he well knew, had designs on the crown itself.
By advice of the Scots royalists, among whom were the T!lcy are
earls of Dunbar, Fife, Stratherne, Carrfck, and Robert
de Bruce, Henry assembled his military tenants at York, ry ^ c
w hence he himself advanced to Newcastle, where he
published a manifesto, disclaiming all designs against
the peace or independence of Scotland; declaring, that
the forces which had been collected at York were de¬
signed to maintain both ; and that all he intended was
to have an interview with the king and queen upon the
borders. From Newcastlehe proceeded to Wark, where
he privately despatched the earl of Gloucester, with his
favourite John Mansel, and a train of trusty followers,
to gain admission into the castle of Edinburgh, then held
by John Baliol and Robert de Ross, noblemen of great
influence both in England and Scotland. The earl and
Mansel gained admittance into the castle in disguise, on
pretence of their being tenants to Baliol and Ross; and
their followers obtained access on the same account,
without any suspicton, till they were sufficiently numer¬
ous to have mastered the garrison, had they met with
any resistance. The queen immediately informed them
of the thraldom and tyranny in which she had been
kept. The English, being masters of the castle, order¬
ed a bed to be prepared that very night for the king
and queen ; and Henry, hearing ofthe success of his
party, sent a safe-conduct for the royal pair to meet
him at Alnwick. Robert de Ross was summoned by
Plenry to answer for his conduct; but throwing him¬
self on the king’s mercy, he was punished only by the
sequestration of his estate, as was John Baliol by a
heavy fine, which the king of England reserved en¬
tirely for his own use.
Alexander and his queen were attended to Alnwick
by the heads of their party ; and when they arrived, it
was agreed that Henry should act as his son-in-law’s
guardian; in consequence of which, several regulations
were made, in order to suppress the exorbitant power of
the Cummins. That ambitious family, however, were ](y;
all this time privately strengthening their party in Scot-Alexander
land, though they appeared satisfied with the arrange-carried off
ments which had been made. This rendered Alexan-l,y reb®.ls>
der secure; so that, being off his guard, he was sur-^le iev"
prised when asleep in the castle of Kinross by the earl of
Menteith, who carried him to Stirling. The Cummins
were joined in this treason by Sir Hugh de Abernethy,
Sir David Lochore, and Sir Hugh de Barclay ; and, in
the mean time, the whole nation was thrown into the
utmost confusion. 1 he great seal was forcibly taken
from Robert Stuterville, substitute to the chancellor the
f PH bishop
602
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, bishop of Dunkekl; the estates oF the royalists were
plundered; anti even the churches were not spared.
The king at last was delivered by the death of the earl
of Menteith.
Alexander being thus restored to the exercise of re-
gal authority, acted with great wisdom and moderation.
He pardoned the Cummins and their adherents, upon
their submitting to his authority ; after which, he ap¬
plied himself to the regulation of his other affairs : but
a storm was now ready to break upon him from another
An. 1263. quarter. We have already seen, that the usurper Do¬
nald Bane, brother to Malcolm Canmore, had engaged
to deliver up the isles of Orkney and Shetland to the
king of Norway, for assisting him in making good his
pretensions to the crown of Scotland. Haco, the king
of Norway at this time, alleged, that these engagements
extended to the delivering up the islands of Bute, Ar¬
ran, and others in the frith of Clyde, as belonging to
the Ebudm or Western isles; and as Alexander did not
think proper to comply with these demands, the Nor¬
wegian monarch appeared with a fleet of 160 sail, hav¬
ing on board 20,000 troops, who landed and took the
castle of Ayr. Alexander immediately despatched am¬
bassadors to enter into a treaty with Haco ; but the lat¬
ter, flushed with success, would listen to no terms. He
made himself master of the isles of Bute and Arran;
after which he passed over to Cunningham. Alexander,
prepared to oppose him, divided his army into three
bodies. The first was commanded by Alexander high
steward of Scotland (the great-grandfather of Robert
II.), and consisted of the Argyle, Athol, Lenox, and
Galloway men. The second was composed of the in¬
habitants of Lothian, Fife, Merse, Berwick, and Stir¬
ling, under the command of Patrick earl of Dunbar.
The king himself led the centre, which consisted of
the inhabitants of Perthshire, Angus, Mearns, and the
northern counties.—Haco, who was an excellent gene-
Defeatathe1'3^ disposed his men in order of battle, and the en-
Norwc- gagement began at Largs in Ayrshire. Both parties
gians. fought with great resolution ; but at last the Norwe¬
gians were defeated with dreadful slaughter, not few¬
er than 16,000 of them being killed on the spot. The
remainder escaped to their ships ; which were so com¬
pletely wrecked the day after, that Haco could scarce¬
ly find a vessel to cari’y him with a few friends to Ork¬
ney, where he soon after died of grief.
In consequence of this victory, the king of the island
of Man submitted to Alexander; and his example was
followed by several other princes of the islands belong¬
ing to the Norwegians. Haco’s son, a wuse and learned
prince, soon after arrived in Scotland with fresh rein¬
forcements, and proposed a treaty : but Alexander, in¬
stead of listening to an accommodation, sent the earls of
Buchan and Murray, with Allen the chamberlain, and
a considerable body of men, to the Western Islands,
where they put to the sword some of the inhabitants,
and hanged their chiefs for having encouraged the Nor¬
wegian invasion. In the mean time, Magnus returned
to Norway, where a treaty was at last concluded be¬
tween him and Alexander. By this, Magnus renounc¬
ed all right to the contested islands ; Alexander at the
same time consenting to pay him 1000 merks of silver
in two years, and 100 yearly ever after, as an equiva¬
lent for these islands. To cement the friendship more
firmly, a marriage was concluded between Margaret
the daughter of Alexander, and Eric the son and heir Scotian
of Magnus, who was also a child; and, some years af- •—^
ter, when the parties were of proper age, the marriage
was consummated.
In 1264, Alexander sent a considerable body of Scot- Alexandj
tish forces under the command of John Cummin, John tli;
Baliol, and Robert Bruce, to assist the king of England Etwkml
against his rebellious barons. The leaders were taken An? 12c;
prisoners in the battle of Lewis, where Henry wras
defeated, but regained their liberty in the following
year at the decisive battle of Evesham, by which the
English civil war wms successfully terminated on the
part of Henry by the young Prince Edward.
From this time to the accession of Edward I. of Eng¬
land, we find nothing remarkable in the history of Scot¬
land. That prince, however, proved a more cruel ene¬
my to this country than it had ever experienced. Alex¬
ander was present at the coronation of Edwrard, who
was then newly arrived from the Holy Land, w here he
had been on a crusade. Soon after this, Alexander paid
him homage for his English estates ; particularly for the
lands and lordship of Penrith and others, which Henry
had given him along with his daughter. He proved an
excellent ally to Edward in his wars against the
French; and the latter passed a charter, by which he
acknowledged that the services of the king of Scotland
in those w^ars were not in consequence of his holding
lands in England, but as an ally to his crown. Even
at this time, however, Edward had formed a design on
the liberties of that kingdom; for in the charter just 10f)
mentioned, he inserted a salvo, acknowledging the su- Designs"
periority, by which he reserved his right to the homage Edward
of the kingdom of Scotland, when it should be claimed
by him or his heirs. The bishop of Norwich suggested gAkm
this salvo : and this was the reason why Alexander An. 128
would not perform the homage in person, but left it to
be performed by Robert Bruce earl of Garrick; Alexan¬
der standing by, and expressly declaring, that it was
only paid for the lands he held in England.—No acts
of hostility, however, took place during the lifetime
of Alexander, who was killed on the 16th of March
1285, in the 45th year of his age, by his horse rush¬
ing down the black rock near Kinghorn as he was
riding.
Both before and after the death of Alexander, theAn jJ
great subjects of Scotland seemed to have been sensible 100
of Edward’s ambitious designs. On the marriage of Accessi<
Margaret with Eric prince of Norway, the states ofol Mart
Scotland passed an act obliging themselves to receive iet‘
her and her heirs as queen and sovereigns of Scotland.
Edward at that time was in no condition to oppose this
measure, in which the Scots wrere unanimous ; and there¬
fore contented himself with forming factions among
the leading men of the country. Under pretence of re¬
suming the cross, he renewed his intrigues at the court
of Rome, and demanded leave from the pope to collect
the tenths in Scotland; but his holiness replied, that he
could make no such grant without the consent of the go¬
vernment of Scotland. On the death of Margaret queen
of Norway, her daughter, in consequence of the act
above mentioned, was recognised by the states as queen
of Scotland. As she was then but two years old, they
came to a resolution of excluding from all share In the
government, not only Edward I, but their queen’s fa¬
ther ; and they accordingly established a regency from
among
Scotland.
Ill
caty of
rriage
ween
young
een of
itland
1 the
nee of
SCOT
ambng their own number, consisting of the six follow-
’ ing noblemen ; viz. Robert Wishart bishop of Glas¬
gow, Sir James Cummin of Badenoch, senior, James
lord high steward of Scotland, who were to have the
superintendency of all that part of Scotland which lay
to the south of the Forth ; William Fraser bishop of St
Andrews, Duncan IVFDulf earl of Fife, and Alexander
Cummin earl of Buchan, who were to have the direc¬
tion of all affairs to the north of the same river.—With
these arrangements Eric was exceedingly displeased,
considering himself as the only rightful guardian of his
own child. He therefore cultivated a good understand¬
ing with Edward, from whom he had received consider¬
able pecuniary favours; and perceiving that the states
of Scotland were unanimous in excluding all foreigners
from the management of their affairs, he embraced the
views of the king of England, and named commission¬
ers to treat with those of Edward upon the Scots affairs.
These negociations terminated in a treaty of marriage
between the queen of Scotland and Edward prince of
Wales, young as they both were. This alarmed the
states of Scotland, who resolved not to suffer their
queen to be disposed of without their consent. It was
therefore agreed by the commissioners on both sides,
to acquaint them with the result of their conferences,
and to demand that a deputation should be sent to
London for settling the regency of Scotland, or, in o-
ther words, for putting the sovereign power into the
hands of the two kings. As the two parties, however,
were within the prohibited degrees of consanguinity,
being first cousins, a dispensation was applied for to
Pope Boniface, who granted it on condition that the
peers of Scotland consented to the match.
Though the Scots nobility were very inimical to this
match, they could not refuse their consent to it when
proposed by the father and grand-uncle of their young
queen. They therefore appointed the bishops of St An¬
drew’s and Glasgow, with Robert Bruce lord of An-
nandale, and John Cummin, to attend as their depu¬
ties, but with a charge to preserve all the liberties and
honours of the realm of Scotland ; to which Edward
agreed. These deputies met at Salisbury with those of
England and Norway; and it was at last agreed, 1.
That the young queen should be sent from Norway
(free of all marriage-engagements) into England or
Scotland. 2. That if the queen came to England, she
should be at liberty to repair to Scotland as soon as the
distractions of that kingdom should be settled ; that she
should, on her arrival in her own dominions, be free of
all matrimonial contracts ; but that the Scots should
engage not to dispose of her in marriage without her
father or Edward’s consent. S. The Scots deputies
promised to give such security as the Norwegian com¬
missioners might require, that the tranquillity of the
nation should be settled before her arrival. 4. That
the commissioners of Scotland and Norway, joined
with commissioners from England, should remove such
regents and officers of state in Scotland as might be
suspected of disaffection, and place others in their
stead. If the Scots and Norwegian commissioners
should disagree on that or any other head relating to
the government of Scotland, the decision was to be
left to the arbitration of English commissioners.
The party of Edward was now so strong in Scotland,
that no opposition was made to the late agreement, in a
LAND. m
parliament held at Brechin to deliberate upon the settle- Scotland,
ment of the kingdom. It is uncertain whether he com- l——v—
municated in form to the Scottish parliament the pope’s
dispensation for the marriage: but most probably he did
not; as, in a letter written to him by the states of Scot¬
land, they mention this as a matter they heard by re¬
port. On the whole, how'ever, they highly approved
of the marriage, upon certain conditions to which Ed¬
ward was previously to agree; but the latter, without
waiting to perform any conditions, immediately sent for
the young queen from Norway. This exceedingly dis¬
pleased Eric, who was by no means inclined to put his
daughter into the hands of a prince whose sincerity he
suspected, and therefore delayed the departure of the
young queen till he should hear farther from Scotland.
Edward, alarmed at this, had again recourse to negoci-
ation; and ten articles were at last drawn up, in which
the Scots took all imaginable precautions for the safety
and independence of their country. These articles were
ratified by Edward on the 28th of August 1289 ; yet, An. 128S..
even after the marriage was fully settled, he lost no time
in procuring as strong a party as possible. At the head
of these were the archbishop of St Andrew’s, and John
Baliol. That prelate, while he was in England, was
highly caressed by Edward, from whom he had great
expectations of preferment; and Baliol, having great
estates in England, considered Edward as his sove¬
reign. The bishop, on his return to Scotland, acted as
a spy for Edward, and carried on with him a secret cor¬
respondence, informing him of all public transactions.
It appears from this correspondence, that the Scots were
fair from being unanimous as to the marriage. Bruce
earl of Annandale suspected, for some reason or other,
that the young queen was dead ; and, soon after Mi¬
chaelmas 1290, assembled a body of forces, and was
joined by the earls of Mar and Athol. Intelligence of
these commotions wascarried to Edward by Baliol; and
the archbishop of St Andrew’s advised Edward, if the
report of the queen’s death should prove true, to march
a body of troops towards Scotland, in order to secure
such a successor as he might think proper.
Edward, in the mean time, consented to allow am¬
bassadors to be sent from Scotland to bring over the
young queen, previous to which, he appointed the bi¬
shop of Durham to be lieutenant in Scotland for the
queen and her future husband; and all the officers there,
both civil and military, obliged themselves to surrender
' their employments and fortresses to the king and que*n
(that is, to Edward) immediately on their arrival in
Scotland. But while the most magnificent preparations
were making for the reception of thequeen, intelligence j
of her death was received; but it is not certainly known Death of
whether this event happened before the arrival of the the queen,
ambassadors in Norway, or after her departure from An. ma
that country, probably the latter.
The Scots were thrown into the utmost consterna¬
tion by the news of the queen’s death ; while, on the
other hand, Edward was as well prepared as if he had
known what was to happen. The state of Scotland
at this time, indeed, was to the last degree deplorable, a number
The act of succession, established by the late king, had of compe-
no further operation, being determined by the death oftltorstor
the queen ; and since the crown was hereditary, therethe U0WR•
was no precedent by which it could be settled. The
Scots, in general, however, turned their eyes on
4 G 2 the
004 SCOT I
Scatlaml. t’ne posterity of David earl of Huntingdon, brother to
’ ^ 1 the two kings Malcolm the Maiden and his successor
William, both of whom died without lawful issue. The
earl had three daughters. Margaret, the eldest, was
married to Allan lord of Galloway; the only issue of
which marriage was Derverguiil wife to John Baliol,
who had a son of the same name, a competitor for the
crown. The second daughter, Isabella, was married
to Robert Bruce; and their son Robert wras likewise a
candidate. The third daughter, Ada, had been mar¬
ried to Henry Hastings, an English nobleman, and pre¬
decessor to the present earl of Huntingdon. John
Hastings, the son of this marriage, was a third compe¬
titor; but as his claim was confessedly the worst of the
three, he put in only for a third of the kingdom, on the
principle that his mother was joint-heir with her two
sisters (c). Several other claimants now started up. Flo¬
rence earl of Holland pretended to the crown of Scot¬
land in right of his great grandmother Ada, the eldest
lawful sister of William, formerly king; as did Robert
de Pynkeny, in the right of his great grandmother
Margery, second sister of the same King William.
Patrick Gallightly was the son of Henry Gallight-
ly, a bastard of William ; William de Ross was de¬
scended of Isabel; Patrick earl of March, of Ilda or
Ada ; and William de Vesci, of Margery ; all three
natural daughters of King William. Roger de Mande-
ville, descended from Aufrie, another natural daughter
of William, also put in his claim ; but the right of Ni¬
colas de Soulis, if bastardy could give a right, wras bet¬
ter than those of the former. His grandmother Mar¬
gery, the wife of Allan le Huissier, was a natural daugh¬
ter of Alexander II. and consequently sister to Alexan¬
der III. John Cummin lord of Badenoch derived his
claim from a more remote source, viz. Donald Bane,
who usurped the crown about 200 years before this
time; but he was willing to resign his pretensions in
favour of John Baliol. The last, indeed, had the best
right; and, had the succession been regulated as it is in
all hereditary kingdoms at this day, he would undoubt¬
edly have succeeded. Bruce and Hastings, however,
pleaded that they were preferable, not only to John Ba¬
liol the grandchild of Margaret, but also to Derver-
, A N D.
guill her daughter and his mother, for the following Scotian!
reason. Derverguiil and they were equally related to v
their grandfather Earl David : She was indeed the
daughter of his eldest daughter ; but she was a woman,
they were men; and, said they, the male in the same
degree ought to succeed to sovereignties, in their own
nature impartible, preferable to the female.
Notwithstanding this number of candidates, however,
it was soon perceived, that the claims- of all might be
cut off excepting those of two, viz. Baliol and Bruce,
of whom the former had the preference with respect to
hereditary right, and the latter as to popularity. Baliol
had strongly attached himself to Edward’s party; and
this being by far the most powerful in Scotland, gave
him a decided superiority over Bruce. The event was,
that Edward was appointed to decide between the two
competitors. It soon appeared, however, that Edward
had no intention of adjudging the crown to any person
but himself; for, in an assembly held at Norham on the
10th of May 1291, Brabanzon the chief justice of Eng¬
land informed the members, “ that his master was
come thither in consideration of the state of the realm
of Scotland, which was then without a king, to meet 114
them, as direct sovereign of that kingdom, to do justice Edvardl!
to the claimants of his crown, and to establish a solid dares hi t
tranquillity among his people; that it was not his inten-Stl/ sovjl
tion to retard justice, nor to usurp the right of any one, sAau[
©r to infringe the liberties of the kingdom of Scotland,
but to render to every one his due. And to the end this
might be done with the more ease, he required the as¬
sent of the states ex abundante, and that they should own
him as direct sovereign of the kingdom ; offering, on
that condition, to make use of their counsels to do what
justice demanded. ” The deputies were astonished at
this declaration, and replied, that they were by no means
prepared to decide on Edward's claim of superiority;
but that Edward ought previously to judge the cause
between the two competitors, and require homage from
him whom he should choose to be king. Edward
treated this excuse as trifling, and gave them till next
day to consider of his demand. According!)', on that
day, the assembly was held in Norham church, where
the deputies from Scotland insisted upon giving no an¬
swer
(c) The pedigree of the three principal competitors will be fully understood from the following scheme..
David I. King of Scots.
Henry Prince of Scotland.
David Earl of Huntingdon, second son.
S. Ada=Henry de Hastings. 2. Isabellas Robert Bruce.
Henry de Hastings., Hobkht Bruce,
competitor.
1. Margaret — Allan of Galloway.
John 3ahol~Dei verguill.
John de Hastings.
competitor^.
John Bahol,
competitor,.
i
S C O T L
jcotlamL gwcr to Edwardrs demands, which could be decided
only by the whole community ; representing, at the
same time, that numbers of the noblemen and prelates
were absent, and that they must have time to know
their sense of the affair. In consequence of this, Ed¬
ward gave them a delay of three weeks ; which interval
he employed in multiplying claimants to the crown
of Scotland, and in flattering all with'hopes, if they
would acknowledge his superiority. But when the as¬
sembly met, according to appointment, on the 2d of
dune following, they found the place of meeting sur¬
rounded by a numerons army of English. Edward
had employed the bishop of Durham to draw up the
, historical evidence of his right to the crown of Scot¬
land; which has since been published. In this paper
mention is made of the fealty and homage performed
by the kings of Scotland to the Anglo Saxon kings
of England ; but no sufficient evidence is brought of
any such homage being actually performed. As to the
homage paid by the kings of Scotland from the time
of William the Conqueror to that of the dispute be¬
tween Bruce and Baliol, the Scots never denied it;
but they contended, and indeed with justice, that it
was paid for the lands which they held from the
crown of England; and they alleged, that it was as
far removed from any relation to a fealty or homage
performed for the crown of Scotland, as the homage
paid by the English monarchs to the crown of France
was removed from all relation to the crown of Eng¬
land. With regard to the homage paid by Wiilratrt
king of Scotland to Henry II. of England, it was not
denied that he performed it for the whole kingdom of
Scotland: but they pleaded that it was void of itself,
because it w'as extorted when William w'as a prisoner
to Henry; and they produced Richard I.’s charters,
w hich pronounced it to have been compulsive and ini¬
quitous.
But, however urgent these reasons of the Scots might
be, Edward wfas by no means disposed to examine into
their merits. Instead of this, he closeted the several
pretenders to the crown ; and having found them all
ready to comply with his measures, he drew up the fol¬
lowing charter of recognition to he signed by them all.
115 “ To all who shall hear this present letter.
Tieeandi- << \ye Florence earl of Holland, Robert de Bruce
Lassen” ^orc^ Annandale, John Baliol lord of Galloway, John
^n. 1291. Hastings lord of Abergavenny, John Cummin lord of
Badenoch, Patrick de Dunbar, earl of March, John
Vesci for his father Nicholas Soulis, and William de
Ross, greeting in the Lord.
“ Whereas we intend to pursue our right to the
kingdom of Scotland ; and to declare, challenge, and
aver the same before him that hath most power, ju¬
risdiction, and reason to try it; and the noble prince
Edw'ard, by the grace of God king of England, &c.
having informed us, by good and sufficient reasons, that
to him belongs the sovereign seigniory of the same:
We therefore promise that wre will hold firm and stable
his act; and that he -hall enjoy the realm to whom it
shall be adjudged before him. In witness whereof,
we have set our seals to this writing, made and grant¬
ed at Norham, the Tuesday after the Ascension, in
the year of Grace 1291. ”
Edward then declared, by the mouth of his chan¬
cellor, that although, in the dispute which had arisen
AND. . 695
between the several claimants, touching the succession Scotland.
to the kingdom of Scotland, he acted in quality of so-   v~—^
w reign, in order to render justice to whomsoever it was
tlue; yet he did.not thereby mean to exclude himself
from the hereditary right which in his own person
he might have to that crown, and which right he in¬
tended to assert and improve when he should think
proper : and the king himself repeated this protestation
in French. The candidates were then severally called
upon by the English chancellor, to declare whether
they were willing to acknowledge Edward’s claim of
superiority over the crown of Scotland, and to submit
to his-award in disposing of the same ; which being an¬
swered in the affirmative, they were then admitted to
prove their rights. But this was mere matter of form ;
for all the force of England was then assembled on the'
borders in order to support the claims of Edward, and
nothing now remained but to furnish him with a suffi¬
cient pretext for making use of it. He observed, that
the Scots were not so unanimous as they ought to be in ]r
recognising his superiority, and that the submission, Edward
which had been signed by the candidates, was not suffi-demands
cient to cany it into execution. For this rea -on he de-Pussession
manded that all the forts in Scotland should be nut? f'i1!]6
into ms possession, that he might resign them to thepiacesin
successful candidate. Scotland,
Though nothing could be more shameful than a tame
compliance with this last demand, the regency of Scot¬
land without hesitation yielded al-o to it; for which ]I7
they gave the following reasons. “ That whereas they which is
(the states of Scotland), had, with one assent, already fgrL>ed to-
granted that King Edward, as superior lord of Scot- l)-v t!ie
land, should give sentence as to their several rights and
titles to the crown of Scotland, &c. hut as the said king,
of England cannot put his judgment in full execution
to answer effectually w iihout the possession or seisin of
the said country and its castles ; we will, grant, and as¬
sent, that he, as sovereign lord thereof, to perform the
things aforesaid, shall have seitin of all the lands and
castles in Scotland, until right be done to the deunand-
ants, and to the guardians and community of the king¬
dom of Scotland, to restore both it and its castles, with
all the royalties, dignities, franchises, customs, rights,-
laws, usages and possessions, with their appurtenances^,
in the same state and condition in which they were when,
he received them ; saving to the king of England the-
homage of him that shall he king ; so as they may he
restored within two months after the day on which the
rights shall be determined and affirmed; and that the
profits of the nation which shall be received in the mean
time shall be kept in the hands of the chamberlain of
Scotland that now is, and one to be joined with him
by the king of England ; so that the charge of the
government, castles, and officers of the realm, may be
deducted. In witness whereof, &c. ”
For these reasons, as it is said, the regency put into-
the hands of Edward all the forts in the country. Gil- •
bert de Umfreville alone, who had the command of
the castles of Dundee and Forfar, refused to deliver*
them up, until he should be indemnified by the states*
and by Edward himself, from all penalties of treason
of which he might afterwards be in danger.
But though Edward had thus obtained possession of
the whole power of the nation, he did not think proper
to determine every thing by his own authority. Instead
oK
606 SCOT
Scotland, of this, he appointed commissioners, and promised to
'    grant letters patent declaring that sentence should be
Commit Passe^ in Scotland. It had been all along foreseen that
sioners ap- th0 great dispute would be between Bruce and Baliol;
pointed to and though the plea of Cummin was judged frivolous,
determine yet he was a man of too much influence to be neglect-
si'ons'of thect^ anc^ agreed tacitly to resign it in favour of Ba-
candidates. Edward accordingly made him the compliment
of joining him with Baliol in nominating 40 commis¬
sioners. Bruce was to name 40 more ; and the names
of the 80 were to be given in to Edward in three days ;
after which the king was to add to them 24 of his own
choosing. The place and time of meeting were left at
-their own option. They unanimously pitched upon
Berwick for the place of meeting; but as they could
not agree about the time, Edward appointed the second
of August following. Soon after this, the regents re¬
signed their commissions to Edward; but he returned
them, with powers to act in his name ; and he nominat¬
ed the bishop of Caithness to be chancellor of Scotland;
joining in the commission with him Walter de He-
mondesham an Englishman, and one of his own secre¬
taries. Still, however, he met with many difficulties.
Many of his own great men, particularly the earl of
Gloucester, were by no means fond of increasing the
power of the English monarch by the acquisition of Scot¬
land ; and therefore threw such obstacles in his way,
that he was again obliged to have recourse to negotia¬
tion and intrigue, and at last to delay the meeting un¬
til the second of June in 1292 : but during this inter¬
val, that he might the better reconcile the Scots to the
loss of their liberty, he proposed an union of the two
kingdoms ; and for this he issued a writ by virtue of
his superiority.
An. 1292. The commissioners having met on the second of June
1292, ambassadors for Norway presented themselves in
the assembly, demanding that their master should be
admitted into the number of the claimants, as father and
next heir to the late queen. This demand too was
admitted by Edward, after the ambassadors had ac¬
knowledged his superiority over Scotland ; after which
he proposed that the claims of Bruce and Baliol should
be previously examined, but without prejudice to those
of the other competitors. This being agreed to, he
ordered the commissioners to examine by what laws
they ought to proceed in forming their report. The
discussion of this question was attended with such dif¬
ficulty, and the opinions on it were so various, that
Edward once more adjourned the assembly to the 12th
of October following ; at which time he required the
members to give their opinions on the two following
• points : 1. By what laws and customs they ought to
proceed to judgment; and, supposing there could be
no law or precedent found in the two kingdoms, in what
manner ? 2. Whether the kingdom of Scotland ought
to be taken in the same view as all other fiefs, and to
be awarded in the same manner as earldoms and ba¬
ronies ? The commissioners replied, that Edward ought
to give justice conformable to the usage of the two
kingdoms : but that if no certain laws or precedents
could be found, he might by the advice of his great
men, enact a new law. In answer to the second question
they said, that the succession to the kingdom might be
awarded in the same manner as that to other estates and
gfeat baronies. Upon this, Edward ordered Bruce
LAND.
and Baliol to be called before him; and both of them Scotland
urged their respective pleas, and answers, to the fol- -v~—
lowing purpose. jjg
Bruce pleaded, 1. That Alexander II. despairing of Pleas of
heirs of his own body, had declared that he held him to Bruce a«<
be the true heir, and offered to prove by the testimony
of persons still alive, that he declared this with the ad¬
vice and in the presence of the good men of his king¬
dom. Alexander III. also had declared to those with
whom he was intimate, that, failing issue of his own
body, Bruce was his right heir. The people of Scot¬
land also had taken an oath for maintaining the succes¬
sion of the nearest in blood to Alexander III. who
ought of right to inherit, failing Margaret the Maiden
of Norway and her issue.—Baliol answered, that nothing
could be concluded from the acknowledgement of Alex¬
ander II. for that he left heirs of his body; but made
no answer to what was said of the sentiments of Alex¬
ander III. and of the oath made by the Scottish na¬
tion to maintain the succession of the next of blood.
2. Bruce pleaded, that the right of reigning ought
to be decided according to the natural law by which
kings reign, and not according to any law or usage
in force between subject and subject: That by the
law of nature, the nearest collateral in blood has a right
to the crown ; but that the constitutions which prevail
among vassals, bind not the lord, much less the so¬
vereign : That although, in private inheritances which
are divisible, the eldest female heir has a certain pre¬
rogative, it is not so in a kingdom that is indivisible ;
there the nearest heir of blood is preferable whenever
the succession opens.—To this Baliol replied, that the
claimants were in the court of their lord paramount;
and that he ought to give judgment in this case, as in
the case of any other tenements, depending on his
crown, that is, by the common law and usage of his
kingdom, and no other. That by the laws and usages
of England, the eldest female heir is preferred in the
succession to all inheritances, indivisible as well as di¬
visible,
3. It was urged by Bruce, that the manner of suc¬
cession to the kingdom of Scotland in former times, was
in favour of his claim ; for that the brother, as being
nearest in degree, was wont to be preferred to the son
of the deceased king. Thus, when Kenneth Macalpin
died, his brother Donald was preferred to his son Con¬
stantine, and this was confirmed by several other au¬
thentic instances in the history of Scotland.—Baliol
answered, that if the brother was preferred to the son
of the king, the example militated against Bruce ; for
that the son, not the brother, was the nearest in degree.
He admitted, that after the death of Malcolm III. his
brother usurped the throne ; but he contended, that
the son of Malcolm complained to his liege lord the
king of England, who dispossessed the usurper, and
placed the son of Malcolm on the throne; that after
the death of that son the brother of Malcolm III. again
usurped the throne; but the king of England again
dispossessed him, and raised Edgar, the second son of
Malcolm, to the sovereignty.
4. Bruce pleaded, that .there are examples in other
countries, particularly in Spain and Savoy, where the
son of the second daughter excluded the grandson of
the eldest daughter Baliol answered, that examples
from foreign countries are of no importance ; for that,
according
SCOTLAND.
I cot land, according to the laws of England and Scotland, where
-Y-—' kings reign by succession in the direct line, and earls
and barons succeed in like manner, the issue of the
younger sister, although nearer in degree, excludes not
the issue of the eldest sister, although more remote;
but the succession continues in the direct line.
5. Bruce pleaded, that a female ought not to reign,
as being incapable of governing : That at the death
of Alexander III. the mother of Baliol was alive; and
as she could not reign, the kingdom devolved upon him,
as being the nearest male heir of the blood royal. But
to this Baliol replied, that Bruce’s argument was in¬
consistent with his claim : for that if a female ought
not to reign, Isabella the mother of Bruce ought not,
nor must Bruce himself claim through her. Besides,
Bruce himself had sworn fealty to a female, the maiden
120 of Norway.
figment The arguments being thus stated on both sides, Ed-
Tr'of war^ demanded an answer from the council as to the
j 0 merits of the competitors. He also put the following
’ question to them: By the laws and usages of both
kingdoms, does the issue of the eldest sister, though
more remote in one degree, exclude the issue of the
second sister, though nearer in one degree ? or ought
the nearer in one degree, issuing from the second sis¬
ter, to exclude the more remote in one degree issuing
from the eldest sister? To this it was answered una¬
nimously, That by the laws and usages of both king¬
doms, in every heritable succession, the more remote
in one degree lineally descended from the eldest sis¬
ter, was preferable to the nearer in degree issuing from
the second sister. In consequence of this, Bx*uce was
excluded from the succession; on which he entered a
claim for one third of the kingdom : but being baffled
in this also, the kingdom of Scotland being determin¬
ed an indivisible fee, Edward ordered John Baliol to
have seisin of Scotland; with this caveat, however,
“ That this judgment should not impair his claim to
121 the property of Scotland. ”
I 1018 After so many disgraceful and humiliating conces-
| at sions on the part of the Scots, John Baliol was crown-
I th Nov. ed king at Scone on the 30th November 1292; and
I 92, finished the ceremony by doing homage to the king of
England. All his submissions, however, could not
satisfy Edward, as long as the least shadow of indepen¬
dence remained to Scotland. A citizen of Berwick
appealed from a sentence of the Scots judges appointed
N by Edward, in order to carry his cause into England.
But this was opposed by Baliol, who pleaded a promise
made by the English monarch, that he should “ ob¬
serve the laws and usages of Scotland, and not with-
122 draw any causes from Scotland into his English courts.”
wglny Edward replied, that it belonged to him to hear the
Edward complaints made against his own ministers ; and con¬
cluded with asserting his right, not only to try Scots
causes in England, but to summon the king of Scot¬
land, if necessary, to appear before him in person.
Baliol had no spirit to resist; and therefore signed a
most disgraceful instrument, by which he declared,
that all the obligations wfflich Edward had come under
were already fulfilled, and therefore that he discharged
them all.
Edward now thought proper to give Baliol some
marks of his favour, the most remarkable of which was
giving him seisin of the Isle of Man ; but it soon ap-
60*7
peared that he intended to exercise his rights of supe- Scotland,
riority in the most provoking manner. The first in- y—
stance was in the case of Malcolm earl of Fife. This
nobleman had two sons, Colban his heir, and another
who is constantly mentioned in history by the family-
name of Macduff.—It is said, that Malcolm put Mac¬
duff in possession of the lands of Ileres and Crey.
Malcolm died in 1266 ; Colban his son, in 1270; Dun¬
can the son of Colban, in ] 288. To this last earl, his
son Duncan, an infant, succeeded. During the non¬
age of this Duncan, grandnephew of Macduff, William
archbishop of St Andrew’s, guardian of the earldom,
dispossessed Macduff. He complained to Edward; who
having ordered his cause to be tried, restored him again
to possession. Matters were in this state when Baliol
held his first parliament at Scone, 10th February 1293.
There Macduff was cited to answer for having taken
possession of the lands of Reres and Crey, which were
in possession of the king since the death of the last earl
of Fife. As his defences did not satisfy the court, he
was condemned to imprisonment; but an action was re¬
served to him against Duncan, w hen he should come of
age, and against his heirs. In all this defence, it is'
surprising that Macduff should have omitted his strong¬
est argument, viz. that the regents, by Edward’s au¬
thority, had put him in possession, and that Baliol had
ratified all things under Edward’s authority. How¬
ever, as soon as he was set at liberty, he petitioned
Baliol for a rehearing; but this being refused, he ap¬
pealed to Edw'ard, who ordered Baliol to appear he-
fore him in person on the 25th of March 1293: butHesum-
as Baliol did not obey this order, he summoned him mons lia-
again to appear on the 14th of October. In the mean
time the English parliament drew up certain standing e °
orders in cases of appeal from the king of Scots ; all An.’ 1293*
of which were harsh and captious. One of these re¬
gulations provided, “ that no excuse of absence should
be received either from the appellant, or the king of
Scotland, respondent; but that the parties might have
counsel if they required it. ” 134*
Though Baliol had not the courage to withstand the who be-
second summons of Edward, he behaved w ith consider- h“ves '7ltfl
able resolution at the trial. The cause of Macduff be- Thisuial*-
ing brought on, Edward asked Baliol what he had to
offer in his own defence; to which he replied, “ I am
King of Scotland. To the complaint of Macduff, or
to ought else respecting my kingdom, I dare not make
answer without the advice of my people. ”—Edward
affected surprise at this refusal, after the submissions
which Baliol had already made him ; but the latter
steadily replied, “ In matters respecting my kingdom,
I neither dare wor can answer in this place, without the
advice of my people. ” Edwrard then desired him to
ask a further adjournment, that he might advise with the
nation. But Baliol, perceiving that his doing so wmuld
imply an acquiescence in Edward’s right of requiring
his personal attendance on the English courts, replied,
“ That he would neither ask a longer day, nor consent' ]2-
to an adjournment. ”—It was then resolved by the par- His sea-,
liament of England, that the king of Scotland had of- tence.
fered no defence ; that he had made evasive and disre¬
spectful answers; and that he was guilty of manifest
contempt of the court, and of open disobedience. To.
recompense Macduff for his imprisonment, he was or¬
dered damages from the king of Scots, to be taxed by
the.
608
SCOT L A N D.
Scotland.
126
Edward’s
demands
on Scot¬
land.
127
The Scots
enter into
an alliance
with
France.
An. 1294.
the conrt; and It was also determined that Edward
should inquire, according to the usages of the country,
whe ther Macduff recovered the tenements in question
by the judgment of the king's court, and whether he
was dispossessed by the king of Scots. It was also re¬
solved, that the three principal castles of Scotland, with
the towns in which they were situated, and the royal
jurisdiction over them, should be taken into the custody
of the king, and there remain until the king of Scots
should make satisfaction for his contempt and disobedi¬
ence. But, before this judgment was publicly intimat¬
ed, Baliol addressed Edward in the following words :
“ My lord, I am your liege-man for the kingdom of
Scotland ; that, whereof you have lately treated, re¬
spects my people no less than myself: I therefore pray
you to delay it until I have consulted my people, lest I
be surprised through want of advice: They who are
now with me, neither will nor dare advise me in ab¬
sence of the rest of my kingdom. After I have advised
with them, I will in your first parliament after Easter
report the result, and do to you what I ought. ”
In consequence of this address, Edward, with consent
of Macduff, stopped all proceedings till the day after
the feast of Trinity 1294-. But before this term Ed¬
ward wras obliged to suspend all proceedings against the
Scots, in consequence of a war which broke out with
France. In a parliament held this year by Edward,
the king of Scotland appeared, and consented to surren¬
der the whole revenues of his English estates for three
years to assist Edward against his enemy. He .was also
requested and ordered, by Edward to extend an embargo
laid upon the English vessels all over Scotland; and this
embargo to endure until the king of England's further
pleasure should be known. He also requested Baliol to
send some troops for an expedition into Gascony, and
required the presence and aid of several of the Seostish
barons for the same purpose. The Scots, however,
eluded the commands of Edward, by pretending that
they could not bring any considerable force into the
field; and, unable to bear his tyranny any longer, they
negoeiated an alliance with Philip king of France. Hav¬
ing assembled a parliament at Scone, they prevailed
upon Baliol to dismiss all the Englishmen whom he
maintained at his court. They then appointed a com¬
mittee of twelve, four bishops, four earls, and four barons,
by whose advice every tiling was to be regulated ; and,
if we may credit the English historians, they watched
the conduct of Baliol himself, and detained him in a kind
of honourable captivity. They could not, however,
prevent him from delivering up the castles of Berwick,
Roxburgh, and Jedburgh, to the bishop of Carlisle; in
whose custody they were to remain during the war be¬
tween England and France, as a pledge of his allegi¬
ance. Notwithstanding this, Baliol concluded the al¬
liance with Philip; by which it was stipulated, that the
latter should give in marriage the eldest daughter of
the count of Anjou to Baliol's son ; and it was also
provided, that Baliol should not marry again without
the consent of Philip. The king of Scotland engaged
to assist Philip in his wars at his own expense, and
with his whole power, especially if Edward invaded
France ; and Philip on his part engaged to assist Scot¬
land, in case of an English invasion, either by making
ii diversion, or by sending succours to the Scotch.
Elated with the hopes of assistance from France, the
1
Scots invaded Cumberland with a mighty army, and Scotland
laid siege to Carlisle. The men abandoned the place;'■-’■‘’V*
but the women mounted the walls, and drove the assail- ^ ^8
ants from the attack. Another incursion into North-^ ^(jeCd'
umberland proved almost as disgraceful. Their whole England
exploits consisted in burning a nunnery at Lumley, and ’' ithout \
a monastery at Corebridge, though dedicated to theirsuccess’
patron St Andrew; but having attempted to storm the
castle of Harbottle, they were repulsed with lots. In
tire mean time Edward, with an army equal in number
to that of the Scots, but much superior in respect
of discipline, invaded the eastern coast of Scotland.
Berwick had either not been delivered according to
promise, or had been resumed by the Scots, and was now f
defended by a numerous garrison. Edward assaulted Berwickj
it by sea and land. The ships which began the attack t®Ke.n> :1I|
were all either burnt or disabled; but Edward having
led on his army in person, took the place by storm, and sacred bj
cruelly butchered the inhabitants, to the number of Edward.
8000, w ithout distinction of sex or age. In this town
there was a building called the lled-7/nll, possessed by
certain Flemings, by the tenure of defending it at all
times against the king of England. Thirty of these
maintained their ground for a whole day against the
English army; but at night the building being set on
fire, all of them perished in the flames. The same day
the castle capitulated ; the garrison, consisting of 2000
men, marched out with all the honours of war, after
having sworn never to bear arms against England. 5-0
In the mean time, Baliol, by the advice of his par- Baliol’s t
liament, solemnly and openly renounced his allegiance nunciatij!
to Edward, sending him the following declaration 0i !“Nal!
To the magnificent prince, Edward, by the grace "Ej-jl
of God, king of England ; John, by the same grace,
king of Scotland.
“ Whereas you, and others of your kingdom, you
not being ignorant, or having cause of ignorance, by
your violent power, have notoriously and frequently
done grievous and intolerable injuries, contempts, grie¬
vances, and strange damages against us, the liberties of
our kingdom, and against God and justice ; citing us,
at your pleasure, upon every slight suggestion, out of
our kingdom ; unduly vexing us ; seizing our castles,
lands, and possessions, in your kingdom; unjustly, and
for no fault of ours, taking the goods of our subjects,
as well by sea as land, and carrying them into your
kingdom; killing our merchants, and others of our
kingdom; carrying away our subjects and imprisoning
them : For the reformation of which things, we sent
our messengers to you, which remain not only unre¬
dressed, but there is every day an addition of worse
things to them; for now you are come with a great army
upon the borders, for the disinheriting us, and the in¬
habitants of our kingdom; and, proceeding, have in¬
humanly committed slaughter, burnings, and violent
invasions, as w'ell by sea as land : We not being able
to sustain the said injuries, grievances, and damages
any longer, nor to remain in your fealty or homage,
extorted by your violent oppression, restore them to
you, for ourself, and all the inhabitants of our king¬
dom, as well for the lands we hold of you in your king¬
dom, as for your pretended government over us.
Edward was presented with this renunciation by the
hands of the intrepid Henry, abbot of Aberbrothwick ;
and as it was favourable to his political views, he re¬
ceived
1
SCOT
Gotland, cexvedhratherwlth contempt than anger. “Thefoolish
—V"—' traitor,” said he to the abbot, “ since he will not come
to us, we will go to him. ” The abbot had been per¬
suaded by his enemies, of whom he had many in Scot¬
land, to present this letter, in hopes that Edward would
have put him to death ; but he had address enough to
escape without receiving any other answer.
Though this scheme of renunciation had been con¬
certed some time before, the declaration was not sent
to Edward till after the taking of Berwick. The fate
of Scotland, after it, however, was soon decided. The
earl of March had sided with Edward, but the countess
betrayed his castle of Dunbar into the hands of the
131 Scots. Edward sent a chosen body of troops to recover
he Scots the place. The whole force of Scotland opposed them
feated at on the heights above Dunbar; but leaving their ad-
unbar. yantageous post, and pouring down on their enemies
in confusion, they were dispersed and defeated.
The castle of Dunbar surrendered at discretion; that
of Roxburgh followed the same example ; the castle of
Edinburgh surrendered after a short siege; and Stirling
was abandoned. The Scots, in the mean time, were
guilty of the greatest extravagances. During the short
interval between the loss of Berwick and the defeat at
Dunbar, an order was made for expelling all the English
ecclesiastics who held benefices in England ; all the
partisans of England, and all neutrals, were declared
in. 1296. traitors, and their estates confiscated. But the great
132 successes of Edward soon put an end to these impotent
iliol sub- acts of fury. Baliol was obliged to implore the mercy
^to of the conqueror. Divested of his royal ornaments,
Isrard. an(j bearing a white rod in his hand, he performed a
most humiliating penance ; confessing that by evil and
false counsel, and through his own simplicity, he had
grievously offended his liege lord. He recapitulated
his various transgressions, in concluding an alliance
with France while at enmity with England ; in con-
tracting his son with the niece of the French king ; in
renouncing his fealty ; in attacking the English terri¬
tories, and in resisting Edward. He acknowledged
the justice of the English invasion and conquest; and
therefore he, of his own free consent, resigned Scotland,
its people, and their homage, to his liege-lord Edward,
2d July, 1296.
L A N D. 609'
The king of England pursued his conquests, the Scotland,
barons everywhere crowding in to swear fealty to him, U"1
and renounce their allegiance to France. His jour-
ney ended at Elgin, from whence he returned south- suijdued.
ward ; and, as an evidence of his having made an abso¬
lute conquest of Scotland he carried off from Scone
the wooden chair in which the kings were usually
crowned. This chair had for its bottom the fatal stone
regarded as the national palladium (d). Some of the
charters belonging to the abbey were carried off, and
the seals torn from others.
On the 28th of August 1296, Edward held a par¬
liament at Berwick, where he received the fealty of
the clergy and laity of Scotland. It is said, that while
the English monarch was employed in the conquest of
Scotland, he had promised the sovereignty to Robert
Bruce, lord of Annandale, in order to secure his fideli¬
ty ; but being put in mind of his promise, he answer¬
ed, “ Have I no other business but to conquer king¬
doms for you ? ” Bruce silently retired, and passed his
days in obscurity. Among those who professed their
allegiance at this parliament was Robert Bruce the
younger, earl of Garrick. After this, Edward took
the most effectual methods of securing his new conquest.
He ordered the estates of the clergy to be restored; and
having received the fealty of the widows of many of the
Scottish barons, he put them in possession of their join¬
ture-lands, and even made a decent provision for the
wives of many of his prisoners. Yet, though in every
thing he behaved with great moderation towards the
Scots, he committed the government of certain districts,
and of the chief castles in the south of Scotland, to his
English subjects, of whose fidelity and vigilance he
thought himself assured. In order to conciliate the af¬
fections of the clergy, he granted to the Scottish bishops,
for ever, the privilege of bequeathing their effects by
will, in the same manner as that privilege was enjoyed
by the archbishops and bishops of England. In honour
of the “ glorious confessor St Cuthbert, ” he gave to
the monks of Durham an annual pension of 40 pounds,
payable out of the revenues of Scotland, by the tenure
of maintaining, before the shrine of the saint, two wax
tapers of 20 pounds weight each, and of distributing
twice a year one penny each to 3000 indigent persons.
At
(n) This stone is thus described by W. Hemingford, tom. i. p. 37* “ Apud monasterium de Scone positus
erat lapis pergrandis in ecclesia Dei, juxta magnum altare, concavus quidem ad modurn rotunda; cathedra; confec-
tus, in quo futuri reges loco quasi coronationis ponebantur ex more. Rege itaque novo in lapide posito, missarum
solemnia incepta peraguntur, et prmterquam in elevatione sacri dominici corporis, semper lapidatus, mansit. ”
And again, tom. i. p. 100. “ In redeundo per Scone, prsecepit tolli et Londoniis cariari, lapidem ilium, in quo,
ut supra dictunrest, reges Scotorum solebant poni loco coronationis suae, et hoc in dgnum regni conquesti et re-
signati.” Walsingham mentions the use to which Edward put this stone: “ Ad Westmonasterium transtulit
ilium, jubens inde fieri celebrantium cathedram sacerdotum. ” This account of the fatal stone is here transcrib¬
ed, that it may be compared with the appearance of the stone that now bears its name at Westminster.
Fordun has preserved the ancient rhymes concerning it; lib. xi. c. 25.
“ Flic rex sic totam Scotiam fecit sibi notam,
Qui sine mensura tulit inde jocalia plura,
Et pariter lapidem, Scotorum quern fore sedem
Regum decrevit fatum ; quod sic inolevit,
Ni Jhllat Jatum, Scoti qudcunque locatum
Invenient lapidem, regnare tenentur ibidem.'’
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
610
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
134
Now dis¬
til rbances.
135
At last, having settled every thing, as he thought, in
tranquillity, he departed for England, with all the
triumph of a conqueror.
The tranquillity established by Edward was, how¬
ever, of short duration. The government of Scotland
at that time required many qualities which Edward's
vicegerents did not possess. Warenne, earl of Surrey,
who had been appointed governor, took up his abode in
England, an pretence of recovering his health. Cres-
singham, the treasurer, was a voluptuous, proud, and
sellish ecclesiastic ; while Ormesby the justiciary was
hated for his severity. Under these officers the admi¬
nistration of Edward became more and more feeble ;
bands of robbers infested the highways, and the English
Sir William government was universally despised. At this critical
moment arose Sir William Wallace, the hero so much
n" celebrated in Scottish fables, by which indeed his real
exploits are so much obscured, that it is difficult to give
an authentie relation of them. The most probable ac¬
count, is, that he was the younger son of a gentleman
( Wallace of Ellerslie) in Renfrewshire (e). Having
been outlawed for some offence, he associated with a
few companions, of fortunes equally desperate with his
own. Wallace himself was endowed with great strength
and courage, and an active and ambitious spirit ; and
by his affability, eloquence, and wisdom, he maintained
an authority over the rude and undisciplined multitudes
who flocked to his standard. In May 1297, he began
to infest the English quarters ; and being successful in
his predatory incursions, his party became more nume¬
rous, and he wjis joined by Sir William Douglas. With
their united forces, these two allies attempted to surprise
Ormesby the justiciary, while he held his courts at
Scone ; but he saved himself by a precipitate flight.
After this the Scots roved over the whole country, as¬
saulted qastles, and massacred the English. Their party
was joined by many persons of rank ; among whom
were Robert Wishavt bishop of Glasgow, the steward of Scat!anf
Scotland (e), and his brother Alexander de Lindsay,' v—
Sir Richard Lundin, and Sir Andrew Moray of Both-
well. Young Bruce would have been a vast accession
to the party ; for he possessed all Garrick and Annan-
dale, so that, his territories readied from the frith of
Clyde to Solway. But the wardens of the western
marches of England suspected his fidelity, and summon¬
ed him to Carlisle. He obeyed, and made oath on the
consecrated host, and on the sword of Becket, to be
faithful and vigilant in the cause of Edward; and to
prove his sincerity, he invaded with fire and sword the
estate of Sir William Douglas,, and carried off his wife
and children. However, he instantly repented of what
he had done : “ I trust (said he), that the pope will
absolve me from an extorted oath ; ” on which he a-
bandoned Edward, and joined the Scottish army.
All this time Edward was in France, not in the least-
suspecting an insurrection among people whom he ima¬
gined he had thoroughly subdued. As soon as he re¬
ceived the intelligence, he ordered the earl of Surrey to
suppress the rebels ; but he declining the command of
the army himself on account of his health, resigned it
to his nephew, Lord Henry Percy. A great army,
some say no fewer than 40,000 men, was now' assem¬
bled, with which Percy marched against the Scots. He
found them encamped at Irvine, with a lake in their
front, and their flank secured by intrenchments, so
that they could not be attacked without the utmost ^
danger. The Scots, however, ruined every thing by Dissenskl
their dissensions. Wallace was envied on account of hisoftheSci|
accomplishments, which had raised hisreputation above
the other officers, whose birth and circumstances were
higher than his. His companions accordingly became
jealous, and began to suggest, that an opposition to the
English could only be productive of further national de¬
struction. Sir Richard Lundin, an officer of great rank,
formed
( e) The descent of Sir William Wallace has scarcely been carried with accuracy beyond his father, Wallace
of Eilcr>lie. It ha> been supposed that the family of Wallace or Walleys, came originally from Wales; but
according to Mr Chalmers, they were an Anglo-Norman family, originally denominated Walense, of whom
Ilichai d Walense, who appears as a witness to the charters of Walter, the son of Alan, the first of the Stewarts,,
acquired lands in Kyle, in Ayrshire, where he settled. This Richard was succeeded by his son Richard, who
was cotemporary with Alan, the son of Walter the Stewart. Another branch of the family of Walense settled
m Renfrewshire, under the kindly influence of the Stewarts; and of this branch Henry Walense, probably a
younger son of the first Richard, held some lands in Renfrewshire under Walter the Stewart in the early part
of the 13th century, hrom this Henry was descended Malcolm Waleys of Ellersly, the father of Sir William.
Wallace, the champion of Scottish independence.
We find that the family of Wallace was patronised by that of Stewart, which now began to make a distin¬
guished figure in Scottish history. I he genealogy of this illustrious house has been much disputed, and is
involved in gieat obscurity. Mr Chalmers seems to have thrown considerable light on the origin of the
Stewarts, ami has traced them farther back than the generality of historians. According to this writer, Wal¬
ter the son of Alan, who is generally considered as the first of the Stewarts, came from Shropshire in England,
and hi!* father Alan was the son of Flaald ; and the younger brother of William, son of Alan, the piogenitor of
the famous house of Fitz-Alan, earls of ArundeL Alan the son of Fiaald married the daughter of Warine,
the famous sheriff of Shropshire, soon after the Norman conquest, in which both these families bore a part in
the suite ot William ; and of this marriage was born William, the undoubted heir both of Alan and of Warine.
Now, Richard Fitz-Alan, earl of Arundel, who in 1335 claimed the post of steward of Scotland by hereditary,
right, and sold this title and claim to Edward HI. for 1000 merks, had not, according to Mr Chalmers, any
right to the stewardship of Scotland ; but Walter, the younger brother of William, the son of Alan, the pro¬
genitor of Richard Fitz-Alan the claimant, was the first purchaser of this heuditary office. Robert the
il tew'ait, who was born of Margery, the daughter of Robert Bruce in 1316, and became king of Scots in 1370,
was then in possession of the hereditary office of Stetvaj-t by lineal descent.
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, formed a party against Wallace, and went over to Ed-
—ward with all his followers. Other leaders entered in¬
to a negotiation with the English. Bruce the steward,
and his brother Alexander de Lindesay, and Sir Wil¬
liam Douglas, acknowledged their offences, and made
submissions to Edward for themselves and their ad-
157 herents.
tost of This scandalous treaty seems to have been negociated
cm sub- by the bishop of Glasgow ; and their recantation is re-
iMish'*3 cor^e^ 'n the following words.—“ Be it known to all
men : Whereas we, with the commons of our country,
did rise in arms against our lord Edward, and against
his peace, in his territories of Scotland and Galloway,
did burn, slay, and commit divers robberies ; we there¬
fore, in our own name, and in the name of all our ad¬
herents, agree to make every reparation and atonement
that shall be required by our sovereign lord ; reserving
always what is contained in a writing which we have
procured from Sir Henry Percy and Sir Robert Clif¬
ford, commanders of the English forces ; at Irvine,
9th July 1297.” To this instrument was subjoined,
“ Escrit a Sire Willaume; ” the meaning of which
Lord Hailes supposes to be, that the barons had noti¬
fied to Sir William Wallace, their having made terms
of accommodation for themselves and their party,
Edward accepted the submission of the Scottish ba¬
rons who had been in arms, and granted liberty to those
whom he had made prisoners in the course of the former
year,, on condition that they should serve him in his wars
against France. The inconstancy of Bruce, however,
was so great, that acknowledgments of submission or
oaths of fealty were not thought sufficiently binding on
him ; for which reason the bishop of Glasgow, the Stew¬
ard, and Alexander de Lindesay, became sureties for
his loyalty and good behaviour, until he should deliver
138 his daughter Margery as an hostage.
'allace Wallace alone refused to be concerned in these shame-
illbokls ful submissions ; and, with a few resolute followers, re¬
solved to submit to every calamity rather than give up
the liberty of hkcountry. The barons had undertaken
to procure his submission as well as their own; but find¬
ing that to be impossible, the bishop of Glasgow and Sir
William Douglasvoluntarily surrendered themselves pri¬
soners to the English. Edward, however, ascribed this
voluntary surrender, not to any honourable motive, but
to treachery. He asserted, that Wishart repaired to the
castle of Roxburgh under pretence of yielding himself
up, but with the concealed purpose of forming a con¬
spiracy in order to betray that castle to the Scots ; and
in proof of this, Edward appealed to intercepted letters
of Wishart. On the other hand, Wallace, ascribing
the bishop’s conduct to traitorous pusillanimity, plun¬
dered his house, and carried off his family captives.
Immediately after the defection of the barons at
Irvine, Wallace with his band of determined followers
attacked the rear of the English army, and plundered
their baggage ; but was obliged to retire, with the
loss of 1000 men. He then found himself deserted by
almost all the.men of eminence and property. His ar¬
my, however, increased considerably by the accession of
numbers of inferior rank, and he again began to act on
the offensive. While he employed himself in besieging
the castle of Dundee, he was informed that the Eng¬
lish army approached Stirling. Wallace, having char¬
ged the citizens of Dundee, under pain of death, to
611
continue the blockade of the castle, hastened with all Scotland.
his troops to gua; d the important passage of the Forth ; v
and encamped behind a rising ground in the neighbour¬
hood of the abbey of Carnbnskenneth. Brian Eitz-Al¬
lan had been appointed governor of Scotland by Ed¬
ward ; but Warenne, who waited the arrival of his suc¬
cessor, remained with the army. Imagining that Wal¬
lace might be induced by fair means to lay down his
arms, he despatched two friars to the Scottish camp,
with terms of capitulation. “ Return, ” said Wallace,
“ and tell your masters, that wre came not here to treat
but to assert our right, and to set Scotland free. Let ^
them advance, they will find us prepared. ” The Eng-.Gives the
lish, provoked at this answer, demanded impatiently to English a
be led on to battle. Sir Richard Lundin remonstrated•Sreat de-
against the absurdity of making a numerous army pass
by a long narrow bridge in presence of the enemy. He iotj,
told them, that the Scots would attack them before tember
they could form on the plain to the north of the bridge,129**
and thus certainly defeat them : at the same time he of¬
fered to show them a ford, which having crossed with
500 horse, and a chosen detachment of infantry, he pro¬
posed to come round upon the rear of the enemy, and
by this diversion facilitate the operalions of the main
body. This proposal being rejected, the English army
began to pass over; which was no sooner perceived by
Wallace, than he rushed down upon them, and broke
them in a moment. Cressingham the treasurer was
killed, and many thousands were slain on the field, or
drowned in their flight. The loss of the Scots would
have been inconsiderable, had it not been for that of
Sir Andrew Moray, the intimate friend and companion
of Wallace, who was mortally wounded in the engage¬
ment.
The victory at Stirling w’as followed by the surren¬
der of Dundee castle, and other places of strength in
Scotland ; at the same time the Scots took possession of
Berwick, which the English had evacuated. But as a
famine now took place in Scotland from bad seasons and
the miseries of war, Wallace marched with his whole
army into England, that he might in some measure .re¬
lieve the necessities of his countrymen by plundering
the enemy. This expedition lasted three weeks, dur¬
ing which time the w hole tract of country from Cocker-
mouth and Carlisle to the gates of Newcastle was laid
waste with all the fury of revenge and rapacity; though
Wallace endeavoured, as far as possible, to repress the
licentiousness of his soldiers.
In 1298, Wallace assumed the title of “ Governor An. 1298.
of .Scotland, in name of King John, and by consent
of the Scottish nation; ” but in what manner this office
was obtained, is now in .a great measure unknown. In
a parliament which he convoked at Perth, he was con¬
firmed in his authority; and under this title he con¬
ferred the constabulary of Dundee on Alexander sur-
named Skrimgeour and his heirs. Ibis grant is said t©
have been made with the consent and approbation of the 14Q
Scottish nobility, 29th March 1298. From this .period, Jealousy
however, we may date the very great jealousy which!’^'v,ee!'
took place between Wallace and the nobles who pre-^ ^
tended to be of his party. His elevation wounded their barons,
pride ; his great services reproached their inactivity in
the public cause; and thus the councils of Scotland
were perplexed with distrust and envy, when almost
its very existence depended on unanimity.
4 II 2
612
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
141
Scotland
again in¬
vaded by
Edward.
In June 1298, Edward, "who hod all this time been
in Flanders, returned to England and summoned the
Scottish barons, under pain of rebellion, to attend him
in parliament; and, on their disobeying his summons,
he advanced with his army towards Scotland. His
main force, commanded by himself, assembled at Ber¬
wick ; but a body of troops, under the Earl of Pembroke,
having landed in the north of Fife, were defeated with
great loss by Wallace, on the 12th of June. The same
month Edward invaded Scotland by the way of the
eastern borders. No place resisted him except the cas¬
tle of Dirleton. After a resolute defence, it surren¬
dered to Anthony Beck, bishop of Durham.
Meanwhile the Scots were assembling all their
strength in the interior of the country. Few barons of
eminence repaired to the national standard. They
whose names are recorded, were John Comyn of Bade-
noch, the younger’; Sir John Stewart of Bonkill, bro¬
ther to 77ie Steward; Sir John Graham of Abercorn ;
and Macduff, the grand-uncle of the young earl of
Fife.—Robert Bruce again acceded to the Scottish
party ; and with his followers guarded the important
castle of Ayr, which kept the communication open
with Galloway, Argyleshire, and the isles.
The aim of Edward was to penetrate into the west,
and there to terminate the war. He appointed a fleet,
with provisions, to proceed to the frith of Clyde, and
await his arrival in those parts. This precaution wns
absolutely necessary for the subsistence of his nume¬
rous army in a country impoverished and waste.
Waiting for accounts of the arrival of his fleet, he
established his head-quarters at Templeliston, betw-een
Edinburgh and Linlithgow.
A dangerous insurrection arose in his camp. He
had bestowed a donation of wine among his soldiers ;
they became intoxicated ; a national quarrel ensued.—
In this tumult the Welsh slew 18 English ecclesiastics.
The English horsemen rode in among the Welsh, and
revenged this outrage with great slaughter. The Welsh
in disgust separated themselves from the army. It was
reported to Edward, that they had mutinied, and gone
over to the Scots: “ I care not, ” said Edward, dis-
semhling the danger ; “let my enemies go and join my
enemies; I trust that in one day I shall chastise them all.”
Edward was now placed in most critical circum¬
stances. As the fleet with provision had been detained
by contrary winds, he could not venture to advance,
neither could he subsist any longer in his present quar¬
ters. To retreat would have sullied the glory of his
arms, and exposed him to the obloquy and murmurs
of a discontented people. Yet he submitted to this
hard necessity. Abandoning every prospect of ambi¬
tion and revenge, he commanded his army to return
to the eastern borders. At that moment intelligence
arrived that the Scots had advanced to Falkirk.
Edward instantly marched against them. His army
lay that night in the fields. While Edward slept on
the ground, his war-horse struck him and broke two of
his ribs. The alarm arose, that the king was wounded.
They who knew not the cause, repeated the cry, “ The
king is wounded; there is treason in the camp ; the Scotian*
enemy is upon us. ” Edward mounted on horseback,' v—■
and by his presence dispelled the panic. With a for- 142
titude of spirit superior to pain, he led on his troops.
At break of day, the Scottish army was descried, 22d July
forming on a stony field at the side of a small emi- 1298.
nence in the neighbourhood of Falkirk.
Wallace ranged his infantry in four bodies of a cir¬
cular form. The archers, commanded by Sir John
Stewart, were placed in the intervals. The horse,
amounting to no more than a thousand, were at some
distance in the rear. On the front of the Scots lay a
morass. Having drawn up his troops in this order,
Wallace pleasantly said, “ Now I have brought you
to the ring, dance according to your skill. ”
Edward placed his chief confidence in the numerous
and formidable body of horsemen whom he had selected
for the Scottish expedition. These he ranged in three
lines. The first was led by Bigot Earl Marshal, and
the earls of Flereford and Lincoln ; the second by the
bishop of Durham, having under him Sir Ralph Basset
of Drayton ; the third, intended for a reserve, was led
by the king himself. No mention is made of the dis¬
position of the infantry : it is probable that they were
drawn up behind, to support the cavalry, and to annoy
the Scots with their arrows and other missile weapons.
Bigot, at the head of the first line, rushed on to the
charge. He was checked by the morass, which in his
impetuosity he had overlooked. This obliged him te
incline to the solid ground on his left, towards the right
flank of the Scottish army. The bishop of Durham,
who led the second line, inclined to the right, turned
the morass, and advanced towards the left flank of the
Scottish army. He proposed to halt till the reserve
should advance. “ To mass, bishop! ” cried Basset, and
instantly charged. The shock of the English cavalry
on each side was violent, and gallantly withstood by the
Scottish infantry ; but the Scottish cavalry, dismayed
at the number and force of the English men-at-arms,
immediately quitted the field. Stewart, while giving
orders to his archers, was thrown from his horse and
slain. His archers crowded round his body and perish¬
ed with him. Often did the English strive to force the 14~
Scottish circle. “ They could not penetrate into that The Scot
wood of spears, ” as one of their historians speaks. By defeated
repeated charges, the outermost ranks were brought to Wltl1 grea
the ground. The English infantry incessantly gailed&lau°hter
the Scots with showers of stones and arrows. Macduff
and Sir John Graham fell. At length the Scots were
broken by the numbers and weight of the English ca¬
valry ; and the rout became universal.
The number of the Scots slain in this battle must,
have been very great. As is commonly the case, it
is exaggerated by the historians of the victors, and
reduced too low by the historians of the vanquished.
On the side of the English the loss was inconsider¬
able. The only persons of note who fell were Brian
le Jay, master of the English templars, and the prior
of Torphichen in Scotland, a knight of another order
of religious soldiery, (f)
The
(f) This account of the action at Falkirk, extracted from Lord Hailes’s Annals, is drawn, his Lordship in¬
forms us, from the testimony of the English historians. “ They have done justice (he observes) to the courage and
steadiness
SCOT L A N D.
613
'cotland.
3.1299.
144
ijectcon.
tion of
hn Ba-
1.
145
Iward
liged to
ire.
146
'c crown
Scotland
imed by
pe Boni-
eVlU.
1.1301.
The Scots in their retreat burnt the town and castle
of Stirling. Edward repaired the castle, and made it a
place of arms. He then marched to the west. At his
approach, Bruce burnt the castle of Ayr, and retired.
Edward would have pursued him into Carrick ; but
the want of provisions stopped his further progress.
He turned into Annandale, took Bruce’s castle of Loch-
maben, and then departed out of Scotland by the west¬
ern borders.
Here may be remarked the fatal precipitancy of the
Scots. If they had studied to protract the campaign,
instead of hazarding a general action at Falkirk, they
would have foiled the whole power of Edward, and re¬
duced him to the necessity of an inglorious retreat.
In 1299 Edward thought proper to release John Ba-
liol the unfortunate king of Scotland, whom he had
kept close prisoner ever since the year 1296. Before
this time Baliol had used the most disgraceful methods
to recover his liberty. He had solemnly declared, that
“ he would never have any intercourse with the Scots ;
that he had found them a false and treacherous people ;
and that he had reason to suspect them of an intention
to poison him. ” Notwithstanding all his protestations,
Edward still detained him in captivity; but at last re¬
leased him at the mediation of the pope, though after a
singular form. He ordered the governor of Dover to
convey him to the French coast, and there to deliver
him to the papal nuncio, “ with full power to the pope
to dispose of Baliol and his English estate. ” In conse¬
quence of this he was conveyed to Whitsand, delivered
to the nuncio in presence of a notary and witnesses, and
a receipt taken for his person. Notwithstanding this
abject state, however, the Scots continued to own him
for their king, and to assert their national independence.
Though the misfortune at Falkirk had deprived them
of a very considerable extent of territory, they were
still in possession of the whole country beyond the Forth,
as well as the county of Galloway. By general con¬
sent William Lamberton bishop of St Andrew’s, Robert
Bruce earl of Carrick, and John Cummin the younger,
were chosen guardians of Scotland in name of Baliol.
Wallace at this time was reduced to the condition of a
private man ; nor had he any longer the command of
the Scots armies, nor any share in their councils.—The
new guardians undertook to reduce the castle of Stir¬
ling, and Edward prepared to defend it. The Scots
posted themselves at the Torwood, and chose their
ground judiciously, so that Edward could scarcely have
rai^fed the siege without dislodging them ; which, find¬
ing impossible, he returned home in disgust. Next
year he invaded Scotland on the west side, wasted An¬
nandale, and reduced Galloway; but the Scots being
now taught by experience to avoid a general action,
chose their posts with such skill, that Edward could
not penetrate farther; and the same year a truce was
concluded with the Scots, to continue till Whitsunday
1301.
This year appeared a new competitor for the crown
of Scotland. Boniface VIII. in a bull directed to Ed¬
ward, averred, that Scotland belonged anciently, and
did still belong, to the holy see ; and supported his Scotland,
extravagant claim by some strange authorities ; such ——v—*-'
as, that Scotland had been miraculously converted by
the relics of St Andrew : after which he proceeded
to show the futility of Edward’s pretensions, and that
Scotland never had any feudal dependence on England.
He required Edward to set at liberty all the Scottish
ecclesiastics, particularly Wishart bishop of Glasgow,
and to remove his officers from the patrimony of the
church : “ But (added he) should you have any pre¬
tensions to the whole, or any part of Scotland, send
your proctors to me within six months ; I will hear and
determine according to justice ; I take the cause un¬
der my own peculiar cognisance. ” 247
This interposition of the pope had probably been His preten-
procured by Scottish emissaries at the court of Rome ;si01,s an-
but, however ridiculous his pretensions might be, they
afforded matter of very serious consideration to Ed- a,l(j ],;s
ward. After spending a whole winter in deliberations, parliament
Edward and his parliament made separate answers to
the pope. The answer of the parliament was to the
following purpose : All England knows, that ever since
the first establishment of this kingdom, our kings have
been liege-lords of Scotland. At no time has the
kingdom of Scotland belonged to the church. la
temporals, the kings of England are not amenable to
the see of Rome. We have with one voice resolved,
that, as to temporals, the king of England is independ¬
ent of Rome; that he shall not suffer his independence
to be questioned ; and therefore that he shall not send
commissioners to Rome. Such is, and such, we trust
in God, ever will be, our opinion. We do not, we can¬
not, we must not, permit our king to follow measures
subversive of that government which we have sworn to
maintain, and which we will maintain. ” j48
The king entered into a more full refutation of the a short
pope’s arguments ; and having, as he thought, answer- truce con¬
ed them sufficiently, he marched again into Scotland : glK*j 1
but, by the mediation of France, another truce was a
concluded, to last till St Andrew’s day 1302. 14g
After the expiration of the truce, Edward sent an Three bo-
army into Scotland, under the command of John de Se- Bies of the
grave. This general divided his troops into three bo- f'"®''18*1. .
o (Icicfttcd in
dies ; but, keeping them so far distant that they could one jay
not support each other, they were all engaged and de- An. 1302..
feated in one day by the Scots, near Roslin (see Ros-
lin). This, however, was the last successful exploit
of the Scots at this period. The pope deserted them ;
and the king of France concluded a peace with Eng¬
land, in which all mention of the Scots was industriously
avoided; so that they were left alone to bear the whole
weight of Edward’s resentment, who now invaded their j ^
country in person with a mighty army. He met with gcotian(j
no resistance in his progress, except from the castle of invaded by
Brechin, which was commanded by Thomas Maule, a Edward in
brave and experienced officer. Pie held out for 20 days Perbon w‘tl‘
against the whole power or the English army ; but at
last he was mortally wounded, and the place capitula¬
ted. Thence he proceeded northward, according to
some historians, as far as Caithness. He then returned#
towards
steadiness of their enemies ; while our historians represented their own countrymen as occupied in frivolous un-
jneaning contests, and, from treachery or resentment, abandoning the public cause in the day of trial. ”
614
SCOT
Scotland.
151
The Scots
army rout¬
ed.
152
Capitula¬
tion with
Edward.
153
The castle
of Stirling
reduced,
and Scot¬
land sub¬
dued
towards the south, and wintered in Dunfermline. In
that place there was an abbey of the Benedictine order;
a building so spacious, that, according to an English
historian, three sovereign princes with all their retinue
might have been lodged conveniently within its pre¬
cincts. Here the Scottish nobles sometimes held their
assemblies. The English soldiers utterly demolished
this magnificent fabric.
The only fortress that remained in the possession of
the Scots was the castle of Stirling, where Sir William
Oiiphant commanded. To protect this single place of
refuge, Cummin assembled all his forces. He posted his
army on the south bank of the river, in the neighbour¬
hood of Stirling, there to make the last stand for the
national liberty. The Scots fondly imagined, that Ed¬
ward would attempt to force the passage, as the impe¬
tuous Cressingham had attempted in circumstances not
dissimilar. But the prudence of Edward frustrated their
expectation. Having discovered a ford at some dis¬
tance, he crossed the river at the head of his whole
cavalry. The Scots gave way, and soon dispersed.
All resources but their own courage had long failed
them ; that last resource failed them now, and they
hastened to conciliate the favour of the conqueror.
Previous to this, Bruce had surrendered himself to
John de St John, the English warden. Cummin and
his followers now submitted to Edward. They stipu¬
lated for their lives, liberties, and estates: reserving
always to Edward the power of inflicting pecuniary
mulcts on them as he should see fit.
From the general conditions of this capitulation, the
following persons were excepted : Wishart bishop of
G1 asgow, the Steward, Sir John Soulis, David de
Graham, Alexander de Lindesay, Simon Eraser, Tho¬
mas Bois, and Wallace. With respect to them, it was
provided, that the bishop of Glasgow, the Steward, ami
Soulis, should remain in exile for two years, and should
not pass to the north of Trent; that Graham and
Lindesay should be banished from Scotland for six
months; that Eraser and Bois should be banished for
three years from all the dominions of Edward, and
should not be permitted, during that space, to repair
to ti e territories of France. “ As for William Wal¬
lace, it is agreed that he shall render himseli up at the
will and mercy of our sovereign lord the king, if it
shall seem good to him. ” These were all the condi¬
tions that the Scottish nation stipulated for the man
who had vanquished the English at Stirling, who had
expelled them from Scotland, and who had once set
Ids country free !
Amid this wreck of the national liberties, Wallace
scorned submission. He lived a free man ; a free man
he resolved to die. Fraser, who had too often complied
with the times, now caught the same heroic sentiments.
But their endeavours to rouse their countrymen were in
vain. I’he season of resistance was past. Wallace per¬
ceived that there remained no more hope ; and sought
out a place of concealment, where, eluding the ven¬
geance of Edward, he might silently lament over his
fallen country.
Edward assembled at St Andrew’s what is called a
'parliament. Wallace, Fraser, and the garrison of Stir¬
ling, were summoned to appear: They appeared not,
and sentence of outlawry was pronounced against them.
Edward now prepared to besiege the castle of Stir-
L A N D.
ling; and, foreseeing that the reduction of this place Scotian
would be attended with considerable difficulty, he strip- —y—
ped the abbey of St Andrew s of the lead which
covered it in order to employ the metal in bullets for
hi> battering machines. Oiiphant was solemnly sum¬
moned to surrender; but in vain. Edward drew out
all his artillery, and battered the wails with stones of
200 pounds weight. The besieged, however, defend¬
ed themselves with obstinacy, and killed a great num¬
ber of the English ; but at last they were obliged to
surrender : and Edward, looking upon the conquest
of Scotland as now complete, set out for York, and
from thence to Lincoln.
Though Edward had thus met with all the success
he could desire in his expeditions against the Scots, he
could not but perceive that his dominion over them
must be very precarious, as long as he held them in
the subjection of a conquered people. He resolved Edward
therefore once more to renew his attempts for an union tempts sj
of the two kingdoms. He began with taking into fa-^'lou
vour the bishop of Glasgow, Robert Bruce, and John two kill
Mowbray, who, next to Bruce and the Cummins, wasdomsinl
amongst the greatest of the Scottish nobility. To them vain,
he recommended thesettlingthe affairs of their country,
but in such a manner as to leave it in his power to ef¬
fect the proposed union with England. This scheme,
however, was by no means agreeable to Bruce ; who
had now no other competitor for the crown but Cum¬
min, who was in a great measure incapable of oppos¬
ing his designs ; noi indeed could it ever be made a-
grt cable to the bulk of the nation ; and therefore came
to nothing. Scotland, however, was subdued. Its in¬
habitants had renounced every idea of asserting their
liberty, and only strove to make their court to the con- j.J
queror. Wallace alone remained an exception. Ed Wallace
ward, who had received into favour those who had re betrayed
peatedly proved traitors, showed a mean revenge against
the only man who discovered a steady and honourable A’t
spirit, and whose friendship seemed worth the courting. iso5.
Ralph de Haliburton, a prisoner, offered his assistance
for discovering Wallace ; and for this purpose he was
granted a temporary liberty: but what he did in this
very dishonourable employment is unknown. Certain
it is that Wallace was discovered, and betrayed into ihe
hands of the English, by Sir John Menteith, the sheriff
of Dunbarton. This celebrated and heroic patriot was
arraigned at Westminster as a traitor to Edward, and as
having burnt villages, stormed castles, and slaughtered
many subjects of England. Wallace denied his having
been a traitor, and indeed with truth ; for he had al¬
ways been the avowed enemy of Edward, and had not
at any time owned allegiance to him. But whatever
his defences might have been, they were of no avail
with a judge who bad resolved on his destruction.
Wallace was condemned to die a traitor’s death, and
the sentence was executed with the utmost rigour! In
his last moments he asserted that independency which
a degenerate nation had renounced. His head was
placed on a pinnacle at London, and his mangled limbs
were distributed over the kingdom- j-6
After the death of Wallace, Edward thought of no-Edward.
thing but settling the affairs of Scotland as a conquered precauti9
country; but he took care to preserve the ancient forms ^or set,>
as tar as was consistent with the dependent state ot tne
nation- It hasbeen said, indeed, that Edward abrogated
all
SCOTLAND;
rotlnnd. all the Scottish laws and customs, anti endeavoured to
-V"—' substitute the English in their stead; but this is denied
by others. Lord Hailes gives us at length the record
with respect to these laws, in the following words.
“ And, with respect to the laws and usages of the go¬
vernment of Scotland, it is ordained, that the custom of
the Scots and the Brets shall for the future be prohi¬
bited, and be no longer practised. It is also ordained,
that, the king’s lieutenant shall forthwith assemble the
good people of Scotland; and that, at such assembly,
shall be read over the statutes made by David king of
Scots, and also the additions and amendments which
have been made by other kings; and that the lieute¬
nant, with the assistance which he shall then have, as
well of Englishmen as of Scots, shall amend such of
these statutes and usages as are plainly against the
laws of God and reason, as they best may in so short
a space, and in so far as they can without consulting
the king; and as to matters which they cannot under¬
take to correct of themselves, that they be put in writ¬
ing, and laid before the king by the lieutenant, and any
number of commissioners, with parliamentary powers,
whom the Scots shall think fit to choose. That they
shall meet with commissioners appointed by the king,
and finally determine as to the premises. ”
157 This is the record by which it is generally supposed
"ot that the law of Scotland was abrogated. But Lord
cgat? Hailes is of opinion, that the usage of the Scots and Brels
s< here mentioned was something difierent from the com¬
mon law of the land. “ We know (says he) from our
statute-book, that the people of Galloway had certain
usages peculiar to themselves; Stat. Alex. II. c.2. One
was, that causes were tried among them without juries
^Quon. Attach, c. 72. 73. placed in some ancient MSS.
among LL. David I. c. 15.3 and this may probably
have been the usage which Edward abolished. The
people of Galloway were sometimes distinguished by
the name of Scots : thus the wild Scots of Galloway, is
an expression to be found in ancient instruments, and
is proverbial even in our own days. The usage of the
Brets, I take to be what relates to the judge called
brithihh, or brehon; in Ireland, brehan; and conse¬
quently, that the thing here abolished was the commu¬
tation of punishments by exacting a pecuniary mulct. ”
158 An indemnity was now granted to the Scots on cer-
nted to *a'n cond*t,ons* Various fines were imposed, from one
Scots, to five years rent of the estates of the delinquents. One
year’s rent was to be paid by the clergy, excluding the
bishop of Glasgow ; two by those who were more early
in their submissions than Cummin; three by Cummin
and his associates ; and five by the bishop of Glasgow ;
four years rent was to be paid by William de Baliol
and John Wishart; and five b}' Ingelram de Umfraville,
because they had stood out longer. Three years rent
was also paid by the vassals of Baliol, Wishart, and
Umfraville. These fines were to be paid in moieties.
The person taxed was to pay half his income annually
and thus Umfraville, taxed in five years rent, was al¬
lowed ten years to discharge the fine. This was an ex¬
press reservation to Edward of all the royal demesnes
which Baliol might have alienated. There was also an
^ exception for those who were already in custody, and
he .scot, those who had not yet submitted,
govern- Thus, after a long and obstinate contest, was Scot-
^ land wholly reduced under the dominion of Edwards
615
—Within four months was overthrown that system, Scotland,
which the incessant labour of fifteen nears had establish- —v
ed by craft, dissimulation, and violence, with a waste
of treasure, and the effusion of much blood. The causes
of this event are related as follows. Dervergmll of Gal¬
loway had a son, John Baliol, and a daughter named
Margery. John Cummin was the son of Margery, and,
setting Baliol aside, was heir to the pretensions of Der-
verguiil. He had for many years maintained the con¬
test against Edward ; but at last laid down his arms,
and swore fealty to the conqueror ; and as Baliol had
repeatedly renounced all pretensions to the crown of
Scotland, Cummin might, now be considered as the right¬
ful heir. His rival in power and pretensions was Bruce
earl of Garrick. This young nobleman’s grandfather,
the competitor, had patiently acquiesced in the award of
Edward. His father, yielding to the times, had served
under the English banners. But young Bruce had
more ambition, and a more restless spirit. In his ear¬
lier years he acted on no regular plan. By turns the
partisan of Edward and the vicegerent of Baliol, he
seems to have forgotten or stifled his pretensions to the
crown. But his character developed itself by degrees,
and in maturer age became firm and consistent. Ac¬
cording to the traditionary report, Bruce made the fol¬
lowing proposal to Cummin: “ Support my title to the
crown, and I will give you my estate ; or give me your
estate, and I will support your’s. ” The conditions
were properly drawn out and signed by both parties; hut
Cummin, either through fear or treachery, revealed the
whole to Edward. On this the king showed Bruce the
letters of his accuser, and severely questioned him; but
the latter found means to pacify him by mild and ju- ]i70
dicious answers. Notwithstanding this, however, Ed- Edward’s
ward still suspected him, though he dissembled his senti-designs
ments, until he should get the brothers of Bruce into“=a,.1,1^(,^e
his power, and then destroy all the family at once. The
king having drunk freely one evening, informed some of
his lords that he had resolved to put Bruce to death
next day. The earl of Gloucester^ hearing this resolu¬
tion, sent a messenger to Bruce, with twelve pence and
a pair of spurs, as if he intended to restorewhat he-
had borrowed. Bruce understood the meaning of his Robert
message, and prepared for flight. The ground was co- ^, ucc
veredwith snow, which would have discovered his fl ight ;nr’ake^
but it is said that Bruce ordered his farrier to invert * ’
the shoes of his horses, and immediately set out for'
Scotland in company with his secretary and groom. In
his way he observed a foot-passenger, whose behaviour
seemed to be suspicious, and whom he soon discovered
to be the bearer of letters from Cummin to the English
monarch, urging the death or immediate imprisonment
of Bruce. The latter, filled with resentment, immedi¬
ately beheaded the messenger, and set forward to his
castle at Lochmaben, where lie arrived the seventh day
after his departure from London. Soon after this he
repaired to Dumfries, where Cummin happened at that
time to reside. Bruce requested an interview with him
in the convent of the Minorites, where he reproached
him with his treachery. Cummin gave him the lie, and
Bruce instantly stabbed him ; after which he hastened
out of the convent, and called “ To horse ! ” His at-
tendants, Lindesay and Kirkpatrick, perceiving himand kills
pale, and in extreme agitation, inquired how it was with Jqlm C\tm-
him? “ HI ( replied Bruce); I doubt I have slain Cum-1™11,
nun. ”
616
SCOTLAND.
concerning
this event
Scotland, min.” “ You iloubt 1 ^ cried Kirkpatrick ; on sajdng
v—~v'~—^ which, he rushed into the place where Cummin lay,
and instantly despatched him. Sir Robert Cummin,
a relation, attempted to defend his kinsman, and shar¬
ed his fate. Bruce had now gone so far, that it was
in vain to think of retracting; and therefore set him¬
self in decided opposition to Edward. The justicia¬
ries were then holding their court at Dumfries ; and
hearing what had happened, imagined their own lives
to be in danger, and barricaded the doors. Bruce
ordered the house to be set on fire : on which they
surrendered ; and Bruce granted them leave to depart
163 out of Scotland without molestation.
Opinion of The above account of this catastrophe is taken from
LordHailes the Scots historians ; those of England differ in many
particulars. Lord Hailes supposes both to be wrong,
and that the true circumstances of the quarrel are un¬
known. “ My opinion (says he) is, that Bruce, when
he met Cummin at Dumfries, had no intention of im¬
bruing his hands in his blood, nor any immediate pur¬
pose of asserting his right to the crown of Scotland ;
that the slaughter of Cummin was occasioned by a
hasty quarrel between two proud-spirited rivals ; and
that Bruce, from necessity and despair, did then as¬
sert his pretensions to the crown. ”
The death of Cummin affected the Scots variously,
according to their different views and interests. The
relations of the deceased viewed it as a cruel assassina¬
tion, and joined with Edward in schemes of revenge.
Some who wished well to the peace of their coun¬
try, thought that it was better to submit quietly to the
government of the English, than to attempt a revolu¬
tion, which could not be effected without much danger
and bloodshed; but, on the other hand, the friends of
Bruce now ^aw the necessity of proceeding to the co¬
ronation of the new king without loss of time. The
ceremony was therefore performed at Scone on the
25th of March ]306, in presence of two earls, the
bishops of St Andrew’s and Glasgow, the abbot of
Scone, John de Athol, and John de Menteith. It
had been customary, since the days of Macbeth, for
one of the family of Fife to put the crown on the
king’s head ; and Bruce found the prepossession of the
Scots in favour of this circumstance so strong, that he
was obliged to seek for an expedient to satisfy them.
Macduff the earl of Fife was at that time in England,
where he had married a near relation of Edward. His
sister was wife to the earl of Buchan, one of the heads
of the family of Comyn, and consequently the deter¬
mined enemy of Robert. By an uncommon effort of
female patriotism, she postponed all private quarrels
to the good of her country, and in her husband’s ab¬
sence repaired, with all his warlike accoutrements, to
Bruce, to whom she delivered them up, and placed the
crown upon his head. This crown is said to have
been made by one Conyers an Englishman, who nar¬
rowly escaped being punished for it by Edward.
The king of England received intelligence of all these
proceedings with astonishment; and without delay sent
a body of troops under the command of Aymer de Va¬
lence earl of Pembroke to suppress the rebellion. Bruce
omitted nothing for his defence. He had always been
considered by his countrymen as a promising accomplish¬
ed young nobleman, but firmly attached-to Edward’s
person and government j for which reason he had not
3
An. 1306.
164
Robert
crowned
king of
Scotland
by a wo¬
man.
been trusted by those independent patriots who joined Scotland
Wallace. But their confidence was now gained by his—v—
rendering himself so obnoxious to Edward, that no pos¬
sibility of a reconciliation was left; and he soon saw l65
himself at the head of a small army. With these, who He is de.
consisted of raw and unexperienced soldiers, Bruce feated at
formed a camp at Methven near Perth, which last^et!im.-
was the head-quarters of the enemy ; but knowing the
disadvantage under which he laboured from the inex¬
perience of his men, he resolved to act on the de¬
fensive. The English general at last sent Bruce a
challenge to fight him, which was accepted; but the
day before the battle was to have been fought by a-
greement, the Scots were attacked by surprise, and
totally defeated. Bruce behaved with the greatest va¬
lour, and had three horses killed under him. Being
known by the slaughter which he made, John Mow¬
bray, a man of great courage and resolution, rushed
on him, and catching hold of his horse’s bridal, cried
out, “ I have hold of the new-made king! ” But he
was delivered by Christopher Seaton. igg
This disaster almost gave the finishing stroke to the Is distres
affairs of Bruce. He now found himself deserted by cd^afiertlj
a great part of his army. The English had taken pri- iea
soners great numbers of women whose husbands follow¬
ed Bruce; and all those were now ordered, on pain of
death, to accompany their husbands. Thus was Bruce
burdened with a number of useless mouths, and found
it hard to subsist. The consequence was, that most of
his men departed with their families, so that in a few
days his army dwindled down to 500. With these he
retreated to Aberdeen, where he was met by his brother
Sir Neil, his wife, and a number of other ladies, all of
whom offered to follow his fortune through every diffi¬
culty. But, however heroic this behaviour might he,
it put Bruce to some inconvenience, as he could scarcely
procure subsistence; and therefore he persuaded the
ladies to retire to his castle of Kildrommey, under the
protection of Sir Neil Bruce and the earl of Athol.
In the mean time the desertion among Bruce’s troops
continued, so that now he had with him no more than
200 men ; and as winter was approaching, he resolved
to go into Argylesbire, where Sir Neil Campbell’s estate
lay, who had gone before to prepare for his reception. Ig7
In his way thither he encountered incredible difficulties; Reaciies
and some of his followers being cut off at a place called Argyle-
Dalry, the rest were so disheartened, that they all for-shire wit!
sook him, excepting Sir Gilbert Hay, Sir James Dou-jP^jj^1"
glas, and a few domestics. Bruce, however, kept up
the spirits of his little party by recounting to them the
adventures of princes and patriots in circumstances simi¬
lar to his owm. Having crossed Lochlomond in a small
crazy boat, he was discovered by his trusty friend the
earl of Lenox, who had been proscribed in England, and 16S
now lived in retirement on his own estate. The meeting Meets wij
between these friends was very affecting, and drew tears the earl c
from the eyes of all present. Lenox, who had heard Lenox;
nothing of Bruce’s misfortunes, furnished him and his
half-famished attendants with plenty of provisions: but
beingsoon made sensible that it was impossible for them
to live in a place where they were well known, and sur¬
rounded by enemies, Bruce resolved to seek out some
more safe habitation. For this purpose Sir Neil Camp¬
bell had already provided shipping ; but our adventu¬
rers had scarcely set sail, when they were pursued by a
large
f
S C G T L A N D.
6H
ot!and. large squadron of the enemy’s fleet. The bark which
 carried the earl of Lenox escaped with the utmost dif-
J69 Acuity to Cant i re, where Bruce was already landed: and,
am he at tlieir meeting, botli agreed that they should never
Is to Can-afterwards be separated while they remained alive.
In the mean time Edward having compromised some
differences with his English subjects, resumed his old
project of entirely subduing Scotland; and his inten¬
tion now appears to have been to divide the lands of
170 such as he suspected of disaffection among his English
ward’s followers. He ordered a proclamation to be made, that
pa?*' all who had any title to the honour of knighthood, ei-
v jnva- ther by heritage or estate, should repair to Westminster
11 of Scot-to receive all military ornaments, from his royal ward-
d- robe. As the prince of Wales came under this deno¬
mination, he was the first who underwent the cere¬
mony ; which gave him a right to confer the like ho¬
nour on the sons of above 300 of the chief nobility
and gentry of England. The prince then repaired, at
the head of his gallant train, to Edward ; who receiv¬
ed them, surrounded by his nobility, in the most solemn
manner. The king then made a speech on the treachery
of the Scots, whose entire destruction he denounced.
He declared his resolution of once more heading his
army in person ; and he desired, in case of his death,
that his body might be carried to Scotland, and not
buried till signal vengeance was taken on the perfidious
nation. Having then ordered all present to join him
within fifteen days, with their attendants and military
equipages, he prepared for his journey into Scotland.
171 He entered the country soon after Bruce’s defeat at
iters the Metliven. The army was divided into twro bodies; one
may, commanded by the king himself, the other by the prince
res with W^es, and, under him, by the earls of Lancaster
ut cruel-and Hereford, with orders to proceed northwards, and
penetrate into the counties where the interest of Bruce
was strongest. As he passed along, Edward caused
all that fell into his hands, whom he suspected of fa¬
vouring Bruce’s party, to he immediately executed.
The bishop of Glasgow was the only exception to this
barbarity ; he was taken, hut had his life spared on ac-
172
ibert’s
uen and
ughter
•en pri-
icrs.
Feeder a,
In. ii.
1013.
173
Mrom-
y castle
cn, and
’garrison
-‘sacred.
count of his function.
In the mean time, as the prince of Wales continued
his march northwards, Bruce’s queen began to he
alarmed for her own safety. She vras advised to take
sanctuary at the shrine of StDuthac in Itoss-shife;
but there she tvas made -prisoner by William Earl of
Iloss, who was of the English party. By Edward’s
order she was sent to London ; her daughter, who was
taken at the same time being shut up in a religious
house. The directions for the entertainment of the
queen are still preserved. * She was to be conveyed
to the manor of Brustewick ; to have a waiting-woman
and a maid-servant, advanced in life, sedate, and of
good conversation4 a butler, two men-servants, and a
foot hoy for her chamber, sober, not. riotous, to make
her bed : three greyhounds when she inclines to hunt;
venison, fish, and the fairest house in the manor. In
1308, she was removed to another prison; in 1312,
she was removed to Windsor castle, 20 shillings per
week being allowed for her maintenance. In 1314?, she
was committed to Rochester castle, and was not set
at liberty till the close of that year.
The only fortress which Bruce possessed in Scotland
was the cast le of Kildrommev; and it was soon besieged
Yol. XVHL Part II.
by the earls of Lancaster and Hereford. One Osburn Scotland,
treacherously burned the magazine ; by which means ’
the garrison, destitute of provisions, was obliged to
surrender at discretion. The common soldiers were
hanged; Sir Neil Bruce and the earl of Athol were
sent prisoners to Edward, who caused them to be
hanged on a gallows 50 feet high, and then beheaded
and burnt. The countess of Buchan, who had crown¬
ed King Robert was taken prisoner; as was Lady Mary
Bruce, the king’s sister. 174
About this time also many more of Bruce’s party Adventures
were put to death; among whom were Thomas and ° ePt’
Alexander Bruce, two of the king's brothers, and
John Wallace, brother to the celebrated Sir William.
Bruce himself, in the mean time, was in such a des¬
perate situation, that it was thought he never could give
more disturbance ; and it was even reported that he
was dead. All his misfortunes, however, could not in¬
timidate him, nor prevent his meditating a most severe
revenge upon the destroyers of his family. He first
removed to the castle of Dumbarton, where he was ho¬
spitably received and entertained by Angus lord of
Kintyre ; hut, suspecting that he was not safe there,
he sailed in three days to Rachrin, a small island on the
Irish coast, where he secured himself effectually from
the pursuit of his enemies. It was during his stay in
this island, that the report of his death was generally
propagated. Notwithstanding this, his party increased
considerably ; and, even when he landed on this island
he was attended by 300 men. Having lived for some
time in this retreat, being apprehensive that the report
of his death might he generally credited among his
friends in Scotland, it was resolved to attempt the sur¬
prise of a fort held by the English under Sir John Has- 175
tings, on the isle of Arran. This was performed with Be takes a
success by his two friends Douglas and Sir Robert Boyd,
who put the greatest part of the garrison to the sword, * 1
The king, hearing of tin ir success, passed over into Ar¬
ran ; hut not knowing where his people resided, is said
to have found them out by blowing a horn, lie then
sent a trusty servant, oneCuthbert,intohis own country
of Garrick ; with orders, if lie found it well affected
to his cause, to light a fire on a certain point near his
castle of Tunberry, whence it might be discerned in Ar¬
ran. Bruce and his party perceived tire signal, as they
thought, and immediately put to sea. Their voyage
was short; and as Bruce had now 400 men along with
him, he resolved immediately to act on the offensive. ^
His first exploit was to surprise his own castle of Tun- an(i the
berry, which had been given, along with Bruce’s estate, castle of
to Lord Hemy Percy. Him he drove out, along with the } u\1^ei'.r7
English garrison ; but. in the mean time, he met with his111 ^ariI° '
servant Cuthbert, who gave him unpleasing intelligence.
This man had met with very little encouragement on
his landing in Scotland ; in consequence of which he
had not lighted the fire agreed upon as a signal of his
success, that which Bruce had observed having been
kindled by accident. He also told him, that the Eng¬
lish were in full possession of the country, and advised
his master to be on his guard. Soon after this the
king was joined by a lady of fortune, who brought along
with her 40 warriors. By her he was first particularly
informed of the miserable fate of his family and rela¬
tions; which, instead of disheartening, animated him
the more with a desire of revenge. He did not irnmedt-
t 4 1 ateiy
618
SCOTLAND.
Scotiam], ately attempt any thing himself, but allowed Douglas
to attempt the recovery of his estate of Douglasdale,
as Bruce himself had recovered his in Carrick. In this
recovers bis expedition Douglas was joined by one Thomas Dick-
own estate, son, a man of considerable fortune, who gave him in¬
telligence concerning the state of the country. By his
advice he kept himself private till Palm Sunday; when
he and his followers with covered armour repaired to
St Bride’s church, where the English were performing
divine service. The latter were surprised, but made a
brave defence; though, being overpowered by num¬
bers, they were at last obliged to yield. Douglas, with¬
out further, resistance, took possession of his own castle,
which he found well furnished with arms, provisions,
and money. He destroyed all that he could not carry
with him, and also the castle itself, where he knew that
he must have been besieged if he had kept it.
In 1307, the earl of Pembroke advanced into the
west of Scotland to encounter Bruce. The latter did
178 not decline the combat; and Pembroke was defeated.
rj0!;12"8" ^ree days after this, Bruce defeated with great slaugh-
flefcatedby ter another English general named Ralph de Monther-
Itobert. mer, and obliged him to fly to the castle of Ayr. The
An. 1507. king laid siege to the castle for some time, but retired
at the approach of succours from England. This year
the English performed nothing, except burning the
monastery at Paisley. Edward, however, resolved
still to execute his utmost vengeance on the Scots,
though he had long been retarded in his operations by
a tedious and dangerous indisposition. But now, sup¬
posing that his malady was decreased so far that he
could safely proceed on his march, he offered up the
horse-litter, in which he had hitherto been carried, in
the cathedral church of Carlisle; and, mounting on
horseback, proceeded on the way towards Solway. He
was so weak, however, that he could advance no far-
179 ther than six miles in four days ; after which he expir-
Tleatb of ed in sight of that country, which he had so often de-
Edward I. TOfeci t0 destruction. With his dying breath he gave
orders that his body should accompany his army into
Scotland, and remain unburied until the country was
totally subdued; but his son, disregarding this order,
caused it to be deposited in Westminster abbey.
The death of such an inveterate enemy to the Scot¬
tish name, coujd not fail of raising the spirits of Bruce
and his party; and the inactive and timid behaviour of
his son Edward II. contributed not a little to give them
fresh courage. After having granted the guardian¬
ship of Scotland to his favourite, Piers de Gaveston earl
of Pembroke, whom his father had lately banished, he
advanced to Cumnock, on the frontiers of Ayrshire,
and then retreated into England; conferring the office
of guardian of Scotland upon John de Bretagae carl
of Richmond, a fortnight after he had bestowed it on
iso Gaveston. He Avas no sooner gone than Bruce inva-
ftobert dt?- jec| (pa]loway. The inhabitants refusing to follow his
Galloway standard, he laid waste the country; but was defeated,
and obliged to retire northwards by the guardian. In
the north he overran the epuntry without opposition ;
and soon began to move southwards again in order to re¬
pair his late disgrace. He was encountered by Cummin
earl of Buchan with an undisciplined body of English,
whom he entirely defeated and dispersed. But about
this time he was seized with a grievous distemper, which
weakened him so much, that no hopes were left of his
recovery. In this enfeebled situation, he was attacked Scotiam!
by the earl of Buchan and John Mowbray an English “v—
commander, who had assembled a body of troops in^j^1
order to efface their late dishonour. The armies met tiie £nn?j
at Inverury in Aberdeenshire. Bruce was too weak in his fur
to support himself, and therefore was held upon horse- an(lreeo-
back by two attendants : but he had the pleasure 0f jer'5ofr0ni
seeing his enemies totally defeated, and pursued with disease,
great slaughter for many miles ; and it is reported, An. 150!
that the agitation of his spirits on that day proved'the
means of curing him of his disease. This battle was
fought on the 22d of May 1308.
The king of Scotland now took revenge on his ene¬
mies, after the manner of that barbarous age, by laying
waste the country of Buchan with fire and sword. His
successes had so raised his character, that many of the
Scots who had hitherto adhered to the English cause,
now came over to that of Robert. Edward, the king’s
brother, invaded Galloway, and defeated the inhabitants 182
of that country. John de St John, an English com-®“^^
mander, with 1.500 horsemen, attempted to surprise j3ruce
him ; but Edward Bruce having received timely infor¬
mation of his designs, ordered the infantry to entrench
themselves strongly, while he himself, with not more
than 50 horsemen, well armed, under cover of a thick
mist, attacked his enemies, and put them to flight. Af¬
ter this he reduced all the fortresses in the country, and
totally expelled the English. About this time also,
Douglas, while roving about the hilly parts of Tweed-
dale, surprised and made prisoners Thomas Randolph
the king’s nephew, and Alexander Stewart of Bonkill,
who had hitherto continued inimical to the interests
of Robert. Randolph was conducted to the king, but
talked to him in a haughty strain : on which his uncle
sent him into close confinemeat. 18%
The next exploit of Robert was against the lord of^Lornd
Lorn, a division of Argyleshire. It was this nobleman f(;at(;(p at
who had reduced the king to such straits after his defeat his castle
at Methven ; and Bruce now resolved to take ample taken,
revenge. Having entered the country, the king arrived
at a narrow pass, where the troops of Lorn lay in am¬
bush. This pass had a high mountain on the one side,
and a precipice washed by the sea on the other ; but
Robert having ordered Douglas to make a circuit, and
gain the summit of the mountain with part of the army,
he entered himself with the rest. He was immediately
attacked ; but Douglas with his men rushed down the
hill, and decided the victory in favour of the king ; who
soon after took the castle of Dunstaffnage, the chief
residence of this nobleman.
While Robert and his associates were thus gaining
the admiration of their countrymen by the exploits
which they daily performed, the English were so un- ^
settled and fluctuating in their councils, that their par- Unslicca
ty knew not how to act. Edward still imagined that fuinegocij
there was a possibility of reconciling the Scots to histionsfor
government; and for this purpose he employed Wil- Peacc>
liam de Lambyrton, archbishop of St Andrew’s, who
after having been taken prisoner, and carried from one
place of confinement to another, had at last made such
submissions, as procured first his liberty, and then the
confidence of Edward. This ecclesiastic having taken a
most solemn oath of fidelity to Edward, now resolved to
ingratiate himself, by publishing against Robert and his
adherents a sentenceof excommunication,whichhad been
resolved
SCOT L A N D.
jtkiiJ. resolved on long before. This, however, produced no
' effect; and the event was, that in 1309, through the
1309. mediation of the king of France, Edward consented to a
truce with the Scots. This pacific disposition, however,
lasted not long. The truce was scarcely concluded,
when Edward charged the Scots with violating it, and
summoned his barons to meet him in arms at New¬
castle : yet, probably being doubtful of the event of
the war, he empowered Robert de Umfraville and
three others, to conclude a new truce ; declaring, how¬
ever, that he did this at the request of Philip king of
France, as his dearest father and friend, but who was
not to be considered as the ally of Scotland.
The new negociations were soon interrupted. They
'were again renewed ; and in the beginning of the year
1310 the truce was concluded, but entirely disregarded
,g. by the Scots. The progross of Bruce now became very
vard alarming to the English. The town of Perth, a place
i ides at that time of great importance, was threatened; and
lan(i to relieve it, Edward ordered a fleet to sail up the river
^ Tay : he also commanded the earl of Ulster to assemble
, i3io. a body of troops at Dublin, and thence to invade Scot¬
land : his own barons were ordered to meet him in
arms at Berwick. About the end of September, he
entered Scotland ; passed from Roxburgh, through
the forest of Selkirk, to Biggar ; thence he penetrat¬
ed into Renfrew ; and turning back by the way of
Linlithgow, he retreated to Berwick, where he con¬
tinued inactive for eight months.
During this invasion, Robert had carefully avoided
a battle with the English ; well knowing, that an in¬
vasion undertaken in autumn would ruin the heavy¬
armed cavalry, on which the English placed their
chief dependence. His cause was also favoured by a
scarcity which prevailed at this time in Scotland ; for
as magazines and other resources of modern war were
then unknown, the English army were greatly retard¬
ed in their operations, and found it impossible to sub-
186 sist in the country.
lithgow The spirit of enterprise had now communicated itself
lesm-- t0 an ranks of people in Scotland. In 1311, the castle
Scots Linlithgow was surprised by a poor peasant, named
1511. William Binnock. The English garrison were secure,
and kept but a slight guard; of which Binnock being
informed, concealed eight resolute men in a load of
hay, which he had been employed to drive into the
castle. With these, as soon as the gate was opened,
he fell upon the feeble guard, and became master of
the place ; which was dismantled by Robert, as well
as all the other castles taken in the course of the war.
Edward now resolved to invade Scotland again ; and
for this purpose ordered his army to assemble at Rox-
187 burgh. But Robert, not contented with defending
jertin- jjjg own country, resolved in his turn to invade Eng-
iVncf" lan^' accordingly entered that country, and cruel-
s Perthly ravaged the bishopric of Durham. He returned
tis re- loaded with spoil, and laid siege to Perth. After re-
'• ^ maining six weeks before that place, he raised the siege,
I312‘ but returned in a few days ; and having provided scal¬
ing ladders, approached the works with a chosen body
of infantry. In a dark night he made the attack ; and
having waded through the ditch, though the water stood
to his throat, he was the second man who reached the
top of the walls. The town was then soon taken ; af¬
ter which it was plundered and burnt, and the fortifica-
619
tions levelled with the ground. This happened on the Scotland.
8th January 1312. ' v-—*
Edward was now become averse to the war, and re¬
newed his negociatioss for a truce ; but they still ended iss
in nothing. Robert again invaded England ; burnt Invades
great part of the city of Durham; and even threatened
to besiege Berwick, where the king of England had, for witll great
the present, fixed his residence. He next reduced the success,
castles of Butel, Dumfries, and Dalswinton, with many
other fortresses. The castle of Roxburgh, a place of
the utmost importance, next fell into his hands. The
walls were scaled while the garrison was revelling on
the eve of Lent. They retreated into the inner tower ;
but their governor, a Frenchman, having received a
mortal wound, they capitulated.
Randolph, the king’s nephew, was now received into
favour, and began to distinguish himself in the cause of
his country. He blockaded the castle of Edinburgh so The castle
closely, that all communication with the neighbouring
country was cut olf. The place was commanded by e^ljy
one Leland, a knight of Gascony ; but the garrison dolph.
suspecting his fidelity, confined him in a dungeon, and
chose another commander in his stead. One William
Frank presented himself to Randolph, and informed
him how the walls might be scaled. Randolph him¬
self, with 30 men, undertook to scale the castle walls
at midnight. Frank was their guide, and first ascend¬
ed the walls ; but before the whole party could reach
the summit, an alarm was given, the garrison ran to
arms, and a desperate combat ensued. The English
fought valiantly till their commander was killed ; after
which they threw down their arms. Leland, the for¬
mer governor, was released from his confinement, and
entered into the Scottish service.
In 1313, King Robert found the number of his friends An. 1313.
increasing with his successes. He was now joined by
the earl of Athol, who had lately obtained a grant of
lands from Edward. This year, through the media¬
tion of France, the conferences for a truce were re- 100
newed. These, however, did not retard the military Robert in¬
operations of the Scots. Cumberland was invaded and vades Eng-
laid waste: themiserable inhabitants besought Edward’s j^’C(fsn^ie
protection; who commended their fidelity, and desired
them to defend themselves. In the mean time, Robert,
leaving Cumberland, passed over into the isle of Man,
which he totally reduced. Edward found great diffi¬
culties in raising the supplies necessary for carrying on
the war ; but at last overcame all these, and, in the be¬
ginning of the year 1314, was prepared to invade Scot- An. IjH.
land with a mighty army. In March he ordered his
ships to be assembled for the invasion; invited to his
assistance Eth O’Connor, chief of the Irish of Con¬
naught, and 26 other Irish chiefs ; summoned them and
his subjects in Ireland to attend his standard, and gave
the command of these auxiliaries to the earl of Ulster.
His barons were summoned to meet him at Berwick
on the 11th of June; and 22,000 foot soldiers, from
the different counties of England and Wales, were
by proclamation required to assemble at Walk. 191
In the mean time, the successes of the Scots conti- Edward
nued. Edward Bruce had reduced the castles of Ru- Brufe ul1-
therglen and Dundee, and laid siege to the castle imprudent
Stirling. The governor of the place agreed to sur-treaty with
render^ if he should not be relieved before the 24th of the gover-
June 1314; and to this Fdward agreed, without con- ],!or of Stir'
4 12 suiting Ulg’
mo
S C O T L A N D.
Scotland.
192
which
brings on
the decisive
engage¬
ment of
Bannock¬
burn.
193
disposition
of the
Scots.
suiting his brother. The king was highly displeased
with this rush treaty, which interrupted his own opera¬
tions, allowed the English time to assemble their utmost
force, and at last obliged him either to raise the siege or
to place all on the event of a single battle. However,
he resolved to abide by the agreement, and to meet the
English by the appointed day. Having appointed a
general rendezvous of his forces between Falkirk and
Stirling, he found their number to amount to rather
more than 30:000, besides upwards of 15,000 of an un¬
disciplined rabble that followed the camp. He deter¬
mined to await the English in a field which had the
brook or bum of Bannock on the right, and Stirling
on the left. His chief dread was the strength and num¬
ber of the English cavalry, and these he took every
method to oppose. The banks of the brook were steep
in many places, and the ground between it and Stir¬
ling was partly covered with wood. The king com¬
manded many pits, of about a foot in breadth and two
or three feet deep, to be dug in all places where ca¬
valry could have access. From the description given
of them by the historians of those times, there seem
to have been many rows of them, with narrow inter¬
vals. They were carefully covered with brushwood
and sod, so that tlrey might easily be overlooked by a
rash and impetuous enemy. It is said by some au¬
thors, that he also, made use of caltrops, to annoy the
horses in the most effectual manner.
On the 23d of June, the Scots received intelligence
of the approach of Edward, and prepared to decide
the fate of their countiy. The front of their army ex¬
tended from the brook called Bannockburn to the neigh¬
bourhood of St Ninians, nearly upon the line of the pre¬
sent turnpike road from Stirling to Kilsyth ; and the
stone in wrhich the king is said to have fixed his stand¬
ard is still to be seen. Robert commanded all his sol¬
diers to fight on foot. He gave the command of the
centre to Douglas, and Walter the young steward of
Scotland ; his brother Edward had the command of the
right wing, and Randolph that of the left; the king
himself taking charge of the reserve, which consisted
of the men of Argyle, Garrick, and the islanders. In
a valley to the rear, said to he the westward of a rising
ground, now called Gules-hill, he placed the baggage,
and all the useless attendants on his army.
A party of Randolph was commanded to be vigilant in prevent-
Enghsh ca-Jng the English from throwing succours into the castle
feafed by Stirling ; but 800 horsemen commanded by Sir
Randolph. Robert Clifford, made a circuit by the low grounds to
the east, and approached the castle. The king, per¬
ceiving their motions, chid Randolph for his inadver¬
tency, on which the latter hasted to encounter that
body. As he advanced, the English wheeled to attack
him. Randolph drew up his men in a circular form,
holding out their spears on every side. At the first
onset Sic William Daynecourt, an English commander
of distinguished valour, was killed; but Randolph,
who had only a small party with him, was surrounded
on all sides, and in the utmost danger. Douglas per¬
ceived his danger, and requested the king to let him go
to his assistance. Robert at first refused, but after¬
wards consented with reluctance. Douglas set out
without delay ; but as he approached he saw the Eng¬
lish falling into disorder ; upon which he called to his
men to stop, and not diminish the glory of Randolph ScothnAj
and his men by sharing their victory. ' v—■
Robert was in the front of the line when the van- ^ J|)j
guard of the English appeared. He was meanly dress-j^'i,
ed, with a crown above his helmet, and a battle-axe inkillcd in
his hand. Henry de Bohun, an English knight, arm-singleconi
ed cap a-pee, rode forward to encounter him. Robert^ |
did not decline the combat, and struck his antagonist v ^ ^
so violently with his battle-axe, that he is said to have
cleft him down to the chin ; after which the English
vanguard retreated in confusion. The Scottish gene¬
rals are said to have blamed their king for his rashness
in thus encountering Bohun; and he himself, consci¬
ous of the justice of their charge, replied only, “ I
have broken my good battle-axe. ” lg(j
On-Monday the 24th of June, the whole English Commaml
army moved on to the attack. The van, consisting ofers
archers and lancemen, was commanded by Gilbert deI'‘ing'lstl
Clare earl of Gloucester, nephew to the English king/1™'^’
and Humphry de Bohun constable of England ; hut the
ground was so narrow, that the rest of the army had not
sufficient room to extend itself; so that it appeared to
the Scots as consisting of one great, compact bodj'.
The main body was brought up by Edward in person,,
attended by Aymer de Valence earl of Pembroke,
and Sir Giles d’Argentine, two experienced command¬
ers. Maurice abbot of Inchaffray, placing himself on
an eminence, celebrated mass in the sight of the Scot¬
tish army. He then passed along the front, barefooted,
with a crucifix in his hands, and in few words exhort¬
ed the Scots to fight for their rights and liberty. The
Scots fell down on their knees.; which being perceived
by Edward, he cried out, “ They yield! See, they
implore mercy. ” “ They do, ” answered Umfravilie,
one of his commanders, “ they do implore mercy, hut
not from us. On that field they will be victorious or
die. ” 197
As both parties were violently exasperated against The Eng-
each other, the engagement began with great fury.^^^Jj’i
The king of Scotland, perceiving that his troops were.Aifjuj,
grievously annoyed by the English archers, ordered Sir 1314.
Robert Keith the marisehal, with a few armed horse-
raen<, to make a curcuit and attack the archers in flank.
This was instantly accomplished ; and as the weapons
of the archers were useless in a close encounter, they
could make very little resistance, while their flight
spread disorder through the whole army.
Robert now advanced with the reserve; the whole
English army was in the utmost confusion ; for the de¬
feat of the archers had decided the victory in favour of
the Scots. The young and gallant earl of Gloucester
attempted to rally the fugitives, but was thrown from'
his horse, and cut in pieces, which increased the gene¬
ral confusion. At this critical moment, the numerous
attendants on the Scottish camp, prompted by curiosity
or the desire of plunder, issued from their retirement-
The English-mistook them for a body of fresh troops
coming to the assistance of their enemies, and fled with
precipitation on all sides. Many sought refuge among
the rocks in the neighbourhood of Stirling castle, and
many were drowned in the rivers. Pembroke and Sir
Giles d’Argentine had never quitted Edward during,
the action; but now, seeing the battle irretrievably lost,
Pembroke constrained the king to quit the field. D’Ar¬
gentine
SCOT
otland. gentlne refused to fly. He was a man of great valour,
—v~and had a high reputation in Scotland. According to
the common opinion, the three most eminent worthies in
that age were the emperor Henry of Luxemburg, Ro¬
bert Bruce, and Giles d’Argentine. He is said to have
thrice encountered two Saracen warriors in Palestine,
and to have killed them both. His valour now availed
him but little ; for rushing into the midst of the Scots
army, he was instantly cut in pieces. Douglas, with
60 horsemen, pursued Edward closely. At the Tor-
wood he met Sir Lawrence Abernethy, who was hasten-
198 ing to the English rendezvous with twenty horsemen,
ward The latter soon abandoned the cause of the vanquished,
apes ro ani} j0inec} Douglas in the pursuit of Edward, who fled
i theiice t0 Linlithgow. He had scarcely arrived there, when
England, he was alarmed by the approach of the Scots, and again
obliged to fly. Douglas and Abernethy followed him
with the greatest assiduity ; but, notwithstanding their
utmost efforts, Edward got safe to Dunbar, where he
was received by the earl of March, who protected him
till he could be conveyed by sea to England.
Such was the decisive battle of Bannockburn, the
greatest defeat which the English ever sustained from the
Scots. On the side of the latter no persons of note were
slain, excepting Sir William Vipont, and Sir Walter
Ross the favourite of Edward Bruce; and so grievously
was Edward afflicted by the death of this man, that he
199 exclaimed, “ O that this day’s work were undone, so
I ss of the Ross had not died ! ’ On the English side were slain 27
igiish in barons ancl bannerets, and 22 taken prisoners; of knights
B^“e there were killed 42, and 60 taken prisoners ; of es-
:kburn. quires there fell 700 ; hut the number of the common
men who were killed or taken was never ascertained.
The Welsh who had served in the English army were
scattered over the country, and cruelly butchered by the
Scottish peasants. The English, wdio had taken refuge
among the rocks in the neighbourhood of Stirling, sur¬
rendered at discretion: the castle was surrendered, and
the privy seal of England fell into the hands of the king
of Scots. The spoils of the English camp were immense,
and enriched the conquerors, along with the ransom of
many noble prisoners who fell into their hands. Robert
showed much generodty in histreatment of the prisoners
who fell to his share. He set at liberty Ralph de Mon-
thermer, and Sir Marmaduke fwerge, two officers ot
high rank, without ransom ; and by humane and gene¬
rous offices alleviated the misfortune of the rest. The
dead bodies of the earl of Gloucester and the lord Clif¬
ford were sent to England, that they might be interred
with the usual solemnity. There was one Baston, a
Carmelite friar and poet, whom Edward is said to have
brought with him in his train to be spectator of his
achievements, and to record his triumphs. Baston was
made prisoner, and obliged to celebrate the victory of
Robert over the English. This he did in wretched La¬
tin rhymes ; which, however, procured his liberty. Af¬
ter the battle of Bannockburn, the earl of Hereford
retreated to the castle of Bothwell, where he was be¬
sieged by Edward Bruce, and soon obliged to surren¬
der. He was exchanged for the wife, sister, and daugh¬
ter of the king, the young earl of Mar, and the bishop
of Glasgow.
The terror of the English after the defeat of Ban¬
nockburn is almost incredible. Edward Bruce and
Douglas entered England on the eastern side, ravaged
I, A N D. 621
Northumberland, and laid the bishopric of Durham un- CwtlauT
dor conti ibution. Thence they proceeded to Richmond, '— '
laid Appleby and some other towns in ashes, and re- 2C? „
turned home loaded with plunder. Edward summoned ,jlc scot.-,
a parliament at York, in order to concert means for into Engs
the public security ; andappointed the earl of Pembroke, kind,
formerly the guardian of Scotland, to he guardian of
the country between the Trent and the Tweed. Ro¬
bert, however, sent ambassadors to treat for a peace ;
but the Scots were too much elated with their good for¬
tune to make concessions, and the English were not yet
sufficiently humbled to yield to all their demands. The
ravages of war were again renewed: the Scots continu.-
ed their incursions into England, and levied contribu¬
tions in different places. 2oi
In 1315, the English affairs seemed a little to revive. Expeditjen
The Scots, indeed,qilundered Durham and Hartlepool ; Edward
but they were repulsed from Carlisle, and failed in an ;;n,lcu
^ ' , .... t • , i.tti , , Ireland,
attempt on Berwick. 1 lie Irish or Ulster, oppressed by Aiu 13l-
the English government, implored the assistance of Ro¬
bert, and offered to acknowledge his brother Edward
as their sovereign p who accordingly landed at Garrick-
fergus on the 25th of May 1315, with 6000 men.—
This was an enterprise evidently beyond the power of
Scotland to accomplish, and this could not but be per¬
ceived by Robert. There were, however, motives
which induced him to consent. The offer of a crown,
though ever so visionary, inflamed the ambition of Ed¬
ward Bruce, whose impetuous valour disregarded diffi-
culties, however great. It might have been deemed
ungenerous, and perhaps would not have been politic or
safe, to have rejected the proposals of the Irish for the
advancement of his brother, to whom the king owed
more than he could repay. Besides, the invasion of
Ireland seemed a . proper expedient for dividing the oqo
English forces.. The event proved unfortunate. Ed- He is de¬
ward, after performing and suffering more than could jk-ued aud.
almost have been expected from human nature, was kll!t:d•
at last defeated and killed by the English, as is related
under the article Ikeland, N° 42.
The king himself had gone over into Ireland, in or¬
der to assist his brother in attempting the subjection of
that country ; and during his absence the English had
made several attemptsto disturb the tranquillity of Scot- 20j
land. The earl of Arundel invaded the forest of Jed-Unsuccess*--
burgh with a numerous army; but being drawn into an fulattenipts-
ambuscade by Douglas, he was defeated with great loss,
Edmund de Cailaud, a knight of Gascony and gover Scotiaiuk
nor of Berwick, invaded and wasted Teviotdale ; but
while he was returning home loaded with spoil, he was
attacked, defeated, and killed by Douglas. By sea
the English invaded Scotland, and anchored off Inver-
keithing in the frith of Forth, where they soon after
landed. Five hundred men, under the command of
the earl of Fife and the sheriff of that county, attempt¬
ed to oppose their landing, but were intimidated by the
number of their enemies. William Sinclair bishop oi
Dur.keld happened to meet the fugitives; and having,
by his reproaches obliged them to rally, he led them on.;
again to the charge, and drove the English to theic
ships with considerable loss. I* or this exploit Robert con¬
ferred the title of the king’s bishop on Sinclair; andhewas 201
long remembered by his countrymen on this aceoiuit. Negoeia-
In 1317, after King Robert had.returned from his *j°ns,'
Irish expedition, a bull was issued by the pope, (John xl/iTi-
' XXII.)
622 SCOT
Scotland. XXII.) commanding a two years truce between Eng-
land and Scotland, under pain of excommunication.
Two cardinals were despatched into Britain to make
known his commands ; and they were privately empow¬
ered to inflict the highest spiritual censures on iiobert
Bruce, or whomsoever else they thought proper. About
the beginning of September 1317, two messengers were
sent to Robert by the cardinals. The king gave them
a gracious reception ; and after consulting with his ba¬
rons, returned for answer, that he very much desired a
good and lasting peace, either by the mediation of
the cardinals, or by any other means. He allowed the
open letters from the pope, which recommended peace,
to be read in his presence, and listened to them with
due respect. But he would not receive the sealed letters
addressed to/lO&ertf Bruce governor of Scotland, alleging,
that there might be many of his barons whose names
were Robert Bruce, and that these barons might pro¬
bably have some share in the government. Unless,
therefore, the letters were addressed to him as king of
Scotland, he could not receive them without advice of his
parliament, which he promised immediately to assemble
on the occasion. The messengers attempted to apolo ¬
gize for the omission of the title of King. “ The holy
church was not wont, ” they said, “ during the depend¬
ence of a controversy, to write or say any thing which
might be interpreted as prejudicial to the claims of
203 either of the contending parties. ” “ Since, then, ” an-
Spintedbe-swered the king, “ my spiritual father and my holy
-llobert 0t mo^ier would not prejudice the cause of my adversary
by bestowing on me the appellation of king during the
dependence of the controversy, they ought not to have
prejudiced my cause by withdrawing that appellation
from me. I am in possession of the kingdom of Scot¬
land ; all my people call me king ; and foreign princes
address me under that title ; but it seems that my pa¬
rents are partial to their English son. Had you pre¬
sumed to present letters with such an address to any
other sovereign prince, you might perhaps have been
answered in a harsher style ; but I reverence you as
the messengers of the holy see. ”
The messengers, quite abashed with this reply, chan¬
ged the discourse, and requested the king that he would
consent to a temporary cessation of hostilities ; but to
this he declared, that he never would consent while the
English daily invaded and plundered his people. His
counsellors, however, informed the messengers, that if
the letters had been addressed to the king of Scots, the
negociations would instantly have been opened. This
disrespectful omission they imputed to the intrigues of
the English at the court of Rome, hinting at the same
time that they had received this intelligence from A-
206 vignon.
A papal When the messengers had informed the cardinals of
daimeclT ^iese proceedings, the latter determined to proclaim
Scotland. t^e PaPa^ truce in Scotland ; in which hazardous of¬
fice they employed Adam Newton, guardian of the
monastery of Minorites at Berwick, who was charged
with letters to the clergy of Scotland, particularly to
the bishop of St Andrews. The monk found the king
encamped with his army in a wood near Old Cambus,
making preparations for assaulting Berwick. Personal
access was denied to the king; but the monk, in obedi¬
ence to his masters, proclaimed the truce by the autho¬
rity of the pope. The king sent him for answer, that
L A N D.
he would listen to no bulls, till he was treated as king Scotlancl
of Scotland, and had made himself master of Berwick. v—
The poor monk, terrified at this answer, requested T ?07.
either a safe-conduct to Berwick, or permission to pass^lch
into Scotland, and deliver his letters to the Scottishbythekk
clergy. Both were refused ; and he was commanded
to leave the country without loss of time. He set out
for Berwick ; but in his way thither was attacked by
robbers, or some who pretended to be so. By them he
was stripped and robbed of all his parchments, together
with his letters and instructions ; the robbers also, it is
said, tore the pope’s bull, without any regard to its
sanctity. gos
In 1318 King Robert proceeded in his enterprise Berwick
against Berwick, but resolved to employ artifice as well1)es*eSei*
as force in the reduction of it. A citizen of Berwick,
by name Spalding, having been ill used by the governor, Scots,
meditated revenge ; and wrote a letter to a Scottish An. isisl
lord, whose relation he had married, offering on a cer¬
tain night to betray the post where he kept guard.
The nobleman communicated this important intelligence
to the king. “ You did well, ” said Robert, “ in mak¬
ing me your confidant; for if you had told this either
to Randolph or Douglas, you would have offended the
one whom you did not trust: Both of them, however,
shall aid you in the execution of the enterprise. ” The
king then commanded him to repair to a certain place
with a body of troops ; to which place he also gave
separate orders to Douglas and Randolph to repair at
the same hour, each with a body of troops under his
command. The forces, thus cautiously assembled,
marched to Berwick, and, assisted by Spalding, scaled
the walls, making themselves masters of the town in a
few hours. The garrison of the castle, perceiving that
the number of Scots were but small, made a desperate
sally with the men who had fled into the castle from the
town ; but, after an obstinate conflict, they were de¬
feated and driven back, chiefly by the extraordinary va¬
lour of a young knight named Sir William Keith of
Galston.—This happened on the 28th of March 1318. 909
King Robert no sooner heard of the success of hiswh0 inval
forces against the town, than he hastened to lay siege to England
the castle of Berwick. This was soon obliged to capi-w*th gre£
tulate ; after which the Scots entered Northumberland,succe^'
and took the castles of Wark, Harbottle, and Mitford.
In May, they again invaded England, and penetrated
into Yorkshire. In their progress they burnt the towns
of Northallerton, Boroughbridge, Scarborough, and
Skipton in Craven, forcing the inhabitants of Rippon to
redeem themselves by paying 1000 merks : after which
they returned to Scotland with much booty ; and, as an
English historian expresses it, “ driving their prisoners
before them like flocks of sheep. ”
This year the interposition of the pope was obtained
against Robert, with a view to intimidate the Scottish
nation ; and the two cardinals residing in England were
commanded to excommunicate Robert Bruce and his
adherents, on account of his treatment of the messengers
of the holy see, and his assault of Berwick, after a truce 210
had been proclaimed by the papal authority.—This sen- King K<
tence was accordingly put in execution, though Robertbert ex'
had certainly been excommunicated once,if not oftener,^™,1™*,
before. Messengers were sent from Scotland to Rome, tiie p0J
in order to procure a reversal of the sentence ; but Ed¬
ward despatched the bishop of Hereford, and Hugh
d’Espencer
SCOT
■jtland. d’Espencer the Elder, to counteract this negociation, in-
"v ' forming his holiness at the same time of certain inter¬
cepted letters which had been written from Avignon to
Scotland; upon which the pope ordered all the Scots
residing at Avignon, and all of that place who had cor¬
responded with Scotland, to be taken into custody.
The most remarkable transaction of this year, how¬
ever, was the defeat and death of Edward Bruce in
Ireland; of which an account is given under the ar¬
ticle Ireland, N° 42. His body was quartered, and
distributed for a public spectacle over Ireland ; and his
head was presented to Edward by John Lord Berming-
ham the commander of the English army; in return
for which service, he was rewarded with the title of
earl of Lovdh.
In the mean time Edward, who had summoned a
parliament to meet at Lincoln, was obliged to prorogue
it on account of the Scottish invasion, and to assemble
an army at York for the defence of his country. At
Michaelmas it was determined, in a parliament held at
London, that every city and town in England should
furnish a certain proportion of men completely armed.
Thus a considerable body of troops was soon raised ;
but, when they assembled at York, their party animo¬
sities and mutual distrust rose to such a height, that it
was found necessary to send them back to their habita¬
tions.
In 1319, Edward, having succeeded so well in his
negociations with the court of Rome, resolved to make
similiar attempts with other powers to the prejudice of
the Scottish nation. Accordingly he requested the
count of Flanders to prohibit the Scots from entering
his country ; but to this request he received the fol¬
lowing remarkable reply : “ Flanders is the common
country of all men ; I cannot prohibit any merchants
! s 211 from trafficking thither, for such prohibition would
i prove the ruin of my people. ” Finding himself baf-
2" Scot-fad in this attempt, the English monarch once more
1. determined to have recourse to war ; and with this
1319. view commandedhis army to assemble at Newcastle up¬
on Tyne, on the 24th of July 1319: but before he pro¬
ceeded, he requested the prayers of the clergy for the
success of his expedition ; and, to render their prayers
the more effectual, he at the same time demanded from
them a great some of money by wray of loan.
Pi2 Every thing being now in readiness, the English
' i army approached Berwick, which wras commanded by
[ I ie Eng- Waiter the steward of Scotland. This nobleman had
| ' b long apprehended an attack from the English, and had
taken every means of defence in his power. The ene¬
my, however, confiding in their numbers, made a ge¬
neral assault; but were repulsed on the 7 th of Septem¬
ber, after a long and obstinate contest. Their next at¬
tempt was on the side towards the river. At that time
the walls of Berwick were of an inconsiderable height;
and it was proposed to bring a vessel close to them, from
whence the troops might enter by a draw-bridge let
down from the mast. But the Scots annoyed the as¬
sailants so much, that they could not bring this vesstl
within the proper distance ; and at the ebb of the tide
it grounded, and was burnt by the besieged—TheEng-
:?13. lish had then recourse to a newly invented engine which
! ^ln" they called a sotv, but for what reason is unknown. In
! called many particulars it resembled the testudo arietaria of
T) the ancients. It appears to have been a large fabric
LAND. 623
composed of timber, and well roofed, having stages with- Scotland,
in it, and in height surpassing the wall of the town. It1 ""'v 1
was moved upon wheels, and served for the double pur¬
pose of conducting the miners to the foot of the wall,
and armed men to the storm. This machine was
counteracted by one constructed by John Crab, a Fle¬
mish engineer in the Scots service. This was a kind of
moveable crane, whereby great stones might be raised
on high, and then let fall upon the enemy. The Eng¬
lish made a general assault on the quarter towards the
sea, as well as on the land side; so that the garrison,
exhausted by continual fatigue, could scarce maintain
their posts. The great engine moved on to the walls;
and, though stones were incessantly discharged against
it from the crane, their affect was so small, that all hope 214
of preserving Berwick was lost. At length a huge destroyed
stone struct it with such force, that the beams gave g^o^le
way, and the Scots pouring down combustibles upon it, *" S>
it was reduced to ashes. The English, however, still
continued the attack. The steward, with a reserve of
100 men, went from post to post, relieving those who
were wounded or unfit for combat. One soldier of the
reserve only remained with him when an alarm was
given, that the English had burnt a barrier at the port
called St Mary's, possessed themselves of the draw¬
bridge, and fired the gate. The steward hastened thi¬
ther, called down the guard from the rampart, ordered
the gate to be set open, and rushed out upon the enemy.
A desperate combat ensued, and continued till the close
of the day when the English commanders withdrew
their troops. 215
Notwithstanding this brave defence, it was evident "'ho ir^-
that the town could not hold out long without a speedy Eng*
relief; and Robert could not, with any probability of Jnt
success, attack the fortified camp of the English. He
therefore determined to make a powerful diversion in
England, in order to oblige Edward to abandon the
undertaking. By order of the king, 15,000 men en¬
tered England by the western marches. They had con¬
certed a plan for carrying off the queen of England
from her residence near York ; but being disappointed
in this attempt, they laid waste York-shire. The arch¬
bishop of York hastily collected a numerous body of
commons and ecclesiastics, with whom he encountered
the Scots atMitton, near Boroughbridge, in the north 216
riding of York-shire. The English were routed; 3000 ’f110 E»£-
were left dead on the field, and great part of those who^^j1^"
fled perished in the river Swale. In this action 300S;J„C 0f
ecclesiastics lost their lives. The news of this success- Berwick
ful inroad alarmed the besiegers of Berwick. Theraisetk
barons whose estates lay to the southward remote from
the Scotish depredations were eager for continuing the
siege. But they wrere opposed by those of the north ;
who were no less eager to abandon the enter} rise, and
return to the defence of their own country. With them
the earl of Lancaster concurred in opinion ; and under¬
standing that his favourite manor of Pontefract was ex¬
posed to the ravages of the Scots, departed with all his
adherents. Edward, on this, drew off the remainder of
his army, and attempted to intercept Randolph and
Douglas ; but they eluded him, and returned in safety
to Scotland.
The unsuccessful event of this last attempt induced
Edward seriously to think of peace ; and accordingly a
truce between the two nations was concluded on the
3 2ist
624
SCOTLAND.
217
Scotland. 2]st of December 1319 ; which interval of tranquillity
the Scots made use of in addressing a manifesto to the
pope in justification of their cause. This was drawn
up in a spirited manner, and made a very considerable
alteration in the councils of Rome. The pope, foresee¬
ing that Robert would not be terrified into submissions,
ordered Edward to make peace with him in the best
manner he could. A negociation was accordingly set
on foot, which soon terminated ineffectually; the truce
was not renewed, and in 1322 a mutual invasion took
En«iand a-place. The Scots penetrated into Lancashire by the
gain invad-western marches; and, -after plundering the country,
cd by die FCturned home with an extraordinary booty ; while Ed-
Scotlaml b • war'^ made great preparations for an expedition into
the Eng- ^ Scotland, which took place in August the same year.
]isb. In this, however, he was not attended with success.
An. 1322. Hubert had caused all the cattle to be driven olf, and
all the effects of any value to be removed from Lothian
and the Merse : fixing his camp at Culross, on the north
side of the frith of Forth. His orders for removing the
cattle were so punctually obeyed, that according to
common tradition, the only prey which fell into the
hands of the English was a lame bull at Tranent in East
Lothian. Edward, however, still proceeded, and pene¬
trated as far as Edinburgh, but without any hopes of
subduing the kingdom. His provisions being consum¬
ed, many of his soldiers perished for want; and he was
obliged at last to retire without having seen an enemy.
On their return, his soldiers burnt the abbeys of Holy-
rood, Melross, Dry burgh ,ccc. killed many of the monks,
and commited many sacrileges: but when they return¬
ed to their own country, and began again to enjoy a
plentiful living, they indulged themselves in such ex-
018 cesses as were productive of mortal diseases ; insomuch
Co-cat part that, according to an English historian, almost one half
of Edward’s uf the great army which Edward had brought from
army de- England vviih him, were destroyed either by hunger or
gluttony.
No sooner were the English retired than they were
pursued by the Scots, who laid siege to the castle of
Norham. Edward lay at the abbey of Biland in York-
shhe, with a body of troops advantageously posted iu
the neighbourhood. The Scots, invited, as is said, by
some traitors about the king’s person, attemped to sur¬
prise him; and it was with the utmost difficulty that
he made his escape to York, abandoning all his baggage
and treasure to the enemy. The English camp was
supposed to be accessible only by a narrow pass ; but
Douglas undertook to force it, and Randolph present¬
ed himselfas a volunteer in this dangerous service under
The Eng- kjs friend Douglas. The Highlanders and men of the
edaiufth-i"Isles climbed the precipice on which the English camp
ven^out of"stood,, and the enemy were driven out with great loss,
their camp. The Scots pursued them to the very gates of York,
wasted the country without controul, and returned
home unmolested.
Edward, disheartened by repeated losses, agreed to a
cessation of arms “ with the men of Scotland who were
engaged in war with him. ” But the king of Scotland
would not consent to it in that form ; however, he gave
his consent, on the proper form being employed, to
which Edward now made no objection. This treaty
was concluded on the 30th of March 1323, and was
to endure until the 12th of June 1336. It was agreed,
that during the continuance of it, no new fortresses
stroyed.
21.9
220
A truce
concluded
between
England
and Scot¬
land.
An. 1523.
should be erected in Cumberland, to the north of the Scotland
Tyne, or in the counties of Berwick, Roxburgh, or 1 v—
Dumfries; and by a very singular article it was provid¬
ed, that “ Bruce and the people of Scotland might pro¬
cure absolution from the pope ; but in case there was
no peace concluded before the expiration of the truce,
that the sentence of excommunication should revive. ”
The treaty was ratified by Robert, under the style of
the king of Scotland, 7th June 1323.
The next care of Robert was to reconcile himself to
the church, and to obtain from the pope the title of
king, which had been so long denied him; and this,
though not without great difficulty, was at last obtained.
This year a son was born to the king of Scotland at 221
Dunfermline, and named David. The court-poc ts of
the time foretold, that this infant would one day rival pruce
his father’s fame, and prove victorious over the Eng- 222
lish. But scarcely had this future hero come into the Edward
world, when a rival began to make his appearance. ^I
John Baliol, the unfortunate king of Scotland, had long ai,pearai,
been dead ; but left a son named Edward, heir of his at tlieeoij
pretensions to the crown. The young prince had re-of Eng-
sided on his paternal estate in Normandy, neglected and ,“”d*J5a
forgotten ; but in 132J he was called to the court of
England, for the purpose, undoubtedly, of setting him
up as a rival to young David Bruce, in case his father,
now broken with fatigues, should die in a short time.
The negociations for peace, however, still went on ;
hut the commissioners appointed for this purpose made
little progress, by reason of demands for feudal sove¬
reignty still made by the English. The reconciliation
with the church was also broken off, by reason of the ' 1
Scots keeping possession cf Berwick. This had been
taken during the papal truce; and Robert thought
proper still to lie under the sentence of excommunica¬
tion rather than to part with such an important for¬
tress.
In the beginning of the year 1327, Edward II. was
deposed, and succeeded by his son Edward III. then
in liis 15th year. He renewed the negociations for
peace, and ratified the truce which his father It ad made ;
but hearing that the Scots had resolved to invade Log-
land if a peace was not immediately concluded, he sum¬
moned his barons to meet him in arms at Newcastle,
and fortified York.—We are not certainly informed of
the reasons which induced the Scots at this time to dis- ^
regard the truce: however, it is certain, that on the Douglas
15th of June 1327, Douglas and Randolph invaded and Karl
England by the western marches, with an army of<'0,l’h
20,000 horsemen. Against them Edward HI. led "
army, consisting, at the lowest calculation, of 30,000^0.152
men, who assembled at Durham on the ]3th of July.
The Scots proceeded with the utmost cruelty, burning
and destroying every thing as they went along ; and on
the 18th of the same month, the English discovered
them by the smoke and flames which maiked their
progress. They marched forward in order of battle 224
towards the quarter where the smoke was perceived ;Edw. I'
but, meeting with no enemy for two days, they con-
eluded that the Scots had retired. Disencumbering jj"eIU
themselves then of their heavy baggage, they resolved
by a forced march to reach the river Tyne, and, by
posting themselves on the north bank of that river, $0
intercept the Scots on their return. On the 20th of Ju¬
ly, the cavalry having left the infantry behind, crossed
the
SCOTLAND.
625
22.5
' ibligcd
t ff'er a
i ird for
< overing
otland. the river at Haidon : but before the rest of the army
-V"-J could come up, the river was so swelled by sudden rains,
that it could no longer be forded ; and thus the troops
remained divided for several days, without any accom¬
modation for quarters, and in the greatest want of pro¬
visions and forage. The soldiers now began to mur¬
mur; and it was resolved again to proceed southwards.
The king proclaimed a reward of lands, to the value of
100/. yearly for life, to the person who should first dis¬
cover the enemy “ on dry ground, where they might
1 reVhiy ke attacked ; ” and many knights and esquires swam a-
t cross the river on this strange errand. The army con¬
tinued its march for three days without any news of the
Scots ; but on the fourth day, certain accounts of them
were brought by an esquire, Thomas Rokesby : who re¬
ported, that “ the Scots had made him prisoner ; but
that their leaders, understanding his business, had set
him at liberty; saying, that they had remained for eight
days on the same ground, as ignorant of the-motions of
the English as the English were of theirs, and that they
•were desirous and ready to combat. ” With this man
for their guide, the English soon came in view of the
Scots. They were advantageously posted on a rising
ground, having the river Were in front, and their flanks
secured by rocks and precipices. The English dis¬
mounted and advanced, hoping to allure the Scots from
their strong post; but in vain. Edward then sent a
herald to Randolph and Douglas, with a message in the
style of chivalry : “ Either, ” says he, “ suffer me to
pass the river, and leave me room for ranging my forces;
or do you pass the river, and I will leave you room to
range yours ; and thus shall we fight on equal terms. ”
To this the Scottish commanders answered, “ We will
do neither. On our road hither we have burnt and
spoiled the country ; and here we are fixed while to us
it seems good ; and if the king of England is offended,
let him come over and chastise us. ”
The armies continued in sight of each other for two
days; after which the English, understanding that their
enemies were distressed for provisions, resolved to main¬
tain a close blockade, and to reduce them by famine.
Next day, however, they were surprised to find that the
Scots had secretly decamped, and taken post two miles
up the river in ground still stronger, and of more difficult
access, amidst a -great wood. The English encamped
I “"ate opposite to them near Stanhope park. At midnight
a npt of Douglas undertook a most desperate enterprise, resem-
1 glas tobling those of the ancient heroes. With 200 horsemen
Jwr 0f^e aPProached the English camp, and entered it under
the guise of a chief commander calling the rounds. Hav¬
ing thus eluded the centinels, he passed on to the royal
quarters, overthrew every thing that opposed him, and
furiously assaulted the king’s tent. The domestics of
Edward desperately defended theirmaster; and his chap¬
lain, with many others of his household, were slain.
The king himself, however, escaped; and Douglas, dis¬
appointed of his prey, rushed through the enemy, and
effected a retreat with inconsiderable loss.—The follow¬
ing day, the English learned from a prisoner, that or¬
ders had been issued in the Scottish camp for all men
to hold themselves in readiness that evening to follow
the banner of Douglas : on which, apprehending an at¬
tack in the night, they prepared for battle, lighting
great fires, and keeping a strict watch; but in the morn¬
ing, they were informed by two trumpeters whom they
Vol. XVIIi. Part II.'
26
land.
had taken prisoners, that the Scots had decamped he- Scotland.
fore midnight, and were returning to their own coun-' v'——
try. This report could scarcely be credited, and theThe^otg
army remained for some hours in order of battle ; butje{.am^ b
at length some scouts having crossed the river, return-and return
ed with certain intelligence that the Scottish camp was*0 tlluir
totally deserted : which when the young king of Eng-own coun'
land was certainly informed of, he is said to have bursttr^’
into tears. Every preparation had been made by him
for opposing an enemy, and auxiliaries had even been
procured at a most enormous expense at Hainault.
These auxiliaries consisted of heavy-armed cavalry; and
they were now so much worn out, that they could scarce¬
ly move. Their horses were all dead, or had become
unserviceable, in a campaign of three weeks ; so that
they were obliged to procure horses to convey them¬
selves to the south of England. Edward having rested
at Durham for some days, marched to York, where he
disbanded his army. Barbour, a Scots historian, relates,
that there was a morass in the rear of the Scottish camp,
which he calls the two-mile morass; that the Scots made
away over it with brushwood, removing it as they went
along, that the English might not pursue them by the
same way. The English histories are filled with de¬
scriptions of the strange appearance of the deserted
camp of the Scots. They found there a number of skins
stretched between stakes, which served for kettles to
boil their meat; and for bread, each soldier carried a-
long with him a bag of oatmeal, of which he made
cakes, toasting them upon thin iron plates, which are
supposed to have been part of their armour.
On the return of Douglas and Randolph, the king
led his army against the eastern borders, and besieg¬
ed the castle of Norham. But in 1328, Edward,
wearied out with continual losses and disappointments,
consented to a perpetual peace between the two king-
doms on the following conditions. 1. The stone onq^ treaty
which the kings of Scotland were wont to sit at the timeof NWth-
of their coronation shall be restored to the Scots. 2. The,ulPtcm*
king of England engages to employ his good offices atAa'
the papal court for obtaining a revocation of all spiri¬
tual processes depending before the holy see against the
king of Scots, or against his kingdom or subjects. 3. For
these causes, and in order to make reparation for the ra¬
vages committed in England by the Scots, the king of
Scots shall pay 30,000 merks to the king of England.
4. Restitution shall be made of the possessions belong¬
ing te ecclesiastics in either kingdom, whereof they may
have been deprived during the war. 5. But there shall
not be any restitution made of inheritances which have
fallen into the hands of the king of England or of the
king of Scots, by reason of the war between the two
nations, or through the forfeiture of former possessors.
6. Johanna, sister of the king of England, shall be giv¬
en in marriage to David, the son and heir to the king
of Scots. 7. The king of Scots shall provide the prin¬
cess Johanna in a jointure of 2000/. yearly, secured on
lands and rents, according to a reasonable estimation.
8. If either of the parties shall fail in performing these
conditions, he shall pay 2000 pounds of silver to the
papal treasury. The marriage of the infant prince was
celebr ated on the ,12th of July 1328. 009
On the 7th of June 1329 died .Robert Bruce, un-King Ro-
eatest of all tUe Scottish monarchs.bert
have been occasioned by the exces-An‘1529*
-t ’ 4 K give
questionably the gr
His death seems to
626
Scotland, sive fatigues of military service; and Ins disease, called
 by the historians of those times a leprosy, was probably
an inveterate scurvy, occasioned by his way of living.
He died at the age of 55. He was married to Isabella,
daughter of Donald the tenth earl of Marr ; by whom
he had a daughter named Margery, married to Walter
the steward of Scotland; whose husband died in 1326.
The second wife of Robert was Elizabeth, the daughter
of Aymer de Burgh earl of Ulster. By her he had a
son, David II.; a daughter named Margaret, married
to William earl of Sutherland ; another, named Matil¬
da, married to an esquire named Thomas Isaac ; and
Elizabeth, married to Sir Walter Oliphant of Gask.
He had also a natural son named Robert.
That King Robert I. was a man of unquestionable
virtue and humanity, as w’ell as unequalled in the know-
230 ledge of the military art, must be evident from many
Accom\t ofpaTtiGUiarsa]rea(iy related. The only questionable part
c/against of his character is li is severe punishment of a conspiracy
teim." formed against him in the year 1320; a relation of
which, to avoid interrupting our detail of more im¬
portant matters, we have deferred till now.—The chief
of the conspirators wrere William de Soulis, whose an¬
cestor had been a candidate for thecrown of Scotland;
the countess of Strathern, and some other persons of
high rank. The countess discovered the plot; after
which Soulis confessed the whole, and was punished
with perpetual imprisonment ; as well as the countess,,
notw ithstanding her having made the discovery. Gil¬
bert de Malyerb and John de Logie, both knights,
and Richard Brown an esquire, were put to death as
traitors : but the person most lamented was Sir David
de Brechin, for his bravery styled thejlovcer of chivalry.
He was nephew to the king, and served with great re¬
putation against the Saracens. Tohim the conspirators,
after having exacted an oath of secrecy, revealed their
designs. Hecondemned their undertaking, andrefused
to share in it; but did not discover it, on account of
the oath he had taken. Yet for this concealment he
was tried as a traitor, condemned and executed, with¬
out regard to his personal merit or his relationship to
the king. The conspirators were tried before the par¬
liament at Scone in 1320 ; and this session, in which so
much blood was shed, was long remembered by the peo¬
ple under the name of the black parliament. Whether
there was any thing real in this conspiracy, or whether
the king only made use of this pretence to rid himself
of such as were obnoxious to him, cannot now be
231 known with certainty.
S^tl °fl at re^>n Bruce is distinguished by great
deatha and occasioned considerable changes both in
«f Itobertl. property and in power, though it is treated by historians
rather as a period of romantic adventures, than as an
age of uncommon revolutions. However few and un¬
important were his first supporters when he set outfor
Scone, he was crowned w’ith the applause of an indig¬
nant people. His successes, when he began to try his
skill and valour against such gallant soldiers as the Eng¬
lish, were not equal either to his views or his expecta¬
tions. It was the battle of Bannockburn that decided
the fateof Bruce,andsecuredtheindependenceof Scot¬
land. After many conflicts of varioussuccess, the Eng¬
lish government was induced to acknowledge the regal
title of Bruce and the independence of the Scottish na¬
tion,.
A N D.
The revolution that took place when the Saxon race Scotland
of kings ascended the throne of Scotland, was scarcely y—
greater than the changes which happened under the
great restorer of the Scottish monarchy. Some of the
most eminent families in North Britain fell before the
fortune of Bruce, and forfeited their all to his offended
laws. Many subordinate barons, who owed fealty to
those unfortunate families, rose on their ruined estates,
and thus ceased to be vassals to superior lords. Some of
the greatest offices, which had been hereditary in those
eminent houses, passed, with large possessions, into new
families, and raised them to unwonted greatness. It is
not perhaps too much to say, when we assert, that one
half of the forfeited lands of Scotland were conferred
on new proprietors, who gave a different cast to the po¬
pulation of a mixed people. It w as the fault of‘ Bruce,
that he sometimes sacrificed his policy to his gratitude*
but, much as the gratitude or munificence of that great
prince bestowed on those who had fought by his side in.
many a conflict, he attempted not to deprive those who
were innoxious to lawof their possessions. Yet we have
been told, that, in order to check the growing power
of his nobles, he summoned them to show by what right
they held their lands; and that, in reply to this inquiry,
they drew their swords, and exclaimed, “ By these we
acquired our lands, and with these we will defend
them.” This brilliant passage, which has made such a
figure in the fabulous history of those times, and has
been brought forward by the rhetoricians of the present
day as a beautiful instance of the eifect of passion in in¬
verting the usual order of words, appears to have little
foundation in historic truth. We have no example of
any man in Scotland claiming lands by right of con¬
quest ; and, during the reigns of Bruce and his son Da¬
vid, there was no other right to lands, except ancient
possession, or the grant of the king. * *Chd-
As the accession of Robert Bruce forms a new and mers's. ^1
brilliant era in the history of Scotland, it may be proper,
before we proceed in our narration, to take a general
view of the state of manners in North Britain during
the interval that elapsed from the 11th to the 14tli
century. In this inquiry, we must carefully distinguish
between the Gaelic and English inhabitants of Scot¬
land. The former were the most numerous during the
whole of this period. The government was administer¬
ed by Scoto-Saxon kings, on Anglo-Norman principles,
with the assistance of Anglo-Saxon barons. To these
sources must be traced the maxims of the governors and
the customs of the governed Chivalry, with its notions
and pursuits, was no sooner introduced into England by
the Normans, than it was adopted by the Scoto-Saxon
inhabitants of North Britain. Before the reign of Mal¬
colm IV. it had become a sort of maxim, that a prince
could scarcely be considered as a king before he had re¬
ceived the honour of knighthood; and before the acces¬
sion of Alexander III. this maxim was sofuliy establish¬
ed, that it was deemed unfit, or perhaps unlawful, ta
crown their sovereign before he had been knighted.
The barons, in this respect, followed the example of
their sovereigns, by seeking knighthood, at the peril of
life, through many a bloody field. Thus chivalry,
which had been unknown in Celtic Scotland, was fully
established before the time of Robert Bruce ; and ar-
m.orial bearings were universally worn by the nobility.
Before the conclusion of this period, the Scottish bi~-
3 shojasj,
S C O T L
SCOTLAND.
627
otlancL shops quartered the arms of their families, with the
^ badges of their sees ; but the establishment of heralds,
with a lord-lyon at their head, is of a much more mo¬
dern date.
The mode of living, the virtues, the vices, of the
ordinary classes of people, both in South and North
Britain, were nearly the same, as they were of the same
extraction. The manners of the nobles were warlike,
and their diversions were analogous to their manners.
Of these, tournaments were the most splendid ; hunt¬
ing and hawking, the most frequent amusements. The
kings were the great hunters, in imitation of the Nor¬
man sovereigns of England; and they had in every
county a vast forest, with a castle for the enjoyment of
their favourite sport. Attached to every forest there
was a forester, whose duty it was to take care of the
game. The bishops and barons had also their foresters*
with similar powers. The king had his falconer ; an
office which, like that of steward and some others,
gave a surname to one of the principal families of
Scotland.
Of the domestic pastimes of those rustic ages, there
are but few notices. When David led his army to the
battle of the Standard (see N° 92.), his varied people
were amused by gestures, dancings, and buffoons. The
amusements of the same classes of people, in the two
kingdoms, were pretty much the same during those
congenial ages. As the English kings had their min¬
strels, so the Scottish kings had their harpers and their
trumpeters.
The education of such a people was similar to their
manners. As early as the reign of David I. public
schools seem to have existed in the principal towns of
North Britain. The monks, who were ambitious of
engrossing the education of the youth, obtained grants
of the principal seminaries ; and the children of the
most honourable parents were educated in the mona¬
steries. The abbots had sufficient liberality to encou¬
rage the studies of the monks, in order to qualify them
for becoming the instructors of youth.
It may be easily supposed, that the speech of the in¬
habitants derived a tinge from that of their masters, who
were not always natives of North Britain. At the be¬
ginning of the present period, the universal language of
Scotland, if we except the district of Lothian, was Gae¬
lic ; but, towards the end of this period, the language
was considerably changed, especially in the southern
districts, where it was much the same as that spoken
in South Britain in the 11th and 12th centuries.
The manners which were most remarkable, and at¬
tended with the most lasting effects, were produced by
that religious zeal which prevailed among all ranks of
men, from the highest to the lowest. All were active
to endow or to enrich a monastery, according to their
circumstances ; and many persons of rank were studious
to be received into the fraternity of some ecclesiastical
community. It was thought an object of great conse¬
quence to be buried in the consecrated ground of some
religious house ; and, to obtain this end, many lands
and other property were bestowed upon the monks.
Every monastery had its roll of benefactors, and many
a heart beat with desire to be added to the sacred list.
Feasts vrere made, and masses said, for the souls of those
persons who had made the largest donations to the
monks; and particular monks were sometimes maintain¬
ed to pray for the soul of the giver. 1'lie sfiftie*energe- Scotland,
tic principle, which induced the people of that religious —v'——
age to build chapels and erect churches, prompted them
to found magnificent cathedrals, and to delight in the
parade of splendid worship. The age was warlike as ^
well as religious. The dignified clefgy did not scruple
to put on armour with their cassocks. The bishops and
abbots, as well as the barons, had their esquires and
armour-bearers, whom they rewarded with lands.
In the wars of these times, defensive armour was not
commonly worn by the Scottish soldiers. The people
retained the weapons of their ancestors, and their only
defence was a buckler or target of leather. Their chief
offensive weapons were, a spear of enormous length,
and swords of unskilful workmanship. Their men-at-
arms, or cavalry, were accoutred like the same class of
soldiers in England, as they were the descendants of
Englishmen.' 252
After the death of Robert, the administration was as- Randolph
sumed by Randolph, in consequence of an act passed in appointed
1318, by which he was appointed regent in case of the regent-
king’s death. In his new character he behaved himself
in a most exemplary manner; and by impartially dis¬
charging the duties of his station, and rigidly admini¬
stering justice, he secured the public tranquillity in the
most perfect manner. A severe exercise of justice was
now rendered indispensable. During a long course of
war, the common people had been accustomed to plun¬
der and bloodshed; and having now no English ene¬
mies to employ them, they robbed and murdered one 253
another. The methods by which Randolph repressed His excel-
these crimes were much the same with those which have ll\nt a(!rai*
been adopted in latter times; for he made the counties nibtlatlou-
liable for the several robberies committed within their
bounds. He even ordered the farmers and labourers
not to house the tools employed by them in agriculture
during the night-time, that the sheriff’s officers might
be the more vigilant in securing them. He gave orders
for severely punishing all vagiibonds, and obliged them
to work for their livelihood ; making proclamation, that
no man should be admitted into a town or borough who
could not earn his bread by his labour. These regula¬
tions were attended with the most salutary effects. A
fellow who had secreted his own plough-irons, pretend¬
ing that they were stolen, being detected by the sheriff’s
officers, was instantly hanged. A certain man having
killed a priest, went to Rome, and obtained absolution
from the pope ; after which he boldly returned to Scot¬
land. Randolph ordered him to be tried, and, on his
conviction, to be executed: “ Because, ” said he, “ al¬
though the pope may grant absolution frgm the spiritual
consequences of sin, he cannot screen offenders from
civil punishment. ” 9,34
King Robert, just before his death, had desired that Douglas
his heart might be deposited in our Saviour’s sepulchre sets outfcr
at Jerusalem ; and on this errand the great commander j
Douglas was employed, who set sail in June 1330 with Kiu<> Re¬
ft numerous and splendid retinue. He anchored off Sluys bert’sheart.
in Flanders, the great emporium of the Low Countries, An- 153a
where he expected to find companions in his pilgri¬
mage ; but learning that Alphonso XL the young king
of Leon and Castile, was engaged in a war with Osymn
the Moor, he could not resist the temptation of fighting
against the enemies of Christianity. He met with an
honourable reception at the court of Spain, and readily
4 K 2 obtained
628
S C O T L A N D.
Scotlaiiii.
S35
Is killed
by the
IVIooks in
Spam.
236
Edward
Ilaliol
tlaims the
crown of
Scotland.
■&9-1331.
obtained leave to enter into what was thought the com¬
mon cause of Christianity. The Spaniards first came in
sight of the enemy near Theba, a castle on the fron¬
tiers of Andalusia, towards the kingdom of Granada.
The Moors were defeated ; but Douglas giving way to
his impetuous valour, pursued the enemy too eagerly,
and throwing among them the casket which contained
the heart of his sovereign, cried out, “ Now pass thou
onward as thou wert wont; Douglas will follow thee
or die. ” The fugitives rallied and surrounded Doug¬
las ; who, with a few of his followers, were killed in at¬
tempting to rescue Sir Walter St Clair of Roslin. His
body was brought back to Scotland, and interred in
the church of Douglas. His countrymen perpetuated
his memory by bestowing upon him the epithet of the
good Sir James Douglas, He was one of the greatest
commanders of the age; and is said to have been en¬
gaged in 70 battles, 57 of which he gained, and was
defeated in 13.—Of him it is reported, that meeting
with an officer at the court of Alphonso, who had his
face quite disfigured with scars, the latter said to him,
“ It astonishes me, that you, who are said to,have seen
so much service, should have no marks of wounds on
your face. ” “ Thank heaven, ” answered Douglas,
“ I had always an arm to protect my face. ”
In 1331, Edward Baliol began to renew his preten¬
sions to the crown of Scotland, about the same time
that David II. and Ids consort Johanna were crowned
at Scone ; which ceremony was performed on the 24th
of November. Some historians relate, that he was ex¬
cited to this attempt by one Twynham Lowrison, a
person who had been excommunicated for refusing to
do penance for adultery, and afterwards was obliged to
fly on account of his having way-laid.the official, beaten
him, and extorted, a sum of money from him.. But
however this be, it is certain, that in this year dif¬
ferences began to arise with England, on the following
account. It had been provided by an article of the
treaty of Northampton, that 11 Thomas Lord VTake of Scotland
Ledel, Henry de Beaumont, called earl of Buchan, and
Henry de Percy, should be restored to their estates,
of which the king of Scots, by reason of the war be¬
tween the two nations, had taken possession. ” This
article had been executed with respect to Percy, but
not to the other two ; and though Edward had repeat¬
edly complained of tills neglect, he could not obtain
any satisfaction, (c)
The disinherited barons now resolved to invade Scot¬
land, though their force consisted of no more than 3000
infantry, and 400 men at arms. Edward would not
permit them to enter Scotland by the usual way, as he
himself did not yet choose openly to take part in their
quarrel. For this reason they were obliged to take
shipping, and landed at a place called Ravenshare, Ra-
venspur, or Ravensburgh, at the mouth of the Humber.
Randolph, having intelligence of the English prepara¬
tions, had marched an army to the frontiers of East Lo¬
thian; but, being afterwards infermeclof the naval ar¬
mament, he marched northwards ; but died at Mussel¬
burgh, six miles east of Edinburgh, on the 20th of July 237
1332. With-him died the glory of Scotland. The Randolpl
earl of Marr, a man whose only merit consisted in his tl?e regcn
being related to the royal family, was chosen to succeed
him in the regency.—Edward, in the mean time, fell*
on a most curious expedient to show the justice of his
cause. In March 1332, he had published a prohibition
for any person to infringe the treaty of Northampton.
The disinherited lords had been suffered to embark,
expressly for the purpose of invading Scotland, after
this prohibition was published. After they voere gone,
Henry de Percy was empowered, to punish those who
should presume to array themselves in contempt of his
prohibition ; and because he understood that the Scots
were arming in order to repel those invaders whom
Edward had indirectly sent against them, he empow er¬
ed Henry de Percy to arm against them.
Om
(g) As this is an important period of history, we shall transcribe the opinion of Lord Hailes concerning tha
causes of this strange delay of executing an article seemingly of little importance where a nation was concern¬
ed. “ By the treaty of Northampton (says he), all the claims of the English barons to inheritances in Scotland
were disregarded, excepting those of Henry de Percy, Thomas Lord Wake of Ledel, and Henry de Beaumont.-
Percy procured satisfaction : but the others did not.
“ Henry de Beaumont, in the reign of Edward II. had associated himself with the nobility against the D?Es-
penseus, and on that account had suffered imprisonment and exile. He aided Queen Isabella in the invasion
which proved the cause of the deposition, captivity, and death of her husband. Although, under the admini ¬
stration of Mortimer, he had obtained a share in the partition of the spoils of the D’Espensers, he persisted im
opposing the measures of the new favourite and although his own interests were secured by the treaty of
Northampton, he boldly exclaimed against the injustice done to the other barons by that treaty. He joined
the princes of the blood-royal in their attempt to rescue the young king from the hands of Isabella and hen
minion, and place him in their own ; and, on the failure of that ill-advised conspiracy, he again took refuge in
foreign parts. It appears that Lord Wake, having followed the political opinions of Henry de Beaumont, was-
involved in like calamities and disgrace. While the queen dowager and Mortimer retained their influence, the
claims of those two barons were altogether overlooked : But within 48 hours after the execution of Mortimer,
a peremptory demand was made by Edward III. to have their inheritance restored.
“ The demand was unexpected and alarming. Made at the very moment of the fall of Isabella and Mor¬
timer, and in behalf of men who had loudly protested against the treaty, of Northampton, it indicated a total and
perilous change in the system of the English..
“ Randolph, of late years, had beheld extraordinary vicissitudes in England: The D’Espensers alternately per¬
secuted and triumphant, and at length abased in the dust: The fugitive Mortimer elevated to supreme authority,
victorious over the princes of the blood-royal, and then dragged to a gibbet. Hence it was natural for Randolph
to wish, and even to look, for some.new revolution, which might prove more favourable to the Scottish interests^
Meanwhile*.
SCOT
otland. On the 31st of July, Edward Baliol and his associ-
-'v—-' ates landed in the neighbourhood of Kinghorn, on the
^ Forth ; routed the earl of Fife, who opposed them ; and
at marched next day to Dunfermline. Having then or-
ughorn, dered his fleet to wait for him at the mouth of the
I defeats Tay, he proceeded northwards, and encamped on the
Scots, ^pier’s acre at Forteviot, with the river Earn in front.
Nothing, however, could be more dangerous than his
present situation, and his destruction seemed to he in¬
evitable. The earl of Marr was encamped with a nu¬
merous army on the opposite bank of the river Earn,
in the neighbourhood of Duplin ; and another, nearly
as numerous, had advanced from the south, through the
Lothians and Stirlingshire, and fixed its quarters at
Auchterarder, eight miles to the west of Forteviot.
Historians differ as to the number of the two armies.
Fordun says, that the regent had with him 30,000
men, and the earl of March as many; and that Baliol
had between 500 and 600 men at arms ; that is, horse¬
men completely armed. Flemingford reckons each of
the Scots armies at 40,000, and Baliol’s at 500 armed
men. Knyghton says, that Baliol, when he landed in
Fife, had 300 armed men, and 3000 more of different
sorts ; but that he had in all only 2500 men in his camp
at Earn. In this desperate situation, the English general
formed a design of attacking the Scots in their camp.
They were directed to a ford by Andrew Murray of
Tullibardine. The Scots kept no watch, but abandon¬
ed themselves to intemperance and riotous mirth; while
their enemies, led by Alexander Moubray, crossed the
river at midnight. They ascended a rising ground,
came unperceived on the right flank of the Scottish ar¬
my, and made a dreadful slaughter. At the first at¬
tack, young Randolph hastened with 300 men at arms
to oppose the enemy ; and being seconded by Murdoch
earl of Menteith, Alexander Fraser, and Robert Bruce
natural son to the late king, he gave a check to the
English, and maintained the combat on equal terms.
But now the regent himself, along with the whole mul¬
titude, rushed forward to battle without the least order:
so that while the hindmost pressed on, the foremost were
thrown down, trodden upon, andsuffocated. The slaugh¬
ter lasted many hours, and the remains of this vast ar¬
my were utterly dispersed. Many men of eminence
LAND. 629
were killed ; among whom were Donald earl of Marr, Scotland,
author of the whole catastrophe ; Thomas earl of Mo- v——'
ray, Murdoch earl of Menteith, Robert earl of Garrick,
Alexander Fraser, and Robert Bruce. The slaughter
-of the infantry and of the men at arms was very great;
the most probable accounts make it 2000 men at arms,
and upwards of 13,000 common soldiers. The loss of
the English was inconsiderable. 039
The day after this victory, Baliol took possession of Farther
Perth ; and, apprehending an attack from the carl
March, caused the ditch to be cleared, and the town 1Sa 10 *
to be fortified with pailisadoes. The first information
which the earl received of this dreadful defeat was
from a common soldier, who fled from the place mor¬
tally wounded. When this poor wretch came up, he
had time to do no more than to show his wounds ; af¬
ter which he fell down, and expired. On his arrival at
the field of battle, he found a dreadful confirmation of
the intelligence given by the soldier; but instead of
taking his measures with any prudence, he and his men
hurried on to Perth, actuated only by a blind im¬
pulse to revenge. At first they designed to assault
the place ; but their hearts failing them, they next
determined to reduce it by famine. This, however,
could not be done unless the Scots were masters at sea.
John Crabb, the Flemish engineer, (who had distin¬
guished himself by destroying the famous engine called
the soiv at the siege of Berwick), had continued for
many years to annoy the English on the eastern coasts.
After the blockade of Perth was formed, Ire came
with ten vessels to the mouth of the Tay, where the
English fleet was, and took the ship belonging to Hend¬
ry de Beaumont; but soon after, all his ten vessels were 040
burnt by the English in a general engagement. Af- He is
ter this the blockade of Perth was raised, the earl ofclOWIK^
March disbanded his army, and Edward Baliol was^1"^*
crowned king of Scotland at Scone, on the 24th of "
September 1332.
The new monarch was m> sooner put in possession
of the kingdom, than he left Perth in the hands of the
earl of Fife, while he himself repaired to the southern
parts of the kingdom. But the party of King David
was far from being extinguished. Baliol was scarcely
gone, when the town of Perth was surprised, and its
fortifications
Meanwhile, with great reason and good policy, he delayed the restitution of the inheritances claimed under the
treaty of Northampton, in behalf of the avowed opposers of that treaty.
u Besides, it was necessary for Randolph to be assured that the Rnglish, while they urged the perfoimance
of one article of that treaty, did, on their part, sincerely purpose to perform its moie impoitant at tides, by
continuing to acknowledge the succession in the house of Bruce, and the independency ol the Scottish nation.
“ Of this, however, there was much reason to doubt. For the English king had taken Baliol under his pro¬
tection, and had granted him a passport to come into England, with permission to leside there during a whole
year, (10th October 1330). These things had no friendly or pacific appearance.
“ Be this as it will, the event too fatally justified the apprehensions of Randolph for, while Edward HI.
was demanding restitution of the estates reserved by the treaty of Northampton, bis subjects vveie arming in
violation of that treaty. , , „ T . ..
“ It is remarkable, that, on the 24th March 1331-2, Edward appears to have known of the hostile associa¬
tion of the disinherited barons. His words are, ‘ Quia ex relatu accepimus plurimorum, quod diveisi romines
de regno nostro, et alii (meaning Baliol and his attendants), pacem inter nos, et Robertum de Bi ns, nuper
Regem Scotorum, initam et confirmatam infringere machinantes, diversas congregationes hommum ad arma
indies faciunt, et, per marchais regni nostri> dictam terrain Scotiae, ad earn modo gnerrino impugnandum, mgieih
intendunt ; ’ Fcedera, tom. iv. p. 511. And yet, on the 22d April following, he demanded restitution ot tbe
inheritance of Lord Wake> one of the barons in arms ; ” F<xdera} tom. iv. p. 51?.
SCOTLAND.
630
Scotland, fortifications razed, by James Fraser, Simon Fraser,
 and Robert Keith. The earl of Fife was made pri¬
soner, with his family and vassals. Andrew Murray
of Tullibardine, who had directed the English to a ford
on the river Earn, was put to death as a traitor. Such
of the Scots as still adhered to the interest of their
infant prince, chose Sir Andrew Murray of Bothwell
regent. He was a brave and active man, but had not
as yet sufficient force to attempt any thing consider-
241 able.
His shame- In the mean time, Baliol behaved in a most scanda-
lul beha- ]ous manner. At Roxburgh, he made a solemn sur¬
render of the liberties of Scotland ; acknowledged Ed¬
ward for his liege-lord ; and, as if this had not been suf¬
ficient, he became bound to put him in possession of the
town, castle, and territory of Berwick, and of other
lands on the marches, extending in all to the yearly va¬
lue of 2000/. “ on account, ” as the instrument bears,
“ of the great honour and emoluments which we have
procured through the svfferance of our lord the king,
and by the powerful and acceptable aid which we have
received from his good subjects. ” He also proffered
to marry the princess Johanna, whom he considered as
only betrothed to David Bruce, and to add 500/. to
her jointure; and this under the penalty of 10,000/.
to be appropriated as a portion to the young lady, or
otherwise disposed of for her behoof. He further en¬
gaged to provide for the maintenance of David Bruce
as the king of England should advise; and, lastly, he
became bound to serve Edward in all his w ars, except¬
ing in England, Wales, and Ireland, for the space of a
year together, with 200 men at arms, and all at his
own charges ; and he bound his successors to perform
the like service with 100 men at arms. But afterwards
Edward having engaged to maintain him on the throne
of Scotland, Baliol bound himself to serve him in all
his wars whatever.
Though the greatest part of the nation submitted to
this shameful treaty, it roused the indignation of those
who wished well to the liberties of their country.
John, the second son of Randolph, now earl of Moray
by the death of his brother; Archibald, the youngest
brother of the renowned Douglas; together with Si¬
mon Fraser, assembled a body of horsemen at Moffat
242 in Annandale ; and, suddenly traversing the country,
Baliol sur- assaulted Baliol unexpectedly at Annan. His brother
prised and Henry made a gallant resistance for some time; but
•fScotland was at last overpowered by numbers and killed, to-
'gether with several other persons of distinction. Baliol
himself escaped almost naked, with scarcely a single at¬
tendant, and fled to England. After his departure,
the Scots began to make depredations on the English
frontiers. Edward issued a proclamation, in which he
solemnly averred, that the Scots, by their hostile de¬
predations, had violated the peace of Northampton.
Baliol, in the mean time, being joined by some English
barons, returned to Scotland ; took and burnt a castle
where Robert de Colville commanded ; and, establish¬
ing his quarters in the neighbourhood of Roxburgh,
began to make preparations for besieging Berwick. Just
after his arrival, Archibald Douglas, with 3000 men,
invaded England by the western marches, plundered
the country, and carried off much booty; in revenge
for which, Sir Anthony de Lucy made an inroad into
.Scotland, defeated and took prisoner Sir William Dou¬
glas, celebrated in history by the appellation of the Scotland!
knight cf Liddesdale, whom Edward caused to be put in '—-v—-
irons. About the same time, Sir Andrew Murray the
regent attacked Baliol, with a view to discomfit him
before the reinforcements which he expected out of 24-
England could arrive. A sharp conflict ensued at Rox- The Scot
burgh, in which the regent, attempting to rescue a sol-regentde-
dier, was taken prisoner : and thus Scotland was at ani
once deprived of its two ablest commanders. son™ pri'
Archibald Douglas was now declared regent; and
Edward prepared to invade Scotland, in order to take
vengeance on its inhabitants, as he said, for the wrongs
they had done, and to seek such redress as might seem
good to himself. He ordered possession to be taken
of the isle of Man in his own name ; and soon after
made it over to Sir William de Montague, who had
some claim of inheritance in it. The chief design of
Edward in this expedition, however, was to obtain pos¬
session of the town of Berwick, which had been already 244
ceded to him by Baliol. This appeared to the Scots a Berwick
place of no less importance than it did to Edward ; andbesiege“ l|
therefore they took all the precautions in their power
to prevent the loss of it. The earl of March was ap- b i'
pointed to command the castle, and Sir William Keith
the town. The Scots made an obstinate defence; yet
it was evident that they must soon have yielded if they
had not been relieved. At length the regent, with a
numerous army, appeared in the neighbourhood. He
endeavoured to convey succours into the town, or to
provoke the enemy to quit the advantage of the ground,
and engage in battle. But all his efforts were in vain ;
the English obstructed every passage, and stood on the
defensive. 245
The regent then entered Northumberland, wasted the The Scot,
country, and even assaulted Bamborough-castle, whereinvac,e
Philippa the young queen of England had her residence, 1No1rthT'
He fondly imagined that Edward III. would have aban-vahi!"
doned the siege of Berwick, after the example of his
father, in circumstances not dissimilar. Edward, how¬
ever, persevered in his enterprise.
During a general assault, the town was set on fire,
and in a great measure consumed. The inhabitants ha¬
ving experienced the evils of a siege, and dreading the
greater evils of a storm, implored the earl of March and
Sir William Keith to seek terms of capitulation. A
truce was obtained; and it was agreed, that the town
and castle should be delivered up on terms fair and
honourable, unless succours arrived before the hour of
vespers on the 19th July.
By the treaty, Sir William Keith was permitted to 246
have an interview with the regent. He found him The Scots
with his army in Northumberland; ui’ged the necessity re3oEe t0
of his return ; and showed him, that Berwick, if not^
instantly relieved, was lost for ever. Persuaded by his meut
importunities, the regent resolved to combat the Eng¬
lish, and either to save Berwick or lose the kingdom.
On the afternoon of the 19th of July, the regent pre¬
pared for battle. He divided his army into four bo¬
dies. The first was led by John earl of Moray, the son
of Randolph ; but as he was young and inexperienced
in war, James and Simon Fraser, soldiers of approv¬
ed reputation, were joined with him in the command.
The second body was led by the steward of Scotland,
a youth of 16, under the inspection of his uncle Sir
James Stewart of Rosyth. The third body was led
otland.
247
tie of
lidon,
248
e Scots
eated,
1 the
ent
ed.
SCOTLAND.
6SL
by the regent himself, having with him the earl of
Carrick and other barons of eminence. The fourth
body, or reserve, appears to have been led by Hugh
earl of Ross.
The numbers of the Scottish arm)' on that day are
variously reported by historians. The continuator of
Hemingford, an author of that age, and Knyghton,
who lived in the succeeding age, ascertain their num¬
bers with more precision than is generally required in
historical facts.
The continuator of Hemingford minutely records
the numbers and arrangement of the Scottish army.
He says, that, besides earls and other lords or great
barons, there were 55 knights, 1100 men at arms, and
13-500 of the commons lightly armed, amounting in
all to 14,655.
With him Knyghton appears to concur, when his
narrative is cleared from the errors of ignorant or care¬
less transcribers.
It is probable, however, that the servants who tended
the horses of persons of distinction and of the men at
arms, and the useless followers of the camp, were more
numerous than the actual combatants.
The English were advantageously posted on a rising
ground at Halidon, with a marshy hollow in their
front. Of their particular disposition we are not in¬
formed, farther than that Baliol had the command of
one of the wdngs.
It had been pimvided by the treaty of capitulation,
“ That Berwick should be considered as relieved, in
case 200 men at arms forced their passage into the
town.” This the Scottish men at arms attempted;
but Edward, aware of their purpose, opposed them in
person, and repulsed them with great slaughter. The
Scottish army rushed on to a general attack ; but they
had to descend into the marshy hollow before mount¬
ing the eminences of Halidon. After having struggled
with the difficulties of the ground, and after having
been incessantly galled by the English archers, they
reached the enemy. Although fatigued and disorder¬
ed in their ranks, they fought as it became men who
had conquered under the banners of Robert Bruce.
The English, with equal valour, had great advantages
of situation, and were better disciplined than their an¬
tagonists. The earl of Ross led the reserve to attack
in flank that wing where Baliol commanded; but he
was repulsed and slain. There fell with him Kenneth
earl of Sutherland, and Murdoch earl of Menteith.
In other parts of the field, the events wrere equally
disastrous. The regent received a mortal wound, and
the Scots everywhere gave way. In the field, and
during a pursuit for many miles, the number of slain
and prisoners was so great, that few of the Scottish
army escaped.
Besides the earls of Ross, Sutherland, and Men¬
teith, there were among the slain Malcolm earl of Le¬
nox, an aged baron ; he had been one of the foremost
to repair to the standard of Robert Bruce, and his
last exertions were for his country: Alexander Bruce
earl of Carrick, who atoned for his short defection
from the family of his benefactor : John Campbell earl
of Athol, nephew of the late king; James Fraser, and
Simon Fraser; John dc Graham, and Alexander de
Eindesay, Alan Stewart, and many other persons of
eminent rank.
The Steward had two uncles, John and James. Scotland.
John was killed, and James mortally wounded and -v—-J
made prisoner.
The regent, mortally wounded, and abandoned on
the field of battle, lived only to see his army discom¬
fited and himself a prisoner.
This victory was obtained with very inconsiderable
loss. It is related by the English historians, that on
the side of their countrymen, there were killed one
knight, one esquire, and twelve foot soldiers. Nor will
this appear incredible, when we remember, that the
English ranks remained unbroken, and that their ar¬
chers, at a secure distance, incessantly annoyed the
Scottish infantry. 24Q
According to capitulation the town and castle of Berwick
Berwick surrendered, and the English king took 12 surrenders*
hostages, for securing the fidelity of the citizens. and almost
Thus was the whole of Scotland reduced under the submit^1
subjection of Baliol, excepting a few fortresses; so that
it became necessary to provide for the safety of the
young king and queen. Accordingly, they were con¬
veyed to France, where they were honourably enter¬
tained. Meanwhile, Baliol employed himself in mak¬
ing new concessions to his liege-lord Edward ; and in
1334 the work of submission wras completed by a so-
lesnn instrument drawn up by Baliol, in which he sur¬
rendered great part of the Scottish dominions, to be for 2r.Q
ever annexed to the crown of England. In this instru- Mean sub-
ment Baliol said, that “ he had formerly become bound missions of '
to make a grant to Edward of lands on the marches, Balu>1-
to the amount of fovo thousand-pound lands; that the An’
Scottish parliament had ratified his obligation ; and that
he had accordingly surrendered Berwick and its terri¬
tory ; and now, for completely discharging his obli¬
gation, he made an absolute surrender to the English
crown of the forests of Jedburgh, Selkirk, and Ettrick ;
of the counties of Roxburgh, Peebles, and Dumfries ;
together with the county of Edinburgh, and the con¬
stabularies of Linlithgow and Haddington. ” This ex¬
traordinary surrender was made with so much precipi¬
tation, that Baliol forgot to except his own private
estate out of it. This, however, was generously re¬
stored to him by Edward; who proclaimed, that*.
“ having already received satisfaction in full, he had
too much reverence for God, justice, and good faith
to man, to allow the cession to be prejudicial to the
private rights of the king of Scots. ” At the same
time, Baliol presented himself before his liege-lord ;
did homage, and swore fealty, “ for the whole king¬
dom of Scotland and the isles adjacent.” 0.J
A quarrel now arose among the disinherited lords, ^ qUarrel
to whom this revolution had been owing, which pro-among the
duced the worst consequences to the interest of Baliol. English
The brother of Alexander de Moubray died, leaving |'^hented
daughters, but no issue-male. Moubray having claim¬
ed a preference to the daughters of his brother, Baliol
countenanced his suit, and, as it appears, put him in
possession of the inheritance. Henry de Beaumont earl
of Buchan, and David de Strathbolgie or Hastings,
earl of Athol, espoused the cause of the heirs-general;
but perceiving that their solicitations were not heard,
they left the court in disgust, and retired to their cas¬
tles about the end of August 1334. Baliol soon per¬
ceived his error in offending these two powerful lords ;
and in order to regain their favour, dismissed Moubray,
and
f)32
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
252
l^uliol’s
and conferred on David de Stratlibolgie the whole
.estates of the young Steward of Scotland. Thus he
alienated the affections of Moubray, and added to the
power of the earl of Athol, who was by far too power¬
ful before.
About this time Sir Andrew Murray of Bothwcll,
party every having regained liis freedom, began to assemble the
feated ^ fr’en^s °f liberty, and was immediately joined by Mou-
bray. In a moment every thing was in confusion.
Geffrey de Moubray, governor of Roxburgh, revolted;
Henry de Beaumont was besieged in his castle of Dun-
darg by Murray and Moubray, and forced to surren¬
der, but obtained liberty to depart into England.
Riehard Talbot, endeavouring to pass into England
with a body of troops, was defeated and taken prisoner
by Sir William Keith of Galston. The Steward of
Scotland, who had lain concealed in the isle of Bute
ever since the battle of Halidon, now passed over to
the castle of Dunbarton, which was one of the few forts
remaining to King David. With the assistance of Dou-
gal Campbell of Lochow, he made himself master of the
castle of Dunoon in Cowal. His tenants of the isle of
Bute attacked and slew Alan de Lile the governor, and
presented his head to their master. John the son of
Gilbert, governor of the castle of Bute, was made pri¬
soner in the action. He ordered the garrison to sur¬
render, and attached himself to the Scottish interest.
Encouraged by these successes, the Steward entered
his ancient inheritance of Renfrew, and compelled the
inhabitants to acknowledge the sovereignty of David.
Godfrey ue Ross, the governor of Ayrshire, submitted
to the Steward. The earl of Moray returned from
France, whither he had fled after the battle of Hali¬
don, and was acknowledged regent along with the
Steward. The earl, having raised a body of troops,
marched against the earl of Athol, compelled him to
o-- retire into Lochaber, and at last to surrender; after
He retires which he embraced the party of the conquerors. Ba-
imo Eng- hoi was now obliged to retire again into England, in
land, and orc{er solicit assistance from Edward; and this was
assistance0 readily granted. Edward himself took the field at a
of Edward, very unfavourable season for military enterprises. His
army was divided into two parts. With the one Ed¬
ward wasted Lothian, while Baliol did the like in A-
nandale with the other; and in the mean time, Patrick
earl of March, notwithstanding the unfavourable pos¬
ture of affairs, renounced .the allegiance be had sworn
to England. His motive for this was, that though the
kings of England had maintained him in an independ¬
ency dangerous to Scotland, he was assured that they
would never permit him to become formidable in a
country which they themselves possessed.
The year 1335 is remarkable for the siege of Loch-
leven castle by the English, under John de Strivelin.
besie'vell'bv This f°rt is built on a small island, and very difficult
the Eng- ’ of access. The English commander erected a fort in
lish. the cemetery of Kinross ; and at the lower end of the
An. 1555. Jake, from whence runs the stream called ///e Water of
Leven, he raised a strong and lofty bulwark, by means
of which he hoped to lay the island under water, and
oblige the garrison to surrender. But four of the
Scots soldiers, having found means to approach the
bulwark undiscovered, pierced it so dexterously, that
tii waters, rushing out with a prodigious force, over¬
flowed part of the English camp ; and the garrison,
1
254
Lochleven
castle un-
sallying out under the confusion occasioned by this un* Scotland,
expected inundation, stormed and plundered the fort—-v—-1
at Kinross. At this time the English commander,
with many of his soldiers, happened to be absent at
Dunfermline, -celebrating the festival o? St Margaret.
On his return, he swore that he would never desist till
he had taken the place, and put the garrison to the
sword; but his utmost efforts were at last baffled, and
he was obliged, notwithstanding his oath, to desist.
In the mean time, the regents assembled a parliament
at Dairsy, near Cupar in Eife; but no plan of defence
could be fixed on, by reason of the animosities and fac¬
tions which prevailed among the barons. Through the
mediation of the French, some terms of peace were pro¬
posed ; but being rejected by the English, Edward
again invaded Scotland, cruelly ravaging the country
with one army, while Baliol and the earl of Warenne
did the same with another. Soon after the invasion,
Count Guy of Namur landed at Berwick with a con-CountGm
siderable number of men at arms in the service of the of Namur
English. He advanced to the neighbourhood of Edin-
burgh; but was defeated and taken prisoner by the
earls of March and Moray, and Sir Alexander Ramsay.
In this engagement, one Richard Shaw, a Scottish
esquire, was singled out by a combatant in the army
of Count Guy, and both pierced each other with their
spears ; the stranger being stripped, was discovered to
be a woman. The earl of Moray treated Guy with 2-6
the greatest respect, not only allowing him and the The Scots
remainder of his troops to depart from Scotland with- regent i
out molestation, but even attending him to the bor-ta,ien Pn'
ders, accompanied by William Douglas and his brother conse’.
James. On his return, William de Pressen, wardenquence of
of the castle and forest of Jedburgh, attacked and de-wlwha
feated his party; James Douglas was killed, the earl
himself taken prisoner, and carried into England. concluded
Thus was the Scottish nation once more reduced to with Eng.
the brink of ruin. Alexander de Moubray, Geffrey laucl-
de Moubi ay, and some others, pretending powers from
“ the earl of Athol and Robert tbs Steward of Scot¬
land, ” concluded a treaty with Edward at Perth; the
substance of which was, that all the Scots should re¬
ceive pardon, and have their fees, lands and offices re¬
stored, excepting those who by common assent in par¬
liament should be excluded. The liberties of the
church and the ancient laws and usages of Scotland
were to remain in full force. All offices were to be
filled with Scotsmen, excepting that the king should
appoint whom he pleased within his regalities. 257
The carl of Athol now began to persecute with the The earl of
utmost fury those who wished well to the cause of Scot- Athol de-
land. With 3000 men he besieged the castle of Kil-^®^
drommey, which had hitherto been the great refuge of
King David’s party. Sir Andrew Murray of Both-
well resolved at all events to attempt the rescue of his
wife and family, who were shut up in his castle. With
1100 men he surprised Athol in the forest of Kiiblain.
The earl’s men, seized with a panic, fled and dispersed
themselves ; on which their commander, refusing to ac¬
cept of quarter, was killed. Sir Andrew Murray then
assembled a parliament at Dunfermline, where he was
immediately appointed regent. 258
In 1336 the king of England perceiving that the Ed want
Scots were taken under the patronage of France, re*yfj"sScot-
solved to invade their country, and crush them at oop^iand.
before An. 1336.:
S C O T L A N D.
otlaml. before they could have any assistance from their new
-v 1 allies. In this expedition he penetrated as far as In¬
verness; but the Scots* commanded by Sir Andrew
Murray, avoided coming to a general action ; so that
Edward could not effect any thing of consequence.
The inhabitants of Aberdeen attacked one Thomas
Rosheme, who had landed at Dunottar. They were
defeated; but Rosheme fell in the action. Edward
chastised the vanquished severely for their temerity, and
laid the town in ashes. He then began to repair the
castles whose fortifications had been demolished by
King Robert. He put in a state of defence the castles
of Dunottar, Kinclevin, Lawrieston, Stirling, Bothwell,
Edinburgh, and Roxburgh ; greatly augmented the
fortifications of Perth, and left a considerable body of
troops in the place. The Scots began to reduce these
castles as soon as Edward was departed; and in 1337,
under Sir Andrew Murray, invaded Cumberland. No
great exploits, however, were now performed on either
side. Edwardbeing employed in preparations for invad¬
ing France, had little leisure to attend to the affairs of
Scotland; and the Scots, divided among themselves,
and destitute of those leaders under whom they had ac-
quired so much glory, could not now annoy their ene-
nbar mics as formerly. The most remarkable transaction
le un- was the siege of the castle of Dunbar, belonging to the
earl of March. The English commander was the earl
English'Salisbury. The earl of March was absent; but his
1.1557, wife, the daughter of Randolph, from her complexion
commonly called Black Agnes, undertook to defend it
in her husband’s absence. The English again employed
that huge machine called a sow, formerly mentioned in
our account of the siege of Berwick: it met with the
same fate now as at that time ; an huge stone, let fall
upon it from the top of the walls, crushed it to pieces.
The English, baffled in every attack, turned the siege
into a blockade ; but Sir Alexander Ramsay having
found means to enter it with 40 resolute men, the gar¬
rison made a sally, and cut in pieces the advanced
guard of the enemy. The English, disheartened by
260 so many misfortunes, abandoned the enterprise.
iloits of In 1338, Sir Andrew Murray the regent died, and
bcit the was succeeded in his office by Robert the Steward of
)'1559 Scotland. In 1339 he reduced the town of Perth and
the castle of Stirling: and gained over to the Scottish
interest William Bullock, governor of the castle of
Coupar: after which, having expelled the enemy from
every post to the northward of the Forth, he employed
himself in settling the affairs of the nation as well as
261 he could.
inburgh In 1341, the castle of Edinburgh was surprised by a
le sur- device of Sir William Bullock. According to his ap-
Winfam P°intment, one Walter Currie of Dundee privately re-
Hock a 1 ceived into his ship the knight of Liddesdale, with Wil-
1.1541. liana Fraser, Joachim of Kinbuck, and 200 resolute men.
Currie cast anchor in Leith road, pretending to be an
English shipmaster, who had a cargo of wine and pro¬
visions, with which he proposed to furnish the command¬
er of the castle. His barrels and hampers were brought
to the castle-gate, and suddenly thrown down in such a
manner as to obstruct the shutting of it. Currie and
262 his men then slew the sentinels : and the knight of Lid-
igDavkl desdale, with a party who lurked in the neighbourhood,
ves in rushed in, overpowered the garrison, and made them-
1 aild’ selves masters of the place.—On the 4th of March this
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
63.3
year, the king and queen arrived from France, and Scotland,
landed at Inverbervie in Kincardineshire. —v—■—1
In 1342, Sir Alexander Ramsay took the strong for- An. 1542.
tress of Roxburgh; for which important service the king
bestowed on him the charge of sheriff of Teviotdale,
at that time held by William Douglas knight of Liddes- 0(,..
dale. The king’s liberality proved fatal to Ramsay ; Miserable
for from that time Douglas became his implacable and end of sir
inveterate enemy; and having, after a pretended recon- Alexander
ciliation, unexpectedly surprised him with three of his
friends, he put them instantly to death, carrying off William
Ramsay himself to his castle of the Hermitage, where Bullock,
he caused him to be starved to death in a most bar¬
barous manner. The unhappy man was confined in a
room, over which was a heap of wheat; a few grains
of which were let fall every day through a hole, not as
many as would support life, but as would protract it for
a time, and make him longer sensible of the agonies of
hunger: and in this miserable situation he survived 17
days. About the same time Sir William Bullock was
put to death by Douglas in a similar manner : nor was
King David at that time in a capacity to punish such
atrocious cruelties committed by so powerful a subject. 264
In the mean time, David having raised a powerful David in¬
army, prepared to take a severe revenge of the English, wades Eng-
from whom he had suffered so much. Edward was at
that time in France, but commanded Baliol to raise all wjth tiiU
the militia beyond the Trent: which order, however, utmost
produced but little effect; so much was this mean- cruelty,
spirited prince despised by the English. David invad¬
ed Northumberland without opposition, and ravaged
the country; but was obliged to raise the siege of New¬
castle, which was commanded by Sir John Nevil, an
excellent officer. David, exasperated at this repulse,
entered the bishopric of Durham, which he ravaged in
the most cruel manner. However, on the approach of
Edward with a powerful army, the Scots thought pro¬
per to retire ; and a two years truce was agreed on. ^
This pacification was but short-lived. In 1345 the other inva-
Scots again prepared to invade England, while Ed- sions.
ward took all necessary measures for opposing them ; An. 1545.
however, this year the Scots were successful, ravaging
Westmoreland, and burning several towns. The year
ended with a new truce between the two nations ; and
hostilities were not renewed till 1346, when David en¬
tered England with an army of 50,000 men. His first
exploit was the taking of the fortress of Liddel, and 2G6
massacring all whom lie found in it. The commander, Monstrous
Sir Walter Selby, capitulated with a Scots knight for cruelty of
his life; but the bargain being disapproved of by Da- Dav'^
vid, he ordered two of Selby’s sons to be strangled in
his presence, and then the father’s head to be cut off.
From thence the Scots marched to Lancroft, which
they plundered ; then passing into Northumberland,
they pillaged the priory of Hexham, but spared the
town, that it might serve as a magazine. Three other
towns, Corbridge, Durham, and Darlington, were
spared for the same reason. In his march to Dur¬
ham, it is said that he would have made the country a
desert, had not some of the monks paid him a contri¬
bution of a thousand pounds to spare their estates :
however, according to Knyghton, every Englishman
who fell into David’s hands was put to death, unless
he could redeem his life by paying threepence.
To put a stop to the cruelties of this barbarous invad-
t 4 L er,
6M SCOT
Scotland. Cr, the queen of England, in her husband’s absence,
assembled a powerful army, which was divided into
four bodies ; the first commanded b}^ Lord Henry
Percy ; the second by the archbishop of York ; the
third by the bishop of Lincoln, the lord Moubray, and
Sir Thomas Rokeby; and the fourth and principal di¬
vision was headed by Edward Raliol The king of
Scotland headed a chosen battalion, composed of the
flower of his nobility, and the auxiliaries with which
he had been supplied by France. The high steward
of Scotland headed the second line ; and the third was
commanded by the earls of Moray and Douglas. While
the English were approaching, Lord Douglas and Sir
David Graham skirmished with them, but were defeat¬
ed with the loss of 500 of their men ; which seemed an
omen of the disaster that was about to ensue. The ge¬
neral engagement began betrceen the archers on both
sides ; but the English being much superior in the use
267 of the bow, the steward of Scotland advanced to the
The battle relief of his countrymen. The English archers, unable
of Durham, t0 bear h;s attack, fell back upon Lord Henry Percy’s
An. lo46. dhiginn, which was thus put in confusion, and would
have been totally defeated, had not Baliol advanced to
their relief with a body of 4000 horse. The steward
was then obliged to retire; by which means the flank
of that division commanded by David, and which was
then engaged with another line of the English, was left
exposed to an attack. Baliol perceived the advantage ;
and, without pursuing the steward, attacked the king’s
268 division, which was speedily cut in pieces or dispers-
The Scots ed. David was left with about 80 noblemen and gen-
defVatecl, tlemen, but still maintained the fight with obstinacy;
mid tbeir nor wou]j pe yield even when wounded in the head
■King taken . , ^ i
prisoner, with an arrow, expecting every moment to be relieved
by the steward and that line of his army which was still
entire under the lords Moray and Douglas. At last
finding himself totally overpowered, he attempted to
retreat, but was overtaken by a party under one John
Copeland. This captain, endeavouring to seize the
king, had two of his teeth struck out by a blow of his
gauntlet; but at last, finding it in vain to resist, the
king wras obliged to give up his sword and surrender
himself a prisoner—After he wars taken, Baliol attack¬
ed and totally routed that division of the Scottish army
which had hitherto remained under the lords Moray
and Douglas. In this battle the Scots lost a great
number of their nobility, and 15,000 common soldiers.
Many persons of the first distinction were also taken
with the king; and had it not been that the escape of
the Scots was favoured by the avarice of the English
soldiers, who neglected the pursuit in order to plunder,
269 scarcely a single soldier would have returned.
Account of King David, after this unfortunate battle, was car-
ried to the castle of Bamborough, where he was kept
b ittle 0 80 much privacy, that for some time it was not
known where he was, or that he had been taken pri¬
soner. As soon as the truth was known, the queen of
England demanded the royal prisoner from Copeland ;
but the latter positively refused to part with him even
to the queen, unless she could produce an order to that
purpose under Edward’s hand and seal. This resolute
behaviour was resented by the queen, and a complaint
made to the king; in consequence of which Copeland
was summoned to appear before Edward, after having
resigned David to the custody of Lord Nevil. The
L A N D.
English monarch, at that time in France, approved of Scotland
all that he had done, rewarded him with 500k a year, -Y"-
and sent him back to England with the honour of
knighthood. David was then escorted by Copeland,
attended, it is said, by 20,000 men, from the castle of
Ogle in Northumberland, till the lord Nevil, by in¬
denture, delivered him into the hands of Sir Thomas
Rokeby sheriff of Yorkshire. In the same pompous
manner he was conducted all the way to London, which
he entered on a black courser. He was received in the
capital with the greatest solemnity by tlie lord mayor
and other magistrates, the city-companies under arms
lining all the streets through which he passed, the
houses loaded with spectators, who expressed a gene¬
rous concern for his captivity. Being arrived at the
Tower, he was delivered, by indenture likewise, to
the custody of the constable, the lord John Darcy, on
the 2d of January 1347. 270
Baliol now, encouraged by the misfortune of his ri- Baliol
val, made an effort once more to establish himself on^kesan-
the throne of Scotland ; and before the end of the year^^^
reduced the castles of Hermitage and Roxburgh, the the crown
forest of Ettrick, the Merse, with the districts of Annan-of Scotlam
dale, Teviotdale, and Tweeddale. The Scots continu- An'154‘
ed faithful to the cause of their king, notwithstanding
his misfortunes, and chose the steward, for the guar¬
dian of the kingdom. He behaved with a prudence
equal to the high station which he filled: but the pro¬
gress of Baliol was so rapid, that it is scarcely probable
he could have maintained his ground, had not Edward
again consented to a truce; which, however, seems to
have been ill observed on the part of the Scots. In
fact, though both Scots and English historians are si¬
lent as to particulars, we find, that about the end of
the year 1348, all Scotland was recovered out of the 27i
hands of the English ; excepting Berwick, Roxburgh, The Scots
Hermitage, and Lanric, which was part of Baliol’s recover riK
hereditary estate, and defended by him with an army.
The Scots historians inform us, that the English, in |.ol!n0tvv,
revenge for the damages done to their country by the An. iS-isJ
breach of the peace, proclaimed a tournament and
other military exercises at Berwick, to which they in¬
vited the Scots ; but in their way thither the latter fell
into an ambuscade, and were all cut in pieces. 272
The years 1349 and 1350 were remarkable only for Scotland
a dreadful plague which invaded Scotland, after having infested
ravaged the continent of Europe. According to For-
dun, one-third of the people of Scotland perished at
this time. The patient’s flesh swelled exceedingly, An. 1349
and he died in two days illness ; but the mortality af- to. 1352.1
fected chiefly the middling and lower ranks of people.
The same dreadful calamity continued throughout the
years 1351 and 1352 ; occasioning a cessation of arms
not only in Scotland, but throughout all Europe.
All this time King David remained a prisoner in Eng¬
land ; for though several treaties had been proposed,
they had hitherto come to nothing, because the English
monarch insisted upon being indemnified for the ravages
which the Scots had committed in his territories. At Terms pn
last it was agreed, that the king of Scotland , should be posed for
immediately set at liberty, on paying 90,000 merks for
his ransom, by equal proportions, within the space ofmonarch.
nine years : That 10,000 merks, being the first propor¬
tion, should be paid at the feast of Candlemas next to
come, the second at Candlemas 1357, and so on till com-
plete.
S C 0 T L A N D.
itland. plete payment should be made of the whole: That, du-
v -v—' ring the said space of nine years, there should be a
truce between the two kingdoms : That 20 Scots gen¬
tlemen, of the best families in the kingdom, should re¬
main m England as hostages and sureties for the said
sum ; and that, if any part thereof was not paid at the
precise time appointed, then David should remain a
prisoner in England till it was paid ; or, if he was de¬
tained by any just cause, that the lord high steward,
the lord Douglas, John of the Isles, and others of the
274 highest rank, should come and supply his place.
, lieno- These terms were rejected by the Scots nobility;
l y, and and in V355, war was recommenced with England, at
i recom-the instigation of France, who sent 40,000 crowns to
i iced. Scotland as a supply for defraying the expenses.
l353' With this sum the guardian, having raised an army,
once more took the field ; but not before the English
had destroyed the Lothians and Duglasdale. A battle
was fought on Nisbit-moor: in which the English be¬
ing drawn into an ambuscade, were totally defeated.
The next attempt of the Scots was against the town
of Berwick, which they designed to surprise by an es-
en by calade. They met, however, with such a vigorous re-
Scots. sistance, that many persons of distinction were killed.
The attack proved successful; but the acquisition was
of no great importance, as the castle still held out.
Edward, in the mean time, hearing of the loss of the
town, hurried back from France to London. Here he
staid but three days, and marched northward to raise
the siege. He reached Durham on the 23d of Decem-
276 ber 1355, where he appointed all his military tenants
takenby to meet him on the 1st of January 1356. On the 14th
of the same month he arrived before Berwick, which
JJ ' was instantly retaken ; but the Scots were allowed to
depart for their own country. The reduction of this
place produced an extraordinary effect: for Baliol now
perceiving that Edward meant not to establish him on
the throne of Scotland, but to retain in his own pos¬
session as many places of that country as he could,
came at last to the resolution of giving up to the king
of England the whole of Scotland. This indeed was
2*77 no more than a form, because at that time he was not
liol re- possessed of the kingdom. However, the ceremony was
ns the performed at Roxburgh; and Baliol presented his
gdomof crown anj gome earth and, stones by way of investi-
\vard.t0 ture- Baliol in return was to have a revenue of 2000
pounds a year; and as Edward was at the head ot an
excellent army, he had little doubt of being able to
force the Scots to submit.
The affairs of Scotland were now in a very critical
situation ; and it was necessary to gain time. For this
reason Edward was amused with a negociation ; and to
this he the more willingly listened, as he was at that
time waiting for his fleet, from which he had great ex-
278 pectations. A little time, however, discovered the
icinakes deceit. The Scots plainly told Edward, that they
nvious wouiti die rather than submit to his demands ; and he,
asioti. return, threatened a most dreadful revenge. His
fleet in the mean time arrived in the frith of Forth;
the mariners destroyed and pillaged all that was with¬
in their reach, without sparing even the sacred edifices,
carrying off the statues of the blessed virgin, loading
the monks with chains, and committing every thing in
those days called impiety and sacrilege. Edward had
by this time marched as far as Haddington, but was
63,5
obliged to receive provisions all the way frbmliis fleet; Scotland,
for the Scots had desolated the country through which
he passed. During his march his army was harassed,
and his foragers cut off, so that he was reduced to dis- 27r)
tress ; and at last his fleet being totally destroyed by'B«t isolilt-
a storm, he was obliged to return to England without ged to rc-
acconiplishing any thing. turn
In the mean time the prince of Wales, who had been pjjslljng
left by his father to carry on the war in France, de- any thing,
feated and took prisoner John king of France at the
battle of Poictiers. In this battle were 3000 Scots,
who had gone over as auxiliaries to the French mo¬
narch, and who suffered extremely. However, the
success of Edward, instead of rendering him haughty,
seemed to have a contrary effect; and, by the media¬
tion of Pope Innocent, a truce for two years was con¬
cluded with France, in which the Scots were compre¬
hended. During this interval, the ransom of the king 280
of Scots was settled at 100,000 merks to be paid in David ob-
ten years ; for which 20 hostages were to be given as[)^r"yhlb ll"
formerly. In consequence of this treaty, David at An. 1558.
last obtained his liberty in 1358 ; and Edward laid a-
side all hopes of ever subduing Scotland. As for Ba¬
liol, he was now sunk in oblivion ; and it is not known
what became of him, or when he died. 281
David, though now restored to liberty, found him-
self greatly embarrassed with the payment of such a pay^neift 1
large sum as had been stipulated for his ransom ; the0f hisran-
kingdom of Scotland being then in a most miserable som.
and exhausted situation. After sending his queen, and
going into England himself, he could obtain no greater
favour than a respite of a few months for the payment
of the second moiety ; so that he was at last constrain¬
ed to ask assistance from France. This could scarce¬
ly be expected in the distressed situation of that king¬
dom ; however, it was at last agreed, that 50,000 merks
should be paid to Scotland, in case the Scots would
consent to renew the war the following year. Neither
party, however, kept their word; and David, being still
greatly distressed about the remainder of his ransom,
at last entered into a very extraordinary negociation
with Edward, by which he consented that the king ot %
England should be his successor to the throne ol Scot¬
land. But this negociation was defeated through the
invincible hatred which the Scots bore to an English
governor. David then, being entirely unable to dis- 282
charge the remainder of his ransom, was obliged to^nUjrsin,°
enter into a new treaty; by which the kingdom of Scot- Ed-
land became indebted to Edward the sum of l'00,000 warti.
pounds sterling, to be paid by equal proportions with¬
in the space of 25 years, during which there should
be a truce between the two nations.
From this time we meet with little more of any mo¬
ment iu the reign of King David, \fter the death of
his queen Johanna, the sister of Edward, he married a
Scots woman, of mean birth, named Margaret Logie ;
but by neither of his wives had he any children. Queen
Margaret he divorced, on what pretence is not known ;
but she left the kingdom, and complained personally to
the pope, who treated her as David’s lawful wife, and 2S;?
enjoined her husband to receive her as such, under the He dies,
most severe penalties. What effect these threats had on and is suc-
the king is not known; but it is certain that Margaret
never returned to Scotland; and, on the 22d of Ft-Su!wart.
bruary 1371, David himself died, leaving the kingdom An. 1571.
4 L 2 to
SCOTLAND.
636
Scotland. |-0 i,;s nephew Robert Stewart, the first of that family
v v-—■ who sat on the throne of Scotland (h).
Some authors tell us, that at the accession of Ro¬
bert II. his title was disputed by William earl of Dou¬
glas. If any such claim was preferred, an assembly of
the states set it aside, and it was resolved that Robert
should be crowned at Scone ; and to take away for
the future all disputes concerning the succession, a
particular act was framed, by which the kingdom was
secured to Robert and his heirs.
The new king being thus established on the throne,
endeavoured to renew the war with the English, in or¬
der to recover from them the town of Berwick, and
some other places on the borders. In this, however,
he failed; and as 56,000 pounds of David’s ransom still
£84 remained unpaid, Robert bound himself to discharge it
Treaty With at t]lc ra^e 0f 4000 merks every midsummer. He then
proposed an alliance with France : but the terms de¬
manded by that kingdom being, that Scotland should
be obliged to make war with England wdienever France
should require it, Robert could not by any means be in¬
duced to consent to such a requisition, which would
have obliged him to break through the most solemn
treaties, whenever the king of France should think pro¬
per to break wTith England. A new treaty, therefore,
was entered into, by which it wras provided, that nei¬
ther Scotland nor France should be obliged to make
war with England; and by another clause, that the dis¬
pensation or authority even of the pope himself should
never free the kings or kingdoms of France and Scot¬
land from the obligations they lay under to assist one
another, as often as required, in opposition to the king¬
dom of England. In case of a competition for the
crown of Scotland, the king of France and his heirs
were to take care that no English influence was used;
but that the matter being by the greatest and best part
of the nation decided conformably to the laws and es¬
tablishments of Scotland, he should with all his power
defend and assist the person so established. Lastly,
it was agreed that no Frenchman should ever hence¬
forth serve for wages, or otherwise, against Scotland,
g85 nor any Scotsman against France.
War be- This last article occasioned a recal of all the Scots
twixt the from the English armies, which Edward looked upon
.Scots and to j.)e a pre]U(je to an invasion. He accordingly issued
tiorderers. writs for assembling all the militia in the north of Eng¬
land. At this time there subsisted between theneighbour-
ing people of both nations an invincible hatred, which
extended not only through the lower ranks, but had per¬
vaded the higher classes also. The inhabitants of the
borders, indeed, paid very little regard to the orders of
their respective sovereigns; so that daily hostilities were
committed by them upon each other when there was
peace between the sovereigns. The inhabitants of these
countries had established with one another certain con¬
ventions, which have since been collected, and go by
the name of the Border-lams. The families of Doug¬
las and Percy, whose estates lay contiguous to one an¬
other, were at perpetual variance. It had been common
for the borderers of both kingdoms, during a truce, to
frequent each other’s fairs ; and a servant of the earl of
March had been killed in a fray at that of Roxburgh, Scotland
which was still in the hands of the English. Justice for v—
this murder was demanded from Lord Percy ; but he
slighted the complaint. On this the earl of March, with
his brother the earl of Moray, assembling their follow¬
ers, entered the next fair that was held in Roxburgh,
plundered and burnt the town, and killed all the Eng¬
lish who fell into their hands. The English borderers
were ordered to lay waste the lands of the earl of March;
but, in their way thither, destroyed the estate of Sir
John Gordon, a man of great property in the south of
Scotland. Sir John in his turn invaded England, from
whence he drove oft' a large booty in cattle, and a num¬
ber of prisoners. In his retreat he was attacked by a
body of fresh troops under Sir John Lisburn, at a place
called Carara. An obstinate encounter followed. The
Scots were five times repulsed; but at last they renewed
the charge with such fury, that they made Lisburn, his
brother, and several other persons of distinction, prison¬
ers, together with all their surviving soldiers. On this
Lord Percy with 7000 men encamped at Duns, in the
south of Scotland ; but was obliged to retire, proba¬
bly for want of subsistence for his army. In the mean
time, Musgrave the governor of Berwick, •who had
been ordered to join Percy with a detachment from
the garrison, was on his march intercepted, defeated,
and taken prisoner by Sir John Gordon; after which
the border war became general on both sides. The
issue of these disturbances is but little known: however,
in 1377, we find them raging with more violence than
ever. The fair of Roxburgh was once more the scene
of action, and the town was again burnt by the Scots.
Lord Percy, who was now earl of Northumberland,
resolved to take signal vengeance. Fie ravaged the
Scots borders, particularly the earl of March’s estate, 286
for three days, at the head of 10,000 men. Some time
after this, the Scots insurgents became powerful enoughretakeI1.
to surprise Berwick; which, however, was quickly re¬
taken by the English, who soon after invaded Scotland.
In this expedition, however, they succeeded so ill, that
Percy thought proper to desist from his expedition.
The Scots in the mean time began hostilities by sea,
under one Mercer, an experienced sailor ; but he had
the misfortune to be taken prisoner by the English,
with all his fleet. In 1379, England w as afflicted with
a dreadful plague, of which the Scots took advantage
to invade the country. The English historians tell us
that they behaved with the utmost barbarity, kill¬
ing and plundering the defenceless inhabitants without
mercy.
This predatory war continued, generally to the dis- An.lSSt
advantage of the English, till the beginning of Novem¬
ber 1380, when a truce was concluded, to continue for
a year ; which, however, related only to the borders.
This truce, like the others, was but very indifferently
observed; so that, in 1383, new negociations were set
on foot; but, in 1384, the war was renewed with great¬
er fury than ever. In the spring, the earls of March
and Douglas took the castle of Lochmaben, and inter¬
cepted a rich convoy which the English were sending
to Roxburgh ; burnt to the ground the castle of Wark,
and
(n) For an account of the origin of the Stewart family, see note (e), p. 61 Oh
SCOTLAND.
itlaml. and committed such devastations in the north of Eng-
i -y—^ land, that several gentlemen offered to resign their
estates to King Richard, because they were not able to
defend them against the Scots. The duke of Lancaster
entered Scotland at the head of an army; but the in¬
habitants had removed every thing valuable, so that he
marched on to Edinburgh without accomplishing any
thing of consequence. On his return, he was harassed
by flying parties of Scots, who destroyed a considerable
number of his men. This year also the French sent a
body of auxiliaries into Scotland. The earls of Nor¬
thumberland and Nottingham entered Scotland with
an army of 10,000 horse and 6000 archers ; but retired,
after having committed some devastations in the south¬
ern counties. The Scots revenged themselves by lay¬
ing waste all the northern part of England to the gates
of Newcastle. Berwick was taken by the Scots, and
soon after surrendered for the sum of 2000 merks. A
truce was then, as usual, concluded ; but in the mean
time King Robert was meditating a most severe blow
2g7 against the English.
] midable The duke of Burgundy having come to the possession
i don of 0f th8 estate of his father-in-law the earl of Flanders,
] ’'cted c^aimec^ th® sovereignty of the town of Ghent; but they
1 e e ’ refused to submit to him, and in this refusal were pro¬
tected by King Richard II. of England. On this the
duke of Burgundy proposed to the French court to in¬
vade England in concert with the Scots.—This being
agreed to, a fleet was fitted out at Sluys ; on board of
which John de Vienne, the French admiral, embarked,
carrying along with him 50,000 pounds in gold, which
the duke of Burgundy advanced in order to be distri¬
buted in Scotland, where the admiral arrived safe with
a considerable reinforcement, together with supplies of
all kinds of military stores. Two thousand auxiliaries,
of whom 500 were men-at-arms, arrived with this fleet;
and 400 suits of complete armour were brought along
with them, in order to be distributed among the brav-
,88 est of the Scots.
1 comes The Scots were for a short time elated with the great
t otiling, attention which had been paid them by the French
king; but, in the mean time, the Flemings having re¬
volted, the French abandoned the Scots to sustain the
whole weight of the English resentment, that they
themselves might employ their arms in Flanders. King
Richard took the field with a more numerous army than
had ever been mustered in England before. Hostilities
were begun by the Scots, who, according to custom,
invaded the northern parts of England, and carried off1
a considerable booty: however, in their retreat, they
were in the utmost danger of being cut off by the duke
of Lancaster, who had been sent with an army to inter¬
cept them. The English army proceeded northwards ;
but could accomplish nothing, on account of the coun¬
try being desolated, till they came to Edinburgh, which
they laid in ashes. Being, however, incessantly haras¬
sed by parties of the enemy, they w'ere obliged to re¬
treat.
Nothing remarkable happened till the year 1388,
when, after a short truce, the war was renewed with
fresh fury. Northumberland and Westmoreland were
ravaged by the earls of Fife and Douglas, and Lord
Nithsdale defeated a body of 3000 English; after which
he formed the plan of invading Ireland, the inhabitants
637
of which had of late been very active against the Scots. Scotland.
In 1388, Douglas obtained permission to raise a body v "■ '■
of forces for this invasion ; and having landed in safety,
defeated the Irish, plundered the town of Carlingford,
and loaded 15 ships with the booty. From thence the
Scots sailed to the isle of Man, which in like manner
was plundered and laid waste; after which they return¬
ed with their booty to Loch Rian in Scotland. 289
Encouraged by this success, Robert determined to England
proceed on a more enlarged plan. Having assembled a two Scots
parliament at Aberdeen, a double invasion of England armies at
was resolved upon. Two armies were raised ; the oneonce-
consisting of 25,000 men, commanded by the earls of 138S*
Menteith and Fife, Douglas lord of Galloway, and
Alexander Lindsay ; the other army, consisting of the
like number, was commanded by the earls of Douglas,
March, Crawford, Moray, the lord high constable of
Scotland, and other persons of distinction. The former
entered Cumberland, and the latter Northumberland,
both which counties they laid waste, and both armies
were to meet within ten miles of Newcastle. The Eng¬
lish were thrown into the greatest consternation. New¬
castle was defended by the earl of Northumberland,
whose age and infirmities rendered him incapable of ta¬
king the field; but his place was abundantly supplied
by his two sons Henry and Ralph, the former of whom
is known in English history by the name of Hotspur.
The town was garrisoned by the flower of the English
nobility and gentry, as well as the inhabitants of the
adjacent countries, who had fled thither for refuge.
Douglas selected 2000 foot and 300 horsemen out of
the two armies, and encamped on the north side of the
town, with a view, according to the Scots historians, of 290
storming it next day. In the mean time, he was dial-
lenged by Hotspur to fight him hand to hand, with twm^Earl
sharp ground spears, in sight of both armies. Douglas Douglas
accepted the challenge, and Percy was unhorsed the and Henry
first encounter, and obliged to take refuge within the Eercy.
portcullis or gate of the town ; from whence Douglas
brought off his antagonist’s lance, with a pennon af¬
fixed to it, and swore in his hearing that he would carry
it into Scotland. Next day Douglas attempted to storm
the town ; but, being repulsed in the attack, he de¬
camped in the night. Percy, breathing furious revenge,
pursued and overtook the Scots at Otterburn. His ar¬
rival was quite unexpected, so that the principal com¬
manders of the Scottish army were sitting down to sup- 251
per unarmed. The soldiers, however, were instantly
prepared for battle; but in the hurry necessarily attend- 'lU'‘ U11’'
ing a surprise of this kind, Douglas forgot to put on his
cuirass. Both leaders encouraged their men by the most
animating speeches; and both parties waited for the rise
of the moon, which happened that night to be unusual¬
ly bright. The battle being joined on the moon’s first
appearance, the Scots began to give ground; but, be¬
ing rallied by Douglas, who fought with a battle-axe,
the English, though greatly superior in number, were 393
totally routed. Twelve hundred were killed on the The Eng-
spot ; and 100 persons of distinction, among whom were ‘Lfbat-
the two Percies, were made prisoners by Keith ma-^j"^^
rischal of Scotland. On the side of the Scots, the gjas killed,
greatest loss was that of the brave Earl Douglas, who "
was killed in consequence of going to battle without
his armour, as above related. It was this single com¬
bat
038
Scotland.
w.-V—*-*
293
Robert I T
dies, and
is succeed¬
ed by Ro¬
bert 111.
An. 1590.
S C 0 T L A N D.
bat between Douglas and Percy, and the subsequent
battle, which gave rise to the celebrated ballad of Chevy
■Chaco.
In the mean time the bishop of Durham was march¬
ing towards Newcastle with an army of 10,000 men ;
but was informed by the runaways of Percy’s defeat,
which happened on the 21st of July 1388. In a coun¬
cil of war it was resolved to pursue the Scots, whom
they hoped easily to vanquish, as being wrearied with
the battle of the preceding day, and laden with plunder.
The earl of Moray, who commanded in chief, having
called a consultation of his officers, resolved to venture
a battle. The prisoners were almost as numerous as the
whole Scots army ; Jurwever, the generals required no
more of them than their words of honour that they
should continue inactive during the battle, and remain
prisoners still. This condition being complied with,
the Scots drew out their army for battle.—Their rear
was secured by marshes, and their flanks by large trees
which they had felled. In short, their appearance was
so formidable, that the English, dreading to encounter
a resolute enemy so strongly secured, retired to New¬
castle, leaving the Scots at liberty to continue their
march to their own country.
Robert being now oppressed with age, so that he could
no longer endure the fatigues of government, the admi¬
nistration of affairs-devolved on his second son the earl
of Fife ; for his eldest son wras by nature indolent, and
besides lame by an unlucky blow he had received from
a horse. Early in the spring of 1389, he invaded Eng¬
land with success : but the same year a truce was con¬
cluded, to last from the 19th of June f 389 to the 16th
of August 1392 ; in which the allies of both crowns
were included. This truce was violently opposed by
the nobility, who suspected their king of being too much
under French influence. Upon this the court of France
thought proper to send over ambassadors to persuade
the nobility to comply ; informing them, that in case of
a refusal, they could expect no assistance either of men
or money from the continent. With difficulty they
prevailed, and peace between England and Scotland
was once more restored. Scarcely, however, was this
truce finished, when the peace of the nation was most
scandalously violated by Robert’s fourth son Alexander,
the earl of Buchan, commonly called the zvo// of Linde-
nock, from his savage disposition. This prince having
a quarrel with the bishop of Murray, burnt the fine ca¬
thedral of Elgin, which has been called by historians
the lanthorn and ornament of the north of Scotland.
The king for this crime caused his son to be imprison¬
ed ; and a civil war would have been the consequence,
had it not been for the veneration which the Scots re¬
tained for their old king. However, they did not long
. enjoy their beloved monarch ; for he died on the 19th
of April 1390, in the 75th year of his age, and the 19th
' of his reign.
On the death of Robert II. the crown devolved upon
his eldest son John ; but the name being thought un¬
lucky in Scotland, he changed it for that of Robert,
though he was still called by the commonalty Robert
John Femzier. He had been married to Annabella
the daughter of Sir John Drummond, ancestor to the
noble family of Perth ; and was crowned along with his
consort at Scone, on the 13th of August 1390. He
confirmed the truce which had been entered into with
England, and renewed the league with France ; but Scotland,
the beginning of his reign was disturbed by the wars of' r—
the petty chieftains w ith each other. Duncan Stewart, , 291
son to Alexander earl of Buchan, who had died in pri-
son for burning the cathedral of Elgin, assembling his0f Buchai
followers under pretence of revenging his father’s death,
laid waste the county of Angus. Walter Ogilvy, the
sheriff of Angus, attempting to repel the invaders, was
killed, with his brother and 60 of their followers. The
king then gave a commission to the earl of Crawford to
suppress them ; which he soon did, and most of them
were either killed or executed. The followers of the
earl of Buchan were composed of the wildest Highland- 295
ers, distinguished by the title of Catterenes, which an* Account c
swers to that of banditti. That such a race of peoplethe Catte‘
existed is certain from the records of Scotland ; but it is
not easy to determine how they obtained their subsist¬
ence, being void of the knowledge of agriculture and of
every civil art. There is some reason to believe that
many of them came from the Western isles ; and that
they or their ancestors had emigrated from the eastern
parts of Ireland. The lands which they inhabited were
never cultivated till towards the middle of the 17th
century; and, according to the most authentic ac¬
counts, they lived entirely upon animal food.
The earl pf Crawford’s success against the followers
of Buchan encouraged Robert to intrust him with a
commission for subduing other insurgents by whom the 0f)6
peace of the country was disturbed. The most remark* Battle be*
able of these were the Clan Chattan and Clan Kai/. As tween the
both these tribes were numerous and brave, Crawford
was not without apprehensions that they might unite Qlatta”'
against him as a common enemy, and defeat him if he and clan
attempted to suppress them by force. He proposed, Kay.
therefore, that the two rival clans should each choose 30
men, to determine their differences by the sword, with¬
out being allowed the use of any other weapon. The
king and his nobility were to be spectators of the com¬
bat ; the conquered clan were to he pardoned for all
their former offences, and the conquerors honoured with
the royal favour. This proposal was readily accepted
by both parties, and the north inch of Perth was to be
the scene of action. But, upon mustering the com¬
batants, it was found that one of them, belonging to
the clan Chattan, had absented himself. It was pro¬
posed to balance this difference by withdrawing one of
the combatants from the clan Kay ; but not one of
them could be prevailed on to resign his place. At
last one Henry Wynd, a saddler, though no way con¬
nected with either party, offered to supply the place of
him that was absent, on condition of his receiving a
French crown of gold (about 7s. 6d. of our money) ;
which was immediately paid him. The combat then
began with incredible fury ; but at last, through the su¬
perior valour and skill of Henry Wynd, victory declar¬
ed in favour of the clan Chattan. Only ten of the
conquerors, besides Wynd, were left alive; and all of
them desperately wounded. Of the clan Kay only one
remained; and he having received no hurt escaped by
swimming across the Tay.
While these internal broils were going;on, the truce
which had lately been concluded with England was so
ill observed, that it became necessary to enter into fresh
negociations. These, like others which had taken place
before, had very little effect. The borderers on both
sides
S C O T L A N” D .
63®
)tland.
1400.
298
rcenary
I aviour
1 iobert
'regard
: 'is son’s
nage.
299
; 1 of
: rch
! 'Hs.
sides had been so accustomed to ravage and plunder,
that they could not live in quiet. King Kobert also
was thought to be too much attached to the king of
England. He had introduced the new title of duke,
which he bestowed first on the prince royal, whom he
created duke of Rothesay; but. making an offer of that
honour to one of the heads of the Douglas family, it
was rejected with disdain. That powerful family had
never lost sight of an ancient claim they had upon the
castle of Roxburgh, which was still in the possession of
the English ; and this year the son of the earl of Dou¬
glas, Sir William Stewart, and others, broke down the
bridge of Roxburgh, plundered the town, and destroy¬
ed the forage and corn there and in the neighbouring
country. The English applied for satisfaction ; but
obtained none, as the confusion which involved the
kingdom by the deposition of Richard II. and the ac¬
cession of Henry IV. prevented them from having re¬
course to arms, the only argument to which the Scots
patriots in those days would listen.
No sooner was the catastrophe of Richard known in
Scotland than they resolved to avail themselves of it;
and invading the north parts of England, demolished the
castle of Wark, and laid the neighbouring country under
contribution. The situation of Henry’s affairs did not
admit of his resenting this insult. He contented him¬
self with nominating the earl of Westmoreland, to treat
with the Scots about a truce or peace ; or, if that could
not be obtained, to make a mutual agreement, that
the towns of Dumfries in Scotland, and Penrith in Eng¬
land, should be free from hostilities during the war.
To this proposal the Scots paid no regard ; and being
encouraged by the court of France, who resented the
deposition of Richard, they renewed their ravages in
England. In 1400, the king of England called a par¬
liament, in order to consult on the most proper means
of repelling the Scottish invasions; and in this he was
greatly assisted by the divisions of the Scots among
themselves. The duke of Rothesay, the heir apparent
of the crown, was now grown up to man’s estate, and
it was thought proper to provide a suitable consort for
him. The king is said to have scandalously put up his
son’s marriage at auction, and offered him to the lady
whose father could give him the highest price. The
earl of March was the highest bidder ; and advanced a
considerable sum in ready money, on condition that his
daughter should become the royal bride.—This sordid
match wras opposed by Douglas, who proposed his own
daughter the lady Margery. So degenerate was the
court of Scotland at this time, that neither the king nor
the duke of Rothesay opposed this proposal of a new
match, because it was to be purchased with a fresh sum;
and they even refused to indemnify the earl of March
for the money he had already advanced.
As the duke of Albany sided with Douglas, a coun¬
cil of the nobility was privately assembled, which an¬
nulled the contract of the Lady Elizabeth Dunbar,
the earl of March’s daughter, in favour of the lady
Margery, daughter to the earl of Douglas ; but with¬
out taking any measures for repaying the money to the
earl of March. The continuator of Fordun informs
us, that the earl of Douglas paid a larger sum for his
daughter’s fortune than that which had been advanced
by the earl of March, and that the earl of Douglas’s
daughter wTas married to the duke of Rothesay : that
before the marriage was celebrated, March demanded Scotland,
that the money he had advanced should be reimbursed;'——v
but receiving an unsatisfactory answer, he declared, that
as the king had not fulfilled his bargain, he would bring,
unexpected calamities upon the country. Accordingly,
he fled into England, leaving his castle of Dunbar to>
the custody of his nephew Robert Maitland, who soon
after put it into the hands of the earl of Douglas, call¬
ed in history Archibald the Grim, from the sternness of
his visage.
As soon as Robert heard of the revolt of the earl
of March, he sent ambassadors demanding back his
subject; but the request was disregarded. On the
other hand, the earl of March demanded repossession
of the castle of Dunbar, pleading, that he had com¬
mitted no act of treason, but had come to England
under a safe-conduct from king Henry, on purpose to
negociate his private affairs: but this request was. dis¬
regarded ; on which he sent for all his family and fol¬
lowers to England, where they joined him in great
numbers. This produced a war between the two king- 500
doms. The earl of March, with Henry Percy sur-Invasion of
named Hotspur; invaded Scotland, penetrating as far Scotland
as Haddington, and carrying off great numbers of the
inhabitants into captivity. Thence they went to
Peebles, and then to Linton, ravaging the country as
they passed along. They next besieged the castle of
Hales, and took several of the neighbouring forts ; but
Archibald the Grim, or rather his son, having raised an
army against them, they were struck with terror, and
fled to Berwick, to the gates of which they were pur¬
sued by the Scots. At this time the Scottish admiral,
Sir Robert Logan, was at sea with-a-squadron.; but
miscarried in an attempt Ire made on some English
ships of war that protected their fleet while fishing on
the coast of Scotland. After this the English plun¬
dered the, Orkney islands ; which, though belonging to
the crown of Norway, were at that time governed, or
rather farmed, by Sinclair the Scots earl of Orkney
and Caithness.
All this time the earl of March continued under the
protection of the king of England. Fie had received
repeated invitations to return to his allegiance ; but
all of them being rejected, he was proclaimed a traitor ;
and the Scottish governor made a formal demand of
him from King Henry. With this the latter not only,
refused to comply, but renewed his league with the
lord of the isles. He pretended also, that at. this time
he had intercepted some letters from the Scottish re¬
gency, which called him “ a traitor in the highest de¬
gree ; ” and he alleged this- as a reason why he pro¬
tected not only the earl of March, but the lord of the
isles.
On the 25th of July 1400, the earl of March re¬
nounced his homage, fealty, and service, to the king of
Scotland, and transferred them to Henry by a formal
indenture.. For this the earl was rewarded with a pen¬
sion of 500 merks sterling, and the manor of Ciipestone ^
in Sherwood forest. Henry now began to revive the Heni v' IW
claim of homage from the kings of Scotland, and even projects the
to meditate the conquest of the kingdom. He had in-conquest ofv
deed many reasons to hope for success ; the principal of !,collaU<ii,“
which Avere, the weakness of the Scottish government,
the divided state of the royal family, and the dissensions
among the chief nobility. For this purpose he made
great..
640 - SCO T
Scotland, great preparations botli by sea and land; but before be
t——V”—■ gCt out on liis journey, he received a letter from the
duke of Rothesay, full of reproaches on account of
the presumptuous letters which Henry had addressed
to Robert and his nobility. The letter was addressed by
the duke to his adversary of England, as the Scots had
not yet recognised the title of Henry to the crown of
England. Towards the end of it the duke, according
to the custom of the times, desired Henry, in order to
avoid the effusion of Christian blood, to fight him in
person with two, three, or a hundred noblemen on a
side. But this challenge produced no other answer
from Henry, than that “ he was surprised that the duke
of Rothesay should consider noble blood as not being
Christian, since he desired the effusion of the one, and
not of the other. ” Henry arrived at Leith on the
very day on which he had appointed the Scottish no¬
bility to meet him and pay their homage, and conclude
a peace between the two crowns. In all probability,^
he expected to have been joined by great numbers of
the discontented Scots; and he flattered the English
with a promise of raising the power and glory of their
country to a higher pitch than it had ever yet known.
Under this pretext, he seized on the sum of 350,000
pounds in ready money, besides as much in plate and
jewels, which had been left by Richard in the royal
treasury. He raised also vast contributions on the clergy
and nobility, and on the principal towns and cities. At
last, finding that neither his vast preparations, nor the
interest of the earl of March, had brought any of the
Scots to his standard, he laid siege to Edinburgh
castle, which was defended by the duke of Rothesay,
and, as some say, by the earl of Douglas. The duke of
Albany, brother to King Robert, was then in the field
with an army, and sent a letter to King Henry, pro¬
mising, that if he would remain where he was for six
days, he w ould give him battle, and force him to raise
the siege, or lose his life. When this was written, the
duke was at Calder muir ; and Henry was so much
pleased with the letter, that he presented the herald
who delivered it with his upper garment, and a chain
of gold; promising, on his royal word, that he would
remain where he was until the appointed day. On this
occasion, however, the duke forfeited his honour; for
he suffered six days to elapse without making any at¬
tempt on the English army.
Henry, in the mean time, pushed on the siege of E-
dinburgh castle ; but met with such a vigorous resist¬
ance from the duke of Rothesay, that the hopes of re¬
ducing it w'ere but small. At the same time he wTas
~ )0 informed that the Welsh were on the point of rebellion
But fails under the famous chieftain Given Glendovcer. He
in his at- knew also that many of the English wrere highly dissa-
ttmpt. tisfied with his title to the crown; and that he owed
his peaceable possession of it to the moderation of
Mortimer, also called the earl of March, who was the
real heir to the unfortunate Richard, but a nobleman
of no ambition. For these reasons he concluded it
best to raise the siege of Edinburgh castle, and return
to England. He then agreed to a truce for six weeks,
but which was afterwards prolonged, probably for a
year, by the commissioners of the twro crowns, who
met at Kelso.
In 1401, Scotland suffered a great loss by the death
of falter Trail, the archbishop of St Andrew’s, a most
L a N D.
exemplary patriot, and a person of great influence. Ar- Scotland
chibald Douglas the Grim had died some time before,v r—-
and his loss was now severely felt; for the king himself,
naturally feeble, and now quite disabled by age and
infirmities, was sequestered from the world in such a
manner, that we know not even the place of his resi¬
dence during the last invasion of Scotland by the Eng¬
lish. This year also Queen Annabella died, so that
none remained who were able to heal those divisions
which prevailed among the royal family. Robert duke
of Albany, a man of great ambition, was an enemy to
the duke of Rothesay, the heir-apparent to the crown ;
and endeavoured, for obvious reasons, to impress his
father with a bad opinion of him. This prince, however,
appears to have been chargeable with no misdemeanour
of any consequence, except his having debauched,
under promise of marriage, the daughter of William
Lindsay of Rossy. But this is not supported by any
credible evidence; and, though it had been true, could
never have justified the horrid treatment he met with,
and which we are now to relate. -()3
One Ramorgny, a man of the vilest principles, but Conspirac
an attendant on the duke of Rothesay, had won hisaSainstth
confidence; and, perceiving how much he resented the J?ll^e ot,
conduct of his uncle the duke of Albany, had the vil- 0t eSa'’
lany to suggest to the prince the despatching him by as¬
sassination. The prince rejected this infamous propo¬
sal with such horror and displeasure, that the villain be¬
ing afraid he would disclose it to the duke of Albany,
informed the latter, under the seal of the most inviolable
secrecy, that the prince intended to murder him; on
which the duke, and William Lindsay of Rossy his
associate in the treason, resolved on the prince’s death.
By practising on the doating king, Lindsay and Ra-
morgny obtained a writ directed to the duke of Alba¬
ny, impowering him to arrest his son, and to keep him
under restraint, in order for his amendment. The same
traitors had previously possessed the prince with an
apprehension that his life was in danger, and had per¬
suaded him to seize the castle of St Andrew’s, and
keep possession of it during the vacancy of that see.
Robert had nominated one of his bastard brethren, who
was then deacon of St Andrew’s, to that bishopric :
but being a person no way fitted for such a dignity,
he declined the honour, and the chapter refused to
elect any other during his lifetime ; so that the prince
had a- prospect of possessing the castle for some time.
He was riding thither with a small attendance, when
he was arrested between the towns of Nidi and Stra-
tirum (according to the continuator of Fordun), and
hurried to the very castle of which he was preparing
to take possession.
The duke of Albany, and the earl of Douglas, who
was likewise the prince’s enemy, were then at Culross,
waiting the event of their detestable conspiracy; of
which they were no sooner informed, than they order¬
ed a strong body of ruffians to carry the royal captive
from the castle of St Andrew’s; which they did, after
clothing him in a russet cloak, mounting him on a very
sorry horse, and committing him to the custody of two -04
execrable wretches, John Selkirk and John Wright, who who is
were ordered by the duke of Albany to starve him to starved t(Jj
death. According to Buchanan, his fate was for somelleal1''
time prolonged by the compassion of one of his keeper’s
daughters, who thrust thin oaten cakes through tire
chinks
I
SCOT
Notknd. chinks of his prison-walls, and by a woman who, be-
nr—Mng a wet nurse, found means to convey part of her
milk to him through a small tube. Both these chari¬
table females were detected, and put to death ; the
young lady’s inhuman father being himself the prosecu¬
tor. The prince himself died in a few days after, on
Easter-eve, his hunger having impelled him to devour
part of his own flesh.
In the mean time, Robert, being yet ignorant of
the murder of his son, had renewed, or rather con¬
sented to renew, hostilities with England. On the ex¬
piration of the truce, Henry had sent a commission to
the earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, to of¬
fer the Scots any terms they could reasonably desire ;
but every olfer of this kind being rejected, there was
a necessity for renewing hostilities. The earl of March
had received another pension from Henry, on condi¬
tion of his keeping on foot a certain number of light
troops to act against the Scots. This had been done ;
and so effectually did these now annoy their enemies,
that the earl of Douglas was obliged to take the field
against them. By dividing his men into small parties,
he repressed the depredations of these invaders; and
Thomas Haliburton, the commander of one of the
Scottish parties, made incursions into England as far
505 as Bamborough, from whence he returned with a con-
. >ody of siderable booty. This encouraged another chieftain,
is cut Patrick Hepburn, to make a similar attempt: but be-
■IishC elated with his success, he remained too long in
the enemy’s country; so that the earl of March had
time to send a detachment to intercept him on his re¬
turn. This produced a desperate encounter, in which
Hepburn was killed; the flower of the youth of Lothi¬
an, who had attended in this expedition, were cut off;
and scarcely a single Scotsman remained umvounded.
On the news of this disaster, the earl of Douglas
applied to the duke of Albany for assistance. He was
immediatelyfm-nishedwith a considerable army; accord¬
ing to some, consisting of 10,000 ; according to others
of 13,000; and according to the English historians, of
20,000 men. Murdoc, the son of the duke, attended
the earl on this expedition, as did also the earls of Mo¬
ray, Angus, Orkney, and many others of the chief no¬
bility, with 80 knights. The Scots on this occasion
conducted themselves with the same imprudence as be-
cir^le ^ore' Having penetrated too far into the country, they
St at Ho- were intercepted by the English on their return, and
Idon. obliged to engage at a place called Homeldon, under
K1402. great disadvantages. The consequence was, that they
were utterly defeated, and almost the whole army ei¬
ther killed or taken.
Henry Hotspur, to whom chiefly this victory was ow¬
ing, resolving to pursue the advantage he had gained,
entered the southern parts of the kingdom, and laid
j y’7 siege to a castle called Cocklaivi/s, on the borders ofTe-
I tie be5 8 viotdale. The castle was for some time bravely defend-
j;edby ed : but at last the governor entered into a treaty, by
English, which he agreed to deliver up the castle, in case it
was not relieved by the king or governor in six weeks;
during which time no additional fortifications were to
be made. But while the English were retiring, one of
Percy’s soldiers pretended that the Scots had broken the
capitulation, by introducing a mattock into the place.
The governor, hearing of this charge, offered to fight
any Englishman who should engage to make it good.
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
L A N D. 641
A champion was accordingly singled out, but was de- Scotland,
feated by the Scotsman ; and the English army retir-——v——*
ed according to agreement. The matter then being
debated in the Scotish council, it was resolved to send
relief to the castle. Accordingly the Duke of Alba¬
ny, with a powerful army, set out for the place ; but
before he came there, certain news were received of
the defeat and death of Hotspur, at Shrewsbury, as
related under the article England, N° 182.
In the year 14-01, King Henry, exceedingly desir-An. 1404.
ous of a peace with Scotland, renewed his negociations
for that purpose. These, however, not being attended
with success, hostilities were still continued, but with¬
out any remarkable transaction on either side. In the
mean time, King Robert was informed of the miserable
fate of his eldest son the duke of Rothesay; but was
unable to resent it by executing justice on such a SOS
powerful murderer. After giving himself up to grief, ^ ^
therefore, for some time, he resolved to provide for the
safety of his second son James, by sending him into to France,
France. This scheme was not communicated to thetmt is taken
duke of Albany ; and the young prince took shipping^|he
with all imaginable secrecy at the Bass, under the care ’
of the earl of Orkney. On his voyage he was taken
by an English privateer off Flamborough-head, and
brought before Henry. The English monarch having
examined the attendants of the prince, they told him
that they were carrying the prince to France for his
education. “ I understand the French tongue (replied
Henry), and your countrymen ought to have been
kind enough to have trusted me with their prince’s
education. ” He then committed the prince and his
attendants close prisoners to the Tower of London.
The news of this disaster arrived at the castle of Rothe¬
say in the isle of Bute (the place of Robert’s resi- 5og
dence) while the king was at supper. The news threw Robert dies
him into such an agony of grief, that he died in three of grief. ^
days, the 29th of March 14-05, after having reignedAn-1405-
nearly 15 years. 310
By the death of Robert, and the captivity of theT^thA6
prince, all the regal power devolved on the duke of Al-°eo,ent‘uiy
bany, who was appointed regent by a convention of the 0
states assembled at Scone. The allegiance of the peo¬
ple, however, to their captive prince could not be
shaken ; so that the regent was obliged to raise an army
for the purpose of rescuing him. Henry summoned all
his military tenants, and made great preparations : but,
having agreed to treat of a final peace with Ireland
and the lord of the Isles, the regent laid hold of this
as a pretence for entering into a new negociation with
the English monarch ; and a truce was concluded for a
year, during which time all differences were to be set¬
tled. In consequence of this agreement, Rothesay,
king at arms, w as appointed commissary-general for the
king and kingdom of Scotland; and in that quality
repaired to the court of England. At the time when
the prince of Scotland was taken, it seems there ex¬
isted a truce, however ill observed on both sides, sub¬
sisting between the two nations. Rothesay produced
the record of this truce, which provided that the Scots
should have a free navigation ; and in consequence of
this, he demanded justice of the captain and crew of the
privateer who had taken the prince. Henry order¬
ed the matter to be inquired into: but the English
brought their complaints as w^ell as the Scots ; and the
f 4 M claims
612 SCO T L
Scotland. c]aims of botli wore so intricate, that the examination
'-—v——' fe]j t0 ^}1C ground, but at the same time the truce was
<a.c °11 f Pro^ onged.
IlcnrytS° ^ enc^ year 1109, or the beginning of
against 1410, the war was renewed with England, and Henry
Scotland, prepared to strike a. fatal blow which be had long me-
Au. Hio. dilated against Scotland. He had, as we have seen,
entered into a league with the lord of the Isles, where
a considerable revolution then happened. Walter Les-
ly had succeeded to the estate and honours of the earl
of iloss, in right of his wife, who was the heir. By that
marriage he had a son named Alexander, who succeed¬
ed him ; and a daughter, Margaret, who was married
to the lord of the Isles. This Alexander had married
one of the regent’s daughters ; and dying young, he
left behind him an only daughter, Euphane, who was
deformed, and became a nun at North Berwick. Her
grandfather, the regent, procured from her a resigna¬
tion of the earldom of Ross, to which she was undoubt¬
ed heir, in favour of John earl of Buchan, but in pre¬
judice of Donald lord of the Isles, who was the son of
Margaret, sister to the earl Alexander, and consequent¬
ly the nearest heir to the estate after the nun. Donald
applied for redress ; but his suit being rejected, Ire,
with his brother John, fled into England, where he was
most graciously received by King Henry. According
to the instructions given him by the English monarch,
Donald returned to his own dominions in the Isles,
where he raised an army, and, passing over into Iloss-
shire, violently seized on the estate in dispute. In a
short time he found himself at the head of 10,000 Highr
landers ; with whom lie marched into the province of
Moray, and from thence to Strathbogie and Garioch,
which he laid under contribution. Advancing towards
Aberdeen, with a view to pay his troops with the plun¬
der of that city, which wras then a place of consider¬
able trade, he was met by the earl of Marr, whom the
regent had employed to command against him, at a
village called Harlatv, in the neighbourhood of Aber¬
deen. A fierce engagement ensued, in which great
numbers were killed on both sides, and the victory re¬
mained uncertain : but Donald, finding himself in the
midst of an enemy^s country, w here he could raise no
recruits, began to retreat next day; and the shattered
state of the royal army preventing him from being
pursued, he escaped to his own dominions, where in
a short time he submitted, and swore allegiance to the
crown of Scotland.
In the mean time, Henry continued the war with
Scotland, and refused to renew the truce, though fre¬
quently solicited by the Scots. He had now, how-
, sustained a great loss by the defection of the
March* re-* eai’l of March, who had gone, over to the Scots, though
turns to his the historians have not informed us of his quarrel witli
allegiance the English monarch. On his return to Scotland, he
had been fully reconciled to the Douglas family, and
now strove to distinguish himself in the cause of his
epuntry. This, with- the countenance shown the Scots
by the covq't of France, a bull published by the pope
in their.favour, and the vigorous behaviour of the re¬
gent himself, contributed to reduce Henry to reason ;
and we hea^'of no more hostilities between the two
nations till after the death of the English monarch,,
which happened in the year 1413.
In 1415, the truce being either broken or. expired,.
512
Battle of
l|arlaw.
315
The earl of
t<j Scot
kind.
Ay.. U15,
A N 1).
the Scots made great preparations for besieging Ber- Scot!at;£
wick. The undertaking, however, came to nothing ; —<—^
all that was done during the campaign being the burn¬
ing of Penrith by the Scots, and of Dumfries by the
English. Next year a truce was agreed on, and a
treaty entered into for the ransom of king James ;
which was so far advanced, that the English king a-
greed to his visiting Scotland, provided he engaged to
forfeit 100,000 pounds sterling, in case of his failure 514
to return by a certain day. For reasons now un-Unsuccess-
known, this treaty was broken off, and vast prepara-ful exPctli*
tions were made for a new invasion of Scotland;
which, however, was executed with so little success,
that it became known among the common people of
Scotland by the name of the Jide raid, or the foolish
expedition.
In 1420, died Robert Duke of Albany, regent of An. H20.
Scotland, at the age of 80 ; and such was the venera¬
tion which the Scots had for his memory, that his post
of regent was conferred upon his eldest son Murdoch,
though a person noway qualified for that station.—
The war with England was now discontinued ; but in
France Flenry met with the greatest opposition from
the Scots auxiliaries, insomuch, that at last he pro¬
claimed all the Scots in the service of the dauphin to
be rebels against their lawful sovereign, and threaten¬
ed to treat them as such wherever he found them. It ,515
was not long before he had an opportunity of putting
this menace in execution; for the town and castle of’iu France..
Melun being obliged through famine to capitulate,
one of the articles of capitulation was, that all the
English and Scots in the place should be resigned to
the absolute disposal of the king of England; and, in
consequence of his resolution above mentioned, caused
twenty Scots soldiers who were, found in the place to
be hanged as traitors. In 1421, Henry returned to
England, and with him James the Scots king. On his
arrival there, he was informed that the Scots, under
the earl of Douglas, had made an irruption into Eng¬
land, where they had burned Newark, but had been
forced to return to their own country by a pestilence,,
though a new invasion was daily, expected. Instead of
resenting this insult, Henry invited the earl of Dou¬
glas to a conference at York ; in which the latter a-
greed to serve him during life, by sea and land, abroad
or at home, against all living, except his own liege-lord
tire king of Scotland, with 200 foot, and as many horse,
at his own charges; the king of England, in the mean
time, allowing an annual revenue of 200/. for paying his
expense in going to the army by sea or land..
At the same time, a new negociation was set on foot
for the ransom of king James; but he did not obtain
his liberty till the year 1424. Henry V. was then dead 1
and none of his generals being able to supply his place,
the English power in France began to decline. They oW
then became sensible how necessary it was to be at peace Treaty for
with Scotland, in order to detach such a formidable ally
from the French interest. James was now highly ca¬
ressed, and at his own liberty, within certain hounds.
The English even consulted him about the manner of
conducting the treaty for his ransom ; and one Dougal,
Drummond a priest, was sent with a safe-conduct for
the bishop of Glasgow chancellor of Scotland, Dunbar,
earl of March, John Montgomery of Ardrossan, Sir ’
Patrick. Dunbar of Bele, Sir Robert Lawder of Ed-
ringtQn,:>
SCOTLAND.
m
o
■otlaml. rington, Sir Williap.n Bortlnvic of Borthvvic, and Sir
John Forrester of Corstorphin, to have an interview, at
Pomfret, with their master the captive king of Scotland,
and there to treat respecting their common interests.
Most of these noblemen and gentlemen had before been
nominated to treat with the English about their king’s
return ; and Donga! Drummond seems to have been a
domestic favourite with James. Hitherto the Scottish
Ping had been allowed an annual revenue of 700/.: but
while he was making ready for his journey, his equi¬
pages and attendants were increased to those befitting a
sovereign ; and he received a present from the English
treasury of 100/. for his private expenses. That he
might appear with a grandeur every way suitable to
Ids dignity,at every stage were provided relays of horses,
and all manner of fish, flesh, and fowl, with cooks and
other servants for furnishing out the most sumptuous
royal entertainment. In this meeting at Pomfret, James
acted as a kind of mediator between the English and
his own subjects, to whom he fully laid himself open ;
but, in the mean time, the English regency issued a
commission for settling the terms upon which James was
to be restored, if he and his commissioners should lay a
proper foundation for such a treaty. The English com¬
missioners were, the bishops of Durham and Worcester,
the earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, the
lords Nevil, Cornwal, and Chaworth, with master John
Wodeham, and Robert Waterton. The instructions
they received, form one of the most curious passages of
this history; and.we shall here give them, as they are
necessary for confirming all we have said concerning the
dispositions of the two courts at this juncture.
First, To make a faint opposition to any private con¬
ference" between the king of Scotland and the Scotch
, commissioners.
Secondly, To demand that, before the said king shall
have his full liberty, the kingdom of Scotland should
pay to the English government at least thirty-six thou¬
sand pounds as an equivalent, at two thousand pounds a
year, for the entertainment of King James, who was
maintained by the court of England, and not to abate
any thing of that sum; but if possible to get forty thou¬
sand pounds.
Thirdly, That if the Scots should agree to the pay¬
ment of the said sum, the English commissioners should
take sufficient security and hostages for the payment of
the same; and that if they should not (as there was
great reason for believing they would) be so far molli¬
fied, by such easy terms, as to offer to enter upon a ne-
gociation for a final and perpetual peace between the
two people, that then the English should propose the
same in the most handsome manner they could. Far¬
ther, that if such difficulties should arise as might make
it impracticable immediately to conclude such perpe¬
tual peace, that the English ambassadors should, un¬
der pretence of paving a w ay for the same, propose a
long truce.
Fourthly, That if the English commissioners should
succeed in bringing the Scots to agree to the said truce,
they should further urge, that they should not send to
Charles of France, or to any of the enemies of Eng¬
land, any succours by sea or land. Farther, that the
said English commissioners should employ their utmost
endeavours to procure the recal of the troops already
furnished by the Scots to France. The English are
I
commanded to insist very stVenubusly upon this point, Scot'amt.
but with discretion. w—
Fifthly, If the Scots should, as a further bond of
amity between the two nations, propose a marriage be¬
tween their king and some noblewoman of England,
the English commissioners are to make answer, “ That
the king of Scots is well acquainted with many noble¬
women, and even those of the blood-royal, in England;
and that if the king of the Scots shall please to open
his mind more freely on that head, the English com¬
missioners shall be very ready to enter upon confer¬
ences thereupon. ” But (continues the record) in case
the Scotch commissioners should make no mention of
any such alliance by marriage, it will not appear de¬
cent for the English to mention the same, because the
women of England, at least the noblewomen, are not
used to offer themselves in marriage to men.
Sixthly, If there should be any mention made con¬
cerning reparation of damages, that the commissioners
should then proceed upon the same as they should think
most proper ; and that they should have power to offer
safe-conduct to as many of the Scots as should be de¬
manded, for to repair to the court of England. Those
instructions are dated at Westminster, July 6th 1423.
Nothing definitive was concluded at this treaty, but
that another meeting should be held at York instead of
Pomfret. Tiiis meeting accordingly took place. The
English commissioners were, Thomas bishop of Dur¬
ham, chancellor of England, Philip bishop of Win¬
chester, Henry Percy earl of Northumberland, and
Mr John Wodeham. Those for Scotland were, Wil¬
liam bishop of Glasgow, George earl of March, James
Douglas of Baiveny, hisbrother Patrick abbot of Cam-
buskenneth, John abbot of Balmerino, Sir Patrick
Dunbar of Bele, Sir Robert Lauder of Edrington,
George Borthwic archdeacon of Glasgow, and Patrick
Houston canon of Glasgow. On the KKh of Septem¬
ber, after their meeting, they came to the followingr
agreement. ^
First, That the king of Scotland and his heirs, as
an equivalent for his entertainment while in England,
should pay to the king of England and his heirs, at
London, in the church of St Paul, by equal propor¬
tions, the sum of 40,000/. sterling.
Secondly, That the first payment, amounting to the
sum of ten thousand merks, should be made six months
after the king of Scotland’s entering his own kingdom;
that the like sum should be paid the next year, and so
on during the space of six years, when the whole sum
would be cleared; unless, afterpayment of forty thou¬
sand merks, the last payment of ten thousand should
be remitted, at the intreaty of the most illustrious
prince Thomas duke of Exeter.
Thirdly, That the king of Scotland, before entering
his own kingdom, should give sufficient hostages for
performance on his part. But, in regard that the
Scots plenipotentiaries had no,instructions concerning:
hostages, it was agreed,
Fourthly, That the king of Scotland should be at
Branspath, or Durham, by the. first of March next,
where he should be attended by the nobles of his blood,
and other subjects, in order to fix the number and qua¬
lity of the hostages.
Fifthly, That, to cement and perpetuate the amity
of the two kingdoms, the governor of Scotland should
4 M 2 send
SCOT L A N D.
644
Scotland, send ambassadors to London, with power to conclude
c——a contract of marriage between the king of Scotland
and some lady of the first quality in England.
11 is probable that James had already fixed his choice
upon the lady Joan, daughter to the late earl of Somer¬
set, who was son to John of Gaunt duke of Lancaster,
by his second marriage; but he made his people the
compliment, not only of consulting their opinion, but
of concluding the match. The commissioners, after
their agreement at York, proceeded towards London ;
and Thomas Somerville of Carnwath, with Walter
Ogilvy, were added to their number. Being arrived
at that capital, they ratified the former articles, and
undertook for their king, that he should deliver his
hostages to the king of England’s officers, in the city
of Durham, before the last day of the ensuing month
of March ; that he should also deliver to the said offi¬
cers four obligatory letters, for the whole sum of
40,000/. from the four burghs of Edinburgh, Perth,
Dundee, and Aberdeen; that he should give his obli-
gato^r letter to the same purpose, before removing
from Durham, and should renew the same four days
after his arrival in his own kingdom ; that the hostages
might be changed from time to time for others of the
same fortune and quality; that if any of them should
eiie in England, others should be sent thither in their
room; and that while they continued to stay in Eng-
517 land, they should live at their own charges.
Marriage The marriage of James with the lady Joan Beau-
l-lines1" f°rt was celebrated in the beginning of February 1424*.
An. 1424. f ^le y°ung king of England presented him with a suit
of cloth of gold for the ceremony; and the next day
he received a legal discharge of 10,000 pounds, to be
deducted from the 40,000 at which his ransom was fix¬
ed, and which sum was given as the marriage-portion
of the lady. The ceremony being performed, the king
and queen set out for Durham, where the hostages were
waiting; and arrived at his own dominions, along with
the earl of Northumberland and the chief of the north¬
ern nobility, who attended him with great pomp. On
the 20th of April the same year, he was crowned at
Scone; after which ceremony, he followed the exam¬
ple practised by other sovereigns at that time, of
knighting several noblemen and gentlemen.
During the dependence of the treaty for James’s re¬
lease, the Scots had emigrated to France, in such num¬
bers, that no fewer than 15,000 of them now appeared
in arms under the duke of Touraine; but as the history
of the war in that country has already been given un¬
der the article France, we shall take no further no-
tice of it, but return to the affairs of Scotland.
He reforms On his return James found himself in a disagreeable
severalabu-situation.. The great maxim of the duke of Albany,
iamL L° when regent, had been- to maintain himself in power by
exempting the lower class of people from taxes of every
kind. This plan had been continued by his son Mur¬
doch ; but as the latter was destitute of his father’s abi¬
lities, the people abused their happiness, and Scotland
became such a scene of rapine, that no commoner could
say he had a property in his own estate. The Stewart
family, on their accession to the crown of Scotland, pos¬
sessed a very considerable patrimonial estate, independ¬
ent of the standing revenues of the crown, which con¬
sisted chiefly of customs, wards, and reliefs. The re¬
venues of the paternal estate belonging to James, had
they been regularly transmitted to him, would have Scotland,
more than maintained him in a splendour equal to his'—'V'-J
dignity, while he was in England; nor would he in
that case have had any occasion for an allowance from
the king of England. But as the duke of Albany ne¬
ver intended that his nephew should return, he parcel¬
led out among his favourites the estates of the Stewart
family, in such a manner that James on his return found
all his patrimonial revenues gone, and many of them in
the hands of his best friends; so that be had nothing to
depend on for the support of himself and his court but
the crown-revenues above mentioned, and even some
of these had been mortgaged during the late regency.
This circumstance, of itselfsufficiently disagreeable, was
attended with two others, which tended to make it more
so. The one was, that the hostages which had been
left for the king’s ransom in England, being all persons-
of the first rank, were attended by their wives, families,
children, and equipages, which rivalled those of the
same rank in England, and drew a great deal of ready
money out of the nation. The other circumstances
arose from the charge of the Scots army in France;
where Charles, who had never been in a condition to
support it, was now reduced to the utmost necessity;
while the revenues of James himself were both scanty
and precarious. To remedy these inconveniences,
therefore, the king obtained from his parliament an act
obliging the sheriffs of the respective counties to in¬
quire what lands and estates had belonged to his an¬
cestors David II. Robert II. and Robert III.; and
James formed a resolution of resuming these lands
wherever they could be discovered, without regard to
persons or circumstances. On this occasion many of
the most illustrious personages in the kingdom were ar- jig
rested : the duke of Albany, his two sons, and the earl Several of
of Lennox the duke’s father-in-law, were put to death,the nobili‘
though their crimes are not specified by historians. f^execut"
James now proceeded with great spirit to reform the
abuses which had pervaded every department of the
state, protected and encouraged learning and learned
men, and even kept a diary in which he wrote down
the names of all the learned men whom he thought
deserving of his encouragement. James himself wrote
some poetry; and in music, was such an excellent com¬
poser, that he is with good reason looked upon as the
father of Scots music, which lias beeni so much ad¬
mired for its elegant simplicity. He introduced or¬
gans into his chapels, and a much better style of ar¬
chitecture into all buildings, whether civil or religious^.
Nor did he confine his cares to the fine arts, but en¬
couraged and protected those of all kinds which were
useful in society; and, in short, he did more towards
the civilization of his people than had been done by
any of his predecessors.
In the meantime the truce continued with England.,
James, however, seemed not to have any inclination to
enter into a lasting alliance with that kingdom. On
the contrary, in 1428, he entered into a treaty with
France; by which it was agreed, that a marriage
should be concluded between the dauphin of France,
afterwards Louis XL, and the young princess of Scot¬
land ; and so great was the necessity of King Charles
for troops at that time, that he demanded only 6000
forces as a portion for the princess.
The rest, of the reign of James was spent in reform¬
ing
S C O T L AND.
645
{ land, ing abuses, curbing the authority of the great barons,
 ' and recovering the royal estates out of the hands of
■? ^ usurpers. In this, however, he used so much severity,
erefi. that lie was at last murdered, in the year 1437. The
A 457. perpetrators of this murder were the earl of Athol;
Robert Graham, who was connected with the earl,
and wdio was discontented on account of his losing the
estate of Strathearn, which had been re-annexed to the
crown; and Robert, grandchild and heir to the earl
of Athol, and one of the king’s domestics. The king
had dismissed his army, without even reserving to him¬
self a body-guard, and was at supper in a Dominican
convent in the neighbourhood of Perth. Graham had
for some time been at the head of a gang of outlaws,
and is said to have brought a party of them to Perth
in the dead of the night, where he posted them near
the convent. Walter Straton, one of the king’s cup¬
bearers, went to bring some wine to the king while at
supper ; but perceiving armed men standing in the pas¬
sage, he gave the alarm, and wras immediately killed.
Catharine Douglas, one of the queen’s maids of honour,
ran to bolt the outer door ; but the bar was taken away
by Robert Stuart, in order to facilitate the entrance of
the murderers. The lady thrust her arm into the sta¬
ple ; but it wms instantly broken, and the conspirators
rushed in upon the king. Patrick Dunbar, brother to
the earl of March, was killed in attempting to defend
his sovereign, and the queen received two wounds in
attempting to interpose herself betwixt her husband and
the daggers of the assassins. James defended himself
as long as he could; but at last expired under the re¬
peated strokes of his murderers, after having received
28 wounds.
U 0f In the reign of James I. several important regulations
hi ign. were made for the improvement of the internal polity
of the kingdom. James’s long residence in England,
then a great and happy nation, had taught him, that
the prosperity of a people depended much on the wis¬
dom of the legislature, in enacting salutary laws, and
on the activity of the chief magistrates in putting them
in execution. In his third parliament, was passed an
act, which affords the first appearance of a College of
Justice in Scotland. By this it was ordained, that the
king might appoint the chancellor, and three discreet
persons of the three estates, to act as the Session, when¬
ever the king should think fit, three times in the year,
for determination of such causes as had before been ad¬
judged by the king and his council. In 1425, it was
enacted, that six wise men of the three estates should
examine the books of law, which then consisted of what
were called liegiam Majestatem and Quoniam Archia-
mentn, and should amend what needed amendment.
Various statutes were made, called the Black Acts, for
Si
by
I!
2C
14
preserving domestic tranquillity, diminishing the exor¬
bitant power of the nobles, and promoting religious
worship. Happy wrould it have been for Scotland if
so wdse a monarch had lived to execute strictly what
had been enacted in so mafiy parliaments for the ge-
22 neral good of a wretched nation.
■edcd After the murder of James I. the crown devolved on
mes his son James II. at that time only seven years of agOi
March ^ Pai'hament was immediately called by the queen-
mother, at which the most cruel punishments were de¬
creed to the murderers of the late king. The crime,
no doubt, deserved,an exemplary punishment; . but the
barbarities inflicted on some of those wretches are shock- Scotland,
ing to relate. Within less than six weeks after the death i—y—"
of the king, all the conspirators were brought to Edin¬
burgh, arraigned, condemned, and executed. The
meaner sort were hanged ; but on the earl of Athol
and Robert Graham the most cruel torments were in¬
flicted, such as pincing with hot irons, dislocation of
the joints, &c. The earl of Athol had, besides, a
crown of red-hot iron put on his head ; and was after¬
wards cut up alive, his heart taken out, and thrown in-
to a fire. In short, so dreadful were these punishments,
that ./Eneas Sylvius, the pope’s nuncio, who beheld
them, said, that he was at a loss to determine whether
the crime committed by the regicides, or the punish¬
ment inflicted upon them, was the greater.
As the late king had prescribed no form of regency An. 1438...
in case of his death, the settlement of the government
became a matter of great difficulty as well as import¬
ance. Archibald earl of Douglas, who had been creat¬
ed duke of Touraine in France, was by far the greatest
subject in the kingdom ; but as he had not been a fa¬
vourite in the preceding reign, and the people were
now disgusted with regencies, he was not formally ap¬
pointed to the administration, though by his high rank
he in fact enjoyed the supreme power as long as he liv- 323
ed; which, however, was but a short time. He died Supreme
the same year (1438); and Sir Alexander Livingstone power di-
of Callendar was appointed to succeed him as governor ^
of the kingdom, that is, to have the executive powrer, governor
while William Crichton, as chancellor, had the direc- and chan-
tion of the civil courts. This was a most unfortunate ^'®r.^
partition of power for the public. The governor and*,’^’11'8'
chancellor quarrelled ; the latter took possession of the
king’s person and the castle of Edinburgh, to neither of
which he had any right; but the former had on his
side the queen-mother, a woman of intrigue and spirit.
Her son was shut up in the castle of Edinburgh ; and
in a short time there was no appearance either of law
or government in Scotland. The governor’s edicts were
counteracted by those of the chancellor under the king’s
name, and those who obeyed the chancellor were pu¬
nished by the governor; while the young earl of Dou¬
glas, with his numerous followers and dependents, was
a declared enemy of both parties, whom he equally
sought, to destroy. 324*
The queen-mother demanded access to her son, which The queen-
Crichton could find no pretext for denying her ; and^4^*®15
she was accordingly admitted with a small train into
the castle of Edinburgh. She played her part so well,
and dissembled with so much art, that the chancellor,
believing she had become a convert todiis cause, treated
her with unbounded confidence, and suffered her at all
hours to have free access to her son’s person. Pretend¬
ing that she had vowed a pilgrimage to the white church
of Buchan, she recommended the care ot her son’s per¬
son, till her return, to the chancellor, in the most pa¬
thetic and affectionate terms: but, in the mean time,
she secretly sent him to Leith, packed up in a clothes-
chest; and both she and James were received at Stir¬
ling by the governor before the escape was known. As*
every thing had been managed in concert with Living¬
stone, he immediately called together his friends; and
laying before them the tyrannical behaviour of the chan¬
cellor, it was resolved to besiege him in the castle of
Edinburgh, the queen promising to open her own gra¬
naries *
646
Scotland,
-325
Intestine
: broils.
SCOT
naries for the use of the army. The chancellor foresaw
the storm that was likely to fall upon him, and sought
to prevent it by applying to the earl of Douglas. That
haughty nobleman answered him in the terms already
mentioned, and that he was preparing to exterminate
both parties. The siege of Edinburgh castle being
formed, the chancellor demanded a parley, and a per¬
sonal interview with the governor ; to which the latter,
who was no stranger to the sentiments of Douglas, rea¬
dily agreed. Common danger united them in a com¬
mon cause ; and the chancellor resigning to the other
the custody of the castle and the king’s person, with
the highest professions of duty and loyalty, the two com¬
petitors swore an inviolable friendship for each other.
Next, day the king cemented their union, by confirm¬
ing both of them in their respective charges.
The lawless example of the earl of Douglas encoura¬
ged the other great landholders to gratify their piivate
animosities, sometimes at the expense of their honour as
well as their humanity. A family difference happened
between Sir Allan Stuart, of Darnley, and Thomas
Boyd of Kilmarnock ; but it was concluded that both
parties should come to a peaceable agreement at Pol-
maisthorn, between Linlithgow and Falkirk, where
Stuart was treacherously murd red by his enemy.
-Stuart’s death was revenged by his brother, Sir Alex¬
ander Stuart of Beilmouth, who challenged Boyd to a
pitched battle, the principals being attended by a reti¬
nue which carried the resemblance of small armies. The
•conflict was fierce and bloody, each party retiring in
its turn, and charging with fresh fury ; but at last vic¬
tory declared itself for Stuart, the bravest of Boyd’s
attendants being cut off in the field. About this time,
the islanders, under two of their chieftains, Lauchlan
Maclean and Murdoc Gibson, notorious freebooters,
invaded Scotland, and ravaged the province of Lenox
with fire and sword. They were opposed by John
Colquhoun of Luss, whom they slew, some say treacher¬
ously, and others, in an engagement at Lochlomond,
near Inchroartin. After this, the robbers grew more
outrageous than ever, not only filling all the neighbour¬
ing country with rapine, but murdering the aged, in¬
fants, and the defenceless of both sexes. At last, all
the labouring hands in the kingdom being engaged
in domestic broils, none were left for agriculture ; and
a dreadful famine ensued, attended, as usual, by a pes¬
tilence. James was now about ten years of age; and
the wisest part of the kingdom agreed, that the public
distresses were owing to a total disrespect of the royal
authority. 1 he .young earl of Douglas never had fewer
than 1000, and sometimes 2000 horse in his train ; so
that none was. found hardy enough to controul him.
He pretended to be .independent of the king and his
courts of law ; that he had a right of judicature upon
his own large estates; and that he was entitled to
the exercise of royal power. In consequence of this
he issued his orders, gave protections to thieves and
murderers, affected to brave the king, made knights,
and, according to some writers, even noblemen, of
his own dependents, with a power of sitting in parlia¬
ment.
rlhe queen-mother was not wholly guiltless of those
abuses. She had fallen in love with and married Sir
James Stuart, who was commonly called thcI^/acA- knight
LAND.
of Lorn, brother to the lord of that title, and a descen- Scotland
dant of the house of Darnley. Affection for her bus-v—
band caused her to renew her political intrigues ; and
not finding a ready compliance in the governor, her
interest inclined towards the party of the Douglases.
The governor thought to strengthen his authority by
restoring the exercise of the civil power, and the re¬
verence due to the person of the sovereign. 30g
The conduct of the lord Callendar was in many re-Thequi*
spects not so defensible, either as to prudence or policy, mother ai
When thequeen expressed her inclinations that, herhus |)icr j,,K'
band might be admitted to some part of the administra-^hon^'
tion, the governor threw both him and his brother the
lord Lorn into prison, on a charge of undutiful practices
against the state, and abetting the earl of Douglas in
his enormities. The queen, taking fire at her hus¬
band’s imprisonment, was herself confined in a mean a-
partment within the castle of Stirling ; and a conven¬
tion of the states was called, to judge in what manner
she was to be proceeded against. The case was unpre¬
cedented and difficult; nor is it credible that the gover¬
nor would have carried matters to such extremity, had
he not had strong evidence of her illegal behaviour.
She was even obliged to dissemble her resentment, by
making an open profession before the states, that she
had always been entirely innocent of her husband’s
practices, and that she would for the future behave as
a peaceable and dutiful subject to the laws and the
sovereign. Upon making this purgation (as Lindsay
calls it), she was released, as also her husband and hisieaSed.
brother, being bailed by the chancellor and the lord
Gordon, who became sureties for their good behaviour
in the penalty of 4000 merks. The governor was af¬
terwards accused of many arbitrary and partial acts of
power : and indeed, if we consider his situation, and
the violence of the parties which then divided Scot¬
land, it was almost impossible, consistently with his
ovvn safety, to have exerted the virtues either of pa¬
triotism or moderation.
The chancellor was exceedingly vexed at the small
regard which the governor paid to his person and dig¬
nity, and secretly connected himself with the queen-
mother ; but in the mean time he remained at Edin¬
burgh. The king and his mother continued all this
time at Stirling; where the governor, on pretence of
consulting the public safety, and that of the king’s
person, maintained a strong guard, part of which at¬
tended James in his juvenile exercises and diversions.
The queen-mother did not fail to represent this to her
son as a restraint on his liberty ; and obtained his con- ,(,g
sent to put himself into the chancellor’s hands. The xi,e chai
latter, who was a man of activity and courage, knewcellorget
well how to avail himself of this permission ; andtlie^?
crossing the Forth in the dark with a strong body
of horse, they surrounded the king as he was hunt¬
ing next morning by break of day. It was easy to
perceive from the behaviour of James, that he was no
stranger to the chancellor’s attempt; but some of the
king’s guard offering to dispute the possession of his
person, Sir William Livingston, the governor’s eldest
son, restrained them, and suffered the king to depart
quietly. This surprisal happened on a day when the
governor was absent from Stirling ; and the chancel¬
lor, to make sure of his royal acquisition, entered Edin¬
burgh
SCOTLAND.
g land, burgh at the head of 4000 horse, where the king and
>- r-— he w'ere received by the citizens with loud acclama¬
tions of joy.
The governor showed no emotion at what had hap¬
pened ; on the contrary, he invited the chancellor to
2g an interview, and settled all differences with him in an
R( nious amicable manner. The young lord Douglas, however,
bel lour continued to brave both parties. As if he had been a
of | ■ earl sovereign prince, he demanded by his ambassadors, Mal-
of l|g ab- coim Fleming of Cumbernauld, and Allan Lawder, the
investiture of the sovereignty of Touraine from Charles
the seventh of France; which being readily granted
him, served to increase his pride and insolence. The
first-fruits of the accommodation between the two great
officers of state was the holding of a parliament at Edin¬
burgh, for redressing the public disorders occasion¬
ed by the earl of Douglas ; and encouragement was
given to all persons who had been injured to make
their complaints. The numbers which on that occa¬
sion resorted to Edinburgh wrere incredible; parents,
children, and women, demanding vengeance for the
murder of their relations, or the plunder of their estates;
till, by the multiplicity of their complaints, they be¬
came without remedy, none being found bold enough
to encounter the earl of Douglas, or to endeavour to
bring him to a fair trial. The parties therefore were
dismissed without relief, and it was resolved to proceed
with the haughty earl in a different manner. Letters
were written to him by the governor and chancellor,
and in the name of the states, requesting him to ap¬
pear with his friends in parliament, and to take that
lead in public affairs to which they were intitled by
their high rank and great possessions. The manner in
which, those letters wrere penned made the thoughtless
earl consider them as a tribute due to his greatness, and
as proceeding from the inability of the government to
continue the administration of public affairs without
his countenance and direction. Without dreaming that
any man in Scotland would be so bold as to attack him,,
even single or unarmed, he answered the letters of the
chancellor and governor, by assuring them that he in¬
tended to set out for Edinburgh : the chancellor, on
pretence of doing him honour, but in reality to quiet
his suspicions, met him while he was on his journey ;
and inviting him to his castle of Crichton, he there
entertained him for some days with the greatest magni¬
ficence and appearance of hospitality. The earl of
Douglas believed ail the chancellor’s professions of
friendship, and even sharply checked the wisest of his
followers, who counselled him not to depend too much
on appearances, or to trust his brother and himself at
the same time in any place where the chancellor had
power. The latter had not only removed the earl’s sus¬
picion, but had made him a kind of convert to patriot¬
ism, by painting to him the miseries of his country, and
the glory that must redound to him and his friends in
removing them. It was in vain for his attendants to
remind him of his father’s maxim, never to risk himself'
and his brother at the same time: he without hesita¬
tion attended the chancellor to Edinburgh ; and being'
admitted into the castle, they dined at the same table
with the king. Towards the end of the entertain-
njent, a bull’s head, the certain prelude of immediate
death, was served up. The earl and his brother start¬
ed to their feet, and endeavoured to make their es- Scotland:.
cape: but armed men rushing in, overpowered them, J
and tying their hands and those of Sir Malcolm Fie- T 330
ming with cords, they were carried to (he hill and be-£a?h with
headed. The young king endeavoured with tears tolas brother.,
procure their pardon; for which he was severely check¬
ed by the unrelenting chancellor.
In 1443, the king being arrived at the age of 14, An. 1443..
declared himself out of the years of minority, and
took upon himself the administration- of affairs. He
appears to have been a prince of great spirit and re¬
solution ; and he had occasion for it. He had appoint¬
ed one Robert Sempil of Fulwood to be chief gover¬
nor of the castle of Dumbarton ; but he was killed by
one Galbraith (a noted partisan of the earl of Dou¬
glas), wdio seized upon the government of the castle.
The popularity of the family of Douglas having some¬
what subsided and the young earl finding himself not
supported by the chief branches of his family, he be¬
gan to think, now that the king was grown up, his 331
safest course would be to return to his duty. lie ac- T,ie y°un;g
cordingly repaired to the king at Stirling; and volun-^1^1^149,
tarily throwing himself at his majesty’s feet, implored and h re-8*'
pardon for all his transgressions, and solemnly pro-ceived into-
raised that he would ever after set a pattern of dutyfavour‘-
and loyalty to all the rest of his subjects. The king,
finding that he insisted on no terms but that of par¬
don, and that he had unconditionally put himself into
his power, not only granted his request, but made him
the partner of bis inmost councils.
James had always disliked the murder of the earl of
Douglas and his brother : and the chancellor, perceiv¬
ing the ascendancy which this earl was daily gaining
at Court, thought it high time to provide for his own
safety. He therefore resigned the great seal, and re¬
tired to the castle of Edinburgh, the custody of which
he pretended had been granted to him by the late king
during his life, or till the present king should arrive at 332
the age of 21 ; and prepared it for a siege. The lord,Great
Callendar who knew himself equally obnoxious as?,u^an,ces,..
Crichton was to the earl of. Douglas, and that he could111 L°l ^
not maintain his footing by himself, resigned likewise-
all his posts, and retired to one of his own houses, but-
kept possession of the castle of Stirling. As both that
and the castle of Edinburgh were royal forts, the two-
lords were summoned to surrender them ; but instead
of complying, they justified their conduct by the great
power of their-enemies, who sought?their destruction,
and who had been so lately at the head of robbers and
outlaws ; but promised to surrender themselves to the
king as soon as he was of lawful age, (meaning,- wo
suppose, either 18 or 21). This answer-being deemed’
contumacious^ the chancellor and the kite governor,
with his two sons Sir Alexander and Sir James Living¬
ston, were proclaimed traitors in a parliament which
was summoned on purpose to be held at Stirling. In-
another parliament held at Perth the same year, an act’
passed that all the lands and goods which had belong¬
ed to the late king should be possessed by the present"
king to the time of his lawful age, which is not speci¬
fied. This aet was levelled against the late governor-
and chancellor, who were accused of having alienated?
to their own uses, or to those of their friends, a great-
part of the royal effects and jewels ; and their estates ••
beings
SCOTLAND.
648
Scotland. be{ng confiscated, the execution of the sentence was
^ v ' committed to John Forrester of Corstorphin, and other
adherents of the earl of Douglas.
This sentence threw all the nation into a flame.
The castle of Crichton was besieged ; and being sur¬
rendered on the king’s summons and the displa}'- of the
royal banner, it was levelled with the ground. It soon
appeared that the governor and chancellor, the latter
especially, had many friends ; and in particular Kenne¬
dy archbishop of St Andrew’s, nephew to James the
First, who sided with them from the dread and hatred
they bore to the earl of Douglas and his family.
Crichton thus soon found himself at the head of a body
of men; and while Forrester was carrying fire and
sword into his estates and those of the late governor,
his own lands and those of the Douglases were over¬
run. Corstorphin, Abercorn, Blackness, and other
places, were plundered ; and Crichton carried off from
them more booty than he and his adherents had lost.
Particular mention is made of a fine breed of mares
which Douglas lost on this occasion. That nobleman
was so much exasperated by the great damages he had
sustained, that he engaged his friends the earl of Craw¬
ford and Alexander Ogilvy of Innerquharity, to lay
waste the lands of the archbishop of St Andrew’s,
whom he considered as the chief support of the two
ministers. This prelate was not more considerable by
his high birth, than he was venerable by his virtue
and sanctity ; and had, from a principle of conscience,
opposed the earl of Douglas and his party. Being
conscious he had done nothing that was illegal, he first
admonished the earl of Crawford and his coadjutor to
desist from destroying his lands ; but finding his ad¬
monitions ineffectual, he laid the earl under an ex-
communication.
That nobleman was almost as formidable in the
northern, as the earl of Douglas had been in the
southern, parts of Scotland. The Benedictine monks
of Aberbrothwic, who w^ere possessed of great proper¬
ty, had chosen Alexander Lindsay, his eldest son, to
he the judge or bailiff of their temporalities ; as they
themselves, by their profession, could not sit in civil
or criminal courts. Lindsay proved so chargeable to
the monks, by the great number of his attendants, and
his high manner of living, that their chapter removed
him from his post, and substituted in his place Alex¬
ander Ogilvy of Innerquharity, guardian to his nephew
John Ogilvy of Airley, who had an hereditary claim
on the bailiwick. This, notwithstanding their former
intimacy, created an irreconcileable difference between
the two families. Each competitor strengthened him-
»self by calling in the assistance of his friends ; and the
lord Gordon taking part with the Ogilvies, to whom he
was then paying a visit, both parties immediately mus¬
tered in the neighbourhood of Aberbrothwic. The
earl of Crawford, who was then at Dundee, immedi¬
ately posted to Aberbrothwic, and placing himself be¬
tween the two armies, he demanded to speak with Ogil¬
vy; but, before his request could be granted, he was
killed by a common soldier, who was ignorant of his
quality. His death exasperated his friends, who im¬
mediately rushed on their enemies ; and a bloody con¬
flict ensued, which ended to the advantage of the Lind¬
says, that is, the earl of Crawford’s party. On that of
the Ogilvies were killed Sir John Oliphant of Aberdalgv,
3
John Forbes of Pitsligo, Alexander Barclay of Gart- Salami
ley, Robert Maxwel of Teling, Duncan Campbell of
Campbelfether, William Gordon of Burrowfield, and
others. With those gentlemen, about 500 of their fol¬
lowers are said to have fallen ; but some accounts di¬
minish that number. Innerquharity himself, in flying,
was taken prisoner, and carried to the earl of Craw¬
ford’s house at Finhaven, where he died of his wounds ;
but the lord Gordon (or, as others call him, the earl of
Hunfly) escaped by the swiftness of his horse.
This battle seems to have let loose the fury of civil
discord all over the kingdom. No regard was paid to
magistracy, nor to any description of men but that
of clergy. The most numerous, fiercest, and best
allied family, wreaked its vengeance on its foes, ei¬
ther by force or treachery; and the enmity that ac¬
tuated the parties, stifled every sentiment of honour,
and every feeling of humanity. The Lindsays, se¬
cretly abetted and strengthened by the earl of Dou¬
glas, made no other use of their victory than carrying
fire and sword through the estates of their enemies ;
and thus all the north of Scotland presented scenes of
murder and devastation. In the west, Robert Boyd
of Duchal, governor of Dumbarton, treacherously sur¬
prised Sir James Stuart of Achmynto, and treated his
wife with such inhumanity, that she expired in three
days under her confinement in Dumbarton castle. The
castle of Dunbar was taken by Patrick Hepburn of
Hales. Alexander Dunbar dispossessed the latter of
his castle of Hales ; but it was retaken by the parti¬
sans of the earl of Douglas, whose tenants, particu¬
larly those of Annandale, are said to have behaved at
that time with peculiar fierceness and cruelty. At last,
the gentlemen of the country, who were unconnected
with those robbers and murderers, which happened to
be the case with many, shut themselves up in their se¬
veral houses; each of which, in those days, was a
petty fortress, which they victualled, and provided in
the best manner they could for their own defence.
This wise resolution seems to have been the first mea¬
sure that composed the public commotions.
The earl of Douglas, whose power and influence at
court still continued, was sensible that the clergy, with
the wiser and more disinterested part of the kingdom,
considered him as the source of the dreadful calamities
which the nation suffered ; and that James himself,
when better informed, would be of the same opinion.
He therefore sought to avail himself of the juncture, by
forming secret but strong connexions with the earls of
Crawford, Ross, and other great noblemen, who desi¬
red to see their feudal powers restored to their full vi¬
gour. The queen-dowager and her husband made little
or no figure during this season of public confusion : she
had retired to the castle of Dunbar, while it was in
Hepburn’s possession, where she died soon after. She
left by her second husband three sons ; John, who in
1455 was made earl of Athol, by his uterine brother
the king; James, who under the next reign, in 1469,
was created earl of Buchan ; and Andrew, who after¬
wards became bishop of Murray. As the earl of Dou¬
glas was an enemy to the queen-dowager’s husband, the
latter retired to England, where he obtained a pass to
go abroad, with 20 in his train; but being taken at sea
by the Flemish pirates, he died in confinement.
The great point between the king and Sir William
Crichton
S C O T L
Si and. Crichton, whether the latter should give up the castle
v- ^ to his majesty, remained still undecided ; and by the
advice and direction of the earl of Douglas, who had
been created lord-lieutenant of the kingdom, it had
now suffered a nine months siege. Either the strength
of the castle, or an opinion entertained by Douglas that
Crichton would be a valuable acquisition to his party,
procured better terms for the latter than he could other¬
wise have expected ; for he and his followers were of¬
fered a full indemnity for all past offences, and a pro¬
mise was made that he should be restored not only to
the king’s favour, but to his former post of chancellor.
He accepted the conditions; but refused to act in any
public capacity till they were confirmed by a parlia¬
ment, which was soon after held at Perth, and in which
he was restored to his estate and honours. By this
reconciliation between Douglas and Crichton, the for¬
mer was left at full liberty to prosecute his vengeance
against the Lord Callendar, thelate governor, his friends
and family. That vengeance was exercised with rigour.
The governor himself, Sir James Dundas of Dundas,
and Sir Robert Bruce of Clackmannan, were forced to
save their lives by the loss of their estates; but even
that could not preserve their liberty, for they were
sent prisoners to the castle of Dumbarton. The fate
of Alexander, the governor’s eldest son, and of two
other gentlemen of his name and family, was still more
lamentable ; for they were condemned to lose their
heads. These severities being inflicted after the king
had in a manner readmitted the sufferers into his fa¬
vour, swelled the public outcry against the earl of Dou¬
glas. We have in Lindsay an extract of the speech
which Alexander Livingston, one of the most accom¬
plished gentlemen of his time, made on the scaffold,
in which he complained, with great bitterness, of the
cruel treatmentwhichhisfather, himself, andhisfriends,
In
Sci
by
Er
At
had undergone ; and that he suffered by a packed jury
of his enemies.
The king being now about 18 years of age, it was
thought proper that a suitable consort should be pro¬
vided for him ; and, after various consultations, Mary,
the daughter of Arnold duke ofGueldres, was chosen,
at the recommendation of Charles king of France,
though the marriage was not completed till some time
3 after. This produced an immediate rupture with Eng-
ion ofland. The earls of Salisbury and Northumberland en-
nd tered Scotland at the head of two separate bodies. The
former burnt the town of Dumfries, as the latter did
447i that of Dunbar; while Sir John Douglas of Balveny
made reprisals by plundering the county of Cumberland,
and burning Alnwic. On the return of the English
armies to their own country, additional levies were
made, and a fresh invasion of Scotland was resolved
on under the earl of Northumberland, who had with
him a lieutenant, whom the Scots of those days, from
the bushiness and colour of his beard, called Magnus
mth the red mane. He was a soldier of fortune, but
an excellent officer, having been trained in the French
wars; and he is said to have demanded no other recom¬
pense for his services from the English court, but that
he should enjoy all he could conquer in Scotland. The
Scots, in the mean time, had raised an army command¬
ed by George Douglas earl of Ormond, and under him
by Wallace of Craigie, with the lords Maxwell and
Johnston. The English having passed Solway frith,
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
AND.
649
ravaged all that part of the country which belonged to Scotland,
the Scots ; but hearing that the earl of Ormond’s army v—^
was approaching, called in their parties, and fixed their
camp on the banks of the river Sark. Their advanced
guard was commanded by Magnus ; their centre by
the earl of Northumberland ; and the rear, which wras
composed of Welsh, by Sir John Pennington, an offi¬
cer of courage and experience. 334
The Scots drew up in three divisions likewise. Their The battle
right wing was commanded by Wallace, the centre byof Sark-
the earl of Ormond, and their left wing by the lords
Maxwell and Johnston. Before the battle began, the
earl of Ormond harangued his men, and inspired them
with very high resentment against the English, who, he
said, had treacherously broken the truce. Thesignalfor
battle being given, the Scots under Wallace rushed for¬
ward on their enemies: but, as usual, were received
by so terrible a discharge from the English archers,
that their impetuosity must have been stopped, had not
their brave leader Wallace put them in mind, that their
forefathers had always been defeated in distant fights
by the English, and that they ought to trust to their
swords and spears; commanding them at the same time
to follow his example. They obeyed, and broke in
upon the English commanded by Magnus, with such
fury, as soon fixed the fortune of the day on the side of
the Scots, their valour being suitably seconded by the
other two divisions. The slaughter (which was the
more considerable as both parties fought with the ut¬
most animosity) fell chiefly upon the division com¬
manded by Magnus, who was killed, performing the
part of a brave officer ; and all his body-guard, con¬
sisting of picked soldiers, were cut in pieces. ^
The battle then became general: Sir John Penning- The Eas¬
ton’s division, with that under the earl of Northumber- lish entire-
land, was likewise routed ; and the whole English army, ^ defeated,
struck by the loss of their champion, fled towards the
Solway, where, the river being swelled by the tide,
numbers of them were drowned. The loss of the Eng¬
lish in slain amounted to at least 3000 men. Among
the prisoners were Sir John Pennington, Sir Robert
Harrington, and the earl of Northumberland’s eldest ,
son the lord Percy, who lost his own liberty in for-
warding his father’s escape. Of the Scots about 600
were killed ; but none of note, excepting the brave
Wallace, who died three months after of the wounds
he had received in this battle. The booty that was
made on this occasion is said to have been greater than
any that had fallen to the Scots since the battle of Ban¬
nockburn. 33$
The remaining history of this turbulent reign consists Rebellion
almost entirely of a relation of the cabals and conspira- ot die earl
cies of the great men. The earl of Douglas had entered ^
into a confederacy with the earls of Crawford, Moray, others,
and Ross, and appeared on all occasions with such a train
of followers as bade defiance to royal power itself. This
insolence was detested by the wiser part of the nation ;
and one Maclellan, who is called the Tutor of Bomby,
and w'as nephew to Sir Patrick Gray, captain of the
king’s guard, refused to give any attendance on the
earl, or to concur in his measures, but remained at
home as a quiet subject. This inoffensive behaviourwas
by the earl considered as treason against himself; and
violently seizing on Maclellan’s house and person, he’
sent him close prisoner to the castle of Douglas. As
f 4 N Maclellan
SCOTLAND.
G50
Scotian;]. Maclellan was a gentleman of great worth and reputa-
v*—“V”--"1 tion, his uncle Gray applied earnestly to James in his
favour; and such was that prince's regard for Maclel¬
lan, that he wrote and signed a letter for his release,
addressed to the earl of Douglas. Upon Gray’s deli¬
vering this letter to Douglas at his castle, the latter
seemed to receive it with the highest respect, and to
treat Gray with the greatest hospitality, by inviting
him to dinner; but, in the mean time, he gave private
orders that Maclellan’s head should be struck off, and
his body exposed upon the green before the castle co¬
vered with a linen cloth. After dinner, the earl told
Gray that he was ready to obey the king’s commands;
and conducting him to the green, he showed him the
lifeless trunk, which he said Gray might dispose of as
he pleased. Upon this, Gray mounted his horse, and
trusted to his swiftness for his own safety ; for he was
pursued by the earl’s attendants to the gates of Edin¬
burgh.
The conspiracy against James’s government was now
no longer a secret. The lords Balveny and Hamilton,
with such a number of other barons and gentlemen, had
acceded to it, that it was thought to be more powerful
than all the force the king could bring into the field.
Even Crichton advised James to dissemble. The con¬
federates entered into a solemn bond and oath never to
desert one another during life ; and, to make use of
Drummond’s words, “ That injuries done to any one
of them should be done to them all, and be a common
quarrel; neither should they desist, to their best abilities,
to revenge them : that they should concur indifferently
against whatsoever persons within or without the realm,
and spend their lives, lands, goods, and fortunes, in de¬
fence of their debates and differences whatsoever. ” All
who did not enter into this association were treated as
enemies to the public ; their lands were destroyed, their
effects plundered, and they themselves imprisoned or
murdered. Drummond says, that Douglas was then
able to bring 40,000 men into the field; and that his
intention was to have placed the crown of Scotland
on his own head. How far he might have been influ¬
enced by a scene of the same nature that was then pas¬
sing between the houses of York and Lancaster in Eng¬
land, we shall not pretend to determine; though it
does not appear that Ids intention was to wear the
crown himself, but to render it despicable on his so¬
vereign’s head. It is evident, from his behaviour, that
he did not affect royalty ; for when James invited him
to a conference in the castle of Stirling, he offered to
comply provided he had a safe-conduct. This condition
plainly implied, that he had no reliance on the late act
of parliament, which declared the proclamation of the
king’s peace to be a sufficient security for life and for¬
tune to all his subjects; and there is no denying that
the safe-conduct was expedited in the form and man-
3T7 ner required.
interview being obtained, the earl began his march to-
between wards Stirling with his usual great retinue; and ar-
Ki|1g rived there on Shrove-Tuesday. He was received by
the^earl* of ^ie ^'ng as if he had been the best of his. friends, as
Ipou^ia? vvell as the greatest of his subjects, and admitted to sup
with his majesty in the castle, while his attendants were
dispersed.in the town, little suspecting the catastrophe
that followed. The entertainment being over, the king
told, the earl with an air of frankness, “ That as he was
1
now of age, he was resolved to he the father of all his Scotland,
people, and to take the government into his own hands; y—
that his lordship, therefore, had no reason to be under
any apprehensions from his old enemies Caliendar and
Crichton ; that there was no occasion to form any con¬
federacies, as the law was ready to protect him ; and
that he was welcome to the principal direction of
affairs under the crown, and to the first place in the
royal confidence; nay, that all former offences done
by himself and his friends should be pardoned and for¬
gotten. ”
This speech was the very reverse of what the earl of
Douglas aimed at. It rendered him, indeed, the first
subject of the kingdom ; but still he was controulable
by the civil law. In short, on the king’s peremptorily
putting the question to him, he not only refused to
dissolve the confederacy, but upraided the king for his
government. This produced a passionate rejoinder on
the part of James; but the earl represented that he was
under a safe-conduct, and that the nature of his confe¬
deracy was such, that it could not be broken but by 3-8
the common consent of all concerned. The king in- The ki>
sisted on his setting the example; and the earl con- kills him
tinuing more and more obstinate, James stabbed him Wlt1’j115,
with his dagger; and armed men rushing into the room, °"n a‘'
finished the atrocious deed.
After the death of the earl of Douglas, the confede¬
racy came to nothing. The insurgents excused them¬
selves as being too weak for such an enterprise ; and
were contented with trailing the safe-conduct at a
horse’s tail, and proclaiming, by trumpets and horns,
the king a perjured traitor. They proceeded no far¬
ther ; and each departed to his own habitation, after
agreeing to assemble with fresh forces about the begin¬
ning of April. James lost no time in improving this
short respite ; and found the nation in general much
better disposed in his favour than he had reason to ex¬
pect. The intolerable oppressions of the great barons
made his subjects esteem the civil, far preferable to the
feudal, subjection : and even the Douglasses were divi¬
ded among themselves : for the earl of Angus and Sir
John Douglas of Dalkeith were among the most for¬
ward of the royalists. James at the same time wrote
letters to the earl of Huntly, and to all the noblemen
of his kingdom who were not parties in the confedera¬
cy, besides the ecclesiastics, who remained firmly at¬
tached to his prerogative. Before the effect of those
letters could be known, the insurgents had returned to
Stirling (where James still wisely kept himself on the
defensive); repeated their insolences, and the oppro¬
brious treatment of his safe-conduct; and at last they
plundered the town, and laid it in ashes. Being still
unable to take the castle, partly through their own di¬
visions, and partly through the diversity of the opera¬
tions they were obliged to carry on, they left Stirling,
and destroyed the estate of Sir John Douglas of Dal¬
keith, whom they consideredas a double traitor, because
he was a Douglas and a good subject. They then be¬
sieged his castle; but it was so bravely defended by
Patrick Ceckburn, a gentleman of the family of Lang-
ton, that they raised the siege; which gave the royal
party farther leisure for humbling them.
All this time the unhappy country was suffering the-
most cruel devastations; for matters were now come to*
such extremity, that it was necessary for every man to be
su
SCOTLAND.
$ Ur.il a royalist or a rebel. The king was obliged to keep on
u r-"'' the defensive ; and though he had ventured to leave the
castle of Stirling, he was in no condition to face the re¬
bels in the field. They were in possession of all the
strong passes by which his friends were to march to
his assistance; and he even consulted with his attend¬
ants on the means of escaping to France, where he was
sure of an hospitable reception. He w as diverted from
that resolution by Archbishop Kennedy and the earl of
Angus, who wras himself a Douglas, and prevailed on to
wait for the event of the earl of Iluntly’s attempts for
his service. This nobleman, who was descended from
the Seatons, but by marriage inherited the great estates
of the Gordons in the north, had raised an army for
James, to whose family he and his ancestors, by the
Gordons as well as the Seatons, had been always re¬
markably devoted. James was not mistaken in the
high opinion he had of Huntly ; and in the mean time
he issued circular letters to the chief ecclesiastics and
bodies-politic of his kingdom, setting forth the necessity
he w-as under of proceeding as he had done, and his
readiness to protect all his loyal subjects in their rights
and privileges against the powrer of the Douglases and
their rebellious adherents. Before these letters could
have any effect, the rebels had plundered the defence¬
less houses and estates of all who were not in their
confederacy, and had proceeded writh a fury that turn¬
ed to the prejudice of their cause.
The indignation which the public had conceived
against the king, for the violation of his safe-conduct,
began now to subside ; and the behaviour of his enemies
in some measure justified what had happened, or at least
made the people suspect that James would not have
proceeded as he did without the strongest provocation.
The forces he had assembled being unable, as yet, to
act offensively, he resolved to wait for the earl of
Huntly, who by this time was at the head of a consi¬
derable army, and had begun his march southwards.
He had been joined by the Forbeses, Ogilvies, Leslies,
Grants, Irvings, and other relations and dependants of
;9 his family; but having advanced as far as Brechin, he
B: i! of Was opposed by the earl of Crawford, the chief ally of
«l ' the ^ie ear^ I}°u£las> who commanded the people of
rei ■ are Angus, and all the adherents of the rebels in the neigh-
da :ed. bouring counties, headed by foreign officers. The twro
armies joining battle on the 18th of May, victory was
for some time in suspense ; till one Coloss of Bonny-
moon, on whom Crawford had great dependence, but
whom he had imprudently disobliged, came over to the
royalists with the division he commanded, which was
the strongest part of Crawford’s army, armed with
battle-axes, broadswords, and long spears. His defec¬
tion gave the fortune of the day to the earl of Hunt-
ly, as it left the centre flank of Crawford’s army en¬
tirely exposed to the royalists. He himself lost one of
his brothers ; and fled with another, Sir John Lindsay,
to his house at Finhaven, where it is reported that he
broke out into the following ejaculation : “ That he
would be content to remain seven years in hell, to have
in so timely a season done the king his master that ser¬
vice the earl of Huntly had performed, and carry that
applause and thanks he was to receive from him. ”
No author informs us of the loss of men on either
side, though all agree that it was very considerable
on the whole. The earl of Huntly, particularly, lost
651
two brothers, William and Henry; and we are told, Scotland,
that, to indemnify him for his good services, as well as v
for the rewards and presents which he had made in lands
and privileges to his faithful followers, the king bestow¬
ed on him the lands of Badenoch and Lochaber. 54^
The battle of Brechin was not immediately decisive The rebel-
in favour of the king, but proved so in its consequences.1'011 SUP*
The earl of Moray, a Douglas likewise, took advantage prei,se<**
of Huntly’s absence to harass and ravage the estates
of all the royalists in the north ; but Huntly return¬
ing from Brechin with his victorious army, drove his
enemy into his own county of Moray, and afterwards
expelled him even from thence. James was now encou¬
raged, by the advice of his kinsman Kennedy archbishop
of St Andrew’s, to whose firmness and prudence he was
under great obligations, to proceed against the rebels
in a legal manner, by holding a parliament at Edin¬
burgh, to which the confederated lords were summon¬
ed ; and upon their non-appearance, they were so- 541
lenmly declared traitors. This proceeding seemed to New asso*
make the rebellion rage more fiercely than ever ; andciatlon a~
at last, the confederates, in fact, disowned their alle-
giance to James. The earls of Douglas, Crawford, Or- t|,c earL of
mond, Moray, the lord Balveny, Sir James Hamilton, Douglas,
and others, signed with their own hands public mani- Crawford,
festoes, which were pasted on the doors of the principal&c'
churches, importing, “ That they were resolved never
to obey command or charge, nor answer citation for the
time coming; because the king, so far from being a
just master, was a bloodsucker, a murderer, a transgres¬
sor of hospitality, and a surprise!* of the innocent. ” It
does not appear that these atrocious proceedings did
any service to the cause of the confederates. The earl
of Huntly continued victorious in the north ; where
he and his followers, in revenge for the earl of Moray’s
having burnt his castle of Huntly, seized or ravaged
all that nobleman’s great estate north of the Spey.
When he came to the town of Forres, he burned one
side of the town, because it belonged to the earl, and
spared the other, because it was the property of his
own friends. James thought himself, from the beha¬
viour of the earl of Douglas and his adherents, now
warranted to come to extremities ; and marching into
Annandale, he carried fire and sword through all the
estates of the Douglases there. The earl of Crawford,
on the other hand, having now recruited his strength,
destroyed the lands of all the people of Angus, and of
all others who had abandoned him at the battle of
Brechin ; though there is reason to believe, that he
had already secretly resolved to throw himself upon
the king’s mercy.
Nothing but the most obstinate pride and resentment
could have prevented the earl of Douglas, at this time,
from taking the advice of his friends, by returning to
his duty; in which case, James had given sufficient in¬
timations that he might expect pardon. He coloured
his contumacy with the specious pretext, that his bro¬
ther’s fate, and those of his two kinsmen, sufficiently
instructed him never to trust to James or his ministers ;
that he had gone too far to think now of receding;
and that kings, when once offended, as James had been,
never pardoned in good earnest. Such were the chief
reasons, with others of less consequence, which Drum¬
mond has put into the mouth of Douglas at this time.
Janies, after his expedition into Annandale, found the
i N 2 season
052
SCOTLAND.
the earl of
Crawford,
343
•who is re-
Scotland. season too far advanced to continue his operations; and
returning to Edinburgh, he marched northwards to
Angus, to reduce the earl of Crawford, who was the
second rebel of power in the kingdom. That nobleman
had hitherto deferred throwing himself at the king’s
feet, and had resumed his arms, in the manner related,
only in hopes that better terms might be obtained from
James for himself and his party. Perceiving that the
earl of Douglas's obstinacy had cooled some other
lords of the confederacy, and had put an end to all
342 hopes of a treaty, he resolved to make a merit of
Broken by breaking the confederacy, by being the first to sub¬
mit. James having arrived in Angus, was continuing
his march through the country, when the earl and
some of his chief followers fell on their knees before
him on the road, bareheaded and barefooted. Their
dreary looks, their suppliant postures, and the tears
which streamed abundantly from the earl, were ex¬
pressive of the most abject contrition, whiqh was fol¬
lowed by a penitential speech made by the earl, ac¬
knowledging his crimes, and imploring forgiveness.
James was then attended by his chief counsellors,
particularly Archbishop Kennedy, who, he resolved,
should have some share in the favour be meant to ex¬
tend to the earl. He asked their advice ; which prov-
cmved into ing to be on thg merciful side, James promised to the
avour. earj followers the restitution of all their estates
and honours, and full pardon for all that had passed.
The earl, as a grateful return for this favour, before
the king left Angus, joined him with a noble troop of
his friends and followers; and attending him to the
north, was extremely active in suppressing all the re¬
mains of the rebellion there.
The submission of the earl of Crawford was followed
by that of the earl of Douglas; which, however, con¬
tinued only for a short time. This powerful nobleman
soon resumed his rebellious practices ; and, in the year
\n. 1454. 1454*, raised an army to fight against the king. The
king erected his standard at St Andrew’s ; marched
from thence to Falkland; and ordered all the forces of
Fife, Angus, and Strathern, with those of the northern
parts, to rendezvous by a certain day at Stirling ;
which they did to the number of 30,000. Douglas as¬
sembled his forces, which amounted to 4*0,000, some
say 60,000 men, on the south side of the river Carron,
about half way between Stirling and Abercorn. Not¬
withstanding this superiority offeree, however, the earl
did not think it proper to fight his sovereign. Arch¬
bishop Kennedy, the prelate of St Andrew’s, had ad¬
vised the king to divide his enemies by offering them
pardon separately ; and so good an effect had this, that
in a few days the earl found himself deserted by all his
numerous army, except about 100 of his nearest friends
and domestics, with whom he retired towards England.
His friends had indeed advised him to come to a battle
immediately ; but the earl, for reasons now unknown,
refused. In his journey southward, however, he raised
a considerable body of forces, consisting of his own te¬
nants, of outlaws, robbers, and borderers, with whom
he renewed his depredations on the loyal subjects of the
king.. He was opposed by the earl of Angus, who,
though of the name of Douglas, continued firm in the
royal cause. An engagement ensued at Ancrum muir;
where Douglas was entirely defeated, and he himself
with great difficulty escaped to an adjacent wood.
544
Earl Dou¬
glas sub¬
mits, but
rebels a-
gam.
345
He is en¬
tirely de¬
feated.
What his fate was after this battle does not appear ; Scotland,
but it is certain that his estates were afterwards for-r—>
feited to the king.
The rest of the reign of James II. was spent in k. James
making proper regulations for the good of his people. II. killed
In 1460, he was killed at the siege of Roxburgh cas-
tie, by the bursting of a cannon, to which he was An,1‘}co'
too near when it was discharged. This siege he had
undertaken in favour of Margaret queen of England,
who, after losing several battles, and being reduced
to distress, was obliged to apply to James for relief.
The nobility who were present concealed his death,
for fear of discouraging the soldiers; and, in a few
hours after, his queen appeared in the camp, and pre¬
sented her son, James III. as their king.
James III. wras not quite seven years of age at his ac-James III
cession to the crown. The administration naturally de¬
volved on his mother; who pushed the siege of Rox¬
burgh castle with so much vigour, that the garrison was
obliged to capitulate in a few days; after which the
army ravaged the country, and took and dismantled the 343
castle of Wark.—In 1466, negociations were begun for Marriage-
a marriage between the young king and Margaret prim treaty with
cess of Denmark; and, in 1468, the following condi-
tions were stipulated. 1. That the annual rent hither-mavk.
to paid for the northern isles of Orkney and Shetland An. 1468.
should be for ever remitted and extinguished. 2. That
King Christiern, then king of Denmark, should give
60,000 florins of gold for his daughter’s portion, where¬
of 10,000 should be paid before her departure from
Denmark ; and that the islands of Orkney should be
made over to the crown of Scotland, by way of pledge
for the remainder; with this express proviso, that they
should return to that of Norway after complete pay-
mentof the whole sum. 3. That King James should,
in case of his dying before the said Margaret his
spouse, leave her in possession of the palace of Lin¬
lithgow and castle of Down in Menteith, with all their
appurtenances, and the third part of the ordinary re¬
venues of the crown, to be enjoyed by her during life,
in case she should choose to reside in Scotland. 4. But
if she rather chose to return to Denmark, that in lieu
of the said liferent, palace, and castle, she should ac¬
cept of 120,000 florins of the Rhine ; from which sum
the 50,000 due for the remainder of her portion being
deduced and allowed, the islands of Orkney should be
reannexed to the crown of Norway as before.
When these articles were agreed on, Christiern found
himself unable to fulfil his part of them. Being at
that time engaged in an unsuccessful war with Sweden,
he could not advance the 10,000 florins which he had
promised to pay down as part of his daughter’s fortune.
He was therefore obliged to apply to the plenipotentia¬
ries to accept of 2000, and to take a farther mortgage 349
of the isles of Shetland for the other 8000. The Disgrace
Scottish plenipotentiaries, of whom Boyd earl of Ar-the carlo!
ran was one, gratified him in his request; and this^rr*"&
concession is thought to have proved fatal to thefam' ^
earl. Certain it is, that his father was beheaded for
treasonable practices alleged to have been committed
long before, and for which he in vain produced a par¬
liamentary indemnity : the earl himself was divorced
from his wife the king’s sister, and obliged to live in
perpetual exile, while the countess was married to
another.
la
S C O T L
gc and. In II'TG, those misfortunes began to come on James
u. —J which afterwards terminated in his ruin. He had made
\ his brother, the duke of Albany, governor of Berwick ;
®.ej and had entrusted him with very extensive powers on
mis . the borders, where a violent propensity for the feudal
tun law still continued. The Humes and the Hepburns,
An i"6. t|ien tjie most powerful subjects in those parts, could
not brook the duke of Albany’s greatness, especially
after he had forced them, by virtue of a late act, to
. i !tu_ part with some of the estates which had been inconsi-
ate( ith derately granted them in this and the preceding reign,
the ief The pretended science of judicial astrology, by which
oft olo- james happened to be incredibly infatuated,was the ea¬
siest as well as most effectual engine that could aid
their purposes. One Andrew, an infamous impostor
in that art, had been brought over from Flanders by
James; and he and Schevez, the archbishop of St An¬
drew’s, concurred in persuading James that the Scotch
lion was to be devoured by his own whelps ; a predic¬
tion that, to a prince of James’s turn, amounted to a
certainty.
The condition to which James reduced h imself by his
belief in judicial astrology, was truly deplorable. The
princes on the continent were smitten with the same in¬
fatuation ; and the wretches who besieged his person
had no safety but by continuing the delusion in his
mind. According to Lindsay, Cochran, who had some
knowledge of architecture, and had been introduced to
James as a master-mason, privately procured an old wo-
2 man who pretended to be a witch, and who heighten-
the n»’s e(* terrors by declaring that his brother intended to
bre "/the murder him. James believed her ; and the unguarded
ear 'Mar. manner in which the earl of Mar treated his weakness,
exasperated him so much, that the earl giving a farther
loose to his tongue in railing against his brother’s un¬
worthy favourites, was arrested, and committed to the
castle of Craigmillar; from which he was brought to
the Canongate, a suburb of Edinburgh, where he suf-
3 fered death.
Di of The duke of Albany was at the castle of Dunbar
A1 ry ar- when his brother the earl of Mar’s tragedy wras acted ;
;i; ut and James could not be easy without having him like¬
wise in his power. In hope of surprising him, he
marched to Dunbar : but the duke, being apprised of
his coming, fled to Berwick, and ordered his castle of
Dunbar to be surendered to the lord Evendale, though
not before the garrison had provided themselves with
boats and small vessels, in which they escaped to Eng¬
land. He ventured to come to Edinburgh ; where
James was so well served with spies, that he was seized
and committed close prisoner to the castle, with orders
that he should speak with none but in the presence of
his keepers. The duke had probably suspected and
provided against this disagreeable event; for we are
told that he had agents, who every day repaired to the
AND. 653
castle, as if they had come from court, and reported Scotland,
the state of matters between him and the king, while —v"—"'
his keepers were present, in so favourable a light, that
they made no doubt of his soon regaining his liberty,
and being readmitted to his brother’s favour. The
seeming negociation, at last, wrent on so prosperously,
that the duke gave his keepers a kind of a farewell en¬
tertainment, previous to his obtaining a formal deliver¬
ance ; and they drank so immoderately, that being in¬
toxicated, they gave him an opportunity of escaping
over the castle wall, by converting the sheets of his bed
into a x’ope. Whoever knows the situation of that for¬
tress, must be amazed at the boldness of this attempt ;
and we are told that the duke’s valet, the only domes¬
tic whom he was allowed, making the experiment be¬
fore his master, broke his neck : on which the duke,
lengthening the rope, slid down unhurt; and carrying
his servant on his back to a place of safety, he went on
board a ship which his friends had provided, and esca¬
ped to France.
In 1482, the king began to feel the bad consequen- An. M82A
ces of taking into his favour men of worthless cha¬
racters, which seems to have been one of this prince’s 354
chief foibles. His great favourite at this time was Cochran,
Cochran, whom he had raised to the dignity of earl of^^'jJS 3
Mar. All historians agree that this man made a uxost y0urjtei"
infamous use of his power. He obtained at last a li¬
berty of coinage, which he abused so much as to en¬
danger an insurrection among the poor people : for he
issued a base coin, called black money by the common
people, which they refused to take in payments. This
favourite’s skill in architecture had first introduced him
to James; but he maintained his power by other arts :
for knowing that his master’s predominant passion was
the love of money, he procured it by the meanest and
most oppressive methods. James, however, was inclin¬
ed to have relieved his people by calling in Cochran’s
money; but he was diverted from that resolution,
by considering that it would be agreeable to his old
nobility. Besides Cochran, James had other favour¬
ites whose professions rendered them still less worthy
of the royal countenance; James Hommil a taylor,
Leonard a blacksmith, Torfifan a dancing master, and
some others. The favour shown to these men gave so
much offence to the nobility, that after some delibera¬
tion, they resolved to remove the king, with some of his
least exceptionable domestics (but without offering any
violence to his person) to the castle of Edinburgh : bufe
to hang all his worthless favourites over Lawder-bridge,
then the common place ofexecution. Their deliberation
was not kept so secret but that it reached the ears of the
favourites; who, suspecting the worst, awakened James
before day-break and informed him of the meeting.
He ordered Cochran to repair to it, and to bring him
an account of its proceedings, (l). According to Lind-
say*
(l) Lindsay’s description of this upstart’s magnificence is very particular, and may serve to give the reader an
idea of the finery of that age. “ Cochran (saya he), the earl of Mar, came from the king to the council (which
council was holden in the kirk of Lawder for the time), who was well accompanied with a band of men of war to
the number of 300 light axes, all clad in white livery, and black bends thereon, that they might be known for
Cochran the earl of Mar’s men. Himself was clad in a riding-pie of black velvet, with a great chain of gold about
his neck, to the value of 500 crowns ; and four blowing horns, with both the ends of gold and silk, set with pre¬
cious stones. His horn was tipped with fine gold at every end, and a precious stone, called a beryl, hanging ,
in .
65-1
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
say, who seems to have had very minute information as
to this event, Cochran rudely knocked at the door of
He Seizedt!ie church> J'ust after tlie assembly had finished their
and put to consultation; and upon Sir Robert Douglas of Loch-
death, leven (who was appointed to watch the door) inform¬
ing them that the earl of Mar demanded admittance,
the earl of Angus ordered the door to be thrown open ;
and rushing upon Cochran, he pulled a massy gold
chain from his neck, saying, that a rope would become
him better ; while Sir Robert Douglas stripped him of
a costly blowing horn he wore by his side, as was the
manner of the times, telling him he had been too long
the hunter of mischief. Cochran, with astonishment,
asked them whether they were in jest or earnest; but
they soon convinced him they were in earnest, by pi¬
nioning dowm his arms with a common halter, till he
should be carried to execution.
356 Die earl of Angus, with some of the chief lords, at-
od’ers tended by a detachment of troops, then repaired to
xvountef * ^lle ^*nS's tent, where they seized his other favourites,
Thomas Preston, Sir William Rogers, James Hommil,
William Torfifan, and Leonard: and upbraided James
himself, in very rude terms, with his misconduct in go¬
vernment, and even in private life, in not only being
counselled by the above minions, but for keeping com¬
pany with a lady who was called the Daisy. We know
of no resistance made by James. He only interceded
for the safety of a young gentleman, one John Ramsay
of Balmain. Cochran, with Itis other worthless fa¬
vourites, wrere hanged over Lawder-bridge before his
357 eyes: and he himself was conducted, under an easy
James con- restraint, to the castle of Edinburgh.
casdeJofthe dames, though confined, behaved with great spirit;
Edinburgh. and even refused to pardon those who had confined
558 him, or who had any hand in the execution at Law'-
Itelieved der. At last, however, he was relieved by the duke
ofAlVauV Albany, who, at the queen’s desire, undertook to
deliver her husband from confinement. This he ac¬
complished, as some sajg by surprising the castle of
Edinburgh ; though, according to others, the gates
W’ere opened, on a formal requisition made for that
purpose by two heralds at arms. After he had obtain¬
ed his liberty, the king repaired to the abbey of Holy-
roodhouse w ith his brother, who now acted as his first
minister. All the lords who wrere near the capital came
to pay him their compliments ; hut James w7assomuch
exasperated at what had happened, that he committed
16 Oi them prisoners to the castle of Edinburgh. Af¬
ter his release, James granted a patent to the citizens
ol Edinburgh, and enlarged their privileges.
In 1187, James finished some secret negociations in
which he had been for some time engaged with Henry
with Hen- VTI. king of England. The principal articles agreed
ry vii of 0I1 between the twyo monarchs were, That king James’s
ngland. secont| son should marry Catherine the third daughter
of Edward IV. and sister to the princess Elizabeth,
now queen of England ; and that James himself, who
was now a widower, should marry queen Elizabeth.
A third marriage was also to be concluded between the
359
Secret ne-
gocian’ons
duke of Rothesay and another daughter of Edward IV. Scotland.
That in order to these treaties, and for ending all con- —
troversies concerning‘the town of Berwick, which the
king of Scotland desired so much to possess, a congress
should be held the ensuing year.
But in the mean time, a most powerful confederacy A powerfu
was formed against the king; the origin of which was coUJ«lera.
as follows : James was a great patron of architecture
and being pleased with the situation of Stirling castle, kuig,
he resolved to give it all the embellishments which that
art could bestow7; and about this time he made it the
chief place of his residence. He raised within it a
hall, which at that time w'as deemed a noble structure ;
and a college which he called the chapel-royal. This
college was endowed with an archdean who was a bi¬
shop, a subdean, a treasurer, a chanter and subchanter,
with a double set of other officers usually belonging to
such institutions. The expenses necessary for maintain¬
ing these were considerable, and the king had resolved
to assign the revenues of the rich priory of Coldingham
to that purpose. This priory had been generally held
by one of the name of Hume ; and that family, through
length of time, considered it as their property: they
therefore strongly opposed the king’s intention. The
dispute seems to have lasted for some years; for the for¬
mer parliament had passed a vote, annexing the priory
to the king’s ehapel-royal; and the parliament of this
year had passed a statute, strictly forbidding all persons, 36l
spiritual and temporal, to attempt any thing, directly or owingt9
indirectly, contrary or prejudicial to the said union and a quarrel
annexation. The Humes resented their being stripped 'vith tlie
of so gainful a revenue, the loss of wrhich affected most
of the gentlemen of that name; and they united them¬
selves with the Hepburns, another powerful clan in
that neighbourhood, under the lord Hales. An associ¬
ation was soon formed ; by which both families engaged
to stand by each other, and not to suffer any prior to
he received for Coldingham, if he was not of one of
their surnames. The lords Gray and Drummond soon
joined the association; as did many other noblemen and
gentlemen, who had their particular causes of discon¬
tent. Their agents gave out, that the king was grasp¬
ing at arbitrary power ; that he had acquired his po¬
pularity by deep hypocrisy; and that he was resolved
to he signally revenged on all who had any hand in the
execution at Lawder. The earl of Angus, who was
the soul of the confederacy, advised the conspirators
to apply to the old earl of Douglas to head them : hut
that nobleman was now dead to all ambition, and instead
of encouraging the conspirators, he pathetically exhort¬
ed them to break off all their rebellious connexions, and
return to their duty ; expressing the most sincere con¬
trition for his own past conduct. Finding he could not
prevail with him, he wrote to all the numerous friends
and descendants-of his family and particularly to Dou¬
glas of Cavers, sheriff' of Teviotdale, dissuading them
from entil ing into the conspiracy ; and some of his ori¬
ginal letters to that effect are said to be still extant.
That great man survived this application but a short
time;
the midst. This Cochran had his heumont borne before him, overgilt with gold ; so were all the rest of his
horns ; and all his pallions (pavilions or tents! were of fine canvas of silk, and the cords thereof fine twined
silk; and the chains upon his pallions were double overgilt with gold. ”
Sc wd.
Ex1 :tion
of t
prii >al
bra: i of
the nily
of I iglas.
An, -18.
Pu ani-
moi >eha'
vioi af
Jai
fss it de-
£an by
the ispi.
rate
SCOT
time; for he died without issue at Lindores, on the ] 5th
of April 1488; and in him ended the first branch of
that noble and illustrious house. He was remarkable
for being the most learned of all the Scots nobility, and
for the comeliness of his person.
James appears to have been no stranger to the pro¬
ceedings of the conspirators ; but though he dreaded
them, he depended on the protection of the law, as they
did on his pusillanimity. His degeneracy in this respect
is remarkable. Descended from a race of heroes, he
was the first of his family who had been branded with
cowardice. But his conduct at this time fully justifies
the charge. Instead of vigorously supporting the exe¬
cution of the lawrs in his own person, he shut himself up
in his beloved castle of Stirling, and raised a body
guard; the command of which he gave to the lord
Bothwel, master of his household. He likewise issued
a proclamation, forbidding any person in arms to ap¬
proach the court; and Bothwel had a warrant to see
the same put in execution. Though the king’s pro¬
ceedings in all this were perfectly agreeable to law, yet
they were given out by his enemies as so many indica¬
tions of his aversion to the nobility, and served only to
induce them to parade, armed, about the country in
more numerous bodies.
The connexions entered into by James with Henry
VII. of England, alarmed the conspirators, and made
them resolve to strike the greatblow,before James could
avail himself of an alliance that seemed to place him
above all opposition either abroad or at home. The
acquisition of Berwick to the crown of Scotland, which
was looked on to be as good as concluded ; the mar¬
riage of the duke of Rothesay with the daughter of the
dow ager and sister to the consort queen of England;
and, above all, the strict harmony which reigned be¬
tween James and the states of his kingdom, rendered
the conspirators in a manner desperate. Besides the earl
of Angus, the earls of Argyle and Lenox favoured the
conspirators. When the whole of James’s convention
with England is considered, and compared with after¬
events, nothing can be more plain, than that the suc¬
cess of the conspirators was owing to his English con¬
nexions ; and that they made use of them to affirm,
that Scotland was soon to become a province of Eng¬
land, and that James intended to govern his subjects by
an English force.—Those specious allegations did the
conspirators great service, and inclined many, even of
the moderate party, to their cause. They soon took
the field, appointed their rendezvouses, and all the south
of Scotland was in arms. James continued to rely on
the authority of his parliament; and summoned, in the
terms of law, the insurgents to answer at the proper
tribunals for their repeated breaches of the peace.
The conspirators, far from paying any regard to his
citations, tore tliem in pieces, buffeted and otherwise
maltreated the messengers, and set the laws of their
country at open defiance. Even north of the Forth the
heads of the houses of Gray and Drummond spread the
spirit of disaffection through the populous counties of
Fife and Angus ; but the counties north of the Gram¬
pians continued firm in their duty.
The duke ol Rothesay wras then a promising youth
about fifteen years of age ; and the subjecting the
kingdom of Scotland to that of England being the
chief, if not the only, cause urged by the rebels, for
LAND.
655
their appearing in arms they naturally threw their eyes Scotland,
upon that prince, as his appearance at their head would —
give strength and vigour to their cause; and in this
they were not deceived. James, in the mean time, find¬
ing the inhabitants of the southern provinces either
were engaged in the rebellion, or at best observed a
cold neutrality, embarked on board a vessel which was
then lying in the frith of Forth, and passed to tire
north of that river, not finding it safe to go by land to
Stirling. Arriving at the castle, he gave orders that the The duke
duke of Rothesay (as if foreseeing what af terwards hap- °f Kothe-
pened) should be put under the care of one Schaw ofsay2ut,nt<>
Sauchie, whom he had made its governor, charging him meiU>
not to suffer the prince on any account to depart out
of the fort. The rebels giving out that James had fled
to Flanders, plundered his equipages and baggage be¬
fore they passed the Forth ; and they there found a
large sum of money, which proved to be of the utmost ^66
consequence to their affairs. They then surprised the Success of
castle of Dunbar, and plundered the houses of every dw rebels*
man to the south of the Forth whom they suspected to
be a royalist.
James was all this time making a progress, and
holding courts of justice, in the north, where the
great families were entirely devoted to his service, par¬
ticularly the earls of Huntly, Errol, and Marshal 
Every day brought him fresh alarms from the south,
which left him uo farther room either for delay or deli¬
beration. The conspirators, notwithstanding the pro¬
mising appearance of their affairs, found, that in a short
time their causemust languish, and their numbersdwin-
dle, unless they were furnished with fresh pretexts, and
headed by a person of the greatest authority. While
they were deliberating who that person should be, the
earl of of Angus boldy proposed the duke of Rothesay
and an immediate application was made to Schaw, the:
young prince’s governor, who secretly favoured their ^67
cause, and was prevailed on by a considerable sum of They are
money to put the prince into their hands, and’ to fle-’1,6^^,hy
clare for the rebels. Rothesay.
James having ordered all the force in the north to as¬
semble, hurried to Perth (then called St John’s town)y
where he appointed the rendezvous of his army, which'
amounted to 80,000 men. Among the other noblemen.-
who attended him was the famous lord David Lindsay
of the Byres (an officer of great courage and expe¬
rience, having long served in foreign countries), who;
headed 8000 foot and 1000 horse, raised chiefly in.
Fifeshire. Upon his approaching the k ng’s person, her
presented him with a horse of remarkable spirit and>
beauty, and informed his majesty, that he might trust,
his life to his agility and sure-looted ness- The lord
Ruthven, who was sheriff of Strathern, and ancestor-
(if wre mistake not) to the unfortunate earls of Gowrie,
joined James at the head of 3000 well armed men.—
The whole army being assembled, James proceeded ter Jamas as-
Stirling ; but he was astonished, when he was not only sembles ^
denied entrance into the castle, but saw; the guns point-aimy'
ed against his person, and understood,for the first time,
that his son was at the head of the rebels. Sehaw pre¬
tended that the duke of Rothesay had been carried off
against his will: but the kings answer was, “ Eye*
traitor, thou hast deceived me ; and if I live I shaii be
revenged on thee, and thou shalt be rewarded as thou,
hast deserved.” James lay that night in the town of
Stirling^
656
SCOTLAND.
Scotland. Stirling, where he was joined by all his army ; and un-
'■■■■"V"—*' derstanding that the rebels were advancing, he formed
his line of battle. The earl of Athol his uncle, who
was trusted by both parties, proposed an accommoda¬
tion ; which was accordingly effected, if we are to be¬
lieve Abercromby and other historians; but we know
not the terms, for none are mentioned on either side.—
James is said to have failed on his part; but had there
been any grounds for such a charge against him, there
can scarcely be a doubt that the rebels would have
published them. That a treaty was entered into is past
dispute; and the earl of Athol surrendered himself as
a hostage into the hands of the rebels.
James was sensible of the advantage which public
clamour gave to his enemies ; and he applied to the
kings of France and England, and the pope, for their
interposition. His holiness named Adrian de Gastello
for his nuncio oil that occasion ; and the two kings
threatened to raise troops for the service of James.—
He, by a fatality not uncommon to weak princes, left
the strong castle of Edinburgh, where he might have
been in safety, till his friends, who had dispersed them¬
selves upon the faith of the late negociation, could be
reassembled ; and crossing the Forth, he made another
attempt to be admitted into the castle of Stirling ; but
was disappointed, and informed that the rebels were at
Torwood in the neighbourhood, and ready to give him
battle. He was in possession of the castle of Black¬
ness ; his admiral, Wood, commanded the Forth ; and
his loyal subjects in the north were upon their march to
join him. Hawthornden says, that the rebels had made
a show of dismissing their troops, that they might draw
James into the field ; and that while he remained at
Blackness, he was attended by the earls of Montrose,
Glencairn, and the lords Maxwell and Ruthven. To
369 give his northern troops time to join him, he proposed
Is requireda, negOCiation ; but that was soon at an end, on the
bdfto re" re^e^s peremptorily requiring him to resign his crown
sign his f° ^'s son5 or father to themselves.
crown. The rebels had been inured to war. They consisted
chiefly of borderers, w'ell armed and disciplined ; in
which they had the advantage of the king’s Lowland
subjects, who had not been accustomed to arms. What
the numbers on both sides were does not clearly ap¬
pear ; but it is probable that the forces of James were
superior to the rebels. They were then at Falkirk ;
but they soon passed the Carron, encamped above the
bridge near Torwood, and made such dispositions as
rendered a battle unavoidable, unless James would have
dispersed his army, and gone on board Wood’s ships :
370 but he did not know himself, and resolved on a battle.
Comes to aHe was encamped at a small brook named Sauchie-burn,
dieaf with near the same spot of ground where the great Bruce
had defeated the English under Edward the Second.
The earl of Menteith, the lords Erskine, Graham,
liuthven, and Maxwell, commanded the first line of the
king’s army. The second was commanded by the earl
of Glencairn, who was at the head of the Westland and
Highland men. The earl of Crawford, with the lord
Boyd and Lindsay of Byres, commanded the rear,
wherein the king’s main strength consisted, and where
he himself appeared in person, completely armed, and
mounted upon the fine horse which had been present¬
ed to him by Lindsay.
The first line of the royalists obliged that of the re¬
bels to give way ; but the latter being supported by Scotlani
the Annandale men and borderers, the first and second1—va¬
line of the king’s army were beat back to the third. 371
The little courage James possessed had forsaken him at^andoi!s
the first onset; and he had put spurs to his horse, in-andfiiel
tending to gain the banks of the Forth, and to go on
board one of Wood’s ships. In passing through the
village of Bannockburn, a woman who was filling her
pitcher at the brook, frightened at the sight of a man in
armour galloping full speed left it behind her ; and the 373
horse taking fright, the king was thrown to the ground, Is thrown
and carried, bruised and maimed, by a miller and his wife,from his
into their hovel. He immediately called for a priest toj^j’j^
make his confession; and the rustics demanding his 11thJune
name and rank, “ I was (said he incautiously) your An. 1488.
king this morning. ” The woman, overcome with as¬
tonishment, clapped her hands, and running to the door
called for a priest to confess the king. “ I am a priest
(said one passing by), lead me to his majesty. ” Be¬
ing introduced into the hovel, he saw the king covered
wdth a coarse cloth ; and kneeling by him, he asked
James whether he thought he could recover, if properly
attended by physicians ? James answering in the affir¬
mative, the villain pulled out a dagger, and stabbed
him to the heart. Such is the dark account we are able
to give of this prince’s unhappy end. The name of the
person who murdered him is said to have been Sir An¬
drew Borthwick, a priest, one of the pope’s knights.
Some pretend that the lord Gray, and others that Ro¬
bert Stirling of Keir, was the regicide; and even Bu¬
chanan (the tenor of whose history is a justification of
this murder), is uncertain as to the name of the person
who gave him the fatal blow.
It is probable that the royalists lost the battle through
the cowardice of James. Even after his flight his troops
fought bravely; but they were damped on receiving
the certain accounts of his death. The prince, young
as he was, had an idea of the unnatural part he was act¬
ing, and before the battle he had given a strict charge
for the safety of his father’s person. Upon hearing that
he had retired from the field, he sent orders that none
should pursue him; but they were ineffectual, the re¬
bels being sensible that they could have no safety but in
the king’s death. When that was certified, hostilities
seemed to cease ; nor were the royalists pursued. The
number of slain on both sides is uncertain ; but it must
have been considerable, as the earl of Glencairn, the
lords Sempil, Erskine, and Ruthven, and other gentle- 573
men of great eminence, are mentioned. As to the Grief of hi
duke of Rothesay, who was now king, he appeared in¬
consolable when he heard of his father’s death; but
the rebels endeavoured to efface his grief, by the pro¬
fusion of honours they paid him when he was recog¬
nised as king.
The remorse and anguish of the young king, on re¬
flecting upon the unnatural part which he had acted,
was inexpressible; and the noblemen who had been
engaged in the rebellion became apprehensive for
their own safety. The catastrophe of the unfortunate
James III., however, was not yet become public ; and
it was thought by many that he had gone aboard one
of the ships belonging to the Scottish admiral Sir An¬
drew Wood. James, willing to indulge hope as long as
it was possible, desired an interview with the admiral;
but tbe latter refused to come on shore, unless he had
2 sufficient
son for hi*
death.
SCOTLAND.
g land, sufficienthostagesfor his safety. These being delivered,
^ ; Sir Andrew waited on the king at Leith. He had
'4be again and again, by messages,assured him that he knew
ha ur of nothing of the late king; and he had even offered to al-
Sii ndrew low his ships to be searched : yet such was the anxiety
W h of the new king, that he could not be satisfied till he
had examined him in person. Young James had been
long a stranger to his father, so that he could not have
distinguished him easily from others. When Wood,
therefore, entered the room, being struck with his no¬
ble appearance, he asked him, “ Are you my father ? ”
“ I am not, ” replied Wood, bursting into tears ; “ but
I was your father’s true servant, and while I live I
shall be the determined enemy of his murderers.” This
did not satisfy the lords, who demanded whether he
knew where the king was. The admiral replied, that
he knew not; and upon their questioning him concern¬
ing his manoeuvres on the day of battle, when his boats
were seen plying backwards and forwards, he told them,
that he and his brother haddetermined to assisttheking
in person ; but all they could do was to save some of
the royalists in their ships. “ I would to God, (says
he), my king was there safely, for I would defend and
keep him skaithlessfrom all the traitors who have cruel¬
ly murdered him : for I think to see the day to behold
them hanged and drawn for their demerits. ” This
spirited declaration, and the freedom with which it was
delivered, struck the guilty part of the council with dis¬
may ; but the fear of sacrificing the hostages procured
Wood his freedom, and he was suffered to depart to his
ships. When he came on board, he found his brother
preparing to hang the two lords who had been left as
hostages ; which would certainly have been their fate,
had the admiral been longer detained.
Wood had scarcely reached his ships, when the lords,
calling the inhabitants of Leith together, offered them
a large premium if they would fit out a sufficient force
to destroy that bold pirate and his crew, as they called
Wood; but the townsmen, who, it seems, did not
much relish the service, replied, that Wood’s ships were
a match for any ten ships that could be fitted out in
Scotland. The council then removed to Edinburgh,
where James IV. was crowned on the 24th of June 1488.
R :w of If we were to form an opinion of the manners of
tbi ign of these times from the statutes enacted by the Scottish
3 s parliament during the reign of James III, we should
suppose them to have been more refined than is evinced
by the actions which we have just related. By those
statutes the rights of the church were again confirmed,
yet we have seen, from events, how little effect religion
had produced on the morals of the age. One of the
first acts of this reign was, to give the king the right of
presentation to all benefices of ecclesiastical patronage,
while the episcopal sees were vacant. The king was
empowered io hold plea of any matter personally, at his
empleasance, as it was wont to be of before. The par¬
liament again delegated to a few of its members the
whole legislative power; yet was it not felt in that age,
as begetting contempt, and consequently disobedience.
The leges burgorum were declared to be part of the
law, and the books of regiam majestatem were called his
majesty's laws. In these declarations we maj' perceive
that the legislators of those times were not very accurate
antiquaries, yet did the estates display a just anxiety for
the preservation of their rolls and registers, by directing
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
/*»
DO <
that they should be entered in books. With an allu- Scotland,
sion, perhaps, to the atrocities of that period, the threev—-*
estates declared thatmurder andassassinations were not
to be entitled to sanctuary. During this terrible reign,
the parliament displayed more zeal than knowledge for
promoting the agriculture and fishery, and for regula¬
ting the trade, coinage, and shipping of a people who
still wanted credit, capital, and circulation, for the en¬
joyment of an active and profitable commerce. The
legislative acts of this reign show, to an inquisitive eye,
some progress towards civilization, though the history
of its political events attests that there had been little
improvement in the morality of the national character,
or in the refinements of domestic life. 376
In the month of October this year, the nobility and The regU
others who had been present at the king’s coronation, «des as-
converted themselves into a parliament, and passed an sem^e a
act by which they were indemnified for their rebellion par ianKU ”
against their late sovereign ; after which, they ordered
the act to be exemplified under the great seal of Scot¬
land, that it might be producible in their justification if
called for by any foreign prince. They next proceeded
to the arduous task of vindicating their rebellion in the
eyes of the public ; and so far did they gain on the
king by force of flattery, that he consented to summon
the lords who had taken part with his father, before „77
the parliament, to answer for their conduct. In conse- Trial of
quence of this, not fewer than 28 lords were cited to Lord Da-
appear at Edinburgh in the space of 40 days. The Vltl Lindsay
first on the list was the lord David Lindsay, whoseof JBjles ’
form of arraignment was as follows. “ Lord David
Lindsay of the Byres, answer for the cruel coming
against the king at Bannockburn with his father, giving
him counsel to have devoured the king’s grace here pre¬
sent ; and, to that effect, gave him a sword and a good
horse, to fortify him against his son. Your answer
hereto. ” Lord Lindsay was remarkable for the blunt¬
ness of his conversation and the freedom of his senti¬
ments; and being irritated by this charge, he delivered
himself in such a manner concerning the treason of the
rebellious lords, as abashed the boldest of his accusers.
As they were unable to answer him, all they could do
was to press him to throw himself on the king’s cle¬
mency ; which he refused, as being guilty of no crime.
His brother, Patrick Lindsay, undertook to be his ad¬
vocate, and apologized on his knees for the roughness of
his behaviour, and at last observed an informality in the
proceedings of the court; in consequence of which
Lindsay was released, on entering into recognisance to 578
appear again at an appointed day ; but he was alter- Who is inu
wards sent prisoner by the king’s order, for a whole PriSO):ietk
year, to the castle of Rothesay in the isle of Bute.
The regicides now endeavoured to gain the public
favour by affecting a strict administration of justice.
The king was advised to make a progress round the
kingdom, attended by his council and judges ; while, jhe new
in the mean time, certain noblemen and gentlemen were parliament
appointed to exercise justice, and to suppress all kinds of affects po~
disorders in their own lands and in those adjoining to Pularlty*
them, till the king came to the age of 21. The me¬
mory of the late king was branded in the most oppro¬
brious manner. All justices, sheriffs, and stewards, who
were possessed of heritable offices, but who had taken
up anus for the late king, were either deprived of them
for three years, or rendered incapable of enjoying them
f 4 0 for
658
SCOTLAND.
Scotland. for e-ver after. All the young nobility who had been
'•'v   disinherited by their fathers for taking arms against the
late king, were, by act of parliament, restored to their
several successions in the most ample manner. At last,
in order to give a kind of proof to the world that they
intended only to resettle the state of the nation, without
prejudice to the lower ranks of subjects, who did no
more than follow the examples of their superiors, it was
enacted, “ That all goods and effects taken from bur¬
gesses, merchants, and those who had only personal
estates, or, as they are called, ur,landed men, since the
battle of Stirling, were not only to be restored, but the
owners were to be indemnified for their losses ; and
their persons, if in custody, were to be set at liberty.
Churchmen, who were taken in arms, were to be de¬
livered over to their ordinances, to be dealt with by
them according to the law. ” The castle of Dunbar
was ordered to be demolished ; and some statutes were
enacted in favour of commerce, and for the exclusion
of foreigners.
These last acts were passed with a view to recom¬
pense the boroughs, who had been very active in their
opposition to the late king. Before they dissolved their
parliament, the lords thought it necessary to give some
public testimony of their disapproving the late king’s
380 connexion with England;. It was therefore enacted,
Act rela- “ That as the king was now of an age to marry a
ove to the noble princess, born and descended of a noble and ivor-
ria'o!^mar"shipj'ul house, an honourable embassy should be sent to
the realms of France, Brittany, Spain, and other places,
in order to conclude the matter ” This embassy was
to be very splendid. It was to consist of a bishop, an
earl, or lord of parliament, a secretary, who was gene¬
rally a clergyman, and a knight. They were to be at¬
tended by 50 horsemen ; 5000^. was to be allowed
them for the discharge of their, embassy, and they were
empowered to renew the ancient league between France
and Scotland ; and, in the mean time, a herald, or, as
he was called, a irusty squire, was sent abroad to visit
the several courts of Europe, in order to find out a pro-
381 per match for the king. • One considerable obstacle,
They are however, lay in the way of this embassy. The pope
opposed by had laid under an interdict all those who had appeared
arms against the late king; and the party who mow
governed in Scotland were regarded by all the powers
of Europe as rebels and murderers. The embassy was
therefore suspended for a considerable time ; for it was
not till the year 1491 that the pope could be prevailed
on to take off the interdict, upon the most humble
submissions and professions of repentance made by the
guilty parties.
In the mean time, the many good qualities which
382 discovered themselves in the young king began to con-
Attempts ciliate the affections of his people to him. Being con-
to re-vaiige sijered' however, as little better than a prisoner in the
ti e death o' kan(js Qp his father’s murderers, several of the nobility
made use of that,as a pretence for taking arms. I he
most forward of these was the earl of Lenox, who with
2000 men attempted to surprise the town of Stirling ;
but, being betrayed by one of his own men, he was de¬
feated, taken unawares, and the castle of Dumbarton”,
of which he was the keeper, taken by the opposite
party. In the north, the earls Himtly and Marshal;
with the lord Forbes, complained that they had been
deceived, and declared their resolution, to revenge the
1.
late king’s death. Lord Forbes having procured the Scotland.
bloody shirt of the murdered prince, displayed it on the ' v—^
point of a lance, as a banner under which all loyal sub¬
jects should enlist themselves. After the defeat of Lenox,
however, the northern chieftains found themselves inca¬
pable of marching southwards, and were therefore obli-
ged to abandon their enterprise. The cause of the mur- Henry
dered king was next undertaken by Henry VII. of Eng- “ends
land, who made an offer to Sir Andrew Wood of five tjJllps
ships to revenge it. The admiral accepted the proposal; purpose-
but the English behaving as pirates, and plundering indi- *
scriminately all who came in their way, he thought pro¬
per to separate himself from them, yet without offering
to attack or oppose them. Upon this, James was advis¬
ed to send for the admiral, to offer him a pardon, and a
commission to act against the English freebooters, wim^t
Wood accepted the king’s offer ; and being w’ell pro- piraticaiiy,
vided with ammunition and artillery, he, wdth two ships and are all
only, attacked the five English vessels, all of which he ta^e11 by
took, and brought their crews prisoners to Leith, for ^yood^*
which he was nobly rewarded by his majesty.
This conduct of Wood was highly resented by the
king of England; who immediately vowed revenge.
The Scottish admiral’s ships had been fitted out for com¬
merce,- as well as war; and Henry commanded his best ^
sea officer, Sir Stephen Bull, to intercept him on his re- sir Stephen
turn from Flanders, whither he had gone upon a com- Bull sent
mercial voyage. Wood had not more than two ships a8ain.st,lie
with him : the English admiral had three ; and these
much larger, and carrying a greater weight of metal,
than the Scottish vessels. The English took their sta¬
tion at the island of May, in the mouth of the frith of
Forth, and, having come unawares upon their enemies,
fired two guns as a signal for their surrendering them--
selves. The Scottish commander-encouraged his men as
well as he could; and finding them determined to stand'
by him to the last, began the engagement in sight of
numberless spectators who appeared on both sides of the
frith. The fight continued all that day, and was renew¬
ed with redoubled fury in the morning; but in the mean
time the ebb-tide and a south wind had carried both
squadrons to the mouth of the Tay. Here the English
fought under great disadvantages, by reason of the sand¬
banks ; and before they could get clear of them, all the
three were obliged to submit to the Scots, who carried
them to Dundee. Wood treated his prisoners with great 38g
humanity ; and having afterwards presented them to Rllt ,-s
King James, the latter dismissed them not only without taken with
ransom, but with presents to the officers and crews, and all hls
a letter to King Flenry. To this Henry returned a bllll,s
polite answer, a truce was concluded, and all differ¬
ences for the present were accommodated;
James all this time had continued to display such An. 1450-
moderation in his government, and appeared to have
the advantage of his subjects so much at heart, that
they became gradually well affected-to his government;
and in 1490 all parties were fully reconciled. We
may hence date the commencement of the reign of
James IV.; and the next year the happiness of his
kingdom wras completed,- by taking off the pope’s in¬
terdict, and giving the king absolution for the concern
he had in his father’s death.
Tranquillity being thus restored, the negociations An. 1493-
concerning the king’s marriage began to take place, but
met with several interruptions. In 1493, Henry ML
proposed;
SCOT
! tlarnl. proposed a mateh between the king of Scotland and his
-v 1 cousin the princess Catherine. James was too much at¬
tached to France to be fond of English connexions, and
probably thought this match below his dignity; in con¬
sequence of which the proposal was treated with con-
;87 tempt. Notwithstanding this ill success, however,
> riage- Henry made another offer of alliance with James; and,
tr y with jn 14.95, proposed a marriage betwixt him and his eldest
A H9J daughter Margaret. This proposal was accepted: but
the match seems not to have been at all agreeable to
James;- for, at the very time in which he was negnei-
ating the marriage, he not only protected Perkin War-
beck, the avowed enemy and pretender to the crown of
Henry, but invaded England on his account. This
conduct wras highly resented by the English parliament;
but Henry himself forgave even this gross insult, and
the marriage negociations were once more resumed.
The bride was no more than ten years and six months
old ; and being only the fourth degree of blood from
James, it was necessary to procure a dispensation from
gg the pope. This being obtained, a treaty of perpetual
A m peace was concluded between the two nations, on the
jx 3 with jst 0f juiy 1503, being the first that had taken place
1505 ^or 170 years, since the peace of Northampton, con¬
cluded betu'een Robert I. and Edward III.
One of the great ends which Henry had in view in
promoting this marriage, was to detach James from the
French interest: no sooner, therefore, was the treaty
signed, than he wrote to his son-in-law to this purpose;
5g9 who, however, politely declined to break with his an-
R nifi- cient ally. On the 16th of June, the royal bride set
ci e of out from Richmond in Surrey, in company with her
tl oyal fatherj who gave her convoy as far as Colleweston,
0 Ja s* the residence of his mother the countess of Richmond.
After passing some days there, the king resigned his
daughter to the care of the earls of Surrey and Northum¬
berland, who proceeded with her to the borders of Scot¬
land. Here many of the company were permitted to
take their leave ; but those who remained still made
a royal appearance. At Lamberton church they were
met by James, attended by a numerous train of his no-
l a n d. em
biiity and officers of state. From Xambefton they pro- Scodaptf.
ceeded to Dalkeith, and next day to Edinburgh ; ■—-y—w
where the nuptials were celebrated with the greatest
splendour. On this occasion, it is said that the Scots
surpassed all their guests in extravagance and luxury;
a circumstance which must be imputed to the great
intercourse and commerce which James and his sub¬
jects maintained with foreign courts and countries. S;)0
After the celebration of the nuptials, James appears James ho-
to have enjoyed a tranquillity unknown almost to any comes a
of his predecessors; and began to make a considerable
figure among the European potentates. But the mag¬
nificence of his court and embassies, his liberality to
strangers and to learned men. his costly edifices, and,
above all, the large sums he laid out in ship-building,
had now brought him into some difficulties: and he so
far attended to the advice and example of his father-
in-law, that he supplied his necessities by reviving dor¬
mant penal laws, particularly with regard to wardships
and old titles of estates, by which he rai-ed large sums.
Though he did this without assembling his parliament,
yet he found agents who justified those proceedings, in
the same manner as Epsom and Dudley did those of
Henry, under the sanction of law. At last, however,
touched with the sufferings of his subjects, he ordered
all prosecutions to be stopped. He even went farther:
for, sensible of the detestation into which his father-in-
law’s avarice had brought himself and his administra¬
tion, he ordered the ministers who had advised him to
those shameful courses to be imprisoned ; and some
of them, who probably had exceeded their commis¬
sion, actually died in their confinement. 591
About this time, James applied himself, with incre- Applies
dible assiduity, to the building of ships; one of which, himself to
the St Michael, is supposed to have been the largest
then in the world (m). He worked with his own hand!?
in building it; and it is plain, from his conduct, that
he was aspiring to maritime power, in which he was
encouraged by the excellent seamen which Scotland
then produced. The first essay of his arms by sea was
in favour of his kingtpgn John King ef Denmark. This
^ O 2 prince
(m) Of this ship we have the following account by Lindsay of Pitscottie. “ In the same year, the king of
‘Scotland bigged a great ship, called the Great Michael, which was the greatest ship, and of most streng h, that
ever sailed in England or France. For this ship was of so great stature, and took so much timber, that, ex¬
cept Falkland, she wasted all the woods in Fife, which was oak wood, by all timber that was gotten out of
Norway ; for she was so strong, and of so great length and breadth (all the wrights of Scotland, yea, and many
other strangers, were at her device, by the king’s commandment, who wrought very busily in her ; but it was
a year and day ere she was complete); to wit, she was twelve score foot of length, and thirty-six foot within
the sides. She was ten foot thick in the wall, outted jests of oak in her wall, and boards on every side, so
stark and so thick, that no cannon could go through her. This great ship cumbered Scotland to get her to the
sea. From that time that she was afloat, and her masts and sails complete, with tows and anchors effeiring
thereto, she was counted to the king to be thirty thousand pounds of expenses, by her artillery, which was
very great and costly to the king, by ail the rest of her orders; to wit, she bare man_\ cannons, six on every side,
with three great bassils, two behind in her dock, and one before, with three hundred shot of small artillery,
that is to say, myand and battret-falcon, and quarter-falcon, slings, pestelent serpetens, and double-dogs, with hag-
tor and-culvering, cors-bows, and hand-bows. . She had three hundred mariners to sail her ; she had six scoie of
'gunners to use her artillery ; and had a thousand men of war, by her captain, shippers, and qua. ter-masteis.
“ When this ship past to the sea, and was lying in the road, the king gart shoot a cannon at her, to essay
her if she was wight; but I heard say, it deared her not, and did her little skaith. And if any man believe
that this description of the ship be net of verity, as we have written, let him pass to the gate of Tiilibardin,
and there, afore the same, ye will see the length and breadth of her, planted with hawthorn, by the wright
ihat helped to make her. As for other properties of her, Sir Andrew Wood is my author, who was quarter¬
master of her; and Robert Bartyne, who was master-shipper. ”
SCOTLAND.
660
Scotland, prince was brother to the queen dowager of Scotland;
'——'v—■—1 and had partly been called to the throne of Sweden, and
partly possessed it by force. He was opposed by the
administrator, Sture, whom he pardoned after he was
crowned. Sture, however, renewing his rebellion, and
the Norwegians revolting at the same time, John found
himself under such difficulties, that he was forced to re¬
turn to Denmark; but he left his queen in possession of
the castle of Stockholm, which she bravely defended
against Sture and the Swedes. This heroic princess be¬
came a great favourite with James; and several letters
that passed between them are still extant. The king of
Denmark, next to the French monarch, was the fa¬
vourite ally of James; who, early in his reign, had
compromised some differences between them. It like¬
wise appears, from the histories of the north, that both
James and his father had given great assistance to his
Danish majesty in reducing the Norwegians; and he
resolved to become a party in the war against the
Swedes, and the Lubeckers who assisted them, if the
former continued in their revolt. Previous to this, he
sent an ambassador to offer his mediation between John
and his subjects. The mediation was accordingly ac¬
cepted, and the negociations were opened at Calmar.
The deputies of Sweden not attending, John prevailed
with those of Denmark and Norway to pronounce sen¬
tence of forfeiture against Sture and all his adherents.
In the mean time, the siege of the castle of Stockholip
was so warmly pressed, that the garrison was dimi¬
nished to a handful, and those destitute of all kinds of
provisions; so that the brave queen was forced to ca¬
pitulate, and to surrender up the fortress, on condition
that she might be suffered to depart for Denmark;
but the capitulation was perfidiously broken by Sture,
592 and she was confined in a monastery.
James as- Jt was on occasion that James resolved to employ
inark^8”" ^‘s mar*t‘me power. He wrote a letter, conceived in
gainst Swe- strongest terms, to the archbishop of Upsal, the pri-
den. mate of Sweden, exhorting him to employ all his autho¬
rity in favour of the king; and another letter to the
Lubeckers, threatening to declare war against them, as
well as the Swedes, if they jointly continued to assist the
rebels. According to Hollinshed, James,in consequence
of King John’s application, gave the command of an
army of 10,000 men to the earl of Arran, who replaced
John upon his throne. Though this does not appear
to be strictly truth, yet it is certain, that, had it not
been for James, John must have sunk under the weight
of his enemies. Sture, whose arms had made great pro¬
gress, hearing that a considerable armament was fitting
out in Scotland, and knowing that James had prevailed
with the French king to assist John likewise, agreed to
release the queen, and to conduct her to the frontiers of
Denmark; where she died. By this time, James’s ar¬
mament, which was commanded by the earl of Arran,
had set sail; but perceiving that all matters were adjust¬
ed between John and the Swedes, the ships returned
sooner than James expected, “ which (says he, in a very
polite letter he wrote to the queen upon the occasion)
they durst not have done, had they not brought me an
account that her Danish majesty was in perfect health
and safety.” The severity of John having occasioned
a fresh revolt, James again sent a squadron to his as¬
sistance, which appeared before Stockholm, and ob¬
liged the. Lubeckers to conclude a new treaty,.
James, having thus honourably discharged his en- Scotland
gagements with his uncle the king of Denmark, turn-' v-—
ed his attention towards the Flemings and Hollanders, 39.3
who had insulted his flag, on account of the assistance
he had afforded the Duke of Gueldres, as well as from inland"
motives of rapaciousness, which distinguished those Hollan-
traders, who are said not only to have plundered theders’
Scots ships, but to have thrown their crews overboard
to conceal their villany. James gave the command of
a squadron to Barton; who put to sea, and, without
any ceremony, treated all the Dutch and Flemish tra¬
ders who fell into his hands as pirates, and sent their
heads in hogsheads to James. Soon after, Barton re¬
turned to Scotland, and brought with him a number of
rich prizes, which rendered his reputation as a sea¬
man famous all over Europe.—James was then so much
respected on the continent, that we know of no re¬
sentment shown either by the court of Spain, whose
subjects those Netherlanders were, or of any other
power in Europe, for this vigorous proceeding. 394
The peace with England continued all the remaining Cause of
part of the reign of Henry VIE; nor did his son Hen-quarrel
ry VIII., though he had not the same reason as his fa-Wltl1 ^nS'
ther to keep well with the Scots, for some time show an
any disposition to break with them. A breach, how¬
ever, at length took place, and was never afterwards
thoroughly made up.
About 30 years before, one John Barton (a relation,
probably, to the famous Barton) commanded a trading
vessel, which was taken by two Portuguese sea captains
in the port of Sluys; and the captain, with several
Scotchmen, were killed in endeavouring to defend their
property. The action was esteemed cowardly as well as
piratical, because it was done under the protection of a
large Portuguese squadron. The ship, and the remain¬
ing part of the crew, with the cargo, were carried to
Portugal, whence no redress could be obtained; and
James III. granted letters of marque to John and Ro¬
bert Bartons, heirs to the Barton who had been mur¬
dered. Upon the accession of James IV. to the crown
of Scotland, the letters of marque were recalled, and a
friendly correspondence was entered into between James
and his Portuguese majesty. No redress, however, was
to be had from the latter; and Robert Barton being
made prisoner, and his ship a prize, he was detained*
in Zealand, till James procured his deliverance, by ap¬
plying in his favour to the emperor Maximilian. Sir
Andrew Barton took part in the quarrel; and having
obtained a like letter of marque, he made dreadful de¬
predations on the Portuguese trade, and, according to.
English authors, he plundered many English ships, on
pretence of their carrying Portuguese property, and
made the navigation of the narrow seas dangerous to
Englishmen. The court of London received daily com¬
plaints of Barton’s depredations : but Henry being at
this time very averse to quarrel with James, these com¬
plaints were heard with great coldness at his council-
board. The earl of Surrey had then two sons, gallant
noblemen; and he declared to Henry’s face, that while
he had an estate that could furnish out a ship, or a son
who was capable of commanding one, the narrow seas
should not be infested. Henry could not discourage
this generous offer; and letters of marque were accoid-
ingly granted to the two young noblemen, Sir Thomas
and Sir Edward Howard. The prizes that.Barton had
taken.
SCOT
ijtland. taken liad rendered his ships immensely rich, conse-
^ v*— quently they were heavy laden, and unfit for fighting;
while we may easily suppose, that the ships of the How-
ards were clean, and of a superior force in every respect
to those of Barton. After encountering a great deal of
foul weather, Sir Thomas Howard came up with the
Lyon, which was commanded by Sir Andrew Barton
in person; and Sir Edward fell in with the Unicorn,
Barton’s other ship. The event was such as might be
expected from the inequality of the match. Sir An¬
drew Barton was killed, while he wras animating, with
his whistle, his men to hold out to the last; and both
the Scotch ships being taken, were carried in triumph
to London, with their crews prisoners.
James could never forgive Henry for the loss of his
brave officer. He sent to demand satisfaction ; but all
the answer he received was, that Barton and his crews
were lawless pirates, and that what had been done
against them ought never to have been resented a-
mongst sovereign princes. James asserted that Barton
was no pirate, because he bore his commission ; and
that he ought to have been convicted of piratical acts
before he was treated as being guilty of them. Henry
intimated to James, that he was willing to accommo¬
date the affair by way of negociation ; but James
595 thought himself affronted by the proposal.
J es re- Various negociations took place concerning this and
s sstom-Qther affairs till the year 1513; when James, though
] [ n^" he had for some time before been fully resolved on a
. 1515. war with England, thought it highly necessary that it
should have the sanction of his parliament, which he as¬
sembled for that purpose. The young nobility were
not only inspired with the sentiments of James, but
had been won over by the French; and the majority
of them, as well as of the clergy (which was somewhat
extraordinary, as James was, in effect, to fight against
the pope and his allies), were keen for a war with
England. The old counsellors, on the other hand,
who saw the flourishing state of Scotland, arising from
a long peace and commerce protected by a fleet, dread¬
ed the ruinous consequences of the war. The queen
naturally headed this party; and she was joined by
the earl of Angus and the wisest part of the nobility.
Their arguments made no impression upon James, who
had received a present from Louis of four ships laden
with wine and flour, and two ships of war completely
equipped, one of them carrying 34- pieces of brass
ordnance. He promised to the French queen, upon
his honour, that he would take the field against the
English; and she had sent him a fresh letter, gently
reproaching him for want of gallantry, and for not being
so good as his word. In short, the reasonings of the
wisest and best part of the nobility were overruled,
596 and the expedition against England was resolved on.
^2 Scots The earl of Hume, who was chamberlain of Scot-
''ated* land, was, at this juncture, at the head of 7000 or 8000
men, with whom he committed prodigious devastations
on the English borders. Henry’s queen, Catharine of
Spain, whom he had left regent of his dominions, issued
a commission of array, directed to Sir Thomas Lovel,
knight of the Garter, for assembling the militia of the
counties of Nottingham, Derby, Warwick, Leicester,
Stafford, Rutland, Northampton, and Lincoln. The
management of the war, however, was chiefly com-
snitted to the earl of. Surrey, who assembled the militia
3
LAND. 661
of Chester, Lancaster, Northumberland, Wcstmore- Scotland,
and, Cumberland, and the bishopric of Durham. The ’V'1—7
earl of Hume had by this time laid great part of Nor¬
thumberland waste; and his men were returning home
laden with booty. The earl of Surrey, resolving to
intercept them, ordered Sir William Bulmer to form
an ambush with 1000 archers, at a place called Broom-
house, which was extremely convenient for that pur¬
pose, as the Scots were obliged to pass that Way. As
the latter expected nothing of that kind, Bulmer ex¬
ecuted his orders with great successi The archers
assaulted the Scots all at once, and made so good use
of their arrows, that their main body was put to flight,
500 were killed, and 4-00 taken, with the lord Hume’s
standard, which he left on the field of battle ; the
greatest part of the plunder being recovered at the
same time. The commonalty of Scotland termed this
expedition of the lord Hume’s the III road. 597
James was more exasperated than ever by this de- The queen
feat, and continued his preparations for invading Eng-enc|favo^rs
land with additional vigour. His queen did all that j°
became a wise and prudent wife to divert him from his his design,
fatal purpose. She endeavoured to work on his su¬
perstition, by recounting to him her ominous dreams
and boding apprehensions. James treating these as
mere illusions and fictions of the brain, she had recourse
to other arts. While James was waiting at Linlith¬
gow for the arrival of his army from the north and the
Highlands, he assisted one afternoon at the vespers in
the church of St Michael. Being placed in one of the 398
canon’s seats, a venerable comely man, of about 52 A phantom
years of age, entered, dressed in a long garment of an j^ears to
azure colour, and girded round with a towel or roll
of linen, his forehead bald, and his yellow locks hang¬
ing down his shoulders ; in short, he was dressed and
formed to appear like St Andrew, the apostle of Scot¬
land, as he is represented in painting and sculpture.
The church being crowded, this personage, with some
difficulty, made his way to the king’s seat; and lean¬
ing over it, he spoke to the following purpose: “ Sir
(said he), I am sent hither to intreat you for this time
to delay your expedition, and to proceed no farther in
your intended journey ; for if you do, you shall not
prosper in your enterprise, nor any of your followers.
I am further charged to warn you, if ye be so refrac¬
tory as to go forward, not to use the acquaintance,
company, or counsel of women, as ye tender your
honour, life, and estate. ” After delivering these
words, he retired through the crowd, and was no
more seen, though, when the service was ended,
James earnestly inquired after him.
That this scene was acted, seems to be past dispute ;
for Sir David Lindsay, who was then a young man,
and present in the church, reported it both to Bucha¬
nan and Lindsay the historian. It is, however, equally
certain, that the whole was a contrivance of the queen,
to whose other afflictions the stings of jealousy were
now added. In one of the Scotch inroads into Eng- 399
land, one Heron, the proprietor of the castle of Ford, James de-
had been taken prisoner, and sent to Scotland ; where luded by
he was detained on a charge of murder, of which he hlsra^rvss,
seems to have been innocent. The English historians
mention this as having passed after James entered Eng^,
land : but from the latter part of the supposed phan¬
tom’s speech, it it probable that it happened before;.
and,
C62 SCOT
.Scotland, yjjj jltat Heron's ^vife and beautiful daughter had been
" r~— for some time soliciting James for his deliverance. Be
that as it may, it is too probable that James was smitten
with the charms of the daughter ; and that her mo¬
ther, who was a most artful woman, knew how to avail
lierseif of the conquest. Pretending that she had in¬
terest enough to procure the release of the lord Johnston
and Alexander Home, who were prisoners in England,
she was permitted by James to keep a constant corre¬
spondence with the earl of Surrey, to whom she is said
to have betrayed all James’s secrets and measures. The
rendezvous of James’s army was at the Burrow-moor,
to which James repaired; and having given orders for
the march of his artillery, he lodged at the abbey of
Holyroodhouse. While he was there, another at¬
tempt was made to divert him from his purpose of in¬
vading England : but James, deaf to all the solicita¬
tions and inventions of his queen, mustered his army;
and on the 22d of August he passed the Tweed, en¬
camping that night near the banks of the Twissel. On
his arrival at Twisselhaugh on the 14th, he called an
assembly of his lords together, and made a declaration,
that the heirs of all such as should die in the army, or
be killed by the enemy during his stay in England,
should have their wards, relief, and marriages of the
king; who, upon that ac count, dispensed with their
age. This is said to have been the crisis of that prince’s
fate. Abandoned to his passion for his English mis¬
tress, she prevailed with him, at her mother’s instiga¬
tion, to trifle away his time for some days ; during
which interval, the junction of the English army was
formed. The earl of Surrey, the English general, was
then at Pomfret: but ordered the landholders of the
neighbouring counties to certify to him in writing what
number of men each could furnish, charging them to
be ready at an hour’s warning ; and he laid his plan so
as rot to bring his army into the held till James had
advanced so far into England as to render it very dif¬
ficult for him to retire without a general battle. This
precaution assisted the iady Ford (as she is called) in
persuading James that there was no danger in the de¬
lay, because the English had not the face of an army
in the field.
In the mean time, the earl of Surrey ordered the go¬
vernors of Berwick and Norham, the two strongest
places on the frontiers of England, to prepare for a
vigorous resistance in case they were attacked ; and
directed them to certify how long they could hold out,
in hopes, that if they made a resolute defence, James
would march on, and leave them in his rear. The go¬
vernor of Norham’s answer was, that his castle was so
well provided, as to leave him no doubt, in case of a
400 siege> to be able to defend it till King Henry should
The Soots return from abroad, and relieve it in person. James,
take the however, besieged it on the 25th of August, and bat-
Norhanf tere^ it so furiously, that he took it by capitulation the
Etal, and sixth day after. James then proceeded to the castle of
Wark. Etal belonging to the family of Manners (now duke
of Rutland); which he took and demolished likewise, as
he also did Wark, and ar rived before the castle of Ford.
The Scotch army is generally allowed to have consisted
of at least 50,000 men when it passed the Tweed. At
this time it was encamped on the heights of Cheviot, in
the heart of a country naturally barren, and now deso-
iate through the precautions taken by the English ge-
L A N D.
neral. Being obliged to extend their quarters for the Scotland,
benefit of subsistence, the mercenary part of them had '—r—
acquired a considerable plunder, with which, as usual,
they retired to their own country, as many more did for
want of subsistence. The earl of Surrey knew their
situation, and ordered the rendezvous of his army, first
at Newcastle, and then near Norham, having certain in¬
telligence of the vast desertions daily happening in the
Scotch army, which had reduced it greatly. The wet¬
ness of the season rendered his march, especially that of
the artillery, extremely difficult; but being joined by
several persons of distinction, he marched on the Sd of
September to Alnwick, where he was reinforced by 5000
hardy veteran troops, sent from the English army on
the continent, under the command of his son the lord-
admiral of England ; so that, as the English authors
admit, his army consisted of 26,000 men, all complete¬
ly armed and provided for the field. James having, in
the manifesto which he dispersed on his entering Eng¬
land, given the death of Barton as one of the causes
of his invasion, the lord-admiral had prevailed with
Henry to send him upon this service ; and he informed
James by a letter, that he intended to justify the death
of that pirate in the front of the English army. 401
By this time the army of James was, by desertion james^
and other causes, reduced to less than half its numbers; gusts seve.
but the chief misfortune attending it was his own con-
duct. His indolence and inactivity, joined to the scan- nobllit>'•
dalous example of his amours, at such a season, had dis¬
gusted several of his greatest men and best friends; and
some of them more than suspected a correspondence be¬
tween the English lady and the earl of Surrey. James
was deaf to all their remonstrances; and the earl of
Angus declared, that he was resolved to return home,
as he foresaw that the ruin of the army was inevitable
through the obstinacy of James. He accordingly with¬
drew to Scotland, but left behind him his two sons.
The lord Hume and the earl of Huntly w'ere likewise
discontented. The former had brought his men into
the field; but according to some Scotch historians,
with a design rather to betray than to serve James ;
but Huntly, though he disliked his master’s conduct,
remained firmly attached to his person.
The defection or backwardness of those great men
seemed to make no impression upon James. He had
chosen a strong camp in the neighbourhood of Ford,
on the side of a mountain called Flodden-hill; and he
was separated from the English army by the river Till. ^
This advantageous situation put the earl of Surrey un- Encamps
der great difficulties ; for it rendered the Scotch army in an ad-
inaccessible, as it was fortified by artillery, and was now v.antaSe0,‘s
well supplied with provisions by the change of its situa- slluaU0D‘
tion. The earl drew up a manifesto, with which he
charged Rouge Croix herald, who was attended by a
trumpet. It contained some proposals for an exchange
of prisoners, which seems to have been calculated to give
the lady Ford the more credit with James; but con¬
cluded with reproaches for his perfidious invasion of
England, and a defiance to James to fight him in a ge¬
neral battle. The herald was farther charged with a
verbal commission to acquaint James, that the earl of
Surrey had issuedorders that no quarter should be given
to any of the Scotch army but the king himself.
A council of war was called on this occasion ; in
which the earl of Huntly and others made strong re¬
monstrances
SCOT
S< and monstrances against a general engagement. They
shewed how fatal it must be to Scotland, should it
prove unsuccessful; and that the wisest course James
could follow was to return home, where, if he was pur¬
sued by the enemy, he could fight to great advantage.
The earl of Huntly, however, added, that his opinion
should be determined by that of the king and coun¬
cil ; and that he was equally ready to share in his ma¬
jesty’s danger as his glory.
Huntly and the other noblemen were opposed by the
French ambassador, who represented a retreat as dis-
3 graceful to the nobility of Scotland and the arms of
Re ves James; and used many romantic arguments of the same
toi it kind, which but too well suited wdth the king’s disposi-
the i-yt° t’on* According to Drummond, the council were of
nio if all opinion that the king should immediately besiege Ber-
his cers. wick; but the majority of them declared that it was be¬
neath the dignity of James to fight the earl of Surrey at
that nobleman’s requisition, and that James could lose
no honour by returning home. Patrick Lord Lindsay
of Byres, mentioned on a former occasion, and who was
president of the council, expressed himself so strongly
on that head, that James, in a passion, is said by the
historian Lindsay to have sworn, that if ever he lived to
return to Scotland, he would hang that nobleman at his
own gate. He ordered Rouge Croix to be called in ; and
after treatinghimw ith great politeness,he sent a message
to the earl of Surrey by one of his own heralds (Islay),
importing, that he would give the English battle on the
Friday following; and that had he received such a mes¬
sage from the earl even in his own castle of Edinburgh,
he would have left that, and all other business, to fight
him. With this message, a small manifesto, in vindica¬
tion of James’s conduct, was sent by the same herald.
The earl of Surrey, who was then so infirm that he
was carried about in a sedan or chariot, had foreseen
that James would return an answer by one of his own
heralds; but, unwilling that he should obtain any
knowledge of the situation of the English camp, he
ordered proper persons to receive him at two miles di¬
stance, where soon after he attended himself in person..
Islay executed his commission, without paying much
respect to the person of the English general; who dis¬
missed him, after bestowing great compliments on the
honour and courage of James. The earl then ordered
his army to march in the line of battle towards Woller-
haugh. There he was joined by Rouge Croix, hisherald,
who gave him an account of the strong situation of the
Scottish camp ; but the advanced posts of the English
army,were then within threemiles of their enemies,and
the earl of Surrey found his difficulties daily increasing.
The roads were broken up, the swelling ot the rivers
cut him off from the necessary communications for sup¬
plying his army, and nothing but a battle could save
him either from being disbanded or destroyed.
James seems to have so far regarded the advice of his
wisest counsellors, as not to abandon his strong situation.
They endeavoured to persuade him, that it was a suf¬
ficient guard to his honour, if he did not decline the
battle on the day appointed ; and that his engagement
did not bind him to fight upon disadvantageous ground.
The Scots, at the same time, knew of their enemy’s di-
04 stresses; and, as Drummond elegantlyexpresses it, they
mpm- remonstrated to their king, that he lacked nothing but
con‘ patience to be victorious. The Scots thus lying on the
defensive, the earl of Surrey again sent Rouge Croix
A N D. 663'
to inform James that he was ready to give him battle. Scotland.
James was sensibly nettled at this tacit imputation on —
his honour, and perhaps was inwardly vexed at having
followed the wise advice of his noblemen. It appears,
from the best authorities, that he neglected the ne--
cessary precautions for guarding the passages of the
Till, which tbeEnglish crossed, partly at a place where
it was fordable, and partly at a bridge. We are toldJ,
not without great appearance of probability, that while
the English were passing the bridge, Borthwick, master
of the Scotch artillery, fell on his knees, and begged
permission from James to point his cannon against the
bridge; but that James answered him in a passion, that
it must be at the peril of his (Borthwick’s) head, and
that he was resolved to see all his enemies that day on
the plain before him in a body. The earl of Surrey, af¬
ter passing the Till, took possession of Braxton, which
lay to the right of the Scotch camp ; and by that situa¬
tion he cut off the communication of his enemies with
the Tweed, and commanded the Till belowEton-castle-
The Scotch generals saw themselves now in danger of
being reduced to the same straits in which their ene-
mieshadbeen involved two days before, and their coun¬
try open to an invasion of the Egnlish army. James
had secret intelligence that this was far from being the
intention of the English general; and imagining that
the latter’s intention was to take possession of a strong
camp upon a hill between him and the Tweed, which
would give the English a farther command of the coun¬
try, he resolved to be before-hand with the earl, and’
gave orders for making large fires of green wood, that
the smoke might cover his march along the height, to
take advantage of that eminence But while this stra¬
tagem concealed his march from the English, their
movements were concealed from him : for when he
came to the brow of the height over which he had
marched, he found the enemy drawn up in order of
battle on the plain, but so close to the height where
he was, that his artillery, on which his-great depen¬
dence was, must overshoot them. 405'
A battle was now not only unavoidable, but the only Account of.
means of saving the Scotch army, which was probably
far from being a disagreeable circumstance to James. gth Sep-
His person was so dear to his troops, that many of them tember.
dressed themselves as nearly as they could in the same An-
coats of armourand with thesamedistinctions that James
wore that day. His generals had earnestly desired him
to retire to a place of safety, where his person would be
secure in all events: but he obstinately refused to follow
their advice; and on the 9th of September, early in the
morning, dispositions vvere ordered for the line of battle.
The command of the van was allotted to the earl of
Huntly ; the earls of Lenox and Argyle commanded
the Highlanders under James, who, some say, served
only as a volunteer ; and the earls of Crawford and
Montrose led the body of reserve.. The earl of Surrey
gave the command of his van ta his son, the lord ad¬
miral; his right wing was commanded by his other son.
Sir Edward Howard ; and his left by Sir Marmaduke
Constable. The rear was commanded by the eari him¬
self, Lord Dacres, and Sir Edward Stanley. Under
those leaders served the flower of all the nobility and
gentry then in England Other writers give different
accounts of the disposition of the English arm} but they
may be reconciled by the different forms in.. \v!iin!
the battle was thrown before it was decided. The 1
664 SCOTLAND.
Scotland. Hume is mentioned as serving under the earls of Craw-
v——' ford and Montrose, and Hepburn earl of Bothwel was
in the rear.
The first motion of the English army was by the
lord-admiral, who suddenly wheeled to the right, and
seized a pass at Milford, where he planted his artillery
so as to command the most sloping part of the ascent
on which the Scots were drawn up; and it did great
execution. The Scots had not foreseen this manoeu¬
vre ; and it threw them into such disorder, that the
earl of Huntly found it necessary to attack the lord-
admiral ; which he did with so much fury, that he drove
him from his post; and the consequence must have
been fatal to the English, had not his precipitate re¬
treat been covered by some squadrons of horse under
the lord Dacres, which gave the lord-admiral an op¬
portunity of rallying and new-forming his men. The
earl of Surrey now found it necessary to advance to
the front, so that the English army formed one con¬
tinued line, which galled the Scots with perpetual dis
charges of their artillery and bows. The Highlanders,
as usual, impatient to come to a close fight, and to
share in the honour of the day, which they now thought
their own, rushed down the declivity with their broad
swords, but without order or discipline, and before the
rest of the army, particularly the division under Lord
Hume, advanced to support them. Their impetuosity,
however, made a considerable impression on the main
body of the English; and the king bringing up the
earl of Bothwel’s reserve, the battle became general
and doubtful: but by this time the lord-admiral, hav¬
ing again formed his men, came to the assistance of
his father, and charged the division under the earls of
Crawford and Montrose, who were marching up to sup¬
port the Highlanders, among whom the king and his
attendants were now fighting on foot: while Stanley,
making a circuit round the hill, attacked the High¬
landers in the rear. Crawford and Montrose, not be¬
ing seconded, according to the Scottish historians, by
,the Humes, were routed ; and thus all that part of the
Scotch army which was engaged under their king, was
completely surrounded by the division of the English
under Surrey, Stanley, and the lord-admiral. In this
terrible situation, James acted with a coolness not com¬
mon to his temper. He drew up his men in a circular
form, and their valour more than once opened the ranks
of the English, or obliged them to stand aloof, and again
have recourse to their bows and artillery. The chief
of the Scotch nobility made fresh attempts to prevail
with James to make his escape while it was practicable;
but he obstinately continued the fight; and thereby
406 became accessory to his own ruin, and that of his troops,
r!e Scots w^om t^ie English would gladly have suffered to retreat,
are defeat- saw ^e earls of Montrose, Crawford, Ai-gyle, and
ed and Lenox, fall by his side, with the bravest of his men ly-
tlieir king ing dead on the spot; and darkness now coming on,
he himself was killed by an unknown hand. The Eng¬
lish were ignorant of the victory they had gained; and
had actually retreated from the field of battle, with a
design of renewing it next morning.
This disaster was evidently owing to the romantic
disposition of the king himself, and to the want of dis¬
cipline among many of his soldiers : though some wri¬
ters have ascribed it to the treachery of Lord Hume.
Many of James’s domestics knew and mourned over his
body; and it appeared that he had received two mor- Scotland,
tal wounds, one through the trunk with an arrow, and ^ 1" v
the other in the head with a ball. His coat of armour
was presented to Queen Catharine, who informed her
husband, then in France, of the victory over the Scots.
The loss on both sides, in this engagement, is far from
being ascertained ; though Polydore Virgil, who lived
at the time, mentions the loss of the English at 5000,
and that of the Scots at 10,000 men. ^
Thus fell James IV. after having exercised the regal Reviewer
power for 25 years, and lived about 40. In reviewingtllere'Sn“
the principal transactions of his reign, our chief atten- mes^'
tion is directed to the acts of the legislature. These, as
in the preceding reigns, appear to have been very mind¬
ful of the freedom of the halie Jcirke. During the year
1489, was passed an act, by which it was made criminal
for any one to intermeddle with the profits or duties of
the church; and this act, which did not long protect,
either the church or the clergy from the rapacity of the
times, was speedily followed by legislative declarations
for universal concord among the Icing's lieges. The par¬
liament also endeavoured to protect the king’s privi¬
leges, considering him, still, however, as a minor; but
he attempted in vain to restore to the royal prerogative
the necessary vigour of ancient times. Additional ex¬
emptions were given to those members whose duty re¬
quired their constant attendance in parliament; but by
these exemptions the authority of the parliament was
neither strengthened nor enlarged. The general prin¬
ciples of former ages, that the king, by his precept,
might summon any of his subjects to give their pre¬
sence and advice in parliament, was again recognised;
and considering how much of the public revenue was
paid by the boroughs, it was a salutary provision that
their deputies should be always summoned as represen¬
tatives of one of the three estates, when it was intend¬
ed to require contributions from the people.
There seems to have been, during this reign, consi¬
derable zeal for promoting domestic economy, though
the best means were not always employed for that pur¬
pose. Agriculture was encouraged, weights and mea¬
sures were settled, craftsmen were regulated, coins
were struck, the value of money diminished, and ship¬
ping were required to come first to the free boroughs.
In addition to all these regulations, it was enacted un¬
der a penalty, that barons and freeholders should send
their eldest sons to the schools, to learn Latin and law;
but there seems to have been no provision made for in-* SeeChal-
structing them in the more important information ofmers’* Ca‘
morals and manners, in which the nation was notori-^”7“'
ously deficient. * P’ 408
After the death of King James IV. the administra- The queen
tion devolved on the queen-dowager; but she beingdo'vaSetrh®s'
pregnant with a posthumous child, and unable to bear™™ersn.
the weight of public business, accepted Beaton archbi-nient.
shop of Glasgow and chancellor of Scotland, with the
earls of Huntly, Angus, and Arran, to assist her in the 409
affairs of government. Soon after her husband’s death Writes to
she had written an affecting letter to her brother the*6
king of England, informing him of her pregnancy, set- aD
ting forth the deplorable state of the kingdom, with her
own condition, and imploring his friendship and protec¬
tion for herself and her infant son. This letter seems
never to have been communicated by Henry to his coun¬
cil ; but he answered it, and informed his sister, that if
SCOTLAND. 665
& land, the Scots would have peace, they should have peace,
and war if they chose it. “ He added (according to
Drummond), that her husband had fallen by his own
indiscreet rashness, and foolish kindness to France ; that
he regretted Ins death as his ally, and should be willing
to prohibit all hostility against the country of Scotland
during the minority of her son. For a remedy of pre¬
sent evils, one year’s truce and a day longer was yielded
unto; in which time he had leisure to prosecute his
designs against France, without fear of being disturbed
or diverted by the incursions and inroads of the Scots
upon his borders. ”
o Thus far Drummond : But though Henry might
Th Scot- grant this time to his sister’s intreaty, yet it certainly
if h fS did not become a national measure; for it appears by
cor iion. a letter dated two years after, from the Scots council
to the king of France, published by Rymer, that the
Scots never had desired a truce. So far from it, the
French influence, joined to a desire of revenge, remain¬
ed so strong in the kingdom, that after the meeting of
the parliament, some of the members were so violent as
to propose a renewal of the war. This motion was indeed
overruled by the more moderate part of the assembly :
but they could not be brought to make any advances
towards Henry for a peace; and every day now teemed
with public calamity, which seems to have gathered
strength while the queen was in childbed. The arch-
bishoprick of St Andrew’s being vacant, it was offered
by universal consent to Elphinston bishop of Aberdeen;
but being now old and infirm, he declined it. Three
competitors for that high dignity then appeared. The
first was Gawin Douglas, then abbot of Aberbrothwick,
to which he was presented by the queen on her reco¬
very (having been brought to bed of a son), the very
day before her manriage with his nephew the earl of
Angus: and upon the death of Bishop Elphinston in
November following, she presented him likewise to the
archbishopric of St Andrew’s. The second competitor
was John Hepburn, prior of St Andrew’s; a bold, a-
varicious, restless, but shrewd and sensible priest. By
his office he had received the rents of the see during its
vacancy ; and having prevailed with the canons, on pre¬
tence of ancient privileges, to elect him archbishop,
without regard to the nomination either of the queen
or pope, he drove Douglas’s servants from the castle
of St Andrew’s, of which they had taken possession.
The third and most powerful competitor was Forman
bishop of Moray in Scotland, and archbishop of Bourges
in France, a dignity to which he had been raised for
his public services. He had in his interest not only
the duke of Albany (son to the traitor duke) first
prince of the blood, but also the court of Rome itself;
and having received the pope’s bull and nomination to
the dignity, he was considered by the Scotch clergy
in general, and by the principal tenants and depend¬
ants on the see, as the legal archbishop.
The preference given to Forman discouraged Dou¬
glas from pursuing his pretensions ; but Flepburn, be¬
ing supported by the clan of his own name and by the
Humes, made so formidable an opposition to his rivals,
that none could be found sufficiently daring to publish
the papal bull in favour of Forman. The friends of the
latter, however, having intimated to the earl of Hume,
that his credit at the court of Rome could easily pro¬
cure the rich abbey of Coldingham for his younger bro-
Vol. XVIII. Fart II.
ther, the earl put himself at the head of his followers, Scotland,
and, notwithstanding all the opposition given by the L-*—v-*—*
Hepburns, he proclaimed the pope’s bull at the cross of
Edinburgh. This daring action plainly proved that
the earl of Hume had more power than the queen-re¬
gent herself; but Hepburn’s resolution and the great¬
ness of his friends, obliged Forman to agree to a com¬
promise. Hepburn was advanced to the see of Moray,
without accounting for the revenues of the archbishop¬
ric, which he had received during its vacancy ; and he
gave Forman a present of three thousand crowns, to
be divided among his friends and followers.
In April 15Tf, the posthumous son, of whom the An. 1514.
queen had been delivered in Stirling castle, was by the „ 411
bishop of Caithness baptized by the name of Alexander.
On the 6th of August this year she was married to the marnedUo
earl of Angus; a circumstance than whichnothing could the earl of
be accounted more impolitic. She had neither consulted Angus,
her brother nor the states of Scotland in the match ;
and by her having accepted of a husband, she in fact
resigned all claim to the regency under the late king's
will. The Douglases did not dispute her having di¬
vested herself of the regency ; but they affirmed, that
the parliament might lawfully reinstate her in it; and
that the peace of the kingdom required it, as it was the
only measure that could preserve the happy tranquillity
which then subsisted between Scotland and England.
The earl of Hume put himself at the head of the oppo¬
sition to this proposal. Fie knew that he had enemies,
and he dreaded that the farther aggrandizement of
Angus might weaken his interest on the borders. He
was joined by a number of the young nobility, who,
though divided among themselves, united against Angus.
In short, the general opinion was, that the Douglases
were already too great; and that, should the queen be
reinstated in the regency, they must be absolute within
the kingdom, and engross all places of power and profit.
It was added by the earl of Hume, that he had, out of
respect to the late king’s memory, submitted to the
queen’s government; and that, now when she had made
a voluntary abdication of it by her marriage, it ought
not to be renewed. 4I2
After some deliberations, the duke of Albany was The duke
chosen regent. He was a man possessed of all the qua-of Albany
lities requisite for a good governor; nor did he disap- Cll0'^en re'
point the expectations of the public. On his arrival atS
Glasgow, he took upon him the titles of earl of March,
Marr, Garioch, lord of Annandale, and of the isle of
Man, regent and protector of the kingdom of Scotland.
On his arrival at Edinburgh, he was received in form
by the three estates of the kingdom, and the queen
had met him at some distance from the town. The
parliament then resumed its session, and the three
estates took an oath of obedience, till the king, then
an infant of four years old, should arrive at the years
of maturity.
The first point at which the regent aimed, was the
conciliating the differences amongst the various con¬
tending families in the kingdom ; at the same time,
that he suppressed some daring robbers, one of whom
is said to have had not fewer than 800 attendants in his
infamous profession. So great was his love of good or¬
der and decency, that he punished the lord Drummond
with the loss of his estate for having struck Lyon king
at arms, whose person, as the first herald in Scotland,
f 4 P ought
666
SCOT L AND.
Scotland.
415
Hepburn
becomes
his chief
favourite.
414
He at¬
tempts, to
destroy the
earl of
Hume,
" 415
who is
driven into
England.
ought to have been held sacred. Nay, it was at the
earnest solicitation of Lyon himself, and many of the
chief nobility, that a greater punishment was not in¬
flicted. The forfeiture was afterwards, however, remit¬
ted ; but not before Drummond hath upon his knees,
acknowledged his offence, and humbled himself before
Lyon.
The regent had not been long in office before he
took into favour Hepburn the prior of St Andrew’s,
whom he consulted for information concerning the state
of Scotland. Hepburn acquainted him with all the
feuds and animosities which raged among the great fa¬
milies of Scotland, their ferocious character, and bar¬
barous behaviour to their enemies. He represented the
civil power as too weak to curb these potent chieftains;
and gave it as his opinion that the regent’s administra¬
tion ought to he supported by foreign arms, meaning
those of France.
Hepburn is said also to have gained an ascendency
over the regent by means of large sums of money laid
out among his domestics, by an insinuating and plausible
address, and b> well directed flatteries : and he employ¬
ed this ascendency to destroy those who were obnoxious
to himself. The earl of Hume, as being the first sub¬
ject in rank and authority, became obnoxious to the re¬
gent through the insinuations of Hepburn ; and as that
nobleman had frequent occasion to be at court by vir¬
tue of his office of chamberlain, he soon perceived that
neither he nor his friends were welcome guests there.
Alarmed for his own safety, he resolved to form a party
with the queen-mother and her new husband against the
regent. This was by no means a difficult task : for the
queen naturally imagined that her new husband ought
to have had some share in the government; and the earl
of Angus readily concurred in the scheme. In the mean
time, the regent was making a progress through Scot¬
land, while bloody feuds were raging among the nobles;
but before any remedy could be applied to these disor¬
ders, he was informed of the schemes laid by the queen-
mother and her party ; and that she had resolved to fly
into England with her two infants. On this he instant¬
ly returned to Edinburgh ; and as no time was to be
lost, set out that very night, and surprised the castle of
Stirling, where he found the queen-mother and her
two infants.
The regent, after this bold step, took care to show
that the care of the royal infants was his chief study.
As he himself was nearly allied to the crown, in order
to remove all suspicions and calumnies on that account,
he committed the care of the king and his brother to
three noblemen of the most unexceptionable characters
in the kingdom, but of whom we now know the name
only of one, viz. the earl of Lenox. They were ap¬
pointed to attend the princes by turns ; to whom also
a guard, consisting partly of French and partly of Scots,
was assigned; and the queen-mother was left at liberty
to reside where she pleased.
The earl of Hume, finding his schemes thus abor¬
tive, retired to his own estate ; whence he was soon af¬
ter driven, and obliged to fly into England, by the
earls of Arran and Lenox. The queen-mother retired
to a monastery at Coldstream; andmessengers were des¬
patched to.the court of England, to know how Henry
wouid have his sister disposed of. He ordered the lord
Dacres, his warden of the marches, to attend her to
Ilarbottle-castle in Northumberland; and here she was Scotland,
delivered of her daughter the Lady Mary Douglas,
mo’her to Henry Lord Darnley, father to James VI.
The regent despatched ambassadors to Henry, in order
to vindicate his own conduct. He likewise sent to as¬
sure the queen that she had nothing to fear in Scotland;
and to invite her to return thither, where she should
at all times be admitted to see her children. This of-
fer, however, she declined ; and set out for London, The nueer
where she was aftectionately received and entertained by to
her brother. But in the mean time many disorders
were committed throughout the kingdom by the party
of the queen-mother ; though, by the interposition of
Archbishop Forman, they were at present terminated
without bloodshed, and some of the principal offenders
were persuaded to return to their duty. Among these 4]-
was the earl of Angus himself, the queen’s husband ; Her hus-
wdiich when King Henry heard, he exclaimed, “ That kaml sub¬
tile earl, by deserting his wife, had acted like a Sect. ”
Lord Hume refused to surrender himself, or to accept
of the regent's terms; and was of consequence declared
a traitor, and his estate confiscated. All this time he
had been infesting the borders at the head of a lawless
banditti; and now he began to commit such devasta¬
tions, that the regent found it necessary to march
against him at the head of 1000 disciplined troops.
Hume being obliged to lay down his arms, was sent
prisoner to Edinburgh castle ; where the regent very
unaccountably committed him to the charge of his
brother-in-law the earl of Arran. Hume easily found
means to gain over this near relation to his own party ;
and both of them, in the month of October 1515, 418
escaped to the borders, where they soon renewed hos- Rebellion
tilities. Both the earls were now proclaimed traitors, a»d com;
mils to tbi
resent.
An. 15I£
but Hume was allowed fifteen days to surrender him- !MUonVI
J different
self. This short interval the regent employed in quel- piaces.
ling the rebellion, for which purpose the parliament
had allowed him 15,000 men. He besieged the castle
of Hamilton, the earl of Arran’s chief seat, which was
in no condition for defence: but he was prevailed on
by Arran’s mother, daughter to James II. and aunt to
the regent himself, to forbear further hostilities, and
even to pardon her son, provided he should return to
his duty. Arran accordingly submitted ; hut the pub¬
lic tranquillity was not thus restored. An associa¬
tion, at the head of which was the earl of Moray,
the king’s natural brother, had been formed against the
earl of Huntly. That nobleman was too well attend¬
ed to fear any danger by d. y; but his enemies found-
means to introduce some armed troops in the night¬
time into Edinburgh. On this a fierce skirmish ensu¬
ed, in which some were killed on both sides ; but far¬
ther bloodshed was prevented by the regent, who con¬
fined all the lords in prison till he had brought about
a general reconciliation. One Hay, who had been
very active in stirring up the quarrels, was banished to
France; and only the earl of Hume now continued in
arms.
In 1516 died the young duke of Rothesay ; an event An. I5iti
which brought the regent one degree nearer the crown,
so that he was declared heir in case of the demise of
young James. Negociations were then entered into
about prolonging the truce which at that time subsisted
with England; but Henry insisting on a removal of
the regent from his place, they were for the present
dropped..
itlaud.
SCOT
otto! dropped. Finding, however, that he could neither
"v 1 prevail on the parliament as a body to dismiss the re¬
gent, nor form a party of any consequence against him,
he at last consented to a prolongation of the truce for
a year.
1517. In 1517, the affairs of the regent requiring his pre-
419 sence in France, he resolved, before his departure, to
' ;earI ^remove the earl of Hume, who, as we have seen, alone
j continued to disturb the public tranquillity. Under
pretence of settling some differences which still remain¬
ed with England, he called a convention of the nobili¬
ty ; and sent special letters to the earl of Hume and
his brother to attend, on account of their great know¬
ledge in English affairs. Both of them imprudently
obeyed the summons, and were seized and executed as
soon as they arrived at Edinburgh. Whatever occa¬
sion there might be for tliis severity, it alienated the af¬
fections of the people to such a degree, that the regent
could scarcely get the place filled up which Lord Hume
had possessed. That of lord warden of the marches he
at last gave to his French favourite La Beaute, called
by historians Sir Anthony D’Arcy. The post ot lord
chamberlain was given to Lord Fleming. Soon alter
this, the regent levied an army, on pretence of repress¬
ing some disturbances on the borders. These being
420 speedily quelled, he seized on his return the earl of Le-
2 regent uox, and forced him to deliver up his castle of Dumbar-
st0 ton, not choosing to leave it, during his intended ab-
J1^ sence in France, in the custody of a nobleman of sus-
en re- pected fidelity ; and from similar motives, he afterwards
ns to took him with him on his departure for the continent.
He then procured himself to be nominated ambassador
to France, in which character he left the kingdom;
having committed the government to the archbishops
of St Andrews and Glasgow-, the earls of Arran, An¬
gus, Huntly, and Argyle, with the warden D’Arcy,
on whom was his chief dependence.
On the departure of the regent, the queen-mother
left the English court; and arrived with a noble re¬
tinue at Berwick, on purpose to visit her son. Here
she was received by her husband ; for whom she had
contracted an invincible aversion ; either on account of
Jus infidelities to her bed, or because he had deserted
her in the manner already related. She suppressed her
resentment, however, for the present, and accompanied
him to Edinburgh. Here, in consequence of the pro¬
posals made by the regent, she demanded access to her
son ; but this was refused by D’Arcy. Lord Erskine,
however, who was one of those to whom the care of the
young king was committed, conveyed him to the castle
of Craigmiliar (where D’Arcy had no jurisdiction), on
pretence that the plague was in Edinburgh ; and there
the queen was admitted ; but this gave such offence to
D’Arcy, that Lord Erskine was obliged to carry back
the king to the castle of Edinburgh, where all further
access was denied to his mother. In short, the beha¬
viour of this favourite was on all occasions so haughty
and violent, that he rendered himself universally odi¬
ous ; and was at last murdered, with all his attendants,
in his way to Danse, where he proposed to hold a court
of justice.— His death w^as little regretted ; yet his
murderers were prosecuted with the utmost severity,
and several persons of distinction declared rebels on
that account.
Meanwhile, the regent was treated with high marks
LAND. 667
of distinction in France. The king showed him the Scotland,
greatest respect, promised to assist in establishing his
authority in Scotland, and solenmly confirmed the am-
cient league between the two kingdoms. Soon after,
the earl of Lenox arrived from France, with assurances
of protection and assistance from the king, who was
highly pleased with the zeal of the governors in punish¬
ing D’Arcy’s murderers ; and 500 soldiers arrived
with him, to reinforce the garrisons, especially that of
Dunbar. 421
All this time the queen-mother continued at Edin-The queen
burgh, employing herself in attempts to procure a
vorce from her husband, under pretence of his having ]ul.il)ancj.
been previously contracted to another. The affairs of An. 1519.
the kingdom again began to fall into confusion, and many
murders and commotions happened in different parts of
the country. The earl of Arran had the chief direction
in the state ; but the earl of Angus, notwithstanding
the difference with his wife, had still great interest, and
waited every opportunity to oppose him. Thisemula- 422
tion produced an encounter at Edinburgh; in which Skirmish
victory declared for Angus, and 72 of the routed party
were killed. This skirmish was fought on the 50th otersoftlie
April 1519, and has been known in Scots history by earl of Ar-
the name of Cleanse ihe Causeway. An^r*
On the 19th of November 1521, the regent returned
from France. He found the kingdom in great disorder.
The earl of Angus domineered in the field, but his an¬
tagonists outvoted his party in the parliament. The
queen-mother, who had fixed her affections on a third
husband, hated all parties almost equally; but joined the
duke of Albany, in hopes of his depriving the other two
of their power. This happened according to her ex¬
pectation ; and she was with the regent when he made
a kind of triumphal entry into Edinburgh, attended by
a number of persons of the first rank— The earl of An¬
gus was now summoned to appear as a criminal; hut
his wife interceded for him, not out of any remains of
affection, hut because he gave her no opposition in the
process of divorce which was depending between them. An t.o22.
—In the mean time, Henry VHI. of England, per- wJ^ith
ceiving that the Scots were entirely devoted to England,
French interest, sent a letter full of accusations against
the regent, and threats against the whole nation, if they
did not renounce that alliance. No regard being paid
to these requisitions, Lord Dacres was ordered to pro¬
claim upon the borders that the Scots must stand to their
peril if they did not accede to his measures by the first
of March 1522. This producing no effect, Henry
seized the effects of all the Scots residing in England,
and banished them his dominions, after marking them,
according to Bishop Leslie, with a cross, to distinguish
them from his other subjects. A war was the unavoid¬
able consequence of these proceedings; and, on the nOth
of April, the earl of Shrewsbury, Henry’s steward of
the household, and knight of the Garter, was appoin ted
commander in chief of the army that was to act against
the Scots ; and, in the mean time, Lord Dacres made
an inroad as far as Kelso, plundering and burning
wherever he came. 424
The regent ordered his army to rendezvous at uos-The Scots
fin • but the Scots, remembering the disaster at Flod-refuse to
den, showed an extreme aversion to the war, and even^e^
declared to the regent, that though they would defend n
themselves in case they were attacked, they would
4 P 2 «ot
66S
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
not engage in a French quarrel. The regent remon¬
strated, but without effect; and as the malcontents
continued obstinate, he was in danger of being left by
himself, when the queen-mother interposed, and pre¬
vailed w ith Lord Dacres to agree to a conference, the
event of which was a renewal of the nesrociations for
425 peace
The regent
goes to
France for
assistance.
426
'rile Eng¬
lish resolve
to intercept
him.
427
He escapes
their vigi¬
lance, and
lands in
Scotland.
428
Cruel de¬
vastations
of the Eng¬
lish.
An, 1525.
The regent perceiving, by the disgrace of this ex¬
pedition, that he had lost his former popularity, deter¬
mined to revenge himself; and therefore told those in
whom he could confide, that he v/as about to return to
France, whence he should bring such a force by sea
and land, as should render it unnecessary for him again
to ask leave of the Scots to invade England. Ac¬
cordingly he embarked for France on the 25th of Oc¬
tober, but publicly gave out that he would return the
ensuing August.
On the regent’s arrival in France, he made a demand
of 10,000 foot and 5000 horse for carrying on the war
against England; but the situation of Francis did not
then allow him to spare so many at once, though he was
daily sending over ships with men, ammunition, and mo¬
ney, for the French garrisons in Scotland. At last it
was publicly known in England that the regent was
about to return with a strong fleet, and 4000 of the best
troops in France ; on which Henry determined, if pos¬
sible, to intercept him. Sir William Fitz-Williams,
with 36 large ships, was ordered to block up the French
squadron in the harbour of Finhead ; Sir Anthony
Poyntz cruized with another in the western seas, as Sir
Christopher Dow and Sir Henry Shireburn did in the
northern with a third squadron. The duke of Albany,
being unable to cope with Fitz-Williams, was obliged
to set out from another port with 12 ships, having some
troops on board. They fell in with Fitz-Williams’s
squadron ; two of their ships were sunk, and the rest
driven back to Dieppe. Fitz-Williams then made a
descent at Treport, where he burnt 18 French ships,
and returned to his station off Finhead. By this time
the French had given the duke such a reinforcement as
made him an overmatch for the English admiral, had
the men been equally good ; but the regent had no de¬
pendence on French sailors when put in competition
with the English. Instead of corning to an engage¬
ment, therefore, as soon as Fitz-Williams appeared, he
disembarked his soldiers, as if he had intended to de¬
lay his expedition for that year ; but a storm soon aris¬
ing, which obliged the English fleet to return to the
Downs, the regent took that opportunity of reimbark-
ing his men, and, sailing by the western coasts, arrived
safe in Scotland.
All this time the earl of Surry had been carrying
on the most cruel and destructive war against Scotland;
insomuch that, according to Cardinal Wolsey, “ there
was left neither house, fortress, village, tree, cattle, corn,
nor other succour for man, ” in the districts of Tweed-
dale and March. The regent’s return did not imme¬
diately put a stop to these devastations ; for the intes¬
tine divisions in Scotland prevented him from taking
the field. His party was weakened by his long ab¬
sence, and the queen-mother had been very active in
strengthening the English interest. A parliament was
called in 1523, in which it was debated, Whether peace
or war with England should be resolved on ? and the
determinations of this parliament were evidently on the
worse side of the question. Henry was at this time so Scotland,
well disposed to cultivate a friendship with Scotland, —y—.
that he offered to James his eldest sister Mary in mar- 429
riage; but the Scots, animated by the appearance offLniyof'
their French auxiliaries, and corrupted by their gold, whichtT
rejected all terms, and resolved on war. However, rejected,
when the army was assembled, and had advanced to the
borders, he found the same difficulty he had formerly
experienced; for they peremptorily refused to enter
England. With great difficulty he prevailed with part
of the army to pass the Tweed ; but not meeting with
success, he was obliged to return to Scotland, which at
this time was divided into four factions. One of these
was headed by the regent, another by the queen, a
third by the earl of Arran, and a fourth by the earl of
Angus, who had lived as an exile under Henry’s pro¬
tection. Had it been possible for the earl of Angus
and his wife to be reconciled to each other, it would
have been much for the interest of the kingdom; but
all the art even of Cardinal Wolsey could not effect 4~Q
this reconciliation. At last, the duke of Albany, find- The dukej
ing all parties united against him, resigned his office of Alban)
of regent of Scotland. On the 14th of March that r^1gns]'i|
year, he went on board one of his own ships for France, °10,g®t°
whence he never returned to Scotland. He did not °
indeed make a formal abdication of his government;
but he requested the nobility, whom he convened for
that purpose, to enter into no alliance with England
during his absence, which he said would continue no
longer than the first of September following ; to make
no alteration in the government; and to keep the king
at Stirling.
The nobility, who were impatient for the absence of
the regent, readily promised whatever he required, but
without any intention of performing it: nor, indeed,
was it in their power to comply ; for it had been pre¬
viously determined that James himself should now take
the administration into his own hands. According to
Buchanan, the regent had no sooner returned to France
than Scotland relapsed into all the miseries of anarchy.
The queen-dowager had the management of public af¬
fairs, but her power was limited. The earl of Arran,
apprehending danger from the English, entered into the
views of the French party. The queen-mother’s dislike
to her husband continued as great as ever, which pre¬
vented an union among those who were in the English
interest; and Wolsey took that opportunity of restoring
the earl of Angus to all his importance in Scotland.—
The queen-mother, therefore, had no other means left ^
to keep herself in power, than to bring James himself 431
into action. On the 29th of July, therefore, he re-James
moved from Stirling to the abbey of Holyroodhouse;
where he took on himself the exercise of government, *’"^,
by convoking the nobility, and obliging them to swear ^nent.
allegiance to his person a second time. The truce with
England was now prolonged, and the queen's party car¬
ried all before them. On the very day in which the last
truce was signed with England, the earl of Angus en¬
tered Scotland. He had been invited from his exile in
France into England, where he was caressed by Henry, 432
who disregarded all his sister’s intreaties to send him The earl 1
back to France, and now resolved to support him in An»u®ore
Scotland. Yet, though his declared intention in send- gcotiaii(L
ing the earl to Scotland was, that the latter might ba¬
lance the French party there, the king enjoined him to
sue.
SCOTLAND. <T69
jtland. sue, iii the most humble manner, for a reconciliation
' 'V"—"' with his wife, and to co-operate with the earl of Ar¬
ran, who now acted as prime minister, as long as he
should oppose the French party. On his return, how¬
ever, he found himself excluded from all share in the
government, but soon found means to form a strong
party in opposition to Arran. In the mean time, am¬
bassadors were sent to the court of England, in order to
J33 bring about a lasting peace between the two nations.
’ ;oeia- At the same time a match was proposed between the
1 S fo-tii youri§ of Scotland and Henry’s daughter. This
j land/ ia<^ originaHy been a scheme of Henry himself; but
the emperor Charles V. had resolved to outbid him, by
offering James a princess of his own family, with an
immense treasure. The ambassadors arrived at London
on the 19th of December, and found Henry very much
disposed both to the peace and to the match. Com¬
missioners were appointed to treat respecting it; but they
were instructed to demand, by way of preliminary, that
the Scots should absolutely renounce their league with
France, and that James should be sent for education to
England till he should be of a proper age for marriage.
The Scottish commissioners declared, that they had no
instructions respecting these points: but one of them, the
earl of Cassilis, offered to return to Scotland, and bring
a definitive answer from the three estates ; and in the
434 mean time the truce was prolonged to the 15th of May
’ i earl of 1525. On his arrival at Edinburgh, he found the carl
?us. of Angus the leading man in parliament; by whose in-
J llUo fluence it was determined that the Scots should renounce
1525. their league with France, and substitute in place of it a
similar league with England; and that the king should
be brought up at the English court till he was of an
age proper for marriage: but at the same time they
required of Henry to break off all engagements with
Charles V., who was the bitter enemy of Francis, and
at that time detained him prisoner. To this the Eng¬
lish monarch returned but a cool reply, being then en¬
gaged in a number of treaties with the emperor, among
which one was concerning the marriage of the princess
Mary with his imperial majesty himself; however, be¬
fore Cassilis returned, a truce of two years and a half
was concluded between England and Scotland,
ipposed Now, however, the queen-mother, though she had al-
he ways been a warm advocate for an alliance between the
en- two nations, disliked the means of bringing it about.—
ller’ She saw her husband’s party increasing every day in
power; so that now she had no other resource but to
keep possession of the king’s person, whom she removed
to the castle of Edinburgh. Being now under the ne¬
cessity of convening a parliament, it was resolved to hold
it within the castle; but this being an unconstitutional
measure, gave a pretext to the earl of Arran and his
) is be- party to complain of the innovation. They began with
ed in remonstrances; but finding these ineffectual, they toi'm-
jwurgh e(j a b]ockatie 0f the castle with 2000 men, and cut off
all communication with the town by means of trenches.
As no provisions could be introduced into the castle,
the queen ordered some of the cannon to be turned
against the town, in order to force the citizens to ter¬
minate the blockade. Several shots were fired: but
when all things appeared ready for a civil war, mat¬
ters were compromised, though in such an imperfect
manner as left very little room to hope for perfect ti’an-
quillity.- It was agreed, that the king should remove
out of the castle of Edinburgh to the palace of Holy- Scotland,
roodhouse; from which he should repair with all pos- —v—J
sible magnificence to his parliament, in the house where
it was commonly held ; and there a termination was to An. 1526.
be put to all differences. This agreement v/as signed on 7
the 25th of February 1526. The parliament accord- 0f j^es
ingly met, and the king’s marriage with the princess ofwith an
England was ratified; but no mention was made of English
the king’s being sent for his education into that coun-
try; on the contrary, he was committed to the care ofso 'L °a’
eight lords of parliament. These were to have the
custody of the king’s person, every one his month in
rotation, and the whole to stand for the government of
the state; yet with this limitation, “ that the king, by
their counsel, should not ordain or determine any thing
in great affairs to which the queen-dowager, as princess
and dowager, should not give her consent. ” This par¬
tition of power, by giving the queen-dowager a negative
in all public matters, soon threw every thing into confu¬
sion. The earl of Angus, by leading the king into va¬
rious scenes of pleasure and dissipation, so gained the
ascendency over him, that he became almost totally
guided by him. The queen-mother, perceiving that
she could not have access to her son, without at the same
time being in company with her husband, whom she
hated, retired suddenly with her domestics to Stirling.
Thus the king was left under the sole tuition of the earl He is left
of Angus, who abused his power, engrossing all the in
places of honour or profit. The archbishop of
Andrew’s having now joined the queen’s party, advised Angus,
her to make a formal demand upon her husband, that
the order of government which had been settled by the
last parliament should take place, and that under a pe¬
nalty he should set the king at liberty. To this the
earl answered by a kind of manifesto drawn up by his
brother; in which he declared, that “ the earl of Angus
having been so highly favoured by his good uncle the
king of England, and that James himself being under
great obligations to him, neither the queen nor the other
lords need be in any pain about him, as he chose to
spend his time with the earl of Angus rather than.with
any lord in the kingdom. ” James himself, however, Attempts
had sufficient discernment to perceive, that, notwith- to recover
standing all the fair pretences of the earl of Angus, he hls hbt!rty-
was in fact no better than his prisoner ; and resolved to
attempt the recovery of his liberty. The earls of Ar-
gy!e and Arran had for some time retired from court,
where they had no share in the administration, and were
living on their own estates; but the earl of Lenox dis¬
sembled his sentiments so well, that he was suspected
neither by the earl of Angus, nor any of the Douglas
family, who were his partisans. The king being gain¬
ed upon by his insinuating behaviour, opened his mind
to him, and requested his assistance against such trea¬
cherous keepers. At the same time he sent letters to
his mother, and the heads of her party, by some of his
domestics whom Lenox had p anted out, intreating
them to remove him from the earl, and not suffi 1' him
any longer to remain under his imperious jurisdiction 4
adding, that if this could not be done by any other
means, they should use force of arms.
On receiving this letter, the queen-mother and her
party assembled their forces at Stirling, and without loss
of time began their march for Edinburgh. Angus, on
the other hand, prepared to oppose them with vigour, ,
but..
440
Is indispo¬
sed.
nil
670 SCOT L
Scotland, but at the same time to carry along with him his royal
charge. This resolution being made known to the
queen-mother, she was so much concerned for the safety
of her son, that the whole party disbanded themselves ;
and thus the authority of the earl of Angus seemed to
be more established than ever. Nothing, indeed, was
now wanting to render him despotic but the possession
of the great seal, which the archbishop of St Andrew’s
’had carried with him to Dunfermline. As no deed of
any consequence could be executed without this, he pre¬
vailed on the king to demand it by a special message;
in consequence of which, the archbishop was obliged to
The queen-relinquish it. About this time the divorce which had
mother di- been so long in agitation between the queen-mother and
JiushancLr t^ie ear^ Angus actually took place; and this, no
doubt, increased the dislike of James to his confinement,
while the imprudence of Angus daily gave fresh reason
of disgust. As Angus knew that he had no firm sup¬
port but in the attachment of his followers to his per¬
son, he suffered them to rob and plunder the estates of
his opponents without mercy* These, again, did not
fail to make reprisals; so that, towards the end of the
year 1526, there was scarcely any appearance of civil
government in Scotland. Thus the court became almost
totally deserted; every nobleman being obliged to go
home to defend his own estate. Even Angus himself
shared in the common calamity, and hence was fre¬
quently obliged to leave the king to the custody of Le¬
nox. To this nobleman the king now made the most
grievous complaints, and charged him to contrive some
442 plan for his escape. Lenox accordingly recommend-
Thc baron ed to him the baron of Buccleugh, who was very power-
of Buc_ ful in the southern parts, and a violent enemy to Angus
tempts to" and the whole family of Douglas. To him he gave
rescue the instructionstofonjentthe disorders in the southern parts
king, but is to such a degree as to require the king's personal pre-
defeated. sencc to compose them. Buccleugh was then to attack
the party, and take the king by force from the Dou¬
glases. This scheme was put in execution, but Buc¬
cleugh had the misfortune to be defeated ; so that the
attempt proved abortive, and James found himself in a
worse situation than before. After this attempt, how¬
ever, as the earl of Angus could not but know that
Lenox had been accessory to it, the former behaved to¬
wards him with such visible indifference, that Lenox
openly declared against him, and advised the king to
form a friendship with the archbishop of St Andrew’s,
in order to effect his liberty. This was accordingly
done ; but the interest of the archbishop and Lenox
was overbalanced by that of Arran and the Hamilton
445 family, whom the earl of Angus had now drawn over
Another to his party. The earl of Lenox, however, having re-
attempt by ceived powers from the king for that purpose, suddenly
An. 1527 rct‘red from court; and published a manifesto, inviting
all loyal subjects to assist him in delivering the king
from confinement. In consequence of this he was soon
joined by a numerous army, with whom he advanced
towards Edinburgh. Angus did not fail to assemble his
adherents; and sent orders to the inhabitants of Edin¬
burgh to take the field, with the king at their head.
The citizens immediately put themselves under arms ;
but James, pretending to be indisposed, Sir George
Douglas, brother to the earl of Angus, made him the
following speech; “ Sir, rather than our enemies should
take you from us, we will lay hold of your person;
AND.
and should you be torn in pieces in the Struggle, we Scotb j
will carry off part of your body. ” Upon this speech,'—“V J
which James never forgot, he mounted his horse and set
forward to Linlithgow, but with a very slow pace; in¬
somuch that Sir George Douglas, afraid of not coming
in time to succour his brother, made use of many in¬
decent expressions and actions to push James on to the
field of battle. Three expresses arrived from the earl
of Angus; the first informing his brother that he was
about to engage with a superior army; the second, that
Angus was engaged with a division of Lenox’s army,
commanded by the earl of Glencairn; and that Lenox
himself was engaged with the Hamiltons. The third
informed him that Lenox, if not actually defeated, was ...
on the point of being so. Upon receiving this last Who ij|
news, James hastened to the field of battle, that he^ated ill
might save Lenox, and put an end to the slaughter.—k‘Ued.
But he came too late : for the royal party was already
defeated with great slaughter ; and Lenox himself, af¬
ter being wounded and taken prisoner, was murdered
by Sir James Hamilton.
On the night of the battle, the king was removed
to Linlithgow; and though he was under the greatest
grief for the fate of Lenox, the behaviour of the Dou¬
glases struck him with such terror that he dissembled his
sentiments. The earl of Angus led his victorious troops
into Fife, in hopes of surprising the queen-mother and I
the archbishop of St Andrew’s. The queen-mother, onThequji
the news of his approach, fled, with her new husband mother (i|
Henry Stuart, brother to Lord Evandale, to Edinburgh,1 |
and both were admitted into the castle. The archbishopj]^'^ I
fled to the mountains, where lie was obliged to keep
cattle as a shepherd. Angus, after having plundered
the castle of St Andrew’s and the abbey of Dunferm¬
line, returned in triumph to Edinburgh, where he pre¬
pared to besiege the castle: but the queen-mother, hear¬
ing that her son was among the number of the besiegers,
ordered the gates of the castle to be thrown open, and
surrendered herself and her husband prisoners to James,
who was advised to confine them to the castle. After
these repeated successes, the earl of Angus established
a kind of court of justice, in which he prosecuted those
who had opposed him, among whom was the earl of 44y I
Cassilis. He was offered by Sir James Hamilton, na-Trial a: I
tural son of the earl of Arran, the same who had mur- wm-detfl
derecl Lenox, an indemnity if he would own himself a^^H
vassal of that house ; but this condition was rejected. as ‘ I
Being called to his trial, and accused of having taken
arms against the king, a gentleman of his name and
family, who was his advocate, denied the charge, and
offered to produce a letter under James’s own hand,
desiring him to assist in delivering him from his gaolers.
This striking evidence confounded the prosecutor so
much, that the earl was acquitted; but on his return
home he was way laid and murdered by one Hugh
Campbell, at the instigation of Sir James Hamilton.
During these transactions in the south, many of the
Highland clans were perpetrating the most horrid scenes
of rapine and murder, which also prevailed in some parts
of the Lowlands. The state of the borders was tittle
better than that of the Highlands; but it engaged the
attention of Angus more, as he had great interest in
these parts. Marching, therefore, against the banditti
which infested these districts, he soon reduced them to
subjection. His power seemed now to be firmly esta¬
blished,
SCOT
S land, blished, insornuch tfjat the archbishop of St Andrew’s
^ 1 began to treat with Sir George Douglas, to whom he
It7 offered lucrative leases and other emoluments if he would
r intercede with the regent, as Angus was called, in his
fJhis favour. This was readily agreed to; and the arch-
co e- bishop was allowed to return in safety to his palace a-
bout the same time that Angus returned from his expe¬
dition against the borderers. Nothing was then seen at
court but festivities of every kind, in which the queen-
mother who was now7 released from her confinement,
took part; and she was afterwards suffered to depart to
the castle of Stirling ; which Angus, not considering
its importance, had neglected to secure. In the mean
time the archbishop invited the Douglases to spend some
days with him at his castle ; which they accordingly
did, and carried the king along with them. Here
James dissembled so well, and seemed to be so enamour¬
ed of his new way of life, that Angus thought there
could be no danger in leaving him in the hands of his
friends, w'hile he returned to Lothian to settle some
public as well as private affairs. Having taken leave of
the king, he left him in the custody of his uncle Archi¬
bald, his brother Sir George, and one James Douglas
of Parkhead, captain of the gaurds who watched his
majesty on pretence of doing him honour. The earl
was no sooner gone than the archbishop sent an invita¬
tion to Sir George Douglas, desiring him to come to
St Andrew’s, and there put the last hand to the leases,
and finish the bargains that had been spoken off between
them. This was so plausible, that he immediately set
out for St Andrew’s ; whilehisunclethe treasurer w-ent
to Dundee. James thinking this to be the best oppor¬
tunity that ever presented itself for an escape, resolved
to avail himself of it at all events; and found means, by
a private message, to apprise his mother of his design.
It was then the season for hunting and diversion, which
James often followed in the park of Falkland : and cal¬
ling for his forester, he told him, that as the weather
was fine, he intended to kill a stag next morning, or¬
dering him at the same time to summon all the gen¬
tlemen in the neighbourhood to attend him with their
best dogs. He then called for his chief domestics, and
commanded them to get his supper early, because he
intended to be in the field by day-break; and he talk¬
ed writh the captain of his guard of nothing but the ex¬
cellent sport he expected next morning. In the mean
time, he had engaged two }roung men, the one a page
of his own, the other John Hart, a helper about his
stables, to attend him in his flight, and to provide him
with the dress of a groom for a disguise. Having for¬
mally taken leave of his attendants, charging them to
be ready early in the morning, and being lef t alone, he
stole softly out of his bed-chamber, went to the sta¬
ble unperceived by the gaurds, dressed himselt in his
disguise; and he and his companions mounting the three
besthorses there,galloped to Stirling castle; into which,
by the queen’s appointment, he was admitted soon af
ter day-break. He commanded all the gates to be se¬
cured ; and the queen having previously prepared every
thing for a vigorous defence, orders were given that
none should be admitted into the castle without the
king’s permission.
About an hour after the king’s escape from Falkland,
Sir George Douglas returned; and being assured that
his majesty was asleep, he went to bed. It appears
LAND.
671
that James had been seen and known in his flight; for s ''’tiand-
in the morning the bailiff of A'o rnefhycame post-haste ——
to inform Sir George that the king had passed Stirling
bridge. They had, however, some glimmering hope
that the king might be gone to Bambrigh: but that
surmise was soon found to be false; and an exp-res was
despatched, informing Angus of all that had happened.
Theearl quicklyrepaired to Falkland, where he and his
friendscame to a resolution of going to Stirling, and de¬
manding access to the king. 44g
James by this time had issued letters to the earls of He pre-
Huntly, Argyle, Athol, Glencairn, Menteith, Rothes t pares to re-
and Elginton; the lords Graham, Livingston Lindsay, vtjrlSe
Sinclair, Ruthven, Drummond, Evandale, Maxwell, and '
Semple. Before all of them could arrive at Stirling',
the earl of Angus and his friends were upon their jour¬
ney to the same place ; but were stopped by a herald
at arms, commanding them on their allegiance not to
approach witliin six miles of the king’s residence. This
order having sufficiently intimated what they were to
expect, the earl deliberated with his party how he should
proceed. Some of them were for marching on and tak¬
ing the castle by surprise : but that was found to be im¬
practicable, especially as they had no artillery. The
earl and his brother therefore resolved to make a show
of submission to the king’s order; and they accordingly
went to Linlithgow. By this time all the nobility al¬
ready mentioned, and many others, had assembled at
Stirling ; and James, calling them to council, inveigh¬
ed against the tyranny of the Douglases with an acri¬
mony that sufficiently discovered what pain it must have
given him when he was obliged to bear it in silence.
He concluded his speech with these words : “ There¬
fore I desire, my lords, that I may be satisfied of the
said earl, his kin, and friends. For I vow that Scot¬
land shall not hold us both, while I be revenged on him
and his. ”
The result of the council’s deliberation was that pro¬
clamation should be made, renewing the order for the
Douglases not to approach the court, and divesting the
earl of Angus and his brother of all their public em¬
ployments. In the mean time, such was the modera¬
tion of the assembly, that by their advice James ordered
the earl to retire to the north of the Spey till his plea¬
sure should be known; but his brother was commanded
to surrender himself a prisoner in the castle of Edin¬
burgh, to take his trial in a very full parliament (all the
members being summoned to attend), to be held in that
city next September. Theearl andhisbrother consider¬
ed compliancewith these conditions as apreludeto their
destruction; andresolved tojustify their treasons by still
greater excesses, in surprising the town of Edinburgh,
and holding it against the king and parliament, before
the latter could assemble. Historians have not done
that justice to the proceedings of the royal party on this
occasion which they deserve. The management of the
king’s escape, his reception into Stirling, the fortifying
that castle, and the ready obedience of his great nobi¬
lity, some of whom attended him with their followers
before they received any summonses for that purpose,,
are proofs of wise and spirited deliberations. Their con¬
duct at this time was equally consistent with the same
plan of foresight.
It was naturally to be supposed that the Douglases,
who remained assembled in a numerous body, would
X make
672
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
449
His ene¬
mies disap¬
pointed in
their de¬
signs.
450
They are
degraded
and their
estates for¬
feited.
451
They ra¬
vage the
southern
parts.
make the attempt already mentioned ; but the royalists
had the precaution to despatch the lord Maxwell and
the baron of Lochinvar, with a body of troops, to take
possession of the town, till James could arrive with 2000
forces to their relief. Maxwell and Lochinvar made
such despatch, that they were in possession of the town
when the Douglases appeared before it, and repulsed
them ; while a most terrible storm had scattered the
troops under James before he could come to their as¬
sistance, so effectually, that, being left almost without
attendants, his person might have been taken by the
smallest party of the enemy. On the retreat of the
Douglases from Edinburgh, the parliament met; and
none of them appearing in pursuance of their summons,
the earl of Angus, his brother Sir George Douglas, his
uncle Archibald Douglas, and Alexander Drummond
of Carnock, with some of their chief dependants, were
indicted, and their estates forfeited,for the following of¬
fences : “ The assembling of the king’s lieges, with in¬
tention to have assailed his person ; the detaining of the
king against his will and pleasure, and contrary to the
articles agreed upon, for the space of two years and
more ; all which time the king was in fear and danger
of his life.We know of no advocate for the earl and
his friends but one Bannatyne, wdio had the courage to
plead their cause against those heinous charges ; and so
exasperated were both the king and parliament against
them, that the former swore he never would forgive
them, and the latter that they never would intercede
for their pardon. Thus, it was not deemed sufficient
simply to declare their resolutions; but the solemnity
of oaths was added, with an intention to discourage
the king of England from continuing the vigorous ap¬
plications he was every day making, by letters and
otherwise, for the pardon of Angus; and, to exclude
all hopes of that kind, James created his mother’s
third husband (to whom she had been married for some
time) Lord Methven, and gave him the direction of his
artillery.
The disgrace and forfeiture of the Douglases having
created many vacancies in the state, Gavin Dunbar,
archbishop of Glasgow', and tutor to the king, was no¬
minated lord chancellor, though but indifferently quali¬
fied for a post which ought to have been filled by an
able statesman ; and Robert Carncross, a person (saj^s
Buchanan) more eminent for wealth than virtue, was
made treasurer : but this last was soon after displaced,
being suspected of favouring the Douglases; and Robert
Barton, one of the king’s favourites, was appointed to
succeed him. The Douglases still kept their arms ;
and being joined by a great number of outlaws and rob¬
bers in the south, they ravaged all the lands of their
enemies, carrying their devastations to the very gates
of Edinburgh. A commission of lieutenancy was offer¬
ed to the earl of Bothwell to act against those rebels :
but he declining it, it was accepted by the earl of Ar-
gyle and Lord Hume, who did great service in protect¬
ing the country from the outlaws. Several villages,
however, in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, were
burnt; and all the provisions which the Douglases could
collect were carried off to their castle of Tantallon,
which now served as their head-quarters, and was
threatened with a siege.
It is remarkable, that the castle of Dunbar remained
still in the hands of the duke of Albany’s garrison, who
3
recognised no master but him. The place was well Scotland,
stored with artillery of all kinds; and lying in the—r—
neighbourhood of Tantallon, it was easy to transport
them to the siege: but James thought he had no right
to make use of them without the consent of one Mau¬
rice, governor of the castle. Having summoned, by
proclamation, the inhabitants of Fife, Angus, Strath-
ern, Stirlingshire, Lothian, Merse, and Teviotdale, to
be ready to compear at Edinburgh on the 10th of De¬
cember, with 40 days victuals, to assist in the siege, he
sent three noblemen to borrow artillery from Maurice,
and to remain as pledges for the safe delivery of the
same ; and the several pieces required were according¬
ly sent him. This delicacy is the more remarkable, as
we are told that the duke of Albany had given orders
that every thing in his castle should be at the king’sej jn his
service. However unanimous the parliament mightscheme of
appear against the Douglases, James was but ill second-revenSe-
ed in this attempt. This proceeding, in a country where
the Douglases had so many connexions, carried with it
an appearance of cruelty, and a thirst of revenge, e-
specially as James had chosen such a season of the
year for carrying on the siege. In short, after bat¬
tering the place for some days, and losing one Falco¬
ner, his chief engineer, the king was obliged to aban¬
don his enterprise, or rather to turn the siege into a
blockade, with no great credit to his first military at¬
tempt in the field. Some historians intimate, that An¬
gus found means to corrupt the other engineers ; but
we find, that before this time, a negociation was going
forward between James and the king of England ; the
nature of which proves that the former was now ren¬
dered more placable towards the Douglases ; and this
was the true reason why the siege was suspended.
The truce between Scotland and England was now
near expiring ; and Henry, under that pretence, gave
a commission to the prior of Durham, Thomas Mag¬
nus, Sir Anthony Ughtred, captain of the town and
castle of Berwick, William Frankelyn chancellor of
Durham, and Sir Thomas Tempest. James seems to
have been in no haste to enter upon this negociation,
because he understood that the English commissioners
were privately instructed to insist upon the Douglases
being restored to their esates and dignities. England
was at that time the principal ally of Francis against Tjie pou„
the emperor; and this gave a pretence to Francis toglasesob-
interpose so far in favour of the Douglases, that hetainase‘
brought James to consent to a preliminary negocia-
tion for their obtaining at least a secure retreat in
England. This was at last complied with.
James being now delivered from all dread of the Dou¬
glases, and under no controul from any party, showed ^
excellent dispositions for government. Finding that the re.
borderers were by no means pleased with the late treaty, dUCes the
and that they were renewing their depredations, he re-borderers,
solved to strike at the root of an evil which had so long
proved disgraceful and dangerous to his ancestors, by
giving no quarter to the chiefs of these robbers, whose
principal residence was in Liddesdale. This was the
more necessary, as their daring attempts had exasperat¬
ed the English so much, that, they had actually burnt a
town in Teviotdale; and had killed one Robert Kerr,
a man of some consequence. Two of the chiefs of the
Scotch borderers were Cockburn of Kenderlaw, and
Adam Scott, commonly called king of the thieves. Both
SCOT
wland. of them were barons ; and had been so inured to the
t -v fpractice, that they thought there was no crime in rob¬
bing ; they therefore appeared publicly in Edinburgh ;
where James ordered them to be apprehended, tried, and
hanged. He next proceeded with great firmness against
many noblemen and principal gentlemen, who were on¬
ly suspected of being disaffected to the late peace. All
of them had behaved with great loyalty, and some of
them had done him the most important services. Of
this number were the earl of Hume, the lord Maxwell,
with the barons of Buccleuch, Farniherst, Polwart,
Johnston, and Mark Kerr. Though we know nothing
particularly of what was laid to the charge of these
noblemen and gentlemen, yet so zealous was James for
the impartial administration of justice, that he ordered
them all with many other chief gentlemen of the bor¬
ders, to be sent to prison ; where they lay till they
entered into recognisances themselves, and found bail
for their good behaviour.
Of all the party of the Douglases, none of any note
excepting Alexander Drummond of Carnock was suf¬
fered to return home, at the earnest request of the am¬
bassadors, and the treasurer Barton. This lenity w as of
very little consequence; for Jameshavingappointed the
earl of Murray to be sole warden of the Scotch marches,
with powder to treat with the earl of Northumberland,
their conferences had broken off on account of fresh
violences happening every day ; and some information
he had received from them, had prevailed with James
to imprison the noblemen and gentlemen already men¬
tioned. He now resolved to attempt in person what his
predecessors and himself had so often failed to accom¬
plish by their deputies. As he was known to be vio¬
lently addicted to hunting, he summoned his nobility,
even on the north of the Forth, to attend him with their
horses and dogs ; which they did in such numbers, that
his hunting retinue consisted of above 8000 persons,
two-thirds of whom were well armed. This prepara¬
tion gave no suspicion to the borderers, as great hunt¬
ing-matches in those days commonly consisted of some
thousands; and James having set out upon his diversion,
is said to have killed 540 deer. Among the other
455 gentlemen who had been summoned to attend him, w-as
i 1gs John Armstrong of Gilnockhall. Fie was the head of
; strong,a numer0us clan, who lived in great pomp and splendour
‘ upon the contributions under which they laid the Eng-
' 126 of hsh on the borders. He wras himself always attended
1 follow- by 26 gentlemen on horseback, well mounted and arm¬
ed, as his body guard. Having received the king’s in¬
vitation, he wras fond of displaying his magnificence to
his sovereign ; and attiring himself and his guard more
pompously than usual, they presented themselves be¬
fore James, from whom they expected some particular
mark of distinction for their services against the Eng¬
lish, and for the remarkable protection they had alw ays
given to their countrymen the Scots. On their first
appearance, James, not knowing who he was, returned
Armstrong’s salute, imagining him to be some great no¬
bleman ; but upon hearing his name, he ordered him
and his followers to be immediately apprehended, and
sentenced them to be hanged upon the spot. It is said
that James, turning to his attendants, asked them, point¬
ing at Armstrong, “ What does that knave want that
a king should have, but a crown and a sword of ho¬
nour ? ” Armstrong begged hard for his life; and offer-
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
LAND. 673
ed to serve the king in the field with forty horsemen, Scotland,
besides making him large presents of jewels and money,
with many other tempting offers. Finding the king in¬
exorable, “ Fool that I am (said he) to look for w arm
wrater under ice, by asking grace of a graceless face ;’s
and then he and his followers submitted to their fate.
These and similar executions restored peace to the
borders..
456
Hitherto we have confined ourselves chiefly to the State of
civil transactions of North Britain, and have only inci- *jie
dentally noticed the ecclesiastical affairs. These are ^
now, however, to claim a considerable share of our at-ginn;n„
tention, as about this time the spirit of the reformed the icth
religion had extended itself to Scotland, where it soonceuturJ'-
made a most rapid progress.
We have seen, that for several centuries, the hier¬
archy of North Britain possessed no small degree of in¬
fluence and power ; but we have found few instances
of any remarkable respect being paid to the supremacy
of the Roman pontiff. The pope, indeed, as supreme
head of the church, had long assumed the right of con¬
secration, and this right, in the opinion of those ages,
was undoubted, according to the established law of the
Christian world. The spiritual jurisdiction of the pope
was always acknowledged ; but before the end of the
12th century, his temporal power was disputed, because
it wmuld have absorbed the sovereign right of independ¬
ent princes. After many struggles, Pope Gelestine III.
in 1188, declared the church of Scotland to be the
daughter of Rome by special grace, and to be immedi¬
ately subject to the apostolic jurisdiction. This was
considered by the Scottish clergy as a charter, by
which they were emancipated from the claims of juris¬
diction which had been brought by the English arch¬
bishops of York and Canterbury.
From the beginning of the 12th century we begin to
meet with instances of national councils of the Scottish
clergy, at which the pope’s legates assisted; but still we
find no authority assumed by the pope in temporal mat¬
ters, before the reign of Alexander II, when the people
of Scotland were excommunicated for engaging in ho¬
stilities with King John of England, then the adopted
son of the church. This excommunication, indeed,
produced but little effect, and during a reign which re¬
flected glory on the king, and w'as productive of ad¬
vantage to his kingdom, Alexander nearly established
the independence of the Scottish church.
In the progress of papal usurpation, the court of
Rome proceeded, from appropriating the revenues of
the Scottish church, to the appointment of the Scottish
bishops. This usurpation wt.s first attended with suc¬
cess in 1259, when the pope appointed his own chap¬
lain to the bishopric of Glasgow. The church of Scot¬
land, however, to show her independence on papal au¬
thority, assembled a general council at Perth in 1269.
This was called by one of their own bishops, who pre¬
sided at its meetings, and by this assembly was enacted
a body of canons, which remained the ecclesiastical
code of Scotland till the epoch of the Reformation.
Such councils continued to assemble from time to time
for correcting clerical abuses, and maintaining the
freedom of the Scottish church.
The right of presentation appears to have been exert¬
ed from the 12th century in North Britain, as it has
f 4 Q always
074 SCOT
Scotland, always been exerted in England. The bishops were
v——v—named by the king, elected by their chapters, and con¬
secrated by the pope, or by some of the other bishops.
The king appointed the rural deans, and the chancellor
of Scotland exercised the king’s right of presentation to
the smaller benefices. The barons enjoj^ed the right of
presentation to those benefices which had arisen from
their own munificence, or the piety of their ancestors.
The bishops and abbots had acquired, by the royal
charters, or grants from the barons, the right of advow-
soo over many churches, and from this right were de-
* dial- ducf d other privileges of great importance. *
mers's Ca- That form of popery which prevailed in Scotland
ledonia, was 0f the most bigotted and illiberal kind. Those
doctrines which are most apt to shock the human un¬
derstanding, and those legends which farthest exceed
belief, -were proposed to the people, without any at¬
tempt to palliate or disguise them ; nor did they ever
call in question the reasonableness of the one, or the
truth of the other.
The power and wealth of the church kept pace with
the progress of superstition ; for it is the nature of that
spirit to observe no bounds in its respect and liberality
towards those whose character it esteems sacred. The
Scottish kings early demonstrated how much they were
under its influence, by their vast additions to the immu¬
nities and riches of the clergy. The profuse piety of
David I. who acquired on that account the name of
saint, transferred almost the whole crown lands, which
were at that time of great extent, into the hands of
ecclesiastics. The example of that virtuous prince w'as
imitated by7 his successors. The spirit spread among all
orders of men, who daily loaded the priesthood with
new possessions. The riches of the church all over Eu¬
rope were exorbitant; but Scotland was one of those
countries wherein they had farthest exceeded the just
proportion. The Scottish clergy paid one half of every
tax imposed on land; and as there is no reason to
think that in that, age they would be loaded with any
unequal share of the burden, we may conclude, that by
the time of the Reformation, little less than one half of
the property in the nation had fallen into the hands of
a society, which is always acquiring, and can never lose.
The nature, too, of a considerable part of their pro¬
perty extended the influence of the clergy. Many
estates throughout the kingdom held of the church ;
church lauds were let in lease at an easy rent, and were
possessed by the younger sons and descendants of the
best families. The connexion between superior and
vassal, between landlord and tenant, created depend¬
ences, and gave rise to a union of great advantage to
the church ; and in estimating the influence of the po¬
pish ecclesiastics over the nation, these, as well as the
real amount of their revenues, must be attended to,
and taken into the account.
This extraordinary share in the national property
was accompanied with proportionable weight in the
supreme council of the kingdom. At a time when the
number of the temporal peers was extremely small, and
when the lesser barons and representatives of boroughs
seldom attended parliaments, the ecclesiastics formed a
LAND.
considerable hotly there. It appears from the ancient Scotland
rolls of parliament, and from the manner of choosing —-y—
the lords of articles, that the proceedings of that high
court must have been, in a great measure, under their
direction.
The reverence due to their sacred character, which
was often carried incredibly far, contributed not a little
towards the growth of their power. The -dignity, the
titles, and precedence of the popish clergy are remark¬
able, both as causes and effects of that dominion which
they had acquired over the rest of mankind. They
were regarded by the credulous laity as beings of a su¬
perior species; they were neither subject to the same
laws, nor tried by the same judges. Every guard that
religion could supply, was placed around their power,
their possessions, and their persons ; and endeavours
were used, not without success, to represent them all
as equally sacred.
The reputation for learning, which, however incon¬
siderable, was wholly engrossed by the clergy, added to
the reverence which they derived from religibn. The
principles of sound philosophy, and of a just taste, were
altogether unknown ; in place of these were substituted
studies barbarous and uninstructive ; but as the eccle¬
siastics alone were conversant with them, this procured
them esteem ; and a very slender portion of knowledge
drew the admiration of rude ages, which knew little.
War was the sole profession of the nobles, and hunting
their chief amusement; they divided their time between
these : unacquainted with the arts, and unimproved by
science, they disdained any employment foreign to mi¬
litary affairs, or which required rather penetration and
address, than bodily vigour. Wherever the former
were necessary, the clergy were entrusted, because they
alone were properly qualified for the trust. Almost all
high offices in civil government devolved, on this ac¬
count, on them. To all this we may add, that the
clergy being separated from the rest of mankind by the
lawTof celibacy, and undistracted by those cares, and un¬
incumbered with those burdens which occupy and op¬
press other men, the interest of their order became their
only object, and they were at full leisure to pursue it.
The nature of their function gave them access to all
persons and at all seasons. They could employ all the
motives of fear and of hope, of terror and of consolation,
which operate most powerfully on the human mind.
They haunted the weak and the credulous ; they be¬
sieged the beds of the sick and of the dying ; they suf¬
fered few to go out of the world without leaving marks
of their liberality to the church, and taught them to *so^f^
compound with the Almighty for their sins, by bestow-;aU(/5
ing riches on those who called themselves his servants. * book ii.
During the Scoto-Saxon period, there w'ere in Scot¬
land two archbishoprics, viz. those of St Andrews and
Glasgow, and ten bishoprics, viz. those of Orkney, the
Western islands, Galloway, Dunkeld, Moray, Brechin,
Dunblane, Aberdeen, Ross, and Argyle or Lismore (if).
To the archbishopric of St Andrews were attached
eight deaneries, and nine to that of Glasgow. 457
The opinions of Luther had been propagated in Bri- Accoutof
tain soon after his preaching- in 1517. They had for the Re-
some"**
(n) The bishopric of Edinburgh did not exist in that period, but was founded by Charles L
SCOTLAND.
otland. some years insensibly gained ground ; and, when the
1 "v contentions began between James and bis nobility, were
become formidable to the established religion. We
4-g have seen how James escaped from the hands of his
■ y James nobles by means of the archbishop of St Andrew’s,
i Hired To the clergy, therefore he was naturally favourable ;
i clergy. ant| as ti1Cy naturally opposed the Reformation, James
became a zealous persecutor of the reformed. On the
other hand, the nobility having already opposed the
king and clergy in civil affairs, did the same in those
of religion. The clergy finding themselves unequal in
argument, had recourse to more violent methods. Ri¬
gorous inquisitions were made after heretics, and fires
459 were everywhere prepared for them.
Patrick1* The first person who was called on to suffer for the
inilton. reformed religion was Patrick Hamilton abbot of Feme.
At an early period of life he had been appointed to
this abbacy ; and having imbibed a favourable idea of
the doctrines of Luther, had travelled into Germany,
where, becoming acquainted with the most eminent re¬
formers, he was fully confirmed in their opinions. Up¬
on his return to Scotland, he ventured to expose the
corruptions of the church, and to insist on the advan¬
tages of the tenets which he had embraced. A con¬
duct so bold, and the avidity with which his discourses
were received by the people, gave an alarm to the cler¬
gy. Under the pretence of a religious and friendly
conference, he was seduced to St Andrew's by Alex¬
ander Campbell, a Dominican friar, who was instruct¬
ed to remonstrate with him on the subject of the re¬
formation. The conversations they held only served
to establish the abbot more firmly in his sentiments,
and to inflame his zeal to propagate them. The arch¬
bishops of St Andrew’s and of Glasgow, and other
dignitaries of the church, constituting a court, called
him to appear before them.
I- 1527. The abbot neither lost his courage nor renounced
his opinions. He was accordingly convicted of here¬
tical pravity, delivered over to the secular arm, and
executed in the year 1527. (o) This reformer had not
attained the 24th year of his age. His youth, his vir-
tue> his magnanimity, and his sufferings, all operated
in his favour with the people. To Alexander Camp¬
bell, who insulted him at the stake, he objected his
treachery, and cited him to answer for his behaviour
before the judgement-seat of Christ. And this per¬
secutor, a few days after, being seized with a frenzy,
and dying in that condition, it was believed with the
greater confidence, that Mr Hamilton was an innocent
460 man and a true martyr.
icitesge- A deed so affecting, from its novelty and in its cir-
lal '.n‘ cumstances, excited throughout the kingdom an univer-
,nation. curiosity and indignation. Minute and particular
inquiries were made into the tenets of Mr Hamilton.
Converts to the new opinions were multiplying in every
quarter, and a partiality to them began to prevail even
675
among the Romish clergy themselves. Alexander Se- Scotland,
ton, the king’s confessor, took the liberty to inveigh “—v ^ '
against the errors and abuses of Popery; to neglect,
in his discourses, ail mention of purgatory, pilgrimages,
and saints ; and to recommend the doctrines of the re¬
formed. What he taught was impugned; and his bold¬
ness rising with contradiction, he defended warmly his
opinions, and even ventured to affirm, that in Scotland
there were no true and faithful bishops, if a judgment
of men in this station is to be formed from the virtues
which St Paul has required of them. A sarcasm so
just, and so daring, inflamed the whole body of the
prelacy with resentment. They studied to accomplish
his destruction: and as Mr Seton had given offence to
the king, whom he had exhorted to a greater purity of
life, they flattered themselves with the hope of con¬
ducting him to the stake; but being apprehensive of
danger, he made his escape into England.
In 1533, Henry Forest, a Benedictine friar, who An. 1333.
discovered a propensity to the reformed doctrines, was 461
not so fortunate. After having been imprisoned ^or rest'1 burn
some time in the tower of St Andrew’s, he was brought
to his trial, condemned, and led to the flames. He
had said, that Mr Hamilton was a pious man, and a
martyr; and that the tenets for which he suffered might
be vindicated. This guilt was aggravated by the dis¬
covery that Friar Forest was in possession of a New
Testament in the English language; for the priests es¬
teemed a careful attention to the Scriptures an infalli¬
ble symptom of heresy. A cruelty so repugnant to
the common sense and feelings of mankind, while it
pleased the insolent pride of the ecclesiastics, was de¬
stroying their importance, and exciting a general dis¬
position in the people to adopt, in the fullest latitude,
the principles and sentiments of the reformed.
The following year, James Beaton archbishop of St An. 1534.
Andrew’s, though remarkable for prudence and mode-^
ration, was overawed by his nephew and coadjutor (jourlay
David Beaton, and by his brethren the clergy. In and Stra¬
ins own person, or by commission granted by him, ton;
persecutions were carried on with violence. Many
were driven into banishment, and many were forced to
acknowledge what they did not believe. The more
strenuous and resolute were delivered over to punish¬
ment. Among these were two private gentlemen, Nor¬
man Gourlay and David Straton. They were tried at
Holyroodhouse before the bishop of Ross ; and, refus¬
ing to recant, were condemned. King James, who was
present, appeared exceedingly solicitous that they
should recant their opinions ; and David Straton, upon
being adjudged to the fire, having begged for his mer¬
cy, was about to receive it, when the priest proudly
pronounced, that the grace of the sovereign could not
be extended to a ci’iminal whom their law and deter¬
mination had doomed to suffer. 463
A few years after, the bishops having assembled at with seve-
4 Q 2 Edinburgh,ral otliers*
(o) His tenets were of the following import, and are enumerated in the sentence pronounced against him,
<i Man hath no free-will. Man is in sin so long as he liveth. Children, incontinent after their baptisme, are
sinners. All Christians, that be worthie to be called Christians, do know that they are in grace. No man is
justified by works, but by faith only. Good works make not a good man, but a good man doth make good
works. And faith, hope, and charity, are so knit, that he that hath the one hath the rest; and he that want-
eth the one of them wanteth the rest.” Keith, Hist, of the Church and State of Scotland, Appendix, p. 3.
SCOTLAND.
676
Scotland. Edinburgh, two Dominican friars, Killor and Beve-
k » rage, with Sir Duncan Sympson a priest, Robert For¬
rester a gentleman of Stirling, and Thomas Forrest
vicar of Dolour in Perthshire, were condemned to be
consumed in tire same fire.
An. 1539. At Glasgow, a similar scene was acted in 1539:
Hieronymus Russel a Grey-friar, and a young gentle¬
man of the narpe of Kennedy,, were accused of heresy
before the bishop of that see. Russel, when brought
to the stake, displaying an undaunted demeanour, rea¬
soned gravely with his accusers, and was only answer¬
ed with reproaches. Mr Kennedy, who was not yet
38 years of age, seemed disposed to disavow his opi¬
nions, and to sink under the weight of a cruel afflic¬
tion ; but the exhortation and example of Russel awak¬
ening his courage, his mind assumed a firmness and
constancy, his countenance became cheerful, and he
exclaimed with a joyful voice, “ Now, I defy thee,
464 Death ; I praise my God, I am ready. ”
Promotion James Beaton, the archbishop of St Andrew’s ha-
Beaton'na' a^aut; time, the ambition of David Bea¬
ton, his coadjutor, was gratified in the fullest manner.
He had before been created a cardinal of the Roman
church, and he was now advanced to the possession of
the primacy of Scotland. No Scottish ecclesiastic had
ever been invested with greater authority; and the re¬
formers had even' thing to fear from so formidable an
enemy. The natural violence of his temper had fixed
465 itself in an overbearing insolence, from the success
^ischarac-which jia(j atten(je{j j^;s y0Uth had been passed
in scenes of political intrigue, which, while it com¬
municated to him address and the knowledge of men,
corrupted altogether the simplicity and candour of his
mind. He was dark, crafty, and designing. No prin¬
ciples of justice were any bar to. his schemes ; nor did
his heart open to any impressions of pity. His ruling
passion was an inordinate love of power; and the sup¬
port of his consequence depending only on the church
©f Rome, he was animated to maintain its superstitions
with the warmest zeal. He seemed to delight in per¬
fidiousness and dissimulation; he had no religion; and
he was stained.with an inhuman cruelty, and the most
open profligacy of manners. In connexion with these Scotland
defects, he possessed a persevering obstinacy in pur- 'T-*
suing his measures, the ability to perceive and to prac¬
tise all the arts which were necessary to advance them,
and the allurements of ostentation and prodigality.
He was scarcely invested with the primacy, when he
exhibited an example of his taste for magnificence, and
of his aversion to the reformation. He proceeded to St
Andrew’s with an uncommon pomp and parade. The
earls of Huntly, Arran, Marischal, and Montrose, with
the lords Fleming, Lindsey, Erskine, and Seton, honour¬
ed him with their attendance; and there appeared in his
train, Gavin archbishop of Glasgow and lord high chan¬
cellor, four bishops, six abbots, many private gentle¬
men, and a vast multitude of the inferior clergy. In
the cathedral church of St Andrew s, from a throne
erected by his command, he harangued concerning the
state of religion and the church, to this company, and to
a crowd of other auditors. He lamented the increase
of heretics; he insisted on their audacity and contempt
of order; he said, that even in the court of the sove¬
reign too much attention was shown to them; and he
urged the strong necessity of acting against them with 4^
the greatest rigour. He informed this assembly, that Sir Jolm
he had cited Sir John Borthwick to appear before it,
for maintaining tenets of faith hostile to the church, andl,mpeacbt('
for dispersing heretical books ; and he desired that he
might he assisted in bringing him to justice. The ar¬
ticles of accusation (p) were accordingly read against
him ; but he neither appeared in his own person, nor
by any agent or deputy. He was found guilty ; and
the cardinal, with a solemnity calculated to strike with
awe and terror, pronounced sentence against him. His
goods and estate w'ere confiscated; and a painted repre¬
sentation of him was burned publicly, in testimony of
the malediction of the church, and as a memorial of his
obstinacy and condemnation. It was ordained, that in
the event of his being apprehended, he should suffer as
a heretic, without hope of grace or mercy. All Chri¬
stians, whether men or women, and of whatever degree
or condition, were prohibited from affording him any
harbour or sustenance. It was declared, that every of¬
fice
(p) They are preserved by Archbishop Spotiswood, and displaj^ great liberality of mind, in a period when phi-
losophjr may be said to have been almost unknown in Scotland. They are thus detailed by this judicious writer.
1. “ That he held the pope to have no greater authority over Christians than any other bishop or prelate had..
2. “ That indulgences and pardons granted by the pope were of no force nor effect, but devised to abuse
people, and deceive poor ignorant souis.
3. “ That bishops, priests, and other clergymen, may lawfully marry.
4. il That the heresies, commonly called heresies, of England, and their new liturgy, were commendable?
and to be embraced of all Christians.
5. “ That the people of Scotland are blinded by their clergy, and professed not the true faith.
6. “ That churchmen ought not to enjoy temporalities.
7. “ That the king ought to convert the rents of the church into other pious uses.
8.. “ That the church of Scotland ought to be governed after the manner of the English.
9. “ That the canons and decrees of the church were of no forces as being contrary to the law of God..
10. “ That the orders of the friars and monks should be abolished, as had been done in England.
11. “ That he did, openly call the pope simoniac, for that he sold spiritual things.
12. “ That he did read heretical books, and the New Testament in English, and some other treatises written
by Melancthon, Oecolampadius, and Erasmus, which he gave likewise unto others.
13. “ The last and greatest point was, that he refused to acknowledge the authority of the Roman see? or-
i>e subject thereunto, ” Hist, of the Church, p. 70,
SCOTLAND.
}68
i )inted
i nd of
i lisitor.
odaiid. fice of humanity, comfort, and sola cement, extended
to him, should be considered as criminal, and be pu¬
nished with confiscation and forfeitures.
Sir John Borthwick having been apprised of his dan¬
ger, tied into England, where he was kindly received
by Henry VIII., who employed him in negotiations
with the Protestant princes of Germany. Cardinal
Beaton perceived with concern that, this act of severity
did not terrify the people. New defections from the
church were announced to him. Andrew Cunning¬
ham, son to the master of Giencairn, James Hamil¬
ton, brother to Patrick Hamilton the martyr, and the
celebrated George Buchanan the historian, were im¬
prisoned upon suspicion of heresy; and if they had not
found means to escape, would probably have perished
at the stake. In this declining condition of Popery,
the cardinal held many mournful consultations with
the bishops. All their intrigues and wisdom were em¬
ployed to devise methods to support themselves. The
project of an inquisitorial court was conceived, and af¬
forded a distant view of the extirpation of heretics.
To erect this tribunal, they allured James V. with the
hopes of the confiscation and spoils, which might en¬
rich him, from the persecution and punishment of the
reformed. He yielded to their solicitations, and gave
them the sanction of his authotity.
A formal commission was granted', constituting a-
court of inquiry after heretics, and nominating for its
! James president Sir James Hamilton of Eennard, natural bro-
1 n,lton ther to the earl of Arran. The officious assiduity of
this man, his-ambition, and his thirst of blood, were in
a high degree acceptable to the clergy; and to this
eminence their recommendation had promoted him.
Upon the slightest suspicion he wras allowed to call any
person before him, to scrutinize his creed, and to ab¬
solve or to condemn him. A tribunal so dreadful could
not have found a director more suited to it. He was
in haste to fill the prisons of the kingdom with cul¬
prits, and was taking down in lists the names of all
those to whom heresy wras imputed by popular report,
and whom the arts of malicious men had represented
as the objects of correction and punishment. But,
while he was brooding over mischief, and multiplying
in fancy the triumphs of his wickedness, an unexpected
turn of affairs presented Hamilton himself in the light
369 of a criminal, and conducted him to the scaffold.
] jects The brother of Mr Hamilton the martyr, to avoid
] rT of persecution, had been obliged to go into banishment;
] niitoiPs but, by the intercession of his friends, he was permit-
l her. ted to return for a short time to his own country, that
he might regulate the affairs of his family. He was
connected with Sir James Hamilton; and, trusting to
the ties of blood, ventured to prolong his stay beyond
the period allowed him. This trespass was trivial.
Sir James Hamilton being willing to give a signal ex¬
ample of severity, and by this means to ingratiate
himself the more with the priesthood, took the reso¬
lution of making his own relation the victim of his
power. Mr Hamilton, attentive to his personal secu¬
rity, and not unacquainted with the most private ma¬
chinations of this inquisitor, despatched his son to the
king, who was about to pass the Forth in a barge,
and intreated him to provide for his safety, as Sir
6 of trea- James Hamilton had conspired with the house of Dou-
glas to assassinate him. James V. being at variance
err
otLiul.
no
whom
s accu-
471
with the house of Douglas, had reasons of suspicion,
and was disposed to believe every thing that is moVt ■
flagitious of fcjir James Hamilton. He.instructed the
young gentleman to go with expedition to Edinburgh,
and to open the matter to the privy-council; and that,
he might be treated with the greater respect, he fur¬
nished him with the ring which he was accustomed to
send to them on those important occasions which re¬
quired their address and activity. Sir James Hamil¬
ton was apprehended and imprisoned. An accusation
of having devised and attempted the king’s death at
different times was preferred against him. His defence
appeared to be weak and unsatisfactory. A jury, which
consisted of men of rank and character, pronounced'
him guilty; and being condemned to suffer the death Cor.demn-
of a traitor, he lost his head, and the quarters of hisecl ailtl em¬
body were exposed upon the gates of the city of Edin-cuteci'
burgh. The clergy, who could not. prevent his trial
and execution, regretted his death, but did not think
of appointing a successor to him in their court of in¬
quisition.
In other respects, however, James showed great con¬
cern for the welfare of his people. Being dissatisfied
with the ordinary administration of justice, he had re¬
course to the parliament of Paris for a model of the
like institution in Scotland. Great objections lay against
juries in cfvil matters, and to ambulatory courts of jus¬
tice. The authority of the heritable jurisdictions was 472-:
almost exclusive of all law; for though the king might James re¬
preside in them, yet he seldom did so; and appeals be- gulates the-
fore the council were disagreeable and expensive. Thefou!ts of
institution of thelords of articles threw too much weight
into their scale, as no business could be transacted in
parliament but what they allowed or permitted; and
it was always in the power of the king to direct them
as he pleased. The true source of the public grievan¬
ces, in matters of property, lay in the disregard shown
to the excellent acts which had past during the reigns of
the first three James’s, and which had not been suffici¬
ently supported in the late reigns. The evil had ga¬
thered strength during the minority of Janies V.; and
he resolved to establish a standing jury for all matters of
law and equity (for, properly speaking, the court of
session in Scotland is no more), with a president, who
was to be the mouth of the assembly. On the 13th
of May, 1532, as we find by a curious manuscript, in An. 1552.
the British museum, the lords of the articles laid ^e*Qr;^hfof
fore the parliament the proposition for instituting thistiie ’coult
court, in the following words: “ Item, anent (concern-of session*,
ing) the second artickel concerning the order of jus¬
tice ; because our sovereign lord is maist desirous to
have an permanent order of justice for the universal of
all his lieges; and therefore tendis to institute an col¬
lege of cunning and wise men for doing and administra¬
tion of justice in all civil actions: and therefore thinke
to be chosen certain persons maist convenient and qua¬
lified yair (there), to the number of fifteen persons,,
half spiritual, half temporal, with an president. ”
In the year 1533, hostilities were recommenced with An.
England; but after some slight incursions on both sides, 47.4
a truce again took place. The most remarkable trans-,.;^0^"
actions of this period, however, next to the reiigiousthe king’s •
persecutions already mentioned, were the negociationsmarriag©*-
for the king’s marriage. Indeed, there is scarcely any
monarch- mentioned in history who seems to have had a
greater;
b < 6
S C O T L A N D.
Scotland, greater variety of choice, or whom it was more difli-
'——v~—' cult to please. The situation of affairs on the continent
of Europe, had rendered Scotland a kingdom of great
consequence, as holding the balance bet ween France,
England, and the empire of Germany; and each of
the rival powers endeavoured to gain the favour of
An. 1534. James, by giving him a wife.—In 1534, King Francis
offered him his daughter ; and the match was strongly
recommended by the duke of Albany, who was still
475 living in France, and served James with great fidelity.
Oik-rs of Yjjg savne year the Imperial ambassador arrived in Scot-
rov of Gor- an^ presented, in the name of his master, the or-
ma.ny. der of the Golden Fleece to James, who had already been
invested with that of St Michael by Francis. At the
same time, he offered him his choice of three princesses;
Mary of Austria, the emperor’s sister, and widow of
Lewis king of Hungary ; Mary of Portugal, the
daughter of his sister Eleonora of Austria ; or Mary of
England, the daughter of Catharine and Henry. An¬
other condition, however, was annexed to this propo¬
sal, viz. that, to suppress the heresies of the time, a
council should be held for obviating the calamities
which threatened the Christian religion. These propo¬
sals would have met with a more ready acceptance
from James, had not his clergy, at this time, been dis-
476 gusted with Charles, for allowing too great a latitude
which are to the Protestants of Germany. James, in his answer,
Jamcs^ ^ returne(l emperor his acknowledgments in the most
“ * ‘ polite terms, for the splendid alliances he had offered.
He mentioned the proposal of the council as being a
measure rather to be wished for than expected; because
it ought to he free and holy, and upon the model of
the first councils ; its members consisting of the most
charitable, quiet, and disinterested part of the clergy.
He said, that if such a council could be obtained, he
would willingly send ecclesiastics to it; but if not, that
every prince ought to reform the errors of doctrine,
and the faults of the clergy, within his own dominions.
He bewailed the obstinate conduct of his uncle in lus
divorce and marriage; and offered his best offices for
effecting a reconciliation between him and the emperor,
wishing that all the princes of Christendom tvould unite
their arms against their common enemy the Turks.
He hinted, very justly, that his Imperial majesty had
offered more than he could perform; because his cou¬
sin, Mary of England, was not at his disposal. The
ambassador replied, that his master, if persuasion failed,
would compel Henry by force of arms to resign her.
James answered this ridiculous declaration by observ¬
ing, that the emperor then would be guilty of a breach
of all laws both divine and human; that it would be
impolitic to give a preference to any of the three prin¬
cesses, all of them being so illustrious and deserving ;
but, to show how much he valued an alliance with his
Imperial majesty, he would become a suppliant to that
prince for his niece, daughter to Christiern king of
Denmark, to become his bride. The ambassador’s an¬
swer to this unexpected req'uest was, that she was al¬
ready betrothed to the count palatine, and that before
that time the marriage was probably completed.
But whether the Imperial ambassador had any right
to offer the English princess or not, it is agreed by most
historians, that James was offered either Mary or Eliza¬
beth by their father Henr} himself. To Mary of Bour¬
bon, the daughter of the duke of Vendosme, he is said
Scotland
to have been contracted ; but for some reason all these
matches were broken off; and the king at last went to 1
France, where he married Magdalen the eldest daugh-
ter of Francis. The nuptials were celebrated at Paris ^ mam
in the year 1537, with great magnificence; and among France! j
other things served up by way of dessert at the mar- daughter.!
riage-feast, w ere a number of covered cups filled with An-1531
pieces of gold and gold-dust, the native produce of
Scotland, which James distributed among the guests.
This gold was found in the mines of Crawford-moor,
which were then worked by the Germans. In the be¬
ginning of May, the royal pair embarked for Leith,
under convoy of four large ships of war, and landed 478
on the 28th of the same month. The joy of the Scots who dies
was inexpressible, but it was of short continuance; 50011 aftu
for the young queen died of a fever on the 22d of July
the same year.
King James did not long remain a widower; for the
same year he sent Beaton abbot of Arbroath, to nego-
ciate his second marriage with a French lady, Mary of
Guise, dutchess-dowager of Longueville. In this he
was rivalled by his uncle Henry VIII., but not before
James had been contracted to her. But this was no- vailed by
thing to Henry; for he not only insisted on having J11S uncle
this lady for his wife, but threw out some menaces a-111 a ?eC01
gainst Francis, because he would not comply with this ’ITili
unjustifiable request. In January 1538, she was mar¬
ried to James, and escorted to Scotland by the admi¬
ral of France with a considerable squadron; as both
James and Francis were suspicious that Henry would
make some attempt to intercept the royal bride. But
nothing of this kind happened, and she landed safely
at Fifeness; whence she was conducted to the king at
St Andrew’s. 4g0
But while James appeared thus to be giving himself Cruel exe
up to the pleasures of love, he was in other respects cution of
showing himself a bloody tyrant. Some differences^,^0
subsisted between the families of Gordon and Forbes in Forbes,
the north. The heir of the house last mentioned had
been educated in a loose dissipated manner, and asso¬
ciated with a worthless fellow named Strahan. Having
refused this favourite something he had asked, the latter
attached himself to Gordon earl of Huntly, who, it is
said, assisted him in forming a charge of treason against
Forbes. He was accused of intending to restore the
Douglases to their forfeited estates and honours; which
improbable story being supported by some venal evi¬
dences, the unhappy young man was condemned and
executed as a traitor. The king could not but see the
injustice of this execution; and, in order to make some
compensation for it, banished Strahan. The following
execution, which happened a few days after, was much
more inhuman, insomuch that it would have stained the
annals even of the most despotic tyrant. The earl of
Angus, finding that he could not regain the favour of
the king, had recourse to the method usual in those
days, viz. the committing of depredations on the bor¬
ders. i ids crime was sufficient with James to occasion 4si
the death ot his innocent sister, the dowager-lady of and of tM
Glammis. She had been* addressed by one Lyon, whom
shfi had rejected in favour of a gentleman of the name of
Campbell. Lyon, exasperated at this repulse, found
means of admittance to James, whom he filled with the
greatest terrors on account of the practices of the family
of Angus; and at last charged the lady, her husband,
and
!82
I th of
ti (ms-
b 1.
185
1 king
s d with
a id of
d action.
i 1540.
SCOT L
oila-.ul and an old priest, with a design of poisoning the king in
-y order to restore Angus. The parties were all remark¬
able for their quiet and innocent lives; but even this
circumstance was by their diabolical accuser turned to
their prejudice, by representing it as the effect of cun¬
ning or caution. In this reign an accusation of treason
was always followed by condemnation. The evidence
against the lady, however, appeared so absurd and con¬
tradictory, that some of the judges were for dropping
the prosecution, and others for recommending her case
to the king : but the majority prevailed to have it de¬
termined by a jury, who brought her in guilty; and she
was condemned t(5 be burnt alive on the Castle-hill of
Edinburgh. The defence made by her would have
done honour to the ablest orator, and undeniably proved
her innocence; but though it was reported to James, it
was so far from mitigating her sentence, that it was ag¬
gravated by her husband being obliged to behold her
execution. The unhappy husband himself endeavoured
to make his way over the castle wall of Edinburgh ;
but the rope proving too short, he was dashed in pieces;
and Lord Glammis her son, though hut a child, was
imprisoned during the remainder of this reign. The
old priest, though put to the torture, confessed no¬
thing, and was freed. Lyon, like the other accuser
already mentioned, was banished.
Whether these and other cruelties had affected the
king’s conscience, or whether his brain had been deran¬
ged by the distractions of the different parties, is un¬
known ; but it is certain, that, in the year 1540, he
began to live retired : his palace appeared like the cloi¬
stered retreat of monks ; his sleep wras haunted by the
most frightful dreams, which he construed into appari¬
tions ; and the body of Sir James Hamilton, whose exe¬
cution has already been mentioned, seemed continually
presented to his eyes. Perhaps the loss of his two sons,
who died on the same day that Sir James was executed,
might have contributed to bring this man more remark¬
ably to his remembrance. No doubt, it added to the
gloom of his mind; and he now saw his court aban¬
doned by almost all his nobility.
At last James was in some degree roused from his
l! ??nce by the preparations made against him by his
Sl and uncle Henry VIII. of England. Some differences had
already taken place ; to accommodate which, Henry
had desired a conference with James at York. But this
the latter, by the advice of his parliament, had declined.
The consequence was a rupture between the two courts,
and the English had taken 20 of the Scots trading ves¬
sels. Henry threatened to revive the antiquated claim
of the English superiority over Scotland, and had given
orders for a formidable invasion of the Scotch borders.
He complained that James had usurped his title of De¬
fender of the Faith, to which he had added the word
Christian, implying that Henry was an infidel : but the
kings of Scotland had, sometime before, been compli¬
mented by the papal see with that title. James, on the
other hand, turned his attention towards Ireland, the
north of which was peopled will) inhabitants who own¬
ed no sovereign but the king of Scotland, and who of¬
fered to sei ve James against the English ; some of their
chiefs having actually repaired to Scotland, and done
homage to James. Elenry had, about this time, declar¬
'd byed himself king of Ireland, of which he was before
inSs- only styled the lord ; and James strenuously asserted,
3
J ilities
5
Jve-
y of
d
A N D. G'lO
that he had a preferable claim to at least one half of Scotland,
that island, which had been peopled by the subjects of ‘ v—
Scotland. Though the Scottish historians of this reign
take very little notice of this incident, yet James ap¬
pears to have been very tenacious of his title; and
that there was a great intercourse carried on between
the subjects of Scotland and the northern Irish, who
unanimously acknowledged Janies for their natural so¬
vereign. Indeed, this was the only ground of quarrel
that the king, with the least shadow of justice, could
allege against Henry. 48G
His parliament being met, many public spirited acts An act of
were passed ; and before the assembly was dissolved, indemnity
the members renewed the acts against leasing-makino' •for cr'.mes
by winch is meant the misrepresenting of the king to amin-r the
bis nobles, or the nobles to their king : and James, to king’s mi-
dismiss them in good humour, passed an act of free nor‘T*
grace for all crimes committed in his minority ; the
earl of Angus, and Sir George and Sir Archibald
Douglas, being excepted.
Henry, after cutting off the head of his wife Ca¬
tharine Howard, married and divorced the princess
Anne of Cleves, and found himself either deserted or
distrusted by all the piinees on the continent, Prote¬
stant as well as Catholic. James and his clergy relied
greatly on this public odium incurred by Henry ; but 487
the emperor having again quarrelled with Francis, left Prepara-
Henry, whose dominions they had threatened jointly to tlons of
invade, at liberty to continue his preparations againstIIcnry’
the Scots. Henry first ordered his fleet, then the most
formidable of any in the world, to make fresh descents
upon Scotland. At the same time, he appointed a very
considerable army to rendezvous upon the borders, un¬
der the command of Sir Robert Bowes, one of his war¬
dens, the earl of Angus, and his two brothers Sir George
and Sir Archibald Douglas. James was every day ex¬
pecting supplies of money, arms, and other necessaries
from Francis ; but these not arriving, he reassembled
his parliament on the 14th of March, which gratified
him in all his demands. Many excellent regulations
were made for the internal government, peace, and se¬
curity of the kingdom, and against the exportation of
money instead of merchandise. Acts*were passed for
fortifying and embellishing the town of Edinburgh, and
for better supplying the subjects with wine and all the
other necessaries of life. The royal revenue was in¬
creased by many additional estates; and there was com¬
pleted one of the best plans for a national militia that-
perhaps ever appeared. As yet, excepting in the dis¬
appointment which Henry met with from his nephew in
not meeting him at York, he had no grounds for com- 488
mencing hostilities. But it is here proper to observe, Death of
that the queen-mother was then dead; and consequent- the queen¬
ly the connexion between James and Henry was weak- nH)tlier'
ened. Whatever her private character might be, she
was certainly a happy instrument of preventing blood¬
shed between the two kingdoms. She was buried with
royal honours at Perth.
James, to all appearance, was at this time in a most
desirable situation. His domain, by forfeitures and o-
therwise, far exceeded that of any of his predecessors.
He could command the purses of his clergy ; he had
large sums of ready money in his exchequer ; his forts
were well stored and fortified ; and he was now daily
receiving remittances of money, arms, and ammunition
. from
S C O T L A N D.
630
Scotland, ‘from Franc?. All this~!iappinss9, however, was only
' apparent; for the directions of his nobility, and the
j 1wiser part of his subjects, were now alienated from
the aftec- him more than ever, by his excessive attachment to
tions of his bigotry and persecution.
subjects. ue j13j nominated the earl of Huntly to command
An. lodi. jjjg army on the borders, consisting of 10,000 men ;
and his lieutenant-general was Sir Walter Lindsay of
Torphichen, who had seen a great deal of foreign ser¬
vice, and was esteemed an excellent officer. Huntly
•acquitted himselfadmirably in his commission ; and was
so well served by his spies, as to have certain intelli¬
gence that the English intended to surprise and burn
Jedburgh and Kelso. The English army under Sir .Ro¬
bert Bowes and the Douglases, with other northern
Englishmen, continued still on the borders ; and one of
the resolutions which the Scotch nobility and gentry had
formed, was, not to attack them on their own ground,
nor to act offensively, unless their enemies invaded
Scotland. Huntly being informed that the English had
advanced, on the 2fth of August, to a place called
Haldaiirig, and that they had destroyed great part of
the Scotch and debateable lands, resolved to engage
them : and the English were astonished, when at day-
490 break they saw the Scotch army drawn up in order of
The Eng- battle. Neither party could now retreat without fight-
'd'b^the' iHg’ anc^ Torphichen, who led the van, consisting of
eerl of C 2000 of the best troops of Scotland, charged the Eng-
Huntly. lish so furiously, that Huntl v gained a complete and an
easy victory. Above 200 of the English were killed,
and 600 taken prisoners ; among whom were their ge¬
neral Sir Robert Bowes, Sir William Moubray, and
about 60 of the most distinguished northern barons ; the
earl of Angus escaping by the swiftness of his horse.
The loss of the Scots was inconsiderable.
In the mean time, the duke of Norfolk having raised
a great army, had orders to march northwards, and to
distribute a manifesto, complaining of James for having
disappointed Henry in the interview at York, and re¬
viving the ridiculous claim of his own and his ancestors
superiority over the kingdom of Scotland. It was plain,
from the words of this manifesto, that Henry was still
placable towards James ; and that he would easily have
dropt that claim, if his nephew would make any per¬
sonal advances towards a reconciliation.
The condition of James was now deplorable. The
few faithful counsellors whom he had about him, such
as Kirkaldy of Grange, who was then lord treasurer,
plainly intimated, that he could have no dependence on
^ his nobles, as he was devoted to the clergy ; and James,
Distraction sometimes, in a fit of distraction, would draw his dag-
of James, ger on the cardinal and other ecclesiastics when they
came to him with fresh propositions of murder and pro¬
scriptions, and drive them out of his presence. But he
had no constancy of mind ; and he certainly put into
his pocket a bloody scroll that had been brought him
by his priests, beginning with the earl of Arran, the
first subject of the kingdom. In one of his cooler
moments, he appointed the lord Erskine, and some
other of his nobility, to make a fresh attempt to gain
time ; and Henry even condescended to order the duke
of Norfolk (who was then advanced as far as York),
the lord privy seal, the bishop of Durham, and others,
to treat with him. The conferences were short and un¬
successful. The duke bitterly complained, that the
1
Scots sought only to amuse him till the season for ac- Scotland,
tion was over. In short, he considered both them and —r—*
Learmouth, who were ordered to attend him, as so many 490
spies, and treated them accordingly. It was the 21st The duke
of October before he entered the eastern borders ofof
Scotland. According to the Scottish historians, his^J^^
army consisted of 10,000 men ; but the English have fbrmidabl
fixed it at 20.000. army.
James affected to complain of this invasion as being
unprovoked ; but he lost no time in preparing to repel
the danger. The situation of his nobility, who were
pressed by a foreign invasion on the one hand, and do¬
mestic tyrants on the other, induced them to hold fre¬
quent consultations ; and in one of them, they resolved
to renew the scene that had been acted at Lawder-
bridge under James III. by hanging all his grandson’s
evil counsellors. The Scots historians say, that this Conspiracl
resolution was not executed, because the nobility could against
not agree about the victims that were to be sacrificed ;Limes’s&
and that the king, who was encamped with his armyvount®*
at Falla-moor, having intelligence of their consultation,
removed hastily to Edinburgh ; from which he sent
orders for his army to advance, and give battle to the
duke of Norfolk, who appears not as yet to have en¬
tered the Scotch borders. The answer of the nobility
was, that they were determined not to attack the dukfe
on English ground ; but that if he invaded Scotland,
they knew their duty. The earl of Huntly, who
commanded the van of the Scottish army, consisting of
10,000 men, was of the same opinion : but no sooner
did Norfolk pass the Tweed, than he harassed the
English army, cut off their foraging parties, and dis¬
tressed them in such a manner, that the duke agreed
once more to a conference for peace ; which was mana- Tht EngJ
>ged, on the part of the Scots, by the bishop af Ork- lEh oblige!
ney and Sir James Learmouth; but nothing was con-toretreat’
eluded. The English general, finding it now impossible
on many accounts to prosecute his invasion, repassed
the Tweed ; and was harassed in his march by the earl
of Huntly, who desisted from the pursuit the moment
his enemies gained English ground. 49-
James, whose army at this time amounted to above xiie Scot-
30,000 men, continued still at Edinburgh, from which refuse to
he sent frequent messages to order his nobility and ge-Pursue‘
nerals to follow the duke of Norfolk into England;
but these were disregarded. James was flattered, that
now he had it in his power to be revenged for all the
indignities that had been offered by England to Scot¬
land. In this he was encouraged by the French am¬
bassador, and the high opinion he had of his own
troops. About the beginning of November, he came
to a resolution of reassembling his army, which was dis¬
banded after the duke of Norfolk’s retreat. This pro¬
ject appeared so plausible and so promising, that several
of the nobility are said to have agreed to it, particu¬
larly the lord Maxwell, the earls af Arran, Cassilis,
and Glencairn, with the lords Fleming, Somerville, and
Erskine : others represented, but in vain, that the arms
of Scotland had already gained sufficient honour, by
obliging the powerful army of the English, with their
most experienced general at their head, to make a
shameful retreat before a handful; that the force of
Scotland was inferior to that of England ; and that an
honourable peace was still practicable. It was said, in
reply to those considerations, that the state of the quar-
SCOTLAND.
ictland. rel was now greatly altered; that Henry had in his
-v—' manifesto declared his intention of enslaving their coun¬
try ; that he treated the nobility as his vassals; that the
duke of Norfolk had been guilty of burning the dwell¬
ings of the defenceless inhabitants, by laying about 20
villages and towns in ashes; and that no Scotchman,
who was not corrupted by Henry’s gold, would op-
496 pose the king’s will. The last, perhaps, was the chief
iseut'to argument that prevailed on the lord Maxwell, a noble-
a(je man of great honour and courage, to agree to carry the
gland, war into England by Solway, provided he were at the
head of 10,000 men. It was at last agreed that the
earl of Arran and the cardinal should openly raise men,
as if they intended to enter the eastern marches, where
they were to make only a feint, while the lord Max¬
well was to make the real attempt upon the west. Pri¬
vate letters were everywhere circulated to raise those
■who were to serve under the lord Maxwell; among
whom were the earls of Cassilis and Glencairn, the lords
Fleming, Somerville, Erskine, and many other persons
of great importance. James, who never was suspect¬
ed of pusillanimity, would probably have put himself
at the head of this expedition, had he not been dis¬
suaded from it by his priests and minions, who remind¬
ed him of the consultations at Falla-moor, and the
other treasonable practices of the nobility. They
added, that most of them being corrupted by English
gold, he could not be too much on his guard. He
was at last persuaded to repair to the castle of Loch-
maben or Carlaverock, and there to wait the issue of
497 the inroad.
rd Max- was probably at this place that James was pre-
edS|^er'vailed on to come to the fatal resolution of appointing
com- one Oliver Sinclair, a son of the house of Roslin, and
nd by a favourite minion at court, to command the army in
ver Sm- chief; and his commission was made out accordingly.
On the 23d of November, the Scots began their march
at midnight; and having passed the Esk, all the ad¬
jacent villages were seen in flames by the break of day.
Sir Thomas Wharton, the English warden of those
marches, the bastard Dacres, and Musgrave, hastily
raised a few troops, the whole not exceeding 500 men,
and drew them up on an advantageous ground; when
Sinclair, ordering the royal banner to be displayed, and
being mounted on the shoulders of two tall men, pro¬
duced and read his commission. It is impossible to
imagine the consternation into which the Scots were
thrown on this occasion; and their leaders setting the
example, the whole army declared (according to the
Scotch authors), that they would rather surrender
themselves prisoners to the English, than submit to be
498 commanded by such a general. In an instant, all order
meful?' 'n the Scotch army was overturned; horse and foot,
eated a^t soldiers and scullions, noblemen and peasants, were
Solway intermingled. It was easy for the English general to
ss‘ perceive this confusion, and perhaps to guess at its
cause. A hundred of his light horse happened to ad¬
vance: they met no resistance: the nobles were the first
who surrendered themselves prisoners ; and the rest of
the English advancing, they obtained a bloodless vic¬
tory ; for even the women and the boys made prisoners
of Scotch soldiers, and few or none were killed. The
lord Herbert relates the circumstances of this shameful
affair with some immaterial differences; but agrees on
the whole with the Scots authorities. Ho mentions,
Vol. XVIII. Part H.
681
however, no more than 800 common soldiers having Scotland,
been made prisoners. The chief of the prisoners were 1
the earls of Cassilis and Glencairn, the lords Maxwell,
Fleming, Somerville, Oliphant, and Gray, with above
200 gentlemen.
James was then at Carlaverock, which is about 12
miles distant from the place of action, depressed in his
spirits, and anxious about the event of the expedition,
which is to this day called the Raid of Solway moss.
When the news reached him, and he learned that the
earl of Arran and the cardinal were returned to Edin¬
burgh, he was seized with an additional dejection of jarn4e9s9y
mind, which brought him to his grave. In such a situ- dies of
ation, every cruel action of his former life wounded grief, 14th
his conscience ; and he at last sunk into a sullen melan- December
choly, which admitted of no consolation. From Car-
laverock he removed to Falkland ; and was sometimes
heard to express himself as if he thought that the whole
body of the nobility were in a conspiracy against his
person and dignity. The presence of the few attend¬
ants who were admitted into his chamber, and who
were the wicked instruments of his misconduct, seemed
to aggravate his sufferings, and he either could not or
would not take any sustenance. His death being now
inevitable, Beaton approached his bed-side with a pa¬
per, to which he is said to have directed the king’s
hand, pretending that it wras his last-will. On the 10th
of December, while James was in this deplorable state,
a messenger came from Linlithgow, with an account
that the queen was brought to bed of a daughter; and
the last words he was distinctly heard to say, were, “ It
will end as it began ; the crown came by a lass, and
it will go by a lass. ” He then turned his face to the
wall, and in broken ejaculations pronounced the words
Solway moss, and some faint expressions alluding to the
disgrace he suffered. In this state he languished
for some days ; for it is certain he did not survive
the 14th. _ . 500
James V.was succeeded by his infant daughter Mary, is succeed,
whose birth we have already mentioned. James haded by Ma-
taken no steps for the security of his kingdom, so thatr>’-
ambitious men had now another opportunity of throw¬
ing the public affairs into confusion. The situation of 50I
Scotland indeed at this time was very critical. Many Critical si-
of the nobility were prisoners in England, and those who tuation of
remained at home were factious and turbulent. The na-:ll]airs‘
tion was dispirited by an unsuccessful war. Commo¬
tions were daily excited on account of religion, and Hen¬
ry VIII. had formed a design of adding Scotland to his
other dominions. By a testamentary deed, which Car¬
dinal Beaton had forged in the name of his sovereign,
he was appointed tutor to the queen and governor of
the realm, and three of the principal nobility were
named to act as his counsellors in the administration.
The nobility and the people, however, callingin question
the authenticity of this deed, which he could not esta¬
blish, the cardinal was degraded from the dignity he
had assumed; and the estates of the kingdom advanced ^
to the regency James Hamilton, earl ot Arran, whom j?ar] 0f
they judged to be entitled to this distinction, as the se- ranappoiut-
cond person of the kingdom, and the nearest heir, after ed regent.
Mary, to the crown.
The disgrace of Cardinal Beaton might have proved
the destruction of his party, if the earl of Arran had
been endowed with vigour of mind and ability. But
f 4 R his
682
SCOTLAND.
to read the
scriptures
in their
raother-
toague.
Scotland, his views were circure?cribed ; and he did not compen¬
sate for this defect by any firmness of purpose. He
was too indolent to gain partisans, and too irresolute to
fix them. Slight difficulties filled him with embarrass¬
ment, and great ones overpowered him. His enemies,
applying themselves to the timidity of his disposition,
betrayed him into weaknesses; and the esteem which
his gentleness had procured him in private life, was lost
in the contempt attending his public conduct, which
was feeble, fluctuating, and inconsistent.
He he- The attachment which the regent was known to
comes po- profess for the reformed religion, procured him the love
puiar on cf the people ; his high birth, and the mildness of his
tis”attach^ v’rtues> conci'iated their respect; and from the circum-
mc t to the stance, that h name was at the head of the roll of he-
reforma- reties which me clergy had present*.d to the late king,
tion. a sentiment of tenderness was mingled with his populari¬
ty. His conduct at first corresponded with the impres¬
sions entertained in his favour. Thomas Guillame and
John Rough, two celebrated preachers, were invited
to live in his bouse; and he permitted them to de¬
claim openly against the errors of the church of Rome.
They attacked anel exposed the supremacy of the pope,
the worship of images, and the invocation of saints.
Cardinal Beaton and the prelates were exceedingly pro¬
voked, and indefatigably active in defence of the esta-
505 blished doctrines.
The people This public sanction afforded to the reformation was
permitted 0f fittle consequence, however, when compared with a
measure which was soon after adopted by Robert Lord
Maxwell. He proposed, that the liberty of reading the
scriptures in the vulgar tongue should be permitted to
the people ; and that, for the future, no heretical guilt
should be imputed to any person for having them in his
possesion, or for making use of them. The regent and
the three estates acknowledged the propriety of this pro¬
posal. Gavin Dunbar archbishop of Glasgow, and chan¬
cellor of Scotland, protested, indeed, for himself and for
the church, that no act on this subject should pass and
he effectual, till a provincial council of all the clergy of
the kingdom should consider and determine whether
there was a necessity that the people should consult and
study the scriptures in the vulgar tongue. But his pro¬
testation being disregarded, the bill of the lord Maxwell
was carried into a law, and the regent made it general¬
ly known by proclamation.
From this period copies of the Bible were import¬
ed in great numbers from England ; and men, allured
by an appeal so flattering to their reason, were proud
to recover from the supine ignorance in which they
had been kept by an artful priesthood. To read be¬
came a common accomplishment; and books were mul¬
tiplied in every quarter, which disclosed the pride, the
tyranny, and the absurdities of the Romish church and
.t06 superstitions.
Hen.VIII. The death of James V. proved very favourable to
proposes to fbe ambitious designs of Henry. He now proposed
tiiiite tbe an unjon 0f t|)e tw0 kingdoms by the marriage of his
bv themar-son Edward \ i. with Mary the young queen or bcot-
riageof Ed- land. To promote this, he released the noblemen w ho
ward \ I. ila(j fieen taken prisoners at Solw ay, after having en¬
gaged them, on oath, not only to concur in promoting
the alliance, but to endeavour to procure him the charge
and custody of the young queen, with the government
si her kingdom, and the possession of her castles. The
1
with Marv.
earl of Angus and his brother, who had been fifteen Scotland.
years in exile, accompanied them to Scotland, and  r—
brought letters from Henry recommending them to the
restitution of their honours and estates. The regent
was inclined to favour the demands of persons of such
eminent station ; but though the states w'ere inclined
to the marriage, they refused to permit the removal of
the queen into England, and treated w ith contempt the
idea of giving the government of Scotland and the care
of the castles to the king of England. Sir Ralph Sad ¬
ler, the English ambassador, exerted all his endeavours
to induce the regent to comply with the requisitions of
his master ; but all his intrigues were unsuccessful; and
Henry perceiving that he must depart from such extra- jj ,0?7
vagant conditions, at last authorized the commissioners from some?
to consent to treaties of amity and marriage, on the of his pro.
most favourable terms that could be procured. In con-P0sals-
sequence of these powers given to the commissioners,
it was agreed that a firm peace and alliance should take
place between the two nations, and that they should
mutually defend and protect each other in case of an
invasion. The queen was to remain within her own
dominions till she was ten years of age; and Henry
was not to claim any share in the government. Six
nobles, or their apparent heirs, were to be surrendered
to him in security for the conveyance of the young
queen into England, and for her marriage with Prince
Edward, as soon as she was ten years of age. It was
also stipulated, that though the queen should have is¬
sue by Edward, Scotland should retain not only its
name, but its laws and liberties.
These conditions, however advantageous to Scot- xho recent
land, did not give entire satisfaction. Cardinal Bea-opposedbj
ton, who had been imprisoned on pretence of treason- Cardinal
able schemes, and was now released from his confine- IEaton»
ment by the influence of the queen dowager, took all
opportunities of exclaiming against the alliance, as
tending to destroy the independence of the kingdom.
He pointed out to the churchmen the dangers which
arose from the prevalence of heresy, and urged them
to unanimity and zeal. Awakening all their fears and
selfishness, they granted him a large sum of money
with which he might gain partisans ; the friars were
directed to preach against the treaties with England ;
and fanatics were instructed to display their rage in
offering indignities to Sir Ralph Sadler. 509
Cardinal Beaton was not the only antagonist withand by se-
whom the regent had to deal. The earls of Argyle, veral noble-
Huntly, Bothwel, and Murray, concurred in the oppo- men»
sition; and having collected some troops, and possessed
themselves of the queen’s person, they assumed ail the
authority. They were joined by the earl of Lenox, who
w as led to hope that he might espouse the queen-dowa¬
ger and obtain the regency. He was also inclined to
oppose the earl of Arran, from an ancient quarrel which
had subsisted between their two families; and from a
ciaim which he had to supersede him, not only in the
enjoyment of his personal estates, but in the succession
to the crown. The regent, alarmed at such a power¬
ful combination against him, inclined to attend to some
advances which were made him by the queen-dow ager
and cardinal. To refuse to confirm the treaties, after
he had brought them to a conclusion, was, however, a
step so repugnant to probity, that he could not be pre¬
vailed on to adopt it. He therefore, in a solemn man¬
ner.
SCOT
Gotland, ner, ratified them in the abbey-church of Holyrood-
—v 1 house, and commanded the great seal of Scotland to be
510 affixed to them. The same day he went to St Andrew’s,
nfthe an(^ issued a mandate to the cardinal, requiring him to
aties of return to his allegiance. To this the prelate refused to
ity and pay any attention, or to move from his castle; on which
rnf“pe the regent denounced him as a rebel, and threatened
^ 11^~ to compel him to submission by military force. But
511 in a few days after, the pusillanimous regent meeting
■ aban- with Beaton, forsook the interest of Henry VIII. and
I is the embraced that of the (jueen dowager and of France,
hglish Being in haste also to reconcile himself to the church
fre^ ^ome- he renounced publicly, at Stirling, the opi-
mces the nions of the reformed, and received absolution from
IDtestant the hands of the cardinal.
gion. gy thjg mean-spirited conduct the regent exposed
himself to universal contempt, while Cardinal Beaton
usurped the whole authority. The Earl of Lenox,
finding that he had no hopes of success in his suit to the
queen-dowager, engaged in negociations with Henry,
to place himself at the head of the Scottish lords who
512 were in the English interest, and to assert the cause of
!nry’s the reformation. The consequence of all this was a
rupture with England. Henry not only delayed to
ratify the treaties on his part, but ordered all the Scot¬
tish ships in the harbours of England to be taken and
confiscated. This violent proceeding inflamed the na¬
tional disgusts against the English alliance ; and the
party of the cardinal and queen-dowager thus obtained
an increase of popularity. Henry himself, however,
was so much accustomed to acts of outrage and vio¬
lence, that he seemed to think the step he had just now
taken a matter of no moment; and therefore he de¬
manded that the hostages, in terms of the treaty of
marriage, should still be delivered up to him. But the
cardinal and regent informed his ambassador, Sir Ralph
Sadler, that from their own authority they could not
command any of the nobles to be committed to him
as hostages ; and that the offensive strain of behaviour
assumed by the English monarch might have altered the
515 sentiments of the Scottish parliament with regard to a
f neg°- measure of such importance. After much altercation,
ken off ^ie conferences were broken off; and as the lords who
' were released from captivity had promised to return
prisoners to England, it now remained with them to
fulfil their engagements. None of them, however, had
the courage to do so, except the earl of Cassilis ; and
Henry, being struck with his punctilious sense of ho-
514 nour, dismissed him loaded with presents.
e queen Cardinal Beaton being thus in possession of power,
wned. toot measures to secure it. The solemnity of the co¬
ronation of the young queen was celebrated at Stirling.
A council was chosen to direct and assist the regent in
the greater affairs of state, and at the head of this was
the queen-dowager. John Hamilton, the abbot or
Paisley, who had acquired an ascendency over the re¬
gent, was also promoted to the privy seal, and made
treasurer of the kingdom ; and Cardinal Beaton, upon
the request of the regent and the three estates, accept-
515 ed the office of lord high chancellor.
mi,y After the flatteries and the hopes with which the
S earl of Lenox had been amused, the cardinal had rea-
atonand son to dread the utmost warmth of his resentment. He
earl Of had, therefore, written to Francis I. giving a detail of
the critical situation of affairs in Scotland, and intreat-
, A N D. m
ing him to recal to France the earl of Lenox, who was Scotland,
now interested to oppose the influence and operations of ■—v——'
the queen-dowager. But the indignation with which
the treachery of the cardinal had inflamed the earl of ^
Lenox, precipitated him into immediate action, and Hostilities
defeated the intention of this artifice. In the hostile commitied
situation of his mind towards Scotland, an opportunitytliC lat"
of commencing hostilities had presented itself. Five '
ships had arrived in the Clyde from France, loaded
with warlike stores, and having on board the patriarch
of Venice, Peter Contaren* legate from Paul III, with
La Brosse, and James Mesnaige, ambassadors from
France ; and 30,000 crowns, which were to be employ¬
ed in strengthening the French faction, and to be dis¬
tributed by the queen-dowager and the cardinal. Pre¬
vailing with the commanders of these vessels, who con¬
ceived him to be the firm friend of their monarch, he
secured this money for his own use, and deposited the
military stores in his castle of Dumbarton, under the
care of George Stirling the deputy-governor, who at
that time was entirely in his interests.
By the successful application of this wealth, the earl
of Lenox called forth the full exertion of his party in
levying a formidable army, with which he threatened
the destruction of the regent and the cardinal, offering
them battle in the fields between Leith and Edinburgh. 5,7
The regent, not being in a condition to accept the Lennox
challenge of his rival, had recourse to negociation. Car- suffers
dinal Beaton and the earl of Huntly proposed terms of^™^^
amity, and exerted themselves with so much address, ‘jlis
that the earl of Lenox, losing the opportunity of chas-enemies,
tising his enemies, consented to an accommodation, and
again indulged the hope of obtaining the queen-dowager
in marriage. His army was dismissed, and he threw
himself at the feet of his mistress, by whom he was, in
appearance, favourably received: but many ot his friends
were seduced from him under different pretences ; and
at last, apprehending his total ruin from some secret
enterprise, he fled to Glasgow, and fortified himselt in 5]g
that city. The regent, collecting an army, marched and is
against him ; and having defeated his friend the ear,! of||ullged t0
Glencairn in a bloody encounter, was able to reduce 1
the place of strength in which he confided. In this ebb
of his fortune, the earl of Lenox had no hope but from
England.
The revol ution produced in the political state of Scot¬
land by the arts of Cardinal Beaton, while it defeated
the intrigues of Henry VIII, pointed all its strength
against the progress of the reformation. After abandon¬
ing his old friends, the regent, in connexion with the
cardinal, was ambitious to undo all the services he had -jg
rendered to them. The three estates annulled the trea- Alliance
ties of amity and marriage, and empowered commission-
ers to conclude an alliance with France, ihe regentjotj^
discharged the two preachers Guiilame and Rough, au(i the
whom he had invited to impugn the doctrines ot the Protestants
church. He drove back into England many pious per- persecuted,
sons, whose zeal had brought them to Scotland, to explain
and advance the new opinions. He caressed with parti¬
cular respect the legate whom the pope had sent to dis¬
courage the marriage of the young queen with the prince
of Wales, and to promise his assistance against tire en¬
terprises of Henry VIII. He procured an act of parlia¬
ment to be passed for the persecution of heretics; and,
on the foundation of this authority, the most rigorous
F R 2 proceedings
SCOTLAND.
684
Scotland, proceedings were concerted against the reformed; when
1 ' the arms of England, rousing the apprehensions of the
nation, gave the fullest employment to the regent and
520 his counsellors.
Lenox en- In the rage and anguish of disappointed ambition,
fhFpW ear^ kenox made an offer to assist the views of
lish in-°' t^e of England; who, treating him as an ally,
terest. engaged, in the event of success, to give him in mar¬
riage his niece the lady Margaret Douglas, and to in¬
vest him with the regency of Scotland. To establish
the reformation in Scotland, to acquire the superiority
over it to Henry VIII, and to eftectuate the marriage
of the prince of Wales with the queen of Scots, were
521 the great objects of their confederacy.
An Eng- Henry, though engaged in a war with France, which
enters Scot re<lu‘red all his military force, could not resist the ear-
l,ind best opportunity in his power to execute his vengeance
An. 1544. against Scotland. Edward Seymour, earl of Hartford,
was appointed to command 10,000 men ; who were
embarked at Timnouth, on board a fleet of 200 ships,
under the command of Sir John Dudley lord Lisle. This
army was landed without opposition near Leith ; and
the earl of Hartford made it known to Sir Adam Ot-
terburn, the provost of Edinburgh, that his commission
empowered him to lay the country waste and desolate,
unless the regent should deliver up the young queen to
the king of England. It was answered, that every ex¬
tremity of distress would be endured, before the Scot-
522 tish nation would submit to so ignominious a demand.
Who com- Six thousand horse from Berwick, under the lord Evers,
Tvasta^ n0W i°‘ned die eaid °f Hartford. Leith and Edinburgh,
tiom^and a^ter a fcehle resistance, yielded to the English corn-
then sud- mander; who abandoned them to pillage, and then set
denly re- them on fire. A cruel devastation ensued in the sur-
tne. rounding villages and country, and an immense booty
was conveyed on board the English fleet. But, while
an extreme terror was everywhere excited, the earl of
Hartford reimbarked a part of his troops, and ordered
the remainder to march with expedition to the frontiers
of England.
The regent, assisted by Cardinal Beaton and the earls
of Huntly, Argyle, Bothwell, and Murray, was active,
in the mean time, to collect an army, and to provide
for the security of the kingdom. He felt, therefore,
the greatest surprise on being relieved so unexpectedly
from the most imminent danger; and an expedition,
conducted with so little discernment, did not advance
the measures of Henry VIII. To accomplish the
marriage of the young queen with the prince of Wales,
to possess himself of her person, or to achieve a con¬
quest over Scotland, were all circumstauces apparently
within the reach of the English commander : and yet,
in the moment of victory, he neglected to prosecute his
advantages ; and having inflamed the animosities of the
Scottish nation, by a display of the passions and cruelty
of his master, left them to recover from their disaster,
and to improve in their resources.
The earl of Lenox, taking the opportunity of the
525 English fleet, went to consult with Henry VIII. on
111 success the desperate state of his affairs. He renewed his en-
Lenox1 Sa«ements with this monarch; and received in mar¬
riage the lady Margaret Douglas, w ith possessions in
England. Soon after, he arrived in the frith of Clyde,
with 18 ships and 600 soldiers, that he might secure
the castle of Dumbarton, and employ himself in plun¬
dering and devastation. But George Stirling, to whom Scotland
the castle wTas intrusted, refused to surrender it; and ' /■—
even obliged him to reimbark his troops. After en¬
gaging in a few petty incursions and skirmishes, he re¬
turned to England. S24
In this year Henry consented to a truce ; and Scot- A truce
land, after having suffered the miseries of war, was sub- concluded
jected to the horrors of persecution. The regent had El,a
procured an act of parliament for the persecution of
the reformed; and the cardinal, to draw to himself an
additional splendour and power, had obtained from the
pope the dignity of legate a latere. A visitation of his
own diocese appeared to him the most proper method
of commencing the proposed extirpation of heresy; and
he carried with him in his train the regent, and many
persons of distinction, to assist in his judicatories, and
to share in his disgrace. 525
In the town of Perth many persons were accused and Manycrue
condemned. The most trifling oftences were regarded executlons|
as atrocious crimes, and made the subjects of prosecu-
tion and punishment. Robert Lamb wras hanged for
affirming that the invocation of saints had no merit to
save. William Anderson, James Reynolds, and James
Finlay son, suffered the same death, for having abused
an image of St Francis, by putting horns upon his head.
James Hunter, having associated with them, was found
equally guilty, and punished in the same manner. He¬
len Stirke, having refused, when in labour, to invoke
the asssistance of the Virgin, was drowned in a pool of
water. Many of the burgesses of Perth being suspect¬
ed of heresy, were sent into banishment; and the lord
Ruthven, the provost, wras upon the same account dis¬
missed from office. 526
The cardinal w7as strenuous in persecuting heresy in ^Georotj
other parts of his diocese. But the discontents and wiahart
clamour attending the executions of men of inferior sta¬
tion were now lost in the fame of the martyrdom of
George Wishart; a person who, while he was respec¬
table by his birth, w^as highly eminent from the opi¬
nion entertained of his capacity and endowments. The
historians of the Protestant persuasion have spoken of
this reformer in terms of the highest admiration. They
extol his learning as extensive, insist on the extreme
candour of his disposition, and ascribe to him the utmost
purity of morals. But while the strain of their pane¬
gyric is exposed to suspicion from its excess, they have
ventured to impute to him the spirit of prophecy; so
that we must necessarily receive their eulogiums vdth
some abatement. It may be sufficient to affirm, that
Mr Wishart was the most eminent preacher who had
hitherto appeared in Scotland. His mind was certainly
cultivated by reflection and study, and he was amply
possessed of those abilities and qualifications which
awaken and agitate the passions of the people. His
ministry had been attended with the most flattering suc¬
cess; and his courage in encountering danger grew with
his reputation. The day before he was apprehended,
he said to John Knox, who attended him, “ I am
weary of the world, since I perceive that men are weary
of God. ” He had already reconciled himself to that
terrible death which awaited him. He was found in.
the house of Cockburn of Ormiston, in East Lothian ;
wrho refusing to deliver him to the servants of the re¬
gent, the earl of Bothwell, the sheriff of the county,
required that he should be intrusted to his care, and
promised
ft
SCOTLAND.
Ijtland. promised that no injury should be done to him. But
t -y  the authority of tlie regent and his counsellors obliged
the earl to surrender his charge. He was conveyed to
the cardinal’s castle at St Andrew’s, and his trial was
conducted with precipitation. The cardinal and the
clergy proceeding in it without the concurrence of the
secular power, adjudged him to be burnt alive. In the
circumstances of his execution thereappears a deliberate
and most barbarous cruelty. When led out to the
stake, he was met by priests, who, mocking his condi¬
tion, called upon him to pray to the Virgin, that she
might intercede with her Son for mercy to him. “ For¬
bear to tempt me, my brethren, ” was his mild reply.
A black coat of linen was put upon him by one execu¬
tioner, and bags of gun-powder were fastened to his
body by another. Some pieces of ordnance were point¬
ed to the place of execution. He spoke to the specta¬
tors, intreating them to remember that he was to die for
the true gospel of Christ. Fire was communicated to
the faggots. From a balcony in a tower of his castle,
which was hung with tapestry, the cardinal and the pre¬
lates, reclining upon rich cushions, beheld the inhuman
scene. This insolent triumph, more than all his afflic¬
tions, affected the magnanimity of the sufferer. He ex¬
claimed, that the enemy, who so proudly solaced him¬
self, would perish in a few days, and be exposed igno-
miniously in the place which he now occupied.
Cardinal Beaton took a pleasure in receiving the
congratulations of the clergy upon a deed, which, it
was thought, would fill the enemies of the church with
terror. But the indignation of the people was more
excited than their fears. All ranks of men were dis-
;07 gusted at an exercise of power which despised every
( linal boundary of moderation and justice. The prediction
1 on as- of Mr Wishart, suggested by the general odium which
si nated. attended the cardinal, was considered by the disciples
• 1546. jjjjg martyr as the effusion of a prophet; and per¬
haps gave occasion to the assassination that followed.
Their complaints were attended to by Norman Lesly,
the eldest son of the earl of Rothes, whom the cardinal
had treated with indignity, though he had profited by
his services. He consented to be their leader. The
cardinal was in the castle of St Andrew’s, which he was
fortifying after the strongest fashion of that age. The
conspirators, at different times, early in the morning,
entered it. The gates were secured; and appointing a
guard, that no intimation of their proceedings might be
carried to the cardinal, they dismissed from the castle all
his workmen separately, to the number of 100, and all
his domestics, who amounted to not few'er than 50
ersons. The eldest son of the earl of Arran, whom
e kept as an hostage for his father’s behaviour, was
alone detained by them. The prelate, alarmed with
their noise, looked from his window, and was informed
that his castle was taken by Norman Lesly. It was in
vain that he endeavoured to secure the door of his
chamber by bolts and chests. The conspirators brought
fire, and were ready to apply it, when, admitting them
into his presence, he implored their mercy. Two of
them struck him hastily with their swords. But James
Melvil, rebuking their passion, told them, that this work
and judgment of God, though secret, ought to be done
with gravity. He reminded the cardinal, in general
terms, of the enormity of his sins, and reproached him
in a more particular manner with the death of.Mr
685
Wishart. He swore, that he was actuated by no hopes Scotland.
of his riches, no dread of his power, and no hatred to r—*
his person, but that he was moved to accomplish his
destruction, by the obstinacy and zeal manifested by
him against Christ Jesus and his holy gospel. Wait¬
ing for no answer to his harangue, he thrust the car¬
dinal three times through the body with his dagger,
on the 29th of May 1546.
The rumour that the castle was taken giving an alarm
to the inhabitants of St Andrew’s, they came in crowds
to gratify their curiosity, and to offer their assistance,
according to the sentiments they entertained. The
adherents and dependants of the cardinal were clamor¬
ous to see him ; and the conspirators, carrying his dead
body to the very place from which he had beheld the
sufferings of Mr Wishart, exposed it to their view. 52S
The truce, in the mean time, which had been con- Treaty of
eluded with England was frequently interrupted; but peace be-
no memorable battles were fought. Mutual depreda- EnS'~
tions kept alive the hostile spirit of the two kingdoms ; France,and ■
and while the regent was making military preparations, Scotland.,
which gave the promise of important events, a treaty of
peace was concluded between England and France, in
which Francis I. took care to comprehend the Scottish
nation. In this treaty it was stipulated by Henry, that
he was not to wage war against Scotland, unless he
should be provoked by new and just causes of hostility.
But the murderers of Cardinal Beaton, apprehensive
of their safety, had despatched messengers into Eng¬
land, with applications to Henry for assistance ; and
being joined by more than 120 of their friends, they
took the resolution of keeping the castle, and of de¬
fending themselves. Henry, notwithstanding his treaty
with France, resolved to embrace this opportunity of
augmenting the disturbances of Scotland. He hasten¬
ed to collect troops ; and the regent and his counsel¬
lors pressed France for supplies in men, money, mi¬
litary stores, and artillery. 529
The high places which the cardinal occupied were Proceed-
filled up immediately upon his death. John Hamilton|"Ss“S!»‘ns4
abbot of Paisley, was elected archbishop of St Andrew’s, cjerers 0f.
and George earl of Huntly was promoted to be chan-the cardie
cellor. By these offleers the regent was urged to pro-nal.
ceed with vigour against the conspirators ; and it was a
matter of the greatest anxiety to him to recover his
eldest son, whom they detained in custody. The clergy
had, in the most solemn manner, pronounced them to
be accursed ; and agreed to furnish, for four months, a.-
monthly subsidy of 3000/. to defray the expense of re¬
ducing them to obedience. The queen-dowager and
the French faction were, at the same time, eager to
concur in avenging the assassination ol a man to whose
counsels and services they were so greatly indebted.—
And that no dangerous use might be made of the
eldest son of the earl of Arran, who, after his father,
was the heir of the monarchy, an act ol parliament
was passed, excluding him from his birthright while
he remained in the possession of the enemies of his
country, and substituting his brothers • in his place,
according' to their seniority. The dark politics of
Henry suggested the necessity of this expedient; and
in its meaning and tendency may be remarked the
spirit and greatness of a free people.
A powerful army laid siege to the castle of St An-Castle of St
drew’s, and continued their operations during four Andrew’s
besieged.
686
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, months ; but no success attended the assailants. The
fortifications were strong ; and a communication with
the besieged was open by sea to the king of England,
who supplied them with arms and provisions. The gar¬
rison received his pay, and the principal conspirators had
pensions from him. In return for his generosity, they
engaged to promote the marriage of his son with the
young queen; to advance the reformation; and to keep
in custody the eldest son of the regent. Negociation
succeeded to hostility; and as the regent expected assist¬
ance from France, and the conspirators had the prospect
of support from an English army, both parties were dis¬
posed to gain time. A treaty was entered into, in
which the regent engaged to procure from Rome an ab¬
solution to the conspirators, and to obtain to them from
the three estates an exemption from prosecutions of every
kind. On the part of the besieged, it was stipulated,
that when these conditions should be fulfilled, the castle
531 should be surrendered, and the regent’s son delivered up
Death of to him. In the mean time Henry VIII. died ; and, a
^nd^FVan1 few weeks after, Francis I. also paid the debt of nature,
"ris i r' n But the former, before his death, had recommended
^ the prosecution of the Scottish war; and Henry II. the
n. io47. succesSor of Francis, was eager to show his attention
to the ancient ally of his nation. When the absolution
arrived from Rome, the conspirators refused to consider
it as valid ; and an expression used by the pope, imply¬
ing an absurdity, furnished an apology for their con¬
duct. They knew that the counsellors of Edward VI.
were making vigorous preparations to invade Scotland ;
•they were confident of their present ability to defend
themselves ; and the advocates for the reformation en¬
couraged them with hopes and with flattery.
■I he favourers of the reformation, in the mean time,
adopting the intolerant maxims of the Roman Catholics,
were highly pleased with the assassination of Beaton ;
and many of them congratulated tire conspirators on
what they called the godly deed and enterprise. John
532 Rough, who had formerly been chaplain to the regent,
John Knox entered the castle and joined them. At this time also
diSuKh John Knox beSan t0 distinguish himself, both by his
himself. success in argument and the unbounded freedom of his
his discourse; while the Roman clergy, everywhere
defeated and ashamed, implored the assistance of the
regent and his council, who assured them that the laws
against heretics should be rigidly put in execution.
In the mean time the castle of St Andrew’s being
invested by a fleet of 16 sail under Admiral Strozzi
from hranee, was obliged to capitulate. Honourable
conditions were granted to the conspirators ; but after
being conveyed to France, they were crueliy used,
from the hatred entertained by the Catholics against
the Protestants. Many were confined in prisons ; and
others, among whom, says Dr Stuart, was John Knox,
were sent to the galleys. The castle itself was nearly
rased to the ground.
Ihe same year (151>7), Scotland was invaded by an
English army under the duke of Somerset, who had
been chosen protector of England during the minority
of Edward VI. The design of this invasion was to
oblige the Scots to comply with the scheme of Henry
VIH. and conclude a marriage between Edward and
the young queen of Scotland. The English army con¬
sisted of 18,000 men ; besides which the protector had
a fleet ol 60 sail, one half of which were ships of war,
533
Castle of
St An¬
drew’s ta-
534
Scotland
invaded
by the
English.
and the others consisted of vessels laden with provisions Scotlarj;
and military stores. On the other hand, the regent op- y-
posed him with an army of 40,000 men. Before the
commencement of hostilities, however, the duke of So¬
merset addressed a letter or manifesto to the government,
in which he pressed tile marriage with such powerful ar¬
guments, and so clearly showed the benefits which would
result from it to both nations, that the regent and his
party, who were averse to peace, thought proper to
suppress it, and to circulate a report that the English
had come to force away the queen, and to reduce the
kingdom to a state of dependence on him. All hopes
of an accommodation being thus removed, the English
army advanced to give battle to the Scots. They found
the latter posted in the most advantageous situation,
around the villages of Musselburgh, Inveresk, and
Monckton ; so that he could not force them to an ac¬
tion, at the same time that he found himself in danger
of having his communication with his sh'ps cut off, which
wrould have totally deprived his army of the means of
subsistence. In this dangerous situation he had again
recourse to negociation, and ofl'ered terms still more fa¬
vourable than before. Fie now declared himself ready
to retire into England, and to make ample compensa¬
tion for the injuries committed by his army, if the Scot¬
tish government would promise that the queen should
not be contracted to a foreign prince, but should be kept
at home till she was of age to choose a husband for her¬
self, with the consent of the nobility. These concessions
increased the confidence of the regent so much, that,
without taking advantage of the strength of his situa¬
tion, he resolved to come to a general engagement.—
The protector moved towards Pinkey, a gentleman’s Battle o|
house to the eastward of Musselburgh ; and the regent Pinkey,]
conceiving that he meant to take refuge in his fleet, left SePteiMa
the strong position in which he was encamped. He10t“15j
commanded ins army to pass the river Esk, and to ap¬
proach the English forces, which were posted on the
middle of Faside-hill. The earl of Angus led the van ;
the main body marched under the regent; and the earl
of Huntly commanded in the rear. It was the regent’s
intention to seize the top of the hill. The Lord Gray,
to defeat this purpose, charged the carl of Angus, at
the head of the English cavalry. They were received
on the points of the Scottish spears, which were longer
than the lances of the English horsemen, and put to
flight. The earl of Warwick, more successful with his
body of infantry, advanced to the attack. The ordnance
from the fleet assisted his operations: and a brisk fire
from the English artillery, which was planted on a ris¬
ing ground, contributed still more to intimidate the
Scottish soldiery—The remaining troops under the
protector were moving slowly, and in the best order,
to share in the engagement. The earl of Angus was
not well supported by the regent and the earl of
Huntly. A panic spread through the Scottish army.
It fled in different directions, presenting a scene of
the greatest havock and confusion. Few perished in
the fight; but the pursuit continuing in one direction
to Edinburgh, and in another to Dalkeith, with the
utmost fury, a prodigious slaughter ensued. The loss The Seoji
of the conquerors did not amount to 500 men ; hut defeated!
10,000 soldiers perished on the side of the vanquished.'vlllW]■“
A multitude of prisoners were Taken ; and among these5 ■au°‘1
the eari of Iluntly, the lord high chancellor.
Amidst
SCOTLAND.
68T
s land. Amidst the consternation of this decisive victory, the
   duke of Somerset had a full opportunity of effecting the
marriage and union projected by Henry VIII. and on
the subject of which such anxiety was entertained hy
the English nation. But the cabals of his enemies
threatening his destruction at home, he yielded to the
necessities of his private ambition, and marched back
7 into England. He took precautions, however, to se-
°et cure an entry into Scotland, both by sea and land. A
is to garrison of 200 men was placed in the isle of St Colum-
Ei nd. ba in the Forth, and two ships of war were left as a fur¬
ther guard. A garrison was also stationed in the castle
of Broughty, situated in the mouth of the Tay. When
he passed through the Merse and Teviotdale, the lead¬
ing men of these counties repaired to him ; and taking
an oath of allegiance to King Edward, surrendered
their places of strength. Some of these he demolish¬
ed, and to others he added new fortifications. Hume
castle was garrisoned with 200 men, and intrusted to
Sir Edward Dudley ; and 300 soldiers were posted
with 200 pioneers, in the castle of Roxburgh, under
the command of Sir Ralph Buhner.
The only resource of the regent now was the hope
of assistance from France. The young queen was
lodged in the castle of Dumbarton, under the care of
the lords Erskine and Livingstone ; and ambassadors
l I; were sent to Henry II. of France, acquainting him with
Fa ;r the disaster at Pinkey, and imploring his assistance,
sm ,es q’he regent had sought permission from the protector
[jjn h to treat of peace, and the earl of Warwick was ap-
4 1548. pointed to wait for them at Berwick; but none were
ever sent on the part of Scotland. It was not long,
therefore, before hostilities recommenced by the Eng¬
lish. Lord Gray led an army into Scotland, fortified
the town of Haddington, took the castles of Tester
and Dalkeith, and laid waste the Merse, and the coun¬
ties of East and Mid Lothian. On the other hand, in
June 1548, Monsieur de Desse, a French officer of
great reputation, landed at Leith with 6000 soldiers,
and a formidable train of artillery.
In the mean time, the regent was in disgrace on ac¬
count of the disaster at Pinkey; and the queen-dowager
being disposed to supersede his authority, attempted to
improve this circumstance to her own advantage. As
she perceived that her power and interest could be best
supported by France, she resolved to enter into the
strictest alliance with that kingdom. It had been pro¬
posed that the dauphin of France should marry the
queen of Scotland; and this proposal now met with
many partisans, the hostilities of the English having
lost a great number of friends to the cause of that coun¬
try. It was resolved to send the queen immediately to
France, which would remove the cause of the present
contentions, and her subsequent marriage with the dau¬
phin would in the fullest manner cement the friendship
betwixt the two nations. The French government also
entered deeply into the scheme; and, in order to pro¬
mote it, made presents of great value to many of the
Scottish nobility. The regent himself was gained over
L ' by a pension of 12,000 livres, and the title of duke of
,een Chatelherault. Monsieur de Viilcgagnon, who com-
Era manded four galleys in the harbour of Leith, making a
feint as if he intended to proceed instantly to France,
tacked about to the north, and, sailing round the isles,
received the queen at Dumbarton; whence he convey¬
ed her to France, and delivered her to her uncles the Scotland,
princes of Lorraine, in the month of July 1548. u-—y—
These transactions did not put an end to the military
operations. The siege of Haddington had been un¬
dertaken as soon as the French auxiliaries arrived, and
was now conducted with vigour. To reinforce the gar¬
rison, 1500 horse advanced from Benvick ; but an am¬
buscade being laid for them, they were intercepted, and
almost totally destroyed. Another body of English ^
troops, however, which amounted only to 300 persons, with seve^
was more successful. Eluding the vigilance of the Scots ral checks*
and the French, they were able to enter Haddington,
and to supply the besigged with ammunition and provi¬
sions. The lord Seymour, high-admiral of England,
made a descent upon Fife with 1200 men, and some
pieces of artillery; but was driven back to his ships with
great slaughter by James Stuart, natural brother to
the young queen, who opposed him at the head of the
militia of the county. A second descent was made by
him at Montrose; but being equally unsuccessful there,
he was obliged to leave Scotland without performing
any important or memorable achievement.
Having collected an army of 17,000 men, and add¬
ing to it 3000 German Protestants, the protector put
it under the direction of the earl of Shrewsbury. On
the approach of the English, Desse, though he had been
reinforced with 15,000 Scots, thought it more prudent
to retreat than to hazard a battle. Fie raised the siege ^4r
of Haddington, and marched to Edinburgh. The earl Quarrels
of Shrewsbury did not follow him to force an engage- between
ment: jealousies had arisen between the Scots and thetl^^c®*® ^
French. The insolence and vanity of the latter, en-ai 1 ‘ "
couraged by their superior skill in military affairs, had
offended the quick and impatient spirit of the former.
The fretfulness of the Scots was augmented by the ca¬
lamities inseparable from war ; and after the convey¬
ance of the young queen t o France, the efficacious and
peculiar advantage conferred on that kingdom hy this
transaction was fully understood, and appeared to them
to be highly disgraceful and impolitic. In this state
of their minds, Desse did not find at Edinburgh the
reception which he expected. The quartering of his
soldiers produced disputes, which ended in an insur¬
rection of the inhabitants. The French fired upon the
citizens. Several persons of distinction fell, and among
these were the provost of Edinburgh and his son. I he
national discontents and inquietudes were driven, by
this event, to the most dangerous extremity; and Desse,
who was a man of ability, thought of giving employ¬
ment to his troops, and of flattering the people by the
splendour of some martial exploit. _ 542-
The earl of Shrewsbury, after supplying Fladding- Unsuccess-
ton with troops, provisions, and military stores, retired^'1
with his army into England. Its garrison, in tire en-^jngt0iH
joyment of security, and unsuspicious of danger, might
be surprised and overpowered. Marching in the night,
Desse reached this important post; and destroying a
fort of observation, prepared to storm the main gates of
the city, when the garrison took the alarm. A French
deserter pointing a double cannon against the thickest
ranks of the assailants, the shot was incredibly destruc¬
tive, and threw them into confusion. In tire height of
their consternation, a vigorous sally was made b\ 'he
besieged. Desse renewed the assault in the morn: y
and. was again discomfited. He now turned L
688 SCOTLAND.
Scotland, against Broughty castle; and, though unable to reduce
it, he recovered the neighbouring town of Dundee,
Dese'the wh^c^ ^ad fallen into thepossession of the enemy. Hume
French o-e- cast^e was retaken by stratagem. Desse entered Jed-
vantages.
544
Further
neral gains burgh, and put its garrison to the sword. Encouraged
some ad- by this success, he ravaged the English borders in dif¬
ferent incursions, and obtained several petty victories.
Leith, w’hich from a small village had now grown into
a town, was fortified by him ; and the island of Inch-
keith nearly opposite to that harbour, being occupied
by English troops, he undertook to expel them, and
made them prisoners after a brisk encounter.
His activity and valour could not, however, compose
the discontents of the Scottish nation ; and the queen-
dowager having written to Henry II. to recal him, he
was succeeded in his command by Monsieur de Thermes,
who was accompanied into Scotland by Monluc bishop
cf Valence, a person highly esteemed for his address
and ability. This ecclesiastic was intended to supply
the loss of Cardinal Beaton, and to discharge the office
of lord high chancellor of Scotland. But the jealousies
of the nation increasing, and the queen-dowager herself
suspecting his ambition and turbulence, he did not at¬
tain to this dignitjq and soon returned to his owrn coun-
try.
De Thermes brought with him from France a rein-
successes offorcement of 1000 foot, 2000 horse, and 100 men-at-
the French, arms. He erected a fort at Aberlady, to distress the
garrison cf Haddington, and to intercept its supplies of
provisions. At Coldingham he cut in pieces a troop of
Spaniards in the English pay. Fast-castle was regained
by surprise. Distractions in the English court did not
permit the protector to act vigorously in the war. The
earl of Warwick was diverted from marching an army
into Scotland. An infectious distemper had broken out
in the garrison at Haddington ; and an apprehension
prevailed, that it could not hold out for a considerable
time against the Scots. The earl of Rutland, therefore,
with a body of troops, entered the town ; and after set¬
ting it on fire, conducted the garrison and artillery to
Berwick. The regent now in possession of Hadding¬
ton, was solicitous to recover the other places which
were yet in the power of the English. De Thermes
laid siege to Broughty castle, and took it. He then be¬
sieged Lawder; and the garrison was about to surren¬
der at discretion, when the news arrived that a peace
w'as concluded between France, England, and Scot¬
land.
By this treaty the king of France obtained the resti¬
tution of Boulogne and its dependencies, which had
been taken from him by the king of England, and for
which he paid 400,000 crowns. No opposition was
to be given to the marriage of the queen of Scotland
with the dauphin: the fortresses of Lawder and Dou¬
glas were to be restored to the Scots, and the English
were to destroy the castles of Roxburgh and Eyemouth.
The queen- After the ratification of these articles,the queen-dowager
goesw* embaiked v\ith Leon Strozzi for France, attended by
France,and many of the nobility. Having arrived there, she com-
schcmes a- mumcated to the king her design of assuming the go-
verment of Scotland, and he promised to assist her to
the utmost of ins power. But the jealousy which pre¬
vailed between the Scots and French rendered the ac-
complishment of this design very difficult. To remove
tiie regent by an act of power might altogether endanger
545
Peace con
eluded.
An. 1550.
546
gainst the
regent.
the scheme; but it might be possible to persuade him Scotlaru
voluntarily to resign his office. For this purpose in-s—"V-*
trigues were immediately commenced; and indeed the
regent himself contributed to promote their schemes by
his violent persecution of the reformed. The peace was
scarcely proclaimed, wdien he provoked the public re- S47
sentment by an act of sanguinary insolence. Adam AdamWj
Wallace, a man of simple manners, but of great zeal lace suffe
for the reformation, was accused of heresy, and broughton ac^°,u
to trial in the church of the Black Friars at Edinburgh.ot rell&10
In the presence of the regent, the earls of Angus, Hunt-
ly, Glencairn, and other persons of rank, he was char¬
ged with preaching without any authority of law, with
baptizing one of his own children, and with denying
the doct rine of purgatory; and it was strenuously objec¬
ted to him, that he accounted prayers to the saints and
the dead an useless superstition, thathehad pronounced
the mass an idolatrous service, and that he had affirmed
that the bread and wine in the sacrament of the altar,
after the words of the consecration, do not change their
nature, but continue to be bread and wine. These of¬
fences wrere esteemed too terrible to admit of any par¬
don.—The earl of Glencairn alone protested against his
punishment. The pious sufferer bore writh resignation
the contumelious insults of the clergy ; and by his cou¬
rage and patience at the stake gave a sanction to the
opinions which he had embraced. 54g ;
Other acts of atrocity and violence stained the admi- Other ml
nistration of the regent. In his own palace, William stances oil
Crichton,a man offamily and reputation, was assassina-llie reoen.
ted by the lord Semple. No attempt was made to
punish the murderer. His daughter was the concubine tice.
of the archbishop of St Andrew’s, and her tears and in¬
treaties wrere more powerful than justice. John Melvil,
a person respectable by his birth and fortune, had writ¬
ten to an English gentleman, recommending to his care
a friend who at that time was a captive in England.
This letter contained no improper information in mat¬
ters of state, and no suspicion of any crime agaisst Mel¬
vil could be inferred from it. Yet the regent brought
him to trial on a charge of high treason ; and, for an
act of humanity and friendship, he was condemned to
lose his head. The forfeited estate of Melvil, was given
to David the youngest son of the regent. -49
Amidst the pleasures and amusements of the French Schemes
court, the queen dowager was not inattentive to thel!ie (lueeD
scheme of ambition which she had projected. The earls
of Huntly and Sutherland, Marischal and Cassilis, with regency.
the lord Maxwell, and other persons of eminence who °
hadaccompanied her to France, were gained over to her
interests. Robert Carnegie ol Kinnaird, David Panter
bishop of Ross, and Gavin Hamilton commendator of
Kilwinning, being also at this time in that kingdom,
and having most weight with the regent, were treated
with a most punctilious respect. Henry declared to
themhis earnest wish that thequeen-dowager might ac¬
quire the government of Scotland. In case the regent
should consent to thismieasure, he expressed a firm in¬
tention that no detriment should happen to his conse¬
quence and affairs ; and he desired them to inform him,
that he had already confirmed his title of du&e ofCha-
telherault, had advanced his son to be captain of the
Scots gendarmes in France, and was ready to bestow
other marks of favour on his family and relations. On
this business, and with this message, Mr Carnegie was
despatched
SCOTLAND.
689
551
opacity
id in-
stice of
Scotland, despatched to Scotland ; and a few days after, he was
 v followed by the bishop of Ross. The bishop, who was
a man of eloquence and authority, obtained, though
with great difficulty, a promise from the regent to re¬
sign his high office; and for this service he received,
550 as a recompense, an abbey in Poitou.
|5he returns The queen-dowager, full of hope, now prepared to
Bind001" returu t0 Scotland, and in her way thither made use of
An. 1551. a safe-conduct obtained from Edward VI. by the king
of France. The English monarch, however, had not
yet forgotten the beautiful queen of Scotland ; and did
not fail to urge his superiority of claim to her over the
dauphin. The queen-dowager did not seriously enter
upon the business; but only in general terms complained
of the hostilities committed by the English; and two
days after this conversation, she proceeded towards
Scotland, and was conducted by the earl of Bothwell,
Lord Hume, and some other noblemen, to Edinburgh,
amidst the acclamations of the people. She had not
long returned to the capital, when the bad conduct of
the regent afforded her an opportunity of exerting her
influence and address to the advantage of her project.
The regent having proposed a judicial circuit through
the kingdom, under pretence of repressing crimes and
disorders, molested the people by plunder and rapine.
Great fines were levied for offences pretended as well
as real; and the Protestants in particular seemed to
e regent, ^e the objects of his displeasure and severity. In his
progress he was accompanied by the queen-dowager;
and as she affected to behave in a manner directly op¬
posite, the most disagreeable comparisons were made
between her and the regent. The bishop of Ross, to
whom he had promised to resign his office, did not fail
to put him in mind of his engagements; but he had
now altered his mind, and wished still to continue in
power. His resolution, however, failed him on the first
552 intimation of a parliamentary inquiry into the errors of
e resigns his administration. An agreement with the queen-
iich i*’ d°wager ^en took place ; and it was stipulated, that
ven to he should succeed to the throne upon the death of the
equeen- queen without issue; that his son should enjoy the
''■ager. command of the gendarmes; that no inquiry should
n. 15d4. jjg fpgje int0 his expenditure of the royal treasures;
that no scrutiny into his government should take place;
and that he should enjoy in the most ample manner
his dutchy and his pension. These articles were ra¬
tified at an assembly of parliament, and the queen-
dowager was formally invested with the regency.
Mary of Lorraine, the new regent, though she had
with great difficulty attained the summit of her wishes,
553 seemed to be much less conversant with the arts of go-
e renders vernment than those of intrigue. She was scarcely settled
rself un- jn her new office when she rendered herself unpopular in
p r‘ two respects; one by her too great attachment to France,
and the other by her persecution of the reformed reli¬
gion. She was entirely guided by the councils of her
brothers the Duke of Guise and the cardinal of Lor¬
raine; and paid by far too much attention to M. d’Oy-
sel the French ambassador, whom they recommended to
her as an able and faithful minister. Several high of-
Vol. XVIIL Part II.
fices were filled with Frenchmen, which excited in the Scotland.
highest degree the resentment of the Scottish nobility; v-—
and the commonalty were instantly prejudiced against
her by the partiality which she showed to the Papists.
At first, however, she enacted many salutary laws ;
and while she made a progress through the southern
provinces of the kingdom to hold justiciary courts, she
endeavoured to introduce order and law into the west¬
ern counties and isles ; first by means of the earl of
Huntly, and afterwards of the earls of Argyle and A-
thole, to whom she granted commissions for this pur- 554
pose with effectual powers. In another improvement, Attempts
which the queen-regent attempted by the advice of her'11 vai.n to
French council, she found herself opposed by her own^^h a
people. It w'as proposed that the possessions of every army.nS
proprietor of land in the kingdom should be valued
and entered in registers ; and that a proportional pay¬
ment should be made by each. The application of this
fund was to maintain a regular and standing body of
troops. This guard or army, it was urged, being at
all times in readiness to march against an enemy, would
protect effectually the frontiers; and there would no
longer be any necessity for the nobles to be continu¬
ally in motion on every rumour of hostility or incur¬
sion from English invaders. No art, however, or ar¬
gument, could recommend these measures. A perpe¬
tual tax and a standing army wrere conceived to be the
genuine characteristics of despotism. All ranks of men
considered themselves insulted and abused; and 300
tenants of the crown assembling at Edinburgh, and
giving way to their indignation, sent their remonstran¬
ces to the queen-regent in such strong and expressive
language, as induced her to abandon the scheme. Yet
still the attempt which she had made left an impres¬
sion in the minds of the people. They suspected her
to be a secret enemy to their government and liberties;
and they were convinced that the king of France was
engaging her in refinements and artifices, that he might
reduce Scotland to a province of France. 555
While an alarm about their civil rights was spread-John Knox
ing itself among the people, the Protestants were rising eilcou,;aSe:i
daily in their spirit and in their hopes. John Knox, (p)^ re‘arai-
whose courage had been confirmed by misfortunes, and
whose talents had improved by exercise, was at this time
making a progress through Scotland. The character¬
istic peculiarities of Popery were the farvourite topics of
his declamation and censure. He treated the mass, in
particular, writh the most sovereign contempt, represent¬
ing it as a remnant of idolatry. Many of the nobility
and gentry afforded him countenance and protection.
They invited him to preach at their houses, and they
partook with him in the ordinances of religion after the
reformed method. Religious societies and assemblies
w'ere publicly held, in defiance of the Papists; and ce¬
lebrated preachers were courted with assiduity and bribes
to reside and officiate in particular districts and towns.
The clergy cited Knox to appear before them at Edin¬
burgh, in the church of the Black-friars. On the ap¬
pointed day he presented himself, with a numerous at¬
tendance of gentlemen, who were determined to exert
f 4 S themselves
(p) When he was sent to France (says Dr Stuart) with the conspirators against Cardinal Beaton, he wa*
confined to the galleys ; but had obtained his liberty in the latter end of the year 1549.
mo
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, themselves in his behalf. The priesthood did not choose
1—-v—to proceed in his prosecution ; and Knox, encourag¬
ed by this symptom of their fear, took the resolution
to explain and inculcate his doctrines repeatedly and
openly in the capital of Scotland. In 1556, the earl
of Glencairn allured the earl Marischal to hear the ex-
Writes an hortations of this celebrated preacher ; and they were
offensive g0 much affected with his reasonings and rhetoric, that
the^ueen- requested him to address the queen-regent upon
regent6011 the subject of the reformation of religion. In compli-
An._ 1556. ance with this request, he wrote a letter in very dis¬
agreeable terms ; and the earl of Glencairn delivered
k with his own hand, in the expectation that some ad¬
vantage might in this manner be obtained for the re¬
formed. But the queen-regent was no less oftended
with the freedom of the nobleman than of the preacher;
and, after perusing the paper, she gave it to James
Beaton archbishop of Glasgow, with an expression of
disdain, “ Here, my lord, is a pasquil. ”
Amidst these occupations, John Knox received an
invitation to take the charge of the English congre¬
gation at Geneva ; which he accepted. The clergy
called on him in his absence, to appear before them,
condemned him to death as a heretic, and ordered
him to be burned in effigy.
557
Goes -to
Geneva,
and is imrnt
in effigy.
558
jnation.
Progress o£ This injurious treatment of John Knox did not in the
the refor- ieast obstruct the progress of the reformation. Deser¬
tions were made from Popery in every town and vil¬
lage ^ and even many members of the church, both se¬
cular and regular, were forward to embrace the new
principles, and to atone for their past mistakes by the
most bitter railleries against the corruptions and the
folly of the Romish faith. The priests w'ere treated in
all places with ridicule and contempt. The images,
crucifixes, and relics, which served to rouse the decay¬
ing fervours of superstition, were taken from the chur¬
ches, and trampled under foot. The bishops implored
the assistance of thequeen-regent. Citationswere given
to the preachers to appear in their defence. They
obeyed; but with such a formidable retinue, that it was
with difficulty she was permitted to apologize for her
conduct. James Chalmers of Gaitgirth, pressing for¬
ward from the crowd, thus addressed her: “ We vow
to God, that the devices of the prelates shall not be car¬
ried into execution. We are oppressed to maintain
them in their idleness. They seek to undo and murder
our preachers and us; and we are determined to submit
no longer to this wickedness. ” The multitude, ap¬
plauding his speech, put their hands to their daggers.
A trusty messenger was despatched to Geneva, in¬
viting John Knox to return to his own country. But
in the infancy of their connexion, the Protestants be¬
ing apprehensive of one another, uncertain in their
councils, or being deserted by persons upon whom
they had relied, it appeared to them that they had
adopted this measure without a due preparation ; and,
by other despatches, Knox was requested to delay his
journey for some time.
To this zealous reformer their unsteadiness was a
matter of serious affliction; and in the answer he trans¬
mitted to their letters, he rebuked them with severity :
but amidst this correction he intreated them not to faint
under their purposes, from apprehensions of danger,
which, he said, was to separate themselves from the fa¬
vour of God, and to provoke his vengeance. To par*
3
ticular persons he wrote other addresses; and to all of Scotland,
them the greatest attention was paid. In 1557, a for-1—*v—J
mal bond of agreement, which obtained the appellation
of theJirst covenant, was entered into, and all the morecovetianti
eminent persons who favoured the reformation were in-An. 1557.
vited to subscribe it. The earls of Argyle, Glencairn,
and Morton, with the lord Lorn, and John Erskine of
Dun, led the way, by giving it the sanction of their
names. All the subscribers to this deed, renouncing
the superstitions and idolatry of the church of Rome,
promised to apply continually their whole power and
wealth, and even to give up their lives, to forward and
establish the word of God. They distinguished the
reformed, by calling them the Congregation of Christ;
and by the opprobrious title of the Congregation of
Satan, they peculiarized the favourers of Popery. 5(;o
After the leaders of the reformation had subscribed John Knox
the first covenant, they addressed letters to John Kuox,“ntl. Calvin
urging in the strongest terms his return to Scotland
and, that their hopes of his assistance might not be dis¬
appointed, they sent an address to John Calvin, the
celebrated reformer, begging him to join his com¬
mands to their intreaties. The archbishop of St An¬
drew’s, who perceived the rising storm, was now in a
difficult situation. A powerful combination threaten¬
ed ruin to the church ; and he had separated himself
from the politics of the queen-regent. The zeal of
the Roman Catholics pointed out strong measures to
him; and his dispositions were pacific. The clergy
were offended with his remissness and neglect of duty.
The reformers detested his looseness of principles,
and were shocked with the dissolute depravity of his
life and conversation. He resolved to try the force
of address, and did not succeed. He then resolved
to be severe, and was still more unsuccessful.
The earl of Argyle was the most powerful of theThearcb-
reformed leaders. To allure him from his party, thebishopof
archbishop of St Andrew’s employed the agency
Sir David Hamilton. But the kindness he affected, in"
and the advices he bestowed, were no compliment tovaintose-
the understanding of this nobleman ; and his threatsduce the
were regarded with contempt. The reformers, in-631!1 of ^
stead of losing their courage, felt a sentiment of exul-sy
tation and triumph; and the earl of Argyle happen¬
ing to die about this time, he not only maintained the
new doctrines in his last moments, but intreated his
son to seek for honour in promoting the public preach¬
ing of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and in the utter ruin
of superstition and idolatry.
It was determined by the archbishop and the prelates,
that this disappointment shouldbesucceededby thefuri-
ous persecution of the reformed. Walter Mill, a priest, Walter
had neglected to officiate at the altar; and having been Mill exe-
long under the suspicion of heresy, was carried to
Andrew’s, committed to prison, and accused before there^ion.
archbishop and his suffragans. He was in extreme old
age j and he had struggled all his life with poverty..
He sunk not, however, under his fate. To the articles
of his accusation he replied With signal recollection and
fortitude. The firmness of his mind, in the emaciated
state of his body, excited admiration. The insults of
his enemies, and their contempt, served to discover his
superiority over them. When the clergy declared him
a heretic, no temporal j udge could be found to condemn
him to the fire. He was respited to another day ; and
so.
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, so great sympathy prevailed for his misfortunes, that
•'’"V^-’it was necessary to allure one of the archbishop’s do¬
mestics to supply the place of the civil power, and to
pronounce the sentence of condemnation. When
brought to the stake, the resolution of this sufferer did
not forsake him. He praised God, that he had been
called to seal the truth with his life; and he conjured
the people, as they would escape eternal death, not
to be overcome by the errors and the artifices of monks
563 and priests, abbots and bishops.
ie Pro- The barbarity of this execution alfected the reform-
; itants re- ers with inexpressible horror. Measures for mutual de-
't^their5" fence were taken. The leaders of the reformation, dis-
hts. persing their emissaries to every quarter, encouraged
the vehemence of the multitude. The covenant to
establish a new form of religion extended far and wide.
The point of the sword, not the calm exertions of in¬
quiry, was to decide the disputes of theology.
When the leaders of the reformation were apprised
iof the ardent zeal of the people, and considered the
great number of subscriptions which had been collected
564 in the different counties of the kingdom, they assembled
tition to deliberate concerning the steps to be pursued. It
queen- was resolved, accordingly, that a public and common
*ent supplication of the whole body of the Protestants should
be presented to the queen-regent; which, after com¬
plaining of the injuries they had suffered, should require
her to bestow upon them her support and assistance, and
urge her to proceed in the work of a reformation. To
explain their full meaning, a schedule, containing parti¬
cular demands, was at the same time to be presented
to her scrutiny. To Sir James Sandilands of Calder
they committed the important charge of their manifesto
and articles of reformation; and in appointing him to
this commission, they consulted the respect which was
due both to the government and to themselves. His
character was in the highest estimation. His services
to his country were numerous; his integrity and ho¬
nour were above all suspicion ; and his age and experi¬
ence gave him authority and reverence.
The petition or supplication of the Protestants was
expressed in strong but respectful terms. They told
the queen-regent, that though they had been provoked
by great injuries, they had yet, during a long period,
abstained from assembling themselves, and from making
known to her their complaints. Banishment, confisca¬
tion of goods, and death in its most cruel shape, were
evils with which the reformed had been afflicted; and
they were still exposed to these dreadful calamities.
Compelled by their sufferings, they presumed to ask a
remedy against the tyranny of the prelates and the estate
ecclesiastical. They had usurped an unlimited domina¬
tion over the minds of men. Whatever they command¬
ed, though without any sanction from the w ord of God,
must be obeyed. Whatever they prohibited, though
from their own authority only, it was necessary to avoid.
All arguments and remonstrances were equally fruitless
and vain. The fire, the faggot, and the sword, were
the weapons with which the church enforced and vindi¬
cated her mandates. By these, of late years, many of
their brethren had fallen; and upon this account they
were troubled and wounded in their consciences. For
conceiving themselves to be a part of that power which
God had established in this kingdom, it was their duty
to have defended them, or to have concurred with them
69 i
in an open avowal of their common religion. They Scotland,
now take the opportunity to make this avowal. They-v—^
break a silence which may be misinterpreted into a jus¬
tification of the cruelties of their enemies. And dis¬
daining all farther dissimulation in matters wfflich con¬
cern the glory of God, their present happiness, and
their future salvation, they demand, that the original
purity of the Christian religion shall be restored, and
that the government shall be so improved, as to afford
to them a security in their persons, their opinions, and
their property.
WTith this petition or supplication of the Protestants,
Sir James Sandilands presented their schedule of de¬
mands, or the preliminary articles of the reformation.
They were in the spirit of their supplication, and of
the following tenor. 5r;.
I. It shall be lawful to the reformed to peruse the Articles of
Scriptures in the vulgar tongue; and to employ also the refor-
their native language in prayer publicly and in private, mation•
II. It shall be permitted to any person qualified by
knowledge, to interpret and explain the difficult pas¬
sages in the Scriptures.
III. The election of ministers shall take place ac*
cording to the rules of the primitive church; and those
who elect shall enquire diligently into the lives and
doctrines of the persons whom they admit to the cle¬
rical office.
IV. The holy sacrament of baptism shall be cele¬
brated in the vulgar tongue, that its institution and
nature may be the more generally understood.
V. The holy sacrament of the Lord’s supper shall
likewise be administered in the vulgar tongue; and in
this communion, as well as in the ceremonial of bap¬
tism, a becoming respect shall be paid to the plain in¬
stitution of Christ Jesus.
1. The wicked and licentious lives of the bishops
and estate ecclesiastical shall be reformed; and if they
discharge not the duties of true and faithful pastors,
they shall be compelled to desist from their ministry
and functions. see
The queen-regent now found it necessary to flatter TheProtesJ
the Protestants. She assured them by Sir James San- ^at_
dilands, their orator or commissioner, that every thing
they could legally desire should be granted to them ; regent,
and that, in the mean time, they might, without mo¬
lestation, employ the vulgar tongue in their prayers and
religious exercises. But, upon the pretence that no
encouragement might be given to tumults and riot, she
requested that they would hold no public assemblies in
Edinburgh or Leith. The Congregation, for this name
was now assumed by the Protestants, were transported
with these tender proofs of her regard; and while they
sought to advance still higher in her esteem by the in¬
offensive quietness of their carriage, they were encou¬
raged in the undertaking they had begun, and anxi¬
ous to accomplish the work of the reformation.
Nor to the clergy, who at this time were holding a
provincial council at Edinburgh, did the Congregation
scruple to communicate the articles of the intended re¬
formation. The clergy received their demands with a
storm of rage, which died away in an innocent debility. 561
Upon recovering from their passions, they offered to Th.e7 o!^r
submit the controversy between them and the reformed
to a public disputation. The Congregation did not Reformed
refuse this mode of trial; and desired, as their only con-clergy.
4 S 2 ditions,
692
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, ditions, that the Scriptures might be considered as the
t——v standard of orthodoxy and truth, and that those of
their brethren who were in exile and under persecution
mit;bt be permitted to assist them. These requests,
though highly reasonable, were not complied with;
and the church would allow of no rule of right but
the canon law and its own councils. Terms of recon¬
ciliation were then offered on the part of the estate ec¬
clesiastical. It held out to the Protestants the liberty
of praying and administering the sacraments in the vul¬
gar tongue, if they would pay reverence to the mass,
acknowledge purgatory, invoke the saints, and admit
of petitions for the dead. To conditions so ineffectual
and absurd the Congregation did not deign to return
any answer.
The meeting of parliament approached. The parties
in contention were aghated with anxieties, apprehen¬
sions, and hopes. An expectation of a firm and open
assistance from the queen-regent gave courage to the
reformed; and, from the parliamentary influence of
their friends in the greater and the lesser baronage,
they expected the most important services. They drew
568 UP w*th eagerness the articles which they wished to be
Present passed into a law; and as the spirit and sense of their
their arti- transactions are to be gathered in the completest man¬
tles to the ner from the papers which were framed by themselves,
queen-n-- ^ pr0per to attend to them with exactness. Their
petitions were few and explicit.
I. They could not, in consequence of principles
which they had embraced from a conviction of their
truth, participate in the Romish religion. It was there¬
fore their desire, that all the acts of parliament, giv¬
ing authority to the church to proceed against them as
heretics, should be abrogated ; or, at least, that their
power should be suspended till the disputes which had
arisen were brought to a conclusion.
II. They did not mean that all men should be at li-
bert to profess what religion they pleased, without the
controul of authority. They consented that all trans¬
gressors in matters of faith should be carried before
the temporal judge. But it was their wish that the
clergy should have the power of accusing ; and they
thought it conformable to justice, that a copy of the
criminal charge should be lodged with the party upon
trial, and that a competent time should be allowed him
to defend himself.
III. They insisted, that every defence consistent
with law should be permitted to the party accused;
and that objections to witnesses, founded in truth and
reason, should operate in his favour.
IV. They desired that the party accused should have
permission to interpret and explain his own opinions;
and that his declaration should carry a greater evi¬
dence than the deposition of any witness; as no per¬
son ought to be punished for religion, who is not ob¬
stinate in a wicked or damnable tenet.
V. In fine, they urged, that no Protestant should
be condemned for heresy, without being convicted by
the word of God, of the want of that faith which is
necessary to salvation.
The Congregation presented these articles to the
queen-regent, expecting that she would not only pro¬
pose them to the three estates assembled in parliament,
but employ all her influence to recommend them.
But finding themselves disappointed, they began to
doubt her sincerity; and they were sensible that their Scotland-
petitions, though they should be carried in parliament, 
could not pass into a law without her consent. They
therefore abstained from presenting them ; but as their
complaints and desires were fully known in parliament,
they ordered a solemn declaration to be read there in
their behalf, and demanded that it should be inserted in 569
the records of the nation. In this declaration, after Pro,est a-
expressing their regret at having been disappointed in
their scheme of reformation, they protested, that no fugs,
blame should be imputed to them for continuing in their
religion, which they believed to be founded in the word
of God; that no danger of life, and no political pains
should be incurred by them, for disregarding statutes
which support idolatry, and for violating rites which
are of human invention ; and that, if insurrections and
tumults should disturb the realm, from the diversity of
religious opinions, and if abuses should be corrected
by violence, all the guilt, disorder, and inconvenience
thence arising, instead of being applied to them, should
be ascribed to those solely who had refused a timely re¬
dress of wrongs, and who had despised petitions pre¬
sented with the humility of faithful subjects, and for
the purposes of establishing the commandments of God,
and a most just and salutary reformation.
The three estates received this formidable protest
with attention and respect; but the intention of in¬
serting it in the national records was abandoned by the
Congregation, upon a formal promise from the queen-
regent, that all the matters in controversy should
speedily be brought by her to a fortunate issue.
While the Protestants were thus making the most vi¬
gorous exertions in behalf of their spiritual liberties, the
queen-regent, in order to establish herself the more ef¬
fectually, used every effort to promote the marriage of
her daughter with the dauphin of France. In 1557,
commissioners were appointed to negociate this marri¬
age ; but while these negociations were going on, the
court of France acted in the most perfidious manner. 570
At the age of 15, after solemnly ratifying the indepen- Perfidious
dence of Scotland, and the succession of the crown in
the house of Hamilton, Queen Mary was influenced by p^°ce<
the king and her uncles the princes of Lorraine to sign
privately three extraordinary deeds or instruments. By
the first she conveyed the kingdom of Scotland to the
king of France and his heirs, in default of children of
her own body. By the second she assigned him, if she
should die without children, the possession of Scotland,
till he should receive a million of pieces of gold, or
be amply recompensed for the sums expended by him
in the education of the queen of Scotland in France.
By the third she confirmed both these grants in an ex¬
press declaration, that they contained the pure and ge¬
nuine sentiments of her mind; and that any papers
which might be obtained, either before or after her
marriage, by means of the Scottish parliament, should 571
be invalid, and of no force or efficacy. On the 24rth
of April, the nuptials were celebrated; and the dau- ,ueen0f
phin, Francis, was allowed to assume the title of king scots with
of Scotland. The French court demanded for him the the dau-
of
crown and other ensigns of royalty belonging to Scot-
land ; but the commissioners had no power to comply
with this demand. It was then desired, that when
they returned home, they should use all their influence
to procure the crown matrimonial of Scotland for the
dauphin.
■otland.
157a
obtains
! crown
. Scot-
' d, but
ler cer-
1 restric¬
ts.
573
!e queen
Scots
ms the
sen of
gland,
574
ch lays
founda-
iji of a
1 rrel
h Eli-
eth.
.575
leme to
troy all
leaders
die Pro¬
ant par-
11 Scot-
d.
576
eacber-
h beha-
ur of
1 queen-
' ;ent.
SCOT
dauphin. This also was refused : the court of France
was disgusted ; and four of the commissioners died, it
was supposed of poison, given them by the princes of
Lorraine. This subject, however, was pressed on the
return of the surviving commissioners, by the king of
France himself, the queen of Scotland, and the queen-
regent. Ihe Protestants also joined their interest, hop-
ing by that means to gain over the queen and queen-
regent to their party ; so that an act of parliament was
at length passed, by which the crown matrimonial was
given to the dauphin during the time of his marriage
with Queen Mary ; but without any prejudice to the
liberties of the kingdom, to the heirs of her body, or
to the order of succession. With so many restraints,
it is difficult to see the advantages which could accrue
from this gift so earnestly sought after ; and it is very
probable, that the usurpations of France in consequence
of it, would have been productive of many disturb¬
ances ; but these were prevented by the death of
Francis in December 1560.
Before this event took place, however, Scotland was,
by the intrigues of France, involved in confusion on
another account. After the death of Mary queen of
England, and daughter to Henry VIII, the princes of
Guise insisted on the claim of Mary queen of Scots to
the crown of England, in preference to that of Eliza¬
beth, whom they looked on as illegitimate. This
claim was supported by the king of France, who pre¬
vailed with the queen of Scots to assume the title
of queen of England, and to stamp money under that
character. The arms of England were quartered
with those of France and Scotland ; and employed
as ornaments for the plate and furniture of Mary
and the dauphin. Thus was laid the foundation of
an irreconcileable quarrel between Elizabeth and Ma¬
ry ; and to this, in some measure, is to be ascribed
the inveteracy with which the former persecuted the
unhappy queen of Scotland, whenever she had it in
her powrer.
But while they imprudently excited a quarrel with
England, they still more imprudently quarrelled with
the majority of the people of Scotland. As Eliza¬
beth professed the Protestant religion, it was easily
foreseen, that the Congregation, or body of the reform¬
ed in Scotland, would never consent to act against her
in favour of a popish power ; and as they could not
be gained, it was resolved to destroy them at once,
by putting to death all their leaders. The queen-re¬
gent gave intimation of her design to re-establish Pop¬
ery, by proclaiming a solemn observance of Easter, re¬
ceiving the sacrament according to the Romish commu¬
nion, herself, and commanding all her household to re¬
ceive it in the same manner. She next expressed her¬
self in a contemptuous manner against the reformed, af¬
firmed that they had insulted the royal dignity, and de¬
clared her intention of restoring it to its ancient lustre.
The preachers of the Congregation were next cited to
appear at Stirling, to answer the charges which might
be brought against them. Alexander earl of Glen-
cairn, and Sir Hugh Campbell of Loudon, were deput¬
ed to admonish her not to persecute the preachers, un¬
less they had been obnoxious by circulating erroneous
doctrines, or disturbing the peace of government. The
queen-regent in a passion told them, that the preachers
should all be banished from Scotland, though their doc-
LAND. 693
trines might be as sound as those of St Paul. The dj- Scotland,
puties urged her former kind behaviour and promises ; ——1 *
but the queen-regent answered, that “ the promises of
princes ought not to be exacted with rigour, and that
they were only binding when subservient to their con-
veniency and pleasure. ” To this they replied, that in
such a case they could not look on her as their sove¬
reign, and must renounce their allegiance as subjects. 577
Soon after this transaction, the queen-regent receiv- Proceed¬
ed the news that the reformation was established ininSsaSainst
Perth. Lord Ruthven the provost of the city was tiie^rotest"
summoned to answer for this innovation ; but his reply311
was, that he had no dominion over the minds and con¬
sciences of men. The provost of Dundee, being or¬
dered to apprehend an eminent preacher, named Paul
Methven, sent him intelligence of the order, that he
might provide for his safety. The proclamation for
observing Easter was everywhere despised and neglect¬
ed, and people exclaimed against the mass as an idol.
New citations, in the mean time, had been given to 570
the preachers to appear at Stirling. They obeyed the They be-
summons ; but attended by such multitudes, that theco.mefor"
queen-regent, dreading their power, though they wereby
without arms, mtreated Mr Erskine of Dun, whombers,
they had sent before as a deputy, to stop their march ;
assuring him that all proceedings against the preachers
should be stopped. In consequence of this, the mul¬
titude dispersed ; yet, w hen the day came on which
the preachers should have appeared, the queen-regent,
with unparalleled folly and treachery, caused them to
be declared traitors, and proclaimed it criminal to
afford them any subsistence.
Mr Erskine, exasperated by this shameful conduct,
hastened to the Congregation; apologized for his con¬
duct, and urged them to proceed to the last extremi- 57-,
ties. At this critical period John Knox returned from John Knox
Geneva, and joined the Congregation at Perth. Thereturns to
great provocations which the Protestants had alreadyScot!aa<i'
received, joined to the impetuous passions of the mul¬
titude, wrere now productive of the greatest disorders.
Images were destroyed, monasteries pulled down, and
their wealth either seized by the mob or given to the
poor. The example of Perth was followed by Cupar
in Fife: and similar insurrections being apprehended
in other places, the queen-regent determined to punish
the inhabitants of Perth in the most exemplary manner.
With this view she collected an army : but being op¬
posed with a formidable pow er by the Protestants, she 550
thought proper to conclude an agreement. The Pro- Second co-
testants, however, dreaded her insincerity ; and there-X^nant*
fore entered into a new’ covenant to stand by and defend *fr<^ ery
each other. Their fears were not groundless. Thequeen.re.
queen-regentviolated the treaty almost as soon as it was gent,
made, and began to treat the Protestants w ith severity.
The earl of Argyle, and the prior of St Andrew’s, who
about this time began to take the title of Lord James
Stuart, now openl/headed the Protestant party, and
prepared to collect their whole strength. The queen-
regent opposed them with what forces she had, and
which indeed ehieflv consisted of her French auxiliaries;
but, being again afraid of coming to an engagement,
she consented to a truce until commissioners should be
sent to treat with the lords for an effectual peace. No
commissioners, however, were sent on her part; and the
nobles, provoked at such complicated and unceasing
treachery,,
582
694 SCOT
Scotland, treachery, resolved to push matters to the utmost extre¬
mity. The first exploit of the reformed was the taking
of the town of Perth, where the queen-regent had placed
a French garrison. The multitude, elated with this
achievement, destroyed the palace and abbey of Scone,
in spite of all the endeavours of their leaders, even of
John Knox himself, to save them. The queen-regent,
apprehensive that the Congregation would commit far¬
ther ravages to the southward, resolved to throw a gar¬
rison into Stirling; but the earl of Argyle and Lord
James Stuart were too quick for her, and arrived there
the very day after the demolition of the abbey and
palace of Scone. The people, incapable of restraint,
and provoked beyond measure by the perfidious be¬
haviour of the Catholic party, demolished all the mo¬
nasteries in the neighbourhood, together with the fine
abbey of Cambuskenneth, situated on the north bank
The queen-of the Forth. From Stirling they went to Linlithgow,
regent flies where they committed their usual ravages; after which,
they advanced to Edinburgh. The queen-regent, a-
Protsstants larmed at their approach, fled to Dunbar ; and the
become Protestants took up their residence in Edinburgh,
masters of Having thus got possession of the capital, the Con-
' ' ln;!U1S -gregation assumed to themselves the ruling power of
the kingdom, appointed preachers in all the churches,
and seized the mint, with all the instruments of coin¬
ing. The queen-regent, unable to dispute the matter
in the field, published a manifesto, in which she set
forth their seditious behaviour, commanding them to
leave Edinburgh within six hours, and enjoining her
583 subjects to avoid their society under the penalties of
They lose treason. The Congregation having already lost some-
ladtv^and" W^lat t^e*r P°Pular^y by their violent proceedings,
fall into were now incapable of contending with government.
As they had not established themselves in any regular
body, or provided a fund for their support, they felt
their strength decay, and multitudes of them returned
to their habitations. Those who remained found them¬
selves obliged to vindicate their conduct; and, in an
address to the regent, to disclaim all treasonable inten¬
tions. Negociations again took place, udiich ended as
usual; the queen-regent, who had taken this opportu¬
nity of collecting her forces, marched against the Con-
concluded. gregation on the 23d of July 1559. The Protestants
An. 1559. now found themselves incapable of making head against
their enemies ; and therefore entered into a negocia-
tion, by which all differences were for the present ac¬
commodated. The terms of this treaty were, that the
town of Edinburgh should be open to the queen-dow¬
ager and her attendants ; that the palace of Holyrood-
house and the mint should be delivered up to her;
that the Protestants should be subject to the laws,
and abstain from molesting the Catholics in the exer¬
cise of their religion. On the queen’s part, it was
agreed, that the Protestants should have the free ex¬
ercise of their religion, and that no foreign troops
should enter the city of Edinburgh.
Notwithstanding this treaty, however, the reformed
had no confidence in the queen’s sincerity. Having
heard of the death of Henry II. of France, which
took place on the 8th of March 1559, and the acces¬
sion of Francis II. and Mary to the throne of that
Jdngdom, they seem to have apprehended more danger
.than ever. They now entered into a third covenant;
in which they engaged to refuse attendance to the
distress.
584
-A treaty
385
Third co¬
venant.
LAND.
queen-dowager, in case of any message or letter; and Scotland,
that immediately on the receipt of any notice from her ' —* —*
to any of their number, it should be communicated
without reserve, and be made a common subject of
scrutiny and deliberation. It was not long before they
had occasion for all their constancy and strength. 5g6
The queen-regent repented of the favourable terms The treatr
she had granted the reformed ; and being denied the broken bv
favour which she requested of saying mass in thetV‘e (i^eeE'
high-church of Edinburgh, she ordered them to bere?eQ‘’
everywhere disturbed in the exercise of their religion.
In this imprudent measure the queen-regent was con- France
firmed by letters which now came from Francis and supports
Mary, promising a powerful army to support her inte-j^f
rests. The envoy who brought these despatches also1 L partJ'
carried letters to the lord James Stuart, now the prin¬
cipal leader of the Protestants, and natural brother to
the queen. The letters were filled with reproaches and
menaces, mixed with entreaties; and, along with them,
the envoy delivered a verbal message, that the king
his master was resolved rather to expend all the trea¬
sures of France than not to be revenged on the rebel¬
lious nobles who had disturbed the peace of Scotland.
The lord James Stuart was not to be frightened by
these menaces. He returned a cool and deliberate
answer, apologizing for the Protestants, and vindi¬
cating them from the charge of rebellion; but at the
same time intimating his full resolution of continuing
to head the reformed as he had already done. sss
The letters of Francis and Mary were soon followed Dench au
by 1000 French soldiers, with money and military
stores; and the commander was immediately despatched alarms the
again to France, to solicit the assistance of as many nation,
more soldiers, with four ships of war, and 100 men-at-
arms. But before he could set out, La Brosse, ano¬
ther French commander, arrived with 2000 infantry ;
and, that the Congregation might be defeated not only
by arms but in disputation, the same ship brought three
doctors of the Sorbonne, to show the pernicious tend¬
ency of the new doctrines. Thus matters were push¬
ed on beyond all hopes of reconciliation. The nation
was universally alarmed on account of the introduc¬
tion of French troops, to which they saw no end. The
queen-regent attempted to quiet the minds of the pub¬
lic by a proclamation: but their fears increased the
more. The Congregation assembled at Stirling,where
they were joined by the earl of Arran, and soon after
by his father the duke of Chatelherault. They next
deliberated on the measures to be followed with the
queen-regent; and the result of their consultations was,
that an expostulatory letter should be addressed to her.
This was accordingly done ; but as the queen behaved
with her usual duplicity, the nobles called the people
to arras. Mutual manifestoes were now published; and
both parties prepared to decide the contest by the
sword. The Congregation having seized Broughty SS9
castle, marched thence to Edinburgh. The queen- The noD"
regent retired to Leith, which she had fortified andj*11^1^
filled with French troops. Thither the nobles sent^/^he
their last message to her, charging her with a design to queen-re-
overthrow the civil liberties of the kingdom. They re- gent,
quested her to command her Frenchmen and mercena¬
ries to depart from Leith, and to make that place open,
not only to the inhabitants who had been dispossessed
of their houses, but to all the inhabitants of Scotland.
The
fis' 3. S s- rd
91
T h de-
g1!5 her
JV lier
ofh and
SCOT
)tlanci. They declared, that her denial of this request should be
i -v—**'' considered by them as a proof of her intention to re¬
duce the kingdom to slavery ; in which case, they were
;90 determined to employ their utmost power to preserve its
ijeive an independence. Two days after this message, the queen-
n| vour- regent sent to them the lord Lyon, whom she enjoined
8 an' to tell them, that she considered their demand not only
as presumptuous, but as an encroachment on the royal
authority; that it was an indignity to her to be dicta¬
ted to by subjects ; that Frenchmen were not to be
treated as foreigners, being entitled to the same privi¬
leges with Scotsmen; and that she would neither dis¬
band her troops, nor command the town of Leith to
be made open. The lord Lyon then, in the name of
the queen-regent, commanded the lords of the Congre¬
gation to depart from Edinburgh, and disperse, under
the pain of high treason. TheTrotestants, irritated by
this answer, after some deliberation degraded the queen-
regent ; and for this purpose the nobility, barons, and
k|iege'to burgesses, all agreed in subscribing an edict, which was
Liu sent to the principal cities in Scotland, and published
in them.
The next step taken by the Congregation was to
summon Leith to surrender; but meeting with defiance
instead of submission, it was resolved to take the town
by scalade. For this service ladders were made in the
church of St Giles ; a business which, interrupting the
preachers in the exercise of public worship, made them
prognosticate misfortune and miscarriage to the Con¬
gregation. In the displeasure of the preachers, the
common people found a source of complaint; and the
emissaries of the queen-dowager acting with indefatiga¬
ble industry to divide her adversaries, and to spread
n > place chagrin and dissatisfaction among them, discontent, ani-
ar o mosity, and terror, came to prevail to a great degree.
The duke of Chatelherault discouraged many by his
example. Defection from the Protestants added
strength to the queen-dowager. The most secret delibe¬
rations of the confederated lords were revealed to her.
The soldiery were clamorous for pay; and it was very
difficult to procure money to satisfy their claims. At¬
tempts to sooth and appease them, discovering their
consequence, engendered mutinies. They put to death
a domestic of the earl of Argyle, wrho endeavoured to
compose them to order : they insulted several persons
of rank who discovered a solicitude to pacify them ;
and they even ventured to declare, that, for a proper
reward, they were ready to suppress the Reformation,,,
,3 and to re-establish the mass.
fall It was absolutely necessary to give satisfaction to
istressthe Protestant soldiers. The lords and gentlemen of
reat the Congregation collected a considerable sum among
them; but it was net equal to the present exigency.
The avarice of many taught them to withhold what
they could afford, and the poverty of others did not
permit them to indulge their generosity. It was re¬
solved, that each nobleman should surrender his silver-
plate to be coined. By the address, however, of the
queen-dowager, the officers of the mint were bribed to
conceal, or to convey to a distance, the stamps and in¬
struments of coinage. A gloomy despair gave disquiet
to the Congregation, and threatened their ruin. Queen
Elizabeth, with whose ministers the confederated lords
maintained a correspondence at this time, had frequently
promised them her assistance; but they could not now
32
D ions
queen
belli.
LAND. 693
wait the event of a deputation to the court of England. Scotland.
In an extremity so pressing, they therefore applied for ——^
a sum of money to Sir Ralph Sadler and Sir James
Croft, the governors of Berwick; and Cockburn of
Ormiston, who was entrusted with this commission, ob- rq4
tained from them a supply of 4000 crowns. Traitors, EnglLh
however, in the councils of the Congregation, having subsidy
informed the queen dowager of his errand and expedi-^™”
tion, the earl of Both well, by her order, intercepted ~
him upon his return, discomfited his retinue, and made
a prize of the English subsidy.
To rouse the spirit of the party, an attack was pro¬
jected upon Leith, and some pieces of artillery were
planted against it. But before any charge could be
made, the French soldiers sallied out to give battle to 595
the troops of the Congregation, possessed themselves The Pro¬
of their cannon, and drove them back to Edinburgh, de-.
A report that the victors had entered this city with the feated*
fugitives, filled it with disorder and dismay. The earl
of Argyle and his Highlanders hastened to recover the
honour of the day, and harassed the French in their
retreat. This petty conflict, while it elated the queen-
dowager, served to augment the despondence of the
Protestants.
Vain of their prowess, the French made a new sally
from Leith, writh a view to intercept a supply of pro¬
visions and stores for the Congregation. The earl of
Arran and the lord James Stuart advanced to attack
them, and obliged them te retire. Bht pursuing them
with too much precipitation, a fresh body of French S96
troops made its appearance. It was prudent to retreat, The Pm-
but difficult. An obstinate resistance was made. It was testant*.
the object of the French to cut off the soldiery of
Congregation from Edinburgh, and by these means to
divide the strength of that station.- The earl of Arran
and the lord James Stuart had occasion for all their
address and courage. Though they were able, how¬
ever, to effect their escape, their loss was considerable,
and the victory wras manifestly on the side of their ad¬
versaries. 597
About this time William Maitland of Lethington, Maitland
secretary to the queen-dowager, withdrew secretly from the queen-
Leith, and joined himself to the confederated nobles.dowager s
He had been disgusted w'ith the jealousies of the French 7o’
counsellors, and was exposed to danger from having the Pm-,
embraced the doctrines of the reformed. His reception testams.
was cordial, and corresponded to the opinion enter¬
tained of his wisdom and experience. He was skilled
in business, adorned with literature, aad accustomed to
reflection. But as yet it was not known, that his want
of integrity was in proportion to the greatness of his
talents.
The accession of this statesman to their party could
not console the lords of the Congregation for the un¬
promising aspect of their affairs. The two discomfi¬
tures they had received sunk deeply into the minds of
their followers. Those who affected prudence, retired
privately from a cause which they accounted desperate;
and the timorous fled with precipitation. The wailings
and distrust of the brethren were melancholy and infec¬
tious ; and by exciting the ridicule and scorn of the par¬
tisans of the queen-dowager, were augmented the more.
A distress not to be comforted seemed to have invaded .
the Protestants ; and the associated nobles consented to -
abandon the capital. A little after midnight, they re¬
tired
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
598
They retire
from Edin¬
burgh to
Stirling.
599
John Knox
encourages
them.
tired from Edinburgh ; and so great was the panic
which prevailed, that they marched to Stirling without
making any halt.
John Knox, who had accompanied the Congregation
to Stirling, anxious to recover their unanimity and
courage, addressed them from the pulpit. He repre¬
sented their misfortunes as the consequences of their
sins ; and entreating them to remember the goodness
of their cause, assured them, in the end, of joy, honour,
and victory. His popular eloquence corresponding to
all their warmest wishes, diffused satisfaction and cheer¬
fulness. They passed from despair to hope. A coun¬
cil was held, in which the confederated nobles deter¬
mined to solicit, by a formal embassy, the aid of Queen
Elizabeth. Maitland of Lethington, and Robert Mel-
vil, were chosen to negociate this important business ;
and they received the fullest instructions concerning
the state and difficulties of the Congregation, the ty¬
rannical designs of the queen-dowager, and the danger
which threatened England from the union of Scotland
600 with France.
Elizabeth The queen of England having maturely considered
case, determined to assist the reformers; whose lead-
reformers.0 ers now dispersed, and went to different parts of the
kingdom, to employ their activity there for the common
cause. The queen-dowager, imagining that the lords
were fled, conceived great hopes of being able at once
to crush the reformed. Her sanguine hopes, however,
were soon checked, on receiving certain intelligence that
Queen Elizabeth was resolved to assist them. She now
took the best measures possible, as circumstances then
601 stood; and determined to crush her enemies before they
TheFrench could receive any assistance from England. Her French
troopst, troops took the road to Stirling, and wasted in their
estates of march all the grounds which belonged to the favourers
the reform-of the reformation. After renewing their depredations
ers. at Stirling, they passed the bridge ; and proceeding a-
long the side of the river, exercised their cruelties and
oppressions in a district which had distinguished itself
by an ardent zeal against popery. While the terror of
their arms was thus diffusing itself, they resolved to
seize on the town and castle of St Andrews, which
they considered as an important military station, and
as a convenient place of reception for the auxiliaries
60O which they expected from France.
They are But the lord James Stuart exerted himself to inter-
opposed rupt their progress and frustrate their attempts; and
with sue- vvas 0ijject at the same time to keep the force of
LordJamest‘lc Congregation entire, to hazard no action of import-
Stuart. ance, and to wait the approach of the English army.
A small advantage was obtained by the French at Pet-
ticur; and they possessed themselves of Kinghorn. The
lord James Stuart, with 500 horse and 100 foot, enter¬
ed Dysart. With this inconsiderable force he propos¬
ed to act against an army of 4000 men. His admir¬
able skill in military affairs, and his great courage,
were eminently displayed. During 20 days he pre¬
vented the march of the French to St Andrews, inter-
• cepting their provisions, harassing them with skirmish¬
es, and intimidating them by the address and the bold¬
ness of his stratagems.
Monsieur d’Oysel, enraged and ashamed at being dis¬
concerted and opposed by a body of men so dispropor-
tioned to his army, exerted himself with vigour. The
lord James Stuart was obliged to retire. Dysart and
Wemyss were delivered up to the French troops to be Scotland,
pillaged; and when d’Oysel was in full march to St—v**.
Andrews, he discovered a powerful fleet bearing up the ?03
frith. It was concluded, that the supplies expected
from France were arrived. Guns were fired by his fleet.
soldiers, and their joy was indulged in all its extrava¬
gance. But this fleet having taken the vessels which
contained their provisions, and the ordnance with
which they intended to improve the fortifications of
the castle at St Andrews, an end was put to their
rejoicings. Certain news was brought, that the fleet
they observed was the navy of England, which had
come to support the Congregation. A consternation,
heightened by the giddiness of their preceding trans¬
ports, invaded them. Monsieur d’Oysel now perceived 604
the value and merit of the service which had been per-TheFiencli
formed by the lord James Stuart; and thinking no moregpneral
of St Andrews and conquest, fled to Stirling, in hisflies‘
way to Leith, from which he dreaded to be intercept-
e.d; but he reached that important station after a
march of three days. 605
A formal treaty was now concluded between the lords Treaty
of the Congregation and Queen Elizabeth ; and in the1Jft.ween
mean time the queen-dowager was disappointed in heran^ 1
expectations from France. The violent administration Scots Fro-
of the house of Guise had involved that nation in trou-testants.
bles and distress. Its credit was greatly sunk, and its
treasury nearly exhausted. Persecutions, and the spirit T]l(f^een-
of Calvinism, produced commotions and conspiracies ; regent dis-
and amidst domestic and dangereus intrigues and strug-appointed
gles, Scotland failed to engage that particular distinction1111,er.cx-
which had been promised to its affairs. It was not. 0M
however, altogether neglected. The count de Mar-France,
tigues had arrived at Leith with 1000 foot and a few
horse. The marquise d’Elbeuf had embarked for it
with another body of soldiers ; but, after losing several
ships in a furious tempest, was obliged to return to
the haven whence he had sailed. 607
In this sad reverse of fortune many forsook the queen- She is dc-
dowager. It was now understood that the English army serle<*
was on its march to Scotland. The Scottish lords whoger‘ 0f ia,r
had affected a neutrality, meditated an union with tbesubjects.
Protestants. The earl of Huntly gave a solemn assur¬
ance that he would join them. Proclamations were
issued throughout the kingdom, calling on the subjects
of Scotland to assemble in arms at Linlithgow, to re¬
establish their ancient freedom, and to assist in the
utter expulsion of the French soldiery.
The English fleet in the mean time, under Winter
the vice-admiral, had taken and destroyed several ships,
had landed some troops upon Inchkeith, and discomfit- 608
ed a body of French mercenaries. On being apprised The prin-
of these acts ofhostility, the princes of Lorraine despatch-ce? Lor*
ed the chevalier de Seure to Queen Elizabeth, to makeraine.a,t’
representations against this breach of peace, and to urge 1)eCT0Ciate
the recal of her ships. This ambassador affected like- with Queen
wise to negociate concerning the evacuation of Scot- Elizabeth
land by the French troops, and to propose methods by111 valU'
which the king of France might quarter the arms of
England without doing a prejudice to Queen Elizabeth ;
but to prevent the execution of vigorous resolutions
against the queen dowager, and to gain time, were the
only objects which he had in view. With similar in¬
tentions, John Monluc bishop of Valence, a man of
greater address and ability, and equally devoted to the
house
SCOT
eotland. house of Guise, was also sent at this time to the court
"■"v”"’”'' of England. Queen Elizabeth, however, and her mi-
gog nisters, were too wise to be amused by artifice and
lEuglish dexterity. The lord Grey entered Scotland with an
nyentersarrny of 1200 horse and 6000 foot; and the lord
I otland. Scroop, Sir James Croft, Sir Henry IPercy, and Sir
Francis Lake, commanded under him. By a cruel
policy, the queen-dowager had already wasted all the
country around the capital. But the desolation which
she had made, while it was ruinous to the Scottish
peasants, affected not the army of England. The lead¬
ers of the Congregation did not want penetration and
•foresight, and had themselves provided against this
difficulty. The duke of Chatelherault, the earls of
Argyle, Glencairn, and Menteith, the lord James
Stuart, and the lords Ruthven, Boyd, and Ochiltree,
with a numerous and formidable force, joined the Eng¬
lish commander at Preston.
Struck with the sad condition of her affairs, despair¬
ing of a timely and proper succour from France, and
reminded by sickness of her mortality, the queen-dow¬
ager retired from Leith to the castle of Edinburgh, and
610 put herself under the protection of the lord Erskine.
e queen- At the period when she was appointed to the regency,
vager ]orcj Erskine had received from the three estates
inburgh t^le c^iarge important fortress, with the injunc-
tle. ° tion to hold it till he should know their farther orders;
and he giving way to the solicitations of neither faction,
had kept it with fidelity. By admitting the queen-
dowager, he yielded to sentiments of honour and hu¬
manity, and did not mean to depart from his duty.
Only a few of her domestics accompanied her, with
the archbishop of St Andrew’s, the bishop of Dun-
en keld, and the earl Marischal.
e Pro- The confederated nobles now assembled at Dalkeith
“er to" to hold a council; and conforming to those maxims
accora- prudence and equity which, upon the eve of hostili-
dation. ties, had been formerly exercised by them, they invited
the queen-dowager to an amicable conclusion of the
present troubles. In a letter which they wrote to her,
they called to her remembrance the frequent manifestos
and messages in which they had pressed her to dismiss
the French soldiery, who had so long oppressed the
lower ranks of the people, and who threatened to re¬
duce the kingdom to servitude. The aversion, how¬
ever, with which she had constantly received their suit
and prayers, was so great, that they had given way to a
strong necessity, and had intreated the assistance of the
queen of England to expel these strangers by force of
arms. But though they had obtained the powerful pro¬
tection of this princess, they were still animated with a
becoming respect for the mother of their sovereign; and,
abhorring to stain the ground with Christian blood, were
disposed once more to solicit the dismission of these mer¬
cenaries, with their officers. And that no just objection
might remain against the grant of this last request, they
assured her, that a safe passage by land, to the ports of
England, should be allowed to the French; or that, if
they judged it more agreeable, the navy of Queen Eliza¬
beth should transport them to their own country. If
these proposals should be rejected, they appealed and
protested to God and to mankind, that it should be un¬
derstood and believed, that no motive of malice, or ha¬
tred, or wickedness of any kind, had induced them to
employ the fatal expedient of arms and battles; but
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
LAND.
697
that they had been compelled to this disagreeable and Scotland,
distressful remedy, for the preservation of their com-
monwealth, their religion, their persons, their estates,
and their posterity. They begged her to weigh the
equity of their petition, to consider the inconveniences
of war, and to think of the rest and quiet which were
necessary to relieve the afflictions of her daughter’s
kingdom; and they besought her to embalm her own
memory, by an immortal deed of wisdom, humanity,
and justice.
To give authority and weight to the letter of the
associated lords, the lord Grey directed Sir George
Howard and Sir James Croft to wait on the queen-
dowager and stipulate the peaceable departure of the 612
English troops, on condition that the French mercen- She still be*
aries should be immediately dismissed from her service, haves with
and prohibited from residing in Scotland. ReturninginsmcerltJ*
no direct answer to the applications made to her, she
desired time to deliberate upon the resolution which
it became her to adopt. This equivocal behaviour
corresponded with the spirit of intrigue which had
uniformly distinguished the queen-dowager ; and it is
probable, that her engagements with France did not
permit her to be open and explicit. 613
The combined armies marched towards Leith. A The French
body of the French, posted on a rising ground called
Hawk-hill, disputed their progress. During five hours tant aiiie!>,
the conflict was maintained with obstinate valbur. At
length the Scottish horsemen charged the French with
a fury which they were unable to resist. They fled to
Leith with precipitation ; and might have been cut oft'
from it altogether, if the English cavalry had exerted
themselves. Three hundred of the French soldiers
perished in this action, and a few combatants only fell
on the side of the Congregation. 614
Leith was invested. The pavilions and tents of the who lay
'English and Scottish nobility were planted at Restal-siege to
rig, and around it. Trenches were cast; and the ord-Lcltl1’
nance from the town annoying the combined armies, a
mount was raised, upon which eight cannons were
erected. A continued fire from these, against St An¬
thony’s tower in South Leith, being kept up and ma¬
naged with skill, the walls of this fabric were shaken,
and the French found it necessary to dismount their
artillery.—Negligent from security, and apprehensive
of no attack, the English and Scottish officers occu¬
pied themselves in amusements, and permitted a re¬
laxation of military discipline. The French, informed 615
of this supineness and levity, made a sally from Leith. A party of
While some of the captains were diverting themselves them cut
at Edinburgh, and the soldiery were engaged at dice0^
and cards, they entered the trenches unobserved, and,
improving their advantage, put 600 men to the sword.
After this slaughter, the Protestants were more atten¬
tive to their affairs.—Mounts were built at proper dis¬
tances, and these being fortified with ordnance, served
as places of retreat and defence in the event of sudden
incursions; and thus they continued the blockade in
a more effectual manner.
The army under the marquis D’Elbeuf, promised so
often to the queen-regent, was in vain expected by her;
but she received, at this time, supplies in money and mi¬
litary stores; and Monluc, bishop of Valence, though
defeated in dexterity by Elizabeth and her ministers,
had arrived in Scotland to try once more the arts of
f 4 T delay
698
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, delay and negociation. Conferences were held by him
' with the queen-dowager, with the English command-
Fruftless ers’ ant^ the confederated nobles; but no con-
negociation tract or agreement could be concluded. His creden-
with Eng- tials extended neither to the demolition of Leith, nor
land. to the recal of the French mercenaries: and though
he obtained powers from his court to consent to the
former of these measures, they were yet burdened with
conditions which were disgraceful to the Congrega¬
tion ; who, in the present prosperous state of their af¬
fairs, were not disposed to give up any of the objects
for which they had struggled so long, and to the at¬
tainment of which they now looked forward with a
settled hope and expectation.
Though the grave and measured orations of Monluc
could not overpower the plain and stubborn sense of
the Congregation, yet as he affected to give them ad¬
monitions and warnings, and even ventured to insult
them with menaces, they appear to have conceived a
high indignation against him. Under this impulse,
and that, in so advanced a stage of their affairs, they
might exhibit the determined firmness of their resolu¬
tions, and bind to them by an indissoluble tie the earl
of Huntly and the other persons who had joined them
617 in consequence of the English alliance, they thought
The fourth of the assurance and stability of a nevo league and co-
covenant. tenant, more solemn, expressive, and resolute, than
any which they had yet entered into and subscribed.
The nobles, barons, and inferior persons, who were
parties to this bond and association, bound themselves
in the presence of Almighty God, as a society, and as
individuals, to advance the reformation of religion, and
to procure, by all possible means, the true preaching of
the gospel, with the proper administration of the sacra¬
ments, and the other ordinances in connexion with it.
Deeply affected, at the same time, with the misconduct
of the French statesmen, who had been promoted to
high offices; with the oppressions of the French mer¬
cenaries, whom the queen-dowager kept up and main¬
tained under the colour of authority; with the tyranny
of their officers ; and with the manifest danger of con¬
quest to which the country was exposed, by different
fortifications on the sea-coast, and by other dangerous
innovations; they promised and engaged, collectively
and individually, to join with the queen of England’s
army, and to concur in an honest, plain, and unreserv¬
ed resolution of expelling all foreigners from the realm,
as oppressors of public liberty; that, by recovering the
ancient rights, privileges, and freedom of their nation,
they might live for the future under the due obedience
of their king and queen, be ruled by the laws and cus¬
toms of the country, and by officers and statesmen born
and educated among themselves. It was likewise con¬
tracted and agreed by the subscribers to this bond and
covenant, that no private intelligence by writing or
message, or communication of any kind, should be
kept up with their adversaries; and that all persons
who resisted the godly enterprise in whh h they were
united, should be regarded as their enemies, and re¬
gia duced to subjection.
The queen- W hen the strong and fervid sentiment and expression
"ive^h >r new assoc'a*']0n were communicated to the queen-
felTupao dowager, she abandoned herself to sorrow. Her mind,
despair. inclined to despondence by the increase of her malady,
felt the more intensely the cruel distractions and dis- Scotland,
quiets into which the kingdom had been driven by the --y
ambition of France, her own doating affection for the
princes of Lorraine, and the vain prognostications of
flatterers and courtiers. In the agony of passion, she
besought the malediction and curse of God to alight
upon all those who had counselled her to persecute
the preachers, and to refuse the petitions of the most
honourable portion of her subjects.
In the mean time the siege of Leith was prosecuted.
But the strength of the garrison amounting to more
than 4000 soldiers, the operations of the besiegers were
slow and languid. An accidental fire in the town,
which destroyed many houses and a great part of the
public granary, afforded them an opportunity of play¬
ing their artillery with some advantage; and, a few GJ()
days after, they made a general assault. But the seal- The Pro-
ing-ladders which were applied to the walls being tootestants
short, and Sir James Croft, who had been gained overmakean
to the queen-dowager, having acted a treacherous part,
the attempt failed of success, and 1000 men were de-0n Leith,
stroyed. The combined armies, however, did not lose
their resolution or their hopes. The English and Scots
animated the constancy of each other; and in the ra¬
tification of the treaty of Berwick, which was now
made, a new source of cordiality opened itself. Let¬
ters had also come from the duke of Norfolk, promis¬
ing a powerful reinforcement, giving the expectation
of his taking on himself the command of the troops,
and ordering his pavilion to be erected in the camp.
Leith began to feel the misery of famine, and the
French gave themselves up to despair. The besiegers 600
abounded in every thing; and the arrival of 2000 men, A rein-
the expected reinforcement from England, gave them formuent
the most decisive superiority over their adversaries. ^a’c‘sEii(r
Frequent sallies were made by the garrison, and they ianj 0
were always unsuccessful. Discouraged by defeats,
depressed with the want of provisions, and languishing
under the negligence of France, they were ready to
submit to the mercy of the Congregation. 621
Amidst this distress the queen-dowager, wasted with Death of
a lingering distemper and with grief, expired in the the queen-
castle of Edinburgh. A few days before her death, she
invited to her the duke of Chatelherault, the lord James
Stuart, and the earls of Argyle, Glencairn, and Maris-
chal, to hid them a last adieu. She expressed to them
her sorrow for the troubles of Scotland, and made it
her earnest suit, that they would consult their constitu¬
tional liberties, by dismissing the French and English
from their country; and that they would preserve a du¬
tiful obedience to the queen their sovereign. She pro¬
fessed an unlimited forgiveness of all the injuries which
had been done to her; and entreated their pardon for
the offences she had committed against them. In to¬
ken of her kindness and charity, she then embraced
them by turns; and, while the tear started in her eye,
presented to them a cheerful and smiling aspect. After
this interview, the short portion of life which remained
to her was dedicated to religion;, and that she might al¬
lure the Congregation to be compassionate to her Popish
subjects and her French adherents, she flattered them,
by calling John Willocks, one of the most popular of
their preachers, to assist and comfort her by his exhor¬
tations and prayers. He made long discourses to her
about
SCOT
cotlnml. about the abominations of the mass : "nut she appears
—v to have died in the communion of the Romish church ;
and her body being transported to France, was depo¬
sited in the monastery of St Peter, at Rheims, in
fiS2 Champagne, where her sister Renee was an abbess.
ie The death of the queen-dowager, at a period so cri-
Scucli tical, broke altogether the spirit of the French troops,
ops sub- -phey were blocked up so completely, that it was almost
impossible for any supplies to reach them either by sea
or land; and France had delayed so long to fulfil its
magnificent promises, that it was no longer in a capacity
to take any steps towards their accomplishment. Its
internal distress and disquiets were multiplying. The
nobility, impoverished by wars, were courting the re¬
wards of service, and struggling in hostility. The
clergy w'ere avaricious, ignorant, and vindictive. The
populace, knowing no trade but arms, offered their
swords to the factious. Francis II. the husband of
Mary, was without dignity or understanding. Catha¬
rine de Medicis his mother was full of artifice and false¬
hood. Insurrections were dreaded in every province.
The house of Guise was encompassed with difficulties,
and trembling with apprehensions, so that they could
not think of persisting in their views of distant con¬
quests. It was necessary that they should abandon for
a time all the proud projects they had formed for the
extension of the French monarchy. It was chiefly in
the exemption from foreign wars that they could hope
to support their own greatness, and apply a remedy to
625 the domestic disturbances of France,
ancis It appeared to Francis and Mary, that they could
i Mary not treat in a direct method with the Congregation,
icgocia- wh°m they affected to consider as rebellious subjects,
n with without derogating from their royal dignity. In nego-
izabeth. dating a peace, therefore, they addressed themselves
to Queen Elizabeth. It was by her offices and interfe¬
rence that they projected a reconciliation with the con¬
federated lords, and that they sought to extinguish the
animosities which, with so much violence, had agitated
the Scottish nation. They granted their commission
to John Monluc bishop of Valence, Nicholas Relieve
bishop of Amiens, Jacques de la Brosse, Henry Clentin
sieur d’Oysel, and Charles de la Rochefaueault sieur de
Randan; authorizing them in a body, or by two of their
number, to enter into agreements with the queen of
England. The English commissioners were Sir Wil¬
liam Cecil principal secretary of state, Nicholas Wot-
ton dean of Canterbury and York, Sir Ralph Sadler,
Sir Henry Percy, and Sir Peter Crew ; and the powers
of treaty were to be exercised by them all in conjunc-
624 tion, or by four, three, or two of them.
•omisean The plenipotentiaries of France, though empowered
femnity on]y to treat with England, were yet, by a separate
.tints r°~commission, entrusted to assure the Congregation, that,
notwithstanding the heinous guilt incurred by them,
Francis and Mary were inclined to receive them into
favour, upon their repentance and return to obedience;
and to abstain for ever from all inquiry into their con¬
duct. They had full authority, at the same time, by
this new deed, to hear, in conjunction with the com¬
missioners of Elizabeth, the complaints of the Congre¬
gation, and to grant, with their consent, the relief which
appeared to them to be the most proper and salutary.
The nobility and people of Scotland, choosing for
LAND. 069
their representatives the lord James Stuart, the lord Scotland.
Ruthven, and Maitland of Lethington, expressed their —-v——^
willingness to concur in reasonable measures for the
reestablishment of the public tranquillity. By the mode
of a formal petition, they enumerated their grievances,
laid claim to redress, and besought an uniform protec- 625
tion to their constitution and laws. To this petition And at last
the intercession of Queen Elizabeth effected the friend- Sra.n.t t,ie*r
ly attention of Francis and Mary ; and on a foundation pct‘tion’
concerted with so much propriety, Monluc and Ran¬
dan, Cecil and Wotton, the acting plenipotentiaries of
France and England, drew up and authenticated the
celebrated deed of relief and concession which does so
much honour to the spirit, perseverance and magnani¬
mity of the Scottish nation. §26
By this agreement, Francis and Mary stipulated and Nature of
consented, that no French soldiers and no foreign troops ^aty
should everbe introduced into Scotland without the coun- Protes-
sel and advice of the three estates. They concurred in tants.
opinion, that the French mercenaries should be sentback
to France, and that the fortifications of Leith should be
demolished. They agreed that commissioners should be
appointed to visit Dunbar, and to point out the works
there which ought to be destroyed; and they bound
themselves to build no new fortress or place of strength
within the kingdom, and to repair no old one, without
a parliamentary sanction. They consented to extinguish
all debts which had been contracted for the mainte¬
nance of the French and Scotch soldiery in their service.
They appointed the estates of the realm to hold a par¬
liament for the discussion of affairs of state; and they
obliged themselves to consider the acts of this assembly
as valid and effectual in every respect. They confirmed
the ancient law of the country, which prohibited the
princes of Scotland from making peace and war with¬
out the advice of the three estates. It was agreed by
them, that the three estates, in concurrence with the
queen, should elect a council for the administration of
affairs during her majesty’s absence. They became
bound to employ the natives of Scotland in the ma¬
nagement of justice both civil and criminal, in the of¬
fices of chancellor, keeper of the seals, treasurer, comp¬
troller, and in other stations of a similar nature; and to
abstain from the promotion of all foreigners to places of
trust and honour, and from investing any clergyman in
the charge of affairs of the revenue. They determined
to establish an act of oblivion, and to forget for ever
the memory of all the late transactions of war and of¬
fence. It was concluded by them, that a general peace
and reconciliation should take place among all parties.
They expressed their determination, that no pretence
should be assumed by them, from the late contentions,
to deprive any of their subjects of their estates or offices.
And they referred the reparation which might be pro¬
per to compensate the injuries which had been sustained
by bishops and ecclesiastics, to the judgment of the
three estates in parliament.
On the subject of the reformation, the plenipotenti¬
aries of England and France did not choose to delibe¬
rate and decide, though articles with regard to it had
been presented to them by the nobles and the people.
They referred this delicate topic to the ensuing meeting
of parliament; and the leaders of the Congregation en¬
gaged. that deputies from the three estates should repair
4 T 2 to
700 SCOT L A N D.
Scotland, to the king and queen, to know their intention con-
cerning matters of such high importance.
After having granted these concessions to the nobility
and the people of Scotland, on the part of their respec-
627 tive courts, Monluc and Randan, Cecil and Wotton,
Articles concluded another treaty. By this convention it was
relating to determined, that the English and French troops should
depart out of Scotland; that all warlike preparations
should cease ; that the fort of Eyemouth should be razed
to the ground, in terms of the treaty of Cambray ; that
Francis and Mary should abstain from bearing the title
and arms of England or Ireland ; that it should be con¬
sidered, whether a farther compensation should be made
to Elizabeth for the injuries committed against her ;
and that the king and queen of Scots should be fully
and sincerely reconciled to the nobility and the people
of their kingdom. The interests of England and France
were the particular objects of this agreement. But
though the concessions to the Protestants were not in¬
serted in it at full length, an expressive reference was
made to them; and they received a confirmation in
terms which could not be misunderstood. This deed
recorded the clemency of Francis and Mary to their
subjects of Scotland, the extreme willingness of the
nobility and the people to return to their duty and al¬
legiance, the representation they had offered of their
grievances, and the request of Queen Elizabeth that
redress should be afforded them ; and it appealed to
the consequent concessions which had been stipulated
to their advantage.
By these important negociations, the Protestants,
while they humbled France, flattered Queen Elizabeth;
and while they acquired a power to act in the establish¬
ment of the reformation, restored to Scotland its civil
constitution. The exclusion of foreigners from offices
of state, the limitation of the Scottish princes with re¬
gard to peace and war, the advancement of the three
estates to their ancient consequence, and the act of obli¬
vion of all offences, w'ere acquisitions most extensively
great and useful; and, while they gave the fullest se¬
curity to the reformed, gratified their most sanguine
628 expectations.
Peace pro- The peace, so fortunately concluded, was immedi-
claimed. ately proclaimed. The French mercenaries embarked
for their own country, and the English army took the
road to Berwick. Amidst events so joyful, the preachers
exhorted the confederated nobles to command the so¬
lemnity of a thanksgiving. It was ordered according¬
ly ; and after its celebration, the commissioners of the
boroughs, with several of the nobility, and the tenants
in capite, were appointed to choose and depute ministers
629 to preach the gospel in the principal towns throughout
Appoint- the kingdom. John Knox was called to discharge the
"rea'■heirs Pastora^ functions at Edinburgh, Christopher Goodman
in difterent at Andrew’s, Adam Heriot at Aberdeen, John Row
places. at Perth, Paul Methven at Jedburgh, William Christi-
son at Dundee, David Ferguson at Dunfermline, and
David Lindsey at Leith. That the business of the
church, at the same time, might be managed with pro¬
priety, superintendants were elected to preside over the
ecclesiastical affairs of particular provinces and districts.
Mr John Spotswocd was named the superintendant for
the division of Lothian, Mr John Willocks for that
of Glasgow, Mr John Winram for that of Fife, Mr
John Erskine of Dun for that of Angus and Mearns, Scotland.
and Mr John Carsewell for that of Argyle and the Isles. 
This inconsiderable number of ministers and superin¬
tendants gave a beginning to the reformed church of
Scotland. 650
Amidst the triumph and exultation of the Protestants, The par.
the meeting of parliament approached. All persons who1^1™^
had a title from law, or from ancient custom, to attendmeets*
the great council of the nation vrere called to assemble.
While there was a full convention of the greater barons
and the prelates, the inferior tenants in capite, or the
lesser barons, on an occasion so great, instead of ap¬
pearing by representation, came in crowds to give per¬
sonally their assistance and votes ; and all the com¬
missioners for the boroughs, without exception, pre¬
sented themselves.
It was objected to this parliament when it was as¬
sembled, that it could not be valid, since Francis and
Mary were not present, and hud not empowered any
person to represent them. But by the terms of the
late concessions to the nobility and the people, they had
in effect dispensed with this formality ; and the objec¬
tion, after having been wrarmly agitated for some days,
was rejected by a majority of voices. The lords of the
articles were then chosen ; and as the Protestant party
were superior to the Popish faction, they were careful,
in electing the members of this committee, to favour
all those who were disposed to forward the work of the
reformation. The first object which the lords of the ar- Cot
tides held out to parliament was the supplication of the Supplica-
nobility, gentry, and all the other persons who pro-*™11
fessed the new doctrines. It required, that the Romish
church should be condemned and abolished. It re¬
probated the tenet of transubstantiation, the merit of
works, papistical indulgences, purgatory, pilgrimages,
and prayers to departed saints; and considering them
as pestilent errors, and as fatal to salvation, it demand¬
ed, that all those w ho should teach and maintain them
should be exposed to correction and punishment. It
demanded, that a remedy should be applied against the
profanation of the holy sacraments by the catholics,
and that the ancient discipline of the church should be
restored. In fine, it insisted, that the supremacy and
authority of the pope should be abolished ; and that
the patrimony of the church should be employed in
' supporting the reformed ministry, in the provision of
schools, and in the maintenance of the poor.
This supplication of the Protestants was received in
parliament with marks of the greatest deference and re¬
spect. The popish doctrines it censured, and the strong
language it employed, excited no dispute or altercation.
The nobility, however, and the lay members, did not
think it expedient that the patrimony of the church, in
all its extent, should beallotted to the reformed ministry,
and the support of schools and the poor. Avoiding,
therefore, any explicit scrutiny into this point, the par¬
liament gave it in charge to the ministers and the lead- gjg
ingmen of the reformation, to draw up, under distinct A Confer
heads, the substance and sense of those doctrines whichs\0)1 of
ought to be established over the kingdom. Within four up>
days this important business was accomplished. The
writing or instrument to which the reformed committed
their opinions was termed, “ The Confession of Faith,
professed and believed by the Protestants within the
realm
SCOT
tilcul. realm of Scotland. ” («) It was read first to the lords
  of the articles. It was then read to the parliament;
and the prelates of the Romish church were commanded^
in the name of God, to make publicly their objections
to the doctrines it proposed. They preserved a profound
silence. A new diet was appointed for concluding the
transaction. The articles of the Confession were again
read over in their order, and the votes of parliament
were called. Of the temporal nobility, three only re¬
fused to bestow on it their authority. The earl of
Athol, and the lords Somerville and Bothwell, protest¬
ed, that “ they would believe as their fathers had done
before them.” The bishops and the estate ecclesiastical,
from a consciousness of the weakness of popery, seemed
to have lost all power of speech. No dissent, no vote,
was given by them. “ It is long (said the earl Maris-
chal), since I entertained a jealousy of the Romish faith,
and an affection to the reformed doctrines. Rut this
day has afforded me the completest conviction of the
falsehood of the one, and the truth of the other. The
bishops, who do not conceive themselves to be deficient
in learning, and whose zeal for the maintenance of the
hierarchy cannot be doubted, have abandoned their re¬
ligion, and their interest in it, as objects which admit of
no defence or justification. ” All the other constituent
members of this great council were zealous for the esta¬
blishment of the reformation, and affirmed the propriety
of its doctrines. Thus the high court of parliament,
with great deliberation and solemnity, examined, voted,
and ratified the confession of the reformed faith.
A few days after the establishment of the Confession
‘of Faith, the parliament passed an act against the mass
and the exercise of the Romish worship. And it scru¬
pled not to ordain, that all persons saying or hearing
mass should, for the first offence, be exposed to the con¬
fiscation of their estates, and to a corporal chastisement,
at the discretion of the magistrate ; that for the second
offence, they should be banished the kingdom; and that
for the third offence they should suffer the pains of death.
This fierceness, it is to be acknowledged, did not suit
the generosity of victory ; and while an excuse is sought
for it in the perfidiousness of the Romish priesthood, it
escapes not the observation of the most superficial histo¬
rians, that these severities were exactly those of which
the Protestants had complained so loudly, and with so
much justice. By another ordination, the parliament,
after having declared that the pope, or bishop of Rome,
had inflicted a deep wound and a humiliating injury
upon the sovereignty and government of Scotland, by
his frequent interferences and claims of power, com¬
manded and decreed, that, for the future, his jurisdiction
and authority should be extinpt; and that all persons
maintaining the smallest connexion with him, or with
his sect, should be liable to the loss of honour and offi¬
ces, proscription, and banishment.
These memorable and decisive statutes produced the
overthrow of the Romish religion. To obtain for these
proceedings, and to its other ordinances, the approba-
tl icts of tion of Francis and Mary, was an object of the great-
parlia- est anxiety, and of infinite moment to the three estates.
533
Iblition
o i te mass,
>34
I ;ecut-
ii spirit
o le Pro-
ti nts.
;35
I icis
a Mary
ln se to
Cl inn
LAND. 701-
Sir James Sandilands lord St John was therefore ap- Scotland,
pointed to go to France, and to express to the king and
queen tho affection and allegiance of their subjects, to
explain what had been done in consequence of the late
concessions and treaty, and to solicit their royal ratifica¬
tion of the transactions of parliament. The spirited be¬
haviour of the Congregation had, however, exceeded all
the expectations of the princes of Lorraine ; and the
business of the embassy, and the ambassador himself,
though a man of character and probity, were treated not
only with ridicule, but with insult and contumely. He
returned accordingly without any answer to his com¬
mission. Instead of submit ting the heads and topics of
a reformation to Francis and Mary, by a petition or a
narrative, the parliament had voted them into laws;
and from this informality the validity of its proceedings
has been suspected. But it is observable of the Pro¬
testants, that they had not concealed their views with
regard to religion and the abolition of Popery; that in
the grant of redress and concession, and in the deed of
treaty, ho actual prohibition was made to prevent the
establishment of the reformation ; that a general autho¬
rity was given to parliament to decide in affairs of state;
and that Francis and Mary were solemnly bound to au¬
thenticate its transactions. Though a formality was
infringed, the spirit of the treaties was yet respectecT
and maintained. The nation, of consequence, imputetF
the conduct of Francis and Mary to political reasons
suggested by the princes of Lorraine, and to the arti¬
fices of the Popish clergy; and as Elizabeth did not
refuse, on her part, the ratification of the agreements,
and solicited and pressed the French court in vain to
adopt the same measure, a strength and force were
thence communicated to this conclusion.
When the three estates despatched Sir James Sandi¬
lands to France, they instructed the earls of Morton and
Glencairn, with Maitland of Lethington, to repair to
the court of England. By these ambassadors they pre¬
sented to Elizabeth their sincere and respectful thanks,
for the attention shown by her to Scotland, in her late
most important services. And while they solicited the
continuance of her favour and protection, intreated, in
an earnest manner, that her majesty, for the establish¬
ment of a perpetual peace and amity, would be pleased
to take in marriage the earl of Arran, the next heir af¬
ter his father.to the Scottish monarchy. The queen
made new and fervent protestations of her regard and
attachment; and gave the promise of her warmest aid
when it would be necessary, in their just defence, upon
any future occasion. She spoke in obliging terms ol the
earl of Arran ; but as she found in herself no present
disposition to marriage, she desired that he might con¬
sult his happiness in another alliance. She expressed a
favourable opinion of the Scottish nobility ; and as a
demonstration of her affection and esteem, she took the
liberty to remind them of the practices which had been
employed to overturn their independency, and begged
them to consider the unanimity and concord ot their
order as a necessary guard against the ambition and
the artifice of the enemies of their nation.
The
(q) It is given at full length in Knox ; in the collection of confessions of faith, voi. ii.; and in the statute
book, pari. 1567.
702 SCOTLAND.
Scotland. The success of the Congregation, though great and
'•“’■"v—illustrious, was not yet completely decisive. The re¬
fusal of Francis and Mary to ratify their proceedings
opened a source of bitterness and inquietude. The
Popish party, though humbled, was not annihilated.
Under the royal protection it would soon be formidable.
Political considerations might arise, not only to cool the
amity of England, but even to provoke its resentment.
And France, though it could now transport no army
against Scotland, might soon be able to adopt that ex¬
pedient. Great distractions and severe calamities were
still to be dreaded. In the narrowness of their own re¬
sources they could find no solid and permanent security
against the rage and weight of domestic faction, and
the strenuous exertions of an extensive kingdom. All
their fair achievements might be blasted and over¬
thrown. Popery might again build up her towers,
and a sanguinary domination destroy alike their reli¬
efs gious and civil liberties.
Death of While the anguish of melancholy apprehensions re-
'itlfDec^ Pressed the triumph of the Congregation, the event
An. 1560. wh*c’h could operate most to their interests was announ¬
ced to them. This was the death of Francis II. The
tie which knit Scotland to France was thus broken. A
new scene of politics displayed itself. Catharine de Me-
dicis, the queen-mother, ruled Charles IX. and was the
personal enemy of the queen of Scots. The power and
the credit which Mary had lent to her uncles, and the
frequent and humiliating disappointments which the
queen-mother had suffered from her influence over Fran¬
cis, were now repaid with a studied indifference and ne¬
glect. In the full perfection of her charms, with two
crowns upon her head, and looking towards a third, she
felt herself to be without grandeur ami without conse¬
quence. Leaving a court where she had experienced
all the enjoyments of which humanity is susceptible, she
retired to Rheims, to indulge her sorrow.
In the humiliation of their queen, and in the change
produced in the councils of France, the Protestants of
Scotland found every possible encouragement to pro¬
ceed with vigour towards the full establishment of the
reformed doctrines. After the parliament had been dis¬
solved, they turned their thoughts and attention to the
plan of policy which might best suit the tenets and re¬
ligion for which they had contended. The three e-
^ states, amidst their other transactions, had granted a
Ecclesiasti- commission to John M inram, John Spottiswood, John
cal govern- Willocks, John Douglas, John Row, and John Knox,
merit ot (0 frame, and model a scheme of ecclesiastical govern-
©Gotland ,P1 . . o
new-mo- went. They were not long in complying with an or-
delled. der so agreeable to them, and composed what is termed
An. 1561. the Urst Jiooft of Discipline ; in w hich they explained
the uniformity and method which ought to be preserved
concerning .doctrine, the administration of the sacra¬
ments, the election and provision of ministers, and the
policy of the church.
A convention of the estates, gave its sanction to the
Presbyterian form of government. But while the
The*reve- ^0°k Disdpline sketched out a policy beautiful for
nues of the simplicity, still it required that the patrimony and
ancient the rich possessions of the ancient church should be
church re- allotted to the new establishment. The reformers,
therelWtn-Iwwever, 80 successful in the doctrines and the policy
ed preach- H'hwh they had proposed, were in this instance very Lin¬
ers. fortunate. This convention of the estates did not pay
1
a more respectful regard to this proposal than had been Scotland,
done by the celebrated parliament, which demolished —/
the mass and the jurisdiction of the see of Rome. They
affected to consider it as no better than a dream. The
expression “ a devout imagination ” wras applied to it in
mockery; and it was not till after long and painful
struggles, that the new establishment was able to pro¬
cure a becoming and necessary provision and support.
The Romish clergy were strenuous to continue in their
possessions, and to profit by them ; and the nobles and
the laity having seized on great proportions of the pro¬
perty of the church, were no less anxious to retain the
acquisitions they had made.
The aversion entertained to the bestowing of riches
on the Presbyterian establishment, encouraged the ar¬
dour which prevailed for advancing all the other views
and interests of the reformed. And this end w as also
promoted in no inconsiderable degree by the insidious
policy of Catharine de Medicis. She was willing to
increase and to foster all the difficulties and dangers in
the situation of the queen of Scots and her subjects. On
this account she had engaged Charles IX. to despatch
Monsieur Noailles to the Scotch parliament, to urge it,
in strong terms, to renew the ancient league between the
two kingdoms, to dissolve the alliance with England,
and to re-establish over Scotland the Popish doctrines
and the popish clergy. A new’ meeting of the estates
was assembled, which considered these strange requisi¬
tions, and treated them with the indignation they me¬
rited. Monsieur Noailles was instructed to inform his
sovereign, that France having acted with cruelty and
perfidiousness towards the Scots, by attacking their in¬
dependence and liberties under pretence of amity and
marriage, did not deserve to know them any longer as
an ally ; that principles of justice, a love of probity, and
a high sense of gratitude, did not permit the Scottish
parliament to break the confederacy w ith England,
w hich had generously protected their country against
the tyrannical views of the French court, and the trea¬
cherous machinations of the house of Guise ; and that
they were never to acknowledge the Popish clergy as a
distinct order of men, or the legal possessors of the pa¬
trimony of the church ; since, having abolished the
pow er of the pope, and renounced his doctrines, they
could bestow no favour or countenance upon his vassals
and servants.
To tins council of the estates a new supplication was
presented by the Protestants. They departed from the
high claim which they had made for the riches and
patrimony of the Popish church ; and it was only re¬
quested by them, that a reasonable provision should be
allotted to the true preachers of the gospel. This ap¬
plication, however, no less than their former exorbi¬
tant demand, Avas treated with neglect. But amidst the
anxiety manifested by the nobles and the tenants of the
crown to hold the Presbyterian clergy in subjection and
in poverty, they discovered the warmest zeal for the
extension and continuance of the reformed opinions. 6"9
For in this supplication of the Protestants, an ardent Final
desire being intimated and urged, that all the nionu-^ro^‘“n.0
ments of idolatry which remained should be utterly de-r;CSBn(i
stroyed, the fullest and most unbounded approbation was every
given to it. An act Avas accordingly passed, Avhich0?
commanded that every abbey-church, every cloister,
and every memorial Avhatever of Popery, should be Scotland.
finally
SCOT
otland. finally demolished ; and the care of this barbarous, but
' -v-—^ popular employment, was committed to those persons
who were most remarkable for their keenness and ar¬
dour in the work of the reformation. Its execution in
the western counties was given in charge to the earls
of Arran, Argyle, and Glencairn; the lord James
Stuart attended to it in the more northern districts;
and in the inland divisions of the country, it was en¬
trusted to the barons in whom the Congregation had
the greatest confidence. A dreadful devastation en¬
sued. The populace, armed with authority, spread
their ravages over the kingdom. It was deemed an
execrable lenity to spare any fabric or place where idol¬
atry had been exercised. The churches and religious
houses were everywhere defaced, or demolished ; and
their furniture, utensils, and decorations, became the
prize of the invader. Even the sepulchres of the dead
were ransacked and violated. The libraries of the ec¬
clesiastics, and the registers kept by them of their own
transactions and of civil affairs, were gathered into
heaps, and committed to the flames. Religious anti¬
pathy, the sanction of law, the exhortation of the
clergy, the hope of spoil, and, above all, the ardent de¬
sire of putting the last hand to the reformation, con¬
curred to drive the rage of the people to its wildest fury;
and, in the midst of havock and calamity, the new esta¬
blishment surveyed its importance and its power.
]jnr soli- ^ie ^eat^ Francis II. having left his queen, Mar-
t 1 to re- ry> in a very disagreeable situation while she remained
t i to her in France, it now became necessary for her to think of
£ i coun- returning to her own country. To this she was soli¬
cited both by the Protestants and Papists ; the former,
that they might gain her over to their party ; and the
latter, hoping that, as Mary was of their own persua¬
sion, Popery might once more be established in Scot¬
land. For this deputation, the Protestants chose Lord
James Stuart, natural brother to the queen ; and the
Papists, John Lesly, official and vicar-general of the
diocese of Aberdeen. The latter got the start of the
Protestant ambassador, and thus had the opportunity
of first delivering his message. He advised her strong¬
ly to beware of the lord James Stuart, whom he re¬
presented as a man of unbounded ambition, who had
espoused the Protestant cause for no other reason than
that he might advance himself to the highest employ¬
ments in the state; nay, that he had already fixed his
thoughts on the crown. For these reasons he advised
that the lord James Stuart should be confined in France
till the government of Scotland could be completely
established. But if the queen were averse to this mea¬
sure, he advised her to land in some of the northern
districts of Scotland, where her friends were most nu¬
merous ; in which case an army of 20,000 men would
accompany her to Edinburgh, to restore the Popish
religion, and to overawe her enemies. The next day
the lord James Stuart waited on her, and gave an ad¬
vice very different from that of Lesly. The surest
method of preventing insurrections, he said, was the
establishment of the Protestant religion ; that a stand¬
ing army and foreign troops would certainly lose the
affections of her subjects ; for which reason he advised
her to visit Scotland without' guards and without sol¬
diers, and he became solemnly bound to secure their
obedience to her. To this advice Mary, though she
distrusted its author^ listened with attention; and Lord
LAND.
703
James, imagining that she was prejudiced in his fa- Scotland.
vour, took care to improve the favourable opportunity; /—J
by which means he obtained a promise of the earldom
of Marr. 641
Before Mary set out from France, she received an Her dis-
embassy from Queen Elizabeth, pressing her to ratify Pu‘es with
the treaty of Edinburgh, in which she had taken care 1"lizabeth*
to have a clause inserted, that Francis and Mary should
for ever abstain from assuming the title and arms of
England and Ireland. But this was declined by the
queen of Scotland, who, in her conference with the
English ambassador, gave an eminent proof of her po¬
litical abilities. * Her refusal greatly augmented the* See Ro-
jealousies which already prevailed between her andof
Elizabeth, insomuch that the latter refused her a safe
passage through her dominions into Scotland. This
was considered by Mary as a high indignity; she rc-Queen of
turned a very spirited answer, informing her rival, 5c0^anrf*
that she could return to her own dominions without
any assistance from her, or indeed whether she would
or not. In the month of August 1561, Mary set sail
from Calais for Scotland. She left France with much
regret; and at night ordered her couch to be brought
upon deck, desiring the pilot to awaken her in the
morning, if the coast of France should be in view.
The night proved calm, so that the queen had an op¬
portunity of once more indulging herself with a sight
of that beloved country. A favourable wind now
sprang up, and a thick fog coming on, she escaped a 642
squadron of men of war which Elizabeth had set out Mary lands
to intercept her ; and on the 20th of the month she111 ^cot‘
landed safely at Leith. an
But though the Scots received their queen with the
greatest demonstrations of joy, it was not long before
an irreconcileable quarrel began to take place. The
Protestant religion was now established all over the
kingdom ; and its professors had so far deviated from
their own principles, or what ought to have been their
principles, that they would grant no toleration to the
opposite party, not even to the sovereign herself. In
consequence of this, when the queen attempted to cele- fi4-
brate mass in her own chapel of Holyroodliouse, a vio- is insulted:
lent mob assembled, and it was with the utmost dirfi-by the Pro,
culty that the lord James Stuart and some other per- te!=tants.
sons of high distinction could appease the tumult.
Marj' attempted to allay these ferments by a proclam¬
ation, in which she promised to take the advice of the
states in religious matters ; and, in the mean time, de¬
clared it to be death for any person to attempt an in¬
novation or alteration of the religion which she found
generally established upon her arrival in Scotland. A-
gainst this proclamation the earl of Ar-ran protested,
and formally told the herald, the queen’s proclamatioa
should not protect her attendants and servants if they
presumed to commit idolatry and to say mass. John
Knox declared from the pulpit, that one mass was
more terrible to him than if 10,000 armed enemies-
had landed in any part of the kingdom to re-establish
Popery. The preachers everywhere declaimed against
idolatry and the mass; keeping up, by their mistaken
zeal, a spirit of discontent and sedition throughout-the
whole kingdom. John Knox was called before the
queen to answer for the freedom of his speeches; but
his unbounded boldness, when there, gave Mary much
disquiet, as not knowing in what manner to treat hinas.
704
SCOTLAND.
Scotland. The freedoms, however, which were taken with the
queen, could not induce her to depart from that plan
of government which she had laid down in France.
To the Protestants she resolved to pay the greatest
attention ; from among them she chose her privy-
council, and heaped favours upon the lord James Stu¬
art, who for his activity in promoting the reformation
was the most popular man in the kingdom ; while to
her courtiers of the Catholic persuasion she behaved
with a distant formality.
In the mean time, the differences between the two
rival queens became every day greater. The queen of
Scotland pressed Elizabeth to declare her the nearest
heir to the crown of England, and Elizabeth urged
Mary to confirm the treaty of Edinburgh. With this
the latter could not comply, as it would in fact have
been renouncing for ever the title to that crown for
which she was so earnestly contending. Endless nego-
ciations were the consequence, and the hatred of Eli¬
zabeth to Mary continually increased. This year the
queen of Scotland amused herself by making a circuit
through part of her dominions. From Edinburgh she
proceeded to Stirling; thence to Perth, Dundee, and
•St Andrew’s. Though received everywhere with the
greatest acclamations and marks of affection, she could
not but remark the rooted aversion which had univer¬
sally taken place against Popery ; and upon her return
to Edinburgh, her attention was called to an exertion
644 of this zeal, which may be considered as highly cha-
racteristic of the times. The magistrates of this city,
strauTof a^ter t^e*r election, enacted rules, according to custom,
Edin- for the government of their borough. By one of these
. burgh. acts, which they published by proclamation, they com¬
manded all monks, friars, and priests, together with
all adulterers and fornicators, to depart from the
town and its limits within 24? hours, under the pains
of correction and punishment. Mary, justly inter¬
preting this exertion of power to be an usurpation of
the royal authority, and a violation of order, displaced
the magistrates, commanded the citizens to elect
others in their room, and granted by proclamation a
plenary indulgence to all her subjects not convicted
of any crime, to repair to and remain in her capital
at their pleasure.
Besides these disturbances on account of religion,
645 the kingdom was now in confusion from another cause.
Disordered The long continuance of civil wars had everywhere left
niaiorf the a Proneness t0 tumults and insurrections; and thefts,
11 ’ rapine, and licentiousness of every kind, threatened to
646 subvert the foundations of civil society. Mary made
hvPLord considerable preparations for the suppression of these
by Lord
James
Stuart.
disorders, and appointed the lord James Stuart her chief
justiciary and lieutenant. He was to hold two criminal
courts, the one at Jedburgh, and the other at Dum¬
fries. To assist his operations against the banditti, who
were armed, and often associated into bodies, a mili¬
tary force was necessary; but as there were at present
neither standing army nor regular troops in the king¬
dom, the county of Edinburgh, and ten others, were
commanded to have their strength in readiness to assist
him. The feudal tenants, and the allodial or free pro¬
prietors of these districts, in complete armour, and with
provisions for 20 days, were appointed to be subservient
to the purposes of his commission, andto obey his orders
■in establishing the public tranquillity. In this expe-
3
dition he was attended with his usual success. He de- Scotland,
stroyed many of the strong holds of the banditti
hanged 20 of the most notorious effenders; and order^
ed 50 more to be carried to Edinburgh, there to suffer
the penalties of law on account of their rebellious be¬
haviour. He entered into terms with the lord Grey
and Sir John Foster, the wardens of the English bor¬
ders, for the mutual benefit of the two nations ; and
he commanded the chiefs of the disorderly clans to
submit to the queen, and to obey her orders with re¬
gard to the securing of the peace, and preventing in¬
surrections and depredations in future. 647
In the mean time the queen was in a very disagree- Mary dis¬
able situation, being suspected and mistrusted by both^
parties. From the concessions which she had made totj°s‘ paf"
the Protestants, the Papists supposed that she had a
design of renouncing their religion altogether ; while
on the other hand, the Protestants could scarcely allow
themselves to believe that they owed any allegiance to
an idolater. Disquiets of another kind also now took 648
place. The Duke of Chatelherault, having left the Ca- Characters
tholics to join the opposite party, was neglected by his^^^'
sovereign. Being afraid of some danger to himself, hecourtierSi
fortified the castle of Dumbarton, which he resolved to
defend ; and, in case of necessity, to put himself under
the protection of the queen of England.—The earl of
Arran was a man of very slender abilities, but of bound¬
less ambition. The queen’s beauty had made an im¬
pression on his heart, and his ambition made him fancy
himself the fittest person in the kingdom for her hus¬
band. But his fanaticism, and the violence with which
he had opposed the mass, had disgusted her. He bore
her dislike with an uneasiness that preyed upon his in¬
tellects and disordered them. It was even supposed that
he had concerted a scheme to possess himself of her per¬
son by armed retainers; and the lords of her court were
commanded to be in readiness to defeat any project of
this nature. The earl of Bothwell was distinguished
chiefly by his prodigalities and the licentiousness of his
manners. The earl Marischal had every thing that was
honourable in his intentions, but was wary and slow.
The earl of Morton possessed penetration and ability,
but was attached to no party or measures from any
principles of rectitude: His own advantage and inte¬
rests were the motives by which he was governed. The
earl of Huntly the lord chancellor, was unquiet, vari¬
able, and vindictive: His passions, now fermenting
with violence, were soon to break forth in the most
dangerous practices. The earls of Glencairn and
Menteith were deeply tinctured with fanaticism ; and
their inordinate zeal for the new opinions, not less
than their poverty, recommended them to Queen Eli¬
zabeth. Her ambassador Randolph, advised her to
secure their services, by addressing herself to their
necessities. Among courtiers of this description, it
was difficult for Mary to make a selection of ministers
in whom she might confide. The consequence and
popularity of the lord James Stuart, and of Maitland of
Lethington, had early pointed them out to this distinc¬
tion ; and hitherto they had acted to her satisfaction.
They were each of eminent capacity: but the former
was suspected of aiming at the sovereignty; the latter
was prone to refinement and duplicity; and both were
more attached to Elizabeth than became them as the
ministers and subjects of another sovereign.
Beside
SCOT
Gotland. Beside the policy of employing and trusting states-
—v men who were Protestants, and the precaution of main¬
taining a firm peace with England, Mary had it also at
649 heart to enrich the crown with the revenues of the an¬
te obtainscient church. A convention of estates was assembled
part of to deliberate on this measure. The bishops were alarm-
jeecde- e(j at their perilous situation. It was made known to
nues* re" them, that the charge of the queen’shousehold required
an augmentation ; and that as the rents of the church
had flowed chiefly from the crown, it was expedient that
a proper proportion of them should now be resumed to
uphold its splendour. After long consultations, the pre¬
lates and ecclesiastical estate consideringthat they exist¬
ed merely by the favour of the queen, consented to re¬
sign to her the third part of their benefices, to be mana¬
ged at her pleasure; with the reservation that they would
besecuredduringtheirlivesagainst all farther payments,
and relieved from the burden of contributing to the
maintenance of the reformed clergy. With this offer
the queen and the convention of estates were satisfied.
Rentals, accordingly, of all their benefices throughout
the kingdom were ordered to be produced by the an¬
cient ecclesiastics; the reformed ministers, superintend-
ants, elders, and deacons, were enjoined to make out
registers of the grants or provisions necessary to support
their establishment; and asupereminent pow'er of judg¬
ing in these matters was committed to the queen and
the privy-council.
While the prelates and ecclesiastical estate submitted
'to this offer from the necessity of their affairs, it was by
no means acceptable to the reformed clergy, who at this
time were holding an assembly. It was their earnest
wish to effect the entire destruction of the ancient esta¬
blishment, to succeed to a large proportion of their emo¬
luments, and to be altogether independent of thecrown.
But while the Protestant preachers were naturally and
unanimously of these sentiments, the nobles and gentle¬
men who had promoted the reformation were disposed
to think very different!}'. To give too much of the
w ealth of the church to the reformed clergy, was to in¬
vest them with a dangerous power. To give too great
a proportion of it to the crown, was a step still more
dangerous. At the same time it was equitable, that the
ancient clergy should be maintained during their lives;
and it accorded with the private interests of the noble¬
men and gentlemen, who had figured during the refor¬
mation, not to consent to any scheme that would de¬
prive them of the spoils of which they had already pos¬
sessed themselves out of the ruins of the church, or
650 which they might still be enabled to acquire.
lad success Thus, public as well as private considerations cor.tri-
: the de- buted to separate and divide the lay Protestants and the
teProte Preac^ers* 1 h® general assembly, therefore, of the
ant3. church, was not by any means successful in the views
which had called them together at this time, and which
they submitted to the convention of estates. Doubts
were entertained whether the church had any title to
assemble itself. The petition preferred for the complete
abolition of idolatry, or for the utter prohibition of the
mass, was rejected, notwithstanding all the zeal mani¬
fested by the brethren. The request that Mary should
give authority to the book of discipline, was not only
refused, but even treated with ridicule. Theonly point
pressed by the church which attracted any notice, was
its requisition of a provision or a maintenance ; but the
Vol. XVftl. Part II.
LAND. 70S
measure proposed for this end wTas in opposition to all Scotland,
its warmest desires. c—y—
This measure, however, so unpromising to the preach¬
ers in expectation, was found to be Still more unsatis¬
factory on trial. The wealth of the Romish church had
been immense, but great invasions had been made on it.
The fears of the ecclesiastics, on the overthrow of po¬
pery, induced them to engage in fraudulent transactions
with their kinsmen and relations; in consequence of
which, many possessions were conveyed from the church
to private hands. For valuable considerations, leases
of church-lands, to endure for many years, or in perpe¬
tuity, were granted to strangers and adventurers. Sales
also of ecclesiastical property, to a great extent, had been
made by the ancient incumbents ; and a validity was
supposed to be given to these transactions by confirma¬
tions from the pope, who was zealous to assist his vo¬
taries. Even the crown itself had contributed to make
improper dispositions ofthe ecclesiastical revenues. Day¬
men had been presented to bishoprics and church-liv-
nigs, with the power of disposing of the territory in con¬
nexion with them. In this diffusion ot the property
ofthe church, many great acquisitions, and much ex¬
tensive domain, came to be invested in the nobles and
the gentry.
From these causes the grant of the third of their be¬
nefices, made by the ancient ecclesiastics to the queen,
with the burden of maintaining the reformed clergy,
was not nearly so considerable as might have been ex¬
pected. But the direction of the scheme being lodged
in the queen and the privy council, the advantage to the
crown was still greater than that bestowed upon the
preachers. Yet the carrying the project into execu¬
tion was not without its inconveniences. There were
still many opportunities for artifice and corruption: and
the full third of the ecclesiastical benefices, even after
all the previous abstractions of them which had been
made, could not be levied by any diligence; for the
ecclesiastics often produced false rentals of their bene¬
fices ; and the collectors for the crown were not always
faithful to the trust reposed in them. The complete
produce of the thirds did not amount to a great sum ;
and it was to contribute towards the expenses ot the
queen, as well as to the support ol the preachers. A. Provision
scanty proportion went to the latter; and yet the per-made for
sons who were chosen to fix their particular stipends the Prote-
were the firm friends ofthe reformation. For thisbmi- * ™chers>
ness was committed in charge to the earls of Argyle
and Morton, the lord James Stuart, and Maitland of
Lethington, with James Mackgill the cleik-iegister,
and Sir.TohnBallenden the justice-clerk. One hundred
Scottish merks were deemed sufficient for a common mi¬
nister. To the clergymen of greater interest or consi¬
deration, or who exercised their functions in more ex¬
tensive parishes, 300 merks were allotte'd; and, except¬
ing to superintendants, this sum was seldom exceeded.
To the earl of Argyle, to the lord James Stuart, to
lord Erskine, who had large ecclesiastical revenues,
their thirds were usually remitted by the queen; and
on the establishment of this fund or revenue, she also
granted many pensions to persons about her court and
of her household. 652
The complaints of the preachers were made withlittle The whole
decency,and did not contribute to improve their condi-party dis-
tion. The coldness of the Protestant laity, and the bu- satisfied.
-j- 4 U manity
SCOTLAND.
*706
Scotland. manity shown to the ancient clergy, were deep wounds
 'both to their pride and to their interests. To a mean
spirit of flattery to the reigning power, they imputed
the defection of their friends ; and against the queen
they were animated with the bitterest animosity. The
poverty in which they were suffered to remain inflamed
all their passions. They industriouslysought to indulge
their rancour and turbulence ; and inveterate habits
of insult fortified them with a contempt of authorit}'.
To the queen, whose temper was warm, the rudeness
of the preachers was a painful and endless inquietude,
which, while it fostered her religious prejudices, had
the good effect of confirming her constancy to her
friends, and of keeping alive her gratitude for their ac¬
tivity. The lord James Stuart, who was entitled to her
respect and esteem from his abilities, and his proximity
to her in blood, had merited rewards and honours by
his public services and the vigour,of his counsels. Af¬
ter his successful discharge of her commission as chief
justiciary and lord lieutenant, she could not think of
653 allowing him to descend from these offices, without be-
Honours stowing on him a solid and permanent mark of her fa-
conferred your. She advanced him to the rank of her nobility,
James ‘-’tu conferring on him the earldom of Mar. At the
art. same time she contributed to augment his consequence,
by facilitating his marriage with Agnes the daughter
of the earl Marischal ; and the ceremonial of this al¬
liance was celebrated with a magnificence and osten¬
tation so extravagant in that age, as to excite the
fears of the preachers lest some avenging judgment or
calamity should afflict the land. They exclaimed with
virulence against his riotous feasting and banquets ;
and the masquerades which were exhibited on this
occasion, attracting'in a still greater degree their at¬
tention, as being a species of entertainment hitherto
unknown in Scotland, and which was favourable to the
profaneness of gallantry, they pointed against them
the keenest strokes of their censure and indignation.
The abilities of the earl of Mar, the ascendency he
maintained in the councils of his sovereign, and the dis¬
tinctions which he had acquired, did not fail to expose
654 him to uncommon envy. The most desperate of his e-
Knnuty of nemies, and the most formidable, was the earl of Hunt-
Huntly t^e^r rivalship for power, many causes of disgust
wards him. arisen. The one was at the head of the Protestants,
An. 1562. tne other was the leader of the Papists. On the death
of Francis II. Huntly and the Popish faction had sent
a deputation to Mary, inviting her to return to Scot¬
land, and offering to support her with an army of20,000
men. His advances were treated with attention and
civility; but his offer was rejected. The invitation of
the Protestants, presented by the earl of Mar, was
more acceptable to her. Huntly had advised her to de¬
tain his rival in confinement in France till the Catholic
religion should be reestablished in Scotland. This ad-
655 vice she not only disregarded, but caressed his enemy
Huntly with particular civilities. On her arrival in her own
presses the country, Huntly renewed his advances, offer inti to her
restore the to fect UP tlie rnass 111 the northern counties. He
Popish re- even conversed in a pressing manner upon this subject
ligion, with her uncles and the French courtiers who attended
her. Still no real attention was paid to him. He came
to her palace, and was received only with respect. He
was lord high chancellor without influence, and a pri¬
vy councillor without trust. The earl of Mar had the
confidence of his sovereign, and was drawing to him the Scotland-
authority of government. These were cruel mortifica-v-—^
tions to a man of high rank, inordinate ambition, im¬
mense wealth, and who commanded numerous and war¬
like retainers. But he was yet to feel a stroke still
more severely excruciating, and far more destructive of
his consequence. The opulent estate of Mar, which
Mary had erected into an earldom, and conferred on
his rival, had been lodged in his family for some time.
He considered it as his property, and that it was never
to be torn from his house. This blow was at once to
insult most sensibly his pride, and to cut most fatally
the sinews of his greatness. 656
After employing against the earl of Mar those arts He accuses
of detraction and calumny which are so common intlieloril
courts, he drew up and subscribed a formal memorial,
in which he accused him of aiming at the sovereignty s011.
of Scotland. This paper he presented to the queen ;
but the arguments with which he supported his charge
being weak and inconclusive, she was the more confirm¬
ed in her attachment to her minister. Huntly then ad¬
dressing himself to the earl of Bothwel, a man disposed
to desperate courses, engaged him to attempt involving
the earl of Mar and the house of Hamilton in open
and violent contention. Bothwel represented to Mar
the enmity which had long subsisted between him and
the house of Hamilton. It was an obstacle to his 657
greatness; and while its destruction might raise him at'
to the highest pinnacle of power, it would be most ac‘as™ssinate
ceptable to the queen, who, beside the hatred which him.
princes naturally entertain to their successors, was ani¬
mated b}r particular causes of offence against the duke
of Chatelherault and the earl of Arran. He concluded
his exhortation with making an unlimited offer of his
most strenuous services in the execution of this flagi¬
tious enterprise. The earl of Mar, however, abhor¬
ring the baseness of the project, suspicious of the sin¬
cerity of the proposer, or satisfied that his eminence
did not require the aid of such arts, rejected all his ad¬
vances. Bothwel, disappointed on one side, turned him¬
self to the other. He practised with the house of Ha¬
milton to assassinate the earl of Mar, whom they con¬
sidered as their greatest enemy. The business, he said,
might be performed with ease and expedition. The
queen was accustomed to hunt in the park of Falkland ;
and there the earl of Mar, not suspecting any danger,
and ill attended, might be overpowered and put to
death. The person of the queen, at the same time,
might be seized ; and by keeping her in custody, a
sanction and security might be given to their crime.
The integrity of the earl of Arran revolting against this
conspiracy, defeated its purposes. Dreading the perpe¬
tration of so cruel an action, and yet sensible of the re¬
solute determination of his friends, he wrote privately
to the earl of Mar, informing him of his danger. But
the return of Mar to his letter', thanking him for his
intelligence, being intercepted by the conspirators, Ar¬
ran was confined by them under a guard in Kenneil-
house. He effected his escape, however, and made a 65g
full discovery of the plot to the queen. Yet as in a But fait?
matter so dark he could produce no witnesses and noin his at-
written vouchers to confirm his accusations, he, accord-temi3t‘
ing to the fashion of the times, offered to prove his in¬
formation, by engaging Bothwel in single combat. And
though, in Iris examinations before the privy-council,
his
SCOT
icotlaml. his love to the queen, his attachment to the earl of
- v Mar, the atrocity of the scheme he revealed, and,
above all, his duty and concern for his father the duke
of Chatelherault, threw him into a perturbation of mind
which expressed itself violently in his speech, his coun¬
tenance, and his actions; yet his declarations, in ge-
ral, were so consistent and firm, that it was thought
advisable to take the command of the castle of Dum¬
barton from the duke of Chatelherault, to confine the
other conspirators to different prisons, and to wait the
farther discoveries which might be made by time and
accident.
The earl of Huntly, inflamed by these disappoint¬
ments, invented other devices. He excited a tumult
while the queen and the earl of Mar were at St An¬
drew’s with only a few attendants; imagining that the
latter would sally forth to quell the insurgents, and that
a convenient opportunity would thus be afforded for
putting him to the sword without detection. The cau¬
tion, however, of the earl of Mar, defeating this pur¬
pose, he ordered some of his retainers to attack him in
the evening when he should leave the queen ; but these
assassins being surprised in their station, Huntly affect¬
ed to excuse their being in arms in a suspicious place
and at a late hour, by frivolous apologies, which,
though admitted, could not be approved.
About this period, too, letters were received by Mary
from the pope and the cardinal of Lorraine, in conse¬
quence of the intrigues of the earl of Huntly and the
Catholic faction. They pressed her to consider, that
while this nobleman was the most powerful of her sub¬
jects, he was by far the most zealous in the interests of
the church of Rome. They intreated her to flatter him
with the hope of her marriage with Sir John Gordon
his second son ; held out to her magnificent promises
of money and military supplies, if she w ould set herself
seriously to recover to power and splendour the ancient
religion of her country ; and recommended it to her to
take measures to destroy the more strenuous Protestants
about her court, of whom a roll was transmitted to her,
which included the name of her confidant and minister
the earl of Mar. These letters could not have reach¬
ed her at a juncture more unfavourable to their success.
The earl of Mar, to whom she communicated them,
was encouraged to proceed with the greatest vigour
in undermining the designs and the importance of his
659 enemies.
John New incidents exasperated the animosities of the ene-
rdon mjes 0f t]ie eari 0f jyjar and I)is own. Sir John Gor-
rdOgil- d°n ani*the lort* Ogilvie having a private dispute, hap-
andfs" pened to meet each other in the high street of Edin-
rehend- burgh. They immediately drew their swords ; and the
lord Ogilvie receiving a very dangerous wound, Sir John
Gordon was committed to prison by the magistrates.
The queen, at this time in Stirling, was informed by
them of the riot; and while they expressed a fear lest
the friends of the prisoner should rise up in arms to give
him his liberty, they mentioned a suspicion which pre¬
vailed, that the partisans of the lord Ogilvie were to
assemble themselves to vindicate his quarrel. The
queen, in her reply, after commending their diligence,
instructed them to continue to have a watch over their
prisoner ; made known her desire that the law should
take its course; and counselled them to have no ap¬
prehensions of the kindred of the parties at variance,
3
LAND. 707
but to rely on the earl of Mar for providing a suffi- Scotland,
cient force for their protection. Sir John Gordon,'—
however, found means to break from his confinement;^®®^ ^
and flying into Aberdeenshire, filled the retainers oftVojn^ri-^
his family with his complaints, and added to the dis-son,
quiets of his father the earl of Huntly.
The queen, on returning to Edinburgh, held a con¬
sultation on affairs of state with her privy council; and
soon after set out in a progress to the northern parts of
her kingdom. At Aberdeen she was met by the lady
Huntly, a woman of deep dissimulation and of refined
address; who endeavoured to conciliate her affections,
was prodigal of flattery, expressed her zeal for the Pop¬
ish religion, and let fall insinuations of the great power
of her husband. She then interceded with the queen
for forgiveness to her son : and begged with a keen im¬
portunity, that he might be permitted to have the ho¬
nour to kiss her hand. But Mary having told her, that
the favour she had solicited could not be granted till
her son should return to the prison from which he had
escaped, and submit to the justice of his country, the
lady Huntly engaged that he should enter again into
custody, and only intreated, that, instead of being con¬
fined at Edinburgh, he should be conducted to the
castle of Stirling. This request was complied with ;
and in the prosecution of the business, a court of justi¬
ciary being called, Sir John Gordon made his appear¬
ance, and acknowledged himself to be the queen’s pri- 661
soner. The lord Glammis was appointed to conduct ancl at-
him to the castle of Stirling. But on the road to this ^
fortress, he eluded the vigilance of his guards, hast- bdlion.
ened back, and gathering 1000 horsemen among his
retainers, entrusted his security to the sword.
In the mean time, the queen continued her progress.
The earl of Huntly joined himself to her train. His
anxiety to induce her to allow him to attend her to his
house of Strathbogie was uncommon ; his intreaties
were even pressed beyond the bounds of propriety. The
intelligence arrived of the escape and rebellion of Sir
John Gordon. The behaviour of the father and the
son awakened in her the most alarming suspicions. As¬
sembling her privy-council, who, according to the fa¬
shion of those times, constituted her court, and attended
her person in her progresses through her dominions;
she, Avith their advice, commanded her heralds to
charge Sir John Gordon and his adherents to return to
their allegiance, and to surrender to her their houses of
strength and castles, under the penalties of high trea¬
son and forfeiture. Disdaining now to go to the house
of the earl of Huntly, where, as it afterwards appeared,
that nobleman had made secret preparations to hold her
in captivity, she advanced to Inverness by a different
route. In the castle of Inverness she proposed to take
up her residence ; but Alexander Gordon the deputy
governor, a dependent of the family of Huntly, refused
to admit her. She was terrified with the prospect of
certain and imminent danger. Her attendants were
few in number, the town was without walls, and the in¬
habitants were suspected. In this extremity, some ships
in the river were kept in readiness as a last refuge ; and
she issuedaproclamation, commanding ail her loyal sub¬
jects in those parts immediately to repair to her for her
protection. The Frasers and Monroes came in crowds
to make her the offer of their swords. The Clan Chat-
tan, though called to arms by the earl of Huntly, for-
4 U 2 sook
708
SCOTLAND.
Scotland. SOok his standard for that of their sovereign, when they
'—"v discovered that his intentions were hostile to her. She
employed this strength in laying siege to the castle,
which surrendered itself on the first assault. The lives
of the common soldiers were spared, but the deputy-
governor was instantly executed. The queen, full of
apprehensions, returned to Aberdeen.
To intimidate the earl of Huntly, to revenge the
troubles which his family had created to the queen,
and to convince him that his utter ruin was at hand,
a measure infinitely humiliating was now concerted
and put in practice. The earl of Mar resigned the
rich estate of that name to the lord Erskine, who laid
claim to it as his right ; and received in recompense,
after its erection into an earldom, the territory of
Murray, which made an extensive portion of the pos¬
sessions of the Earl of Huntly.
The lady Huntly hastened to Aberdeen to throw
herself at the feet of her sovereign, to make offer of the
most humble submissions on the part of her husband,
and to avert by every possible means the downfal of his
greatness. But all access to the queen was refused her;
and the earl of Huntly was summoned to appear in per¬
son before the privy council, to answer for his conduct,
and to make a full resignation of all his castles and for¬
tresses. He did not present himself, and was declared
to be in open rebellion. A new proclamation was cir-
culated by the queen to collect a sufficient strength to
Earl of subdue the insurgents. The command of her troops
Huntly de- was given to the earl of Murray, who put them instant-
feated by }y jn motion. Huntly advancing towards Aberdeen to
give them battle, was informed of their approach. He
halted at Corrichie, solacing himself with the hope of
a decisive victory. The army of the queen was the
moi’e numerous ; but there were several companies in
it in whom little confidence could be placed. These
the earl of Murray posted in front of the battle, and
commanded them to begin the attack. They recoiled
on him in disorder, according to his expectation; but
a resolute band in .whom he trusted, holding out their
spears, obliged them to take a different course. Their
confusion and flight made Huntly conceive that the
day was his own. He therefore ordered his soldiers to
throw aside their lances, and to rush on the enemy
sword in hand. His command was obeyed, but with
no precaution or discipline. When his men came to
the place where the earl of Murray had stationed him¬
self, the points of the extended spears of his firm bat¬
talion put a termination to their progress. The panic
communicated by this unexpected resistance was im¬
proved by the vigour with which he pressed the assail¬
ants. In their turn they took to flight. The compa¬
nies of the queen’s army which had given way in the
beginning of the conflict, were now disposed to atone
for their misconduct; and taking a share in the battle,
committed a signal slaughter upon the retainers of the
earl of Huntly. This nobleman himself expired in
the throng of the pursuit. His sons Sir John Gordon
and Adam Gordon were made prisoners, with the
principal gentlemen who had assisted him.
Viary, on receiving the tidings of this success, dis¬
covered neither joy nor sorrow. The passions, how¬
ever, of the earl of Murray and his party were not yet
completely gratified. Sir John Gordon was brought
ipiniediately to trial, confessed his guilt, and was con-
t-he carl of
Ivlurray.
demned to suffer as a traitor. The sentence was ac- Scotland,
cordingly executed, amidst a multitude of spectators,—r—
whose feelings were deeply affected, while they con¬
sidered his immature death, the manliness of his spirit,
and the vigour of his form. Adam Gordon, upon ac¬
count of his tender age, was pardoned; and fines were
levied from the other captives of rank according to
their wealth. The lord Gordon, after the battle of
Corrichie, fled to his father-in-law the duke of Chatel-
herault, and put himself under his protection ; but was
delivered up by that nobleman, all whose endeavours
in his favour were ineffectual. He was convicted of
treason, and condemned ; but the queen was satisfied
with confining him in prison. The dead body of the
earl of Huntly was carried to Edinburgh, and kept
Avithout burial, till a charge of high treason was pre¬
ferred against him before the three estates. An osten¬
tatious display was made of his criminal enterprises, and
a verdict of parliament pronounced his guilt. His
estates, hereditary and moveable, were forfeited; his
dignity, name, and memory, were pronounced to be
extinct; his armorial ensigns were torn from the book
of arms ; and his posterity were rendered unable to en¬
joy any offices, honour, or rank within the realm. 6r>5
While these scenes were transacting, Mary, who was An inter-
sincerely solicitous to establish a secure amity between view l)10-
the tAvo kingdoms, opened a negociation to effect an in- *yj"a,
terview with Elizabeth. Secretary Maitland, whom she ry an(j eh-
employed in this business, met with a most gracious re- zabeth, but
ception at the court of London. The city of York Avasin vam*
appointed as the place where the two queens should ex¬
press their mutual love and affection, and bind them¬
selves to each other in an indissoluble union ; the day of
their meeting was fixed ; the fashion and articles of their
interview tvere adjusted ; and a safe-conduct into Eng¬
land Avas granted to the queen of Scots by Elizabeth,
But in this advanced state of the treaty it was unexpect¬
edly interrupted. The disturbances in France, the per¬
secution of the Protestants there, and the dangerous
consequence which threatened the reformed countries,
seemed to require Elizabeth to be particularly on her
guard, and to Avatch with eagerness the machinations of
the adversaries of her i*eligion. On these pretences she
declined for a time the projected interview ; sending to
Mary with this apology Sir Henry Sidney, a minister
of ability, whom she instructed to dive into the secret
vieAvs of the Scottish queen. This Avars a severe disap¬
pointment to Mary; but it is reasonable to believe,
that Elizabeth acted in the negociation Avithout sin¬
cerity, and on principles of policy. It was not her in¬
terest to admit into her kingdom a queea who had pre¬
tensions to her crown, and who might there strengthen
them ; who might raise the expectations of her Catho¬
lic subjects, and advance herself in their esteem ; and
who far surpassed her in beauty, and in the beAvitch-
ing allurements of conversation and behaviour. ^64
Amidst affairs of great moment, a matter of smaller Chatelard
consequence, but which is interesting in its eircum-f’a,,isll)loV8
stances, deseiwes to be recorded. Chatelard, a gentle - ^ueen>
man of family in Dauphiny, and a relation of the che¬
valier de Bayard, had been introduced to Queen Mary
by the sieur Damville, the heir of the house of Montmo¬
rency. Polished manners, vivacity, attention to please,
the talent of making verses, and an agreeable figure,
were recommendations of this man. In the court they
drew.,
SCOTLAND.
709
Gotland,
665
put to
i ith.
666
iry in-
i i les to a
ond
rriage,
i is ad-
:ssed by
umber
suitors,
i. 1563.
drew attention to him. He made himself necessary in
'all parties of pleasure at the palace. His assiduities
drew on him the notice of the queen ; and, at different
times, she did him the honour of dancing with him.
His complaisance became gradually more familiar. He
entertained her with his wit and good humour; he
made verses on her beauty and accomplishments ; and
her politeness and condescension instilled into him other
sentiments than those of gratitude and reverence. He
could not behold her charms without feeling their
power: and instead of stifling in its birth the most
dangerous of all the passions, he encouraged its growth.
In an unhappy moment, he entered her apartment;
and, concealing himself under her bed, waited the ap¬
proach of night. While the queen was undressing, her
maids discovered his situation, and gave her the alarm.
Chatelard was dismissed with disgrace, but soon after
received her pardon. The frenzy, however, of his love
compelling him to repeat his crime, it was no longer
proper to show any compassion to him. The delicate
situation of Mary, the noise of these adventures, which
had gone abroad, and the rude suspicions of her sub¬
jects, required that he should be tried for his offences
and punished. This imprudent man was accordingly
condemned to lose his head ; and the sentence was put
in execution.
The disagreeable circumstances in which Mary found
herself involved from her quarrel with Elizabeth, the
excessive bigotry and overbearingspiritofher Protestant
subjects, together with the adventure of Chatelard, and
the calumnies propagated in consequence of it, deter¬
mined her to think of a second marriage. Her beauty
and expectations of the crown of England, joined to the
kingdom which she already possessed, brought her many
suitors. She was addressed by the king of Sweden, the
king of Navarre, the prince of Conde, the duke of ber-
rara, Don Carlos of Spain, the archduke Charles of
Austria, and the duke of Anjou. Her own inclination
was to give the preference, among these illustrious lo¬
vers, to the prince of Spain ; but her determination,
from the first moment, was to make her wishes bend to
other considerations, and to render her decision on this
important point as agreeable as possible to Queen Eliza¬
beth, to the English nation, and to the Protestants in
both kingdoms. Her succession to the crown of Eng¬
land was the object nearest her heart; and Elizabeth,
wdio wished to prevent her from marrying altogether,
contrived to impress on her mind an opinion that any
foreign alliance would greatly obstruct that much desir¬
ed event. She therefore pitched on two of her own
subjects, whom she successively recommended as fit
matches for the queen of Scots ; and she promised, that
on her acceptance of either, her right of inheritance
should be inquired into and declared. Lord Robert
Dudley, afterwards earl of Leicester, was the first per¬
son proposed ; and except a manly face and fine figure
he had not one quality that could recommend him to
the Scottish princess. Whilst Mary received this suitor
with some degree of composure, she did not altogether
repress her scorn. “ She had heard good accounts (she
owned) of the gentleman ; but as Queen Elizabeth had
said, that in proposing a husband to her, she would con¬
sult her honour, she asked what honour there could be
in marrying a subject ? ” The English queen then pro¬
posed to Mary another suitor, lest her thoughts should
return to a foreign alliance. This was Lord Darnley, Scotland,
of the house of Stuart itself, whose birth was almost
equal to her own, and whom the Scottish princess was GG7,
induced to accept as a husband by motives winch wecho;ceof
have detailed elsewhere. (See Mary.) Elizabeth, Lord
however, was not more sincere in this proposal than in Darnley.
the former; for after permitting Darnley and his father
the earl of Lenox to visit Scotland merely with the view
of diverting the attention of the queen from the conti¬
nent, she threw7, in the way of the marriage, ever/ ob¬
stacle which art and violence could contrive. When
she found Mary so much entangled, that she could
scarcely retract or make any other choice than that @f
Darnley, Elizabeth attempted to prevent her from go¬
ing farther; and now intimated her disapprobation of
that marriage, which she herself had not only originally
planned, but, in these latter stages, had forwarded by
every means in her pourer. The whole council of Eli¬
zabeth declared against the marriage. Even from her
own subjects Mary met with considerable opposition.
An inveterate enmity had taken place between the duke
of Chatelherault and the carl of Lenox, in consequence
of which the former deserted the court, and very few of
the Hamiltons repaired to it. The lord James Stuart,
now earl of Murray, sought to promote the match with
Lord Dudley. In consequence of this he tvas treated
openly with disrespect by the earl of Lenox; he lost the
favour of his sovereign, and Darnley threatened him
with his vengeance when he should be married to the 6G8
queen. John Knox in the mean time behaved in the Extrava-
most furious manner, forgetting not oidy the meek andgant beha-
peaceable behaviour of a Christian, but the allegiance lJ.lour ot
of a subject. This preacher even interfered with the
marriage of his sovereign, tie warned the nobility,
that if they allowed a Papist or an infidel to obtain her
person and the government of Scotland, they would be
guilt}', to the full extent of their power, of banishing
Jesus Christ from the kingdom, of bringing down on it
the vengeance of God, of being a curse to themselves,,
and of depriving their queen of all comfort and consola¬
tion. As Darnley was a Papist, he was of consequence
execrated by the whole body of Protestants, laity as
well as clergy; while, on the other hand, he was sup¬
ported by the Earls of Athol and Caithness, the lords
Ruthven and Hume, and the whole Popish faction.
It was exceedingly unfortunate for the queen, that
neither Lord Darnley himself, nor his father lire earl of.
Lenox, had any talents for business ; and as they natu¬
rally had the direction of the queen's affairs, it is mi
wonder that these were very ill managed. But a source
of opposition, more violent than any imperfections of
their own, rose against them in the attachment which
they discovered to a person on whom the queen had of
late bestowed her favour with an imprudent prodigality. 669 ,
David Rizzio from a mean origin had raised himself to Account ■of
distinguished eminence. He was born at Turin, where David Riz*
his father earned a subsistence as a musician. Varieties Zl0*
of situation and adventure, poverty, and misfortunes,
had taught him experience. In the train.of the count
de Morette, the ambassador from the duke of Savoy, he
had arrived in Scotland. The queen, desirous of com¬
pleting her band of music, admitted him into her service.
In this humble station he had the dexterity to attract her
attention; and her French secretary falling into dis¬
grace from negligence and incapacity, he was promoted
to*
710
S C 0 T L A N 13.
Scotland, to discharge the duties of that office. A necessary and
   ’frequent admission to her company afforded him now
the fullest opportunity of recommending himself to her ;
and while she approved his manners, she was sensible of
his fidelity and his talents. His mind, however, was
not sufficiently vigorous to hear such prosperity. Am¬
bition grew on him with preferment. He interfered
in affairs of moment, intruded himself into the conven¬
tions of the nobles at the palace, and was a candidate
for greatness. The queen consulted him on the most
difficult and important business, and intrusted him with
real power. The suppleness, servility, and unbounded
complaisance which had characterised his former condi¬
tion, were exchanged for insolence, pride, and ostenta¬
tion. He exceeded the most potent barons in the state¬
liness of his demeanour, the sumptuousness of his ap¬
parel, and the splendour of his retinue. The nobles,
while they despised the lowness of his birth, and detest¬
ed him as a foreigner and a favourite, were mortified
with his grandeur, and insulted with his arrogance.
Their anger and abhorrence were driven into fury; and
while this undeserving minion, to uphold his power,
courted Darnley, and with officious assiduities advanced
his suit with the queen, he hastened not only his own
ruin, but laid the foundation of cruel outrages and of
670 public calamity.
The earl of To the earl of Murray the exaltation of Rizzio, so
iviurray offensive in general to the nation, was humiliating in a
^leen’sV more particular degree. His interference for the earl
vour.n S r of Leicester, the partiality he entertained for Elizabeth,
his connexions with Secretary Cecil, and the favour he
had shown to Knox, had all contributed to create in
Mary a suspicion of his integrity. The practices of
Darnley and Rizzio were thence the more effectual ;
and the fullest weight of their influence was employed
to undermine his power. His passions and disgusts were
violent; and in his mind he meditated revenge. Mary,
aware of her critical situation, was solicitous to add to
her strength. Bothwel, who had been imprisoned for
conspiring against the life of the Earl of Murray, and
who had escaped from confinement, was recalled from
France; the earl of Sutherland, an exile in Flanders,
was invited home to receive his pardon; and George
Gordon, the son of the earl of Huntly, was admitted
to favour, and was soon reinstated in the wealth and
honours of his family.
An. 1565. As soon as Bothwel arrived, the earl of Murray in¬
sisted that he should be brought to trial for having plot¬
ted against his life, and for having broke from the place
of his confinement. This was agreed to; and on the
day of trial Murray made his appearance with 800 of
his adherents. Bothwel did not choose to contend with
such a formidable enemy ; he therefore fled to France,
and a protestation was made, importing that his fear of
violence had been the cause of his flight. The queen
commanded the judge not to pronounce sentence. Mur¬
ray complained loudly of her partiality, and engaged
more deeply in cabals with Queen Elizabeth. Darn-
le}y in the mean time, pressed his suit with eagerness.
The queen used her utmost endeavours to make Murray
subscribe a paper expressing a consent to her marriage;
but all was to no purpose. Many of the nobility, how¬
ever, subscribed this paper; and she ventured to sum¬
mon a convention of the estates at Stirling, to whom she
opened the business of the mftrriage; and who approved
her choice, provided the Protestant should continue to Scotland,
be the established religion of the country.
In the mean time ambassadors arrived from England,
with a message importing Elizabeth’s entire disapproba¬
tion and disallowance of the queen’s marriage with Lord
Darnley. But to these ambassadors Mary replied only,
that matters were gone too far to be recalled; and that
Elizabeth had no solid cause of displeasure, since, by
her advice, she had fixed her affections not on a foreign¬
er, but on an Englishman; and since the person she
favoured was descended of a distinguished lineage, and
could boast of having in his veins the royal blood of
both kingdoms. Immediately after this audience she
created lord Darnley a lord and a knight. The oath
of knighthood was administered to him. He was made
a baron and a banneret, and called Lord Armanagl.
He was belted earl of Ross. He then promoted 14 gen¬
tlemen to the honour of knighthood, and did homage
to the queen, without any reservation of duty to the
crown of England, where his family had for a long
time resided. His advancement to be duke of Albany
was delayed for a short time ; and this was so much re¬
sented by him, that, when informed of it by the lord
Ruthven, he threatened to stab that nobleman.
In the mean time the day appointed for the assembly
of parliament, which was finally to determine the sub¬
ject of the marriage, was now approaching. The earl
of Murray, encouraged by the apparent firmness of Eli¬
zabeth, goaded on by ambition, and alarmed with the
approbation bestowed by the convention of the estates
on the queen’s choice of Lord Darnley, perceived that
the moment was at hand when a decisive blow should
be struck. To heighten the resentments of his friends,
and to justify in some measure the violence of his pro¬
jects, he affected to be under apprehensions of being as¬
sassinated by the lord Darnley. His fears were sounded
abroad; and he avoided going to Perth, where he af¬
firmed that the plot against him was to be carried into 571
execution. He courted the enemies of Darnley with An associa-
unceasing assiduity ; and united to him in a confederacy tl0naS;linst
the duke of Chatelherault, and the earls of Argyle,^^^.
Rothes, and Glencairn. It was not the sole object ofjey.
their association to oppose the marriage. They engaged
in more criminal enterprises. They meditated the death
of the earl of Lenox and the lord Darnley ; and while
the queen was on the road to Calendar place to visit the
lord Livingston, they proposed to intercept her and to
hold her in captivity. In this state of her humiliation,
Murray was to advance himself to the government of
the kingdom, under the character of its regent. But
Mary having received intelligence of their conspiracy,
the earl of Athol and the lord Ruthven suddenly raised
300 men to protect her in her journey. Defeated in
this scheme, the earl of Murray aud his associates did
not relinquish their cabals. They projected new a-
chievements; and the nation was filled with alarms,
suspicions, and terror. C72
Amidst the arts employed by the Scottish malcon-Dhturban-
tents to inflame the animosities of the nation, they for-^J^p^
got not to insist on the dangers which threatened the^uutSi
Protestant religion from the advancement of Lord Darn¬
ley, and from the rupture that must ensue with Eng¬
land. Letters were everywhere dispersed among the
faithful, reminding them of what the eternal God had
wrought for them in the abolition of idolatry, and ad¬
monishing
SCOTLAND.
711
I (land, monishing them to oppose the restoration of the mass.
^ "v 'A supplication was presented to the queen, complaining
of idolaters, and insisting on their punishment. In the
present juncture of affairs it was received with unusual
respect; and Mary instructed the Popish ecclesiastics to
abstain from giving offence of any kind to the Protes¬
tants. A priest, however, having celebrated the mass,
was taken by the brethren, and exposed to the insults
and fury of the populace at the market-place of Edin¬
burgh, in the garments of his profession, and with the
chalice in his hand ; and the queen having given a
check to this tumultuous proceeding, the Protestants,
rising in their wrath, were the more confirmed in the
belief that she meant to overthrow their religion. The
most learned and able of the clergy held frequent con¬
sultations together; and while the nation was disturbed
with dangerous ferments, the general assembly was call¬
ed to deliberate on the affairs of the church. Their
hope of success being proportioned to the difficulties in
the situation of the queen, they were the less scrupu¬
lous in forming their resolutions ; and the commission¬
ers, whom they deputed to her, were ordered to de-
mand a parliamentary ratification of their desires.
Tt de- They insisted, that the mass, with every remnant of
11121 s- popery, should be universally suppressed throughout the
kingdom ; that in this reformation, the queen’s person
and household should be included ; and that all Papists
and idolaters should be punished on conviction, accord¬
ing to the laws. They contended, that persons of every
description and degree should resort to the churches on
Sunday, to join in prayers, and to attend to exhortations
and sermons ; that an independent provision should be
assigned for the support of the present clergy, and for
their successors; that all vacant benefices should be con¬
ferred on persons found qualified for the ministry, on
the trial and examination of the superintendants ; that
no bishopric, abbey, priory, deanery, or other living,
having many churches, should be bestowed on a single
person; but that, the plurality of the foundation being
dissolved, each church should be provided with a mini¬
ster ; that glebes and manses should be allotted for the
residence of the ministers, and for the reparation of
churches; that no charge in schools or universities, and
no care of education, either public or private, should be
intrusted to any person who was not able and sound in
doctrine, and who was not approved by the superintend¬
ants ; that all lands which had formerly been devoted
to hospitality, should again be made subservient to it;
that the lands and rents which formerly belonged to
the monks of every order, with the annuities, altarages,
obits, and the other emoluments which had appertained
to priests, should be employed in the maintenance of
the poor and the upholding of schools ; that all horrible
crimes, such as idolatry, blasphemy, breaking of the
sabbath, witchcraft, sorcery, inchantment, adultery,
manifest whoredom, the keeping of brothels, murder,
and oppression, should be punished with severity ; that
judges should be appointed in every district, with pow¬
ers to pronounce sentences and to execute them ; and,
in fine, that for the ease of the labouring husbandmen,
some order should be devised concerning a reasonable
1 4 payment of the tythes.
Sj, Ta_ To these requisitions, the queen made an answer full
io >f the of moderation and humanity. She was ready to agree
lui. with the three estates in establishing the reformed reli¬
gion over the subjects of Scotland; and she was steadily Scotland,
resolved not to hazard the life, the peace, or the fortune, -v--—'
of any person whatever on account of his opinions. As
to herself and her household, she was persuaded that her
people would not urge her to adopt tenets in contradic¬
tion to her own conscience, and thereby involve her in
remorse and uneasiness. She had been educated and
brought up in the Romish faith ; she conceived it to be
founded on the word of God; and she was desirous to
continue in it. But, setting aside her belief and religi-
'ous duty, she ventured to assure them, that she was con¬
vinced from political reasons, that it -was her interest to
maintain herself firm in the Catholic persuasion. By de¬
parting from it, she would forfeit the amity of the king of
France, and that of other princes who were now strong¬
ly attached to her; and their disaffection could not be
repaired or compensated by any new alliance. To her
subjects she left the fullest liberty of conscience ; and
they could not surely refuse to their sovereign the same
right and indulgence. With regard to the patronage of
benefices, it was a prerogative and property which it
would ill become her to violate. Her necessities, and
the charge of her royal dignity, required her to retain
in her hands the patrimony of the crown. After the
purposes, however, of her station, and the exigencies
of government, were satisfied, she could not object to
a special assignment of revenue for the maintenance of
the ministry ; and, on the subject of the other articles
which had been submitted to her, she was willing to
be directed by the three estates of the kingdom, and
to concur in the resolutions which should appear to
them most reasonable and expedient. 675
The clergy, in anew assembly or convention, expres- The Prote-
sed great displeasure with this return to their address, stants are
They took the liberty of informing the queen, that the^P1™*6®'
doctrines of the reformation which she refused to adopt, answer.
were the religion which had been revealed by Jesus
Christ, and taught by his apostles. Popery was of all
persuasions the least alluring, and had the fewest recom¬
mendations. In antiquity, consent of people, authority
of princes, and number of proselytes, it was plainly in¬
ferior to Judaism. It did not even rest on a founda¬
tion so solid as the doctrines of the Koran. They re¬
quired her, therefore, in the name of the eternal God,
to embrace the means of attaining the truth, which
were offered to her in the preaching of the word, or
by the appointment of public disputations between them
and their adversaries. The terrors of the mass were
placed before her in all their deformity. The performer
of it, the action itself, and the opinions expressed in it,
were all pronounced to be equally abominable. To
hear the mass, or to gaze on it, was to commit the
complicated crimes of sacrilege, blasphemy, and idolatry.
Her delicacy in not renouncing her opinions from the
apprehension of offending the king ol France and her
other allies, they ridiculed as impertinent in the highest
degree. They told her, that the true religion of Christ
was the only means by which any confederacy could en¬
dure ; and that it was far more precious than the al¬
liance of any potentate whatever, as it would bring to
her the friendship of the King of kings. As to patro¬
nages, being a portion of her patrimony, they intend¬
ed not to defraud her of her rights : but it was their
judgment, that the superintendants ought to make a
trial of the qualifications of candidates for the ministry;
712
S C 0 T I, A N D.
Scotland. and a5 |t vras the duty of the patron to present a person
' v—J to the benefice, it was the business of the church to
manage his institution or collation. For without this
restraint, there would be no security for the fitness of
the incumbent; and if no trials or examinations of mi¬
nisters took place, the church would be filled with mis¬
rule and ignorance. Nor was it right or just that her
majesty should retain any part of the revenue of bene¬
fices ; as it ought to be all employed for the uses of the
clergy, for the purposes of education, and for the sup¬
port of the poor. And as to her opinion, that a suitable
assignment should be made for them, they could not but
thank her with reverence : but they begged leave to
solicit and importune her to condescend on the parti¬
culars of a proper scheme for this end, and to carry
it into execution ; and that, taking into due considera¬
tion the other articles of their demands, she would
study to comply with them, and to do justice to the
676 religious establishment of her people.
They rise From the fears of the people about their religion,
m arms, disturbances and insurrections were unavoidable ; and
soon quell- be^ore Mary had given her answer to the petitions or
ed. address of the clergy, the Protestants, in a formidable
number, had marched to St Leonard’s Craig ; and, di¬
viding shemselves into companies, had chosen captains
to command them. But the leaders of this tumult be¬
ing apprehended and committed to close custody, it
subsided by degrees; and thequeen, on the intercession
of the magistrates of Edinburgh, instead of bringing
them to trial, gave them a free pardon. To quiet, at
the same time, the apprehensions which had gone a~
broad, and to controvert the insidious reports which
had been industriously spread of her inclination to
overturn the reformed doctrines, she repeatedly issued
proclamations, assuring her subjects that it was her
fixed determination not to molest or disturb any person
whatever on account of his religion or conscience ; and
that she had never presumed even to think of any in¬
novation that might endanger the tranquillity or pre-
677 judice the happiness of the commonwealth.
Intrigues While Mary was conducting her affairs with discern-
ol the re- ment an(j ability, the earl of Murray and his confede-
bles with rates continued their consultations and intrigues. Alter
Elizabeth, theirdisappointment in the conspiracy against thequeen
and the lord Darnley, they perceived that their only hope
of success or security depended on Elizabeth; and as
Randolph had promised them her protection and assist¬
ance, they scrupled not to address a letter to her, ex¬
plaining their views and situation. The pretences of
their hostility to their sovereign which they affected to
insist on, were her settled design of overturning the Pro¬
testant religion, and her rooted desire to break off all
correspondence and amity with England. To prevent
;the accomplishment of these purposes, they said, was the
object of their confederacy ; and with her support and
aid they did not doubt of being able effectually to ad¬
vance the emolument and advantage of the two kingr
doms. In the present state of their affairs, they applied
not, however, for any supply of troops. An aid from
her treasury only was now necessary to them; and they
engaged to bestow her bounty in the manner most
agreeable to her inclinations and her interests. The
pleasure with which Elizabeth received their applica¬
tions was equal to the aversion she had conceived against
the queen of Scots, She not only granted them the re-
‘l
lief they requested, hut assured them by Randolph of Scotland,
her esteem and favour while the} should continue to up- '■—■'v—'
hold the reformed religion and the connexion of the
two nations. Flattered by her assurances and generosi¬
ty, they were strenuous to gain partisans, and to disu¬
nite the friends of their sovereign; and while they were
secretly preparing for rebellion, and for trying their
strength in the field they disseminated among the peo¬
ple the tenets, That a Papist could not legally be their
king ; that the queen was not at liberty of herself to
make the choice of a husband ; and that, in a matter
so weighty, she ought to be entirely directed by the
determination of the three estates assembled in par¬
liament. 678
Elizabeth, at the same time, carrying her dissimu-
lation to the most criminal extremity, commanded Ran-
dolph to ask an audience of Mary ; and to counsel her
to nourish no suspicions of the earl of Murray and his
friends ; to open her eyes to their sincerity and honour;
and to call to mind, that as their services had hitherto
preserved her kingdom in repose, her jealousies of them
might kindle it into combustion, make the blood of her
nobles flow, and hazard her person and her crown. Full
of astonishment at a message so rude and improper, the
queen of Scots desired him to inform his mistress, that
she required not her instructions to distinguish between
patriotism and treachery ; that she was fully sensible
when her will or purpose was resisted or obeyed; and that
she possessed a power which was more than sufficient to
repress and to punish the enormities and the crimes of
her subjects. The English resident went now to the earl
of Lenox, and the lord Darnley, and charged them to
return to England. The former expressed an appre¬
hension of the severity of his queen, and sought an as¬
surance of her favour before he could venture to visit
her dominions. The latter, exerting greater fortitude,
told him, that he acknowledged no duty or obedience
but to the queen of Scots. The resident treating this
answer as disrespectful to Elizabeth, turned his back
upon the lord Darnley, and retired without making
any reverence, or bidding him adieu.
The behaviour of Elizabeth, so fierce and so perfidi¬
ous, was well calculated to confirm all the intentions of
Mary; and this, doubtless, was one of the motives by
which she was actuated. But while the queen of Scots
was eager to accomplish her marriage, she was not in¬
attentive to the rising troubles of her country. The par¬
liament which she had appointed could not now be held;
it was therefore prorogued to a more distant period; and
the violence of the times did not then permit it to as¬
semble. By letters she invited to her, with all their re¬
tainers, the most powerful and most eminent ofher sub¬
jects. Bothwel was again recalled from France ; and
by general proclamation she summoned to her standard
the united force of her kingdom. The castle of Edin¬
burgh was likewise amply provided with stores and am¬
munition, that, in the event of misfortunes, it might
afford her a retreat and defence. The alacrity with
which her subjects flocked to her from every quarter,
informed her ofher power and popularity ; and while
it struck Murray and his adherents with the danger
to which they were exposed, it declared to them the
opinion entertained by the nation of the iniquity and
the selfkhness of their proceedings.
On the 29th of July 1565, the ceremony of mar¬
riage
cotland.
680
? is pro-
imed
ig of
Jtland.
SCOT
riage between the queen and Lord Darnley was perform¬
ed. Ihe latter had been previously created duke of
Albany, 'i he day before the marriage, a proclamation
was published, commanding him to be styled king of the
h Lord realm, and that all letters after their marriage should be
jnley. directed in the names of her husband and herself. The
day after it, a new proclamation was issued confirming
this act: he was pronounced king by the sound of
trumpets, and associated with the queen in her govern¬
ment. This measure seems to have been the effect of
the extreme love the queen had for her husband, which
did not permit her to see that it was an infringement of
the constitution of the kingdom ; though perhaps she
might also be urged to it by the pressing eagerness of
Lord Darnley himself, and the partial counsels of David
Rizzio. The earl of Murray made loud complaints, re¬
monstrated, that a king was imposed on the nation with¬
out the consent of the three estates, and called on the
nation to arm against the beginnings of tyranny. The
maiecontents accordingly were immediately in arms;
but their success was not answerable to their wishes.
The bulk of the nation were satisfied with the good in¬
tentions of their sovereign, and she herself took the ear¬
liest opportunity of crushing the rebellion in its infancy.
The earl of Murray was declared a traitor; and similar
e rebel- steps were taken with other chiefs of the rebels. She
is nobles then took the field against them at the head of a consi-
^aiicf10 ^era^^e army; and having driven them from one place
to another, obliged them at last to take refuge in Eng¬
land. Queen Elizabeth received them with that du¬
plicity for which her conduct was so remarkable.
Though she herself had countenanced, and even excited
them to revolt, she refused to give an audience to their
deputies. Nay, she even caused them to issue a public
declaration, that neither she, nor any person in her
name, had ever excited them to their rebellious prac¬
tices. Yet, while the public behaviour of Elizabeth
was so acrimonious, she afforded them a secure retreat
in her kingdom, treated the earl of Murray in private
with respect and kindness, and commanded the earl of
Bedford to supply him with money. Mary, however,
resolved to proceed against the rebels with an exem¬
plary rigour. The submissions of the duke of Chatel-
herault alone, who had been less criminal than the rest,
were attended to. But even the favour which he ob¬
tained was precarious and uncertain; for he was com-
LAND.
713
681
manded to use the pretence of sickness, and to pass Scotland.
for some time into foreign countries. A parliament v—~J
was called ; and a summons of treason being executed
against the earls of Argyle, Glencairn, and Rothes,
with others of the principal i*ebels, they were command¬
ed to appear before the three estates; in default of
which their lives and estates were declared forfeited.
In the mean time Throgmorton the English ambas¬
sador solicited the pardon of the rebels; which Mary ^
was at first inclined to grant. By the persuasion of the Mary ac-
court of ITance, however, she was not only induced to cedes to the
proceed against them with rigour, but acceded to the treaty of
treaty of Bayonne, by which the destruction of the I,ayonne‘
Protestants was determined. This measure filled the
whole court with terror and dismay. The rebels were
acquainted with the danger of their situation; and being
now rendered desperate, they were ready to engage in
the most atrocious designs. Unhappily, the situation of
affairs in Scotland rendered the accomplishment of their 685
purposes but too easy. Violent disgusts had taken place Quarrels
between the queen and her husband. Her fondness had between
been excessive; but she soon perceived that the qualitiesth ^<jj,eC11
ofhis mind were not proportioned to his personal accom -
plishments. He was proud, disdainful, and suspicious.
No persuasions could correct his obstinacy; and he was
at the same time giddy and obstinate, insolent and mean.
The queen in consequence began to show an indifference
towards him; which he took care to augment, by show¬
ing the like indifference towards her, and engaging in
low intrigues and amours, indulging himself in dissipa¬
tion and riot, &c. The desire of dominion was his ruling
passion however ; and the queen, finding his total in¬
capacity for exercising his power to any good purpose,
had excluded him from it altogether. He was therefore
at present a proper object for the machinations of the
rebels, and readily entered into an agreement with them
to depose the queen; vainly thinking by that means to
secure the crown to himself. As the parliament was
soon to assemble, in which the rebels had every reason
to believe that they would be condemned for high trea¬
son, it was necessary that the kingdom should be thrown
into disorder before that time, otherwise their fate was 6S4
inevitable. Practising on the imbecility of Darnley, The king
they persuaded him that a criminal correspondence sub- conspires
sisted between the queen and David Rizzio (n). ^'or tloii of dT
this reason the king resolved on his destruction; and the vid i{jzzjo,"
conspirators with the
rebellious
——  nobles.
An. 1566.
(r) That there subsisted a criminal intercourse between Mary and Rizzio is a scandal which is now given up
by her enemies. It seems to rest on the authority of Buchanan and Knox ; and their evidence in this case is
clearly of no weight, not only from their being the strenuous partisans of her adversaries, but from the multi¬
tude of falsehoods which they anxiously detail to calumniate her. The love she felt for Darnley was extreme,
and their acquaintance commenced a month or two after the appointment of Rizzio to be her secretary lor
French affairs. She became pregnant soon after her marriage ; and it was during her pregnancy that Rizzio
was assassinated. These are striking presumptions in her favour. And w hat seems to put her innocence out
of all question, is the silence of the spies and residents of Elizabeth w ith regard to this pretended amour ; for,
if there had been any thing real in it, they could not have made their court to their queen more effectually than
by declaring to her its particulars; and their want of delicacy, so observable in other circumstances, wrould
have induced them on this occasion to give the greatest foulness and deformity to their information.
It appears that Rizzio was ill-favoured, and of a disagreeable form. Buchanan says of him, “ Non faciem
cultus honestabat, sed facies cultum destruebat. ” Hist. Scot. lib. xvii. This expression is very strong ; but it
would have little weight if other authors had not concurred in giving a similar description of Rizzio. In a
book intitled, “ Le Livre de la Morte de la Reyne d’Ecosse, ” and printed in the year 158/, he is said to be
“ disgracie de corps. ’ Caussin, ap. Jebb, p. 37. This work, too, while it records the unkindness of nature to
Vol. XVIII. Part IT. 3 f * X his
SCOTLAND.
714
Scotland, conspirators hoped thus not only to get an indemnity to
"v-’-'' themselves, but to effect a total revolution at court, and
the entire humiliation of Bothwel, Huntly, and Athol,
who were the associates of Rizzio. In order to save
themselves, however, they engaged the king to sub¬
scribe a bond, affirming that the project of assassinat¬
ing Rizzio was altogether of his own devising; acknow¬
ledging that he had solicited them to take a part in it,
from the apprehensions that resistance might be made
to him ; and agreeing, on the word and honour of a
prince, to protect and secure them against every ha¬
zard and injury to which they might be exposed from
the achievement of his enterprise. Having procured
this security, and having allured the earl of Lennox
the king's father to approve of their measures, they
adjusted the method of the projected murder; and de¬
spatched a messenger to the English frontier, adver¬
tising the earl of Murray and the rebels of their intcn-
685 tions, and inviting them to return to the court.
lijzzio On the 9th of March, about seven o’clock in the
murdered. evening> armed men, to the number of 500, surrounded
the palace of Holyroodhouse. The earl of Morton
and the lord Lindsay entered the court of the palace,
with 160 persons. The queen was in her chamber at
supper, having in her company her natural sister the
countess of Argyle, her natural brother Robert, com-
mendator of Holyroodhouse, Beton of Creich master of
the household, Arthur Erskine, and David Rizzio.
The king entering the apartment, seated himself by her
side. He was followed by the lord Ruthven, who be¬
ing wasted with sickness, and cased in armour, exhibit¬
ed an appearance that was hideous and terrible. Four
ruffians attended him. In a hollow voice he command¬
ed Rizzio to leave a place which did not become him.
The queen, in astonishment and consternation, applied
to the king to unfold to her this mysterious enterprise.
He affected ignorance. She ordered Ruthven from her
presence, under the penalty of treason; declaring at the
same time, that if Rizzio had committed any crime, she
would produce him before the parliament, and punish
him according to the laws. Ruthven drawing his dag¬
ger, advanced towards Rizzio. The queen rose to make
an exertion of her authority. The unfortunate stranger
laid hold of her garments, crying out for justice and
mercy. Other conspirators, rushing into the chamber,
overturned the table, and increased the dismay and
confusion. Loaded pistols were presented to the bo¬
som of the queen. The king held her in his arms.
George Douglas, snatching the dagger of his sovereign,
plunged it into the body of Rizzio. The wounded and
screaming victim was dragged into the antichamber;
and so eager were the assassins to complete their work,
that he was torn and mangled with 56 wounds.
While the queen was pressing the king to satisfy her
inquiries into the meaning of a deed so execrable, Ruth¬
ven returned into their presence. She gave a full vent Scotland,
to indignation and reproach. Ruthven, with an into- —-v—-j
lerable coldness and deliberation, informed her, that
Rizzio had been put to death by the counsel of her hus¬
band, whom he had dishonoured ; and that by the per¬
suasion of this minion she had refused the crown-matri¬
monial to the king, had engaged to re-establish the an¬
cient religion, had resolved to punish the earl of Mur¬
ray and his friends, and had entrusted her confidence
to Bothwel and Huntly, who were traitors. The king,
taking the part of Ruthven, remonstrated against her
proceedings, and complained that from the time of her
familiarity with Rizzio, she had neither regarded, nor
entertained, nor trusted him. His suspicions and in¬
gratitude shocked and tortured her. His connexion
with the conspirators gave her an ominous anxiety.
Apprehensions of outrages still more atrocious invaded
her. In these agitated and miserable moments she did
not lose herself in the helplessness of sorrow. The
loftiness of her spirit communicated relief to her ; and
wiping away her tears, she exclaimed, that it was not
now a season for lamentation, but for revenge.
The earls of Huntly, Bothwel, and Athol, the lords
Fleming and Levingston, and Sir James Balfour, who
were obnoxious to the conspirators, and at this time in
the palace, found all resistance vain. Some of them
eluding the vigilance of Morton, made their escape ;
and others were allowed to retire. The provost and
magistrates of Edinburgh getting intelligence of the GS6
tumult, ordered the alarm bell to be rung. The citi- The queen
zens, apprehensive and anxious, approached in crowds confined
to inquire into the welfare of their sovereign ; but she ^yiircat'
was not permitted to address herself to them. The
conspirators told her, that if she presumed to make
any harangue, they would “ cut her in pieces, and cast
her over the walls. ” The king called to the people
that she was well, and commanded them to disperse.
The queen was shut up in her chamber, uncertain of
her fate, and without the consolation or attendance of
her women.
In the morning a proclamation was issued by the
king, without the knowledge of his queen, prohibiting
the meeting of parliament, and ordering the members
to retire from the city. The rebellious lords now re¬
turned from England, and arrived at Edinburgh with- cg7
in 21* hours after the assassination of Rizio. The She endea-
queen, knowing of how much consequence it was for voursin
her to gain the earl of Murray, invited him to wait
on her. Notwithstanding the extreme provocation j\iulfay;
which she had met with, Mary so far commanded her
passions, that she gave him a favourable reception.
After informing him of the rudeness and severity of
the treatment she Jjad received, the queen observed,
that if he had remained in friendship with her at home,
he would have protected her against such excesses of
hardship
his person, has observed, that he was in his old age when he made a figure in the court of Mary. “ Elle trait-
toit ordinairement avec David Riccio son secretaire, homme age et prudent, qui posscdoit son oreille. ” Ibid.
And other authors give their testimonies to the same purpose.
It is probable that the panegyrists of Mary exaggerate somewhat the imperfections as well as the good qua¬
lities of Rizzio. But there seems in general to be no reason to doubt his fidelity and talents, any more than
his ugliness and senility. He had therefore a better title to be her secretary than her lover. It is an absur¬
dity to think that a queen so young and beautiful would yield herself to deformity and old age.
S C O T
cotland. havdsliip and insult. Murray, witli a hypocritical com-
—v 'passion, shed abundance of tears; while the queen
seemed to entertain no doubt of his sincerity, but t^ave
him room to hope for a full pardon of all his offences.
In the mean time, however, the conspirators held fre¬
quent consultations together, and in these it was de¬
bated, whether they should hold the queen in perpe¬
tual captivity, or put her to death; or whether they
should content themselves with committing her to close
custody in Stirling castle till they should obtain a par¬
liamentary sanction to their proceedings, establish the
Protestant religion by the total overthrow of the mass,
and invest the king with the crown-matrimonial and
G88 the government of the kingdom.
itpre- Mary now began to perceive the full extent of her
kin"to wretchedness; and therefore, as her last resource, ap-
'ndoTi plied to the king, whom she treated with all those blan-
> cause disbmcnts usually employed by the fair sex when they
the con- Want to gain the ascendency over the other. The
Itrators; who, with all his faults, had a natural facility of
temper, was easily gained over. The conspirators were
alarmed at his coldness,and endeavoured to fill his mind
with fears concerning the duplicity of his wife : but,
finding they could not gain their point, they at last be¬
gan to treat for an accommodation. The king brought
them a message, importing, that Mary was disposed to
bury in oblivion all memory of their transgressions;
and he offered to conduct them into her presence. The
earls of Murray and Morton, with the lord Ruthven,
attended him into her presence; and, falling on their
knees before the queen, made their apologies and sub¬
missions. She commanded them to rise; and having
desired them to recollect her abhorrence of cruelty and
rapacity, she assured them with a gracious air, that in¬
stead of designing to forfeit their lives, and possess her¬
self of their estates, she was inclined to receive them
into favour, and to grant a full pardon, not only to the
nobles who had come from England, but to those who
had assassinated David Rizzio. They7 were according¬
ly ordered to prepare the bonds for their security and
forgiveness, which the queen promised to take the ear¬
liest opportunity of subscribing; but in the mean time
the king observed, that the conspirators ought to re-
689 move the guards which they had placed around the
d escapes queen, that all suspicion of restraint might be remov-
Jinthem. ecL This measure could not with any propriety he
opposed, and the guards were therefore dismissed ; on
which the queen, that very night, left her palace at
midnight, and took the road to Dunbar, accompanied
by the king and a few attendants.
The news of the queen’s escape threw the conspira¬
tors into the utmost consternation ; and she immediate¬
ly issued proclamations for her subjects to attend her
in arms, and was powerfully supported. They sent
therefore the lord Semple, requesting, with the utmost
humility, her subscription to their deeds of pardon and
security; but to this message she returned an unfa¬
vourable answer, and advanced towards Edinburgh
with an army of 8000 men. The conspirators now fled
690 with the utmost precipitation. Even John Knox re-
herebel- tired to Kyle till the storm should blow over. On the
xTdecl Squeen s arl'va* at Edinburgh, a privy council was in-
d traitors.stantly called, in which the conspirators were charged
to appear as guilty of murder and treason ; their places
of strength were ordered to be surrendered to the ofli-
L A N D. 715
cers of the crown ; and their estates and possessions Scotland,
were made liable to confiscation and forfeiture. v—
But while the queen was thus eager to punish the
conspirators, she was sensible that so many of the no¬
bility, by uniting in a common cause, might raise a
powerful party in opposkion to her; for which reason
she endeavoured to detach the earl of Murray from the
rest, by making him offers of pardon. Sir James Mel-
vil accordingly pledged himself to produce his pardon
and that of his adherents, if he would separate from
Morton and the conspirators. He accordingly became
cold and distant to them, and exclaimed against the
murder as amostexecrableaction; hut notwithstanding
his affected anger, when the conspirators fled to Eng¬
land, he furnished them with letters of recommendation
to the earl of Bedford. After the flight of the conspi- Shameful
rators, the king thought it necessary for him to deny Prevarica-
his having any share in the action. He therefore l*ie
braced an opportunity of declaring to the privy council
his total ignorance of the conspiracy against Rizzio■;
and not satisfied with this, he, by public proclamations
at the market-place of the capital, and over the whole
kingdom, protested to the people at large that he had
never bestowed on it, in any degree, the sanction of
his command, consent, assistance, or approbation. 692
In the mean time, the queen granted a full and am-
pie pardon to the earls of .Murray, Argyle, Glencairn,ot‘hers of
and Rothes, and their adherents; but towards the con the rebels
spirators she remained inexorable. This lenity, toare pankn-
Murray especially, proved a source of the greatested*
inquietude to the queen ; for this nobleman, blind to
every motive of action distinct from his own ambition,
began to contrive new plots, which, though disappoint¬
ed for a time, soon operated to the destruction of the
queen, and almost to the ruin of the nation. 695
On the 19th of June 1566, the queen was delivered
of a prince, who received the name of James. This19tll june’
happy event, however, did not extinguish the quarrel 1566.
betwixt her and the king. His de: ire to intrude himself
into her authority, and to fix a stain on her honour,
his share in the murder of Rizzio, and his extreme
meanness in publicly denying it, could not fail to im-
press her with the strongest sentiments of detestationand
contempt. Unable, however, totally to divest herself of
regard for him, her behaviour, though cold and distant, 694
was yet decent and respectful. Castelnau, at this time
ambassador extraordinary from France, conceived thatt;OB
a reconciliation might be effected, and employed him-tween the
self for some time in this friendly office. Nor were his king and
endeavours altogether ineffectual. The king and queen*!116611-
spent two nights together; and proceeded, in company
with each other, to Meggatland in Tweeddale, in order
to enjoy the diversion of the chase, attended by the
earls of Huntly, Bothwel, Murray, and other nobles.
Thence they passed to Edinburgh, and then took ^ie yviddfis
road to Stirling. Had the king been endowed withbrokun off
any prudence, he would have made the best use of this by the
opportunity to regain the affections of his queen ; butting’s im-
instead of this, finding that he was not immediately in-P™^6!1^
trusted with power, his peevishness suggested to him the 1
design of going abroad. To Monsieur du Croc, the
French resident, who had attended Mary at Stirling,
he ventured to communicate his chimerical project.
This statesman represented to him its wildness and in-
efficacy; and could scarcely believe that he was seri-
4X2 ous,
716 SCO T L A N D.
Scotland, qus. To his father the earl of Lenox, who paid him
—v—— a visit at this place immediately on Mary’s departure
from it, he likewise communicated his intention ; and
all the intreaties, arguments, and remonstrances of this
nobleman to make him relinquish his design, were with¬
out success. He provided a vessel, and kept it in
readiness to carry him from Scotland. The earl of
Lenox, after returning to Glasgow, where he usually
resided, gave way to his paternal anxieties, and solicited
the queen by letter to interfere with her authority and
persuasions ; and on the evening of the day in which
she received this despatch, the king alighted at Holy-
roodhouse. But the names of the nobles who were
with the queen being announced to him, he objected
to three of them, and insisted that they should be or¬
dered to depart, before he would enter within the
gates of the palace. The queen, alarmed with a de¬
meanour so rude and so unwarrantable, condescended to
leave her company and her palace to meet him; and it
was with great difficulty that she was able to entice him
into her own apartment. There he remained with her
during the night. She communicated to him his fa¬
ther’s letter, and employed every art and blandishment
to engage him to abandon his perverse design. But he
gave her no satisfaction. He was unmoved by her
kindness ; and his silence, dejection, and peevishness,
augmented her distress. In the morning, she called her
privy council to assemble in the palace, and invited to
her Monsieur du Croc the French envoy. By the bi¬
shop of Boss she explained the intention of the king,
and made known the despatch of the earl of Lenox.
The privy council were urgent to know the reasons of
a voyage that appeared to them so inexplicable; and
earnestly pressed the king to unbosom himself. If his
resolution proceeded from discontent, and if there were
persons in the kingdom who had given him causes of
offence, they assured him, that they were ready, upon
his information, to take the necessary steps to make
him easy and happy. No quality or rank should ex¬
empt those from enquiry and punishment who had
committed misdemeanors against him. This, they
said, consisted with his honour, with the honour of
the queen, and with their own. If, however, he had
received no sufficient provocation to justify his beha¬
viour, and if he had no title to complain of actual in¬
juries, they admonished him to remember, that his
Ilight from a queen so beautiful, and from a kingdom
so ancient and noble, would expose him to the great¬
est ridicule and disgrace. They pointed out the hap¬
piness of his fortune, and counselled him not to part
lightly with all its flattering advantages. The queen
herself, taking his hand into her’s, and pressing it with
affection, besought him to say by what act or deed she
had unfortunately induced him to conceive so fatal a
purpose. Her memory did not reproach her with any
crime or indiscretion which affected his honour or her
integrity; yet if, without any design on her part, she
had incurred his displeasure, she was disposed to atone
for it; and she begged him to speak with entire free¬
dom, and not in any degree to spare her. Monsieur
du Croc then addressed him, and employed his inte¬
rest and persuasions to make him reveal his inquietudes.
But all this respectful attention and ceremonious duty
were ineffectual. Obstinately froward, he refused to
confess that he intended any voyage, and made no men¬
tion of any reasons of discontent. He yet acknowledg- Scotland.
ed with readiness, that he could not with justice ac-‘ v—J
cuse the queen of any injury or offence. Oppressed
with uneasiness and perturbation,he prepared to retire;
and, turning to her, said, “ Adieu, Madam ! you shall
not see me for a long time. ” Fie then bowed to the
French envoy, and to the lords of the privy council.
He hastened back to Stirling, leaving the queen and
her council in surprise and astonishment. They resolv¬
ed to watch his motions with anxiety, and could not
conjecture what step he would take. Mary, to prevent
the effect of rumours to her disadvantage, despatched
a courier to advertise the king of France and the queen-
mother of his conduct. It was not possible that a
prince so meanly endowed with ability could make any
impression on her allies. Nor did it appear to be in
his power to excite any domestic insurrection or dis¬
turbance. He was universally odious; and, at this
time, the queen was in the highest estimation with the
great body of her subjects. After passing some days
at Stirling, he addressed a letter to the queen,in which,
after hinting at his design of going abroad, he insinuat¬
ed his reasons of complaint. He was not trusted by her
with authority, and she was no longer studious to ad¬
vance him to honour. Fie was without attendants;
and the nobility had deserted him. Her answer was
sensible and temperate. She called to his remembrance
the distinctions she had conferred on him, the uses to
which he had put the credit and reputation accruing
from them, and the heinous offences he had encouraged
in her subjects. Though the plotters against Rizzio
had represented him as the leader of their enterprise,
she had yet abstained from any accusation of him, and
had even behaved as if she believed not his participa¬
tion in the guilt of that project. As to the defects of
his retinue, she had uniformly offered him the attend¬
ance of her own servants. As to the nobility, they
were the supports of the throne, and independent of
it. Their countenance was not to be commanded but
won. He had discovered too much stateliness towards
them; and they were the proper judges of the deport¬
ment that became them. If he wished for consequence,
it was his duty to pay them court and attention ; and
whenever he should procure and conciliate their re¬
gard and commendation, she would be happy to give
him all the importance that belonged to him.
In the mean time, the earls of Murray and Bothwel
were industriously striving to widen the breach be¬
tween the king and queen, and at the same time to
foment the division between the king and his nobles.
The earl of Morton excited disturbances on the bor¬
ders ; and as no settled peace had taken place there
since Mary’s marriage, there was the greatest reason
to believe that he would succeed in his attempts. Pro¬
clamations were therefore issued by the queen to call
her subjects to arms; and she proceeded to Jedburgh to
hold justice-courts3and topunish traitors anddisorderly 6gg
persons. In the course of this journey she was taken Mary falls
dangerously ill; insomuch that, believing her death tos'ck> blIt
be at hand, she called for the bishop of Ross, tellingrccoverSl
him to bear witness that she had persevered in that reli¬
gion in which she had been nourished and brought up ;
taking the promise of her nobles, that after her death
they would open her last will and testament, and pay to
it that respect which consisted with the laws, recom¬
mending
SCOTLAND.
otlaml mending to them the rights or her infant son, and the
1 “v charge of educating him in such a manner as might en¬
able him to rule the kingdom of his ancestors with ho¬
nour ; and intreating them to abstain from all cruelty
and persecution of her Catholic subjects. Nothwith-
standing her apprehensions, however, and the extreme
violence of her distemper, the queen at last recovered
perfect health. As soon as she was able to travel,
she visited Kelso, Werk castle, Hume, Langton, and
Wedderburn. The licentious borderers, on the first
news of her recovery, laid down their arms. Being
desirous to take a view of Berwick, the queen advanced
to it with an attendance of 1000 horse. Sir John
Forster, the deputy warden of the English marches,
came forth with a numerous retinue, and conducted her
to the most proper station for surveying it, and paid her
all the honours in his power, b}7 a full discharge of the
artillery, and other demonstrations of joy. Continu¬
ing her journey, she passed to Eyemouth, Dunbar, and
Tantallon; proceeding thence to Craigmillar castle,
where she proposed to remain till the time of the bap¬
tism of the prince, which was soon to be celebrated at
697 Stirling.
1 dnd- During the severe sickness of the queen, her hus-
i i of the band kept himself at a distance: but when she was so
1 '• far recovered as to be out of danger, he made his ap¬
pearance ; and being received with some coldness and
formality, he retired suddenly to Stirling. This cruel
neglect was a most sensible mortification to her; and
while she suffered from his ingratitude and haughtiness,
she was not without suspicion that he was attempting
to disturb the tranquillity of her government. She
was seized with a settled melancholy; and, in her an¬
guish, often wished for death to put a period to her ex¬
istence. Her nobles, who were caballing against her,
remarked her condition, and took advantage of it.
Bothwel, who had already recommended himself by
his services, redoubled his efforts to heighten the fa¬
vour which these services had induced her to conceive
for him. At this time, it is probable, he sought to
gain the affection of the queen, with a view to marry
698 her himself, providing a divorce from her husband
j ivorce COuldbe obtained; and this was now become the subject
1 ropos- consuitatjon by Murray and his associates. After
much deliberation, the queen herself was made acquaint¬
ed with this project; and it was told her, that provided
she would pardon the earl of Morton and his associates,
the means should be found of effecting the divorce.
This was urged as a matter of state by the earls of
Murray, Lethington, Argyle, and Huntly ; and the
queen was invited to consider it as an aftair which
might be managed without any interference on her
part. The queen replied, that she would listen to
them, on condition that the divorce could be obtained
according to law, and that it should not be prejudicial
to her son : but if they meant to effect their purpose by
a disregard to these points, they must think no more of
it; for rather than consent to their views, she would
endure all the torments, and abide by all the perils, to
which her situation exposed her.
Lethington on this, in the name of the rest, engaged
to rid her of her husband, without prejudice to her
son ; words which could not be understood otherwise
than as pointing at murder. Lord Murray (added
he), who is here present, scrupulous as he is, will
717
connive ; and behold our proceedings without open- Scotland,
ing his lips. The queen immediately made answer,
“ I desire that you will do nothing from which any
stain may be fixed upon my honour or conscience ; and
I therefore require the matter to rest as it is, till God
of his goodness send relief: What you think to be
of service to me, may turn out to my displeasure and
harm. ”
It appears, however, that from this moment a plot was
formed by Murray, Bothwel, and Lethington, against
the life of Darnley, and by some of them probably a-
gainst the queen herself; and that Morton, who with the
other conspirators against Rizzio had received a pardon,..
was closely associated with them in their nefarious de¬
signs. That profligate peer was, in his way to Scot¬
land, met at Whittingham by Bothwell and the secre¬
tary. They proposed to him the murder of the king,
and required his assistance, alleging that the queen
herself consented to the deed; to which Morton by his
own account replied, that he was disposed to concur,
provided he were sure of acting under any authority
from her ; but Bothwel and Lethington having return¬
ed to Edinburgh, on purpose to obtain such an autho¬
rity, sent him back a message, That the queen would
not permit any conversation on that matter.
In the mean time, preparations were made for the
baptism of the young prince; to assist at which the
queen left Craigmillar and went to Stirling. The ce¬
remony was performed on the 17th of December 1566.
After the baptismal rites were performed, the name
and titles of the prince were three times proclaimed
by the heralds to the sound of trumpets. He was
called and designed, Charles James, James Charles,
prince and steward of Scotland, duke of Rothesay,
earl of Garrick, lord of the Isles, and baron of Ren¬
frew. Amidst the scenes of joy displayed on this oc¬
casion, the king showed his folly more than he had 69g
ever done. As Elizabeth did not mean to acknowledge Absurd be=.
him in his sovereign capacity, it was consistent neither ,iavio-ur ^
with the dignity of the queen, nor his own, that hethe ms‘
should be present at the baptism. He did not indeed
present himself either at the ceremony or the enter¬
tainments and masquerades with which it was accom¬
panied. At this juncture, however, though he had
often kept at a greater distance before, he took up his
residence at Stirling, as if he meant to offend the queen,
and to expose their quarrels to the world. Du Croc,
who was inclined to be favourable to him, was so struck
with the impropriety of his behaviour, that he affected
to have instructions from France to avoid all intercourse
with him: and when the king proposed to pay him a
visit, he took the liberty of informing him, that there
were two passages in his chamber ; and that if his ma¬
jesty should enter by the one, he should be constrain¬
ed to go out by the other.
While he resided at Stirling, the king confined him-An. 1567.
self chiefly to his chamber. His strange behaviour to
the queen did not give the public any favourable idea
of him ; and as the earl of Murray and his faction took
care to augment the general odium, no court was paid
to him by foreign ambassadors. His situation, there¬
fore, was exceedingly uncomfortable; but though he
must have been conscious of his folly and imprudence,
he did not alter his conduct. In a sullen humour he
left Stirling, and proceeded to Glasgow. Here he fell
sick,
118
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
701
and is mur¬
dered.
702
Attempts
to discover
the mur¬
derers.
sick, with such symptoms as seemed to indicate poison.
He was tormented with violent pains, and his body
was covered over with pustules of a bluish colour; so
that his death was daily expected. Mary did not re¬
pay his coldness to her by negligence. She set out
immediately for Glasgow, and waited on him with all
the assiduity of an affectionate wife, until he recovered :
after which, she returned with him to Edinburgh ; and
as the low situation of the palace of Holyroodhouse
was thought to render it unhealthy, the king was
lodged in a house which had been appointed for the
superior of the church, called St Marys in the Fields.
This house stood on a high ground, and in a salu¬
brious air ; and here she staid with him some days.—
Here the conspirators thought proper to finish their
plot in the most execrable manner. On the 10th of
February 1567, about two o’clock in the morning,
the house where the king resided was blown up by
gunpowder. The explosion alarming the inhabitants,
excited a general curiosity, and brought multitudes to
the place whence it proceeded. The king was found
dead and naked in an adjoining field, with a servant
who used to sleep in the same apartment with him.
On neither was there any mark of fire or other external
injury.
The queen was in the palace of Holyroodhouse, tak¬
ing the diversion of a masked ball, which was given to
honour the marriage of a favourite domestic, when the
news of the king’s death was brought to her. She
showed the utmost grief, and appeared exasperated to
the last degree against the perpetrators of a deed at
once so shocking and barbarous. The most express
and peremptory orders were given to inquire after the
perpetrators by every possible method. A proclama¬
tion was issued by the privy-council, assuring the people,
that the queen and nobility would leave nothing un¬
done to discover the murderers of the king. It offered
the sum of 2000k and an annuity for life, to any per¬
son who should give information of the devisers, coun¬
sellors, and perpetrators of the murder; and it held
out this reward, and the promise of a full pardon, to
the conspirator who should make a free confession of
his own guilt, and that of the confederates. On the
fourth day after this prpclamation was published, a
placard was affixed to the gate of the city prison, af¬
firming that the earl of Bothwel, .Tames Balfour, Da- Scotland,
vid Chalmers, and black John Spence, were the tnur- y—
derers. No name, however, was subscribed to this in¬
telligence, nor was any demand made for the proffered
reward ; so that it was difficult to know whether this
advertisement had been dictated by a spirit of calumny
or the love of justice.
In the mean time, the earl of Murray conducted StrongprJ
himself with his usual circumspection and artifice. On sumption
a pretence that his wife was dangerously sick at his^.^S111!
castle in Fife, he, the day before the murder, obtained
the queen’s permission to pay her a visit. By this means
he proposed to prevent ail suspicion whatever of his
guilt. He was so full, however, of the intended pro¬
ject, that while he was proceeding on his journey, he
observed to the person who accompanied him, “ This
night, before morning, the lord Darnley shall lose
his life. ” When the blow was struck, he returned to
Edinburgh to carry on his practices. Among fo¬
reign nations, the domestic disputes of the queen and
her husband being fully known, it was with the greater
ease that reports could be propagated to her disadvan-
tage. Letters were despatched to France, expressing, H0'acclls,;
in fervent terms, her participation in the murder. Inthequeeal
England, the ministers and courtiers of Elizabeth
could not flatter that princess more agreeably, than
by industriously detracting from the honour and the
virtue of the Scottish queen. Within her own domi¬
nions a similar spirit of outrage exerted itself, and not
without success. As her reconciliation with her hus¬
band could not be unknown to her own subjects, it was
regarded as dissimulation and treachery. The Protes¬
tant clergy, who were her most determined enemies,
possessed a leading direction among the populace ; and
they were the friends and the partizans of the earl of
Murray. Open declamations from the pvdpit were
made against Bothwel, and strong insinuations and bit¬
ing surmises were thrown out against the queen. Pa¬
pers were dispersed, making her a party with Bothwel
in the murder. Every art was employed to provoke
the frenzy of the people. Voices, interrupting the
silence of the night, proclaimed the infamy of Bothwel;
and portraits of the regicides were circulated over the
kingdom, (s)
The queen’s determination, however, to scrutinize
the
(s) In the article Mary Queen of Scotland, we have stated at considerable length the arguments for and against
the participation in the murder of Darnley, of which Mary has been accused. As we have concluded that article
with the arguments brought by one of her ablest accusers, justice and impartiality require that we should
embrace this only opportunity of presenting our readers with the arguments in favour of the queen, brought
forward by her most recent defender Mr Chalmers. “ Mary herself (says Mr Chalmers, Caledonia, vol. i.
p. 850.) seems to have been the only person of any consequence who was unacquainted with a design which
was attended with such mighty consequence ; yet it has been a question of debate, from that age to the
present, whether Mary had been an accomplice in the murder of Darnley her husband. The prejudice
of the late Lord Orford led him to say, that a plea of such length serves rather to confirm than weaken
the evidence for the fact. But, it had been an observation full as just, as well as logical, to have said that,
since the criminations of 240 years have not proved her guilty, she ought to be fairly deemed innocent.
Party has, however, entered into this question, with its usual unfairness ; and it is supposed that she ought
to be presumed to be guilty, rather than innocent; it being more likely that a wife would murder her hus¬
band, and a queen act as an assassin, than that nobles who were accustomed to crimes, should perform this
atrocious action, and cast the offence from themselves on an innocent person. The same inconsistency
Urgttes that, as she was educated in a corrupt court, she must have been corrupt; yet, her sonnet and her sor¬
row for the loss of Francis, her first husband, attested that her heart was yet uncontaminated with corruption ;
and the steadiness with which she adhered to her faith, amidst 20 years persecution, evinces that religion had
its
SCOTLAND.
i cotland. the matter was unabated ; and to the earl of Lenox,
—v—the king’s father, she paid an attention which he could
705 have expected from her only on an emergency of this
ermines kind. Having pressed her by letter to the most diligent
lind out inquiry after the regicides,she returned an answer so com-
| l punish pletely to his wishes, that he was fully convinced of the
mur* sincerity and rigour with which she intended to proceed
ers’ against them : and he urged her to assemble the three
estates, that their advice might direct the order and
manner of their trial. She wrote to him, that an as¬
sembly of the estates was already proclaimed ; and that
it was her earnest and determined will and purpose, that
no step should be neglected that could promote the ad¬
vancement and execution of justice. Yielding to his
anxieties, he addressed her again, intreating that the trial
might not be delayed ; observing, that it was not a
matter of parliamentary inquiry ; advising that it would
be more proper to proceed with the greatest expedition;
and urging her to commit to prison all thg persons who
had been named and described in the papers and pla¬
cards which had been put in the public places of the
city. The queen informed him, that although she had
thought it expedient to call a meeting of parliament
at this juncture, it was not her intention that the pro¬
ceedings against the regicides should be delayed till it
was actually assembled. As to the placards and papers
to which he alluded, they were so numerous and con¬
tradictory, that she could not well determine on which
to act; but if he would condescend to mention the
names which, in his opinion, were most suspicious, she
706 would instantly command that those steps should be
I iiox ac- taken which the laws directed and authorized. He
esseve- named the earl of Bothwel, James Balfour, David Chal-
persons,mers, black John Spence, Francis Sebastian, John de
Burdeaux, and Joseph the brother of David Rizzio; and
assured her majesty, that his suspicions of these persons
719
were weighty and strong. In reply to his information, Scotland.
Mary gave him her solemn promise, that the persons ——'v—
he had named should undergo their trial in conformity
to the laws, and that they should be punished accord¬
ing to the measure of their guilt: and she invited him
to leave his retirement immediately, and meet her at
court, that he might witness the proceedings against
them, and the zeal with which she was animated to
perform the part that became her.
While the queen carried on this correspondence with
the earl of Lenox, she resided partly at the palace of
the lord Seton, at the distance of a few miles from the
capital, and partly at Holyroodhouse. By the time that
she sent her invitation to him, she was residing in the
capital. She delayed not to confer with her counsellors,
and to lay before them the letters of the earl of Lenox.
Bothwel was earnest in his protestations of innocence ;
and he even expressed his wish for a trial, that he might
establish his integrity. No facts indicated his guilt;
there had appeared no accuser but the earl of Lenox ;
and no witnesses had been found who could establish his
criminality. Her privy-council seemed to her to be
firmly persuaded that he was suffering under the malice
of defamation. Murray, Morton, and Lethington, what¬
ever their private machinations might be, were publicly
his most strenuous defenders ; and they explained the
behaviour of the eari of Lenox to be the effect of hatred
and jealousy against a nobleman who had outrun him so-
far in the career of ambition. But though all the arts of
Murray and Bothwell, Morton and Lethington, were
exerted to the utmost to mislead the queen, they were
not abl*e to withhold her from adopting the conduct
which was the most proper and the most honourable to
her. It was her own ardent desire that the regicides
should be punished ; she had given her solemn promise
to the earl of Lenox, that the persons whom he suspected
should i
its proper influence upon her soul. Hitherto, in this argument, no positive evidence has been adduced toqarove her
guilt; and therefore she ought to be acquitted as innocent. But at length certain letters, sorawe/sj. and cont>acts
between Mary and Bothwel, have been introduced as proofs of a guilty intercourse, rather than a direct partici¬
pation in the crime ; and those letters, sonnets, and contracts, were first produced by the earl of Morton, the
queen’s chancellor for life, who pretended to have found them in the custody of Dalghesh, a servant of Lothwel.
Yet this wretched magistrate had committed murder and treason at the assassination of Rizzio ; he knew o t le
design to assassinate Darnley, yet he concealed it, and was thereby guilty of misprision ; he knew of the crime,
and was of course a participant, for which he was brought to the scaffold, where he acknowledged his crimes :
now, this convicted criminal would not be admitted as a witness in any court of justice within Great Britain ; am.
the production of such documents by such a wretch at such a time, casts strong suspicion on such papers, which
were contaminated by his guilty touch. When those suspicious epistles were first introduced into the privy-
council they appeared, as the register asserts, to have been written and subscribed by her own hand, and sent to
James Earl of Bothwel. When those prerie letters were first brought into the Scottish parliament, they appear
only to have been healie written with her own hand, as the record evinces, and not subscribed byJier.^ Lhen
those dubious letters were first produced before the commissioners at York, for ^ pr, fh’s com
guilt, they seem to have been superscribed to Bothwel; yet, they afterwards appeared before Elizabeth s com¬
missioners at Westminster, without any superscription to .any man ; and those Jetters ma y appear o av L1
neither subscribed by Mary, nor superscribed to Bothwel. When those letters wer^‘f ^
privy-council of Scotland, they were written in the Scottish language ; so they appeared to the comm ss o t
at York but when they were produced to the commissioners at Westminster, they were written m F ench
The whole thus appears to have been a juggle of state, to cozen the peopJe into obedmnee^ The *
contracts have beS equally convicted, by their own “ ^
on the genuineness or forgery of those documents ; 1 nave lansacKcu urn i ape* u . ,,
hiterestfng subject, and theJ docs not appear to arc to be a tittle of ^dyco, qcltmy of those deep,cable,
forgeries, to prove that Mary Stuart had any knowledge of the murder of hex husband-.
20
SCOTLAND.
707
and is in¬
vited to
prove his
accusa¬
tions.
Scotland, should be prosecuted ; and amidst all the appearances
in favour of Bothwel, and all the influence employed
to serve him, it is to be regarded as a striking proof of
her honour, vigour, and ability, that she could accom¬
plish this measure. An order of the privy-council was
accordingly made, which directed, that the earl of
Bothwel, and all the persons named by Lenox, should
be brought to trial for the murder of the king, and
that the laws of the land should be carried into execu¬
tion. The 12th of April was appointed for the trial.
A general invitation was given to all persons to prefer
their accusations. The earl of Lenox was formally
cited to do himself justice, by appearing in the high
court of justiciary, and by coming forward to make
known the guilt of the culprits.
In the mean time, it was proper to repress that spirit
of outrage which had manifested itself against the queen.
No discoveries, however, were made, except against
James Murray, brother to Sir William Murray of Tul-
libardin, who at different times had published placards
injurious to her. He was charged to appear before
the privy-council : but refusing to obey its citation, it
was made a capital offence for any commander of a
vessel to convey him out of the kingdom ; and the re¬
solution was taken to punish him with an exemplary
severity. Effecting his escape, however, he avoided
the punishment due to his repeated and detestable
acts of calumny and treason.
The day for the trial of Bothwel approached. The
conspirators, notwithstanding their power,were not with¬
out apprehensions. Their preparations, however, for
their safety had been anxious ; and among other prac¬
tices, they neglected not to attempt to infuse a panic in-
He is inti- to the earl of Lenox. They were favoured by his con-
naulated, sciousness of his unpopularity and his want of strength,
by his timidity and his spirit of jealousy. Suspicions of
the queen’s guilt were insinuated; and the dangers to
which he might be exposed by insisting on the trial were
placed before him in the strongest colours. He was
sensible of her aversion to him ; and his weakness and
the sovereign authority were contrasted. His friends
concurred with his enemies to intimidate him, from the
spirit of flattery, or from a real belief that his situation
was critical. By the time he reached Stirling on his
70f) way to Edinburgh, his fears predominated. He made
and wishes a full stop. He was no longer in haste to proceed a-
to defer the gainst the regicides. He addressed a letter to the queen,
in which he said he had fallen into such sickness, that
he could not travel; and he affirmed, that he had not
time to prepare for the trial and to assemble his friends.
He complained, too, that Bothwel and his accomplices
had not been committed to custody ; he insisted, that
this step should be taken; and he requested, that a more
distant day might be appointed for the trial. After the
lengths to which matters had been carried, this conduct
was most improper ; and it is only to be accounted for
from terror or caprice. His indisposition was affected ;
he had been invited by Mary to wait on her at Edin¬
burgh at an early period, to concert his measures ; and
the delay he asked was contradictory to his former in¬
treaties. After the invitation sent to him, he might
have relied with safety on the protection of the queen,
without any gathering of his friends ; from the time of
her private intimation to him, and of the legal citations
ot her officers, there had passed a period more than suf-
708
trial;
ficient for the purpose of calling them together ; and Scotland,
indeed to suppose that there was any necessity for their v—-y—J
assistance, was an insult to government, and a matter of
high indecency. There was more justice in the com¬
plaint, that the earl of Bothwel and his accomplices had
not been taken into custody ; and yet even in this pe¬
culiarity he was to blame in a great degree. For he
had not observed the precaution of that previous dis¬
play of evidence, known in the Scottish law under the
term of a precognition, which is common in all grosser
offences, and which the weighty circumstances of the
present case rendered so necessary as a foundation for
the confinement and conviction of the criminals. 710
An application for the delay of a trial so important, but his pe¬
on the night immediately preceding the day stated for tition is re-
it, and reciting inconclusive reasons, could not with pro-
priety be attended to. The privy-council refused the
demand of the earl of Lenox. The court of justiciary
was assembled. The earl of Argyle acted in his cha¬
racter of lorcf high justiciary ; and was aided by four
assessors, Robert Pitcairn, commendator of Dunferm¬
line, and the lord Lindsay, with Mr James Macgill and
Mr Henry Balnaves, two lords of session. The indict¬
ment was read, and the earls of Bothwel and Lenox
were called on; the one as the defender, the other as the
accuser. Bothwel, who had come to court with an at¬
tendance of his vassals, and a band of mercenary sol¬
diers, did not fail to present himself: but Lenox appear¬
ed only by his servant Robert Cunnyngham ; who, after
apologizing for his absence, from the shortness of the
time, and the want of the presence of his friends, desir¬
ed that a new day might be appointed for the trial ;
and protested, that if the jury should now enter on the
business, they should incur the guilt of a wilful error,
and their verdict be of no force or authority.
This remonstrance and protestation did not appear to
the court of sufficient importance to interrupt the trial.
They paid a greater respect to the letters of the earl of
Lenox to the queen insisting on an immediate prosecu¬
tion, and to the consequent order of the privy-council.
The jury, who consisted of men of rank and condition, 7J1
after considering and reasoning on the indictment for a Bothwel
considerable time, were unanimous in acquiting Both-acquitted,
wel of all share and knowledge of the king’s murder.
The machinations however of Morton, which we have
mentioned in the life of Mary, were so apparent, that
the earl of Caithness, the chancellor of the assize, made
a declaration in their name and his own, that no wilful
error ought to be imputed to them for their verdict;
no proof, vouchers, or evidence, to confirm or support
the criminal charge having been submitted to them.
At the same time, he offered a protestation for himself,
that there was a mistake in the indictment, the 9th day
of February instead of the 10th being expressed in it as
the date of the murder. It is not to be doubted, that
this flaw in the indictment was a matter of design, and
with a view to the advantage of Bothwel, if the earl of
Lenox had made his appearance against him. And it
has been remarked as most indecent and suspicious,
that soldiers in arms should have accompanied him to
the court of justice ; that during the trial, the earl of
Morton stood by his side to give him countenance and
to assist him ; and that the four assessors to the chief
justiciary were warm and strenuous friends to the earl
of Murray.
Immediately
712
e aspires
a mar-
ige with
2 queen.
713
S C O T
u-otland. Immediately after his trial, Bothwel placed a writing
v ' in a conspicuous place, subscribed by him, challenging
to single combat, any person of equal rank with himself,
who should dare to affirm that he was guilty of the
king s murder, lo this challenge an answer was pub¬
lished, in which the defiance was accepted, on the con¬
dition that security should be given for a fair and equal
contlict: but no name being subscribed to this paper, it
was not understood to correspond with the law of arms ;
and of consequence no step was taken for the fighting
of the duel. Two days after, parliament met, and there
the party of Bothwel appeared equally formidable. The
verdict in his favour was allowed to be true and just.
He was continued in his high offices; and obtained a
parliamentary ratification of the place of keeper of Dun¬
bar castle, with the estates connected with it; and other
favours were conferred on Murray, with the rest of the
nobles suspected as accomplices in the murder.
A very short time after the final acquittal of Bothwel,
he began to give a greater scope to his ambition, and
conceived hopes of gaining the queen in marriage. It
has been already remarked, that he had insidiously en¬
deavoured to gain her affection during the lifetime of
her husband ; but though he might have succeeded in
this, the recent death of the king in such a shocking
manner, and the strong suspicions which must unavoid-
ablystill rest on him, notwithstanding the trial he had un¬
dergone, necessarily prevented him from making his ad-
recom- dresses to her openly. He therefore endeavoured to
ended by gajn tpe nobj]gy over to pig . •which having done
a proper one one’ yj ™eans ox great promises, he invited them
isband for to an entertainment, w here they agreed to ratify a deed
r- pointing him out to the queen as a person worthy of her
714 hand, and expressing their resolute determination to sup-
b emes of port him in his pretensions. This extraordinary bond
2 earl of was accordingly executed ; and Murray’s name was the
rt'thet0 st *n t^ie subscribers, in order to decoy others to
een. sign after him ; but that he might appear innocent of
what lie knew wras to follow, he had, before any use
w'as made of the bond, asked and obtained the queen’s
permission to go to France. In his way thither he vi¬
sited the court of Elizabeth, where he did not fail to
confirm all the reports which had arisen to the disadvan¬
tage of Mary ; and he now circulated the intelligence
that she was soon to be married to Bothwel. Her par¬
tisans in England were exceedingly alarmed ; and even
Queen Elizabeth herself addressed a letter to her, in
which she cautioned her not to afford such a mis¬
chievous handle to the malice of her enemies.
Mary, on the dissolution of parliament, had gone to
rries her Stirling to visit the young prince. Bothwel, armed
to tpe pond of the nobles, assembled 1000 horse, un¬
der the pretence of protecting the borders, of which he
was the warden ; and meeting her on her return to her
capital, dismissed her attendants, and carried her to his
castle of Dunbar. The arts which he used there to ef¬
fect the accomplishment of his washes we have mention¬
ed under another article, (see Mary). But having
been married only six months before to Lady Jane Gor¬
don, sister to the earl of Huntly, it was necessary to pro¬
cure a divorce before he could marry the queen. This
w as easily obtained. The parties were cousins within
the prohibited degrees, and had not obtained a dispen¬
sation from Rome. Their marriage, therefore, in the
opinion of the queen and her Catholic subjects, was illi-
Vcl. XVIII. Part II.
715
)th\vel
L A N D. 721
cit, and a profane mockery of the sacrament of the Scotland.
church. The husband had also been unfaithful; so that ‘—~v '
two actions of divorce were instituted. The lady com- ?16
menced a suit against him in the court of the commis-^^'i* -'^1
saries, charging him as guilty of adultery with one ofwife.
her maids. The earl himself brought a suit against
his wife before the court of the archbishop of St An¬
drew's, on the plea of consanguinity. By both courts
their marriage was declared to be void ; and thus two
sentences of divorce were pronounced.
Bothwel now conducted the queen from Dunbar to
her capital. But instead of attending her to her palace
of Holyroodhouse, his jealousy and apprehensions in¬
duced him to lodge her in the castle of Edinburgh, where
he could hold her in securitj' against any attempt of his
enemies. To give satisfaction, however, to her people,
and to convince them that she was no longer a prisoner,
a public declaration on her part appeared to be a mea¬
sure of expediency. She presented herself, therefore, in
the court of session; the lords chancellor and president,
the judges, and other persons of distinction, being pre¬
sent. After observing that some stop had been put to
the administration of justice on account of her being
detained at Dunbar against her will by the lord Both-
wrel, she declared, that though she had been highly of¬
fended with the outrage offered to her, she was yet in¬
clined to forget it. His courteousness, the sense she
entertained of his past services to the state, and the
hope with which she wras impressed of his zeal and acti¬
vity for the future, compelled her to give him and his ac- "
complices in her imprisonment a full ancLcomplete par¬
don. She at the same time desired them to take notice,
that she was now at liberty ; and that she proposed, in
consideration of his merits, to take an early opportunity
of promoting him to new and distinguished honours. „17.
It was understood that the queen wras immediately i3annsof
to advance him to be her husband. The order was given the mar-
for the proclamation of the banns; and Mr John Craig,riaSe P10-
one of the ministers of Edinburgh, was desired to per-claiined‘
form this ceremony. But though the order was sub¬
scribed by the queen, he absolutely refused his com¬
pliance without the authority of the church. The bre¬
thren, after long reasonings, granted him permission to
discharge this duty. His scruples and delicacy were
not yet removed. He protested, that, in obeying their
desire, he should be allowed to speak his own sentiments
concerning the marriage, and that his publishing the
banns should infer no obligation on him to officiate in
the solemnity. In his congregation, accordingly, before
a crowded audience, and in the presence of several noble¬
men and privy-councillors, he declared that the mar¬
riage of the queen and the earl of Bothwel was unlaw¬
ful, and that he was prepared to give his reasons for this
opinion to the parties themselves. Fie added, that if
leave to do this was denied him, he wrould either ab¬
stain altogether from proclaiming the banns, or take the
liberty, after proclaiming them, to inform his people of 718
the causes of his disapprobation of the marriage. He Fortitude
stated, that the church had prohibited the marriage of Mr Jolm
of persons separated for adultery ; and that the divorce Crai£-
between him and his wife must have been owing to col¬
lusion ; since the sentence had been given with preci¬
pitation, and since his new contract was so sudden ; and
he objected to him the abduction and ravishment of the
queen, and his suspicion of his guilt of the king’s mur-
f 4 Y deiv
SCOTLAND.
722
. Scotland, der. This hold language drew no reply from Bothwel
•y-"-'' that was satisfactory to Mr Craig, or that could intimi¬
date him. He proclaimed in his church the banns of
marriage ; but he told the congregation, that he dis¬
charged thesuggestionsof his conscience in pronouncing
it to be a detestable and scandalous engagement. He
expressed the sorrow he felt for the conduct of the no¬
bility, who seemed to approve it from their flattery or
silence; and addressing himself to the faithful, he be¬
sought them to pray to the Almighty that he would
turn a resolution intended against law, reason, and reli¬
gion, into a comfort and benefit to the church and the
kingdom. These freedoms were too great to pass un¬
noticed. Mr Craig was ordered again to attend the
privy-council ; and he was reprimanded with severity
for exceeding the bounds of his commission. He had
the courage to defend himself. His commission, he said,
was founded in the word of God, positive law, and na¬
tural reason ; and on the foundation of these topics he
was about to prove that the marriage must be universal¬
ly odious, when the earl of Bothwel commanded him to
be silent. The privy-council, struck with the vigour of
the man, and apprehensive of the public discontents,
did not dare to inflict any punishment on him ; and this
victory over Bothvvel, while it heightened all the suspi¬
cions against him, served to encourage the enemies of
the queen, and to undermine the respect of her subjects.
Mary, before she gave her hand to Bothwel, created
739 him duke of Orkney. The ceremony was performed
w .ma]r" a Pr^vafe manner, after the rules of the Popish church;
braced. " but, to gratify the people, it was likewise solemnized
publicly, according to the Protestant rites, by Adam
Bothwel bishop of Orkney, an ecclesiastic who had re¬
nounced the episcopal order for the reformation. It
was celebrated with little pomp and festivity. Many
of the nobles bad retired to their seats in the country ;
and those who attended were thoughtful and sad. Du
Croc, the French ambassador, sensible that the match
would be displeasing to his court, refused to give his
countenance to the solemnity. There were no accla¬
mations of the common people. Mary herself was not
inconscious of the imprudence of the choice she had
made, and looked back with surprise and sorrow to the
train of circumstances which had conducted her to this
fatal event. Forsaken by her nobles, and imprisoned at
Dunbar, she was in so perilous a situation that no re¬
medy could save her honour but death. Her marriage
was the immediate and necessary consequence of that
situation, (t) It was the point for which her enemies
had laboured with a wicked and relentless policy.
Mary was unfortunate in her second marriage, but
much more so in her third. Bothwel had neither ta¬
lents for business nor affection for his wife. Ambitious
and jealous to the last degree, he sought only to esia- Scotland.
blish himself in power, while his fears and jealousies’ v—
made him take the most improper means. The mar¬
riage had already thrown the nation into a ferment; and
the least improper exercise of power, or indeed an ap¬
pearance of it, even on the part of the queen, would
have been sufficient to ruin them both for ever. Per¬
haps the only thing which at this juncture could have
pacified the people, would have been the total abolition
of Popery, which they had often required. But this 7„0
was not thought of. Instead of taking any step to Bothwel
please the people. Bothwell endeavoured to force the attempts to
carl of Mar to deliver up the young prince to his cus- £et tlle
tody.—This was sufficient to rekindle the flame which ju.
had hitherto been smothered, and make it burst out to bis
with all its violence. It was universally believed that power.
Bothwel, who had been the murderer of the father, de¬
signed also to take away the life of the son ; and the
queen was thought to participate in all his crimes. The
earl of Murray now took advantage of the queen’s un¬
fortunate situation, to aggrandize himself and effect her h21
ruin. After having visited the English court, he pro- Murray ca-
ceeded to France, where he assiduously disseminated all lumniates
the reports against the queen which were injurious tothe<lucen‘
her reputation; and where, without being exposed to
suspicion, he was able to maintain a close correspond¬
ence with his friends Morton and Lethington, and to
inspirit their machinations. His associates, true to his
ambition and their own, had promoted all the schemes
of Bothwel on the queen with a power and influence
which insured their success. In confederacy with the
earl of Murray, they had conspired with him to murder
the king. Assisted with the weight of the earl of Mur¬
ray, they had managed his trial, and promoted the ver¬
dict by which he was acquitted. By the same arts, and
with the same views, they had joined with him to pro¬
cure the bond of the nobles recommending him to the
queen as a husband, asserting his integrity and inno¬
cence, recounting his noble qualities, expressing an un¬
alterable resolution to support the marriage against every
opposer and adversary, and recording a wish that a de¬
fection from its objects and purposes should be branded
with everlasting infamy, and held out as a most faithless
and perjured treachery. When the end, however, was
accomplished for which they had been so zealous, and
when the marriage of the queen was actually celebrated,
the)r laid aside the pretence of friendship, and were in
haste to entitle themselves to the ignominy which they
had invited to fall on them. The murder of the king,
the guilt of Bothwell, his acquittal, his divorce, and his
marriage, became the topics of their complaints and de¬
clamation. On the foundation of this hated marriage,
they even ventured privately to infer the privity of the
queen
(t) “ The queen (says Melvil) could not but marry him ; seeing he had ravished her and lain with her against
her will. ” Memoirs, p. 159. In the following passage, from a writer of great authority, in our history, this topic
is touched with no less exactness, but with greater delicacy. “ After Mary had remained a fortnight under the
power of a daring profligate adventurer, ” says Lord Hailes, “ few foreign princes would have solicited her hand.
Some of her subjects might still have sought that honour ; but her compliance would have been humiliating be¬
yond measure. It would have left her at the mercy of a capricious husband ; it would have exposed her to the
disgrace of being reproached, in some sullen hour, for the adventure at Dunbar. Mary was so situated, at
this cr’itical period, that she was reduced to this horrid alternative, either to remain in a friendless and hazard'
qus celibacy, or to yield her hand to Bothwel. ” Remarks on the History of Scotland, p. 204,
SCO T
cotliind. queen to ail his iniquitous transactions; and this step
seemed doubtless, to the mass of her own subjects and
to more distant observers, a strong confirmation of all
the former suspicions to her shame which had been cir¬
culated with so much artifice. Their imputations and
devices excited against her, both at home and abroad,
the most indignant and humiliating odium. Amidst
the ruins of her fame, they thought of burying for
ever her tranquillity at\d peace; and in the convul¬
sions which they had meditated, they were already an¬
ticipating the downfal of Bothwel, and snatching at the
722 crown that tottered on her head,
conftde- ]]ut while this cabal were prosecuting their private
ii mst nKClent^s’ several noblemen, not less remarkable for their
; thwel. virtue than their rank, were eager to vindicate tire na¬
tional integrity and honour. The earl of Athol, on
the king’s murder, had retired from court, and was
waiting for a proper season to take revenge on the re¬
gicides. The earl of Mar, uneasy under the charge
of the young prince, was solicitous to make himself
strong, that he might guard him from injury. Mo¬
tives so patriotic and honourable drew applause and
partisans. It was sufficient to mention them. By pri¬
vate conference and debate, an association was insen¬
sibly formed to punish the murderers of the king, and
to protect the person of the prince. Morton and Le-
thington encouraged and promoted a combination from
which they might derive so much advantage. A con¬
vention was accordingly appointed at Stirling, for the
purpose of consulting on the measures which it was
most expedient to pursue. They agreed to take an
early opportunity of appearing in the field; and when
they separated, it was to collect their retainers, and
to inspirit their passions.
Of this confederacy, the leading men were the earls
of Argyle, Athol, Morton, Mar, and Glencairn; the
lords Hume, Sempil, and Lindsay; the barons Kirk-
aldy of Grange, Murray of Tullibardin, and Maitland
of Lethington. The earl of Bothwel was sensible,
that if he was to sit on a throne, he must wade to it
through blood. By his advice, two proclamations were
issued in the name of the queen, under pretence of
725 suppressing insurrections and depredations on the bor-
1 ; queen ders. By the former, she called together in arms, on
pj tares for an earjy t]ie ear]S) barons, and freeholders, of the
districts of Forfar and Perth, Strathern and Menteith,
Clackmannan, Kinross, and Fife. By the latter she
charged the greater and lesser baronage, with all the
inferior proprietors of the shires of Linlithgow and
Edinburgh, and the constabulary of Haddington and
Berwick, to prepare immediately for war, and to keep
themselves in readiness to march at her order. These
military preparations admonished the association to be
firm and active, and added to the public inquietudes
and discontents. The rumours against the queen were
most violent and loud. It was said, that she meant to
overturn the constitution and the laws; that she had
been careless of the health of her son, and was altogether
indifferent about his preservation; that she had separated
herself from the counsels and assistance of her nobles;
and that she wished to make her whim or discretion
the only rule of her government. Agitated with the
hazardous state of her affairs, she published a new pro¬
clamation, in which she employed herself to refute these
accusations; and in which she took the opportunity of
L A N 1). 723
expressing in a very forcible manner, not only her at- Scotland,
tachment to her people and the laws, bat the fond af- v
fection which she bore to the prince, whom she con¬
sidered as the chief joy of her life, and without whom
all her days would be comfortless.
The declarations of the queen were treated with
scorn. The nobles, abounding in vassals, and having
the hearts of the people, were soon in a situation to
take the field. They were advancing to the capital.
The royal army was not yet assembled; and the queen
and Bothwel suspected that the castle of Edinburgh
would shut its gates upon them. The fidelity of Sir
James Balfour the deputy-governor had been shaken
by the practices of the earl of Mar and Sir James Mel-
vil. Mary left her palace of Holyroodhouse, and was
conducted to Borthwick castle. The associated lords,
informed of her flight, took the road to this fortress »04
with 2000 horse. The lord Hume, by a rapid march, But is obli-
presented himself before it with the division under hisged to fly
command: but being unable to guard all its avenues,10 0unLiar*
the queen and Bothwel effected their escape to Dun¬
bar ; where the strength of the fortifications gave them
a full security against a surprise.
On this second disappointment, the nobles resolved
to enter Edinburgh, and to augment their strength by
new partisans. The earl of Huntly and the lord Boyd
were here on the side of the queen, with the archbishop
of St Andrew’s, the bishop of Ross, and the abbot of
Kilwinning. They endeavoured to animate the inha¬
bitants to defend their town and the cause of their so¬
vereign. But the tide of popularity was favourable to
the confederated lords. The magistrates ordered the
gates of the city to be shut; but no farther resistance
was intended. The lords, forcing St Mary’s port,
found an easy admittance, and took possession of the
capital. The earl of Huntly and the queen’s friends
fled to the castle, to Sir James Balfour, who had been
the confidant of Both.vel, and who agreed to protect
them, although he was now concluding a treaty with
the insurgents.
The associated lords now formed themselves into a Procfama-
council, and circulated a proclamation. By this paper tion by the
they declared, that the queen, being detained in capti- rc',K'!1,0US
vity, was able neither to govern her realm, nor to com- 110 es'
mand a proper trial to be taken of the king’s murder.
In an emergency so pressing they had not despaired of
their country; but were determined to deliver the queen
from bondage, to protect the person of the prince, to
revenge the murder of the king, and to vindicate the
nation from the infamy which it had hitherto suffered
through the impunity of the regicides. They therefore
commanded in general all the subjects of Scotland, and
the burgesses and inhabitants of Edinburgh in particular,
to take part with them, and to join in the advancement
of purposes so beneficial and salutary. rlhe day after
they published this proclamation, they issued another in
terms that were stronger and more resolute. I hey de-
finitively expressed their persuasion of Bothwel’s guilt in
the rape and seduction of the queen, and in his perpe¬
tration of the king’s murder, in order to accomplish his
marriage. They inculcated it as their firm opinion, that
Bothwel had now formed the design of murdering the
young prince, and that he was collecting troops with
this View. Addressing themselves, therefore, to all the
subjects of the realm, whether they resided in counties
4' Y 2 or
724 8 C 0 T
Scotland. ov jn horouglis, they invited them to come forward to
' v—~'1 their standard; and desired them to remember, that
all persons who should presume to disobey them would
be treated as enemies and traitors.
Bothwel, in the mean time, was not inactive; and
the proclamations of the queen had brought many of
her vassals to her assistance. Four thousand comba¬
tants ranged themselves on her side. This force might
augment as she approached to her capital; and Both-
wel was impatient to put his fortunes to the issue of a
battle. He left the strong castle of Dunbar, where the
nobles were not prepared to assail him, and where he
might have remained in safety till they dispersed; for
their proclamations were not so successful as they had
expected; their provisions and stores were scanty; and
the zeal of the common people, unsupported by prospe¬
rity, would soon have abated. Imprudent precipitation
726 served them in a most effectual manner. When the
Manifesto queen had reached Gladsmuir, she ordered a manifesto
]>y the t0 ke reat| (-q ]ler army, and to be circulated among her
subjects. By this paper, she replied to the proclama¬
tions of the confederated nobles, and charged them with
treachery and rebellion. She treated their reasons of
hostility as mere pretences, and as inventions which
could not bear to be examined. As to the king’s mur¬
der, she protested, that she herself was fully determined
to revenge it, if she could be so fortunate as to discover
its perpetrators. With regard to the bondage from
which they were so desirous to relieve her, she observed,
that it was a falsehood so notorious, that the simplest of
her subjects could confute it; for her marriage had been
celebrated in a public manner, and the nobles could
scarcely have forgotten that they had subscribed a bond
recommending Bothwel to be her husband. With re¬
gard to the industrious defamations of this nobleman,
it was urged, that he had discovered the utmost solici-
citude to establish his innocence. He had invited a
scrutiny into his guilt; the justice of his country had ab¬
solved him; the three estates assembled in parliament
were satisfied with the proceedings of his judges and
jury; and he had offered to maintain his quarrel against
any person whatever who was equal to him in rank and
of an honest reputation. The nobles, she said, to give a
fair appearance to their treason, pretended, that Both¬
wel had schemed the destruction of the prince, and that
they were in arms to protect him. The prince, however,
was actually in their own custody; the use they made
of him was that of a cover to their perfidiousness; and
the real purposes by which they were animated, were
the overthrow of her greatness, the ruin of her posterity,
and the usurpation of the royal authority. She there¬
fore entreated the aid of her faithful subjects; and as
the prize of their valorous service, she held out to them
the estates and possessions of the rebels.
The associated nobles, pleased with the approach of
the queen, put themselves in motion. In the city of
Edinburgh they had received an addition to their force;
and it happened that the Scottish officer who command¬
ed the companies, which, in this period, the king of
Denmark was permitted to enlist in Scotland, had been
gained to assist them. He had just completed his levies;
and he turned them against the queen. The nobles,
after advancing to Musselburgh, refreshed their troops.
Intelligence w'lts brought that the queen was on her
march. The two armies wrere nearly equal in num-
L A N D.
bers; but the preference, in point of valour and disci- Scotland.
pline, belonged decisively to the soldiers of the nobles. \r—'
The queen posted herself on the top of Carberry hill. ^
The lords, taking a circuit to humour the ground, seem-art’f^vo _
ed to be retreating to Dalkeith; but, wheeling about,proach
they approached to give her battle. They were ranged each other,
in two divisions. The one was commanded by the earl
of Morton and the lord Hume; the other by the earls
of Athol, Mar, and Glencairn, with the lords Lind¬
say, Ruthven, Sempil, and Sanquhar. Bothwel was
the leader of the royal forces ; and the lords Seton,
Yester, and Borthwick, served under him.
It was not without apprehensions that Mary survey- Du Croc
ed the formidable appearance of her enemies. Dunegociates
Croc, the French ambassador, hastened to interpose hiswitl,jtlle
good offices, and to attempt an accommodation. Here e s'
assured the nobles of the peaceful inclinations of the
queen : and that the generosity of her nature disposed
her not only to forgive their present insurrection, but
to forget all their former transgressions. The earl of
Morton informed him, that they had not armed them¬
selves against the queen, but against the murderer of
the late king; and that if she would surrender him up
to them, or command him to leave her, they would
consent to return to their duty. The earl of Glencairn
desired him to observe, that the extremity to which
they had proceeded might have instructed him that
they meant not to ask pardon for any offences they
had committed, but that they were rqsolved to take
cognisance of injuries which had provoked their dis¬
pleasure. This aspiring language confounded Du Croc,
who had been accustomed to the worshipful submis¬
sions which are paid to a despot. He conceived that
all negociation was fruitless, and withdrew from the
field in the expectation that the sword would imme¬
diately give its law, and determine every difference.
Mary was full of perturbation and distress. The state
into which she had been brought by Bothwel did not
fail to engage her serious reflection. It was with in¬
finite regret that she considered the consequences of her
situation at Dunbar. Nor had his behaviour since her
marriage contributed to allay her inquietudes. The
violence of his passions, his suspicions, and his guilt, had
induced him to surround her with his creatures, and to
treat her with insult and indignity. She had been al¬
most constantly in tears. His demeanour, which was
generally rude and indecent, was often savage and bru¬
tal. At different times his provocations were so insult¬
ing, that she had even attempted to arm her hand against
her life, and was desirous of relieving her wretchedness
by spilling her blood. On this account, she was now
encompassed with dangers. Her crown was in hazard.
Under unhappy agitations, she rode through the ranks
of her army, and found her soldiers dispirited. What¬
ever respect they might entertain for her, they had none
for her husband. His own retainers and dependents 729
only were willing to fight for him. He endeavoured Bothwel
to awaken the royal army to valour, by throwing down01™!1^6*
the gauntlet of defiance against any of his adversaries^^^
who should dare to encounter him. His challenge was
instantly accepted by Kirkaldy of Grange, and by Mur¬
ray of Tullibardin. He objected that they were not
peers. The lord Lindsay discovered the greatest im¬
patience to engage him, and his offer was admitted;
but the queen interposing her prerogative, prohibited
■otland.
730
: is ob-
.d tu fly.
731
iry sur-
iders
self to
rebels.
732
i ■ whom
: is cru-
y used.
S C O T L A N D.
725'
the comhat. All the pride and hopes of Bothvvel
sunk within him. His soldiers in small parties were
secretly abandoning their standards. It was equally
perilous to the queen to fight or to fiy. The most pru¬
dent expedient for her was to capitulate. She desired
to confer with Kirkaldy of Grange, who remonstrated
to her against the guilt and wickedness of Bothwel, and
counselled her to abandon him. She expressed her will¬
ingness to dismiss him on condition that the lords would
acknowledge their allegiance and continue in it. Kirk¬
aldy passed to the nobles, and received their authority
to assure her that they would honour, serve, and obey
her as their princess and sovereign. He communicated
this intelligence to her. She advised Bothwel to pro¬
vide for his safety by flight: and Kirkaldy admonished
him not to neglect this opportunity of effecting his e-
scape. Overwhelmed with shame, disappointment, ter¬
ror, and remorse and despaii, this miserable victim of
ambition and guilt turned his eyes to her for the last
time. To Kirkaldy of Grange she stretched out her
hand : he kissed it; and taking the bridle of her horse,
conductedher towards the nobles. They were approach¬
ing her with becoming reverence. She said to them,
“ I am come, my lords, to express my respect, and to
conclude our agreement; I am ready to be instructed
by the wisdom of your counsels ; and I am confident
that you will treat me as your sovereign. ” The earl of
Morton, in the name of the confederacy, ratified their
promises, and addressed her in these words: “ Madam,
you are here among us in your proper place; and we
will pay to you as much honour, service, and obedience,
as ever in any former period was oft’ered by the nobility
to the princes your predecessors. ”
This gleam of sunshine was soon overcast. She re¬
mained not many hours in the camp, till the common
soldiers, instigated by her enemies, presumed to insult
her with the most unseemly reproaches. They exclaim¬
ed indignantly against her as the murderer of her hus¬
band. They reviled her as a lewd adulteress in the
most open manner, and in language the coarsest and
most opprobrious. The nobility forgot their promises,
and seemed to have neither honour nor humanity. She
had changed one miserable scene for a distress that was
deeper and more hopeless. They surrounded her with
guards, and conducted her to her capital. She was
carried along its streets, and shown to her people in
captivity and sadness. She cried out to them to com¬
miserate and protect her. I hey withheld their pity,
and afforded her no protection. Even new insults were
offered to her. The lowest of the populace, whom the
declamations of the clergy had driven into rage and
madness, vied with the soldiery in the licentious out¬
rage of invective and execration. She besought Mait¬
land to solicit the lords to repress the insupportable
atrocity of her treatment. She conjured him to let
them know, that she would submit herself implicitly
to the determination of parliament. Her entreaties
and her sufferings made no impression on the nobles.
They continued the savage cruelty of their demean¬
our. She implored, as the last request she would pre¬
fer to them, that they would lead her to her palace.
This consolation, too, was refused to her. They wish¬
ed to accustom her subjects to behold her in disgrace,
and to teach them to triumph over her misfortunes. In
the most mortifying £md afflicting horn' she had ever ex-
733
perienced, oppressed with fatigue, and disfigured with Scotland
dust and sorrow, they shut her up in the house of the
lord provost: leaving her to revolve in her anxious and
agitated mind the indignities she had already endured,
and to suffer in anticipation the calamities they might
yet inflict on her.
The malice of Morton and his adherents was still far
from being gratified. In the morning, when the queen
looked from the window of the apartment to which
she had been confined, she perceived a white banner
displayed in such a manner as to fix her attention.
There was delineated on it the body of the late king
stretched at the foot of a tree, and the prince on his
knees before it, with a label from his mouth, contain¬
ing tins prayer, “ Judge and revenge my cause, O
Lord ! ” This abominable banner revived all the bit¬
terness of her afflictions. The curiosity of the people The com-
drew them to a scene so new and so affecting. Shemon pco-
exclaimed against the treachery of her nobles ; and shePle take her
begged the spectators to relieve her from their tyranny.pau’
The eventful story of the preceding day had thrown
her capital into a ferment. The citizens of a better
condition crowded to behold the degraded majesty of
their sovereign. Her state of humiliation, so opposite
to the grandeur from which she had fallen, moved them
with compassion and sympathy. They heard her tale,
and were filled with indignation. Her lamentations,
her disorder, her beauty, all stimulated their ardour for
her deliverance. It was announced to the nobles, that
the tide of popular favour had turned towards the
queen. They hastened to appear before her, and to
assure her, with smiles and courtesy, that they were
immediately to conduct her to her palace, and to rein¬
state her in her royalty. Imposing on her credulous
nature, and that beautiful humanity which characteriz¬
ed her even in the most melancholy situations of her
life, they prevailed with her to inform the people that
she was pacified, and that she wished them to disperse. 7^4
They separated in obedience to her desire. The nobles but by the
now conveyed her to Holyroodhouse. But nothinga^v*ce
could be farther from their intentions than her re-^®^?^
establishment in liberty and grandeur. They held ases them.,
council, in which they deliberated concerning the man¬
ner in which they ought to dispose of her. It was re¬
solved, that she should be confined during her life in the
fortress of Lochleven; and they subscribed an order for
her commitment.
A resolution so sudden, so perfidious, and so tyran¬
nical, filled Mary with the utmost astonishment, and
drew from her the most bitter complaints and exclama- 7_5
tions. Kirkaldy of Grange, perceiving with surprise she’is de-
the lengths to which the nobles had proceeded, felt hisfended by
honour take the alarm for the part he had acted at their Kirkaldy of
desire. He expostulated with them on their breach r‘inge >
of trust, and censured the extreme rigour of the queen s
treatment. They counselled him to rely on the in¬
tegrity of their motives ; spoke of her passion for Both¬
wel as most vehement; and insisted on the danger of
intrusting her with power. He was not convinced by
their speeches; and earnestly recommended lenient
and moderate measures. Discreet admonitions, he said,
could not fail of impressing her with a full sense of the
hazards and inconveniences of an improper passion, and
a little time would cure her of it. They assured him,
that when, it appeared that she detested. Bothwel, and
had-
726
SCOTLAND.
Scotland. ]UK] utterly abandoned bis interests, they would think
 ' of kindness and moderation. But this, they urged,
Bu^he is cou*^ scarcely be expected ; for they had recently in-
silenccct by tercepted a letter from her to this nobleman, in which
a forgery of die expressed, in the strongest terms, the warmth of
the nobles. ]iet love, and her fixed purpose never to forsake him (u).
Kirkaldy was desired to peruse this letter; and he
pressed them no longer with his remonstrances. The
queen, in the mean time, sent a message to this gene-
rou- soldier, complaining of the cruelty of her nobles,
and reminding him that they had violated their en¬
gagements. He instantly addressed an answer to it,
recounting the reproaches he had made to them ; stat¬
ing bis advice ; describing the surprise with which he
had read her intercepted letter ; and conjuring her to
renounce and forget a most wicked and flagitious man,
and, by this victory over herself, to regain the love
and respect of her subjects. The device of a letter
from her to Bothwel completed the amazement of the
queen. So unprincipled a contempt of every thing
that is most sacred, so barbarous a perseverance in
perfidiousne-s and injustice, extinguished every sen¬
timent of hope in her bosom. She conceived that she
was doomed to inevitable destruction, and sunk under
he pangs of unutterable anguish.
The lords Ruthven and Lindsay arrived during this
paroxysm of her distress, to inform her, that the}' were
commanded to put in execution the order of her com¬
mitment. They charged her women to take from her
all her ornaments and her royal attire. A mean dress
was put on her ; and in this disguise they conveyed
her with precipitation to the prison appointed for her.
The lords Seton, Tester, and Borthwick, endeavour¬
ed to rescue her, but failed in the attempt. She was
delivered over to William Douglas the governor of the
castle of Lochleven, who had married the mother of
the earl of Murray, and was himself nearly related to
the earl of Morton. See Mary.
On the same day on which the nobles subscribed
lions lords the order for the imprisonment of the queen, they en-
enter into tered into a bond of concurrence or confederacy. By
this deed they bound themselves to the strenuous pro¬
secution of their quarrel; and it detailed the purposes
which they were to pursue. They proposed to pu¬
nish the murderers of the king, to examine into the
queen’s rape, to dissolve her marriage, to preserve her
from the bondage of Bothwel, to protect the person of
737
Mary con¬
fined in
Lochleven
castle.
738
The rebel-
a bond of
association
the prince, and to restore justice to the realm. The Scotland.
sanction of a most solemn oath confirmed their reliance  
on each other ; and in advancing their measures, they
engaged to expose and employ their lives, kindred, and
fortunes.
It is easy to see, notwithstanding all the pretended
patriotism of the rebels, that nothing was farther from
their intentions than to prosecute Bothwel and restore
the queen to her dignity. They had already treated
her in the vilest manner, and allowed Bothwel to escape
when they might heave easily apprehended and brought
him to trial. To exalt themselves was their only aim.
Eleven days after the capitulation at Carberry hill, they
held a convention, in which they very properly assumed
the name of lords of 'the secret council, and issued a pro¬
clamation for apprehending Bothwel as the murderer
of the king ; offering a reward of 1000 crowns to any 739
person who should bring him to Edinburgh. A search Several
was made for the murderers of the king that very night Persons
in which the queen was confined in Lochleven castle.
One Sebastian a Frenchman, and captain Blackader, 0f the
were apprehended; and soon after James Edmonstone, king’smur.
John Blackader, and Mynart Fraser, were taken upl¬
and imprisoned. The people expected full and satis¬
factory proofs of the guilt of Bothwel, but were disap¬
pointed. The affirmation of the nobles, that they were
possessed of evidence v.diich could condemn him,appear¬
ed to be no better than an artifice. Sebastian found
means to escape; the other persons were put to the tor¬
ture and sustained it without making any confession that
the nobles could publish. They were condemned, how¬
ever, and executed, as being concerned in the murder.
In their dying moments they protested their innocence.
Sanguine hopes were entertained that Captain Blacka¬
der would reveal the whole secret at the place of exe¬
cution, and a vast multitude of spectators were present. 7<10
No information, however, could be derived from what But they
he said with respect to the regicides ; but while he so- make no
lemnly protested that his life was unjustly taken away,coll,essl0n'
he averred it as his belief that the earls of Murray and
Morton were the contrivers of the king’s murder. 741
The lords of the secret council now proceeded to the Robberies
greatest enormities. They robbed the palace of Holy mid out-
roodhouse of its furniture and decorations ; converted
the queen’s plate into coin ; and possessed themselves cj lords,
of her jewels, which were of great value ; and while
the faction at large committed these acts of robbery, the
earl
(u) “ PJr Hume is candid enough to give up the authenticity of this letter ; and indeed, so far as I have
observed, there is not the slightest pretence of a reason for conceiving it to be genuine ; ( Hist, of England,
vol. V. p. 120.) It was not mentioned by the earl of Morton and his adherents to Throgmorton, when Eliza¬
beth interfered in the affairs of Scotland upon the imprisonment of the queen in the castle of Lochleven : a
period of time when these statesmen were desirous to throw out every imputation to her prejudice, and when,
in particular, they were abusing her with vehemence for her attachment to Bothwel; (Keith, p. 419.) Nor
was it made use of by Murray before the English commissioners. Mary, in the condition to which the nobles
had reduced her, could not well think of a step of this sort, although her attachment to Bothwel had been as
strong as they were pleased to pronounce it For, not to speak of the greatness of her distress, she was
guarded by them so strictly, as to make it vain for her to pretend to elude their vigilance In regard, too,
to her love of Bothwel, it is not clear that it was ever real. While the king was alive, there are no traces of
their improper intercourse. The affair of Dunbar was a criminal seduction. The arts of a profligate man
overcame her. There was no sentiment of love upon either side. After her marriage, his rudeness extin¬
guished in her altogether any remain of kindness and respect; and hence the coldness with which she parted
" ith him. ” Stuart’s History of Scotland, vol. i. p.253. note.
S C O T L A N D.
727
742
] ry com-
| ed to
s i a rc-
s lation
( icr
t vn,
5|i July,
1 7.
otland. ear] 0f Glencairnwith solemn hypocrisy demolished the
altar in the queen’s chapel, and defaced and destroyed
all its pictures and ornaments. These excessive outra¬
ges, however, lost them the favour of the people, and
an association was formed in favour of the queen. The
court of France, as soon as the news of Mary’s impri¬
sonment an ived, despatched M. de Villeroy to condole
with her on her misfortunes : hut the lords of the se¬
cret council would not admit him to see her, on which
he immediately returned to his own country. The earl
of Murray, however, was at this time in France ; and
to the promises of this ambitious and treacherous noble
the king trusted, imagining him to be a steady friend
to the unfortunate queen. Elizabeth also pretended
friendship, and threatened the associated lords; but
as they had every reason to doubt her sincerity, they
paid no regard to her threats, and even refused to ad¬
mit her ambassador to Mary’s presence.
From all these appearances of friendship Mary nei¬
ther did nor could derive any real assistance. On the
24-th of July 1567, the lord Liudsajr, whose imperious
behaviour, says Dr Stuart, approached to insanity, was
ordered by the lords to wait on the queen at Loch-
leven. He carried with him three deeds or instruments,
and was instructed not to be sparing in rudeness and
menaces in order to compel her to subscribe them. By
the first, she was to resign her crown to her infant
son ; by the second, she appointed the earl of Murray
regent of Scotland; and by the third, she constituted
a council to direct the prince till this nobleman should
arrive in Scotland, or on the event of his death or re¬
fusal of the office. On the part of the queen all re¬
sistance was vain. Sir Robert Melvil assured her, that
her best friends were of opinion, that what she did by
compulsion, and in a prison, could have no power to
bind her; and of this she was also assured by Throg¬
morton, the English ambassador, in a letter which Sir
Robert Melvil brought in the scabbard of his sword.
Mary, therefore, forlorn and helpless, could not resist
the barbarous rudeness with which Lindsay, pressed
( onation the subscription of the papers, though she would not
c as. VI. reaj them. Five days after, the lords of the secret
council met at Stirling, for the coronation of the young
prince, and considered themselves as representing the
three estates of the kingdom. A protestation was made
in the name of the duke of Chatelherault, that this so¬
lemnity should neither prejudge his rights of succes¬
sion nor those of the other princes of the blood. The
young prince being presented to them, the lords Lind¬
say and Ruthven appeared, and in the name of the
queen renounced in his favour her right and title to the
crown, gave up the papers which she had subscribed,
and surrendered the sword, sceptre, and royal crown.
After the papers were read, the earls of Morton, Athol,
Glencairn, Mar, and Menteith, with the master of
Graham, the lord Hume, and Bothwel bishop of Ork¬
ney, received the queen’s resignation in favour of her
son in the name of the three estates. After this for¬
mality, the earl of Morton, bending his body, and lay¬
ing his hand on the Scriptures, took the coronation-
oath for the prince, engaging that he should rule ac¬
cording to the laws, and root out all heretics and ene¬
mies toW word of God- Adam Bothwel then anoint¬
ed the prince king of Scotland; a ceremony with which
John Knox was displeased, as believing it to be of Jew-
1
743
ish invention. The prelate next delivered to him the Scotland,
sword and the sceptre, and finally put the crown on his — v
head. In the procession to the castle from the church,
where the inauguration w^as performed, and where John
Knox preached the inauguration sermon, the earl of
Athol carried the crown, Morton the sceptre, Glen- 744
cairn the sword, and the earl of Mar carried the prince Dbap-
in his arms. These solemnities received no counte-
nance from Elizabeth; and Throgmorton, by her ex¬
press command, was not present at them. 745
Soon after this ceremony, the earl of Murray return- Murray re¬
ed from France; and his presence gave such a strength
and firmness to his faction, that very little opposition
could be given by the partisans of Mary, who were un¬
settled and desponding for want of a leader. A short 746
time after his arrival, this monstrous hypocrite and ^tptyy*ba
traitor waited on his distressed and insulted sovereign e
at Lochleven. His design was to get her to desire him Lochlevenj,
to accept of the regency, which he otherwise pretend¬
ed to decline. The queen, unsuspicious of the deep¬
ness of his arts, conscious of the gratitude he owed
her, and trusting to his natural affection, and their tie
of a common father, received him with a tender wel¬
come. She was in haste to pour forth her soul to him ;
and with tears and lamentations related her condition
and her sufferings. He heard her with attention : and
turned occasionally his discourse to the topics which
might lead her to open to him her mind without dis¬
guise in those situations in which he was most anxious
to observe it. His eye and his penetration were fully
employed ; but her distress awakened not his tender¬
ness. * He seemed to be in suspense; and from the
guardedness of his conversation she could gather nei¬
ther hope nor fear. She begged him to be free with
her, as he was her only friend. He yielded to her in¬
treaties as if with pain and reluctance; and taking a
comprehensive survey ol her conduct, described it w itli
all the severity that could affect her most. He could
discover no apology for her misgovernment and disoi-
ders; and, with a mortifying plainness, he pressed on
her conscience and her honour. At times she wept
bitterly. Some errors she confessed ; and against calum¬
nies she warmly vindicated herseif. But all she could
urge in her behalf made no impression on him; and he
spoke to her of the mercy of God as her chief refuge.
She was torn with apprehensions, and nearly distracted
with despair. He dropped some words of consolation ;
and after expressing an attachment to her interests,
o-ave her his promise to employ all his consequence to
secure her life. As to her liberty, be told ber, that to
achieve it, was beyond ail his efforts; and that it was
not good for her to desire it. Starting from her seat,
she took him in her arms, and kissing him as her de¬
liverer from the scaffold, solicited his immediate accep-
tance of the regency. He declared he bad many reasons
to refuse the regency. She imploreo anu conjui ed him tjuces jlcr.
not to abandon her in theextremity ofher wretchedness, to press
There was no other method, she said, by which she her- lam to ac
self could be saved, ber son protected, and her realm
rightly governed. He gave way to her anxiety and so¬
licitations. She besought him to make the most un¬
bounded use of her name and authority, desired him
to keep for ber the jewels that yet remained with her,
and recommended it to him to get an early possession
of all the forts of her kingdom. He now took his leave
oi.
728
SCO T I, A N D.
748
]\Iiseral)le
fate of
Bothwel.
Scotland. 0f her ; and, embracing anew tliis pioas traitor, she sent
her blessing with him to the prince her son.
In the mean time the wretched earl of Bothwel was
struggling with the greatest difficulties. Sir William
Murray and Kirkaldy of Grange had put to sea in
search of him. lie had been obliged to exercise piracy
in order to subsist himself and his followers. His pur¬
suers came on him unexpectedly at. the Orkney islands,
and took three of his ships; but he himself made his
escape. Soon after, having seized a Turkish trader on
the coast of Norway, two ships of war belonging to the
king of Denmark gave chase to him as a pirate. An
engagement ensued, in which Bothwel wras taken. His
officers and mariners were hanged in Denmark; but
Bothwel himself, being known by some Scottish mer¬
chants, had his life spared. He was thrown, however,
into a dungeon, where he remained ten years; and at
last died melancholy and distracted. The regent sent
commissioners to the king of Denmark to demand him
as a prisoner; but that prince considering him as a trai¬
tor and usurper, totally disregarded his request.
The dreadful fate of Bothwel did not make any al¬
teration in the situation of tfie queen. Her enemies,
bent on calumniating her, produced letters, which they
said were written and sent by her to that licentious
nobleman during the life of the king. These letters
are now generally admitted to have been forged by the
rebels themselves, who practised likewise on some ser¬
vants of Bothwel to accuse the queen of the murder
Bothwel °f °f her husband. The letters for some time gained
( L credit; but the confessions of the servants were all in
her favour. When on the scaffold, they addressed
themselves to the people; and after having solemnly
declared the innocence of the queen, they protested
before God and his angels, that the earl of Bothwel
had informed them that the earls of Murray and Mor¬
ton were the contrivers of the king’s murder.
It was impossible that such transactions could advance
the popularity of the regent. His unbounded ambition
and cruelty to his sovereign began at last to open the
eyes of the nation ; and a party was forming itself in
favour of the queen. She had been often meditating her
escape from prison; and she at last effected it by means
The queen Gf a young gentleman, George Douglas, brother to her
from prison keeper, who had fallen in love with her. On the 2d
An. 1568. day of May 1568, about seven o’clock in the evening,
Avhen her keeper was at supper with his family, George
Douglas, possessing himself of the keys of the castle,
hastened to her apartment, and conducted her out of
prison. Having locked the gates of the castle, they
immediately entered a boat which waited for them;
and being rowed across the lake, the lord Seton receiv¬
ed the queen with a chosen band of horsemen in com¬
plete armour. That night he conveyed her to his house
of Niddrie in West Lothian; where having rested a
few hours, she set out for Hamilton.
The escape of the queen threw her enemies into the
greatest consternation. Many forsook the regent open-
752 ly; and still more made their submissions privately, or
l:le.re.g„ent concealed themselves. He did not, however, despond ;
but resolved to defend himself by force of arms. The
queen soon found herself at the head of 6000 men, and
the regent opposed her with 4000. Mary, however,
did not think it proper to risk a battle; knowing the
capacity of the regent as a general, and that his officers
3
749
Letters
forged be¬
tween
Mary and
Bothwel.
750
executed
who de-
clare the
innocence
x>f the
queen.
751
army.
were all men of approved valour and experience. But Scotland.
in tliis prudent resolution she was overruled by the im-' '/•—
petuosity of her troops. A battle was fought on the
13th of May 1568, at Langside near Glasgow; inarnlJiL
which Mary’s army was defeated, and her last hopes feated at
blasted. The unfortunate queen fled towards Kirkcud- Hngside
bright; where finding a place of safety, she deliherat-ni;a' ^'as*
ed on the plan she should afterwards follow. The re-g°"‘
suit of her deliberations, as frequently happens in cases
of perplexity, led her to take the worst possible step.
Notwithstanding all the perfidy which she had found in
Elizabeth, Mary could not think that she would now 754
refuse to afford her a refuge in her dominions; and Sllei'c‘s0'ves
therefore determined to retire into England. To this
she had been solicited by Elizabeth during her confine-
ment in Lochleven castle; and she now resolved, in
opposition to the advice of her most faithful counsel¬
lors, to make the fatal experiment. 755
In obedience to her order, the lord Herries address- Pu*5
ed a letter to Mr Lauder, the deputy-commander atjn£X®**J1
Carlisle; and after detailing her defeat at Langside, tion.
desired to know if she might trust herself on English
ground. This officer wrote instantly an answer, in
which he said, that the lord Scroop the warden of the
frontiers being absent, he could not of his private au¬
thority give a formal assurance in a matter which con¬
cerned the state of a queen : but that he would send
by post to his court to know the pleasure of his sove¬
reign, and that if in the mean time any necessity should
force Mary to Carlisle, he would receive hnr with joy,
and protect her against her enemies. Mary, however,
before the messenger could return, had embarked in
a fishing boat with 16 attendants. In a few hours she
landed at Wirkington in Cumberland; and from thence
she proceeded to Cockermouth, where she continued
till Mr Lauder, having assembled the gentlemen of
the country, conducted her with the greatest respect
to the castle of Carlisle. 756
To Elizabeth she announced her arrival in a des-^"1^”^*
patch, which described her late misfortunes in general t0 Eliza-
and pathetic terms, and in which she expressed an ear-beth,
nest solicitude to pay her a visit at court, and the deep
sense she entertained of her friendship and generosity.
The queen of England, by obliging and polite letters,
condoled with her on her situation, and gave her assu¬
rances of all the favour and protection that were due to
the justice of her cause. But as they w ere not accom¬
panied with an invitation to London, Mary took the
alarm. She thought it expedient to instruct Lord Fle¬
ming to repair to France; and she intrusted Lord Her¬
ries with a most pressing remonstrance to Elizabeth. 757
Her anxiety for an interview in order to vindicate her
conduct, her ability to do so in the most satisfactoryjntervjew,
manner, and her power to explain the ingratitude, the
crimes, and the perfidy of her enemies, were urged to
this princess. A delay in the state of her affairs was re¬
presented as nearly equivalent to absolute destruction.
An immediate proof was therefore requested from Eli¬
zabeth of the sincerity of her professions. If she was
unwilling to admit into her presence a queen, a relation
and a friend, she was reminded, that as Mary’s entrance
into her dominions had been voluntary, her departure
ought to be equally free and unrestrained. She valued
the protection of the queen of England above that of
every other potentate on earth; but if it could not be
granted,
SCOT
otland. granted, she would solicit the amity, and implore the
' -v——' aid, of powers who would commiserate her afflictions,
and be forward to relieve them. Amidst remonstrances,
however, which were so just and natural, Mary did not
fail to give thanks to Elizabeth for the courtesy with
•which she had hitherto been treated in the castle of Car¬
lisle. She also took the opportunity of begging that this
princess would avert the cruelty of the regent from
her adherents, and engage him not to waste her king¬
dom with hostility and ravages ; and she had the pru¬
dence to pay her compliments in an affectionate letter
to Secretary Cecil, and to court his kind offices in ex¬
tricating her from her difficulties and troubles.
But the queen of England was not to he moved by
remonstrances. The voluntary offer of Mary to plead
758 her cause in the presence of Elizabeth, and to satisfy
] ibera- all her scruples, wras rejected. Her disasters were
] a matter rather of exultation than of pity. The deli-
a! her berations of the English queen, and those of her statcs-
s esmen men, were not directed by maxims of equity, of com-
c eerning passion, or of generosity. They considered the flight
.qry- of Mary into England as an accident that was fortunate
and favourable to them ; and they wrere solicitous to
adopt those measures which might enable them to draw
from it the greatest profit and advantage. If the queen
of Scots were allowed to return to her own dominions,
it was probable that she would soon be in a condition to
destroy the earl of Murray and his faction, who were
the friends of England. The house of Hamilton, who
w’ere now zealous in the interests of France, would rise
to consideration and power. England would be kept
in perpetual broils on the frontiers ; Ireland would re¬
ceive molestation from the Scots, and its disturbances
grow important and dangerous. Mary would renew
with redoubled ardour her designs against the Protestant
religion ; and a French army would again be introduced
into Scotland. For these reasons, Elizabeth and her
ministers determining not to restore the queen of Scots
to her throne, considered what might be the probable
consequences of permitting her to remain at liberty in
England. In this situation, she would augment the
number of her partisans, send her emissaries to every
quarter, and inculcate her title to the crown. Foreign
ambassadors would afford her aid, and take a share in
her intrigues ; and Scotland, where there was so high
an object to be gained, would enter with cordiality
into her views. This plan being also hazardous, it was
deliberated whether the queen of Scots might not be
allowed to take a voyage to France. But all the pre¬
tensions which had hitherto threatened the crown of
Elizabeth would in this case be revived. A strong re¬
sentment to her would even urge Mary and Charles IX.
to the boldest and most desperate enterprises. The party
of the queen of Scots in England, strong from motives
of religion and affection, and from discontents and the
love of change, would stimulate their anger and ambi¬
tion. England had now no territories in France. A
war with that country and with Scotland would involve
the greatest dangers. On revolving these measures and
f CJ^e' . topics, Elizabeth and her counsellors were induced to
» iineher.conclude, that it was by far the wisest expedient to
keep the queen of Scots in confinement, to invent me¬
thods to augment her distress, to give countenance to
the regent, and to hold her kingdom in dependence and
subjection.
Vol. XVIIL Part II.
LAND. 729
In consequence of this cruel and unjust resolution, Scotland.
Mary was acquainted, that she could not be admitted v——'
to Elizabeth’s presence till she had cleared herself ofF5J^° (
the crimes imputed to her; she was warned not to think ^
of introducing French troops into Scotland ; 'and it was admit the
hinted, that for the more security she ought to be re-(lueerl ffito
moved further from the frontier. This message at once her ,pre~
showed Mary the imprudence of her conduct in trustingStllL'"
herself to Elizabeth. But the error could not now be
remedied. She was watched to prevent her escape, and
all her remonstrances were vain. The earl of Murray
had offered to accuse her ; and it was at last concluded
that Elizabeth could not, consistently with her own ho¬
nour and the tranquillity of her government, suffer the
queen of Scots to come into her presence, to depart
out of England, or to be restored to her dignity, till 761
her cause should be tried and decided. An order was Mary l<i
given to remove her from Carlisle castle to a place off^rnC-ar-
strength at a greater distance from the borders, to con-iis]e, and
fine her more closely, and to guard against all possi-closely
bility of an escape. guarded.
In consequence of these extraordinary transactions,
a trial took place, perhaps the most remarkable for its
injustice and partiality of any recorded in history. Mary,
confined and apprehensive, submitted to be tried as they
thought proper. The regent, who was to be the accu¬
ser, was summoned into England, and commissioners 750
were appointed on both sides. On the 4th of October, Coinmr-
the commissioners met at York ; and, four days after,s’oncr.s for
the deputies of the queen of Scots were called to make1r^eereirat!
known their complaints. They related the most mate- York,
rial circumstances of the cruel usage she had received.
Their accusations were an alarming introduction to the
business in which the regent had embarked ; and not¬
withstanding the encouragement shown to him by Eli¬
zabeth, he was assailed by apprehensions. The arti- 755
fices of Maitland added to his alarms. Instead of pro- Infamous
ceeding instantly to defend himself, or to accuse thcliehavI0ur
queen, he sought permission to relate his doubts andof aAUrraJr*
scruples to the English commissioners. In his own
name, and with the concurrence of his associates, he de¬
manded whether they had sufficient authority from Eli ¬
zabeth to pronounce, in the case of the murder, Guilty
or not guilty, according to the evidence that should be
laid before them ; whether they would actually exercise
this power ; whether, in the event of her criminality,
their sovereign should be delivered to him and his
friends, or detained in England in such a way as that
no danger should ensue from her activity; and whether,
on her conviction, the queen of England would allow
his proceedings, and those of his party, to be proper,
maintain the government of the young king, and sup-
port him in the regency in the terms of the act of par¬
liament which had confirmed him in that office. To
these requisitions, it was answered, on the part of the
English deputies, that their commission was so ample,
that they could enter on and proceed hi the controver¬
sy ; and that they had liberty to declare, that their so¬
vereign would not restore the queen of Scots to her
crown, if satisfactory proofs of her crime should be pro¬
duced ; but that they knew not, and were not instruct¬
ed to say, in what manner she would finally conduct
herself as to her person and punishment. With regard
to the sovereignty of the prince, and the regency of the
earl of Murray, they were points, they'observed, which
t 4 Z might
SCOTLAND.
136
Scotland, might be canvassed at a future period. These rt'plies
' v 1 did not please the regent and his associates ; and they
requested the English commissioners to transmit -their
doubts and scruples to be examined and answered by
Elizabeth.
But while the regent discovered in this manner his
apprehensions, he yet affirmed that he was able to an¬
swer the charges brought against him and his faction ;
and this being iii a great measure a matter distinct from
the controvery respecting the murder, he was desired
Hisaccusa- to proceed. It was contended, that Bothwel, who had
tion against the chief concern in the murder of lord Darnley, pos-
•Mary, sessed such credit with the queen, that within three
months after that horrible event, he seized her person,
and led her captive to Dunbar, obtained a divorce from
his wife, and married her : that the nobility, being mo¬
ved with his crimes, did confederate to punish him ; to
relieve her from the tyranny of a man who had ravished
her, and who could not he her husband; and to preserve
the life of the prince-: that having taken arms for these
purposes, the earl marched against them ; hut that, pro¬
posing to decide the quarrel by single combat, his chal¬
lenge was accepted : that he declined to enter the lists,
and fled : that the queen, preferring his impunity to her
own honour, favoured his escape by going over to the
nobility : that they conducted her to Edinburgh, where
they informed her of the motives of their proceedings,
requested her to take the proper steps against him and
the other regicides, and intreated her to dissolve her
pretended marriage, to take care of her son, and to con¬
sult the tranquillity of her realm : that this treatment
being offensive to her, she menaced them with ven¬
geance, and offered to surrender her crown if they
would permit her to possess the murderer of her husband:
that her indexible mind, and the necessities of the state,
compelled them to keep her at a distance from him, and
out of the way of a communication with his adherents :
that during her confinement, finding herself fatigued
with the troubles of royalty, and unfit for them from
vexation of spirit and the weakness of her body and in¬
tellect,- she freely and of her own will resigned her
crown to her son, and constituted the earl of Murray
regent ; that the king accordingly had been crowned,
and Murray admitted to the regency ; that the sanction
of the three estates assembled in parliament having con¬
firmed these appointments, an universal obedience of
the people had ensued, and a steady administration of
justice had taken place: that certain persons, however,
envious of the public peace and order, had brought her
•\Out of prison, and had engaged to subvert the govern¬
ment ; that they had been disappointed in their wicked
attempts ; and that it wras most just and equitable, that
the king and the regent should be supported in power,
in opposition to a rebellious and turbulent faction,
confuted This apology, so imperfect, so impudent, and so ir-
by the de- reconcileable with history, received a complete confu-
imties ot tation from the deputies of the queen of Scots. To
take arms against her because Bothwel had her favour,
was, they said, a lame justification of the earl of Mur¬
ray and his friends; since it had never been properly
manifested to her that he was the murderer of her hus¬
band. He had indeed been suspected of this crime ;
but had been tried by his peers, and acquitted. His
acquittal had been ratified in parliament, and had ob¬
tained the express approbation of the party who were
1
now so loud in accusing him, and vcho'had-conspired Scotbi?4
against her authority. These rebels had even.urged —v”*-
her to accomplish her marriage with him, had recom¬
mended him as the fittest person to govern the realm,
and had subscribed a bond asserting his innocence, and
binding themselves to challenge and punish ail his ad¬
versaries and opponents. They had never, either before
or after the marriage, like true subjects, advertised
the queen of his guilt, till, having experience of their
strength, they secretly took arms, and invested her in
Borthwick castle. The first mark of their displeasure
was the sound of a trumpet in hostility, and the dis¬
play of warlike banners. She made her escape to Dun¬
bar ; and they returning to Edinburgh, levied troops,
issued proclamations, took the field against her, under
pretence of delivering her from his tyranny, and got
possession of her person. She was willing to prevent
the effusion of blood, and was very far from preferring
his impunity to her honour. Kirkaldy of Grange,
in obedience to instructions from them, desired her
to cause him to retire, and invited her to pass to them
under the promise of being served and obeyed as
their sovereign. She consented, and Kirkaldy taking
Bothwel by the hand, recommended it to him to de¬
part, and assured him that no man would pursue him.
It was by their own contrivance that he fled ; and it
was in their power to have taken him : but they show¬
ed not the smallest desire to make him their prison¬
er. lie remained, too, for some time in the kingdom,
and was unmolested by them ; and it was not till he
was on the seas that they affected to go in search of
him. When she surrendered herself in the sight of
their army, the earl of Morton ratified the stipulations
of Kirkaldy, made obeisance to her in their names,,
and promised her all the service and honour which had
ever been paid to any of her predecessors. They were
not slaves’, however, to their engagements. They car¬
ried her to Edinburgh, but did not lodge her in her
palace. She was committed to the house of a burgess,
and treated with the vilest indignities. She indeed
broke out into menaces, and threatened them ; nor was
this a matter either of blame or of wonder. But it was
utterly false that she had ever made any offer of giving
away her crown, if she might possess Bothwel. In the
midst of her sufferings, she had even required them by
Secretary Maitland to specify their complaints, and be¬
sought them to allow her to appear in parliament, and
to join and assist in seeking a remedy to them from the
wisdom of the three estates. This overture, however,
so salutary and submissive, they absolutely rejected.—
They were animated by purposes of ambition, and had
not in view a redress of grievances. They forced heD
from her capital in the nigV, and imprisoned her in
Lochleven ; and there, they affirm, being exhausted
with the toils of government and the languors of sick¬
ness, she, without constraint or solicitation, resigned her
crown to her son, and appointed the earl of Murray to-
be regent during his minority. This indeed was to
assume an unlimited power over facts ; but the truth
could neither be concealed, subverted, nor palliated.
She was in the vigour of youth, unassailed by maladies,
and without any infirmity that could induce her to sur¬
render the government of her kingdom. Nor w-as.it
unknown to them that the earl of Athol and the ba¬
rons Tullibardin and Lethington, principal men of their
council,
SCOT LAN D.
cQilaml council, dc^oatclieu' Sif llobcrt'Melvil to her with a
ring and presents,- with a recbmaiendation to subscribe
whatever })apers should be laid before her, as the only
means in hen power to.saveher life* and with an assurance
thiU what she did under captivity could not operate to
her injury. 'Melvil, too, communicated to her an in¬
timation in '.writing- from Sir. Nicholas Throgmorton,
which gave h.cr the same advice and thesame assurance.
To Sir Nicholas Throgmorton she-sent an answer, in¬
forming- him that she would follow;his counsel; and en-
joiningdiim to tleclare to his mistress her-hapless state,
und that her resignation of her crown was constrained.
Nor did tliis,ambassador neglect her cominission : audit
was a popular persuasion that Elizabeth would have
marched an army to her relief, if she had not been inti-
midatfcd by the threats of the rebels, that the blood of
■the queen of Scots would be the wages of her soldiers.
It was also not to be contradicted, that when the lord
Lindsay presented to his sovereign the instruments of
resignation, he menaced her with a closer prison and a
■speedy death if she should refuse to subscribe them. It
was under an-extreme terror, and with many, tears, that
-she. put her name to them. She did not consider them
as her deeds ; did not read them ; and protested, that
when she was at liberty, shewould disavow subscriptions
which had been extorted from her. Even Douglas, the
keeper of Lochleven, could not endure to be a witness
of the violence employed against her. He departed out
of her presence, that he might not see her surrender her
rights against her will; and he sought and obtained
from her a certificate,, that he was not accessory to this
compulsion and outrage.. Nor was it consistent with the
.slightest probability or reason, that she would, of her
own accord, execute a resignation of her royal estate,
and retain no provision for her future maintenance.
Yet by these extraordinary deeds, the condition to
which she was reduced was most miserable and wretch¬
ed. For no portion of her revenue wtis reserved to her,
and no security of any kind was granted either for her
liberty or .her life. As to the coronation of the prince,
. it could have no, validity, being founded in a pretended
and forced resignation. It was also defective in form ;
for there were in Scotland more than a hundred earls,
bishops, and lords ; and of these the whole, or at least
the major part, ought to concur in matters of import¬
ance. Now there did not assist in it more than four
earls, six lords, one bishop, and two or three abbots.
Protestations, too, were openly made, that nothing tran¬
sacted at that period should be of any prejudice to the
queen, her estate, and the Wood-royal of Scotland,
iieither could it be rightly conceived, that if the queen
had willingly surrendered her dignities, she would have
named the earl of Murray to the regency in preference
to the duke of Chatelherault, who had a natural and
proper claim to it, and who had deserved well of her
r .country by discharging that high office during her mi¬
nority. As to the ratification of the investiture of the
young prince, and the regency of the earl of Murray, by
the estates, it was observable, that this was done in an
illegal parliament. It was an invalid confirmation of
deeds which in themselves had no inherent power or
efficacy. The principal nobility, too. objected in this
parliament to this ratification. Protestations were made
before theHords of the articles, as well as before the
- three estates, to interrupt and defeat transactions which
were hostile to the constitution and th.e laws. Nor
was it true that the, government of the king and the
regent was universally obeyed, and administered with
equity and approbation : for a great division of the no¬
bility never acknowledged any authority but that of the
queen, and never held any courts but in her name ; and
it was notorious, that, the administration of the usurpers
had been marked and distinguished by enormous cruel¬
ties and oppressions. Many honourable families and
loyal subjects had been persecuted to ruin, and plunder¬
ed of their w-ealth, to gratify the retainers and soldiers
.who upheld this insolent domination; and murder and
bloodshed, theft and rapine, were prevalent to a degree
unheard of for many ages. > On all these accounts, it
inferred, that Elizabeth ought to support the
iol
Scotland.
766
queen of Scots, to restore her to her crown, and to
overthrow the power of a most unnatural and rebel¬
lious faction.
To these facts the regent did not pretend to make Tlie regent
any objection ; and though required by the English to
commissioners to produce better reasons Tor his treat-r<'py*
ment of the queen, he did not advance any thing in his
own behalf. He even allowed the charges of . treason,
and usurpation to be pressed against him, without pre¬
suming to answer. i his surprising behaviour, which
might readily have been construed into an acknowledg¬
ment of his guilt, it seems, proceeded from some confer-
.ences w hich he had had with the duke of Norfolk. This
nobleman,was a zealous partisan for die succession of
Mary to the,English crown. He was strongly possessed
with the opinion, that his mistress, while she was dis¬
posed to gratify her animosity and jealousies against the
queen of Scots, was secretly resolved, by fixing a stain
on her, to exclude her altogether from the succession,
and to involve her son in her disgrace. He was eager
to defeat a purpose, which he conceived to be not only
unjust in itself, but highly detrimental to his country.
.It was in his power to act. with tins view; and he. ob¬
served with pleasure, that Maitland ot Letivington, was
favourable to Mary. To this statesman, accordingly,
he ventured to- ex press his surprise, that the.regent could
be allured to think of an attempt so blameable as that
of criminating his sovereign. If Mary had really given
otfence by miscarriage and mistakes, it was no.t the busi¬
ness of a"good subject industriously to hold her out to
scorn. Anxious and repeated conferences were held
by them; and at length it was. formally agreed, that
the regent should not accuse the queen ot.tscots ; and
that the duke in return should protect him in the favour
of Elizabeth, and secure him in the possession of his re¬
But while the regent/engaged himself in this in¬
trigue with the duke ot Norfolk, he was desirous, not- ^ ^ ^ ^
withstanding, of' gratifying the resentments of I'jiza- and hypo-
beth, and of advancing bis ow n interests by undermin- t risy.
- ing secretly the fame and reputation of his sovereign,
e - He instructed Maitland, Georgelmcnanan, dames Mac-
pill, and John Wood, to go to the. .duke of Norfolk,
the earl of Sussex, and Sir Ralph Sadler, and to con -
municate to them as private persons, and not in their
character of commissioners, the letters to Bothvvel, and
the other proofs on which he .affirmed the guilt of
the queen oi Scots. It w'us Ins desire that thev should
examine these papers, .give then opinion of them to E-
lizabeth, and inform him whether she judged them suf-
4. Z 2 ficient
767
His ex¬
treme insi¬
diousness,
SCOT L A N T).
332
Scotland, ficient evidences of Mary’s concern in the murder of her
husband. If this should be her opinion, he testified his
vown readiness, and that of his associates, to swear that
the papers were genuine, am\ of the handwriting of
the queen. By this operation, he was solicitous to es-
tafolhh his vouchers as incontestable, and as testimonies
of record. The commissioners examined his papers, and
heard the comments of Buchanan and his other assist¬
ants ; but they do not seem to have given them much
credit. They described them, however, to Elizabeth;
pointed out the places of them which w’ere strongest
against Mary ; and allowed that their force and mean¬
ing were very great, if their genuineness could be de¬
monstrated. But of their genuineness they acknowr-
ledged that they had no other evidence than stout as¬
sertions, and the offer of oaths. The earl of Sussex, in
a private despatch to Secretary Cecil, does more than
* Robert- insinuate, '* that he thought Mary would be able to
sonof^Dal-prove the letters palpable forgeries; and with respect
s to the murder of the king, he declares, in plain terms,
book ^iat from all he could learn, Murray and his faction
would, on a judicial trial, be found by “ proofs hardly
to be denied, ” more criminal in that charge than the
queen herself. Elizabeth and her ministers, on the re¬
ceipt of such despatches, did not think it expedient to
empower them to adopt a method of proof so palpably
suspicious, and in which she could not openly concur,
without grossly violating even the appearance of probity.
The regent had before attempted to engage her in a
direct assurance of the validity of his papers, when he
submitted copies of them to her inspection by his se¬
cretary Mr Wood. His attempt at this juncture was
of a similar kind ; and it could not recommend him to
the English commissioners.
Nor vrere these the only transactions which took
place during the continuance of the commissioners at
York. The inventive and refining genius of Lething-
ten had suggested to him a project, which he commu¬
nicated in confidence to the bishop of Ross. It receiv¬
ed the warm approbation of this ecclesiastic ; and they
determined to put it to a trial. While they attended
the duke of Norfolk to the diversion of hawking, they in¬
sinuated the notion of his allying himself with the queen
of Scots. Her beauty, her accomplishments, and her
kingdom, were high allurements to this nobleman; and
as he was the greatest subject of England, and perhaps
of Europe, he seemed not to be unworthy of them.
The proposal was very flattering to the admiration he
entertained of Mary, to his ambition, and to his patriot¬
ism. The more he thought of it, he was the more con¬
vinced of its propriety. His access to be informed of
the practices of the regent, destroyed in him the opei*a-
tion of those slanders by which her enemies were so
active in traducing her. In this state of his mind, the
lady Scroop, his sister, who resided at Bolton Castle
with Mary, completely confirmed his resolution. For
from her he learned the orderly carriage and tire ami-
ble dispositions of the queen of Scots. He w'as now
impatient to have a fit season to make her formally the
offer of his hand.
Elizabeth in the mean time was thrown into confu¬
sion by the refusal of the regent to accuse the queen
of Scots. To give a positive answer to his doubts and
samples was not consistent with her honour; and yet
without this condescension, she was assured that the
Scottish deputies would not exhibit their charge of cri- Scotland
mination. Having deceived Mary therefore with fair
promises, she was active in gaining over the regent to
her views ; which having done, he at last consented to
prefer his accusation against Mary before the commis¬
sioners, who now met at Westminster by the command ygg
of Elizabeth. The charge was expressed in general and Articles of
presumptive terms. It affirmed, that as James earl oftfie queen’
Bothwel was the chief executor of the murder of KingaccUbatlon'
Henry, so the queen was his persuader and counsel in
the device; that she was a maintainer and fortifier of
this unnatural deed, by stopping an enquiry into it
and preventing its punishment, and by taking in mar¬
riage the principal regicide ; that they had begun to
exercise a cruel tyranny in the commonwealth, and had
formed a resolution of destroying the innocent prince,
and of transferring the crown from the true line of its
kings to a bloody murderer and a godless tyrant; and
that the estates of the realm, finding her unworthy of
reigning, had ordered her to resign the crown, her son
to be crowned, and the earl of Murray to be established
in the regency. Before this accusation was preferred,
the earl of Lenox preset ted himself before the English
commissioners; made a lamentable declaration of his
gi’iefs, and produced to them the letters which had
passed between him and Mary concerning the murder,
with a writing which contained a direct affirmation of
her guilt. 769
The deputies of Mary were astonished at this accusa- Remon-
tion, being a violent infringement of a protestation which ^ni!^c®^0
they had formerly given in, and which had been accept-[lepUtieSi
ed, namely, that the crown, estate, person, and honour
of the queen of Scots, should be guarded against every
assault and injury ; yet in all these particulars she was
touched and affected. It was understood that no judi¬
cial proceedings should take place against her; yet she
was actually arraigned as a criminal, and her deputies
were called on to defend her. They discovered not,
however, any apprehension of the validity of the charge;
and while they fully explained the motives which actu¬
ated the earl of Murray and his faction in their proceed^
ings, they imputed to persons among themselves the
guilt of the king’s murder. They affirmed, that the
queen’s adversaries were the accomplices of Bothwel;
that they had subscribed a bond conspiring the death of
the king; and that their guilt bad been attested in the
sight of 10,000 spectators, by those of their confederates
who had already been executed. They exclaimed a-
gainst the enormous ingratitude, and the unparalleled
audacity of men, who could forget so completely all
the obligations which they owed to their sovereign ;
and wffio, not satisfied with usurping her power, could
even charge her with a murder which they themselves
had committed. They represented the strong necessity
which had arisen for the fullest vindication of their mis¬
tress ; and they said, that in so weighty an extremity,
they could not possibly suppose that she would be re¬
strained from appearing in her own defence. They had
her instructions, if her honour was touched, to make
this requisition ; and till it was granted, they insisted,
that all proceedings in the conference should be at an
end. A refusal of this liberty, in the situation to which
she was driven, would be an infallible proof that no
good was intended her. It was their wish to deal
with sincerity and uprightness x and they were persuad-
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, ed, that without a proper freedom of defence, their
■—v—queen would necessarily fall a victim to partiality and
injustice. They therefore earnestly pressed the Eng¬
lish commissioners, that she might lie permitted to pre¬
sent herself before Elizabeth, the nobles of England,
and the ambassadors of foreign nations, in order to ma¬
nifest to the world the injuries she had suffered, and her
innocence.
After having made these spirited representations to
770 the English commissioners, the deputies of Mary de-
They are sired to have access to the queen of England. They
idmitted towere admitted accordingly to an audience; and in a
formal address or petition they defrailetl what had hap-
pened, insisted that the liberty of personal defence
should be allowed to their mistress, and demanded that
the earl of Murray and his associates should be taken
into custody, till they should answer to such charges
as might be preferred against them. She desired to
have some time to turn her thoughts to matters of
such great importance ; and told them, that they might
771 soon expect to hear from her.
md make The bishop of Ross, and the other deputies of Mary,
>roposalsofjn the mean time, struck with the perfidious manage-
latienln0' ment the conference, convinced of the jealousies and
passions of Elizabeth, sensible that her power over her
commissioners was unlimited, and anxious for the de¬
liverance of their mistress, made an overture for an ac¬
commodation to the earl of Leicester and Sir William
Cecil. They proposed, that the original meaning of
the conference should still be adhered to, notwithstand¬
ing the accusation which had been presented by the earl
of Murray ; and that Elizabeth, disregarding it as an
effort of faction, should come to a good agreement with
Mary and her subjects. For this scheme, which is so
expressive of their suspicions of Elizabeth and of her
commissioners, theyhadnoauthorityfrom their mistress.
They acknowledged accordingly, that it was made with¬
out her instructions, and intimated that they were moved
to it by their anxiety for peace and the re-establishment
of the affairs of the Scottish nation. They were intro¬
duced at Hampton-court to Elizabeth; w ho listened
to their motion, and was averse to it. They then re¬
peated the desires of the petition they had presented to
her; but she did not think it right that the queen of
Scots should as yet have the liberty of defending herself
in person. She confessed, indeed, that it was reasonable
772 that Mary should be heard in her own cause; but she
shameful affirmed, that she was at a loss at what time she should
onduct of appear, in what place, and to whom she should address
Elizabeth, herself. While she let fall, however, the hope that
Mary might obtain the permission so repeatedly and so
earnestly requested, she expressed her resolution that the
earl of Murray should first be heard in support of his,
charge, and that she should attend to the proofs which
he affirmed himself in readiness to produce. After this
business should be transacted, she told the deputies of
Mary that she wmuld again confer with them. It was
to no purpose that they objected to a procedure so
strange and so improper. An accusation, said they, is
given; the person accused is anxious to defend herself;
this privilege is denied her ; and yet a demand is to be
made for the vouchers of her guilt. W hat is this but
an open violation of justice ? It did not become them
to dispute her pleasure in her owm dominions : but they
would not, they informed her, consent to a, measure
723
which was so alarming to the interests of their queen ; Scotland.
and if it was adopted, she might expect that a protest1 J
against its validity would be lodged wuth her commis¬
sioners.
The English commissioners resumed the conference, Altercation
and were about to demand from the earl of Murray between
the proofs with which he could support his accusation. t!l.e t;oin-
The bishop of Ross and his associates being admitted m ,s’c‘iu '
to them, expressed themselves in conformity to the con¬
versation they had held with Elizabeth. They de¬
clared, that it was unnatural and preposterous in their
sovereign to think of receiving proofs of the guilt of the
queen of Scots before she was heard in her own de¬
fence ; and they protested, that in the event of this
proceeding, the negociation should be dissolved, and'
Elizabeth be disarmed of all power to do any prejudice
to her honour, person, crown, and estate. The com¬
missioners of the English queen were affected with this
protestation, and felt more for the honour of their mis¬
tress than for their own. They refused to receive it,
because there wTere engrossed in it the words of the
refusal which Elizabeth had given to the petition for
Mary. They did not choose to authenticate the terms-
of this refusal by their subscriptions ; and were solici¬
tous to suppress so palpable a memorial of her iniquity..
They alleged, that the language of her refusal had not
been taken down with accuracy; and they pressed
Mary’s deputies to present a simpler form of protesta¬
tion. The bishop of Ross and his colleagues yielded
not, however, immediately to their insidious importu¬
nity ; but, repeating anew their protestation as they
had at first planned it, included the express words of
Elizabeth ; and, when compelled by the power of the
commissioners to expunge the language of the English
queen, they still insisted on their protestation. An in¬
terruption was thus given to the validity of any future
proceedings which might affect the reputation of the
queen of Scots. The earls of Murray and Morton,
with their friends, were very much disappointed. For
they had solaced themselves with the hope of a triumph
before there was a victory ; and thought of obtaining
a decree from Elizabeth, which, while it should pro¬
nounce the queen of Scots to be an adulteress and a
murderer, would exalt them to the station and charac¬
ter of virtuous men and honourable subjects. 774
Though the conference ought naturally to have ter-Elizabeth
minated on this protestation of the deputies of Mary demands
against the injustice of Elizabeth, yet it did not satisfy
the latter princess that the accusation only had been lai(110 ^
delivered to her commissioners : she was seriously dis- ry’s charge,
posed to propose a judicial production of its vouchers.
The charge would thus have a more regular aspect, and
be a sounder foundation on which to build, not only
the infamy of the Scottish queen, but her own justifica¬
tion for the part she had acted. Her commissioners ac¬
cordingly, after the bishop of Ross and his colleagues
had rethed, disregarding their protestation, called on
the earl of Murray and his associates to make their ap¬
pearance. The pretence, however, employed for draw-
ino- from him his papers was sufficiently artful, and bears
the marks of that systematic duplicity which so shame¬
fully characterizes all the transactions of Elizabeth at
this period. Sir Nicholas Bacon the lord keeper ad¬
dressed himself to the earl of Murray. He said, that, in
the opinion of the queen of England, it was a matter
strange.
S C 0 T L A N D.
tl'i'at'W should accuse his. so-
^—-vi^' vefeigri of a crime nlost horrible, odious to God and
man, agahrst larv and nature; .aud which, if proved to
be true, would render her infamous through all the
kingdoms of the world.*'’'But: though he bad' so wide¬
ly forgotten his duty, yet Elizabeth had not renounc¬
ed her love of a good sister, a good neighbour, and a
good Friendand it was her will that lie and his com¬
pany should produce the papers by which they ima¬
gined they were able to maintain their accusation. The
earl of Murray, in his turn was not wanting in dissi-
mutation. He expressed himself to be very sorry for
the high displeasure he had given to Elizabeth by his
charge against Mary; and for the obstinacy of the Scot¬
tish queen and her deputies, which made it necessary
for him to vindicate himself by discovering her disho¬
nour. Under the load of this double and affected Sor¬
row’, he made an actual and formal exhibition of the
vouchers by which he pretended to fix and establish her
criminality. A particular account and examination of
these vouchers, the reader will find in our life of Mary,
775 and the works to which we have there referred.
Conclusion To enumerate all the shifts to which Elizabeth and
trial* ^ie a^versar*es Mary were put, in order to make the
An. 1569. stl'ange evidence that was produced wear some degree
of plausibility, would far exceed our bounds. It is suf¬
ficient to say, that after having wearied themselves with
prevarication and falsehood; after having pressed Mary
toabdicate her crown, a requisition with which she never
would comply; and after having finally refused to hear
her in her own defence ; Elizabeth, on the 10th of
January 1569, gave leave to the earl of Murray and
his accomplices to depart her dominions; telling them,
1 that since they came into England, nothing had been
objected to them which could hurt their honour as
men, or affect their allegiance as subjects. At the same
time she told them, that they had produced no infor¬
mation or evidence by which she was entitled to con¬
ceive any bad opinion of the queen of Scots. It was
therefore her pleasure to allow the affairs of Scotland
to continue precisely in the condition in which they
were situated at the beginning of the conference. Three
days after this, they formally took their leave of the
queen of England. The deputies of Mary remonstrat¬
ed. protested, and argued, to no purpose; the English
privv-cduncil, with the most provoking indifference,
told them, that “ the earl of Murray had pronnsed -to
their sovereign, for himself and his company, to return
to England at any time she should call on him. But,
in the mean time, the queen of Scots could not, for
many strong reasons, he permitted to take her depar¬
ture out of England. As to her deputies, they would
move Elizabeth to allow them to return to Scotland ;
and they believed that she would not detain them. ”
Mary was exceedingly disappointed and chagrined
by this singular issue of her cause. Her friends during
this period had increased, and the cruel and injurious
treatment she had met with was so flagrant, that the
earl of Murray and his faction were apprehensive of a
sudden reverse of fortune The earls of Argyle and
Huritly prot ested against the injustice of their proceed¬
ings, at the same time that they openly accused the earl
of Murray and Maitland of Lethington as the associates
.of Bothwel in the murder of the king. This charge,
according'td* the custom of the times, they offered to
iinement.
776
77G
Earl of
Murray, .
&c. char¬
ged with
the king’s
murder,
and chal¬
lenged to
single coin-
Uafc.
•prove-as true and certain'by-thelaw of arms; and they -Scotland,
‘protested, that if their adversaries should delay to an- —y—J
swer their challenge, they should be held as confess¬
ing themselves guilty of the murder. Elizabeth, how¬
ever, foreseeing something of this kind, had dismissed
Murray and his adherents with precipitation, so that
there could now be no formal production of it before the
English commissioners. It was known and published,
however, in the -court of Elizabeth. Murray made an
evasive reply, and Lethington made none at all.
This, however, afforded no relief to the unhappy yiJj com<i
queen of Scotland. Her inveterate and treacherousmitted to
enemy held her fast, and endeavoured by every method t;'0sL'r (,m-
in her power to render her life miserable. Mary, on1
the other hand, lost neither her spirit nor her dig¬
nity. She attempted to rouse in the minds of her nobles
that passion for liberty which had once so much distin¬
guished the Scottish nation, but which now seemed to
be exchanged for a servile subjection to the queen of
1 England. But some despatches which urged these to¬
pics being intercepted, Mary was removed from Bolton
to Tutbury castle, where she was intrusted to the earl
of Shrewsbury, and committed to closer confinement
than she had yet experienced ; while Elizabeth dispers¬
ed manifestoes all over the northern counties of Eng¬
land, complaining of reports injurious to her honour,
and disclaiming all hostile intentions towards the li¬
berties of Scotland.
In the mean time Murray returned to ' Scotland, The re-
where he took every method of establishing himself in gent se-
his ill acquired power. Mary had commanded the.duke cur,"shm>
of Chafrelherault to return to Scotland, in order t Or raise
forces-for her advantage; but this nobleman had been1
■so long detained in England by the artifices of Eliza¬
beth, that Murray had arrived there before him. The
. duke, however, began ■ to-raise-forces, and might have
■ proved a troublesome antagonist, had not Murray de¬
ceived him by a pretended ncgociadon, and got him
into his power ; immediately after which he imprison¬
ed him, and forced most of the other lords who were
on that side to submit.
'When- the news of this important event reached the
queen of Scots, she instructed the bishop‘of Ross-to re- 770
pair to Elizabeth, and to make remonstrances--in their Nrgocia*
behalf. By the agency of this ecdcsiastic, whom she a,)1|S in
had constituted her ambassador, she meant to comluct ^n^an^*
her transactions with the queen of England;- and-from
the conclusion of the conferences, she had been medi¬
tating a proper plan on which to accomplish her liberty
and restoration. The bishop of Ross, after complain¬
ing loudly of the rigorous proceedings of the regent,
■ and intimating the general belief which prevailed that
he was supported by the English court, pressed the pro¬
priety of a final settlement of the affairs of his mistress.
With this view, he was admitted by Elizabeth and her
privy-counsel iors to frequent conferences; and they even
desired him to present to them in writing the articles
which he was commanded to propose as the foundation
of a treaty. He failed not to comply with this injunc¬
tion ; and it was the import of his schedule of agree¬
ment, that Mary should engage never to molest Eliza¬
beth, and the lawful heirs of her body, respecting the
succession to the crown of England and Ireland, if she
could obtain sufficient security that on their demise her
rights would be respected; that a new treaty of alliance
f and
SCO TLA n:b.
735
Scotland, and friendship should be concluded between the two
'“—■v*"-*' queens, by the advice of the estates of both kingdoms ?
that this league should be ratiSed by their oaths and
seals, and confirmed by parliamentary acts-; and, if any
farther assurance should be deemed necessary on the
part of Mary, that she would procure the kings of
France and Spain to be the guarantees of her punctu*
ality and concord ; that in compliance with the plea¬
sure of Elizabeth, she would extend her clemency to
all her subjects who had offended her, under the pro¬
vision that they would submit to her sovereignty, de¬
liver up the prince her son, restore her castles, give back
her jewels, and surrender to her friends and servants
the estates and possessions of which they had been de¬
prived ; that the murder of the king should be punished
against all the actors in it without delay, and according
to the lawrs; that to prevent Bothwel from returning to
Scotland, and to please those who imagined that it was
in his power to excite ferments and trouble, she would
be bound to institute a process of divorce against him ;
and that these articles being adjusted, the queen of
England should allow her to proceed to Scotland, un¬
der a safe and honourable convoy, to he re-established
by the three estates in her realm and government, and
to be gratified with the dissolution of all the acts and
780 statutes which had been passed to her prejudice.
Advances These heads of alliance were received with a respect
arc yiaoe an(j cordiality which were not usually paid to the trans-
in tiie pro- . ^ , •» - .
jeefed ,nar.actions of Mary in the court ot Elizabeth ; and. the
i-isge of bishop of Ross was elated with expectation. Their jus-
Mary with^tice, however, was not the sole, or even the chief, cause
Norfolk6 010^' attention and complaisance, A combination of
the English nobles had taken place against Cecil, whose
power and credit were objects of indignation and jea¬
lousy; and the duke of Norfolk had been active and
successful in promoting the scheme of his marriage with
the queen of Scots. Taking advantage of the condi¬
tion of parties, he had practised with the principal no¬
bility to encourage his pretensions to Mary ; and he
secretly communicated to them the promises of support
he had received from the earl of Murray, By the ad¬
vice and influence* of Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, he en¬
gaged in his behalf the earl of Leicester ; and this
nobleman imparted the matter to the earls of Pem¬
broke and Arundel. The duke himself was able to
conciliate the favour of the earls of Derby, Bedford,
Shrewsbury, Southampton, Northampton, Northumber¬
land, Westmoreland, and Sussex. In the mean time,
he was eagerly pressing Mary herself with his suit and
importunities ; and had mutually exchanged the tokens
of a constant and sincere love. It was in this forward
state of the match, that the bishop of Ross drew up
the schedule of articles for the accommodation of the
rival queens.
At the desire of Elizabeth, her privy-council confer-
propose ar rcc^ " the bishop on these articles at different times ;
tides to and they expressed themselves highly pleased with their
general import. Little doubt was entertained of their
success ; and the earl of Leicester, in order to complete
the business, and to serve the duke of Norfolk, under¬
took to give them a more special force, and to improve
them by the introduction of a stipulation about the
marriage of the queen of Scots. According to his
scheme of agreement, it was required of Mary, that
she should be a party to no attempt against the rights
781
The Eng¬
lish nobles
Mary.
and f ides of the ..queen of England, or her heirs.; that Scotland,
she should consents to a perpetual league,. offensive and ——y-—j
defensive, between the two kingdoms ; that site should
finally establish the Protestant religion in Scotland.;
that she should admit to her favour those of her sub¬
jects who had appeared against her; that if she had
made any assignment of her kingdom, to the duke of
Anjou, in the expectation of a marriage to be contract¬
ed between them, it should be dissolved ; and that in¬
stead of looking to a foreign, prince, whose alliance
would be dangerous, not only to the religion but to the
liberty of the two realms, she would agree to marry the
duke of Norfolk, the first peer of England. These ar¬
ticles being communicated, to the bishop of Ross, he
was desired to transmit them to Mary; but as they
touched on some points concerning which he had no
instructions, he declined this office, and recommended
the propriety of their-employing a special messenger
of their own in a commission of such high importance.
They accordingly appointed Mr Candisli to go with
them to the queen of Scots, and, in a formal despatch-,
they extolled the merits of the duke of Norfolk ; as¬
sured her of the general favour and support of the Eng¬
lish nobility, if she should approve of his love ; and. in¬
timated their belief that Elizabeth would not be averse
to a-marriage which gave the certain prospect of tran¬
quillity a; .l happiness- to the two kingdoms. This
despatch was in the handwriting of Leicester ; and it
was subscribed by this nobleman, and the earls of
Arundel and Pembroke, and the lord Runrdey.
Mary, in the solitude of her prison, received .thisMary «-
application with pleasure. By the lord Boyd she re-Srees t0 ,he
turned a very favourable, answer to it ; but took theI’™'
liberty to admonish them of the necessity of their se-Les.
curing the good-will of Elizabeth, lest her dislike of
the treaty of marriage should excite new disasters
and misfortunes, and. involve the duke of Norfolk in
inconvenience and danger. This advice, the suggestion
of her delicacy and prudence, did not draw their at¬
tention sufficiently. The duke of Norfolk was now im¬
patient to conclude this great transaction, in which he
had engaged himself; and admitted into his councils
many nobles whom he had hitherto neglected to court,
and many gentlemen who were considerable from their
distinction and fortunes. The countenance and con¬
sent of the kings of France and Spain were thought
necessary to the measures in agitation, and were soli¬
cited and obtained. In the universality of the applause
with which they were honoured, it was supposed that
Elizabeth would be allured into a cordial acknowledge¬
ment of their propriety, or be compelled to afford them
a reluctant approbation; and so ardent a belief pre¬
vailed of their fortunate termination, that the marriage-
contract was actually intrusted to the keeping of M.
Fenelon the French ambassador.
The-activity of the duke of Norfolk with the Eng¬
lish nobles did not so much engross his attention as to
make him forget the regent. He kept up a close cor¬
respondence with him in consequence of the concert in¬
to which they had entered, and received the most ample
assurances of his fidelity and service. The most san¬
guine and seducing hopes elated him. The regent,
while he stipulated for terms of favour and security to
himself and his faction, appeared lo be full of the mar¬
riage, as a measure from which, the greatest advantages
would:
-736
Scotian
S C O T LAND.
785
The re-
.<]iu‘,sts of
Wary.
784
Importu¬
nities of
^Norfolk.
would arise to tire two kingdoms, to the two queens, and
^ to tire true religion. The match, in the mean time,
was anxiously concealed from Elizabeth ; but she was
zealously pressed to conclude an accommodation with
Mary, on the foundation of the schedule of agreement
presented by the bishop of Ross. After having had
many conferences with her privy-council* she seemed
inclined to treat definitively for the restoration of the
queen of Scots, and actually agreed to open the trans¬
action to the regent. The lord Boyd was sent into
Scotland on this business; and while he carried her
letters, he was intrusted with despatches from Mary,
the duke of Norfolk, and Sir Nicholas Throgmorton.
As the regent was returning from his northern ex¬
pedition, he was saluted at Elgin by the lord Boyd,
who immediately laid before him the despatches and in¬
structions with which he had been charged. The queen
of England, in her letters, made three propositions in
behalf of Mary, and intimated a desire that one of them
should he accepted. The queen of Scots, she said,
might be restored fully and absolutely to her royal
estate : she might be associated in the government with
her son, have the title of queen, and, till the prince
should attain the age of 17 yeafs, the administration
might continue in the regent; or she might be permit¬
ted to return to Scotland in a private station, and have
an honourable appointment to maintain her. in a safe
and happy obscurity. The despatches from Mary to
the regent desired, that judges might immediately be
allowed to inquire into the legality of her marriage
with Bothwel: and that, if it was found to have been
concluded in opposition to the laws, it should be de¬
clared void, and that the liberty be granted to her of
entering again into a matrimonial engagement. The
duke of Norfolk expressed to the regent the gratitude
he felt for his friendship; promised him the command
of the fullest exertions of his consequence and power ;
intreated him to proceed expeditiously in promoting the
business of the marriage, and referred him to the instruct
tions of lord Boyd for a satisfactory answer to any doubts
which might give him disgust or uneasiness. By the
letters of Throgmorton, the regent was advertised that
the marriage of the queen of Scots with the duke of
Norfolk was a certain and decided point; and he was
counselled to concur heartily and expeditiously in this
transaction, that his consent might not seem to have
been extorted. Maitland of Lethington was x*ecom-
mended to him by this statesman, as the person whom
he should choose to represent him in the English court,
as he could negociate best the terms and mode of his
security and of that of his party. In fine, Throgmor¬
ton intreated him not to be troubled with any precise
scruples or objections, for that his overthrow, if he re¬
sisted, would be inevitable ; and, in the view of his ser¬
vices and cordiality, he assured him, that no man’s friend¬
ship would be accepted with greater affection, and no
man’s estimation be higher or more fortunate. The
zeal of Throgmorton induced him also, on this occasion,
to address to Maitland a despatch, in which he was in¬
finitely importunate to hasten his expedition to England,
in the character to which he recommended him. He
complimented him as the fittest person to open the
match to the English queen, on the part of the regent
and the Scottish nobility ; and he represented the suc¬
cess of the scheme to be infallible, as Elizabeth would
3
never he so unwise as to put her own safety, the peace Scotland
of her kingdom, and the preservation of her people, in‘'-“-V''J
competition with the partial devices that might proceed
from the vanity and the passions of any person whatever.
He enumerated the names of the English nobility who
had confederated to promote the marriage. He en¬
larged on it as an expedient full of wisdom, and as ad¬
vantageous in the highest degree to religion and the
state. He pointed out the lasting and inseparable con¬
nexion of England and Scotland, as its happy and un¬
doubted consequence. For, if James VI. should die,
the sceptres of the two kingdoms might devolve on an
English prince ; and if he should attain to manhood,
he might marry the daughter of the duke of Norfolk,
and unite, in Ids person, the two crowns.
These weighty despatches fully employed the thoughts Deliber*.
of the regent. The calls of justice and humanity were^oii of the
loud in the behalf of Mary ; his engagements to Nor-^lates 011
folk were precise and definitive ; and the commission ofti‘on
Elizabeth afforded him the command of the most im-the queen*
portant services. But, on the other hand, the resto¬
ration of Mary, and her marriage, would put an end
for ever to his greatness; and, amidst all the stipula¬
tions which could be made for his protection, the enor¬
mity of his guilt was still haunting him with suspicions
and terror. His ambition and his selfish sensibilities
were an overmatch for his virtue. He practised with
his partisans to throw obstacles in the way of the treaty
and the marriage ; and, on pretence of deliberating
concerning the restoration of Mary, and on her divorce
from Bothwel, a convention of the estates was sum¬
moned by him to assemble at Perth. To this assem¬
bly the letters of Elizabeth were recited ; and her pro¬
positions were considered in their order. The full re¬
storation of Mary to her dignity was accounted injuri¬
ous to the authority of the king; and her association
with her son in the government was judged improper
and dangerous : hut it was thought that her deliverance
from prison, and her reduction to a private station,
were reasonable expedients. No definitive treaty, how¬
ever, was pronounced. The letters of Mary were then
communicated to this council, and gave rise to vehe¬
ment debates. She had written and subscribed them
in her character of queen of Scotland. This carriage
was termed insolent and imperious by the friends of the
regent. They also held it unsafe to examine her re¬
quests, till they should be communicated to Elizabeth ;
and they insinuated, that some inclement and partial
device was concealed under the purpose of her divorce
from the earl of Bothwel. The favourers of Mary
endeavoured to apologize for the lorm of the letters,
by throwing the blame on her secretaries; and engaged,
that while tlie commissaries, or judges, were proceed¬
ing in the business of the divorce, new despatches in
the proper method should be applied for and procured.
They were heard with evident symptoms of displeasure;
and exclaimed, “ that it was wonderful to them, that
those very persons who had lately been so violent for the
separation of the queen and Bothwel should now be so
averse to it. ” The partisans of the regent replied,
“ that if the queen was so eagerly solicitous to procure
the divorce, she might apply to the king of Denmark
to execute Bothwel as the murderer of her husband;
and that then, she might marry the person who was most
agreeable to her. ” The passions of the two factions
were
SCOTLAND.
Zetland, were inflamed to a most indecent extremity, and the
**—v—convention broke up with strong and unequivocal
marks of hostility and anger.
Elizabeth Notwithstanding the caution with which Mary and
disappoints Norfolk carried on their intrigues, intimations of them
the designs had come to Elizabeth. Norfolk himself, by the ad-
snd Not v'ce t^ie ear* P^^rohe, had ventured to disclose
folk * his secret to Sir William Cecil, who affected to be
friendly to him. The regent, in answer to her letters,
transmitted to her the proceedings of the convention at
Perth. The application of Mary for a divorce was a
key to the ambitious hopes of the duke of Norfolk.
She commanded Sir William Cecil to apply himself
to discover the conspiracy. This statesman betrayed
the confidence with which he had been entrusted ; and
Elizabeth, while the duke w'as attending her at Farn-
ham, discovering a mixture of pleasantry and passion,
admonished him to be careful on what pillow he repos¬
ed his head. The earl of Leicester, alarmed by his
fears, revealed to her at Titchfield the whole proceed¬
ings of the duke of Norfolk and his friends. Her fury
was ungovernable ; and at different times she loaded
Norfolk wdth the severest reproaches and contumely,
for presuming to think of a marriage wdth the queen
of Scots without the sanction of her concurrence.
Insulted with her discourse and her looks, abandoned
by Leicester, and avoided by other nobles in whom
he had confided, he felt his courage to forsake him.
He left the court at Southampton without taking his
leave, and went to London to the earl of Pembroke.
New intimations of her displeasure were announced to
him, and he retired to his seat at Kinninghall in Nor¬
folk. His friends urged him to take the field, and to
commit his safety to the sword; but having no incli¬
nation to involve his country in the miseries of war, he
rejected their advice ; and addressing an apology to E-
lizabeth, protested that he never meant to depart from
the fidelity which he owed her ; and that it was his
fixed resolution to have applied for her consent to his
marriage with the queen, of Scots. In return, she or¬
dered him to repair to her court at Windsor ; and, as
he appeared to be irresolute, a messenger was despatch¬
ed to take him into custody. He w as first confined to
the house of Paul Wentworth, at Burnham, in the
neighbourhood of Windsor, and then committed to the
Tower. The earls of Pembroke and Arundel, the lord
Lumley, Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, and the bishop of
787 Ross, were also apprehended and confined.
Mary ex- Elizabeth, amidst the ferment of her inquietudes,
posed to forgot not to gratify her revenge by insulting the queen
nitiesmdlS" ^cots- The name of Mary was sufficient to con¬
vulse her with anger. The earl of Huntingdon, who
affected to have pretensions to the crown of England
that were preferable to those of the Scottish princess,
was joined with the earl of Shrewsbury in the office ot
guarding her. Plis instructions were rigorous, and he
was disposed to exceed them. The earl of Shrews¬
bury considered it as an indignity to have an associate
who was a declared enemy to his charge, who had an
interest in her death, and who w^as remarkable for a na¬
tural ferocity of disposition. Mary exclaimed against
the indelicacy and rudeness of Elizabeth, and protested
that all her intentions were commendable and innocent.
Huntingdon took a delight iff her sufferings. He ran¬
sacked her coffers with a view of making discoveries ;
Vol. XVIII. Part JI.
737
but her prudence had induced her to destroy all the Scotland,
evidences of her transactions with the duke of Nor- \
folk ; and the officious assiduity of this jailor was only
rewarded with twro ciphers which he could not compre¬
hend. The domestics whom she favoured were suspect¬
ed and dismissed. Her train of attendants was dimi¬
nished. An unrelenting watch was kept over her..
No couriers were allowed to carry her despatches. No
messengers were admitted to her presence ; and all the
letters from her friends were ordered to be intercepted,
and to be conveyed to the queen of England. 7SR
The proceedings of the convention at Perth were af- Norfolk
flicting to Elizabeth, to Mary, and to the duke of'^uayed
Norfolk. In the first they created suspicions of the re- i'!'’
gent; and they were a certain annunciation to Mary, °
that he was resolved to support himself in the govern¬
ment of Scotland. Uncertain rumours had reached
Elizabeth of the interviews he had held with Norfolk
in the business of the marriage. Her surprise and in¬
dignation were unbounded. Mr Wood, who brought
from the regent his answer to her letter, was treated
with disrespect. Secretary Cecil despatched instruc¬
tions to the lord Hunsdon, the governor of Berwick,
to watch his operations with a jealous eye. Elizabeth,
by a special envoy, required from him an explanation
of his ambiguous carriage. The regent, true to his
interests, apologized to her for his connexions with the
duke of Norfolk, by laying open the design of that
nobleman, to cut him off, in his way to Scotland, by
a full communication of whatever had passed between
them in relation to Mary, and by offers of an unlimit¬
ed submission and obedience. 789
While the duke of Norfolk was carrying on his in- Insurrec-
trigues with Mary, the scheme of an insurrection for t^0|’ ^
her deliverance was advancing under the direction of J c ‘
the earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland. Mo¬
tives of religion w ere the chief foundations of this con¬
spiracy ; and the more zealous Catholics over England
were concerned in it. Mary, however, by the advice
of the duke of Norfolk, who was afraid of her marry¬
ing a foreign prince, did not enter into it with cordia¬
lity. It advanced notwithstanding; and the agents of
the pope were lavish of exhortations and donatives. The
duke of Alva, by order of his master the king of Spain,
encouraged the conspirators with the offer of 20,000
men from the Netherlands ; and, under the pretence
of adjusting commercial disputes, he sent into England
Chiapini Vitelli marquis of Celona, an officer of abi¬
lity, that he might be at hand, and prepare to take the
command of them.—The report of an insurrection was
universal. Elizabeth kept an army of 15,000 men near
her person. The queen of Scots was removed to Co¬
ventry, a place of great strength ; and it a superior and
commanding force should appear before it, her ferocious
keeper, it is said, had orders to assassinate her. Re¬
peated commands were sent to the earls of Northumber¬
land and Westmoreland, to repair to court. But the
imprisonment of the duke of Norfolk and his friends had
struck a panic into them. They conceived that their
conspiracy was discovered ; and putting themselves at
the head of their followers, they issued their manifesto.
The restoration of Popery, the establishment of the
titles of Mary to the English crowm, and the reforma¬
tion of abuses in the commonwealth, were the avowed
objects of their enterprise. But they had embarked
f 5 A in
700
Elizabeth,
liberates
Norfolk
and his
friends.
738 S C 0 T L
Scotland. in a business to which they were altogether unequal.
—y—'' Their efforts were feeble and desultory. The duke of
Alva forgot his promises. Wherever the peace was
disturbed by insurgents, there were troops to oppose
them. The vigilance of Elizabeth disconcerted with
ease the operations of men whom no resources or popu¬
larity could have conducted to greatness, and who could
neither conquer nor die. The earl of Westmoreland,
after concealing himself for some time in Scotland, ef¬
fected his escape into Flanders, where he passed a mi¬
serable and useless existence; and the earl of Nor¬
thumberland being taken by the regent, was imprison¬
ed in the castle of Lochleven.
As the fury of Elizabeth abated, her resentment to
the duke of Norfolk lost its power ; and she failed not
to distinguish between the intrigues of an honourable
ambition, and the practices of an obstinate superstition.
It was the result of the examination of this nobleman,
and of the confessions of the other prisoners, that Le-
thington had schemed the business of the marriage, and
that the earl of Murray had encouraged it; that her
consent was understood to be necessary to its comple¬
tion ; and that Mary herself had warmly recommended
the expedient of consulting her pleasure. On receiving
proper admonitions, the earls of Pembroke, Arundel,
the lord Lumley, Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, and the
bishop of Ross, were released from confinement; and,
after a more tedious imprisonment, the duke of Norfolk
was set at liberty. This favour, however, was not ex¬
tended to him till he had not only submissively acknow¬
ledged his presumption in the business of the marriage,
but had fully revealed whatever had passed between
him and Mary, and solemnly engaged never more to
think of this alliance, and never more to take any
concern whatever in her affairs.
The regent, in the meanwhile, was very anxious to
pf Lething-rec0ver the good opinion of Elizabeth. Her treatment
of1Darn-e ^T?oth ancl her discovery of his practices, had
ley’s mur- excited his appreliensions. He therefore assembled at
Stirling a convention of the estates; and taking her let¬
ters a second time into consideration, returned her a
reply by Robert Pitcairn abbot of Dunfermline, in a
style suited to her temper and jealousies, and from which
she could decisively infer, that no favour of any kind
would be shown to the queen of Scots. But this base
condecension, though assisted by his treachery to the
duke of Norfolk, not being sufficient, in his opinion, to
draw completely to him the cordiality of the queen of
England, he was preparing to gratify her with another
sacrifice. The partiality of Maitland to Mary, and
his intrigues with Norfolk and the English malcontents,
had rendered him uncommonly obnoxious to Elizabeth
and her ministry. The late commotions had been chiefly
ascribed to his arts ; and it was natural to dread new ca¬
lamities and tumults from the fertile spring of his inven¬
tion. Under pretence of employing his service in des¬
patches to England, the regent invited him to Stirling.
He was then with the earl of Athol at Perth; and sus¬
pecting some improper design, he obeyed the summons
with reluctance. When he took his place in the privy-
council, Captain Crawford, the minion of the earl of
Lenox, who had distinguished himself in the trial of
Mary, accused him, in direct terms, of being a party
m the murder of the late king. The regent affected
astonishment, but permitted him to be taken into custo-
A N D.
791
Maitland
-tier.
dy. He was soon after sent to Edinburgh under a Scotlam!.
guard, and admonished to prepare for his trial. On'
similar charges, the lord Seton and Sir James Balfour
were seized on and imprisoned. 79S
Kirkaldy of Grange, the governor of the castle of He is prj*
Edinburgh, who was warmly attached to Maitland, af-te^ed by
ter having in vain remonstrated with the regent on the
violence of his conduct, employed address and strata- a '
gem in the service of his friend. Under the cover of
night, he went with a guard of soldiers to the lodging
where Maitland was confined ; and showing a forged
warrant for taking his person into custody, got posses¬
sion of him. Kirkaldy had now in his castle the duke
of Chatelherault, the lord Herries, and Maitland. The
regent sent for him to a conference; but he refused to
obey his message. He put himself and his fortress un¬
der the direction of his prisoners. The regent, con¬
descending to pay him a visit, wras more lavish than
usual of his promises and kindness. His arts, however,
only excited the disdain of this generous soldier. Since
he could not lead out Maitland to the block, he insti¬
tuted a process of treason against him, in order to for¬
feit his estases. Kirkaldy, by the mouth of a trumpet¬
er, desired him to commence similar actions against
the earl of Morton and Mr Archibald Douglas, as it
was notorious that they were parties to the king’s mur¬
der. This messenger was likewise charged with deli¬
vering a challenge from him to Mr Archibald Doug¬
las, and another from th6 lord Herries to the earl of
Morton. This disappointment, and these indignities,
made a deep impression on the regent; and, in a
thoughtful dissatisfied humour, about this time, he
made a short progress towards the English border,
courting popularity, and deserving it, by an attention
to order and justice. 793
Elizabeth, flattered by his submissive advances, and Elizabeth
pleased with his ambition, was now disposed to gratify agrees to
his fullest wishes; and she perceived, that by delivering^tliver up
to him the queen of Scots, she would effectually relieve ti^rryegrn&
herself of a prisoner whose vigour and intrigues were a
constant interruption to her repose. A treaty for this
purpose was entered into and concluded. The regent
was to march an army to the English frontiers, and to
receive from her his sovereign into her own dominions,
the victim of his power, and the sport of his passions.
No hostages and no security were stipulated for her en¬
tertainment and good usage. His authority over her
was to be without any limits. On his part, he was
to deliver to Elizabeth the young prince, to put her
in possession of the principal forts of Scotland, and to
assist her with troops in the event of a war with France.
This treaty, so fatal to Mary, and so ruinous to the in¬
dependence of Scotland, escaped not the vigilance of
the bishop of Ross. He complained of it in the strong¬
est terms to Elizabeth; and declared it to be equiva¬
lent to a sentence of death against his mistress. The
ambassadors of France and Spain were also strenuous
in their remonstrances to her on this subject. All re¬
sistance, however, was unavailing; and the execution
of the treaty seemed inevitable. Yet how vain are the
loftiest schemes of human pride 1 The career of the
regent was hastening to its crisis ; and the hand of an
assassin put a period to his dream of royalty. Scot¬
land did not lose its liberties; but Mary continued to
be unfortunate.
James
SCOTLAND."
Scotland. James Hamilton of Bothwelliaugh, who had been
' taken prisoner at the battle of Langside, obtained his
Deathof Iil)erty anii iife ’ but bis estates were forfeited.—His
the regent w^e> tbe heiress of Woodhouslie, retired on this emer-
An. 1570. gency to her paternal inheritance, in the hope that it
might escape the rapacity of the regent. He had, how¬
ever, given it away to one of his favourites, Sir James
Ballenden ; and the instruments of his power having the
inhumanity to strip her of her garments, and to turn her
naked out of her house, in a cold and dark night, she
became distracted before the morning. Hamilton vow¬
ed revenge; and the regent made a mockery of his
threats. This contempt inspirited his passions; and the
humiliation of the house of Hamilton, to which he was
nearly allied, fostered the eagerness of his discontents.
The madness of party added fuel to his rage. His mind
became reconciled to assassination. After watching for
some time a proper opportunity to perpetrate his horrid
purpose, he found it at Linlithgow. The regent was
to pass through this town on his way from Stirling to
Edinburgh. Intimation reached him that Hamilton
was now to perpetrate his design; and he unaccount¬
ably slighted the intelligence. The assassin, in a house
that belonged to the archbishop of St Andrew’s, waited
deliberately his approach; and firing his musket from
a window, shot him through the body. The wound,
when examined, was not judged to be mortal; but the
regent finding its pain to increase, prepared himself for
death ; and in a few hours after he expired. A fleet
horse of the abbot of Arbroath’s carried the assassin to
the palace of Hamilton; and thence he soon after ef¬
fected his escape to France.
The death of the earl of Murray made no favourable
alteration in the affairs of Mary. Confusion and dis¬
order prevailed throughout the kingdom ; and though
the friends of the queen were promised assistance from
•95 France, nothing effectual was done for them. At last
'Lenox the regency was conferred on the earl of Lenox ; an
chosen to enemy to the queen, who treated her friends with the
liim^ utmost rigour. At the same time Elizabeth continued
to amuse with negociations her unhappy rival. She
granted liberty to the bishop of Ross to repair to the
queen of Scots, who had been removed to Chatsworth,
and to confer with her on the subject of the intended
treaty. Mary, conforming to the advances of Eliza¬
beth, authorized the lord Levingston to pass to her do¬
minions, and desire her friends to appoint a deputation
of their number to give their assistance in promoting the
salutary purpose of establishing the tranquillity of their
country : and after meeting with some interruptions on
the English borders from the earl of Sussex, this noble¬
man successfully executedhis commission. The queen’s
lords gave powers to ten nobles to act in a body, or by
two of their number, in the intended negociation :
and a safe-conduct from Elizabeth allowed them to en¬
ter the English realm, and to remain in it during six
7(>(; months.
Articles of While the lord Levingston was consulting the in¬
agreement terests of Mary with her friends in Scotland, the bishop
toMar^ ^oss was making earnest suit with Elizabeth to pro-
by Eliza- ceed in the projected negociation. His solicitations
beth. were not ineffectual; and Sir William Cecil and Sir
An. 1571. W’alter Mildmay received the instructions of their mis¬
tress to wait on the queen of Scots at Chatsworth. The
heads of accommodation which they proposed were ex-
739
plicit; and the rigour which they discovered towards Scotland,
the Scottish princess seemed to prove their sincerity.
was proposed, that a perfect amity should take place be¬
tween the two queens; that all the treaties which had
formerly been concluded by the two nations should re¬
ceive an ample confirmation ; that the queen of Scot¬
land should ratify the treaty of Edinburgh, and forbear
to advance any title or claim to the crown of England
during the life of Elizabeth, or to the prejudice of the
heirs of her body; that in case of foreign invasions, the
two realms should mutually assist each other; that all
foreign soldiers should be ordered to depart out of Scot¬
land ; that in future, strangers of the profession of arms
should be prohibited from repairing to it, and from tak¬
ing up their residence in any of its castles or houses of
strength; that Mary should hold no correspondence, di¬
rectly or indirectly, with any subject of England, with¬
out the permission of the English queen; that the earl
of Northumberland, and the English rebels in Scotland,
should be delivered up to Elizabeth; that redress should
be given to the subjects of England for the spoils taken
by them on the Scottish borders; that the murderers
of the lord Darnley and the earl of Murray should be
duly and effectually punished; that before the queen of
Scots should be set at liberty, the young prince her son
should be brought into England, and that he should
continue in the keeping of Elizabeth till the death of his
mother, or till her resignation to him of her crown on
his attaining majority; that the queen of Scots should
not enter into a negociation for her marriage without
the knowledge of the queen of England, nor conclude
it without her approbation, or that of the greatest part
of the Scottish nobility ; that none of the subjects of
Scotland should be suffered to go to Ireland without
the safe-conduct of Elizabeth; and that Mary should
deliver to her sister all the testimonies and writings
which had been sent from France, renouncing and dis¬
avowing the pretended marriage between her and the
duke of Anjou. Besides these articles of agreement, it
was proposed by another treaty to adjust the differences
of the queen of Scots and her subjects ; and Sir Wil¬
liam Cecil and Sir Walter Mildmay embraced the pre¬
sent opportunity of conferring with her on this busi¬
ness, under pretence of facilitating its management in
the future stages of its progress. 7^
During their stay at Chatsworth, these statesmen were Mary is
completely satisfied with the behaviour of the queen of desirous tfc
Scots. The candour, sincerity, and moderation which neS0CiaU?-
she displayed, were full assurances to them that on her
part there was no occasion for apprehending an}' im¬
proper policy or art; and the calamities of her condi¬
tion were a still more secure pledge of her compliance.
Elizabeth, on hearing their report, affected to be
highly pleased with her sister, and sent a message to
the earl of Lenox, instructing him in the conditions
which had been submitted to Mary; and desiring him
to despatch commissioners into England to deliberate on
the treaty, and to consult his interest and that of his
faction. Nor did Mary neglect to transmit to her
friends in Scotland the proposed terms of agreement;
and the bishop of Ross, who had assisted her in the
conferences with Sir William Cecil and Sir Walter
Mildmay, conveyed intimations of them to the pope,
the king of France, and the duke of Alva; besought
their advice, and informed these princes, that unless an
5 A 2 effectual
798
The insin¬
cerity of
Elizabeth.
540 SCOTT.
Scotland, effectual relief could be expected from their favour,
the necessities of her condition would compel her to
subscribe to the hard and humiliating dictates of the
queen of England.
But while Mary and her friends were indulging the
hope of a termination to her troubles, Elizabeth was
•secretly giving comfort to her adversaries, and encou¬
raging them to throw obstacles in the way of the trea¬
ty. Sir William Cecil wrote to the regent, express¬
ing his disapprobation of the negociations at Chats-
worth ; desiring him not to be apprehensive of the
boastings of the adherents of the queen of Scots ; and
advising him to make choice of commissioners, in the
name of tke king, on whose constancy and fortitude he
could rely, and whom no address could allure from his
interest, or from the common cause in which he and
his friends were embarked. The earl of Sussex also sent
him despatches, in which he admonished him to turn his
anxious attention to the approaching negociation, and
to insist on secure stipulations for the preservation of
the prince, for his own safety, and for a general indem¬
nity to the nobles and their adherents, whose party he
had espoused. In every event, he represented it as pro¬
per for him to pay the greatest respect to Elizabeth ;
and, if no treaty should be concluded, he advised him
to be prepared for reducing the friends of Mary to o-
bedience, and for defending himself against invasions
from abroad. By these artifices, the regent and his
faction wTere inclined to intimate to Elizabeth their
warm dissatisfaction with the terms of agreement which
she had proposed to Mary; and Pitcairn abbot of Dun¬
fermline, who had been appointed secretary of state in
the room of Maitland of Lethington, was deputed to
her on this business. He exclaimed against the treaty
as wild and impolitic; and contended, that no stipula¬
tions could bind Mary, whose religion taught her to
keep no faith with heretics ; that her claims to the
English crown,.and her resentment against the queen of
England, as wrell as her own subjects, would immedia-
ately on her restoration, involve the two kingdoms in
blood ; and that no peace or quiet could be expected
or enjoyed, but by adhering to the salutary maxim of
detaining her in close captivity. Elizabeth did not
discourage these inclement sentiments ; and Pitcairn
was assured by her, that from her natural love to the
king, and her regard to the nobles who upheld his au¬
thority, she would faithfully provide for their security ;
and that if justice should appear on their side, she
would even strenuously maintain their quarrel and their
consequence.
Mary had been carried to Sheffield, and was reco¬
vering from a feverish indisposition. To this place the
bishop of Galloway and the lord Levingston, who had
audience selected by her friends to be her acting deputies
Elizabeth. in England, repaired in order to impart to her the
state of affairs in Scotland, • and to receive her com¬
mands. After repeated conferences on the subject of
the approaching treaty, she gave them her commission
and instructions, and joining them to the bishop of Ross,
sent them to Elizabeth. They requested an audience of
this princess, and were admitted to it at Hampton-
court. Having presented their credentials, they inform¬
ed her, that they were ready to conclude a treaty of
concord and agreement, on principles the most exten¬
sive and liberal; and, representing to her the impove-
799
Mary’s
commis¬
sioners
have an
AND.
rished and tumultuous state of their country, they beg- Scotlarfl.
ged her to proceed in the business with expedition.
The orders, they said, which they had received, and
their own inclinations, disposed them to follow her ad¬
vice and counsel in all points which were honourable
and consistent with reason ; and as her protection was
the only refuge of the adversaries of their queen, they
took the liberty of observing, that it was completely in
her power to put a period to all disturbances and ani¬
mosity, and to accomplish an accord, which would not
only confer on her the highest reputation, but be of
the most signal utility to the two kingdoms. Eliza¬
beth declared, that it would please and flatter her in
no common degi-ee to advance in the negociation ; and
that it was painful to her that the regent, by his delay
in sending commissioners, should discover any aversion
to it. This answer was deemed very favourable by
the bishop of Ross and his associates ; and they ob¬
tained her authority to despatch a messenger to the
regent to hasten his operations.
In the mean time, Mary received despatches from the The Ca-
pope, the king of France, and the duke of Alva ; andtholicpow-
they concurred in recommending it to her to accept ^js aclvise
of the articles of accommodation which were offered by accept of
Elizabeth. The Turks were giving employment to the the accom-
pope and the king of Spain; Charles IX. already en-modad°n-
ieebled by the obstinate valour of the Huguenots, was
busy in deceiving them with appearances of peace, and
in plotting their overthrow ; 'and the duke of Alva felt
himself insecure in his government of the Netherlands.
But while they strongly advised Mary to conclude
an agreement with the queen of England, they were
yet lavish to her of their expressions of a constant a-
mity ; and if the treaty should miscarry, they promis¬
ed to make the most strenuous exertions in her behalf,
and to assist her adherents with money, ammunition,
and troops. g0I
The earl of Morton, the abbot of Dunfermline, and The regent
Mr James Macgill, had been appointed by the regentand his
and his faction to be their commissioners in the name 0ffactlon at‘
the king; and at length their arrival was announced
to Elizabeth. Conforming to the spirit of their party, deposition
the earl of Morton and his colleagues took an early op- of Mary,
portunity of justifying to her the deposition of the queen
of Scots, and by this means to interrupt the progress of
the treaty. In an eleborate memorial, they affected to
consider Mary as unworthy to reign, and asserted the
constitutional power of the people to curb her ambi¬
tion, and to degrade her from royalty. They endea¬
voured to intrench themselves within the authority of
laws, civil, canon, and municipal; and they7 recited opi¬
nions to her prejudice by many pious divines. But
though the general position, that the people have a title
to resist the domination of the sovereign is clear and un-
dubitable; yet their application of it to the queen of
Scots was improper. To speak of her tyranny7, and her
violation of the rights of her people, was even a wanton
mockery of truth and justice ; for instead of having as¬
sumed an illegal exorbitancy of power, she had suffered
in her own person and rights, and had been treated by
hersubjectswith the most cruel and tyrannical insolence.
Elizabeth, who was unwilling and afraid to enter again
into the conduct of Mary, who was fully sensible of the
insolence of her adversaries, and who did not approve of
any maxims that pressed against the majesty of princes,
received
SCOT
Scotland, received their memorial with surprise and indignation.
<—’V—She perceived not, she told them, any reason that could
vindicate the severity which had been shown to the
queen of Scots by her enemies; and advised them to
consider, that in the present negociation it was their
proper business to consult the security of the king and
802 of their party.
Elizabeth’s On the part of Elizabeth, the commissioners were the
com mis- lord-keeper Bacon, the earls of Sussex andLeicester, the
conferences l°rd Clynton, the lord chamberlain, Sir William Cecil,
with those w^° about this time was created Lord Burleigh, Sir
of the Francis Knollys, Sir James Croft, Sir Water Mildmay,
queen of anj Sir Thomas Smith. The deputies of Mary were in-
^cots, vited to meet the English commissioners in the house of
the lord keeper; and after he had stated the general pur¬
poses of the treaty, he intimated to them, that there were
two points which required a particular discussion. A
proper security, he said, ought to be given by the queen
of Scots for her due performance of the stipulations of
the agreement with Elizabeth ; and it was expedient to
concert the mode of the pardon and indemnity which
she was to extend to the subjects of Scotland who had
offended her. As an assurance of the accommoda¬
tion with his mistress, he demanded that the duke of
Chatelherault, the earls of Huntly and Argyle, the
lords Hume and Herries, with another person of high
rank, should be surrendered to her, and remain in Eng¬
land for three years; that the castles of Dumbarton and
Hume should be in her possession during the same pe¬
riod ; and as to the article concerning the delivery of
the prince into her custody, he observed, that it should
be required from the regent, the queen of Scots not
having the power of its performance. The deputies of
Mary, surprised with this language, entreated the Eng¬
lish delegates to reflect, that their queen, if deprived
of the most faithful of her nobles, and of her strongest
forts, could have little desire or ambition to return to
her own kingdom ; for she would thus be unable to pro¬
tect herself against the turbulence of her subjects, and
be a sovereign without friends, and without strength.
They were inclined, they said, to put their commission
and powers to the fullest stretch, in order to gratify Eli¬
zabeth ; and they would agree, that two earls and two
barons should be surrendered for two years, as hostages
of the fidelity of their sovereign ; under the restriction,
that they might be exchanged every six months for per¬
sons of an equal condition, if they should be desirous of
returning to their own country. As to the giving up of
any forts or castles, they would not agree to it, because
among the other inconveniences of this measure, simi¬
lar claims might be made by the king of France, by the
spirit of the treaty of Edinburgh, which stipulated, that
no French or English troops should be admitted into
Scotland. The lord-keeper Bacon, resuming his dis¬
course, told them, that the whole realm of Scotland, its
prince, nobles, and castles, were an inadequate pledge
to the queen of England ; and that, if his advice should
be followed, the queen of Scots would not obtain her li¬
berty on any kind of security which could be granted
by the Scottish nation. In all public treaties, said the
delegates of Mary, no further assurance can be requir¬
ed; from a sovereign than what consists with his safety;
and when exactions are pressed from a contracting par¬
ty in a league which are ruinous and impossible, it is
LAND. 741
understood that a foundation is sought to break off the Scotland,
negociation. The English commissioners, now inter- ”“v '
fering in a body, declared on their honour, that it was
the meaning of Elizabeth to agree to the restoration of
the queen of Scots to her crown and realm on receiving
sufficient assurances for the articles of the accommoda¬
tion ; that the securitj^ offered for her acceptance should
be submitted to her deliberation ; and that they would
immediately proceed to confer with the deputies from
the king of Scots. g03.
The English commissioners were not unacquainted and with
with the sentiments of the earl of Morton and his col-tlie king’s
leagues ; and it was from this quarter that they expect- puties*
ed a resolute and definitive interruption to the treaty.
Nor did these delegates disappoint the expectations con¬
ceived of them. After affecting to take a comprehen¬
sive view of the articles under debate, they declared,
that their commission gave them authority to treat about
the amity of the two kingdoms, and the maintenance
of the true religion ; but that it conferred on them
no power to receive their queen into Scotland, or to
surrender to Elizabeth the person of their king. They
therefore begged not to be urged to accede to a league
which, at some future period, might expose them to a
charge of high treason.
This singular declaration was considered to be solid Elizabeth
and weighty by the English commissioners; and, in aobstructs
new conference, it was communicated by them to the the treaty,
deputies of Mary. The bishop of Ross and his asso¬
ciates were disgusted with this formal impertinence.
They did not hesitate to pronounce the plea of an in¬
sufficient commission from the king to his delegates to
be an unworthy and most frivolous subterfuge. The
authors, they said, of the deposition of their sovereign
did not need any authority but their own to set her at
liberty; the prince was not yet five years of age, and
could give them no instructions ; and the regent was
wholly dependent on the will and pleasure of the
queen of England. It was represented in return by the
English delegates, that the commission of King James
to his deputies, having been perused by Elizabeth, was
accounted by her to be insufficient; and that it was
her opinion, that the earl of Morton should return to
Scotland to hold a parliament for obtaining new powers.
The bishop of Ross exclaimed, that the queen of Scots
had been amused with deceitful promises, that the pru¬
dence of Elizabeth had been corrupted by partial coun¬
sels, and that the allegations and pretences held out for
interrupting the negociation were affected and unreal.
The instructions, he said, from his sovereign to her com¬
missioners, were to negociate and to conclude, and not
to trifle ; and they would not by any means consent to
protract, by artificial delays, a treaty which the queen
of England, if her intentions were sincere and right,
could immediately terminate on reasonable and honour¬
able terms. His speech and his demeanour he ac¬
knowledged to be free and open ; and he besought
them to excuse him, since, having been made an instru¬
ment to abuse his mistress with false hopes, he could
not but resent the indignity, and express what he knew
and what he felt. The English deputies, addressing
him and his colleagues, observed, that as the friends
of Mary, and those of the king her son, could not
come to an agreement, and as their queen was re¬
fused
SCOTLAND.
*74£
Scotland, fused the assurance she expected, they held their com-
• v > mission to be at an end, and were no longer at liberty
$05 to negociate.
The agitat- The insincerity of Elizabeth, and the failure of the
condi- ieague or agreement, filled Mary with resentment and
the complaints. Her animosities, and those of Elizabeth,
1 were increased. She was in haste to communicate to
her allies the unworthy treatment she had received; and
she sent her commands to her adherents in Scotland to
rise in arms, to repose no trust in truces which were
•prejudical and treacherous, and to employ all their re¬
sources and strength in the humiliation of the regent and
his faction. Elizabeth, who by this time apprehended
no enterprise or danger from Charles IX. or the duke of
Alva, resolved, on the other hand, to give a strong and
elfectual support to James’s friends, and to disunite by
stratagem, and oppress by power, the partisans of the
Scottish princess. The zeal of the bishop of Ross having
raised her anger, she commanded him to depart from
London; and Mary, in contempt of her mandate, or¬
dered him to remain there under the privilege of her
ambassador. The high and unbroken spirit of the Scot¬
tish queen, in the midst of her misfortunes, never once
awakened the generous admiration of Elizabeth. While
it uniformly inflamed her rage, it seems also to have ex¬
cited her terror. With a pusillanimous meanness, she
sent a despatch to the earl of Shrewsbury, instructing
him to keep his charge in the closest confinement, and
tobe incessantly on his guard to prevent her escape. He
obeyed, and regretted her severity. The expense, reti¬
nue, and domestics, of the queen of Scots, were dimi¬
nished and reduced, and every probable means by which
she might endeavour to obtain her liberty were removed
from her. The rigours, however, that invaded her per¬
son could not reach her mind; and she pitied the tyrant
that could add contumely to oppression, and deny her
*06 even the comforts of a prison.
Dreadful All this time Scotland was involved in the miseries
confusion of civil war. The friends of Mary were everywhere pu-
in Scot- nished with fines and forfeiture. Private families took
land. tjie opportunity of the public confusion to revenge their
quarrels against each other. Individuals of every de¬
nomination ranged themselves on the side either of the
regent or of the queen, and took a share in the hostilities
of their country. Fathers divided against sons, and sons
against their fathers. Acts of outrage and violence were
committedin every quarter, while, amidst the general con-
807 fusion, religion was made the pretence by both parties.
The regent In the mean time, though many encounters took
taken pri- place between the two factions, yet neither party seems
^tTo ^ t0 *iave 136611 conducted by leaders of any skill in mili-
death! tary affab*8* This year, in one of these skirmishes, the
regent himself was taken prisoner by a party of the
queen’s faction, and put to death. But this event made
little alteration in the'affairs of the nation. The earl
of Mar, another of the queen’s enemies, was chosen to
the regency; but though he proposed to act against her
party with rigour, he was baffled before Edinburgh
castle, which was still held by her friends; and some
bloody skirmishes were fought in the north, where vic¬
tory declared in favour of the queen. These advan¬
tages, however, were more than compensated to the
other party by the following event.
W hile the negociations with Elizabeth for Mary’s
restoration were depending, the scheme of a conspi¬
racy for her deliverance was communicated to her by Scotland.
Robert Ridolphia Florentine, who lived in London for v-—
manyyears as amerchant, and who was secretly an agent
for the court of Rome. But to his letters, while the compirac*
fate of the treaty was uncertain, she returned no reply.
Its miscarriage, through the duplicity of Elizabeth, re¬
called them forcibly to her attention, and stimulated her
to seek the accomplishment of her liberty by measures
bolder and more arduous than any which she had hi¬
therto employed. She drew up in cipher an ample dis¬
course of his communications and of her situation, and
despatched it to the bishop of Ross, together with letters
for the duke of Norfolk. Her instructions to this eccle¬
siastic were to convey the discourse and letters expediti¬
ously to Norfolk, and to concert an interview between
that nobleman and Ridolphi. The confidential servants
by whom the duke acted with the bishop of Ross were
Bannister and Barker; and having received from them
the discourse and the letters, they were deciphered by
Hickford his secretary. Having considered them ma¬
turely, he delivered them to Hickford, with orders to
commit them to the flames. His orders, however, were
disobeyed; andHickforddeposited them, with other pa¬
pers of consequence, under the mats of the duke’s bed¬
chamber. The contents of the discourse and the let¬
ters awakening the hope and ambition of Norfolk, he
was impatient to see Ridolphi; and the bishop of Ross
soon brought them together. Ridolphi, whose ability
was excited by motives of religion and interest, exert¬
ed all his eloquence and address to engage the duke to
put himself at the head of a rebellion against his sove¬
reign. He represented to him, that there could not be
a season more proper than the present for achieving the
overthrow of Elizabeth. Many persons who had en¬
joyed authority and credit under her predecessors were
much disgusted; the Catholics were numerous and in¬
censed ; the younger sons of the gentry were languish¬
ing in poverty and inaction in every quarter of the king¬
dom ; and there were multitudes disposed toinsurrection
from restlessness, the love of change, and the ardour of
enterprise. He insinuated that his rank, popularity, and
fortune, enabled him to take the command of such per¬
sons with infinite advantage. He insisted on his im¬
prisonment and the outrages he had sustained from Eli¬
zabeth ; represented the contempt to which he would
expose himself by a tame submission to these wrongs;
extolled the propriety with which he might give way to
his indignation and revenge ; and pointed out the glory
he might purchase by the humiliation of the enemies,
and by the full accomplishment of his marraige with the
queen of Scots. To give strength and confirmation to
these topics he produced a long list of the names of no¬
blemen and gentlemen with whom he had practised,
and whom he affirmed to be ready to hazard their lives
and riches for a revolution in the state, if the duke
would enter into it with cordiality. To fix decisively
the duke, he now opened to him the expectations with
which he might flatter himself from abroad. The pope,
he assured him, had already provided 100,000 crowns
for the enterprise; and if Popery should be advanced in
England, he would cheerfully defray the whole charges
of the war. The king of Spain would supply 4000
horse and 6000 foot, which might be landed at Harwich.
Charles IX. was devotedly attached to the queen of
Scots, notwithstanding the treaty which had been enter¬
ed
SCOT
Scotland, ed into with Elizabeth for her marriage with his brother
the duke of Anjou : and when he should discover that,
on the part of the English princess, this matrimonial
scheme was no better than a device or a mockery, he
would renounce the appearance of friendship which he
had assumed, and return to his natural sentiments, of
disdain and hatred, with reboubled violence. In fine,
he urged, that while he might depend on the assistance
and arms of the greatest princes of Christendom, he
would entitle himself to the admiration of all of them
by his magnanimous efforts and generous gallantry in
gog the cause of a queen so beautiful and so unfortunate,
liscovered The duke of Norfolk, allured by appearances so
jy the mi- plausible and flattering, did not scruple to forget the
’isters duties of a subject, and the submissive obligation in
3 1 ' which he had bound himself to Elizabeth never more to
interfere in the affairs of the Scottish princess. Ri-
dolphi, in this forward state of the business, advised
him to address letters to the pope, the king of Spain,
and the duke of Alva, expressive of his concurrence in
the design, and exciting their activity and resolution.
He even produced despatches framed for this pur¬
pose ; and while he entreated the duke to subscribe
them, he offered to carry them himself to Flanders,
Rome, and Spain. The duke of Norfolk, who was
ambitious and timid, disposed to treason, and unfit for
it, hesitated whether he should subscribe the letters ;
and at length refused to proceed to that extremity. He
yet allowed the bishop of Ross, and Barker his servant,
to go to the Spanish ambassador to express his approba¬
tion of the measures of Ridolphi, to acknowledge that
the letters were according to his mind, and to empower
this statesman to certify their authenticity to his court.
Ridolphi, full of hopes, set out to execute his commis¬
sion, He passed first to the duke of Alva, to whom he
communicated the transactions in which he had been-
engaged, and with whom he held many conferences.
There was at this time at Brussels Charles Bailly, a
servant of the queen of Scots ; and Ridolphi, after dis¬
closing to him his proceedings with v\lva, entrusted
him with letters to her, to the duke of Norfolk, the
Spanish ambassador, and the bishop of Ross. When this
messenger reached Calais, a letter was delivered to him
from the bishop of Ross, desiring him to leave his des¬
patches with the governor of that place. From inexpe¬
rience and vanity he neglected this notice; and being
searched at Dover, his letters, books, and clothes, were
seized, and he himself sent to London, and imprisoned
in the Marshalsea. The bishop of Ross, full of apprehen¬
sions, applied toLordCobham, the warden of the cinque
ports, who was friendly to the duke of Norfolk ; and
obtaining by his means the packet of despatches from
Ridolphi, he substituted another in its place, which
contained letters of no danger or usefulness. He had
also the dexterity to convey intelligence of this trick
to Bailly, and to admonish him to preserve a profound
silence, and not to be afraid. This simple and un¬
practised agent had, however, excited suspicions by the
symptoms of terror he had exhibited on being taken,
and by exclaiming, that the despatches he brought
would involve his own destruction and that of others.
At his first examination he confessed nothing ; but be¬
ing sent to the Tower, and put on the rack, he re¬
vealed his conversations with Ridolphi, and declared,
that the despatches which he had brought had been de-
LAND. 743
livered to the bishop of Ross. An order was granted Scotland,
for taking the bishop into custody. Having been a- -v—1
ware, however, of his perilous situation, his house was
searched in vain for treasonable papers; and he thought
to screen himself from answering any interrogatories
under the sanctity of his character as the ambassador
of an independent princess.
An unexpected incident excited, in the mean time, The duke’«
new suspicions and alarms. Mary being desirous offriends and
transmitting 2000 crowns to the lord Herries to ad-s^rvain?
vance her interests in Scotland, the duke of Norfolkl^^'g'
undertook to convey it to him with safety. He in trust-gainst him-
ed it to the charge of his confidants Hickford and
Barker, who putting it into a bag with despatches from
their master to Lord Herries, ordered a servant called
Broxvn to carry it to Bannister ; who, being at this time
on the border could forward it to Scotland. Brown,
suspicious or corrupted, instead of proceeding on his
errand, carried the bag and its contents to Sir William
Cecil, now Lord Burleigh. The privy-council, deeming
it treason to send money out of the realm for the
use of the friends of Mary, whom they affected to con¬
sider as enemies, ordered Hickford and Barker to be •
apprehended. The rack extorted from them whatever
they knew to the prejudice of their master. Hickford
gave intelligence of the fatal discourse and the letters
from Mary, which he had preserved in opposition to
the orders given to him. All the proceedings between
the queen of Scots, the duke of Norfolk, the bishop
of Ross, and Ridolphi, were brought to light. A
guard wus placed on the house of the duke of Nor¬
folk, in order to prevent his escape. Sir Ralph Sad¬
ler, Sir Thomas Smith, Sir Henry Nevil, and Dr Wil¬
son, were- commissioned to examine him ; and being
impressedrwith the belief that the discourse and the let¬
ters had been destroyed, he positively denied that he
had any concern in the affairs of the queen of Scots,
or any knowledge of them whatever. He was com¬
mitted to the Tower a close prisoner. Bannister by this
time was taken; and he confirmed the relations of Hick¬
ford and Barker. In the course of their discoveries,
there appeared reasons of suspicion against many persons
of rank and distinction. The earls of Arundel and
Southampton, the lord Cobham, Mr Thomas Cobham
his brother, Sir Thomas Stanley, Sir Henry Percy, and
other gentlemen who w-ere friendly to the queen of
Scots and the duke of Norfolk, wrere ordered to be
lodged in different prisons ; and the rack, and the ex¬
pectation of a pardon, drew from them the fullest con¬
fessions. The duke was altogether unable to defend
himself. The concurring testimonies of his friends and
servants, with the discourse and the letters, wrhich he
fondly imagined had been committed to the flames,
were communicated to him. He was overwhelmed
with amazement and distress ; and exclaimed, that he
had been betrayed and undone. He made ample ac¬
knowledgments of his guilt, and had no foundation oi
hope but in the mercy of his sovereign.
By the confession of the duke himself, and from ail
the inquiries which had been made by the ministers of
Elizabeth, it appeared obvious beyond a doubt, that 8J1
the bishop of Ross had been the principal contriver oP^jn^'^u
the conspiracy. Ridolphi had acted under his direc- piexing
tion, and he had excited the duke of Norfolk. He had condition
even proceeded to the extremity of advising that noble- ’^sllop
man es
744
SCOTLAND,
Scotland. man to put himself at the head of a select band of ad-
 herents, and to seize boldly the person of Elizabeth,
In his examinations he was treated Avith great i-igour
and insult. But he made an able defence, and peremp¬
torily refused to make any answer to interrogatories.
The counsellors of Elizabeth Avere disturbed Avith his
obstinacy ; and having certified him, that the rack
avouM soon render him more pliant, he was ordered in¬
to close confinement in a dark apartment of the ToAver.
When he had remained a few days in this melan¬
choly situation, four privy-counsellors, the lord-ad¬
miral, the lord Burleigh, Sir Francis Knollys, and
Sir Thomas Smith, Avent to the ToAver, and caused
him to be brought to them to the lieutenant’s lodging.
After having assured him that he was charged by all
the prisoners as the principal contriver of the conspi-
racy, they insisted, in the name of their sovereign, that
he should explain fully the part he had acted. The
confessions of the duke of Norfolk and his servants, of
the lord Lumley, Sir Thomas Stanley, and other gen¬
tlemen, with the discourse and despatches of the queen
of Scots, Avere set before him. They now protested
on their honour, that if he would make a free and open
declaration of his proceedings, it should be employed
neither against himself, nor against any other person ;
but that if he should continue to be resolute in refusing
to give this satisfaction to their queen, avIio Avas anxious
to search the matter to the bottom, they were instruct¬
ed to let him know, that she avouM absolutely consider
him as a private person, and order him to be tried and
executed as a traitor. In this extremity he accepted
the conditions held out to him, and disclosed minutely
all the transactions of the principal parties in the con¬
spiracy. But Avhile he described the offences of his mis¬
tress, the duke of Norfolk, and himself, he could not
avoid to lessen their blame by apologies. It was natu¬
ral, he said, for the queen of Scots to exert the most
strenuous endeavours in her poAArer to recover her free¬
dom and croAvn ; and the methods she adopted to obtain
her purposes cught to be considered in connexion Avith
the arts of Elizabeth, who pertinaciously denied her ac¬
cess to her presence, Avho kept her a close prisoner in
contempt of all the principles of humanity and justice,
and Avho afforded an open and powerful assistance to her
enemies. The duke of Norfolk he Avas earnest to ex¬
cuse on the foundation of the advances which had been
made toAvards his marriage with the queen of Scots.
Their plighted love, and their engagements, did not
allow him to forsake her. As for himself, he was her
ambassador and her servant; and being highly indebted
to her generosity and kindness, he could not abandon
her in captivity and distress AA'ithout incurring the guilt
of the most sinful treachery and ingratitude. The dar¬
ing proposal he had made to seize the person of Eliza¬
beth was the point, he observed, Avhich seemed to press
on him the most severely ; and he intreated them to be¬
lieve, that he had moved it only with the view of trying
the courage of the duke of Norfolk.—The privy-coun¬
cillors of Elizabeth were now in possession of all the
evidence they could expect in this important business.
Norfolk was admonished to prepare for his trial; and
Bishop Lesly perceived, that though he might escape
Avith his life, he Avould never more be permitted to re¬
side in England, and to act there as the ambassador,
the minister, and the friend of the queen of Scots,
The defeat of the duke of Norfolk’s conspiracy Avas Scotland,
a bloAv to Mary Avhich she never recovered. ’ Her most' s—J
faithful friends were languishing in prisons on her ac- 81,2
count; she had no longer the counsels of the bishop of fairsruined
Itoss; and the Spanish ambassador, who had entered by the fail,
into her concerns with an unscrupulous cordiality, had ureof Nor,
been ordered to withdraw from England. The trial *0}k’s “ft"
and condemnation of Norfolk soon folloAved, and^,i)lraCy,
plunged her into the most calamitous distress. sis
The massacre of the Protestants at Paris in 1572 and by the
proved also extremely detrimental to her. It AAras in- massacre
terpreted to be a consequence of the confederacy which
had been formed at Bayonne for the extermination of
the reformed. The Protestants were everywhere trans¬
ported with rage against the Papists. Elizabeth pre¬
pared herself against an attack from the Catholic powers;
and was haunted Avith the notion that they meant to in¬
vade her kingdom, and to give it to the queen of Scots,
Her ambassador at Paris, Sir Francis Walsingham, aug¬
mented her apprehensions and terror. He compared
her Aveakness Avith the strength of her enemies, and as¬
sured her that if they should possess themselves of Scot- 814
land, she avouUI soon cease to be a queen. He repre- Waking-
sented Mary as the great cause of the perils that threat- ham conn,
ened her personal safety and the tranquillity of her ]^ii:zia'
kingdom ; and as violent diseases required violent reme-
dies, he scrupled not to counsel her to unite Scotland death,
to her dominions, and to put to death a rival whose
life was inconsistent with her security. The more bi-
gotted Protestants of Scotland differed not very widely
in their sentiments from Sir Francis Walsingham ;
Avhile such of them as were more moderate were still
more attached to their religion than to Mary; and a-
midst the indignation and horror into which the sub¬
jects of Scotland Avere thrown by the sanguinary out¬
rages of Charles IX, and Catharine de Medicis, they
surveyed the sufferings of their sovereign with a dimi¬
nished sympathy. 8]<;
This year the regent, finding himself beset Avith dif- The re-
ficulties Avhich he could not overcome, and the affairs gent dies,
of the nation involved in confusion from which he could ^l^dby"
not extricate them, died of melancholy, and was sue- Morton,
ceeded by the earl of Morton.
During the regency of the earl of Mar, a remark¬
able innovation took place in the church, which de¬
serves to be particularly explained, being no less than
the introduction of Episcopacy instead of the Presbyte- 8jg
rian form of worship. While the earl of Lenox Avas Episcopacy
regent, the archbishop of St AndreAv’s was put to death, introduced
because he was strongly suspected of having had a con-jnt° Scot'
cern in the death of the earl of Murray; after which the1*1*1
earl of Morton procured a grant of the temporalities
of that see. Out of these he allotted a stipend to Mr
John Douglas, a Protestant clergyman, who assumed
the title of archbishop. This violence excited censure
and murmurs. In the language of the times, it was
pronounced to be a profanation of the kirk, and a high
contempt of God ; and it undenvent the scrutiny of the
ministry in applications and complaints to the regent.
The matter Avas doubtless of too much importance to be
overlooked; and a commission of privy-councillors and
clergymen Avas appointed in the name of the king to in¬
quire into it, and to reform and improve the policy of
the church. This commission, on the part of the privy-
council, consisted of the earl of Morton, the lord Iluth-
ven,
SCOT!
Scotian.. vori) Robert abbot of Dunfermline, Mr James Macgill,
Sir John Ballenden, and Colin Campbell of Glenorchie;
and on the part of the church there were named John
Erskine of Dun, and Mr John Winram, Mr Hay, Mr
Lindsay, Mr Pont, and Mr John Craig. The consulta¬
tions and debates were long; and the influence and ma¬
nagement of the earl of Morton directed their determi¬
nations, It was resolved, that liii the majority of the
king, or till tire wisdom of the three estates should be
consulted, the titles of archbishop and bishop should
continue as in the times which preceded the reforma¬
tion ; and that a chapter of learned ministers should be
annexed to every metropolitan or cathedral seat. It
was determined that the sees, as they became vacant,
should be given to those of the Protestant ministry who
were most eminent for their qualifications; that the
archbishops and bishops should exercise no higher juris¬
diction than what was permitted to superintendants; and
that they should be subject to the controul of the gene¬
ra! assemblies of the church. It was agreed, that all
abbots, priors, and other inferior prelates presented to
benefices, should be examined by the bishop or superin-
tendant of the diocese or precinct where the preferment
was situated; and that their fitness to represent the
church in parliament should he duly inquired into. It
was judged that the king and the regent should recom¬
mend qualified persons to vacant bishoprics, and that
the' elections of them should be made by the chapters of
the respective cathedrals. It was ordered that all be¬
nefices with cure under prelacies should be disposed of
only to officiating ministers; that every minister should
receive ordination from the bishop of the diocese, or
the superintendant of the province; and that the bi¬
shops and superintendants, on the ordination of mini¬
sters, should exact an oath from them to recognise the
authority of the king, and to pay canonical obedience
to their ordinary in all things that were lawful.
By th ese artful regulations the earl of Morton did
not mean solely to consult 3'iis own rapacity or that, ot
the nobles. The exaltation of the Protestant church
to be one of the three estates was a consequence of
them ; and the clergy being the strenuous enemies of
Mary, he might by their means secure a decided influ¬
ence in parliament. The earl of Mar, as regent, giving
his sanction to the proceedings of the commission, they
were carried into effect. The delusive expectation ot
wealth, which this revival of Episcopacy held out to
the ministry, was flattering to them; and they bore with
tolerable patience this severe blow that was struck a-
gainst the religious policy of Geneva. Mr John Dou¬
glas was desired to give a specimen ot his gifts in
preaching; and his election took effect,notwithstanding
the opposition that wras made to it by John Knox and
other ecclesiastics, who stood up for the rules and forms
which had been established at the reformation. He was
inaugurated in his office by the bishop of Caithness, Mr
John Spotswood superintendant of Lothian, and Mr Da¬
vid Lindsay, who, violating the book of discipline, com¬
municated to him his character and admission by the
imposition of hands. This was a singular triumph to
Episcopacy; and the exaltation of Douglas included
other peculiarities remarkable and offensive. He denied
that he had made any simoniacal agreement with the
earl of Morton; yet it was known that the revenues of
the archbishopric were almost wholly engrossed by that
Vol. XVJII. Part II.
A N D. 745
nobleman. He had promised to resign, upon his in- Scotland,
stalment, the office of rector which beheld in the uni-
versity of St Andrew’s : yet he refused to execute this
engagement. He was in a very advanced age ; and
his mental qualifications, which had never been emi¬
nent, were in a state of decay.
A general assembly, which was held at St Andrew’s,
considering the high moment of the new regulations
introduced into the church, appointed commissioners to
go to John Knox, who was at this time indisposed, and
to consult with him deliberately in his house, whether
they were agreeable to the word of God. But from the
ai ts of the nobles, or from the sickness of Knox, it hap¬
pened that this conference was not carried into effect.
In a general assembly, however, which met at Perth,
the new polity was reported and examined. The names
of archbishop, dean, archdeacon, chancellor, and chap¬
ter, were excepted against as Popish distinctions, and
as slanderous to the ears of pious Christians. A wish
was expressed that they might he exchanged for titles
less profane and superstitious ; and an unanimous pro¬
testation was made, that the new polity was merely a
temporary expedient, and should only continue till a
more perfect order should be obtained from the king,
the regent, and the nobility. This tolerating resolution
left the new polity in its full force ; and a colourable
foundation was now established for the laity to partake
in the profits of bishoprics. The simoniacal paction of
Morton and Douglas was not long a matter of singula¬
rity. Mr James Boyd was appointed to the archbishop¬
ric of Glasgow, Mr James Paton to the bishopric of
Dunkeld, and Mr Andrew Graham to the see of Dum-
hlain ; and these compromising ecclesiastics, on being
allowed competencies to themselves, gratified their no¬
ble friends with the greatest proportion of their reve¬
nues. The virtue of the common people approved not
this spirit of traffic ; and the bishops of the new polity
were treated openly with reproach or with ridicule. 817
The year 1572 is also remarkable for the death of Death of
John Knox, whose mistaken zeal had contributed not a Johnknox*
little to bring on the queen those misfortunes with which
she was now oppressed. Neither by his death, however,
nor by the change of the regency, could she now be
relieved. The earl of Morton was so much devoted to
Elizabeth, that he received particular instructions from
her how to govern the young king. His elevation, in¬
deed, gave the finishing stroke to the queen’s affairs. sis
He employed himself with success in dividing her party EHrabeth
among themselves, and by his means the duke of Cha-^0,1
telherault and the earl of Huntly were induced to for-Mary to
sake her. As for Elizabeth, she was bent on putting death.
Mary to death ; but as no crime could be alleged a-
gainst her in England, she thought it proper that she
should be carried back to suffer death in her own domi¬
nions. This proposal, however, was rejected; and the
friends who remained true to Mary once more began to
indulge themselves in hopes ot succours from Fiance. 819
New misfortunes, however, awaited them.—The castle 1 ^stIe
of Edinburgh, which had hitherto been held for the^T1^
queen by Kirkaldy of Grange, was obliged to sui render ken by the
to an English army commanded by Sir William Drury. English
Kirkaldy was solemnly assured by the English comman- party,
der of his life and liberty ; hut Elizabeth violated this
capitulation, and commanded him to be delivered up to
the regent. A hundred of his relations offered to be-
•j- 5 B come
746
S C 0 T I, A N D.
821
Doath of
Charles
IX and the
duke of
Ipnce of
IVJorlon,
Scotland. Come vassals to Morton, and to pay him 3000 merks
1 \r—> yearly, if he would spare his life; but in vain : Kirkal-
dyand bis brother Sir James were hanged at Edinburgh.
Maitland of Lethington, who was taken at the same
time, was poisoned in the prison house of Leith.
go0 The jealousy of Elizabeth did not diminish with the
Mary treat- decline of Mary’s cause. She now treated her with
ed with more rigour than ever, and patronized Morton in all
greater ri- ^]ie en0rmities which he committed against her friends,
“yg,! mn Lesly bishop of Iloss had been long imprisoned in Eng-
An. 1575. land, on account of his concern in the duke of Nor¬
folk’s conspiracy. Morton earnestly solicited the queen
to deliver him up, and would undoubtedly have put him
to death; but as he had acted in the character of am¬
bassador from Mary, this was judged impolitic, and the
prelate was suffered to depart for France. When he
arrived there, he endeavoured in vain to stir up the
emperor, the pope, and the duke of Alva, to exert
themselves in behalf of the queen of Scotland; and,
in 1571*, the misfortunes of his royal mistress were far¬
ther aggravated by the death of Charles IX. of France,
and her uncle the cardinal of Lorraine. The regent,
Lorraine, in the mean time, ruled with the most despotic sway.
An. 1574, He twice coined base money in the name of his sove¬
reign ; and after putting it into circulation the second
time, he issued orders for its passing only for its intrin¬
sic value. The duke of Chatelherault happening to
82 die this year, the regent took every method of ruining
Oppression all those of his name and family. He committed to
and vio- pr|son a]i t]le Hamiltons, and every person of distinc¬
tion who had fought for the queen at the battle of Lang-
side, and compelled them to buy their liberty at an
exorbitant price. He instigated Douglas of Loehleven
to assassinate Lord Arbroath, and it was with difficulty
that the latter escaped the ambush that was laid for
him. Reid, the bishop of Orkney, having left bis es¬
tate to pious and charitable uses, the regent prohibited
the execution of the will, and took on himself the ad¬
ministration. To be rich was a sufficient crime to ex¬
cite his vengeance. He entered the warehouses of
merchants, and confiscated their property; and if he
wanted a pretence to justify his conduct, the judges
and lawyers were ready at his call.
In this disastrous period the clergy augmented the
general confusion. Mr Andrew Melvil had lately re¬
turned from Geneva; and the discipline of its assembly
being considered by him as the most perfect model of
ecclesiastical polity, he was infinitely offended with the
introduction of Episcopacy into Scotland. His learn¬
ing was considerable, and his skill in languages was pro¬
found. He was fond of disputation, hot, violent, and
pertinacious. The Scottish clergy wrerc in a humour
to attend to him; and his merit was sufficient to excite
their admiration. Instigated by his practices, John
Drury, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, called in
question, in a general assembly, the lawfulness of the
bishops and the authority of chapters in electing them.
Melvil, after commending his zeal and his motion, de¬
claimed concerning the flourishing state of the establish¬
ment of Geneva; and having recited the opinions of
Calvin and Eeza on ecclesiastical government, main-
tained, that there should be no office-bearers in the
church whose titles were not seen in the book of God.
Me affirmed, that the term bishop was nowhere to be
’ound hi it in the sense in which it was commonly un¬
825
Opposition
to Episco¬
pacy.
derstood, as Christ allowed not any superiority among Scotlamj,
ministers. He contended that Christ was the only lord
of his church, and that the ministers of the word were
all equal in degree and power. He urged, that the
-estate of the bishops, besides being unlawful, had
grown unseemly with corruptions ; and that if they
were not removed out of the church, it would fall in¬
to decay, and endanger the interests of religion. His
sentiments were received with approbation; and though
the archbishop of Glasgow’, with the bishops of Dun-
keld, Galloway, Brechin, Dumblain, and the Isles, were
present in this assembly, they ventured not to defend
their vocation. It was resolved, that the name of bishop
conferred no distinction or rank; that the office was not
moi'e honourable than that of the other ministers; and
that by the word of God their functions consisted in
preaching, in administering the sacraments, and in ex¬
ercising ecclesiastical discipline with the consent of the
elders. The Episcopal estate, in the mean time, was
w’atched with anxious care; and the faults and deme¬
rits of every kind, which were found in individuals,
were charged on the order with rudeness and asperity.
In a new’ assembly this subject wras ag-ain canvassed.
It was moved, whether bishops, as constituted in Scot¬
land, had any authority for their functions from the
Scriptures ? After long debates, it was thought prudent
to avoid an explicit determination of this important
question. But a confirmation was bestowed on the re¬
solution of the former assembly; and it was establish¬
ed as a rule, that every bishop should make choice of
a particular church within his diocese, and should ac¬
tually discharge the duties of a minister.
The regent, disturbed with these proceedings of the
brethren, was disposed to amuse and to deceive them.
He sent a messenger to advise them not to infringe
and disfigure the established forms; and to admonish
them, that if their aversion to Episcopacy wras insur¬
mountable, it wmuld become them to think of some
mode of ecclesiastical government to which they could
adhere w ith constancy. The assembly taking advan¬
tage of this message, made a formal intimation to him,
that they would diligently frame a lasting form of po¬
lity, and submit it to the privy-council. They ap¬
pointed, accordingly, a committee of the brethren
for this purpose. The business w*as too agreeable to
be neglected ; and in a short time Mr David Lindsay,
Mr James Lawson, and Mr Robert Pont, were de¬
puted to wait on the regent with a new scheme of ec¬
clesiastical government. After reminding him, that
he had been a notable instrument in purging the realm
of Popery, and begging that he would consult with
them on any of its articles which he thought improper
or incomplete, they informed him, that they did not
account it to be a perfect work, to which nothing could
be added, or from which nothing could be taken away ;
for that they would alter and improve it, as the Al¬
mighty God might farther reveal his will unto them.
The regent, taking from them their schedule, replied,
that he would appoint certain persons of the privy-
council to confer with them. A conference was even
begun on the subject of their new establishment; but
from his arts, or from the troubles of the times, no
advances w ere made in it. 8<>4
This year the earl of Bothwel died in Denmark ; Death of
and in hie last moments, being stung with remorse, he Bothwel.
confessed
SCOTLAND.
747
Scotland, confessed that he had beea guilty of the king’s murder,
revealed the names of the persons who were his accom¬
plices, and with the most solemn protestations declared
the honour and innocence of the queen. His confession
was transmitted to Elizabeth by the king of Denmark ;
but was suppressed by her with an anxious solici-
825 tude. (x)
Morton is The regent still continued his enormities, till having
compelled rendered himself obnoxious to the best part of the no-
his'office bility, he was, in 1577, compelled to resign his office
of recent. into ^le hands of James VI.; but as his majesty was
An. 1577. then only twelve years of age, a general council of twelve
peers was appointed to assist him in the administration.
Next year, however, the earl of Morton having found
means to gain the favour of the young king, procured
the dissolution of this council; and thus being left the
sole adviser of the king, he hoped once more to be rais¬
ed to his former greatness. This could not be done,
however, without keeping the king in a kind of capti¬
vity, so that nobody could have access to him but him¬
self. The king, sensible of his situation, sent a despatch
to the earls of Argyle and Athole, intreating them to
relieve him. An army for this purpose was soon raised ;
and Morton’s partisans were in danger of being defeat¬
ed, had not the opposite party dreaded the vengeance
of Elizabeth, who was resolved to support the earl of
Morton. In consequence of this a negociation was en¬
tered into, by which it was agreed, that the earl of Ar¬
gyle, with some others, should be admitted into the
king’s council; and that four noblemen should be cho¬
sen by each party to consider of some proper method
826 °f preserving tranquillity in the nation.
He poisons This pacification did not greatly diminish the power
the earl of 0f Morton. He soon got rid of one of his principal
Athole* antagonists, the earl of Athole, by poisoning him at an
entertainment; after which he again gave a loose to
his resentments against the house of Hamilton, whom
he persecuted in the most cruel manner. By these
means, however, he drew on himself a general hatred ;
and he was supplanted in the king’s favour by the lord
An. 1579. d’Aubigny, who came from France in the year 1579,
and was created earl of Lenox. The next year Mor¬
ton was suspected of an intention to deliver up the king
to Elizabeth, and a guard was appointed to prevent
any attempts of this kind. The queen of England
endeavoured to support her zealous partisan ; but with¬
out effect. He was tried, condemned, and executed, as
being concerned in the murder of Darnley. At the
place of execution, it is said that he confessed his guilt;
but of this the evidence is not quite satisfactory. It is
the murder however certain that he acknowledged himself privy to
of Darn. the plot formed against the life of the king ; and when
one of the clergymen attending him before his execu¬
tion observed, that by his own confession he merited
death in foreknowing and concealing the murder, he re¬
plied, “ Ay but, Sir, had I been as innocent as St
Stephen, or as guilty as Judas, I must have come to the
scaffold. Fray, what ought I to have done in this
827
Is con¬
demned
and exe¬
cuted for
ley.
matter ? You knew not the king’s weakness, Sir. If I Scotland-
had informed him of the plot against his life, he would v
have revealed it even to his enemies and those con¬
cerned in the design ; and I would, it may be, have
lost my own life, for endeavouring to preserve his to
no purpose. ” 828
The elevation of King James, and the total overthrow Monstrous
of Morton, produced no beneficial consequences to the^1^9^
unfortunate Mary. In the year 1581, she addressed to ^jary
a letter to Castelnau the French ambassador, in which An. 158L
she complained that her body was so weak, and her
limbs so feeble, that she was unable to walk. Castel¬
nau therefore intreated Elizabeth to mitigate a little
the rigours of Mary’s confinement; which being refu¬
sed, the latter had thoughts of resigning her claims to
the crown both of England and Scotland into the
hands of her son, and even of advising him to use every
effort in his power to establish his claim to the English
crown as preferable to that of Elizabeth. But being
apprehensive of danger from this violent method, she
again contented herself with sending to the court of
England ineffectual memorials and remonstrances. Eli¬
zabeth, instead of taking compassion on her miserable
situation, assiduously encouraged every kind of disorder
in the kingdom, on purpose to have the queen more 829
and more in her power. 1 bus tire bcottish malcon-rfhe kiiig
tents finding themselves always supported, a conspiracy taken pri-
was at last entered into, the design cf which was tosoner>
hold James in captivity, and to overthrow the authority
of Arran and Lenox, who were now the principal
persons in the kingdom. 'Ihe chief actors in this con¬
spiracy were the earls of Cowrie, Mar, and Gleri-
cairn, the lords Lindsay and Boyd, with the masters of
Glammis and Oliphant. By reason of the youth and
imbecility of the king, they easily accomplished their
purpose ; and having got him in their power, they
promised him his liberty, provided he would command
Lenox to depart out of the kingdom. I his was ac¬
cordingly done ; but the king found himself as much a
prisoner as before. The more effectually to detain him
in custody, the rebels constrained him to issue a procla¬
mation, wherein he declared himself to be at perfect li¬
berty. Lenox was preparing to advance to the king s
relief with a considerable body of forces, when he was
disconcerted by the king’s peremptory command to
leave Scotland ; on which he retired to Dumbarton, in
order to wait for a more favourable opportunity. The
earl of Arran being more forward, was committed to
close custody for some time, but afterwards confined
only in his house of Kinneil. The rebels took on
them the title of “ lords for the reformation of the
state. ” 859
The clergy, who had all this time been exceedingly which is
averse to Episcopacy, how gave open countenance t0 “JjJP™^
the lords of the reformation. On the 1 Uh ot Octo-^^
ber 1582, they made a solemn act, by which the wid 1582,
qf Ruthven, as the capture of the king was called, was
deemed a service most acceptable to all who feared God,
5 B 2 respected
(x) Jebb, vol. ii. p. 227. It has never been published. Keith and other historians have preserved rv hat they
call the carl of Bothwe/l’s declaration at his death, and account it to be genuine. 1 )eir partia.it} or i ai} in
duced them the more easily to fall into this mistake. The paper they give is demonstratively a forgery ; and
the want of the real confession of Bothwell is still a deficiency in our history.
748
S C O T L A N D.
Scotland.
831
jVlary
writes to
Elizabeth,
832
who acts
with her
usual per¬
fidy.
Ah. 1583.
833
The king
escapes
from cap¬
tivity.
respected the true religion, and were anxious for the
preservation of the king and state ; and every minister
was commanded to declaim from his pulpit on the
expediency of this measure, and to exhort the people
to concur with the lords in prosecuting the full deli¬
verance of the church, and the perfect reformation of
the commonwealth. Not satisfied with this approba¬
tion of the clergy, the conspirators got their proceed¬
ings approved by the estates of Scotland, as “ a good,
a thankful, and a necessary service to the king. ” At
the same time it was enacted, that no civil or crimi¬
nal suit of any kind should ever be instituted against
the persons concerned in it. Soon after this, Lenox
took his leave of Scotland, and sailed for France, where
he died.
The unfortunate Mary was driven to despair when
she heard that her son was taken prisoner by rebels
who had been instigated by Elizabeth. In this distress,
she addressed a most spirited letter to Elizabeth, in
which she at once asserted her own innocence, and set
forth the conduct of Elizabeth herself in such lan¬
guage as must have put the most impudent of her ad¬
versaries to the blush. Elizabeth could not reply, and
therefore had recourse to her usual arts of treacherous
negoeiation. New terms were proposed to Mary, who
would gladly have submitted almost to any thing, pro¬
vided she could procure her freedom. It was propos¬
ed, as had often been done before, to associate the
queen of Scots with her son in the government; but
as this was to be referred to the king, who was in the
hands of Elizabeth’s friends, and to the parliament,
wdio were under the power of the same faction, it is
easy to see that no such association ever could take
place, or indeed was ever intended.
After the death of Lenox, the conspirators appre¬
hended no further danger, little supposing that a prince
so young and unexperienced could deliver himself from
captivity. This, however, in the year 1583, he efiect-
ed in the following manner. A convention of the
estates had been summoned to meet at St Andrew’s.
James, whom the earl of Arran, notwithstanding his
confinement at Kinneil, had found means to instruct
and advise, pi*etended a desire of visiting his grand-uncle
the earl of March, who resided at St Andrew’s, and
was for that purpose permitted to repair thither a few
days before the convention. The better to deceive the
earls of Gowrie, Angus, and Mar, who attended him,
he took up his lodgings in an old inn, which was quite
open and defenceless. But having expressed a desire to
see the castle of St Andrew’s, he was admitted into it;
and Colonel Stuart, who commanded the castle, after
admitting a few of his retinue, ordered the gates to be
shut. The earls of Argyle, Marischal, Montrose, and
Rothes, who were in concert with the king, hastened
to make him an offer of their swords. The opposite
faction, being unprepared for hostilities, were filled with
consternation. Of all the conspirators, the earl of
Gowrie alone was admitted into the king’s presence, by
the favour of Colonel Stuart, and received his pardon.
The earls of March, Argyle, Gowrie, Marischal, and
Rothes, were appointed to be a council for assisting the
king in the management of his affairs; and soon after
this, James set out for Edinburgh. The king no soon¬
er found himself at liberty, than, by the advice of his
privy council, he issued a proclamation of mercy to the
conspirators ; but they, flattering themselves with the Scotland,
hopes of support from Elizabeth, obstinately refused to
accc-pt of his pardon. In consequence of this, they
were denounced rebels. Elizabeth failed not to give
them secretly ail the encouragement she could; and the
clergy uttered the most seditious discourses against the
king and government; and while they railed against
Popery, they themselves maintained openly the very
characteristic and distinguishing mark of Popery, name¬
ly, that the clerical was entirely independent of the ci¬
vil power. g-j
At last the rebels broke forth into open hostilities ; Far! of
hut by the vigilance of Arran, the earl of Gowrie, who Go-vn'ti
had arrain beerun his treasonable
condemned
practices, was com-^ ^
milted to custody ; while the rest, unable to oppose ^ 1
the king, who appeared against them with a formidable
army, were obliged to fly into England, where Eliza¬
beth, with her usual treachery, protected them.
The earl of Gowrie suffered as a traitor; but the seve¬
rity exercised against him did not intimidate the clergy.
They still continued their rebellious practices, until the
king being informed that they were engaged in a cor¬
respondence with some of the fugitive lords, citations
were given to their leaders to appear before the privy- g--
council. The clergymen, not daring to appear, fled to Proceed-
England ; and on the 20th of May 158T, the kingingsag^nst
summoned a convention of the estates, on purpose tot!1°cl1crr?r
humble the pride of the church in an effectual manner. * ‘
In this assembly the raid of Rutiiven was declared to
be rebellion, according to a declaration whieii had for¬
merly been made by the king. And, as it had grown
into a custom with the promoters of sedition and the
enemies of order, to decline the judgment of the king
and the council, when called before them to answer for
rebellious or contumelious speeches, uttered from the
pulpit or in public places, an ordination was made, as¬
serting that they had complete powers to judge concern¬
ing persons of every degree and function ; and declar¬
ing, that every act of opposition to their jurisdiction
should be accounted treason. It was enacted, that the
authority of parliament, as conslituted by the free votes
of the three estates, was supreme; and that every at¬
tempt to diminish, alter, or infringe, its power, dignity,
and jurisdiction, should be punished as treason. All
jurisdictions and judgments, all assemblies and conven¬
tions, not approved of by the king and the three estates,
were condemned as unlawful, and prohibited. It was
ordained, that the king might appoint commissioners,
with powers to examine into the delinquencies of clergy¬
men, and, if proper, to deprive them of their benefices.
It was commanded, that clergymen should not for the
future be admitted to the dignity of lords of the session,
or to the administration of any judicature civil or cri¬
minal. An ordination was made, which subjected to
capital punishment all persons who should inquire into
the affairs of state with a malicious curiosity, or who
should utter false and slanderous speeches in sermons,
declamations, or familiar discourse, to the reproach and
contempt of the king, his parents, and progenitors. It
was ordered that a guard, consisting of TO gentlemen,
with a yearly allowance to each of 200/. should con-
tinually attend on the king. This parliament, which Attempts
was full of zeal for the crown, did not overlook the10 suPPress'
history of Buchanan, which about this time was excit-
ing a very general attention. It commanded, that all tory.
persons
S C O T L A N I).
749
Scotland, persons who were possessed of copies of his chronicle,
v—-v“—' and of his treatise on the Scottish government, should
surrender them within 40 days, under the penalty of
200/., in order that they might be purged of the offen¬
sive and extraordinary matters they contained. This
stroke of tyranny was furious and ineffectual. Foreign
nations, as well as his own countrymen, were filled with
the highest admiration of the genius of Buchanan. It
was not permitted that his writings should suffer mutila¬
tion ; they were multiplied in every quarter ; and the
severity exercised against them only served the more to
excite curiosity, and to diffuse his reputation.
The clergy While the parliamentary acts, which struck against
endeavour the importance of the church, were in agitation, the
thein-eh'es m”1*sters deputed Mr David Lindsay to solicit the king
a'Minst thc no statutes should pass which affected theecclesi-
efvil power, astical establishment, without the consultation of the
general assembly. But the earl of Arran having in¬
formation of this commission, defeated it, by committing
Mr Lindsay to prison as a spy for the discontented
nobles. On the publication, however, of these acts by
the heralds, Mr Robert Pont minister of St Cuthbert’s,
and one of the senators of the court of session, with Mr
Walter Balcanqual, protested formally in the name of
the church, that it dissented from them, and that they
were consequently invalid. Having made this protest¬
ation, they instantly fled, and were proclaimed traitors.
By letters and pamphlets, which were artfully spread
among the people, their passions were rouzed against
the king and his council. The ministers of Edinburgh
took the resolution of forsaking their flocks, and retir¬
ing to England. And in an apology circulated by
their management, they anxiously endeavoured to awak¬
en commiseration and pity. They magnified the dangers
which threatened them ; and they held out, in vindica¬
tion of their conduct, the example of the prophets, the
apostles, the martyrs, and of Christ himself, who all con¬
curred, they said, in opposing the ordinations of men,
when contradictory to the will of heaven, and in declin¬
ing the rage of the enemies of God. The king appoint¬
ed his own chaplains and the archbishop of St Andrew’s
to perform the ministerial functions in his capital. The
clergy over Scotland were commanded to subscribe a
declaration, which imported the supremacy of the king
ever the church, and their submission to the authority
of the bishops. The national ferments still increased in
violence. Many ministers refused to subscribe this de¬
claration, and were deprived of their livings. It was
contended, that to make the king supreme over the
church was no better than to set up a new pope, and to
commit treason against Jesus Christ. It was urged, that
to overthrow assemblies and presbyteries, and to give
dominion to bishops, was not only to overset the esta¬
blished polity of the church, but to destroy religion it¬
self. For the bishops were the slaves of the court, were
schismatical in their opinions, and depraved in their
lives. It was affirmed that heresy, atheism, and po¬
pery, would strike a deep root, and grow into strength.
And the people were taught to believe, that the bishops
would corrupt the nation into a resemblance with them¬
selves ; and that there everywhere prevailed dissimula¬
tion and blasphemy, persecution and obscenity, the pro¬
fanation of the Scriptures, and the breach of faith, co¬
vetousness, perjury, and sacrilege. It was reported
abroad, that the ministers alone were entrusted with ec¬
clesiastical functions, and with the sword of the word ; Scotland*
and that it was most wicked and profane to imagine,
that Jesus Christ had ever committed the kevs of the
kingdom of heaven to civil magistrates and their ser¬
vants or deputies.
While the clergy were thus impotently venting their
wrath, Elizabeth, alarmed beyond measure at this sud¬
den revolution, and terrified by a confession extorted by
the rack from one Francis Throgmorton, concerningm,
combination of the Catholic princes to invade England,
began to treat with Mary in a more sincere manner than
usual ; but having gained over to her side the earl of
Arran, tire only man of activity in Scotland, she re¬
solved to proceed to extremities with thequeen of Scots.
The Catholics, both at home and abroad, were inflamed
against her with a boundless and implacable rage. There
prevailed many rumours of plots and conspiracies against
her kingdom and her life. Books were published, which
detailed her cruelties and injustice to Mary in the most
indignant language of reproach, and which recommend¬
ed her assassination as a most meritorious act. The earl
of Arran had explained to her t he practices of the queen.
of Scots with her son, and had discovered the intrigues
of the Catholic princes to gain him to their views. gss
While her sensibilities and fears were severely excruciat- Intended
ing to her, circumstances happened which confirmed y,lva:jlotV^
them, and provoked hey to give the fullest scope to
malignity of her passions. Crichton, a Scottish Jesuit,
passing into his own country, was taken by Netherland
pirates ; and some papers which he had torn in pieces
and thrown into the sea being recovered, were trans¬
mitted to England. Sir William Wade put them to¬
gether with dexterity; and they demonstrated beyond
a doubt, that the invasion of England was concerted by
the Pope, tire king of Spain, and the duke of Guise. S50
About this time, too, a remarkable letter was intercept- Remark¬
ed from Mary to Sir Francis Englefield. She com-a,)!e
plained in it that she could have no reliance on the in-
tegrity of Elizabeth, and that she expected no happy by Eliza-
issue to any treaty which might be opened for her re-beth.
storation and liberty. She urged the advancement of
the “ great plot;” she intimated, that the prince her
son was favourable to the “ designment, ” and disposed
to be directed by her advice; she entreated, that every
delicacy with regard to her own state and condition
should be laid aside without scruple; and she assured
him, that she would most willingly suffer perils and
dangers, and even death itself, to give relief to the op¬
pressed children of the church. These discoveries, so
exasperating to the inquietudes and distresses of Eliza¬
beth, were followed by a deep and general consterna¬
tion. The terror of an invasion spread itself with ra¬
pidity over England ; and the Protestants, while they
trembled for the life of their champion, were still more-
alarmed with the dangers which threatened their reli- -
gion.
In this state of perplexity and distraction, the coun¬
sellors of Elizabeth did not forget that they had been
her instruments in persecuting the queen of Scots, and
of the severities with which she had treated the Catholics.
They were fully sensible, that her greatness and safety
were intimately connected with their own ; and they
concurred in indulging her fears, jealousies, and resent- 840
ment. It was resolved that Mary should perish. An Her death
association was formed, to which persons of every con- resolved
dition on‘
750 SCOT
ocotland. Jitlon and degree were invited. The professed business
of tins association was the preservation of the life of
’'Elizabeth, which it was affirmed was in danger, from a
consphacy to advance some pretended title to the crown;
and its members vowed and protested, by the majesty
-of God, to employ their whole power, their bodies, lives,
and goods, in her service : to withstand, as well by force
-of arms as by other methods of revenge, all persons, of
whatever nation or rank, who should attempt in any
form to invade and injure her safety or her life, and ne¬
ver to desist from the forcible pursuit of them till they
should be completely exterminated. They also vowed
and protested, in the presence of the eternal God, to
prosecute to destruction any pretended successor, by
whom, or for whom, the detestable deed of the assassi¬
nation of Elizabeth should be attempted or committed.
The earl of Leicester was in a particular manner the
patron of this association ; and the whole influence of
Elizabeth and her ministers was exerted to multiply the
subscription to a bond or league which was to prepare
the way, and to be a foundation for accomplishing the
full destruction and ruin of the Scottish queen.
A combination so resolute and so fierce, which point¬
ed at the death of Mary, which threatened her titles to
the crown of England, and which might defeat the
succession of her son, could not fail to excite in her bo¬
som the bitterest anxieties and perturbation. Weary of
her sad and long captivity, broken down with calami-
841 ties, dreading afflictions still more cruel, and willing to
Shepropos-take away from Elizabeth every possible pretext of se-
cs a sthemeverjiy5 s]le now framed a scheme of accommodation, to
modation" w^'c^ no reasonable objection could be made. By Naw,
her secretary, she presented it to Elizabeth and her pri¬
vy-council. She protested in it, that if her liberty should
be granted to her, she would enter into the closest amity
with Elizabeth, and pay an observance to her above
every other prince of Christendom % that she would for¬
get all the injuries tvith which she had been loaded, ac-
knowdedge Elizabeth to be the rightful queen of Eng¬
land, abstain from any claim to her crown during her
life, renounce the title and arms of England, which she
had usurped by the command of her husband the king
of France, and reprobate the bull from Rome which
had deposed the English queen. She likewise protested,
that she would enter into the association which had been
formed for the security of Elizabeth; and that she would
conclude with her a defensive league, provided that it
should not be prejudicial to the ancient alliance betwreen
Scotland and France ; and that nothing should be done
during the life of the English queen, or after her death,
to invalidate her titles to the crown of England, or
those of her son. As a confirmation of these articles,
she professed that she would consent to stay in England
for some time as an hostage ; and that if she was per¬
mitted to retire from the dominions of Elizabeth, she
would surrender proper and acceptable persons as sure¬
ties. She also protested, that she would make no alte¬
rations in Scotland; and that, on the repeal of what
had been enacted there to her disgrace, she would bury
in oblivion all the injuries she had received from her
subjects ; that she would recommend to the king her
son those counsellors who were most attached to Eng¬
land, and that she would employ herself to reconcile
him to the fugitive nobles ; that she would take no steps
respecting his marriage without acquainting the queen
LAND.
of England ; and that, to give the greater firmness to Scotland,
the proposed accommodation, it uras her desire that he -—v——'
should be called as a party : and, in fine, she affirmed,
that she would procure the king of France and the
princes of Lorraine to be guarantees for the perform- 842
ance of her engagements. Elizabeth, who was skilful Hypocrisy
in hypocrisy, discovered the most decisive symptoms ofincl trea--
satisfaction and joy when these overtures were commu-^^^
nicated to her. She made no advances, however, to
conclude an accommodation with Mary; and her mi¬
nisters and courtiers exclaimed against lenient and paci¬
fic measures. It was loudly insisted, that the liberty of
Mary would be the death of Elizabeth ; that her asso¬
ciation with her son would be the ruin both of England
and Scotland ; and that her elevation to power would
extend the empire of Popery, and give a deadly blow
to the doctrines of the Reformation.
In the mean time, an act of attainder had passed
against the fugitive nobles, and their estates and ho¬
nours were forfeited to the king; who, not satisfied
with this, sent Patrick master of Gray, to demand from
the queen of England a surrender of their persons. As
this ambassador had resided for some time in France,
and been intimate with the duke of Guise, he was re¬
commended to Mary: but being a man of no prin¬
ciple, he easily suffered himself to be corrupted by E-
lizabeth ; and while be pretended friendship to the un¬
fortunate queen, he discovered all that he knew of her 843
intentions and those of her son. The most scandalousFalse re¬
falsehoods were forged against Mary ; and the less shePort.s ra*s^
was apparently able to execute, the more she was said'j^n of 6
to design. That an unhappy woman, confined andscots.
guarded with the utmost vigilance, who had not for
many years sufficient interest to procure a decent treat¬
ment for herself, should be able to carry on such close
and powerful negociations with different princes as
were imputed to her, is an absurdity which it must for
ever be impossible to explain. That she had an amour
with her keeper the earl of Shrewsbury, as was now
reported, might be ; though of this there is no proof.
This, however, could scarcely be treason against Eli¬
zabeth : yet, on account of this, Mary was commit¬
ted to the charge of Sir Amias Paulet and Sir Drue
Drury, zealous puritans, and who, it was hoped, would
treat her with such severity as might drive her to de¬
spair, and induce her to commit some rash action.— g44
The earl of Leicester, said to be Elizabeth’s paramour, Assassins
even ventured to send assassins, on purpose, by the mur-sent to
der of Mary, at once to deliver his mistress from her™“rcler
fears. But the new keepers of the castle, though re- ^n‘ 1585i
ligious bigots, were men of strict probity, and rejected
with scorn such an infamous transaction. In 1585,
Mary began to feel all the rigours of a severe imprison¬
ment. She had been removed from Sheffield to the
castle of Tutbury ; and under her new keepers she ex¬
perienced a treatment which was in the highest degree
unjust, disrespectful, and acrimonious. Two apartments 845
or chambers only were allotted to her, and they were She is con-
small and inconvenient, meanly furnished, and so fullti'wd, and
of apertures and chinks, that they could not protect
her against the inclemencies of the weather. The liber¬
ty of going abroad for pleasure or exercise was denied
to her. She was assailed by rheumatisms and other
maladies; and her physician would not undertake to
effect a cure, or even to procure her any ease, unless
she
S C O T
Scotland. s’i e shou]j be removed to a more commodious dwelling.
v Applications for this purpose were frequently made,
and uniformly rejected. Here, however, her own af¬
flictions did not extinguish in her mind her sensibility
for the misfortunes of others ; and she often indulged
herself in the satisfaction of employing a servant to go
through the village of Tutbury in search of objects of
distress, to whom she might deal out her charity. But
her inhuman keepers, envying her this pleasure, com¬
manded her to abstain from it. Imputing their rigour
to a suspicious fidelity, she desired that her servant
might, cn these occasions, be accompanied by one of
the soldiers of their guard, or by the constable of the
village. But they would not after their prohibition.
They refused to her the exercise of the Christian duty
of dispensing an alms ; and they would not allow her
the soft consolation of moistening her eye with sor¬
rows not her own. To insult her the more, the castle
of Tutbury was converted into a common jail. A
young man, w hose crime was the profession of the Ro¬
mish religion, was committed to a chamber which was
opposite to her window, in order that he might be per¬
secuted in her sight with the greatest cruelty. Not¬
withstanding his cries and resistance, he was dragged
every morning to hear prayers, and to join in the Pro¬
testant worship; and after enduring several weeks this
extraordinary violence to his conscience, he was unmer¬
cifully strangled without any form of law or justice.
Mary remonstrated with warmth to Elizabeth against
indignities so shocking and so horrible ; but instead of
obtaining consolation or relief, she was involved more
deeply in w oe, and exposed to still severer inventions of
^ ^ malice and of anger.
Elizabeth 1^ie m^st °f lier misfortunes, Mary had still sola-
siows dis- ced herself with hope; and from the exertions of her
sensionsbe-son she naturally expected the greatest advantage. He
r^ardt r l1'*!14-1"*0 behaved with a becoming cordiality; and
goJ in the negcciation which she had opened with him for
her association in the government, he had been studi¬
ous to please and flatter her. He had informed her,
by a particular despatch, that he found the greatest
comfort in her maternal tenderness, and that he would
accomplish her commands with humility and expedi¬
tion ; that he would not fail to ratify her union and
association with him in the government; that it would
he his most earnest endeavour to reconcile their com¬
mon subjects to that measure; and that she might ex¬
pect from him, during his life, every satisfaction and
duty which a good mother could promise to herself
from an affectionate and obedient son. But these fair
blossoms of kindness and love were all blasted by the
treacherous arts of Elizabeth. By the master of Gray,
who had obtained an ascendant over James, she turned
from Mary his affections. He delayed to ratify her
association in the government; and he even appeared
to he unwilling to urge Elizabeth on the subject of
her liberty. The master of Gray had convinced him,
that if any favour were shown to Mary by the queen of
England, it would terminate in his humiliation. He
assured him, that if his mother were again to mount
the Scottish throne, her zeal for Popery would induce
her to seek a husband in the house of Austria; that
she would dissolve his association with her in the go¬
vernment, on pretence of his attachment to the re¬
formed doctrines ; and that he would not only lose the
L A N D.
751'
&
glory of his present powder, hut endanger his prospects Scotland,
of succession. Mary expostulated with him by letter —v"—
on the timidity and coldness of his behaviour, and he
returned her an answer full of disrespect, in which he
intimated his resolution to consider her in no other
character than as queen mother. Her amazement, in¬
dignation, and grief, were infinite. She wrote to Ca-
stelnau the French ambassador to inform him of her
inquietudes and anguish. “ My son (said she) is un¬
grateful ; and I desire that the king your master may
consider him no longer as a sovereign. In your future
despatches, abstain from giving him the title of king.
I am his queen and his sovereign ; and while I live
and continue at variance with him, he can at most be
only an usurper. From him I derive no lustre; and
without me he could only have been Lord Darnley or
the earl of Lenox ; for I raised his father from being
my subject to be my husband. I ask from him nothing
that is his; what I claim is my own; and if he persists
in his course of impiety and ingratitude, I will bestow
on him my malediction, and deprive him not only of
all rij>ht to Scotland, but of all the dignity and gran*
deur to which he might succeed through me. My
enemies shall not enjoy the advantages they expect from
him. For to the king of Spain I will convey, in the
amplest form, my claims, titles, and greatness. ”
Elizabeth having thus found means to sow dissension
between the queen of Scots and her son, did not fail to
make the best use of the quarrel for her own advantage.
The pope, the duke of Guise, and the king of Spain, §47
had concluded an alliance, called the hdy league, for Alliance of
the extirpation of the Protestant religion all over Eu-the I>0Plsl‘
rope. Elizabeth was thrown into the greatest conster- Eii-
nation on this account; and the idea of a counter asso-zabeth.
ciation among the Protestant princes of Europe imme¬
diately suggested itself. Sir Edward Wotton was de¬
puted to Scotland ; and so completely gained on the
imbecility of James, that he concluded a firm alliance
with Elizabeth, without making any stipulation in fa¬
vour of his mother. Nay, so far was he the dupe of 848
thisamhassador and his mistress, that he allowed himself Mean and
to be persuaded to take into his favour Mr Archibald
Douglas, one of the murderers of Lord Darnley ; and, 0f janics
as if all this had not been sufficient, he appointed the as¬
sassin to be his ambassador to England.
Mary, thus abandoned by all the world, in the hands
of her most inveterate and cruel enemy, fell a victim to 84!)
her resentment and treachery in the year 1587. A plot Account of
of assassination had been formed in the spring of the Bat)inS-
1 ° . ton S COll—
year 1586 against the English queen ; partly with the sl,;raCy a_
view of rescuing the Scottish princess; but chiefly from gainst Eli-
a motive to serve the interests of the Catholic religion^zal)eth-
This conspiracy, which originated with Catholic priests An' 158
and persons of no distinction, was soon imparted to Mr
Bahington, a person of great fortune, of many accom¬
plishments, and who had before that time discovered
himself to he the zealous friend of Queen Mary. That
she had corresponded with Babington there is nodoubt;
but it was some jmars previous to the formation of the
plot. A long silence had taken place between them ;
and Morgan, one of the English fugitives in France, and
a warm friend of Mary’s, in the month of May 1586,.
wrote a letter to her, repeatedly and in the most pres¬
sing manner recommending a revival of that correspon¬
dence. In consequence of which, i i her answer to,
Morgan,,
752 SCOTLAND.
Scotland. Morgan, dated the 27th day of July, she informed him
 ’ that she had made every apology in her power to Ba-
bington, for not having written to him for so long a
space ; that he had generously offered himself and all
his fortune in her cause ; and that, agreeably to Mor¬
gan’s advice, she would do her best to retain him in her
interests; but she throws out no hint of her knowledge
of the intended assassination. On the very same day she
likewise wrote to Paget, another of her most conbden-
tial friends ; but not a word in it with respect to Ba-
bingfons’s scheme of cutting off the English queen. To
Morgan and to Paget she certainly would have commu¬
nicated her mind, more readily and more particularly
than to Babington, and have consulted them about the
plot, had she been accessory to it. Indeed it seems to
have been part of the policy of Mary’s friends to keep
her a stranger to all clandestine and hazardous underta¬
kings in her favour. To be convinced of this, we have
only to recollect, that Morgan, in a letter of the fourth
of July, expressly, and in the strongest terms, recom-
* Murdin mended to have no intelligence at all with Ballard, *
527. who was one of the original contrivers of the plot, and
who was the very person who communicated it to Ba¬
bington. The queen, in consequence of this, shut the
door against all correspondence, if it should be offered,
f Ibid. 534.with that person, f At the same time, Morgan assign¬
ed no particular reasons for that advice; so cautious was
he of giving the queen any information on the sub¬
ject : What he said was generally and studiously ob¬
scure : “ Ballard (said he, only) is intent on some mat¬
ters of consequence, the issue of which is uncertain.’’
He even went farther, and charged Ballard himself to
abstain by all means from opening his views to the queen
of Scots.
The conspiracy which goes under the name of Ba-
bington was completely detected by the court in the
month of June : The names, proceedings, and resi¬
dences, of those engaged in it were then'known: The
blow might have been soon struck : The life of Eliza¬
beth was in imminent danger. The conspirators, how¬
ever, were not apprehended ; they were permitted to
enjoy complete liberty ; treated as if there were not the
least suspicion against them ; and in this free and quiet
state, were they suffered to continue till the beginning
of August, for a period of nearly two months. What
could be the reasons for such a conduct ? From what
causes did the council of England suspend the just ven¬
geance of the laws, and leave their queen’s life still in
jeopardy? Was it on purpose to procure more conspi¬
rators, and involve others in the crime ?
Mary queen of Scots continued still detached from
Babington and his associates. Their destruction was a
small matter compared with her’s. Could she be de- Scotland,
coved into the plot, things would have put on a very
different aspect. Babington’s conspiracy, which in
reality occasioned little dread, as it was early found out-,
and well guarded against, would prove one of the most
grateful incidents in Queen Elizabeth’s reign. Eliza¬
beth’s ministers, too, knew how much they had ren¬
dered themselves justly obnoxious to the Scottish prin¬
cess: Should she come to mount the throne of England,
their downfall was inevitable ; from which, it should
seem, is to be explained, why they were even more
zealous than their mistress to accomplish her ruin. 850
Of these, Sir Francis Walsingham secretary of state Art and
appears to have taken on himself the chief management
in concerting a plan of operations against the queen of atuj herl‘ui.
Scots; and as a model, he seems to have had in his eye nisters.
that which was pursued on a former occasion by the earl
of Murray. His spies having early got into the confi¬
dence of the lower sort of the conspirators, he now em¬
ployed the very agency of the latter for his purposes.
Learning that a packet from France was intended to be
conveyed by them to Queen Mary, and by the hands
of one Gilbert Gifford a priest, whom he had secretly
gained over from their association, he wrote a letter to
Sir Amias Paulet, who had now the custody of the
Scottish queen, requesting that one of his domestics
might be permitted to take a bribe for conveying that
packet to the captive princess. This was on purpose
to communicate to her a letter forged in the name of
Babington, in which that conspirator was made to im¬
part to the Scottish queen his scheme of assassination,
and to claim rewards to the perpetrators of the deed.
Paulet, however, to his honour, refused to comply with
therequestof Walsingham; on which Gifford corrupted
a brewer in the neighbourhood, who put his letters to
Mary in a hole in the castle-wall. By the same con¬
veyance it was thought that Mary would answer the let¬
ters ; but it appears that she never saw them, and that
of course no return was made, (y) It was then con¬
trived that answers, in the name of the queen of Scots
to Gifford, should be found in the hole of the wall,
Walsingham, to whom these letters were carried, pro¬
ceeded formally to decipher them by the help of one
Thomas Philips, a person skilled in these matters; and
after exact copies were taken of them, it is said that
they were all artfully sealed and sent off to the persons
to whom they were directed. It appears, however, that
only the letters directed to Babington were sent to him ;
and the answers which he made to the queen’s supposed
letters were carried directly to Walsingham. A foun¬
dation for criminating Mary being thus laid, the con¬
spirators were quickly discovered, as being already
known,
(\ ) Dr Robertson of Dalmeny, who, in bis history of Mary queen of Scots, has thrown much light on
those dark transactions of Elizabeth’s nefarious ministers, thinks it not improbable that an answer to Babing¬
ton s letter was written by the Scottish queen’s secretaries. Although they could not communicate that letter
to herself, on account of her known abhorrence of assassination, they perhaps wrote a despatch in her name, ap¬
proving of it; tempted by the prospect of escaping from imprisonment, and of their mistress being seated on the
throne of England. This despatch being conveyed through the same chink of the wall, was carried by Gifford
to Walsingham ; opened ; deciphered, and copied by him; and then sent to Babington. Camden informs
us, that Walsingham artfully forged a postscript in the same cipher to this despatch ; in which Queen Mary was
made to request of Babington to inform her particularly of the names of his accomplices, and of others who were
friends to the cause.
SCO T L A N D.
W /-v
SaCHtii'.d. known, and suffered tlie death of traitors. The un-
^ happy princess, eagerly watched by Paulet, and unac-
3f ry U quaintod with the late occurrence, received a visit from
charged Sir Thomas Gorges. This envoy, as instructed by E-
Uie lizabeth, surprised her when she had mounted her horse
conspiracy. i0 take the pleasure of the chase. His salutation was
abrupt and unceremonious ; and after informing her of
the discovery and circumstances of the conspiracy of
Babington, he rudely charged her with a concern in it.
Her astonishment was great,and she desired t o return to
her chamber; but this favour was refused to her ; and
after being carried from one house to another, in an an¬
xious and perplexing uncertainty, she was committed
to Fotheringay castie in Northamptonshire. Naw and
Curl, her two secretaries, the former a Frenchman, the
latter a native of Scotland, were taken into custody.
Paulet, breaking open the doors of her private closet,
possessed himself of her money, which amounted to not
more than 7000 crowns. Her cabinets were carefully
sealed up ; and being sent to London, were examined
in the presence of Elizabeth. They contained many
despatches from persons beyond the sea, copies of letters
which had been dictated by her, and about 60 tables of
ciphers and characters. There were also discovered in
them many despatches to her from English noblemen,
which were full of admiration and respect. These E-
lizabeth concealed; but their authors suspecting that
they were known, sought to purchase her forgiveness
by the most abject protestations of an attachment to her
person, and by the exercise of the most inveterate en¬
mity to the queen of Scots. Naw and Curl declared,
that the copies of her letters were in their handwriting.
They had been dictated by her in the French language
to Naw, translated into English by Curl, and then put
into cipher. They contained not, however, any mat¬
ters with which she could he reproached or criminated.
It was on the foundation of the letters which Gilford
had communicated to Walsingham that her guilt was to
be inferred; and with copies of these, and with an at¬
tested account of the conspiracy of Babington and his
associates, SirEdward Wotton was now despatchsdinto
France to accuse her to Henry HI. and to explain to him
the dangers to which Elizabeth was exposed from the
^ machinations and practices of the English exiles.
Deiibera- Tiie privy counsellors of Elizabeth deliberated on the
tionson the most proper method of proceeding against Mary. To
method of SOnie it appeared, that as she was only accessory to the
P^ot>an^nott^e designer of it, the most eligible severity
to be exercised against her was a closer and more rigor¬
ous confinement; and they endeavoured to fortify this
opinion, by observing, that she was sickly, and could
not live long. By others who were haunted by the ter¬
rors of Popery, it was urged, that she ought to be put
instantly to death by the formalities of the law. The
earl of Leicester recommended it as most prudent to dis¬
patch her secretly by poison. But this counsel was re¬
jected, as mean, disgraceful, and violent. The lawyers
were of opinion, that she might he tried on the statute
of Edward III.; by which it was enacted to be treason
toimaginethedestruction of the sovereign, to make war
against his kingdom, or to adhere to his enemies. Eli¬
zabeth, however, and her ministers had provided a more
plausible foundation for her trial. This was a parlia¬
mentary statute approving the act of association. As it
had been passed while Mary was in England, it was at*
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
gued, that she was bound by it in a local allegiance to Scotland.
Elizabeth. I he next point of debate was the design a-  1
tion under which it was most advisable to arraign her.
To employ a foreign name and title as directly de¬
scriptive of her, was not judged to be consistent with
the law of England. It was therefore resol ved to de¬
sign her “ Mary, daughter and heir of James V. king
of Scotland, and commonly called queen of Scots, and
dowager of France. ”
j. his resomtion being once taken, Elizabeth next ap- Commis-
pointed above forty peers or privy counsellors, and five s;oilcrs :,P-
judges, bestowing on them in a body, or on the great- p0l,’tcd t(>
er part of them, absolute power and authority to inquire^' Kr"
into the matters compassed and imagined against her bv
the Scottish princess, and to pass sentence according to
the spirit and tenor of the act which had been passed.
Ofthese commissioners a great majority proceeded to the
castle of Fotheringay; and the day after their arrival,
they deputed to Mary, Sir Walter Miidmay, Sir Amias
Paulet, and Edward Barker, a public notary, to deliver
to her a letter from Elizabeth. In this letter the Eng¬
lish queen gratified her unhappy passions, and, after
reproaching Mary with her crimes, informed her that
commissioners were appointed to take cognisance of
them. The Scottish princess, though astonished with
the project of being brought to a public trial, was able
to preserve her dignity, and addressed them with a com¬
posed manner and air. “ It is a matter (said she) alto- she objects
gather uncommon and strange, that Elizabeth should to their ju-
command me to submit to a trial, as if I were her sub-risdicUoa*
ject. I am an independent sovereign, and will not tar¬
nish by any meanness my high birth, the princes my pre¬
decessors, and my son. Misfortunes and misery have
not yet so involved me in dejection, as that I am to faiftt
and sink under this new calamity and insult. I desire
that you will remember what I formerly protested to
Bromley, who is now lord chancellor, and to the lord
La War. To speak to me of commissioners is a vain
mockery of my rank. Kings alone can he my peers.
Tiie laws of England are unknown to me ; and I have
no counsellors to whose wisdom I can apply for instruc¬
tion. My papers and commentaries have been taken,
from me; and no person can have the courage to appear
as my advocate. I have indeed recommended myself
and my condition to foreign princes ; but I am clear of
the guilt of having conspired the destruction of Eliza¬
beth, orof having incited any person whatever to destroy
her. It is only by my own words and writings that au
imputation of this kind can be supported; and I am
conscious beyond the possibility of a doubt, that these
evidences cannot be employed against me. ” The day
after she had in this manner refused to allow the jurisdic¬
tion of the commissioners, Paulet and Barker returned
to her, and informed her that they had put her speech
into writing, and desired to know if she would abide by
it. She heard it read distinctly, acknowledged it to be
rightly taken, and avowed her readiness to persist in the
sentiments she had delivered. But she added, there was ^
a circumstance of which she had omitted to speak.
“ Your queen (aid she) affects in her letter to observe,
that I am subject to the laws of England, because I
have lived under their protection. This sentiment and
mode of thinking are very surprising to me. I came
into England to crave her assistance and aid; and, ever
since, I have been confined to a prison. The miseries of
f 5 C captivity
SCOTLAND.
754
Scotland, captivity cannot be called a protection, and the treat-
'■'-’-v—-' merit I have suffered is a violation of all law. ”
This afHietetl but undaunted princess, after having
thus scorned the competency and repelled the pretexts
of the commissioners, was induced at last, by arguments
under the insidious mask of candour and friendship, to
depart from the proper and dignified ground which she
had taken, and consent to that inode of trial which
had been proposed. It was represented to her by Hat¬
ton the vice-chamberlain, that by rejecting a trial, she
injured her own reputation and interests, and deprived
herself of the only opportunity of setting her innocence
in a clear light to the present and to future times. Im¬
posed on by this artifice, she consented to make her ap¬
pearance before the judges; at the same time, however,
she still protested against the jurisdiction of the court,
S55 and the validity of all their proceedings.
The accu- After various formalities, the lord-chancellor opened
sution is tlie case ; and vras followed by Sergeant Gawdry, who
li^rv' t^her Procee^et^ to explain the abovestatute, and endeavoured
to demonstrate that she had offended against it. He
then entered into a detail of Babington’s conspiracy ;
and concluded with affirming, “ That Mary knew it,
had approved of it, had promised her assistance, and
had pointed out the means to effect it. ” Proofs of this
charge were exhibited against her, and displayed with
great art. The letters were read which Sir Francis
Walsiughain had forged, in concert with Gifford, &c.
and her secretaries Naw and Curl. The three spies had
afforded all the necessary intelligence respecting the con¬
spiracy, on which to frame a correspondence between
Mary and Babington, and on which despatches might
l>e fabricated in her name to her foreign friends; and
Stuart's the ciphers were furnished by her two secretaries. But
Uiston/. besides these pretended letters, another species of evi¬
dence was held out against her. Babington, proud of
the despatch sent to him in her name by Walsingham
and Gifford, returned an answer to it; and a reply from
Iter by the same agency was transmitted to him. De¬
luded and in tofls. he communicated these marks of her
attention to Savage and Ballard, the most confidential
of his associates. His confession and theirs thus became
of importance. Nor were her letters and the confessions
of these conspirators deemed sufficient vouchers of her
guilt. Her two secretaries, therefore, who had lately
forsaken her, were engaged to subscribe a declaration,
that the despatches in her name were written by them
at her command, and according to her instructions.
These branches of evidence, put together with skill,
and heightened with all the imposing colours of elo¬
quence, were pressed on Mary. Though she had
been long accustomed to the perfidious inhumanity of
her enemies, her amazement was infinite. She lost
not, however, her courage; and her defence was alike
S5G expressive of her penetration and magnanimity.
^ITarjV de- “ The accusation preferred to my prejudice is a most
fence. detestable calumny. I was not engaged with Babing¬
ton in his conspiracy ; and I am altogether innocent of
having plotted the death of Elizabeth. The copies of
^ idrt. Babington’s letters which have been produced, may in¬
deed he taken from originals which are genuine; but
it is impossible to prove that I ever received them. Nor
did he receive from me the despatches addressed to him
in my name. His confession and those of his associates,
which have been urged to establish the authority of my
letters to him, are imperfect and vain. If these conspi • ScotUr.},
rators could have testified any circumstances to my hurt, 1 r—*
they would not so soon have been deprived of their lives.
Tortures, or the fear of the rack, extorted improper
confessions from them ; and then they were executed.
Their mouths were opened to utter false criminations ;
and were immediately shut for ever, that the truth might
be buried in their graves. It was no difficult matter
to obtain ciphers which I had employed ; and my ad¬
versaries are known to be superior to scruples. 1 am
informed that Sir Francis Walsingham has been earnest
to recommend himself to his sovereign by practices both
against my life and that of my son ; and the fabrication
of papers by which to effectuate my ruin, is a business
not unworthy of his ambition. An evidence, the most
clear and incontestable, is necessary to overthrow my
integrity ; but proofs, the most feeble and suspicious,
are held out against me. Let one letter be exhibited,
written in my hand, or that bearsmy superscription, and
I will instantly acknowledge that the charge against me
is sufficiently supported. The declaration of my secre¬
taries is the effect of rewards or of terror. They are
strangers ; and to overcome their virtue was an easy a-
chievement to a queen whose power is absolute, whose
riches are immense,and whose ministers are profound and
daring in intrigues and treachery. I have often had oc*
ersion to suspect the integrity of Naw; and Curl, whose
capacity is more limited, was always most obsequious
to him. They may have written many letters in my
name without my knowledge or participation; and it
is not fit that I should bear the blame of their inconsi¬
derate boldness. They may have put many things into
despatches which are prejudicial to Elizabeth; and they
may even have subscribed their declaration to my j>re-
judice, under the prepossession that the guilt which
would utterly overwhelm them might be pardoned in
me. I have never dictated any letter to them which
can be made to correspond with their testimony. And
what, let me ask, would become of the grandeur, the
virtue, and the safety of princes, if they depended upon
the writings and declarations of secretaries ? Nor let it
be forgotten, that by acting in hostility to the duty and
allegiance which they solemnly swrore to observe to
me, they have utterly incapacitated themselves from
obtaining any credit. The violation of their oath of
fidelity is an open perjury; and of such men the pro¬
testations are nothing. But, if they are yet in life, let
them he brought before me. The matters they declare
are so important as to require that they should he ex¬
amined in my presence. It argues not the fairness of
the proceedings against me, that this formality is ne¬
glected. I am also without the assistance of an advo¬
cate ; and, that I might be defenceless and weak in the
greatest degree, I have been robbed of my papers and
commentaries. As to the copies of the despatches which
are said to have been written by my direction to Men¬
doza, the lord Paget, Charles Paget, the archbishop of
Glasgow, and Sir Francis Inglefield, they are most un¬
profitable forgeries. For they tend only to show that
I was employed in encouraging my friends to invade
England. Nowr, if I should allow that these despatches
were genuine, it could not be inferred from them that
I had conspired the death of Elizabeth. I will even
confess, that I have yielded to the strong impulses of
nature ; and that, like a human creature encompassed
with
!
SCOTLAND.
kctliind. with dangers, and insulted with wrongs, I have exerted
—1 myself to recover my greatness and my liberty. The
efforts I haVe made can excite no blushes in me; for
the voice of mankind must applaud them. Religion, in
her sternest moments of severity, cannot look to them
with reproach ; and to consider them as crimes, is to
despise the sanctimonious reverence of humanity, and to
give way to the suspicious wretchedness of despotism. I
have Sought by every art of concession and friendship
to engage my sifter to put a period to my sufferings.
Invited by her smiles, I ventured into her kingdom, in
the pride and gaiety of my youth ; and, under her an¬
ger and the miseries of captivity, I have grown into
age. During a calamitous confinement of 20 years,
my youth, my health, my happiness, are for ever gone.
To her tenderness and generosity I have been indebted
as little as to her justice: and, oppressed and agonizing
with unmerited afflictions and hardships, I scrupled not
to beseech the princes my allies to employ their armies
to relieve me. Nor will I deny, that I have endeavour¬
ed to promote the advantage and interest of the perse¬
cuted Catholics of England. My entreaties in their be¬
half have been even offered with earnestness to Queen
Elizabeth herself. But the attainment of my kingdom,
the recovery of my liberty, and the advancement of
that religion which I love, could not induce me to stain
myself with the crimes that are objected to me. I would
disdain to purchase a crown by the assassination of the
meanest of the human face. To accuse me of scheming
the death of the queen, my sister, is to brand me with
the infamy which I abhor most. It is my nature to em¬
ploy the devotions of Esther, and not the sword of Ju¬
dith. Elizabeth herself will attest, that I have often
admonished her not to draw upon her head the resent¬
ment of my friends by the enormity of her cruelties
to me. My innocence cannot sincerely be doubted ;
and it is known to the Almighty God, that I could
not possibly think to forego his mercy, and to ruin my
Soul, in order to compass a transgression so horrible as
that of her murder. But amidst the inclement and un¬
principled pretences which my adversaries are pleased to
invent to overwhelm me with calamities and anguish, I
can trace and discover with ease the real causes of their
hostility and provocation. My crimes are, my birth,
the injuries I have been compelled to endure, and my
religion. I am proud of the first; I can forgive the se¬
cond ; and the third is a source to me of such comfort
and hope, that for its glory I will be contented that my
blood shall flow upon the scaffold. ”
To the defence of Mary, no returns were made be¬
side unsupported affirmation of the truth of the evi-
xlence produced to her prejudice. In the course of the
trial, however, there occurred some incidents which de¬
serve to be related. My lord Burleigh, who was wil¬
ling to discompose her, charged her with the fixed re¬
solution of conveying her claims and titles to England
to the king of Spain. But though, in a discontented
humour with her son, she had threatened to disinherit
him, and had even corresponded on the subject with her
select friends, it appears that this project is to be consi-
dered as only a transient effect of resentment and pas¬
sion. She indeed acknowledged, that the Spanish king
professed to have pretensions to the kingdom of Eng¬
land, and that a book in justification of them had been
communicated to her. She declared, however, that she
i ov
had incurred the displeasure of many by disapproving Scotland.
of this book ; and that no conveyance of her titles to w",_v '
the Spanish king had been ever executed.
The trial continued during two days ; but the com¬
missioners avoided delivering their opinions. My lord
Burleigh, in whose management Elizabeth chiefly con¬
fided, and whom the Scottish queen discomposed in no
common degree by her ability and vigour, being eager
to conclude the business, demanded to know if she had
any thing to add to what she had urged in her defence. R
She informed him, that she would be infinitely pleased she desires
and gratified, if it should be permitted to her to be'« he heard
heard in her justification before a full meeting of parlia- betl>.rc 1 _ ,
ment, or before the queCn and her privy-council. This I'r before" *
intimation was unexpected ; and the request implied in the queen,
it was rejected. The court, in consequence of previous
instructions from Elizabeth, adjourned to a farther day,
and appointed that the place of its convention should be
the star-chamber at Westminster. It accordingly assem¬
bled there ; and Naw and Curl, who had not been pro¬
duced at Fotheringay-castle, were now called before the
commissioners. An oath to declare the truth was put
to them; and they definitely affirmed and protested that
the declaration they subscribed was in every respect j ust
and faithful. Nothing farther remained but to pro- 85a
nounce sentence against Mary. The commissioners una- Judgment
nimously concurred in delivering it as their verdict orSi'’®1*^* ^
judgment, that she “ was a party to the conspiracy of °amsl K!‘
Babington ; and that she had compassed and imagined
matters within the realm of England tending to the
hurt, death, and destruction, of the royal person of Eli¬
zabeth, in opposition to the statute framed for her pro¬
tection. ” On the same day in which this extraordi¬
nary sentence was given, the commissioners and the
judges of England issued a declaration, which import¬
ed, that it was not to derogate in any degree from the
titles and honour of the king of Scots.
The sentence against Mary was very soon ratified by The seti¬
the English parliament. King James was struck with uncera'i-
horror at heaving of the execution of his mother; Imt
that spiritless prince could show his resentment no far- J)arfjainenti
ther than by unavailing embassies and remonstrances. An. 158G.
France interposed in the same ineffectual manner ; and
on the 6th of December 1586, Elizabeth caused the
sentence of the commissioners against her to be pro¬
claimed. After this she was made acquainted with her
fate, and received the news with the greatest composure,
and even apparent satisfaction. Her keepers now refus¬
ed to treat her with any reverence or respect. They
entered her apartment with their heads covered, and
made no obeisance to her. They took down her canopy
of state, and deprived her of all the badges of royalty.
By these insulting mortifications they meant to inform
her, that she had sunk from the dignity of a princess to
the abject state of a criminal. She smiled, and said, u I n
despite of your sovereign and her subservient judges, I
will live and die a queen. My royal character is inde¬
lible ; and I will surrender it with my spirit to Al-
mmhty God, from whom I received it, and to whom my
honour and my innocence are fully known. ” In this me¬
lancholy situation Mary addressed a magnanimous letter
to Elizabeth, in which, without making the least soli¬
citation for her life, she only requested that her body
might be carried to France ; that she might be publicly
executed ; that her servants might be permitted to de-
5 C 2 part
i e
56
S C ©TLA N B.
Scotliind. part out of England unmolested, and enjoy the lega-
' f—-' cies which she bequeathed them. ” But to this letter
see no answer was given.
Imbecility In the mean time James, who had neither address
cf James, nor C0UVage to attempt any thing in behalf of his mo-
tremeTnso ^ier’ announced her situation to his bigotted subjects,
Icnce and and ordered prayers to be said for her in all the church-
Wgotry of es. The form of the petition he prescribed was framed
Lis clergy. je];cacy and caution, that the clergy might have
no objection to it. He enjoined them to pray, “ that
it might please God to enlighten Mary with the light
nf his truth, and protect her from the danger which was
hanging over her.” His own chaplains, and Mr David
Lindsay minister of Leith, observed his command. But
all the other clergy refused to prostitute their pulpits by
preferring any petitions to tbe Almighty for a Papist.
James, shocked with their spirit of intolerance and sedi¬
tion, appointed a new day for prayers to be said for
Mary, and issued a stricter injunction to thg clergy to
obey him ; and that he might be free himself from any
insult, he commanded the archbishop of St Andrew’s to
preach before him. Tho ecclesiastics, disgusted with
his injunction, persuaded Mr John Cow per, a proba¬
tioner in divinity, to occupy the pulpit designed for
the archbishop. When the king entered the church, he
testified his surprise ; but told Cowper, that if he would
obey his injunction, he might proceed to olSciate.
Cowper replied, “ that he would do as the spirit of
God would direct him. ” The king commanded him
,to retire, and the captain of his guard advanced to
compel him to obedience. The enraged probationer ex¬
claimed, that this violence “ would witness against the
king in the great day of the Lord ; ” and denounced a
curse against the spectators for not exerting themselves
in his defence. Tbe archbishop now ascending the pul¬
pit, performed with propriety the function to which he
had been called, and took the opportunity of recom¬
mending moderation and charity to the audience. In
the afternoon Cowper was cited before the privy-coun¬
cil ; and was accompanied by Mr Walter Balcanqual
and Mr 'William Watson, two ministers remarkable for
their zeal. As a punishment for his audacious petu¬
lance, he was committed to the castle, of Blackness ;
and his attendants having distinguished themselves by
an impudent vindication of him, were prohibited from
<161 preaching during the pleasure of the king.
"Elizabeth Elizabeth, in the mean time, felt the torment and
feels some disquiet of unhappy and miserable passions. At times
remorse; she courted the sadness of solitude, and refused to be
consoled or to speak. In other seasons her sighs were
frequent, and she broke out into loud and wild excla¬
mations expressive of the state of her mind. Her sub¬
jects waited the determination of her will under a dis¬
tracting agitation and uncertainty. Her ministers, who
knew that it is the nature of fear to exclude pity, were
industrious in inventing terrifying intelligence, and in
Siuart. circulating it through the kingdom. There were ru¬
mours that the Spanish fleet had arrived at Milford-
haven ; that a formidable army of Scottish combatants
was advancing to the capital; that the duke of Guise
had disembarked many troops of veteran soldiers in Sus¬
sex ; that Mary had escaped out of prison, and was col¬
lecting the English Catholics ; that the northern coun¬
ties had thrown aside their allegiance ; and that there
was a new plot to kill Elizabeth, and to reduce Lon¬
don to ashes. An actual conspiracy was even malicious- Scotland
ly charged upon L’Aubespine the French resident; and 
he was forced to withdraw from England in disgrace.
From the panic terrors which the ministers of Elizabeth
were so studious to excite, they scrupled not loudly and
invariably to infer, that the peace and tranquillity of
the kingdom could be re-established only by the speedy
execution of the Scottish queen. ggg
While the nation was thus artfully prepared for the but signs
destruction of Mary, Elizabeth ordered Secretary Da- j.he ''’arrai,rt
vidson to bring to her the warrant for her death. Hav- [|”at!liar'V<l
ing perused it with deliberation, she observed that it
was extended in proper terms, and gave it the authority
of her subscription. She was in a humour somewhat
gay, and demanded of him if he was not sorry for what
she had done. He replied, that it was afflicting to him
to think of the state of public affairs ; but that be
greatly preferred her life to that of the Scottish prin¬
cess. She enjoined him to be secret, and desired, that
before he should deliver the warrant to the chancellor,
he should carry it to Walsingham. “ I fear much
(said she, in a merry tone), that the grief of it will
kill him. ”
This levity was momentary; and fears and anxieties
succeeded it. Though she earnestly desired the death
of Mary, she was yet terrified to encounter its infamy.
She was solicitous to accomplish this base transaction by
some method which would conceal her consent to it.
After intimating to Mr Davidson an anxious wish that Wishes t«
its blame should be removed from her, she counselled Lave her
him to join with Walsingham in addressing a letter toi>rivatel-v.
Sir Amias Paulet and Sir Drue Dury, recommendingmart^erc<^
it to them to manifest their love to her by shedding pri¬
vately the blood of her adversary. The unlawfulness of
this deed affected Davidson, and he objected to it. She
repeated resolutely her injunctions, and he departed to
execute them. A letter under his name and that of
Walsinghanj was despatched to Mary’s keepers, com¬
municating to them her purpose. Corrupted by her
passions, and lost to the sensibilities of virtue, Elizabeth
had now reached the last extremity of human wicked¬
ness. Though a sovereign princess, and entrusted with
the cares of a great nation, she blushed not to give it in
charge to her ministers to enjoin a murder; and this
murder was connected with every circumstance that
could make it most frightful and horrid. The victim
for whose blood she thirsted was a woman, a queen, a
relation, who was splendid with beauty, eminent in abi¬
lities, magnanimous under misfortunes, and smiling with
innocence. Sir Amias Paulet and Sir Drue Drury, whi^ter
though the slaves of religious prejudices, felt an eleva-keepers t*e*
tion of mind which reflected the greatest disgrace on the fuse,
sovereign. They considered themselves as grossly in¬
sulted by the pu rpose proposed to them; and in the return
they made to Walsingham, they assured him, that the
queen might command their lives and their property,
but that they would never consent to part with their ho¬
nour, and stain themselves and their posterity with the
guilt of an assassination. When Davidson carried their Stuart.
despatch to her, she broke out into anger. Their scru¬
pulous delicacy, she said, was a dainty infringement of
their oath of association; and they were nice, precise
and perjured traitors, who could give great promises in
words, and achieve nothing. She told him, that the
business could be performed without them; and recom¬
mended
SCOT
SgotlanJ,i pended one Wingfield to his notice, wlio would not he-
,'1 '' 1 ‘ sitate to strike the blow. The astonished secretary ex¬
claimed with warmth against a mode of proceeding so
dangerous and unwarrantable. He protested, that if
she should take upon herself the blame of this deed, it
would pollute her with the blackest dishonour; and
that, it she should disavow it, she would overthrow for
ever the reputation, the estates, and the children, of the
persons who should assist in it; Site heard him with
865 pain, and withdrew from him with precipitation.
The war- The warrant, after having been communicated to
rant passes Walsingham, was carried to the chancellor, who put
l“«i^1Cat ^ie g^at seal to it. This formality was hardly con¬
cluded, when a message from Elizabeth prohibited Da¬
vidson from waiting upon the chancellor till he should
receive farther instructions. Within an hour after, lie
received a second message to the same purpose. He
hastened to court ; and Elizabeth asked eagerly, if
lie had seen the chancellor. He answered in the af¬
firmative ; and she exclaimed with bitterness against
his haste. He said, that he had acted exactly as she
had directed him. She continued to express warmly
her displeasure ; but gave no command to stop the ope¬
ration of the warrant. In a state of uneasiness and
apprehension, lie communicated her behaviour to the
chancellor and the privy-council. These courtiers,
however, who were well acquainted with the arts of
their mistress, and who knew how to flatter her, paid
no attention to him. They perceived, of were secretly
informed, that she desired to have a pretence upon
which to complain of the secretary, and to deny that he
had obeyed her instructions. They observed to him,
that by subscribing the warrant, she had performed
whatever the law required of her ; and that it was not
proper to delay the execution any longer. While they
were anxious to please Elizabeth, they were conscious
of their own cruelty to Mary, and did not imagine
they could be in perfect security while she lived. They
despatched the warrant to the earls of Shrewsbury and
Kent, with instructions to them to fulfil its purpose.
When the two earls and their retinue reached Fo-
866
Mary is
theringay castle, they found that Mary was sick, and
•tte.
reposing on her bed. They insisted, notwithstanding,
to be introduced to her. Being informed by her ser¬
vants that the message they brought was important and
pressing, she prepared to receive them. They were con¬
ducted into her presence by Sir Amias Paulet and Sir
Drue Drury ; and with little formality they told her,
that Elizabeth had consented to her death, and that she
was to suffer the next morning at eight o’clock. Then
Beale, one of the clerks of the privy-council, who ac¬
companied them, read over the warrant, which she
heard with pious composure and unshaken fortitude.
They then affected to justify their mistress by entering
into details concerning the conspiracy of Babington.
She put her hand on the Scriptures, which lay on a ta¬
ble near her, and swore in the most solemn manner, that
she never devised, consented to, or pursued the death of
Elizabeth in any shape whatever. The earl of Kent,
unwisely zealous for the Protestant religion, excepted
against her oath as being made on a Popish bible.
Site replied to him mildly, “ It is for this very reason,
my lord, to be relied on with the greater security ; for
I esteem the Popish version of the Scriptures to be
the most authentic. ’ Indulging his puritanical fer-
L A N B. 757
vour, he declaimed agains t Popery, counselled her to re- Scotland,
nounce its errors, and recommended to her attentionDr —v—■*-*'
Fletcher dean of Peterborough. She heard him with
some impatience; and discovered no anxiety to be con¬
verted by this ecclesiastic, whom he represented as a
most learned divine, liisinginto passion, he exclaimed,
that “ her life would be the death of their religion, and
that her death would be its life. ” After informing him
that she was unalterably fixed in her religious senti¬
ments, she desired that her confessor might have the li¬
berty to repair to her. The two carls concurred in ob¬
serving, that their consciences did not allow them to
grant this request. She intimated to them the favours
for which she had applied by her letter to Elizabeth, and
expressed a wish to know if her sister had attended
to them. They answered, that these were points on
which they had received no instructions. She made
inquiries concerning her secretaries Naw and Curl; and
asked, whether it had ever been heard of, in the wick¬
edest times of the most unprincipled nation, that the
servants of a sovereign princess had been suborned for
the purpose of destroying her. They looked to one
another, and were silent* Bourgoin her physician, who
with her other domestics was present at this interview,
seeing the two earls ready to depart, besought them
with an emphatic earnestness to reflect on the short and
inadequate portion of time that they had allotted to Ids
mistress to prepare herself for death. He insisted, that
a respect for her high rank, and the multiplicity and
importance of her concerns, required at least a period
of some days. They pretended, however, not to un¬
derstand the propriety of his petition, and refused it. 86y
On the departure of the two earls,her domestics gave She pre-
a full vent to their afflictions; and while she experien- Pares f’or
ced a melancholy pleasure in their tears, lamentat ions,tleatIl‘
and kindness, she endeavoured to console them. Their
grief, she said, was altogether unavailing, and could
better neither her condition nor their own. Her cause
had every thing about it that was most honourable; and
the miseries from which she was to be relieved were the
most hopeless and the most afflicting. Instead of dejec¬
tion and sadness, she therefore enjoined them to be con¬
tented and happy. That she might have the more lei¬
sure to settle her affairs, she supped earl}7, and, accord¬
ing to her usual custom, she ate little. While at table,
she remarked to Bourgoin her physician, that the force
of truth was insurmountable; for that the earl of Kent,
notwithstanding the pretence of her having conspired
against Elizabeth, had plainly informed her, that her
death would be the security of their religion. When
supper was over, she ordered all her servants to appear
before her, and treated them with the kindness which
we have mentioned in her life. Having settled these
attentions, she entered her bedchamber with her wo¬
men ; and, according to her uniform practice, employ¬
ed herself in religious duties, and in reading in the
Lives of the Saints. At her accustomed time she went
to sleep ; and after enjoying some hours of sound rest,
she awaked. She then indulged in pious meditation,
and partook of the sacrament by the means of a con¬
secrated host, which a melancholy presentiment of her
calamities had induced her to obtain from Pius V.
At the break of day she arrayed herself in rich, but
becoming apparel ; and calling together her servants,
she ordered her will to be read, and apologized for the
smallness >
75$ SCOT
Scotland, smallness of Jier legacies from her inability to be more
—""generous. Following the arrangement she had previ-
\ecmmt ofnup^ made, she then dealt out to them her goods, vvard-
her exccn- rebe, and jewels. To Bourgoin her physician she com¬
mon, 7th mitted the care of her will, with a charge that he would
Feb. 1JS7. deliver it to her principal executor the duke of Guise.
She also entrusted him with tokens of her affection for
the king of France, the queen- mother, and her relations
of the house of Lorraine. Bidding now an adieu to
all worldly concerns, she retired to her oratory, where
she was seen sometimes kneeling at the altar, and some¬
times standing motionless with her hands joined, and
her eyes directed to the heavens. In these tender aud
agitated moments, she was dwelling on the memory of
her suiFerings and her virtues, reposing her weaknesses
in the bosom of her God, and lifting and solacing her
spirit in the contemplation of his perfections and his
mercy. While she was thus engaged, Thomas An¬
drews, the high sheriff of the county, announced to
her, that the hour for her execution was arrived. She
oame forth dressed in a gown of black silk ; her petti¬
coat was bordered with crimson velvet; a veil of lawn
bowed out with wire, and edged with bone-lace, was fast¬
ened to her caul, and hung down to the ground : an
Agnus Dei was suspended from her neck by a poman¬
der chain ; her beads were fixed to her girdle ; and she
bore in her hand a crucifix of ivory. Amidst the
screams and lamentations of her women she descended
the stairs; and in the porch she was received by the
earls of Kent and Shrewsbury with their attendants.—
Here, too, she met Sir Andrew Melvil the master of
her household, whom her keepers had debarred from
her presence during many days. Throwing himself at
her feet, and weeping aloud, he deplored Ids sad des¬
tiny, and the sorrowful tidings he was to carry into
Scotland.
After she had spoken to Melvil, she besought the
two earls that her servants might be treated with ci¬
vility ; that they might enjoy the presents she had be¬
stowed on them ; and that they might receive a safe-
conduct to depart out of the dominions of Elizabeth.
These slight favours w^ere readily granted to her. She
then begged that they might be permitted to attend her
to the scaffold, in order that they might be witnesses of
her behaviour at her death. To this request the earl of
Kentdiscovered a strong reluctance. He said that they
would behave with an intemperate passion ; and that
they would practise superstitious formalities, and dip
their handkerchiefs in her blood. She replied, that she
was sure that none of their actions would be blameable;
and that is was but decent that some of her women
should be about her. The earl still hesitat ing, she was
affected with the insolent and stupid indignity of his
Stuaxi. malice, and exclaimed, “ I am cousin to your mistress,
and descended from Henry VII. I am a dowager of
France, and the anointed queen of Scotland. ” ° The
earl of Shrewsbury interposing, it was agreed that she
should select two of her women, who might assist her
in her last moments, and a few of her men servants,
who might behold her demeanour, and report it.
She entered the hall where she was to suffer, and
advanced with an air of grace and majesty to the scaf¬
fold, which was built at its farthest extremity. The
spectators were numerous. Her magnanimous car¬
riage, her beauty, of which the lustre was yet daz-
L A N D.
zling, and her matchless misfortunes, affected them. Sctrtlanfl,
They gave way to contending emotions of awe, ad-'~_v~~
miration, and pity. She ascended the scaffold with a
firm step and a serene aspect, and turned her eye to the
block, the axe, and the executioners. The spectators
were dissolved in tears. A chair was placed for her, in
which she seated herself. Silence was commanded ;
and Beale read aloud the warrant for her death. She
heard it attentively, yet with a manner from which it
might be gathered that her thoughts were employed oil
a subject more important. Dr Fletcher dean of Peter¬
borough taking his station opposite to her without the
rails of the scaffold, began a discourse on her life, past,
present, and to come. He affected to enumerate her
trespasses against Elizabeth, and to describe the love
and tenderness which that princess had shown to her.
He counselled her to repent of her crimes ; and while
he inveighed against her attachment to Popery, he
threatened ber with everlasting fire if she should delay
to renounce its errors. His behaviour was indecent
and coarse in the highest degree ; and while he meant
to insult her, he insulted still more the religion which he
professed,and the sovereign whom lie flattered. Twice
she interrupted him with great gentleness. But be per¬
tinaciously continued his exhortations. Raising her
voice, she coimr arded him with a resolute tone to with¬
hold his indignities and menaces, and not to trouble her
any more about her faith. “ I was born (said she) in
the Catholic religion; I have experienced its comforts
during my life, in the trying seasons of sickness, cala¬
mity, and sorrow; and I am resolved to die in it. ” 'Hie
two earls, ashamed of the savage obstinacy of his de¬
portment, admonished him to desist from his speeches,
and to content himselfWith praying for her conversion.
He entered on a long prayer ; and Mary falling on her
knees, and disregarding him altogether, employed her¬
self in devotions from the office of the Virgin.
After having performed all her devotions, her wo¬
men assisted her to disrobe; and the.executioners of¬
fering their aid, she repressed their forwardness by ob¬
serving, that she was not accustomed to be attended by
such servants, nor to be undressed before so large an
assembly. Her upper garments being laid aside, she
drew on her arms a pair of silk gloves. Her women
and men servants burst out into loud lamentations. She
put her finger to her mouth to admonish them to be
silent, and then bade them a final adieu with a smile
that seemed to console, but that plunged them into
deeper woe. She kneeled resolutely before the block,
and said, “ In thee, O Lord ! do I trust, let me never
be confounded. ” She covered her eyes with a linen
handkerchief in which the eucharist bad been inclosed ;
and stretching forth her body with great tranquillity,
and fitting her neck for the fatal stroke, she called out,
“ Into thy hands, O God! I commit my spirit. ” The
executioner, from design, from unskilfulness, or from
inquietude, struck three blows before he separated her
head from her body. He held it up mangled with
wounds, and streaming with blood ; and her hair being
discomposed, was discovered to be already gray with
afflictions and anxieties. The dean of Peterborough
alone cried out, “ So let the enemies of Elizabeth
perish.The earl of Kent alone, in a low voice,
answered, “ Amen. ” All the other spectators were
melted inte the tenderest sympathy and sorrow.
Her
SCOTLAND.
S-cottatld.
759
869
Infamous
dissimula¬
tion in
Elizabeth
and indif¬
ference in
James.
Her women hastened to protect her dead body from
■^the curiosity of the spectators ; and solaced themselves
with the thoughts of mourning over it undisturbed
when they should retire, and of laying it out in its fune¬
ral garb. But the two earls prohibited them from dis¬
charging these melancholy yet pleasing offices to their
departed mistress, and drove them from the hall with
indignit}'. Bourgoin her physician applied to them
that he might be permitted to take out her heart for
the purpose of preserving it, and of carrying it with
him to France. But they refused his intreaty with
disdain and anger. Her remains were touched by the
rude hands of the executioners, who carried them into
an adjoining apartment; and who, tearing a cloth from
an old billiard table, covered that form, once so beauti¬
ful. The block, the cushion, the scaffold, and the gar¬
ments which were stained with her blood, were con¬
sumed with fire. Her body, after being embalmed and
committed to a leaden coffin, was buried with royal
splendour and pomp in the cathedral of Peterborough.
Elizabeth, who had treated her like a criminal while she
lived, seemed disposed to acknowledge her for a queen
when she wras dead.
On the death of his mother, the full government
of the kingdom devolved on James her son. Elizabeth,
apprehensive of his resentment for her treatment of his
mother, wrote hirn a letter, in which she disclaimed all
knowledge of the fact. James had received intelligence
of the murder before the arrival of this letter, which was
sent by one Cary. The messenger was stopped at Ber¬
wick by an order from the king, telling him, that, if
Mary had been executed, he should proceed at his pe¬
ril. James shut himself up in Dalkeith castle, in order
to indulge himself in grief’; hut the natural levity and
imbecility of his mind prevented him from acting in
any degree as became him. Instead of resolutely adhe¬
ring to his first determination of not allowing Cary to
set foot in Scotland, he in a few days gave his consent
that he should be admitted to an audience of certain
members of his privy-council, who took a journey to
the borders on purpose to wait upon him. In this con¬
ference, Cary demanded that the league of amity be¬
tween the two kingdoms should he inviolably observed.
He said that his mistress wras grieved at the death of
Mary, which had happened without her consent; and,
in Elizabeth’s name, offered any satisfaction that James
could demand. The Scots commissioners treated Cary’s
speech and proposal w ith becoming disdain '1 hey ob¬
served, that they amounted to no more than to know
whether James was disposed to sell his mother’s blood ;
adding, that the Scottish nobility and people were de¬
termined to revenge it, and to interest in their quarrel
the other princes of Europe. On this Cary delivered
to them the letter from Elizabeth, together with a de¬
claration of his own concerning the murder of the queen;
and it does not appear that he proceeded farther.
This reception of her ambassador threw Elizabeth in¬
to the utmost consternation. She was apprehensive that
James would join his force to that of Spain, and entire¬
ly overwhelm her ; and had the resentment or the ^pirit
of the king been equal to that of the nation, it i» pro¬
bable that thehaughty Englishprincesswouldhavebeen
made severely to repent her perfidy and cruelty. It
4oes not, how ever, appear, that James had any serious
intention of calling Elizabeth to an account for the Gotland,
murder of his mother; for which, perhaps, his natural —■—
imbecility may he urged as an excuse, though it is more
probable that his own necessity for money had swallow¬
ed up every other consideration. By the league former¬
ly concluded with England, it had been agreed that
Elizabeth should pay an annual pension to the king of
Scotland. James had neither economy to make his own
revenue answer his purposes, nor address to get it in¬
creased. He was therefore ahvays in want ; and as
Elizabeth had plenty to spare, her friendship became
a valuable acquisition. To this consideration, joined
to his view of ascending the English throne, must
chiefly he ascribed the little resentment shown by him
to the atrocious conduct of Elizabeth. 870
El izabeth wras not wanting in the arts of dissimula- Secretary
tion and treachery now more than formerly. She pro l^widson
secuted and fined Secretary Davidson and Lord Bur-
leigh for the active part they had taken in Mary’s punished,
death. Their punishment was indeed much less than
they deserved, hut they certainly did not merit such
treatment at her hands. Walsingham, though equally
guilt)', yet escaped by pretending indisposition, or per¬
haps escaped because the queen had now occasion for
his services. By her command he drew up a long let¬
ter addressed to Lord Thirlston, King James’s prime
minister; in which lie showed the necessity of putting
Mary to death, and the folly of attempting to revenge
it. He boasted of the superior force of England to-
that of Scotland ; showed James that he w ould for ever
ruin his pretensions to the English crown, by involving
the two nations in a war ; that he ought not to trust to-
foreign alliances ; that the Catholic party were so di¬
vided among themselves, that he could receive little
or no assistance from them, even supposing him so ill
advised as to change his own religion for Popery, and
that they would not trust his sincerity. Lastly, He
attempted to show, that James had already discharged
all the duty towards his mother and his own reputation
that could he expected from an affectionate son and a
w ise king ; that his interceding for her with a concern
so becoming nature, had endeared him to the kingdom
of England ; hut that it would be madness to push his
resentment farther.
This letter had all the effect that could he desired.
James gave an audience to the English ambassador ;
and being assured that his blood was not tainted by the
execution of his mother for treason against Eliz abeth,
but that he was still capable of succeeding to the crown
of England, he consented to make up matters, and to-
address the murderer of his mother by the title of lov¬
ing and affectionate sister.
Tlie reign of James, till his accession to the crown of
England by Elizabeth’s death in 1603, affords iittle
matter of moment. His scandalous concessions to Eli¬
zabeth, and his constant applications to her for money,
filled up the measure of his meanness. Ever since
the expulsion of Mary, the country had in fact been
reduced to tlie condition of an English province. The
sovereign had been tried by the queen of England, and
executed for treason; a crime, in the very nature of tha
thing impossible, had not Scotland been in subjection to
England; and to complete all, the conlemptibk succes¬
sor of Mary thought himself well off that he was not a
traitor
760
SCO T L A N I).
Scotland.
871
"Dist urbnn-
ces during
the reign of
James.
872
TIis super¬
stition and
cruelty.
873
King’s
marriage.
> 9.
traltop too, to his ^sovereign t!io queen of England we
must suppose, for the case will admit of no other sup¬
position.
During the reign of James, the religious disturbances
which began at the reformation, and that violent strug¬
gle of the clergy for power winch never ceased till the
revolution in 1GS8, went on with great violence. Con¬
tinual clamours were raised against Popery, at the same
time that the very fundamental principles of Popery
were held, nay urged in the most insolent manner, as the
effects of immediate inspiration. These were the total
independence of the clergy on every earthly power, at
the same time that all earthly powers were to be subject
to them. Their fantastic decrees were supposed to be
binding in heaven ; and they took care that they should
be binding on earth, for whoever had offended so far
as'to fall under a sentence of excommunication was de¬
clared an outlaw.
It is easy to see that this circumstance must have con¬
tributed to disturb the public tranquillity in a great de¬
gree. But besides this, the weakness of James’s govern¬
ment was such, that, under the name of peace, the
whole kingdom was involved in the miseries of civil war ;
the feudal animosities revived, and slaughter and murder
prevailed all over the country. James, fitted only for
pedantry, disputed, argued, modelled, and re-modelled,
the constitution to no purpose. The clergy continued
their insolence, and the laity their violences on one an¬
other ; at the same time that the king, by his unhap¬
py credulity in the operation of demons and witches, de¬
clared a most inhuman and bloody war against the poor
old women, many of whom were burnt for the imagi¬
nary crime of conversing with the devil.
King James had for some time formed a matrimonial
scheme, and had fixed his eyes on the princess Anne,
daughter of Frederick II. king of Denmark. Queen
Elizabeth attempted to embarrass this marriage as she
had done that of his mother, but James overlooked all
obstacles by an effort of gallantry of which he was
deemed incapable. On the 22d of October, 1589, he
sailed to Denmark and married the princess Anne, then
in the 16th year of her age. The character of this
princess has been generally represented in a very unfa¬
vourable light, hut probably the imputations which have
been cast on it, arose more from prejudice than reality.
In autumn 1600, a remarkable conspiracy happened Scotland"
against the liberty, if not the life, of the king. The at- v—^
tainder and execution of the earl of Gowrie for the part 875
lie acted in the raid of Eutbven and for subsequent prac-
tices of treason, have been already mentioned. Mis son* Xu. leoo,
however, had been restored to his paternal dignity and
estates, and had in consequence professed gratitude and
attachment to the king. But the Presbyterian clergy
continued to express their approbation of the raid of
Ruthven, and to declare on every occasion that in their
opinion the earl of Gowrie had suffered by an unjust
sentence. One of the most eminent and popular of that
order of men was preceptor to the younger Gowrie and
his brothers, who, from their frequent conversations
with him, must have been deeply impressed with the
belief that their father was murdered. The passion of
revenge took possession of their breasts ; and having in¬
vited the king from Falkland to the earl of Cowrie’s
house at Perth, under the pretence of showing him a
secret treasure of foreign gold, which he might lawfully
appropriate to his own use, an attempt was made to
keep him a close prisoner, with threats of putting him
to instant death if Ire should make any attempt to regain
his liberty.
The reality of this conspiracy has been questioned by
many writers, for no other reason, as it would appear,
but because they could not assign a rational motive for
Cowrie’s engaging in so hazardous an enterprise ; and
some have even insinuated that the conspiracy was en¬
tered into by the king against Gowrie in order to get
possession of his large estates. It has been shown how¬
ever by Arnot, in his Criminal Trials, with a force of
evidence which leaves no room for doubt, that the con¬
spiracy was the earl’s, who seems to have intended that
the king should be cut off by the hand of an assassin ;
and the same acute and discriminating writer has made
it appear highly probat)lfe,vthat he entertained hopes, in
the then distracted state of. the nation not ill founded,
of being able to mount the throne of his murdered so¬
vereign. (z)
The particulars of this conspiracy, as far as they can
be collected from the trial of the conspirators, and the
depositions of the witnesses, published by Mr Arnot and
the earl of Cromarty, are as follows. On the 5th of
August at seven in the morning, while the king was
about
(z) The family of Ruthven had long been looked upon as the head of that party which was attached to Eng¬
land and the reformation; and the accomplishments of the latter Gowrie qualified him to be the leader of an
enterprising faction. The importance he derived from aristocratic influence over his extensive domains, and from
the attachment of a powerful party in church and state, was embellished with the lustre of a regal descent. Thus
ambition, as well as revenge, might stimulate him to his daring enterprise. Indeed, if his attempt was to be di¬
rected against the life of the king, it could no longer be safe for him to remain in the condition of a subject: and
the indecent and malicious imputation of bastardy, with which the fanatics reproached King James, might afford
a plausible pretext for secluding the royal offspring. The family of Hamilton, next heir to the crown, had long
lost its popularity, and the earl of Arran, its head, had lost his judgment; and, though there undoubtedly were
several families interposed between Gowrie and the crown in the strict line of succession, none of them probably
possessed power and popularity to support their right. But if Gowrie and his brother were really endowed with
those personal accomplishments which have been so highly extolled, and which made their countrymen conceive
the most sanguine hopes of their early virtues ; it is absurd to suppose Lord Gowrie to have flattered himself, that
in a country where the church teas in danger, where the trumpet of sedition was sounded by the ministers who
fortified the chief block-house of the Lord's Jerusalem, his piety, popularity, and bravery, should supply the defect
m title, and make him be called, while there were nearer heirs to the crown; as has since happened in the same,
country, on a similar occasion.
S C O T L
Scotland, about to mount his horse, to hunt in Falkland park,
'■—'V'—-' Alexander Ruthven, brother of the earl of Gowrie,
addressed him in a very familiar manner. After the
hunt was over, the king desired the duke of Lenox to
accompany him to the carl of Gowrie’s at Perth, telling
him that Alexander Ruthven had invited him to get
some hidden treasure, but desired the duke to have an
eye to himself, and to follow him wherever he went
with Alexander Ruthven. When they arrived at the
earl of Gowrie’s, it was observed that" the earl’s ser¬
vants were armed. After the king had dined, Ruth¬
ven carried him to the uppermost part of the house,
where he attempted to make him a prisoner, and to bind
his hands , but the king resisted, and called out trea¬
son from the window. Sir John Ramsay, who carried
the king’s hawk, first entered the chamber, where he
saw Ruthven struggling with the king. Ramsay soon
despatched the traitor ; and the earl of Gowrie enter¬
ing with a sword in each hand, and followed by armed
men, there ensued a short conflict, in which the earl
was mortally wounded by Sir John Ramsay.
For this eminent service Sir John Ramsay was enno¬
bled; and thoughGowrie and his brother fell in the strug¬
gle, they were attainted by an act of parliament, wLich
decerned their name, memory, and dignity, to be extin¬
guished; their arms to be cancelled; their whole es¬
tates to be forfeited and annexed to the crown; the
name of Ruthven to be abolished; and their posterit}'
and surviving brethren to be incapable of succeeding
87- to, or of holding, any offices, honours, or possessions.
The West- The most memorable transaction of James’s reign,
ern islan- and that most to his honour, is the civilizing of the
lized Cm* Western islanders. For this purpose, he instituted a
company of gentlemen adventurers, to wffiom he gave
large privileges for reforming them. The method he
proposed wras to transport numbers of them to his low
countries in Scotland, and to give their islands, vdiich
were very improveable, in fee to his lowland subjects
who should choose to reside in the islands. The ex¬
periment was to be made upon the Lewes, a long range
of the Ebudse ; whence the adventurers expelled Mur¬
doch Macleod, the tyrant of the inhabitants. Macleod,
however, kept the sea; and intercepting a ship which
carried one of the chief adventurers, he sent him pri¬
soner to Orkney, after putting the crew to the sword.
Macleod was soon after betrayed by his own brother,
and hanged at St Andrew’s. The history of this new
undertaking is rather dark ; and the settlers themselves
seem to have been defective in the arts of civilization.
The arrangements they made were considered by the
inhabitants as very oppressive; and one Norman, of
the Macleod family, attacked and subdued them so
effectually, that they not only consented to yield the
property of the islands to him, but engaged to obtain
876 the king’s pardon for what he had done.
Accession From the conspirac}r of the Gowries there are few
if James to transactions deserving of notice in the reign of James
if Eng- VI. till the death of Queen Elizdfaeth, in 1603, called
and. him to the English throne. From that period the af-
An. 1603. fairs of Scotland are so intimately blended with those
of England, that they cannot properly be considered
apart. We have accordingly given a detail of the
transactions of both countries from the accession of
James to the throne of England, in the article Bri¬
tain. Some circumstances more peculiarly relating
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
AND.
761
Scotland.
to Scotland, will be found under the articles Edin
burgh, Leith, and Glasgow. i—,
We shall conclude the historical part of this article
with a brief review of the state of affairs in Scotland
from the introduction of the reformed religion, and a
general statement of the effects produced, by the ac¬
cession of James, on the state of his native kingdom. 877
The period of the reformation may be regarded as ^ev,.ew
the period of crimes. The people were reformed froni Lairs'1 from
Papacy to Protestantism ; but there was no reform intherefor-
their morals. It was the fashion to declaim about re- mation.
ligion ; but if we may judge from the facts related by
the annalists of those revolutionary times, religion
had but little influence on the lives and manners of
the people. Conspiracy followed conspiracy, and
crime succeeded crime in rapid succession. History
evinces that every great revolution produces the most
unhappy effects on the human character; and it is cer¬
tain from the annals of the reformation in Scotland,
that the turbulent spirit of the people received an ad¬
ditional incitement from the civil conflicts of the su¬
perior classes.
We have seen that the reformers were more studious
to pull down than to build. The whole estates of the
ancient church were appropriated b3r the nobles before
any proper establishment was made for the reformed
clergy. Laws for promoting and securing the refor¬
mation were ratified on every topic, except that of pro¬
viding for the ministers of the new religion. The
church judicatories and the reformed clergy took the
place, and assumed the practices, of the Papal esta¬
blishment and the Popish functionaries. The ministers
censured from the pulpits the conduct of the court;
they disputed the authority of the king, and promoted
tumults and sedition through the nation, so that the
king and the parliament found it necessary to enact a
variety of laws for enforcing the obedience of the ec¬
clesiastical to the civil power; and some of the clergy
continuing contumacious, they were expelled the king¬
dom. From this measure, however necessary it might
be deemed, the king acquired much popular odium ;
and it was the prelude to continual disputes between
him and the leaders of the reformation. In 1580, a
convention of the clergy assembled at Dundee, and
passed a resolution abolishing Episcopacy. This was
opposed by a counter declaration from the king ; and
in 1597, the parliament passed a law, by which it was
enacted, that “ ministers, provided to prelacy, should
have a place in the three estates. ”
In order to erect the assumptions of the newly formed
church on the ruins of the state, the clergy had proceed¬
ed to such lengths, that it became necessary to oppose
barriers to their pretensions. So early as the year 1584,
the parliament had passed an act, declaring, that the ho¬
nour, authority, and dignity, of the estates shall stand
and continue in their ancient integrity,supreme over all
things and all persons ; and, to support this declaration
by an adequate penalty, it was further declared to be
treason to call in question, or to diminish, the power of
the three estates. All other conventions or assemblies
that pretended to meet without the king’s authority,
were denounced as illegal. What was thus declared
amid the pavings of anarchy respecting the supreme
power of the state, constituted only new affirmations
of the ancient law; but these wise provisions were fol-
f 5 D lowed
762
SCOTLAND.
Scotland. imve(] foy a Vvhole code respecting the constituent mem-
pers> the mode of sitting, and the authority of the
three estates. This code was drawn up in the 11th
parliament of James VI.
As a new power had arisen rather in the church than
in the state,disputing the king’s legal capacity, the 18th
parliament in its zeal passed an act, acknowledging the
royal prerogative and the privilege of the crown over
all estates,persons,and causes; and this prerogative and
privilege the three estates engaged to maintain with
their lives, lands, and goods. Besides this, they provid¬
ed a standing guard for the safety of the king’s person.
The judicial power of the state had acquired a useful
improvement by the establisnment of the college of
justice in the preceding reign; but if the senators could
not act without question by individuals, justice held her
scales in vain. Amid the wildness and irascibility of
those times, some of the judges had been thus question¬
ed, and the parliament interposed in behalf of justice,
by declaring, that, whoever should challenge a senator
for his opinion, should be punished with death.
During the early ages of the Scottish nation, clan¬
ship from blood had existed in every part of North Bri¬
tain. Throughout the whole Scoto-Saxon period there
existed, as we have seen, from conquest and from birth,
a state of universal villenagc, which disappeared in the
] Jth century. Amid the anarchy of subsequent times,
there arose various clans, which were divided, accord¬
ing to the policy of those times, into clans of the Borders
and clans of the Highlands. From such a state of so¬
ciety, and from the want of employment, we may ac¬
count for the facility with which great bodies of men
were then drawn together at the call of every petty
chieftain. In some measure to counteract this facility of
exciting disturbance and rebellion, the parliament of
1587 had passed an act, by which the chiefs of all the
clans were obliged to give security for their peaceable
demeanour, and were made answerable for the enormi¬
ties committe4 by their adherents. By the union of
the two crowns, however, the clans of the borders were
in a great measure dissolved, and the quiet of that part
of the kingdom finally established. *
The Scots had so long considered their monarchs as
next heirs to the English throne, that they had full
ihe state of leisure to reflect on all the consequences of their being
Scotland, advanced to that dignity. But dazzled with the glory
of giving a sovereign to their powerful enemy, relying
on the partiality of their native prince, and in full ex¬
pectation of sharing liberally in the wealth and honours
which he would now be able to bestow, they attended
little to the most obvious consequences of that great
event, and rejoiced at his accession to the throne of
England, as if it had been no less beneficial to the
kingdom than honourable to the king. They soon had
reason, however, to adopt very different sentiments,
and from that period we may date a total alteration in
the political constitution of Scotland.
The feudal aristocracy which had been subverted in
most nations of Europe by the policy of their princes,
or had been undermined by the progress of commerce,
still subsisted with full force in Scotland. Many causes
had contributed gradually to augment the power of the
Scottish nobles ; and even the Reformation which, in
every other country where it prevailed, added to the
authority of the monarch, had increased tlieir wealth
* Ckal-
wrti’s Ca¬
ledonia,
vol. i.
878
^Effects of
James’s ac¬
cession on
and influence. A king possessed of a small revenue
with a prerogative extremely limited, and unsupport¬
ed by a standing army, could not exercise much au¬
thority over such potent subjects. He was obliged
to govern by expedients; and the laws derived their
force not from his power to execute them, hut from the
voluntary submission of the nobles. But though this
produced a species of government extremely feeble
and irregular; though Scotland, under the name and
with ail the outward ensigns of a monarchy, was real¬
ly subject to an aristocracy, the people were not al¬
together unhappy; and even in this wild form of a con¬
stitution, there were principles which tended to their
security and advantage. The king, checked and over¬
awed by the nobles, durst venture upon no act of ar¬
bitrary power. The nobles, jealous of the king, whose
claims and pretensions were many, though his power
was small, were afraid of irritating their dependants
by unreasonable exactions, and tempered the rigour of
aristocratical tyranny with a mildness and equality to
which it is naturally a stranger. As long as the mili¬
tary genius of the feudal government remained in vi¬
gour, the vassals both of the crown and of the barons
were generally not only free from oppression, but were
courted by their superiors, whose power and import¬
ance were founded on their attachment and love.
But, by his accession to the throne of England, James
acquired such an immense accession of wealth, of power,
and of splendour, that the nobles, astonished and intimi¬
dated, thought it vain to struggle for privileges which
they were now unable to defend. Nor was it from fear
alone that they submitted to the yoke. James, partial
to his countrymen, and willing that they should partake
in his good fortune, loaded them with riches and ho¬
nours ; and the hope of his favour concurred .vith the
dread of his power in taming their fierce and indepen¬
dent spirits. The will of the prince became the su¬
preme law in Scotland ; and the nobles strove, with
emulation, who should most implicitly obey commands
which they had formerly been accustomed to contemn*
Satisfied with having subjected the nobles to the crown,
the king left them in full possession of their ancient ju¬
risdiction over their own vassals. The extensive rights,
vested in a feudal chief, became in their hands dreadful
instruments of oppression ; and the military ideas, on
which these rights were founded, being gradually lost
or disregarded, nothing remained to correct or to miti¬
gate the rigour with which they were exercised. The
nobles, exhausting their fortunes by the expense of fre¬
quent attendance upon the English court, and by at¬
tempts to imitate the manners and luxury of their more
wealthy neighbours, multiplied exactions upon the peo¬
ple, who durst hardly utter complaints, which they
knew would never reach tire ear of their sovereign,
nor move him to grant any redress.
At their accession to the throne of England, the
kings of Scotland, once the most limited, became, in
an instant, the most absolute princes in Europe, and
exercised a despotic authority, which their parliaments
were unable to controul, or their nobles to resist.
The church felt the effects of the absolute power
which the king acquired by his accession; and its revo¬
lutions, too, are worthy of notice. James, during the
latter years of his administration in Scotland, had revi-*
ved the name and office of bishops. But they possessed
na
Scotland.
* Hokerl-
ton's Scot¬
land.
879
Scottish an
tiquities.
880
Dmidical.
Caledo¬
nia, vol. i.
p. 90.
881
Roman.
SCOT
no ecclesiastical jurisdiction or pre-eminence; their re-
J venues were inconsiderable; and they were scarcely
distinguished by any thing but by their seat in parlia¬
ment, and by being the object of the clergy’s jealousy
and the people’s hatred. The king, delighted with the
splendour and authority which the English bishops en¬
joyed, and eager to eifect a union in the ecclesiastical
policy which he had in vain attempted in the civil go¬
vernment of the two kingdoms, resolved to bring both
churches to an exact conformity with each other.
Three Scotsmen were consecrated bishops at London.
From them their brethren were commanded to receive
orders. Ceremonies unknown in Scotland were im¬
posed ; and, though the clergy, less obsequious than
the nobles, boldly opposed the innovations, James,
long practised and well skilled in the arts of managing
them, obtained at length their compliance. *
The monuments of antiquity belonging to North Bri¬
tain may be considered under three heads, as they be¬
long to the Celtic period, the Roman period, or the
Scoto-Irish period. Of the first of these periods very few
monuments now remain, and these are chiefly of the
tumular kind ; consisting either of circles of stones, the
evident remains of druidical worship, or of the remains
of the hill forts, which appear to have been employed
by the ancient Caledonians as places of defence. Of
these hill forts there is a remarkable example at Barrow-
hill in Aberdeenshire, which is described and figured
by Mr Chalmers; f and a similar fort appears to have
existed at Barry-hill near Alyth in Perthshire.
The remains of the Roman period in North Britain
appear chiefly in the celebrated wall built in the reign
of Antoninus Pius, between the friths of Forth and
Clyde ; in the ruins of which many curious inscriptions
have been found. Another striking object of this epoch
was a small edifice, vulgarly called Arthur s oven,
w hich seems to have been regarded by some antiquaries
as a small temple, dedicated to the god Terminus; pro¬
bably after the erection of the wall of Antoninus, for
we are not to conceive that these walls were the abso¬
lute lines, beyond which the Romans possessed no ter¬
ritory; while, on the contrary, in the pacific intervals,
the garrisons along the wall may have claimed the fo¬
rage of the exterior fields; and the stream of Carron,
beyond which this chapel stood, may have been consi¬
dered as a necessary supply of water. The remains of
the wall and forts, and other Roman antiquities in Scot¬
land, particularly their camps and stations, many of
which are remarkably entire, are ably illustrated in a
publication of General Roy, and in the Caledonia of
Mr Chalmers- General Roy, indeed, has too implicit¬
ly followed a common antiquarian error, in ascribing all
these camps, stations, Sec. to Agricola; while they
may be more justly assigned to Lollius Urbicus, A. D.
3 10, or to the emperor Severus, A. D. 207> especially,
indeed, to the latter; for the emperor’s appearance in
person to conduct two campaigns, probably as far as
Inverness, must have occasioned the erection of works
more eminent and durable than usual; the soldiers be¬
ing excited by the animating controul of a military mo¬
narch. In the reign of Domitian, Bolanus, as we learn
from Statius the poet, erected several works in Britain,
probably in the north; so that it is idle to impute these
remains to any one author : but, to a judicious eye,
the claims of Lolkus Urbicus and of Severus seem pre-
Catedo-
vol. i.
LAND. 763
ferable. One of the most northerly Roman camps j’ct Scotland,
discovered, is that near the source of the river Ythan, '*■
Aberdeenshire; periphery about two English miles.
A smaller station has also been observed at Old Mel-
drum, a few miles to the south-east.
Four remarkable Roman stations are described and
figured by Mr Chalmers ; one on the north bank of the
river Dee, near Peter-Culter in Aberdeenshire, occupy¬
ing about eight Scotch acres; * a second in Banff¬
shire on the southern bank of the Spey, near its ^25,
mouth; f a third on the eastern bank of the river |/6.p. 129.
Findhorn, near Forres, which we believe to be the
Vans of the Romans ; j: and a fourth, now* called thefL&.p. 131.
Green Castle, near Clattering Brig in Kincardineshire,
forming a fort wdiose internal area measures nearly 158
feet, by 262 feet. $ §76. p.i78>
Roman roads have been traced a considerable way in
the east of Scotland, as far as the county of Angus, af¬
fording some evidence of the existence of the province
of Vespasiana; but the chief remains are within the
wall. A hypocaust wras also discovered near Perth,
and another near Musselburgh, so that there w*as pro¬
bably some Roman station near the Scottish capital;
but the name of Alaterva is a ridiculous error, arising
from an inscription by some foreign cohort to obscure
goddesses of their own country, styled Matres Alater-
ves. The smaller remains of Roman antiquity found
in Scotland, as coins, utensils, &c. are numerous. g80
There remain few* monuments of antiquity that can Scoto-Irisk.
he referred to the earlier part of the Scoto-Irish period.
These consist principally of stone pillars and obelisks of
rude workmanship, and generally without inscriptions.
There are, however, some remarkable sculptured mo¬
numents referable to this period, such as the upright
stones that stand in a cultivated field near Cargil, and
are carved with figures of the moon and stars; a
sculptured pillar near Forres, supposed to refer to the
expulsion of the Danes in the reign of Malcolm II.;
a hieroglyphical column which stands conspicuous on
the moor of Rhyne in Aberdeenshire; some carved
stones in the churchyard of Meigle, and perhaps the
chapel of St Regulus at St Andrew’s.
Among the antiquities of this period w*e must not
omit to mention the remarkable terrace-hills, which are
seen in many parts of Scotland (especially in Peebles¬
shire, as in the parish of Newlands). These hills ap¬
pear to have served the purpose of amphitheatres,
where the people witnessed the exhibition of plays and
other public sports. .
The monuments of antiquity that have been referred Pictish.
to the Piets, are rather of doubtful authenticity. These
round towers, composed of stones without cement,
which have been called Piets houses, and are still found
in the Orkney islands, and in some parts of the north
of Scotland, are generally considered as the remains of
the nation whose name they bear, though Mr Chal¬
mers will have them to be the remains of the old Cel¬
tic architecture. 884
Many Danish monuments have been described by an- Danish,
tiquaries as existing in North Britain; but the charac¬
ters of most of them are not sufficiently distinct to ascer¬
tain their Danish origin. One of the most certain Da¬
nish antiquities is found in the churchyard of Ruthwell
hi Dumfries-shire. When this monument was entire, it
appeals -to have been about 18 feet high without its
5 D 2 pedestal.
764 SCOTLAND.
Scotland, pedestal, and to have been sculptured on each of its
four sides with foliage, birds, and marine animals, and
inscribed with Runic letters. This curious pillar, which
seems to be almost the only Runic remain in Scotland,
was formerly held in such high veneration by the com¬
mon people, that a decree of the general assembly of
the kirk, in 1644, ordained it to be thrown down as
an object of idolatry.
Of the numerous remains of castles, cathedrals, and
hnonasteries, which occur in almost every part of Scot¬
land, our limits do not permit us to take particular
notice. Many of them have been already described
under the names of the places where they are found;
and such of our readers as desire a more particular
account of these interesting ruins, may consult the
Beauties of Scotland, where their curiosity will be am-
885 ply gratified.
Population In our tabular view of the counties of Scotland, we
of Scotland. ]iave noted the population of each county as it was as¬
certained in 1801 and 1811, from which it appeared,
that, in the latter year, the whole population of Scot¬
land amounted to 1,805,688. From these, and other
facts, there can be no doubt that the general popula¬
tion of the country is increasing. Thus it appears,
that, in the year 1755, there were in Scotland about
1,265,000 souls ; and, in 1791, 1,526,000. (a) Of the
population in 1811, 907,431 persons lived in towns,
and 898,257 in the country. The number of families
was 402,068, of which 125,799 were chiefly employed
in agriculture, 169,417 in trade, manufactures, and
handicrafts, and 106,852 in other occupations. The
total number of houses was 315,422. The annual
number of baptisms was computed to be 53,162; of
burials 37,032; and of marriages 15,026. (See Col-
quhoun's Treatise on the Wealth and Power of the Bri-
886 tish Empire, 1815.)
Political The government of Scotland since the union has
constitu- been blended with that of England. The chief distinc¬
tion between the original constitution of the two coun¬
tries was, that Scotland had no house of commons, the
parliament consisting of all descriptions, assembled in
one hall. That enlightened prince James I. of Scot¬
land, endeavoured to establish a house of commons in
imitation of that of England, where he was educated ;
but the people most firmly^ and vigorously defended their
rncient customs. The most splendid remaining feature
of government in Scotland is the general assembly.
Next to this may be classed the high courts of justice,
especially that styled the Session, lately consisting of a
president and fourteen senators. The Lords of Coun¬
cil and Session, as they are styled in Scotland, upon their
promotion to office, assume a title, generally from the
name of an estate, by which they are knowrn and ad¬
dressed, as if peers by creation, while they are only con¬
stituted lords by superior interests or talents. This court
is the last resort in civil causes, and the only appeal is
to the British house of peers. The justiciary court,
which is the criminal court of Scotland, consists of five
judges, who are likewise lords of session ; but with a Scotland,
president, styled the lord justice clerk, as he is under- ——■J
stood to represent the formerly great office of justice
general, an office which still continues, though it may
be considered rather as a post of honour and profit.
This is the supreme court in criminal causes, which are
determined by the majority of a jury, and not by their
unanimity as in England. There is also a court of ex¬
chequer, consisting of a lord chief baron and four ba¬
rons, who have the chief jurisdiction over the public
revenue of Scotland; and a high court of admiralty^,
in which there is only one judge, who is the king’s
lieutenant and justice general on the high seas, and in
all ports and harbours. From this court there is no
appeal in maritime cases. The keepers of the great
and privy seals, and the lord-register or keeper of the
records, may also be mentioned under this head.
Besides the above national judges, there is in every
county, a sheriff, who acts as chief magistrate, and
whose jurisdiction extends to some criminal cases, and
to all civil matters which are not by special law or
custom appropriated to other courts.
The recent changes which have been made in the
court of session, byr dividing it into two houses, and
by establishing a jury court for introducing this mode
of trial in civil cases, are well calculated to favour the
despatch of business, and to improve the administra¬
tion of justice. At present the court of session con¬
sists of two divisions, the first of which is composed
of eight judges, having the lord-president at their
head, while in the second there are seven judges,
whose president is the lord justice clerk; and three of
the former, and two of the latter, act as permanent
judges-ordinary. (b) g87
At the union in 1709, the revenue of Scotland w?as pubiic re-
only 160,000/. In 1789, Sir John Sinclair has stated venues,
the proportion of the public revenues furnished by
North Britain to be as follows. The produce of the
Scotch customs, in the year ending January 5th 1789,
was 250,839/.; from which was deducted for deben¬
tures, bounties, salaries, and incidents, 171,638/. The
average yearly amount of the money7 belonging to the
exchequer is 72,500/. The salt duties in the same
year yielded 18,043/., from which wras deducted for
drawbacks, salaries, &c. 8749/. The duties of excise
for that year exceeded 422,000/.; the expense of ma¬
nagement 83,982/. The stamp duties amounted to
73,877/.; the charges of managing and collecting were
8032/. The whole revenue of Scotland for 1788 was
1,099,148/. The expenditure wras as follows—expenses
of the crown 60,342/.; expenditure of the public
173,921/.; bounties, drawbacks, &c. 127,629/.; pub¬
lic expenses settled by the union, and by subsequent
acts of parliament, 64,868/.; cash remitted to the Eng¬
lish exchequer 628,084./.; balance remaining for na¬
tional purposes 44,307/.
To the above statement of Sir John Sinclair must be
added the income arising from the posts, which in 1801
amounted
(a) This last number is taken from the returns published in Sir John Sinclair’s account. According to the
^u™s ^ tlie population act in 1801, Scotland, at that period, contained 294,553 inhabited houses, 9537 un¬
in mbited houses, 364,079 families, 734,581 males, 864,487 females, making a total of 1,599,068 inhabitants;
ot whom 365,516 were chiefly employed in agriculture; 293,373 chiefly employed in trade, manufactures, and
handicrafts, and 833,914 were not included in these two classes.
(b) For an account of the first establishment of the College of Justice by James V. see N° 473.
Scotland.
* Play¬
fairs Geog
vol. ii.
p. 558.
888
Scottish re¬
presenta¬
tion in par¬
liament.
SCOTLAND.
765
amounted to 89,817/.; and the product of the income
tax, which about the same time yielded 344,015/. and
was paid by 20,537 persons of various professions, whose
incomes were assessed at 4,512,570/. Thus the whole
revenue of Scotland at the end of the 18th century,
may be estimated at nearly one million and a half.
In 1813, the gross revenue of Scotland amounted to
4,519,892/., and, deducting charges of management,
the net revenue was 4,155,599/. The gross receipt of
customs that year, was 857,744/.; of excise 1,726,900/.;
of the property tax 966,790/.; of the land tax 24,551/.;
of the assessed taxes 412,977/.; of stamps 348,523/.;
of the post-office 167,877/.; miscellaneous 14,526/.
At the Union, the revenue of Scotland was only y^th
of the revenue of Great Britain, but in 1813 it was ra¬
ther more than -/yth ; and at the latter date, the reve¬
nue of Scotland was to that of Ireland nearly as 7 to 8.
In 1818, the gross produce of the customs for Scot¬
land was 904,080/., and the net produce 760,926/. The
gross produce of excise the same year was 2,199,988/.,
and the net produce 1,808,700/. The gross produce
of stamps was 462,516/., and the net produce 439,533/.
[Colquhoun s Treatise, Parliamentary Papers.)
It appears that the hereditary revenue of the crown
in Scotland was so much diminished during the 18th
century by lavish grants made by the crown, and a ne¬
glect in collecting what remained, as to amount in 1788
to only 800/. *
Scotland is represented in the British Parliament by
16 peers, chosen by the whole body of the Scottish
peerage, and by 45 commoners, of whom 30 are elected
by the counties, and the remaining 15 by as many di¬
stricts of royal boroughs, one by each district. The
following table will show what royal boroughs belong
to each district.
Districts. Members.
1. Edinburgh city - - 1
2. Aberdeen, Aberbrothic, Bervie, Montrose, and
Brechin - - 1
3. Ayr, Irving, Inverary, Rothsay, and Campbel¬
town - 1
4. Anstruther Easter and Wester, Crail, Kilrenny,
and Pittenweem ' - - 1
5. Banff, Cullen, Kintore, Elgin and Inverury 1
6. Stirling, Culross, Inverkeithing, Dunfermline,
and Queensferry - - 1
7. Perth, Dundee, Forfar, St Andrew’s, and Cupar
Fife - - - 1
8. Glasgow, Renfrew, Rutherglen, and Dumbarton 1
9. Dumfries, Sanquhar, Annan, Lochmaben, and
Kirkcudbright - - I
10. Inverness, Fortrose, Nairn, and Forres 1
11. Kinghorn, Dysart, Kirkcaldy, and Burntisland 1
12. Jedburgh, Haddington, Lauder, Dunbar, and
North Berwick - - 1
13. Selkirk, Peebles, Lanark, and Linlithgow 1
14. Stranraer, Wig ton, Whitehorn, and New Gal¬
loway - - ■ 1
15. Kirkwall, Tain, Dingwall, Wick, and Dornoch 1
The county members are elected by gentlemen pos¬
sessed of landed property, or superiorities of lands va¬
lued in the cess-books of the county at 400/. Scots
yearly rent, according to a valuation first introduced
during the administration of Cromwell, and afterwards Scotland,
sanctioned by parliament. •—v—
The law of Scotland differs essentially from that
England, as the former is founded in a great measure
on the civil law, while the latter depends chiefly on the
statutes or acts of parliament. The law' of Scotland al¬
so consists partly of statute law'; but as many of its an¬
cient statutes have never been enforced, the chief rule
of practice arises from the decisions of the court of ses¬
sion, which are carefully preserved and published, and
afford precedents that are generally deemed unexcep¬
tionable. The civil and canon laws may be said to
form the two great pillars of Scottish judicature, for of
common law there is scarcely a trace. The modes of
procedure in Scotland are in general free from many of
those legal fictions which disgrace the laws of some
other countries, though it may be regarded as a fiction,
that a debtor who refuses or neglects to pay, should be
proclaimed a rebel to the king. The procedure in
cases of debt is peculiarly mild in Scotland. No man
can be suddenly arrested as in England ; but he is first
put to the horn, as it is termed, after which a certain
delay is granted before the caption or arrest takes place.
For a particular account of the Scottish laws, see the
article Law. 890
The Presbyterian church government, which, since Religion,
the revolution in 1688, has formed the established re¬
ligion in Scotland, is founded on an equality of autho¬
rity among all its pastors or presbyters, and is modelled
after the Calvinistic plan adopted at Geneva, and re¬
commended to the Scotch reformers by the celebrated
John Knox. This form of church government, there¬
fore, excludes all pre-eminence of rank, as all the mi¬
nisters are on an equal footing. The want of ceremony
in the ordinances of the Scottish church is unpleasing
to the eye of a stranger who has been brought up in the
Catholic or Lutheran persuasion. He will particularly
be led to make a comparison between the form or ra¬
ther mode of burial in Scotland and the burial service
of England, very unfavourable to the former. He will
contrast the hurried step, and indifferent if not noisy
behaviour of the bearers and attendants, and the un¬
ceremonious deposition of the body in the earth, ac¬
cording to the Scotch custom, with the slow' and mea¬
sured pace, the serious demeanour and melancholy si¬
lence, the solemn and impressive burial-service, at an
English funeral; and he cannot but give the prefer¬
ence to the latter, as being alone calculated to produce
sentiments of awe and becoming thoughts of death and
a future state, both on the actors and spectators of the
solemn scene.
The most ceremonious ordinance of the Scotch church
is the administration of the sacrament. This takes place
twice a year, and the communicants are generally very
numerous, though in most parishes they must have pre¬
viously been examined by the minister, and received
from him a token of their qualification. Before the sa¬
crament is administered, a solemn fast is held on the
preceding Thursday, and the communicants attend di¬
vine worship in the forenoon on the Saturday preced¬
ing, and the Monday following the sacrament Sunday.
The former austerity of the Scottish clergy is consi¬
derably relaxed; but some marks of the ancient strict¬
ness of discipline still remain. In particular, the stool
of repentance, so commonly used in the age of fanati¬
cism.
■706
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, cisiw, is still-occasionally brought forward, especially in
^ the country churches, where a rustic culprit is some¬
times seen doing penance, and receiving public reproof
891 for some flagrant act of incontinence.
Eeclesiasti- The ecclesiastical power is distributed among the ju-
cal consti- dicatories of the church in the following manner. Scot-
tutiofl. land is divided into 935 parishes, each of which has one
or more ministers, who discharge the pastoral office ac¬
cording to their discretion, and are accountable only to
the presbytery of which they are members. In matters
relating todiscipline, theministers are assisted by elders,
selected from among the most intelligent and regular of
his parishioners; but these elders have no right to teach,
or to dispense the sacraments. I heir proper office is to
watch over the morals of the people, to qaestion them
as to their knowledge of the church catechism, and to
visit the sick. In attending to the interests of the poor,
they also discharge the office of deacons, or church-war¬
dens, and are commonly called ruling elders. The rul¬
ing elders and the minister of the parish form what is
called the kirk session, which is the lowest assembly of
ecclesiastical judicature in Scotland. The kirk-session
distributes among the poor the alms which are collected
at the church doors every Sunday, and it takes Cog¬
nisance of petty offences against religion and good mo¬
rals. Neither the kirk- session, nor any other ecclesiastical
court, however, can impose any civil penalty, but must
confine its punishments toprivate or public admonitions,
or refusing to the offender admission to the sacraments
of the church, Next above the kirk-session is the pres¬
bytery, composed of an indefinite number of ministers of
contiguous parishes, with one ruling elder, elected half-
yearly as the representative of each kirk-session; so that
a presbytery is composed of an equal number of minis¬
ters and elders. The presbyteries take cognizance of
all ecclesiastical matters within their bounds ; judge in
cases of appeal from the kirk-sessions, and judge of the
qualifications of candidates for admission to holy orders.
Three or more adjacent presbyteries form a synod, of
which there are 15. The synod is a court of appeal
from the presbyteries within its bounds, and has tire pow¬
er of confirming or reversing the judgments of those in¬
ferior assemblies, an appeal lying from it to the general
assembly. This is the great ecclesiastical court of Scot¬
land, and is composed of representatives from presby¬
teries, universities, and royal boroughs, in the following
proportion. The presbyteries send 200 ministers, and
89 ruling elders; the royal boroughs 67 elders, and
the universities five representatives, who may be either
ministers or elders. These representatives are elected
annually, and the assembly itself meets once a year, and
holds its sittings for about 10 days, after which it is
dissolved by the moderator or the ecclesiastical president,
and by the lord commissioner, who sits in it as the re¬
presentative of theking. The general assembly judges in
appeals from the synods, and it can also enact lawswhich
are binding on the whole church for one year. A per¬
manent law can be made only in the following manner.
It must be decreed by a majority of the general assem¬
bly, and be afterwards remitted to the consideration of
all the presbyteries. If a majority of these approve it, Scotland,
and if it is also approved by the succeeding general —v——'
assembly, it becomes a law, and can be repealed only
in the form in which it was enacted, (c) The numbers
of presbyteries and parishes which compose each sy¬
nod, will appear from the following table.
Synods.
1. Lothian and Tweeddale
2. Merse and Teviotdale
3. Dumfries
4. Galloway
5. Glasgow and Ayr
6. Perth and Stirling
7. Fife
8. Forfar and Mearns
9. Aberdeen
10. Murray
11. Ross
12. Sutherland and Caithness
13. Argyle
14. Glenelg
15. Orkney
Presb.
7
G
5
3
7
5
4
6
9
7
3
3
5
5
4
Parishes.
107
67
54
37
123
79
65
81
103
53
24
23
52
29
38
79
The stipends or salaries of the ministers are paid by
the proprietors of the lands within their parishes, called
the heritors, and are fixed by the court of session acting
as a committee of the Scottish parliament. They are
usually paid partly in money and partly in kind, and
in general the latter is preferred by the minister. 8g<?
There are in Scotland numerous dissenters from the Dissenters,
established persuasion. Of these, some differ in no¬
thing but their ideas of church-government, as those
which are called the churches of Relief. These compose
a single synod, comprising six presbyteries, viz. Edin¬
burgh, Glasgow, St Ninians, Dysart, Perth and Dum¬
fries, and about 73 parishes. Two of the principal sects
of Scotch dissenters, or, as they are called, Seceders, are
the Burghers and Antiburghers, both independent of
the established church, and differing from each other
principally in this circumstance, that the Burghers ad¬
mit the legality of the oaths taken by burgesses in some
of the royal boroughs, while the latter deny the legali¬
ty of these oaths. The Burghers are the more nume¬
rous body, and comprise a single synod, comprehending
10 presbyteries, viz. those of Edinburgh, Glasgow, Kil¬
marnock, Falkirk and Stirling, Dunfermline, Perth,
Coldstream, Selkirk, Lanark, and Aberdeen, The
Antiburgher synods are three in number, viz. the sy¬
nod of Edinburgh, comprehending the presbyteries of
Edinburgh, Kelso, and Dumfries ; the synod of Perth,
comprehending the presbyteries of Perth, Kirkcaldy,
and Forfar ; and the synod of Glasgow, containing the
presbyteries of Glasgow, Kilmarnock, Stirling, Elgin,
and Aberdeen.
Besides these dissenters, there are in Scotland seven
dioceses belonging to the Episcopalian church, viz.
those of Edinburgh and Fife, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Mo¬
ray, Ross, Dunkeld, and Brechin; and the congregations
of
(c) The general assembly owes its institution to the parliament that met in 1560, by consent of Francis and
z*Uiryj to regulate the affairs ol the nation and the church ; and the first assembly was held in that year.
SCOT
^ Scotland. 0f thJs persuasion are numerous and respectable. The
' Methodists and Anabaptists are also numerous, but the
893 Quakers are few in number.
Language. It is well known that there prevail in Scotland
two languages that are extremely different in their na¬
ture and origin, the Earse or Gaelic, spoken in the
Highlands and in the Western Islands, andjthe Lowland
Scotch, spoken in the remaining parts of the country.
Of the Gaelic language we have already treated at some
length in the article Philology, IS!° 205 et seq.; and
shall here only give a specimen of that language in the
Lord’s prayer, contrasting it with the Norse language
as formerly spoken in the Orkneys, and with the an¬
cient form of the Lowland Scotch.
Lord's Prayer in Gaelic.
A n’Athair ata air Neamh. Gu naamhaichear t-
Tinm. Tigeadh do Rioghachd. Deanthar do Thoil
air an Talamh mar a nithear air Neamh. Tabhair
dhuinn an diu ar n-Aran laitheil. Agus maith dhuinn
ar Fiacha amhuil mar mhaitmid d’ar luehd-fia chaibh.
Agus na leig am buaireadh sinn. Ach saor sinn o ole.
Amen.
Lords Prayer in the Orkney Norse Language.
Favor ir i chimre. Helleur ir i namthite. Gilla
cosdum thite cumma. Yeya thine mota vara gort o
yum sinna gort i chimrie. Ga vus da on da dalight
brow vora. Firgive vus sinna vora sin vee forgive sin-
dara mutha vus. Lyve us ye i tuntation. Min delivi-
ra vus fro olt ilt. Amen ; or, on sa meteth vera.
Lords Prayer in Old Scotch.
Uor fader quhilk beest i Hevin. Hallowit weird
thyne nam. Cum thyne kingrik. Be dune thyne
wull as is i hevin sva po yerd. Uor deilie breid gif us
thilk day. And forleit us uor skaths, as we forleit
tham quha skath us. And leed us na intil temtation.
Butan fre us fra evil. Amen.
By comparing the above specimens, it will be evi¬
dent, that both the Norse of the Orkneys, and the old
Lowland Scotch are essentially different from the Gae¬
lic, but that the two former have some distant resem¬
blance to each other, which may lead an etymologist,
without any great stretch of fancy, to believe that they
originated from the same source. It has indeed been
very generally believed, and almost taken for granted,
that the language spoken in the Lowlands of Scotland
is merely a corrupt dialect of the Anglo-Saxon, and
that it was introduced into Scotland from South Britain
at no very early period. The learned author of Caledo¬
nia is decidedly of this opinion, and contends that, pre¬
vious to the establishment of a Saxon monarch on the
throne of Scotland in the person of Edgar, son of Mal-
wY N D. 7QY
colm Canmore, no other language but Gaelic was Scotland,
spoken in North Britain, except in Lothian, which may 1 v" 'l
be considered as then an English settlement. He fur¬
ther declares that the oldest document which he has
met with in the Scottish language, is a contract with
the magistrates of Edinburgh in 1387.
There can be no doubt of the affinity between the
Lowland Scotch and the Anglo-Saxon. The only
matter in dispute is, whether the latter was borrowed
from the former, or was a dialect of the same Gothic
language introduced into Scotland at an earlier period.
One of the most strenuous, and perhaps successful ad¬
vocates for the latter opinion is Dr John Jamieson, who
in his elaborate wmrk on the Scottish language has ably-
controverted the arguments of Mr Chalmers, and plead¬
ed for the independent origin of the Scottish language.
This is believed by Dr Jamieson to have been spoken
by the Piets, and to have been brought by them from
Scandinavia ; for he is decidedly of opinion, in opposi¬
tion to Mr Chalmers, that the Piets were not a remnant
of the ancient Caledonians under a new name, but an
independent Gothic tribe, who at a very early period
established themselves in the north of Scotland, (d)
There are two principal peculiarities in the Scottish
language; the use of the quh at the beginning of words,
where the English use the teh, and the change of the
Anglo-Saxon th into d; both which peculiarities are
evidently borrowed from the northern Gothic langua¬
ges.
In their pronunciation of the vowels, the Scotch fol¬
low the method of the French, and other nations of
the continent, though, as in England, this general
custom is subject to many anomalies. Thus the a,
which in man, and most other words, is pronounced
broad, is, in Father, and a few other instances, pro¬
nounced open, Veyther. ^
Scottish literature cannot be traced to an early pc- Literature,
riod. In the middle ages it consisted, like that of other
countries, in little more than meagre chronicles, com¬
posed by ill-informed and credulous monks. Indeed,
according to Mr Pinkerton, the country that produced
Buchanan in the 16th century, could not in the 12th
boast of a single native writer. It first began to dawn
in the 13th century, when Scotland, filled with a bar¬
barous Scandinavian colony, cannot be compared, in re¬
spect of literature, with the southern countries of Eng¬
land and Ireland; but with Scandinavia itself, with
Holland and with the north of Germany, with Poland,
Prussia, Russia, and Hungary. In all these countries
literature is comparatively recent, and compared with
them, Scotland will not be found deficient. It must not
indeed be forgotten, that in the sacred ground of Iona
flourished several respectable Scoto-Irish writers, who
were also classed among th,e apostles of religion in Eng¬
land, such as the biographers of Columba, Cumenius,
and Adamnan, the latter the friend of the English his¬
torian
(d) We have in the early part of this article, perhaps too hastily, adopted Mr Chalmers’s opinion, that the
Piets were not an independent race. The arguments which Mr Chalmers has adduced in support of this opinion,
so opposite to that of most antiquaries and historians, are ingenious and plausible; but as they are drawn chiefly
from the names of places, rivers, &c. in North Britain, which are allowed on all hands to be generally Celtic,
and are in direct opposition to the testimony of Bede, the earliest British historian, Dr Jamieson will noi al¬
low that they have the weight which at first sight they appear to merit.
SCOTLAND.
768
Scotland, torian Bede; and among the Strathclyde Gaels, may
u—v——be noticed St Patrick, the apostle of Ireland.
The earliest fragment of Scottish literature is the
Chronicon Pictorum, supposed to have been written by
some Irish priest, in the beginning of the 11th century.
Of the 12th century there are some fragments of the
register of St Andrew’s, some short chronicles published
by Father Inncs ; the chronicle of Melrose, and that of
Holyrood. Towards the conclusion of the 13th cen¬
tury, appeared some writers of considerable estimation,
particularly Michael Scot a philosopher, mathemati¬
cian and physician, and also celebrated as an astrologer
and alchemist, who published voluminous commentaries
on the works of Aristotle ; Thomas Learmont of Ercil-
doun, commonly called Thomas the Rhymer, famous
for his poetical compositions, and his skill in heraldry,
■who wrote a metrical romance called Sir Tristrem; and
John Scot of Dunse, or Duns Scotus, a consummate
metaphysician and voluminous writer. In the 14th
century lived John of Fordoun, the author of Scoto-
Chronicon, a historical work of considerable merit, and
John Barbour, archdeacon of Aberdeen, who wrote a
poem on the actions of Robert I., which is no mean mo¬
nument of the industry and talents of that age. King
James I. who flourished in the beginning of the 15th
century, may be ranked as the next Scottish writer of
eminence. He was a learned and accomplished prince,
and was the author of some excellent poems. James
was followed by Holland and Harry the Rhymer. In
the 16th century we may notice Elphingston, bishop
of Aberdeen, who composed the Scoticorum Chronicum,
and was distinguished both for learning and piety; Dun¬
bar, the chief of the ancient Scottish poets; Gavin
Douglas, bishop of Dunkeld, who published an excel¬
lent poetical translation of Virgil’s Eneid, and David
Lindsay of the Mount. John Knox, the chief instru¬
ment and promoter of the reformation; John Major and
Hector Boethius, two historians of considerablenote, al¬
so belonged to this century; and the admirable Crich¬
ton must not be forgotten, though the usual accounts
thathavebeen given of his accomplishments are strongly
tinctured with fable and romance. At the latter end
of the same period flourished the classical Buchanan, an
elegant historian and Latin poet, and John Leslie bishop
of Ross, the author of many esteemed works, who was
versed in theology and philosophy, in the civil and ca¬
non law, and was besides an able statesman.
The learned Archbishop Spottiswood, published aju-
dicious ecclesiastical history of Scotland; and the natural
history of this country was illustrated by Sir Andrew
Balfour and Sir Robert Sibbald, two of its greatest orna¬
ments. The discovery of logarithms in the beginning
of the 17th century, is the indisputable right of Napier
of Merchiston; and since his time, mathematical science
has been cultivated in Scotland with singular success.
The works of Keil,Gregory,Maclaurin,Simson, Stewart,
Robison, Playfair, &c. are universally read and admired.
During the 18th century this country produced other
eminent writers in various departments of science. A-
mong the Scots divine and moral philosophers, we may
particularize Blair, Campbell, Hutcheson, Leechman,
Macknight; among the statesmen and lawyers, Sir
George Mackenzie, Viscount Stairs, Sir Thomas Craig,
Lord Kames; among the historians, Hume, Robertson,
Henry, Lord Hailes, Ferguson; among the political
and moral writers, Smith, Reid, Lord Monboddo, Beat- Scotland,
tie; among the physicians and surgeons, Bell, Biack,
Cullen, Gregory, William and John Hunter, Hutton,
Monro, Smellie, Whytt; and among the Scottish poets,
Blair, Burns, Home, Ramsay, Thomson, Wilkie. The
names now mentioned, besides Mansfield and Burnet,
may be sufficient to show that Scotland has produced
able writers in almost every useful branch of science.
Among the few departments of literature in which
Scottish writers have been less successful, may be men¬
tioned biography, epic poetry, the critical illustration
of the classics and comedy. *■ Indeed the efforts of the* See Pm*
dramatic muse have been singularly damped in Scotlandforton’*
from the fanatical prejudices of its clergy ; but we trust ^ A
that these illiberal prejudices have now subsided, and^j^y*
that the venerable author of Douglas will stand on re-Vol. ii.
cord as the last example of ecclesiastical censure, on
account of his devotion to the drama.
Within the last 20 years, the progress of Scottish li¬
terature has perhaps been greater than at any former
period. During that interval, booksellers shops have
been established, where formerly there was scarcely a
book-stall, and there are now few towns of any consi¬
deration that do not possess a printing-press. The in¬
crease of newspapers and periodical publications, espe¬
cially in the capital of Scotland, is also very great,
there being now published at Edinburgh not fewer than
six monthly and quarterly reviews and magazines, and
at least eight newspapers. §95
The progress of the arts in Scotland has of late scarce- State of the
ly fallen short of that of the sciences. Skilful workmen arts*
in the mechanic arts, especially in those of joinery and
cabinet-making, are numerous in the large towns ; and
even musical instruments of considerable price and excel¬
lent workmanship, are constructed in Edinburgh. The
liberal arts of painting and engraving have been carried
to great perfection ; and both these and the art of print¬
ing are now exercised in Edinburgh in a style little, if
at all, inferior to that of the London artists. The nu¬
merous public and private buildings in Edinburgh and
Glasgow, bear ample testimony to the abilities of Scot¬
tish architects, and show that they are by no means be¬
hind their brethren of the south in grandeur and beauty
of design, and elegance and solidity of execution. 896
The mode of education pursued in Scotland is highly Educatioi).
laudable ; and is, perhaps, the best practical system pur¬
sued in any country in Europe. The plan which is fol¬
lowed in the cities, is nearly the same with that in
England, either by private teachers, or at large pub¬
lic schools, of which the high school of Edinburgh is
the most eminent, and may be traced back to the 16th
century. The superior advantage of the Scottish educa¬
tion consists in every country parish possessing a school¬
master as uniformly as a clergyman; at least, the rule is
general, and the exceptions rare. The schoolmaster
has a small salary, which enables him to educate the
children at a rate easy and convenient even to indigent
parents. It may, indeed, be computed, that a shilling
will go as far in this parochial education, as a guinea in
an English school. In the Highlands, the poor chil¬
dren attend to the flocks in summer, and the school in
winter. Till within these few years, the salaries of the
Scotch parochial schoolmasters were sotriflingas to hold
out no adequate encouragement to young men of abili¬
ties to engage in that useful office; but they have lately
3 been
Scotland.
* T.aing's
Hist, of
Scotland,
vol. iii.
p. 479.
897
Universi-
fNS.
898
Agricul-
•ture.
SCOT
been augmented, and the establishment of a fund for
the widows of schoolmasters in Scotland, has added to
the respectability of the situation.
A great majority of the Scottish youth are educated
for the church, and from this class the families of the
gentry are generally supplied with private tutors, and
the schools and academies with masters. It has been
observed by Mr Laing, that “ the poverty of the
church of Scotland is peculiarly unfavourable to the
pursuit of letters; her universities make no provision
for the independence and ease of a studious life. The
wealthy benefices of the English church may afford a
final retreat, and its well endowed universities, an in¬
termediate sanctuary for literary repose, where a taste
for classical and polite learning is cultivated and preser¬
ved. But the Scottish clergy, who are removed from
the university early in life, to a remote solitude, have
neither access to the works of the learned, nor the
means, if they retain the desire, of improving the acqui¬
sitions which they have already made. No one is illite¬
rate ; but the church has not yet been distinguished by
a man of extensive or profound erudition. Their edu¬
cation imparts some smattering of science ; their trials
of ordination require an equal proportion of Greek and
Hebrew; and the same parity is observable in the
learning and in the discipline of the church. ” *
There are in Scotland four universities, viz. those of
St Andrew’s, Aberdeen, Glasgow, and Edinburgh; a
particular account of which will be found under those
articles. The university of Edinburgh, though of most
recent origin, is now in the highest estimation; from
the numerous departments of science and literature
there taught, and the general ability of its professors.
The Scotch universities, unlike those of England, sel¬
dom consist of more than one college, and St Andrew’s
may be considered as the only proper exception to
this observation, as the colleges of Aberdeen are in
distinct towns, viz. the one in Old, and the other in
New Aberdeen. There are professors of medicine at
all these universities; but only Edinburgh and Glasgow
can be regarded as medical schools.
We can here only enter on a few general observations
respecting Scottish agriculture, as tire state of husbandry
in Scotland may be best seen from the general descrip¬
tion given of the several counties, and from the article
Agkicultuhe. In the lower districts particularly,
agriculture has arrived at a great degree of perfection.
In the counties of Berwick, East Lothian, Ayr, La¬
nark, Stirling, Perth, Angus, and Mearns, the face of
the country has, in consequence ot the improved cul¬
tivation, assumed a new appearance, being highly cul¬
tivated, and generally inclosed with thorn hedges, in¬
stead of the former inclosures of stone dykes. Rich
crops of wheat, barley, clover and turnips, are now
raised on Helds which some yeai-s ago afforded only
scanty pasturage for sheep ; and potato crops are now
become general and excellent. Of the mountainous
districts, black cattle and sheep are the staple commo¬
dities, and the rocky shores produce abundance of kelp.
In a few years the deficiency of timber, so much com-
plaked of by southern travellers, will be abundantly
supplied, .as many proprietors are now covering their
waste lands with extensive forests. One nobleman, the
earl of Moray, from 1767 to 1807, planted upwards of
Vol, XVIII. Part II.
LAND. 769
13,000,000 of trees, of which 1,500,000 are oak. The Scotland,
value of land in Scotland is within these few years pro- v—•J
digiously increased, and an Englishman will scarcely
believe, that in some parts of Scotland extensive farms
are let at 5l. and even 61. per acre. * *
As the valued rent of land is intimately connected^
with the progress of agricultural improvement, we shall p. 547.
here give a table of the rental of the several Scotch
counties, as it has been valued in Scotch money.
Counties.
Aberdeen
Argyle
Ayr
Banff
Berwick
Bute and Arran
Caithness
Clackmannan
Cromarty
Dumbarton
Dumfries
Edinburgh
Elgin
Fife
Forfar
Haddington
Inverness
Kincardine
Kinross
Kirkcudbright
Lanark
Linlithgow
Nairn
Orkney and Shetland
Peebles
Perth
Renfrew
Ross
Roxburgh
Selkirk
Stirling
Sutherland
Wig ton
Valued rent in Scots Money.
8
10
0
0
7
11
0
7
0
.235,665
14'9,595
191,605
79,200
178,365
15,022 13
37,256 2
26,482 10
12,897 2
33,327 19
158,627 10
191,054 3
65,603
362,534
171,636
168,878
73,188
74,921
20.192 11
114,571 19
162,118 16 11
74,931 19 0
15,163
56,551
,51,937
339,818
68,076 15
75,140 10
315,594 14
80,307 15
108,518 8
26.193 9
67,646 17
8
10
10
8
0
0
9
5
5
0
10
0
4
2
3
1
1
10
8
2
3
6
6
9
9
0
Total, L. 3,802,574 10 5£ Scots.
Or, Sterling, L.316,881 4 2-£
899
The inhabitants of North Britain can scarcely be Manufac-
regarded as a commercial people before the end of the tures and
eleventh century, when the accession of Edgar, bycommerce*
placing a line of Saxon monarchs on the Scottish
throne, introduced into Scotland that spirit of trade
and commerce, which at an early period distinguished
the Saxon inhabitants of South Britain. It has in¬
deed been pretended that the Scotch had a fishery at
home, and a foreign traffick with the Dutch, as early
as the beginning of the ninth century; but the forme*
is improbable, since the religious prejudices of the
Gaelic people led them to regard fish as unhallowed
food, and fishery as an unlawful occupation ; and the
latter assertion is at least incorrect, since the Dutch
did not exist as a commercial society at that early
period. The chief seats of trade have, in all ages,
f 5 E 8b4
770
•S C O T I, A N D.
Scotland. ^ jn evei-y country, been the towns; but Celtic
v “ Scotland liad neither towns nor cities, till the erection
of castles and monasteries, subsequent to the eleventh
century, produced the formation of villages under their
walls. These villages became towns, from the settle¬
ments of the English, Anglo-Normans, and Flemings
in them, during the 12th century; and from that time
we may properly date the commencement of Scottish
commerce.
At a period little anterior to this, the Scotch car¬
ried on several domestic manufactures. They manu¬
factured their own flax into linen, and their hides into
leather. They also wrought the wool of their flocks
into coarse cloth: and these woollen fabrics were re¬
gulated by a particular assize during the reign of Da¬
vid I. Necessity had early introduced smiths, tan¬
ners, and shoemakers, into every village, and dyers,
goldsmiths, and armourers, into every town. Salt
works became an object of attention in the reign of
David I., because they furnished a revenue to the kings
and nobles, and profit to the monks. In the same
reign, water-mills were subject to tithes, and tenants
were obliged to grind at particular mills. The Scot¬
tish kings had mills at each of their burghs, and on se¬
veral of their manors; and from these mills they de¬
rived a considerable revenue, and a constant source of
munificent grants to the religious establishments. Be¬
fore the middle of the thirteenth century, wind-mills
had been universally introduced, and there was a malt
kiln and a brew-house in every village. These ob¬
jects were considered as domestic manufactures, aris¬
ing from husbandry, which was at that time the uni¬
versal pursuit among all ranks, from the prince to the
peasant.
It is curious to observe, that Scone was not only the
metropolis of Scotland at the beginning of the Scoto-
Saxon period, but also one of the earliest places of fo¬
reign commerce. Perth had also a foreign traffick in
those early times, and St Andrew’s partook of the
riches which flow from distant trade. Next to these,
in the advantages resulting from a commercial inter¬
course with foreign nations, followed Stirling, Inver-
esk, Dunfermline and Aberdeen.
Ihe erection of certain towns into royal burghs,
though founded on the principles of exclusion and mo¬
nopoly, tended to advance the general interests of
•trade. Each of these burghs had particular districts
through which their privileges extended, and to which
they were confined. Towards the conclusion of the
Scoto-Saxon period, the Flemings had placed a com¬
mercial factory at Berwick, and before the death of
Alexander III. a trade had been opened with Gasco¬
ny, for the importation of wine and corn.
The first great traders in Scotland seem to have
been the heads of monasteries, as they alone possessed
at once the spirit of commercial enterprise, and a suf¬
ficient capital to engage in promising speculations.
1 o them belonged the principal ships; they had at
first the exclusive privileges of fishing, and they were
the chief bankers of those times.
After the numerous conflicts and revolutions which
disturbed the peace of Scotland, previous to its union
nith England, its manufactures were not probably in a
much better state of improvement at that epoch/ than
they had been at the death of Alexander TIL They Scotland,
had been sometimes encouraged, but they seem never ^—J
to have advanced beyond the domestic supply. Of
course the commerce of North Britain could never
have been very extensive, and its exports must have
been confined chiefly to corn, and the raw products of
the country. Since the union, the industry and ma¬
nufactures of Scotland have been assiduously cultivat¬
ed, and the attempts at improvement in the national
commerce have, in the tedious result, proved success¬
ful beyond expectation. The establishment of the
Iloyal Bank, and of the society for the improvement
of agriculture in the reign of George I., and the sub¬
sequent establishment of a board of trustees for im¬
proving the manufactures, trade, and fisheries of North
Britain, have been the means of adding greatly to the
riches and prosperity of the country. *
See Chal-
ntfrs's Ca-
Since the union, this country has shared in the na-/,,,,,
tional prosperity. Towards the middle of last century, Vol. i.
manufactures began to flourish, and trade increased in
due proportion. Without troubling the reader with a
detail on this subject, it may be sufficient to observe,
that, about 20 years ago, manufactures in many towns
were carried on to a great extent. Cotton cloths
alone employed in Glasgow, and its neighbourhood,
15,000 looms and 135,000 persons. Queen's ware,
and the inkle manufacture, were 'likewise important
branches in that city. In and near Paisley, upwards
of 10,000 persons of all descriptions, were employed,
in the manufacture of silk gauze, arid 12,0(30 in work¬
ing lawns, muslins, and cambrics ; besides other trades,
which were very productive. Common and flint-glass,
to a great amount, is prepared in Dumbarton, Leith,
and other parts of the country. Diapers are wrought
in Dunferiine to the value of 50,000/. or 60,000/.
a year. Checks and ticks are staple commodities in
Kirkaldy. Coarse linen, sail-cloth, osnaburgs, &c. are
manufactured in Dundee, Arbroath, Aberdeen, and
Forfar. Paper-mills, delft-houses, and sugar-houses,
have been erected in several towns and villages. Ex¬
tensive ironworks are established in Fife, on the
Clyde, and at Carron; in the last of which move
than 1000 workmen are occasionally employed. The
whale, herring, and salmon fisheries, are inexhausti¬
ble sources of wealth. The coal trade is well known,
and extremely productive. Here it may not be im¬
proper to state, that the limits of the coal country
on tiie west coast, are Saltcoats and Girva.n ; on the
east coast, North Berwick and Fifeness stretching
from south-west to north-east in breadth, about SO
or 40 miles. Beyond these limits, no coal strata
have hitherto been found. The exportation of black
cattle to ^England has been highly advantageous to
this country. The coasting trade to the south is
carried on from Leith and other eastern ports, whilet
Glasgow is the great emporium with the West i(‘e0°'
dies. + voL ”•
Another subject conected with commerce is the in- Inland na-
land navigation. The canals of Scotland are the Forth ^gaiion.
and Clyde, the Crinan (see Canal), the Mnnkland,
running 12 miles east from Glasgow, the Ardrossan,
the Caledonian, and the Union canal, to extend from
Edinburgh to Falkirk ; the two latter are not yet fi¬
nished.
Scotland.
SCOT I
The following Tables by Sir John Sinclair (10th
volume, Pamphleteer), afford the best view of the
Statistics of Scotland hitherto published.
Extent.
Square miles.
' Land. Fresh-mater lakes■ ‘Totals.
1. Mainland of Scotland
2. Hebrides
3. Orkney Islands
4. Zetland Isles
25,520 494 26,014
2,800 101 2,904
425 15 440
855 25 880
AND.
3. Barley
4. Oats -
5. Rye -
6. Beans and peas
7. Potatoes
8. Turnips
9. Flax
10. Fallow
11. Gardens and orchards
Brought over
Acres.
2,629,820
280,193
1,260,362
500
118,000
80,000
407,125
16,500
218,950
32,000
771
Scotland.
29,600 638 30,238
STATE 0F PROPERTY.
Proprietors.
1. Large properties, or estates above 2000/.
of valued rent, or 2500/. sterling of real
rent - - 396
2. Middling properties, or estates from 2000/.
to 500/. of valued rent, or from 2500/.
to 625/. of real rent ... 1077
3. Small properties or estates under 500/. va¬
lued rent, or 625/. of real rent - - 6181
4. Estates belonging to corporate bodies - - 144
VALUE OF CROPS.
Acres. Per acre.
1. Grass lands - 2,489,725 at L.2,
2. Wheat - - 140,095 at 11,
3. Barley - 280,193 at 8,
4. Oats - 1,260,362 at 7,
5. Rye - - 500 at 6,
6. Beans and peas 118,000 at 6,
7. Potatoes - 80,000 at 8,
8. Turnips - - 407,125 at 4,
9. Flax - - 16,500 at 8,
10. Gardens - 32,000 at 15,
5,043,450
Amount.
L.4,979,450
1,541,045
2,241,544
8,822,533.
3,000
708,000
640,000
1,628,500
132,000
480,000
Total proprietors in Scotland - 7798
PROPORTION OF SOIL CULTIVATED AND
UNCULTIVATED.
English Acres.
1. Number of acres fully or partially cul¬
tivated - . . . 5,043,050
2. Acres uncultivated, including woods
and plantations - - - 13,900,550
Productive acres 4,824,500 ProduceL.21,176,073
Fallow - 218,950
Total cultivated - 5,043,450, average
/nacre (including fallow), 4/.4s. nearly.
Uncultivated 13,900,550, including wood
lands, 3s. per acre ... 2,085,082
Total land produce L.23,261,155
Total extent of Scotland in English acres 18,943,600
EXTENT OF WOODS AND PLANTATIONS.
English Acres.
1. Extent of plantations - - . 412,226
2.  natural woods - - - 501,469
Total 913,695
NATURE OF THE PRODUCTIVE SOILS IN SCOTLAND.
1. Sandy soils - - -
2. Gravel -
3. Improved mossy soils
4. Cold or inferior clays
5. Rich clays - - -
6. Loams -
7. Alluvial, haugh, or carse land
English Acres.
- 263,771
681,862
411,096
510,265
987,070
1,869,193
320,193
5,043,450
NUMBER OF ACRES IN ONE YEAR UNDER THE
DIFFERENT CROPS, OR IN FALLOW.
Acres.
1. Grass (in hay and pasture) - - 2,489,725
2. Wheat  140,095
2,629,820
LIVE-STOCK, AND THEIR PRODUCE.
1. Horses, 243,489. Value of their work when full
grown, or increase in their work while young,
yearly, at 10/. each - - L.2,434,890
2. Cattle, 1,047,142. Annual value of dai¬
ry produce, and annual increase in
the worth of the feeding cattle, at 6/.
each - 6,282,852
3. Sheep, 2,850,867 - - - 1,425,983
4. Hogs, 500,000, produce 30s. each - 750,000
5. Lesser stock (poultry, &c.) - - 250,000
Total produce of live-stock L.l 1,143,725
This sum is included in the general estimate of land
produce already given.
MINERAL STATE.
Coal.
1. Extent of the great coal-field of
Scotland - - 600,000 acres.
2. Annual consumption - - 172 do.
3. Quantity annually consumed - 2,500,000 tons.
4. Value of the coal annually consum¬
ed, at an average of 6s. 8d. per
ton » - - L.833,333
5. Expense of labour, 5s. lOd. per ton 729,166
6. Rent to the proprietor, lOd. per ton 104,060
5 E 2 Lime is
A ■*
Carry over
SCOTLAND.
772
Scotland.
Lime.
J1. Quantity of lime annually manufactured in Scot¬
land - - - 3,000,000 bolls.
2. Quantity in Winchester bushels, at
4 bushels per boll - - 12,000,000 do.
3. Value at 2s. 6d. per boll - L.375,000
4. Extent of land annually dressed
with lime ... 100,000 acres.
Iron.
1. Number of blast furnaces - 21
2. Quantity annually produced - 32,760 tons.
3. Value at 7/. per ton - - L.229,320
4. Number of persons annually em¬
ployed - 7,650
Lead.
1. Quantity of lead annually produced 65,000 bars.
2. Annual value at 21. per bar ■■ L. 130,000
Value of Mineral Productions.
1. Coal
2. Lime
3. Iron,
4. Lead
5. Various articles
FISHERIES..
1. Salmon and fresh-water fisheries
2. The white-sea fishery
5. The herring fishery
4. The whale fishery
5. Shell fish ...
L.833,333
375,000
229,320
130,000
30,000
L. 1,597,653
L. 150,000
400,000
500,000
- 200,000
50,000
L. 1,300,000
AMOUNT OF TERRITORIAL PRODUCTIONS.
L.23,261,155
1,597,653
1,300,000
1. Gross produce of land
2. Minerals
3. Fisheries
4. The rents of lands, mines, fisheries,
kelp, &c. for one year ending 5th
April 1813
5. Amount of produce absorbed by the
expense of cultivation, and the pro¬
fit of farmers, gardeners, and o-
ther dealers in the productions of
the soil, also by colliers, fisher¬
men, &c.
L.26,158,808.
5,041,779
L.21,117,029
MANUFACTURES OF SCOTLAND.
Value of raw
viaterials.
1. Woollen - 300,000
2. Linen - 834,149
3. Cotton - 1,832,124
4- branches}
Total value of ma¬
nufactured articles.
450,000
1,775,000
6,964,486
Expense of
labour and
proft.
150,000
940,851
5,132,362
5,000,000 3,700,000
COMMERCE.
1. Number of ships belonging to Scotland - 2,708
2. Tonnage - - . 231,273
3. Number of seamen - - 16,300
Scotland.
4. Exports
5. ln?borts
L.4,740,239
3,671,158
6. Ixd&nce in favour of Scotland L. 1,069,081
THE POOR.
36,000
L,3 0 0
1. Number of parochia? poor
2. Average allowance to ea'-U
Total C.vpense L.108,000
Average expense of maintaining the' poor in work-
houses, 8/. 10s.
representation of the landed interesiv
1. Number of representatives - - 30
2. Number of freeholders in the 33 Scotch
counties - - 2,429
3. Number of landholders entitled to vote, if
the whole valued rent of the kingdom
were held by persons each possessing
400/. Scots of valued, rent - - 9,511
borough representation.
1. Number of representatives
2. Number of boroughs
3. Population of ditto
15
• 65
471,417
4,266,273 14,189,486 9,923,213
ECCLESIASTICAL STATE OF SCOTLAND.
1. Number of synods - - - 16
2. Number of presbyteries - - 78
3. Number of parishes - - 893
4. Number of established clergymen • 938
RELIGIOUS PERSUASIONS.
1. Established Presbyterian Church - 1,408,388
2. Seceders (Presbyterians,) - - 256,000
3. Baptists, Bereans, Glassites, Ac. - 50,000
4. Roman Catholics ... 50,000
5. Scotch Episcopalians - - 28,000
6. Methodists - - - 9,000
7. Church of England ... 4,000.
8. Quakers - 300
1,805,688
“ The Scotch (says Dr Playfair) are commonly di-^^
vided into two classes, viz. the Highlanders and Low- anci Cus-
landers; the former occupying the northern and moun-toms,
tainous provinces, the latter the southern districts.
These classes differ from each other in language, man¬
ners, and dress. The Highlanders use the Irish or
Celtic tongue ; while, in the low country, the language
is the ancient Scandinavian dialect blended with the
Anglo-Saxon.
“ About half a century ago, the Highlands of Scot¬
land were in a state somewhat similar to that of Eng¬
land before the Norman conquest. The inhabitants
were divided into tribes called clans. The interior or¬
ders were vassals of particular chiefs, to whom they
were attached, and.on whom they relied for that safety
which the laws were not alone able to ensure to them. On
6
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, the other hand, the security and consequence of a chief-
^^^V^'-'tain depended on the number and fidelity of his servants
and retainers ; who, on account of their relation to him,
assumed a dignity, and acquired in their manners a de¬
gree of politeness, to which other uncivilized nations
are strangers.
“ The rents of farms which those vassals occupied
were inconsiderable, and paid chiefly in military ser¬
vice ; so that the value of a proprietor’s land was esti¬
mated, not by the money it produced, but by the men
whom it could send into the field; and that the number
of dependents might be increased, the farms, or allot¬
ments of land, were small, and barely sufficient for a
scanty subsistence to the tenants. As an inconsiderable
proportion of the country was cultivated, and as no in-
tercoursesubsisted between the inhabitants and other na-
tions, little time was employed in agriculture and com¬
merce. Most ofit was wasted in indolence or amusement,
unless when their superior summoned them to avenge,
on some neighbouring tribe, an insult or injury. No
more grain was raised, and no more raiment manufac¬
tured by any family, than what barely sufficed itself.
“ Villages and hamlets, situated in valleys for shelter,
were rudely constructed of turf and stone. In spring
the natives ploughed, or dug, some adjacent patches of
soil, in which barley or oats were sown ; in summer
they prepared and collected turf and peat for fuel; in
autumn they gathered in their scanty crops of grain
and hay ; and the remainder of the year was devoted to
pastime, or predatory excursions. In winter evenings,
around a common fire, the youth of both sexes general-
iy assembled, for the song, the tale, and the dance. A
tas'^-e for music was prevalent among them. Their vo¬
cal strains were plaintive and melancholy ; their instru¬
mental airs were either lively for the dance, or martial
for the battle. Every family of note retained an histo¬
rian, to narrats its heroic deeds and feats of valour, or
a bard who sung the praises of the chieftain and his
clan. Some fragments of their poetry have been hand¬
ed down from remote ages, and recently moulded into
heroic poems. Strangers, who have ventured to pene¬
trate into their fastnesses, they received and treated in
the most hospitable manner; but themselves seldom
went abroad, except for the nurPoses 0f devastation
or plunder.
“ Their dress was the last remain cf the Roman ha¬
bit in Europe, well suited to the natlire or fhe country
and the necessities of war. It consisted of a lig.ht wool¬
len jacket, a loose garment that covered the thigh, and
a bonnet that was the usual covering for the head all
over Europe, till the hat was introduced towards the
end of tbe J6th century.
“ Always armed with a dirk and pistols, they were
ready to resist an assault, or revenge a provocation, as
soon as it was given. This circumstance contributed to
render them polite and guarded in their behaviour to
one another. When embodied by their chieftain, they
were armed with a broad sword, a dagger, a target, a
musket, and two pistols. In close engagement, and in
broken ranks, they were irresistible. The only foe
they dreaded was cavalry. As soon as the battle was
over, most of the troops dispersed, and returned home
to dispose of their plunder, and to provide lor their
families.
773
Scotland.
. Their religion was deeplyr tinctured with supersti¬
tion. They believed in ghosts and apparitions; by ap-v—
pearances in the heavens they predicted future events
they practised charms and incantations for the cure of
various diseases ; and to some individuals they thought
the Divinity had communicated a portion of his pre¬
science.
But the state of society in the Highlands has been
greatly changed and ameliorated since the rebellions in
1715 and 1745. The Roman dress and the use of arms
were prohibited by government; roads, constructed at
vast expense, opened an easy communication with the
low country ; and the courts of barons were suppressed
by the jurisdiction act. The heads of clans have now
ceased to be pettyr monarchs, and the services their
vassals are no longer requisite for their defence or ag¬
grandisement. Divested of their legal authority, they
now endeavour to preserve their influence by wealth.
With this view their attention is directed to the im¬
provement of their estates. Their ancient mode of liv¬
ing is also entirely altered; and the Highland gentle¬
man, in every respect, dift’ers little from a proprietor of
the like fortune in the southern counties. A spirit of
industry has been excited among the tenants, while in
many places arts and manufactures are encouraged.
“ I he manners, habits, and dress, of the gentlemen
in the low countries, resemble those of their English
neighbours, with whom they have frequent intercourse.
I he peasantry and middle class are sober, industrious,
and good economists ; hospitable and discreet, intelli¬
gent, brave, steady, humane, and benevolent. Their
fidelity to one another is a striking feature in their cha¬
racter. In their mode of living and dress there are
some peculiarities, but these are gradually wearingout.-
W ithin these few years the use of pottage and hsead 1 Pfay-
of oatmeal, is almost disused among the commonalty ;fulr's_
and tea, wheaten bread, and animal food, are as fre-vo1^'
quent on the north as on the south of the Tweed. ” * P' 7,02
Though the diet of the superior classes in Scotland Bust,
differs little from that of the same rank in England,
there are still some peculiarities not generally known to
strangers, which deserve notice. Among the peculiar
Scotch dishes we may enumerate the haggles, a sort of
hash, made of the lungs, heart and liver, of a sheep,
minced fine, and mixed with suet, oatmeal, onions, pep¬
per, and salt, and boiled in the sheep’s maw or sto¬
mach ; hotchpotch, a soup, prepared from mutton or
lamb, cut into small pieces, with, a large quantity of
green peas, carrots, turnips, onions, and sometimes ce¬
lery or parsley, served up to table with the meat and
vegetables in the soup ; cockie-leekie, a soup made of a
Cock or capon, with a large quantity of leeks ; crappit-
head'i t- e. the heads of haddocks stuffed with a pud¬
ding mat!^ of the soft roe, or butter, oatmeal, onions,
and spices, ai?*! boiled ',jish and sauce, a sort of stew,
made of haddocks, whitings, or codlings,, stewed with
parsley, onions, buttei*, and spices ; and the celebrated
old dish of singed sheep’s head, i. e. a sheep’s-head, with
the skin on, and the wool singed off with a hot iron,
well boiled with carrots, turnips, onions, &c. so as to
form a rich broth, which is generally served up dis¬
tinct from the meat. ^
The public amusements in Scotland nearly resemble Amme-
those of England, especially among the higher classes, ments.
There
SCO [ -7
Scotland There are, however, two games which may be coasi-
vScou^al dere(l as peculiar to the Scotch. These are golf and
i - - jcurling. Of the former we have given an account un¬
der tlie article Golf. The diversion of curling, which
is we believe unknown in England, is adapted only to
frosty weather, and is played on the ice, by sliding from
one mark to another, large stones, of from forty to
seventy pounds weight, of a hemispherical shape, very
smooth on the flat side, and furnished with an iron or
wooden handle at top. The great object of the player
is to lay his stone as near to the mark as possible, to
guard that of his partner which had before been placed
in a good position, or to strike off that of his antagonist.
To attain these ends much skill and dexterity are often
required ; and the great art of the game is to make the
stones bend in towards the mark, when this is so block¬
ed up by other stones that they cannot reach it by
being directed in a straight line.
To conclude: The union having incorporated the
two nations of England and Scotland, and rendered
them one people, the distinctions that had subsisted for
many ages are gradually wearing away. Peculiarities
disappear ; similar manners prevail in both parts of the
island; the same authors are read and admired; the
saYne entertainments are frequented by the elegant and
polite ; and the same standard of taste and of language
is established throughout the British empire.
N(”w Scotland. See Nona Scotia.
SCOTO-Irisii, in History, an epithet applied, by
some writers on Scottish antiquities, to the colony of
Irish, commonly called Dalriads or Dalriadinians, who,
in the beginning of the sixth century, established them¬
selves in the district of Galloway; and formed a distinct
tribe, till, under the reign of their king Kenneth II.
they united with the Piets, whom they had nearly sub¬
dued. See Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol. i. and Scot¬
land, from N° 31. to N° 85.
Scoto- Saxon period, is by Mr Chalmers applied
to that period of Scottish history which elapsed from
the accession of Edgar, the son of Malcolm Canmore,
to the throne of Scotland in the year 1097, to the
reign of Robert Bruce in 1306. See Scotland from
N° 86. to N° 164.
SCOTOMIA, in Medicine, a vertigo, accompanied
with dimness of sight, frequently the forerunner of an
apoplexy.
SCOTT, John, an eminent English divine, was
born in 1638, and became minister of St Thomas’s in
Southwark. In 1684 he was collated to a prebend in
the cathedral of St Paul’s. Dr Hickes tells us, that,
after the revolution, •“ he first refused the bishopric of
Chester, because he would not take the oath of ho¬
mage ; and afterwards another bishopric, the deanery
of Worcester, and a prebend of the church of Wind¬
sor, because they were all places of deprived men. ”
He published several excellent works, particularly The
Christian Life, &c. and died in 1695. He was emi¬
nent for his humanity, affability, sincerity, and readi¬
ness to do good ; and his talent for preaching was ex¬
traordinary.
SCOfUS, Duns. See Duns.
Scotus, John. See Erigena.
SCOUGAL, Henry, second son of Patrick Scougal,
bishop of Aberdeen, was born, June 1650, at Salton
- bi East Lothian, where his father, the immediate pre-
74 ] SCO
decessor of Bishop Burnet, wras rector. His father,
designing him for the sacred ministry, watched over his
infant mind with peculiar care ,* nor was his care be¬
stowed in vain. He had soon the satisfaction of per¬
ceiving the most amiable dispositions unfold themselves,
and his understanding rise at once into the vigour of
manhood. Relinquishing the amusements of youth,
young Scougal applied to his studies with ardour ; and,
agreeable to his father’s wish, at an early period he di¬
rected his thoughts to sacred literature. He perused
the historical parts of the Bible with peculiar pleasure,
and then began to examine its contents with the eye
of a philosopher. He was struck with the peculiarities
of the Jewish dispensation, and felt an anxiety to under¬
stand the reason why its rites and ceremonies were
abolished. The nature and evidences of the Christian
religion also occupied his mind. He perused sermons
with pleasure, committing to writing those passages
which most affected him, and could comprehend and
remember their whole scope. Nor was he inattentive
to polite literature. He read the Roman classics, and
made considerable proficiency in the Greek, in the He¬
brew, and other oriental languages. He was also well
versed in history and mathematics. Llis diversions
were of a manly kind. After becoming acquainted
with the Roman history, in concert with some of his
companions he formed a little senate, where orations
of their own composition were delivered.
At the age of fifteen he entered the university, where
he behaved with great modesty, sobriety, and dili¬
gence. He disliked the philosophy then taught, and
applied himself to the study of natural philosophy;
that philosophy which has now happily got such foot¬
ing in the world, and tends to enlarge the faculties. In
consequence of this, we may here observe, that when
he was jmt about eighteen years of age, he wrote the
reflections and short essays since published; which,
though written in his youth, and some of them left un¬
finished, breathe forth so much devotion, and such an
exalted soul, as must convince us his conversation was
in heaven.
In all the public meetings of the students he was
unanimously chosen president, and had a singular de¬
ference paid to his judgment- No sooner had he finish¬
ed his courses, than he was promoted to a professorship
in the university of Aberdeen, where he conscientiously
performed his duty in training up the youth under his
care in such principles of learning and virtue as mig ht
render them ornaments to church and state. When any
divisions and animosities happened in the society, he was
very instrumental in reconciling and bringing them to a
good understanding. He maintained his authority a-
mong the students in such a way as to keep them in
awe, and at the same time to gain their love and esteem.
Sunday evenings were spent wuth his scholars in discour¬
sing against vice and impiety of all kinds, and encoura¬
ging religion in principle and practice. He allotted a
considerable part of his yearly income for the poor; and
many indigent families, of different persuasions, were
relieved in their straits by his bounty ; though so se¬
cretly that they knew' not whence their supply came.
Having been a professor of philosophy for four years,
he was at the age of twenty-three ordained a minister,
and settled at Auchterless, a small village about twen'y
miles from Aberdeen. Here his zeal and ability for his
Sceugal.
great
SCO [7
Scouga1. great Master’s service wore enoinenily displayed. He
catechised with great plainness and alFeetion, and used
the most endearing, methods to recommend religion to
his hearers. He endeavoured to bring them to a close
attendance to public worship, and joined with them
himself at the beginning of it. He revived the use of
lectures, looking on it as very edifying to comment upon
and expound large portions of Scripture. And though
he endured several outward inconveniences, yet he bore
them with patience and meekness. But as God had de¬
signed him for an eminent station, where he could be of
more universal use in his church, he was removed from
his private charge to that of training up youth for che
holy ministry and the care of souls. In the twenty-fifth
year or his age he was admitted professor of divinity in
the king’s college, Aberdeen ; and though he was una¬
nimously chosen, yet he declined a station of such im¬
portance, from a modest sense of his unfitness for it:
And as he had been an ornament to his other stations of
life, so in a particular manner he applied himsglf to the
exercise of this office. After he had guarded his stu¬
dents against the common artifices of the Romish mis¬
sionaries in making proselytes, he proposed two subjects
for public exercises • the one, of the pastoral care; the
other, of casuistical divinity: but there were no debates
be was more cautious to meddle with than the decrees
of God; sensible that secret things belong to God, and
to us things revealed.
The inward dispositions of this excellent man are
best seen in his writings; and the whole of his outward
behaviour and conversation was the constant practice of
what he preached ; as we are assured by the concurring
testimony of several respectable persons who knew him.
How unsuitable then would panegyric be, where the
subject was full of humility ? and therefore let it suffice
to say, that afrer he began to appear publicly,, you see
him as a professor, earnest at once to improve his scho¬
lars in human and sacred learning; as a pastor,he ceased
not to preach the word, to exhort, to reprove, and to
rebuke with all authority: and as a professor of divinity,
he bestowed the utmost pains to convince the candidates
for the ministry, of the weight and importance of that
high office ; that it was not to be followed for lucre,
but purely to promote the worship of God and the sal¬
vation of men. Again, if we consider his private life,
how meek, how charitable, and how self-denied ! how
disinterested in all things, how resigned io the divine
will! and above all, how refined his sentiments with
regard to the love of God ! How amiable must he then
appear ! How worthy of imitation, and of the universal
regret at his death! In this light we see clearly that the
memory of the just is blessed.
At length his health began to be impaired by in¬
cessant study; and about the twenty-seventh year of his
age he fell into a consumption, which wasted him by
slow degrees. But during the whole time of his sick¬
ness he behaved with the utmost resignation, nor did
he ever show the least impatience.
When his friends came to visit him, he would say,
“ he had reason to bless God it was no worse with
him than it was. And (says he) when you have the'
charity to remember me in your prayers, do not think
me a better man than I am; but look on me, as indeed
I am, a miserable sinner. ” Upon the twentieth day of
June 1678 he died, in the greatest calmness, in the
15 ] SCO
twenty-eighth year of his age, and was buried in the Seougal
King’s College church in Old Aberdeen. Theprinei- M
pal work of Scougal is a small treatise intitled, The ftclt>be’
Life of God in the Soul of Man. This book is not only ~ 7
valuable for the sublime spirit of piety which it breathes,
but for the purity and elegance of its style ; qualities
for which few English writers were distinguished before
the revolution.
SCOUTS, in a military sense, are generally horsemen
sent out before, and on the wings of an army, at the di¬
stance of a mile or two, to discover the enemy, and give
the general an account of what they see.
SCR ATCH-Paxs, in the English salt-works, a name
given to certain leaden pans, which are usually made
about a foot and a half long, a foot broad, and three
inches deep, with a bow or circular handle of iron, by
which they may be drawn out with a hook when the
liquor in the pan is boiling. Their use is to receive a
selenitic matter, known by the name of soft scratch)
which falls during the evaporation of the salt-water.
See the article Sea-Salt.
SCREED, with plasterers,is the floated work behind
a cornice, and is onb necessary when a cornice is to be
executed without bracketing.
SCREW, one of the six mechanical powers, is a cy¬
linder cut into several concave surfaces, or rather a chan¬
nel or groove made in a cylinder, by carrying on two
spiral plains the whole length of the screw, in such a
manner that they may be always equally inclined to the
axis of the cylinder in their whole progress, and also
inclined to the base of it in the same angle. See Me¬
chanics, p. 66. N° 131.
Archimedes's ScREtr. See II yduodynamics, N° 328.
Endless or Perpetual Scrrjv, one so fitted in a com¬
pound machine as to turn a dented wheel; so called be¬
cause it may be turned for ever without coming to an-
end. See Mechanics, p, 67. N° 135.
SCRIBE, in Hebrew ISO sepker, is very common in
scripture, and has several significations. It signifies,
, I- A clerk, writer, or secretary. This was a very
considerable employment in the court of the kings of
Judah, in which the Scripture often mentions the se¬
cretaries as the first officers of the crown. Seraiah was
scribe or secretary to King David (2 Sam. viii. 17.).-
Shevah and Shemaiah exercised the same office under
the same prince (2 Sam. xx. 25.). In Solomon’s time
we find Eiihoreph and Ahia secretaries to that prince
(1 Kings iv. 4.); Shebna under Hezekiah (2 Kings
xix. 2.) ; and Shaphan under Josiah (2 Kings xxii. 8.).
As there were but few in those times that could write
well, the employment of a scribe or writer was very con¬
siderable.
2. A scribe is put for a commissary or muster-master
of an army, who makes the review of the troops, keeps
the list or roll, and calls them over. Under the reign
of Uzziah king of Judah, there is found Jeil the scribe
who had under his hand the king’s armies (2 Chron.
xxvi. 11.). And at the time of the captivity, it is said
the captain of the guard, among other considerable per¬
sons, took the principal scribe of the host, or secretary
at war, which mustered the people of the land (2 Kings
xxv. 19.).
8. Scribe is put for an able and skilful man, a doctor
of t he law, a man of learning that understands affairs. .
Jonathan, David’s uncle by the father’s side, was a
. counsellor,
Scribe,
&cribonius.
SCR
counsellor, a wise man, and a scribe (1 Chr. xxvii. 32.).
Baruch, the disciple and secretary to Jeremiah, is call¬
ed a scribe (Jer. xxxvi. 26.). And Ezra is celebrated
as a skilful scribe in the law of his God (Ezra vii. 6.).
The scribes of the people, who are frequently men¬
tioned in the Gospel, were public writers and profess¬
ed doctors of the law, which they read and explained
to the people. Some place the original of scribes un¬
der Moses; but their name does not appear till under
the judges. It is said that, in the wars of Barak against
Sisera, “ out of Machir came down governors, and out
of Zebulun they that handle the pen of the w riter. ”
.(Judges v. 14.). Others think that David first institut¬
ed them, when he established the several classes of the
priests and Levites. The scribes were of the tribe of
Levi; and at the time that David is said to have made
the regulations in that tribe, we read that 6000 men
of them were constituted officers and judges (1 Chr.
xxiii. 4.); among whom it is reasonable to think the
scribes were included. For in 2 Chr. xxiv. 6. we read
of Shemaiah the scribe, one of the Levites; and in
2 Chr. xxxiv. 13. we find it written, “ Of the Levites
that were scribes and officers.”
The scribes and doctors of the lawr, in the scripture
phrase, mean the same thing ; and he that in Mat. xxii.
35. is called a doctor of the laxv, or a laimjer in Mark
xii. 28. is named a scribe, or one of the scribes. And as
the whole religion of the Jews at that time chiefly
consisted in pharisaical traditions, and in the use that
w as made of them to explain the scripture ; the great¬
est number of the doctors of the law, or of the scribes,
were Pharisees; and we almost always find them joined
together in scripture. Each of them valued themselves
upon their knowledge of the law, upon their studying
and teaching it (Mat. xxii. 52.): they had the key of
knowledge, and sat in Moses’s chair (Mat. xxiii. 2.).
Epiphanius, and the author of the Recognitions imput-
ted to St-Clement, reckon the scribes among the sects
of the Jew® *, but it is certain they made no sect by
themselves; -they were only distinguished by their stu¬
dy of the law.
SCRIBONIUS, La rgus, an ancient physician in
the reign of Augustus or Tiberius, was the author of
SCR,
several works ; the best edition of which is that ofScribonin^
John Rhodius. Scrimzeon
SCRIMZEOR or Scrimgeour, Henry,eminent "”—^
restorer of learning, was born at Dundee in the year
1506. He traced his descent from the ancient family
of the Scrimzeours of Didupe or Dudhope, who obtain¬
ed the office of hereditary standard-bearers to the kings
of Scotland in 1057.
At the grammar-school of Dundee our author ac¬
quired the Greek and Latin languages to an uncom¬
mon degree of perfection, and that in a shorter time
than many scholars before him. At the university of
St Andrew’s, his successful application to philosophy
gained him great applause. The next scene of his stu¬
dies wras the university of Paris, and their more parti¬
cular object the civil law. Two of the most famous
civilians of that age, Eguinard Baron and Francis Dua-
ren, (a) were then giving their lectures to crowded cir¬
cles at Bourges. The fame of these professors occa¬
sioned his removal from Paris ; and for a considerable
time he prosecuted his studies under their direction.
At Bourges he had an opportunity of becoming ac¬
quainted with the celebrated James Amiot, Greek pro¬
fessor in that city, well known in the learned world by
his translation of Plutarch’s Lives, and distinguished
afterwards by Ins advancement to great honours in the
church, and finally to the rank of cardinal.
Through the recommendation of this eminent per¬
son, Mr Scrimzeor engaged in the education of two
young gentlemen of the name of Bucherel, whom he
instructed in the belles lettres, and other branches of
literature, calculated to accomplish them for their sta¬
tion in life.
This connexion introduced him to Bernard Borne-
tel bishop of Rennes, a person famed in the political
wmrld for having served the state in many honourable
embassies. Accepting an invitation from this prelate to
accompany him to Italy, Mr Scrimzeor greatly enlarged
the sphere of his literary acquaintance, by his conversa¬
tion and connexion with most of the distinguished scho¬
lars of that country. The death of Francis Spira (b)
happened during his visit to Padua; and as the charac¬
ter and conduct of this remarkable person at that time
engaged
[ 776 ]
(a) “ Trancis Duaren was the first of the French civilians who purged the chair in the civil law schools from
the barbarisms of the Glossaries, in order to introduce the pure sources of the ancient jurisprudence. As he
®lid not desire to share that glory with any one, he looked with an envious eye on the reputation of his col¬
league Eguinard Baron, w ho also mixed good literature w ith the knowledge of the law. This jealousy put him
upon composing a work, wherem he endeavoured to lessen the esteem that people had for his colleague. The
maxim, ‘ Pnscitur in vivis livor; .post fata quiescit, ’ was verified remarkably in him ; for after the death of
Baron, he showed himself most zealous to eternize his memory, and was at the expense of a monument to the
honour of the deceased. ” ' From the Translation of Bayle’s Diet, of 1710, p. 1143-4.
(b) hrancis Spira was a lawyer of. great reputation at Cittadella in the Venetian state, at the beginning of
the 16th century. He had imbibed the principles of the Reformation, and was accused before John de la
Casa, archbishop of Beneyento, the pope’s nuncio at Venice. He made some concessions, and asked pardon
of the papal minister for his errors. But the nuncio insisted on a public recantation. Spira was exceedingly
averse to this measure ; but at the pressing instances df his wife and friends, who represented to him that he
must lose his practice and rum his affairs by persisting against it, he at last complied. Shortly after he fell
into a deep melancholy, lost his health, and was removed to Padua for the advice of physicians and divines ;
ut is disorders augmented. I he recantation, which he said he had made from cowardice and interest, fill-
fV,,S jUn<^ continual horror and remorse ; insomuch that he sometimes imagined that he felt the torments
o letanmed.. ho means being found to restore either his‘health or his peace of mind, in 1548 he fell a
victim to lus miserable situation. See CollyerV Diet—Spira.
SCR [7
Smmzeor. engaged the attention of the world, Mr Scrimzeor is
-v"—said to have collected memoirs of him in a publication
entitled, “ The Life of Francis Spira, by Henry of
Scotland. ” This performance, however, does not ap¬
pear in the catalogue of his works.
After he had stored his mind with the literature of
foreign countries, and satisfied his curiosity as a travel¬
ler, it was his intention to have revisited Scotland. He
might without vanity have entertained hopes, that the
various knowledge which he had treasured up would
have won him a partial reception among his country¬
men. An ambition of being usefully distinguished
among them as a man of letters, is justly supposed the
principal motive of his desire to return : but the most
sanguine projects of life are often strangely diverted
by accident, or rather perhaps are invisibly turned by
Providence from their purposed course. Mr Scrim¬
zeor, on his journey homewards, was to pass through
Geneva. His fame had long forerun his footsteps.
The syndics and other magistrates, on his arrival, re¬
quested him to set up the profession of philosophy in
that city; promising a compensation suitable to the
exertion of his .talents. He accepted the proposal,
and established the philosophical chair.
After he had taught for some time at Geneva, a fire
broke out in his neighbourhood, by which his house
was consumed, and himself reduced to great distress.
His late pupils, the Bucherels, had not forgotten their
obligations to him, and sent a considerable sum of
money to his relief.
At this time flourished at Augsburg that famous
mercantile family the Fuggers. Ulric Fugger was
then its representative ; a man possessed of prodigious
wealth, passionately fond of literature, a great col¬
lector of books and manuscripts, and a munificent pa¬
tron of learned men. Being informed, by means of
his literary correspondence, of the misfortune which
had befallen Mr Scrimzeor in the burning of his house,
he immediately sent him a pressing invitation to ac¬
cept an asylum beneath his roof till his affairs could
be re-established. Mr Scrimzeor, gladly availing him¬
self of such a hospitable kindness, lost no time in go¬
ing to Germany.
Whilst residing at Augsburg with Mr Fugger, he
was much employed in augmenting his patron’s library,
by vast collections purchased from every corner of Eu¬
rope. Manuscripts of the Greek and Latin authors were
then of inestimable value, and seem to have been more
particularly the object of Mr Scrimzeor’s researches.
He did not lead a life of yawning indolence amidst
these treasures, and, like a mere unfeeling collector,
leave them unenjoyed. As librarian, he Avas not con¬
tented to act the part of a black eunuch to his literary
seraglio. Fie seems to have forgotten that he was not
its Grand Sultan, and accordingly ranged at will
among surrounding beauties. He composed many
works of great learning and ingenuity, whilst he con¬
tinued in a situation so peculiarly agreeable to the
view© and habits of a scholar.
When his manuscripts were ready for the press, he
was desirous of returning to Geneva to print them.
His patron, Fugger, recommended him for this pur¬
pose to the very learned Henry Stephens, one of his
pensioners, and at that time one of the most celebrated
printers in Europe.
Von. XVIII. Part II.
■77 ] SCR
Immediately on his arrival at Geneva, 1563, he was Scrimzeor.
earnestly solicited by the magistrates to resume the '""•""•v "'■*
chair of philosophy. Notwithstanding his compliance,
and, in consequence of it, the dedication of much of his
time to the study of physics, he, two years afterwai’ds,
instituted a course of lectures in the civil law, and had
the honour of being its first founder and professor at
Geneva.
As soon as he was settled again in this city, he
hoped, amidst his other occupations, to prosecute the
great object of his literary fame, the printing of his
various works. But a suspicion which Flenry Stephens
entertained, that it was his intention to set up a rival
press at Geneva, occasioned great dissensions between
them. The result of the quarrel was, that the republic
of letters, during Mr Scrimzeor’s life, was deprived of
his valuable productions. They fell most of them at
his death into the hands of Isaac Casaubon. who has
been accused of publishing considerable portions of
them as his own.
Some account of Mr Scrimzeor’s several perform¬
ances will give an idea of his extensive erudition.
He wrote critical and explanatory notes upon Athe-
nseus’s Deipnosophists, or Table Conversations of Phi¬
losophers and Learned Men of Antiquity; having first
collated several manuscripts of his author. This work
Casaubon published at Leyden in 1600; but without
distinguishing his own notes from those of Scrimzeor.
A Commentary and Emendations of the Geography
of Strabo were among our author’s literary remains.
These were published in Casaubon’s Parisian edition of
Strabo, 1620. Henry Stephens, from an idea of jus¬
tice due to Scrimzeor’s literary fame, notwithstanding
the violent animosity which had subsisted betwixt them,
reproaches Casaubon for adopting our Scottish critic’s
lucubrations on Strabo without acknowledgment.—
Dempster assures us, that Scrimzeor, in his manuscript
letters, mentions his design of publishing this perform¬
ance ; whence, it is probable, that his work appeared
to himself of considerable consequence, and had taken
up much of his attention. Although Casaubon, in his
ample notes exhibited at the foot of Strabo’s text,
makes no confession of having derived any thing from
Scrimzeor, it must not be concealed, that in an epistle
to Sir Peter Young, our critic’s nephew, through whom
the Commentary and Emendations of Strabo came into
his hands, Casaubon acknowledges how very useful to
him they might be made ; for, speaking there of his in¬
tended edition of Strabo, he says, “ It cannot be ex¬
pressed how much assistance I may obtain from your
notes of Scrimzeor. ”
Edward Flerrison, a Scottish author, in his Commen¬
tary on Plutarch’s Book concerning the Inconsistencies
of the Stoics, informs us, that Scrimzeor collated dif¬
ferent manuscripts of all the works of Plutarch. This
undertaking appears sufficient to have occupied half the
life of an ordinary critic. Every one knows how vo¬
luminous an author was the philosopher, the historian,
and orator of Chaeronea. Whether our learned critic
had meant to publish an edition of Plutarch’s works is
not known; but such an intention seems highly pro¬
bable from this laborious enterprise of collating them.
The 10 books of Diogenes Laertius on the Lives,
Opinions, and Apophthegms of the Philosophers, were
collated from various manuscripts by Scrimzeor. His
f 5 F
ns
SCRIPTURE.
Scrimzeor. 'corrected text of this author, with notes full of erudi-
Scnpture. came a]so int0 Casaubon’s possession, and is sup-
posed to have contributed much to the value of his
7 edition of the Grecian Biographer, printed at Paris in
1593.
The works of Phornutus and Palaephatus Were also
among the collations of Mr Scrimzeor. To the latter
of these authors he made such considerable additions}
that the work became partly his own. These were two
ancient authors who explain the fables of the heathen
deities. The former wrote De Natura Deorum sen de
Fabularwn Poeticarum Allegoriis Speculatio, “ On the
Nature of the Gods, or the Allegorical Fictions of the
Poets. ” The latter entitled his book Akito, Sive de
Jhlsis Narrationibus, “ Things incredible, or concerning
false Relations. ” These works were printed at Basil,
1570 ; whether in Greek or Latin is uncertain. They
have been published since in both languages.
The manuscripts of them were for some time pre¬
served in the library of Sir Peter Young, after that of
his uncle Scrimzeor, which was brought into Scotland in
1573, had been added to it. What became of this valu¬
able bequest at the death of the former, is uncertain.
Our learned philologer also left behind him in ma¬
nuscript the orations of Demosthenes, TEschines, and
Cicero, and the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius,
all carefully collated.
Among his literary remains was a collection of his
Latin epistles. The men of letters in the 15th and 16th
centuries seem to have kept their republic, as it is
called, more united and compact than it is at present,
by an epistolary intercourse in the Latin language, then
the universal medium of literature and science. This
general spirit of communication could not but contri¬
bute greatly to the advancement of learning, as well as
to the pleasure, and, we may add, to the importance, of
those who were engaged in its pursuit. The intercourse
and union of enlightened men, able and disposed to pro¬
mote the happiness of their fellow-creatures, cannot be
too close. From such intellectual combination alone
it is, that uniformity of religious, moral, and political
principles, to its greatest attainable degree, can ever
be expected ; or, in other words, the greatest possible
benefit derived from the cultivation of letters.
Of the many performances which had exercised his
pen, it does not appear that any were immediately pub¬
lished by himself but his Translation of Justinian’s No¬
vels into Greek. This was printed at Paris in 1558,
and again with Ploloander’s Latin version at Antwerp
in 1575. This work has been highly extolled, both
for the purity of its language and the accuracy of its
execution, and is likely, according to some respectable
opinions, to hold its estimation as long as any use or
memory of the civil law shall exist.
A Latin translation of the Basilica, or Basilics, as
they are called by our civilians, is the last we have to
mention of this author’s performances. This is a col¬
lection of Roman laws, which the eastern emperors
Basil and Leo, who reigned in the fifth century, com¬
manded to be translated into Greek, and which pre¬
served their authority till the dissolution of the eastern
empire. The Basilics comprehend the institutes, di¬
gests, code, and novels, and some of the edicts of
Justinian and other emperors. Of 60 original books,
41 only remain. Mr Scrimzeor collated them with
various manuscripts, probably before he commenced
his translation.
From the foregoing recital of the learned labours of
this profound scholar and critic, it will be concluded,
that almost the whole of his life, although long, was
spent in his library; and that the biographer, having
now terminated the catalogue of his writings, is pro¬
bably not distant from the conclusion of his life. Dif¬
ferent years have been assigned for the time of his
death ; but it appears most likely, from a comparison
of the different accounts of this event, that it hap¬
pened very near the expiration of 1571, or at the be¬
ginning of the succeeding year, about the 66th year of
his age. He died in the city of Geneva.
The characteristic features of Scrimzeor are few, but
they are prominent and striking; and remote posterity
may regard him with no inferior degree of respect.
His industry and perseverance in the pursuit of know¬
ledge and erudition, were equalled only by the exqui¬
site judgment which he displayed in his critical anno¬
tations and commentaries on the errors and obscurities
of ancient books and manuscripts.
His acquisitions in the Greek, Latin, and oriental
languages, were reckoned much beyond those of most
of the professed linguists of his time. The great Cu-
jacius used to say, “ That he never quitted Mr Scrim-
zeor’s conversation without having learned something
new. ” But that which gave peculiar grace to such
superiority, was the amiable modesty which on all
occasions was observed to accompany it. From the
commendation given him by the illustrious civilian
just mentioned, it will be concluded, that he did not
brood, with a jealous reserve, over unlocked treasures
of erudition ; but that, conscious of possessing stores
too ample to be soon exhausted, at the same time that
he avoided an ostentatious profusion of them, he
obliged and delighted his friends by a liberal commu¬
nication. From the period at which he lived, con¬
sidered with the nature and extent of his studies,
and his abilities in prosecuting them, he may be de¬
servedly ranked among those eminent characters who
have most successfully contributed their exertions to
the revival of letters in Europe.
Serirozeer.
Scripture.
SCRIPTURE.
1
of the'oid SCRIPTU1REis a Ay°.r^ derived from the Latin scrip- Old and New Testaments ; which are sometimes called
and New . ^ura\ and m its original sense is of the same import the Scriptures, sometimes the sacred or holy Scriptures,
Testa- wit \ 'writing, signifying, “ any thing written. ” It is, and sometimes /Sc/vWttre. These books are
swnts. lo.tever, commonly used to denote the writings of the called the Scriptures by way of eminence, as they are
the
SCRIP1]
^Scnpture. ^0 most important of all writings ; they are said to be
* ” ' holi) or sacred on account of the sacred doctrines which
they teach ; and they are termed canonical, because
when their number and authenticity were ascertained,
their names were inserted in ecclesiastical canons, to
distinguish them from other books; which, being of
no authority, were kept as it were out of sight, and
2 therefore styled apocryphal (a).
The au- The authenticity of the Old Testament may be pro-
thenticity ve(j fr0m the character of the Jews, from internal evi-
Teslament dence, and from testimony.
proved 1* The character of the Jews aliords a strong pre-
3 sumptive evidence that they have not forged or cor-
from the rupted the Old Testament. Were a person brought
the^ews before a court of justice on suspicion of forgery, and
yet no presumptive or positive evidence of his guilt
could be produced, it would be allowed by all that he
ought to be acquitted. But farther, if the forgery
alleged were inconsistent with the character of the ac¬
cused ; if it tended to expose to disgrace and reproach
his general principles and conduct; or if we were as¬
sured that he considered forgery as an impious and
abominable crime—it would require very strong testi¬
mony to establish his guilt. The case now mention¬
ed corresponds exactly with the character and situa¬
tion of the Jews. If a Jew had forged any book of
the Old Testament, he must have been impelled to so
bold and dangerous an enterprise by some very power¬
ful motive. It could not be national pride, for there
is scarcely one of these books which does not severe¬
ly censure the national manners. It could not be the
love of fame; for that passion would have taught him
to flatter and extol the national character ; and the
punishment, if detected, would have been infamy and
death. The love of wealth could not produce such a
forgery; for no wealth was to be gained.
The Jews were selected from among the other na¬
tions of the world, and preserved a distinct people
from the time of their emigration from Egypt to the
Babylonish captivity, a period of 892 years. The
principal purposes for which they were selected, was to
preserve in a world running headlong into idolatry the
knowledge and worship of the one true God, and to
be the guardians of those sacred books that contained
the prophecies which were to prove to future ages the
divine mission of the Redeemer of mankind. I o fit
them for these important trusts, the spirit of their
laws and the rites of their religion had the strongest
tendency. Miracles were openly performed, to con¬
vince them that the God of Israel was the God of all
the earth, and that he alone was to be worshipped.
Public calamities always befel them when they became
apostates to their God ; yet they continued violently
attached to idolatry till their captivity in Babylon made
them for ever renounce it.
The Jews then had two opposite characters at dif¬
ferent periods of their history : at first they were ad¬
dicted to idolatry ; afterwards they acquired a strong
antipathy against it.
Had any books of the Old Testament been forged
before the Babylonish captivity, when the Jews were
U R E. 779
devoted to idolatry, is it to be conceived that the im- Scripture,
postor would have inveighed so strongly against this—y*—J
vice, and so often imputed to it the calamities of the
state ; since by such conduct he knew that he would
render himself obnoxious to the people and to those
idolatrous monarchs who persecuted the prophets ?
But it may next be supposed, that “ the sacred
books were forged after the Babylonish captivity, when
the principles of the Jews would lead them to inveigh
against the worship of idols. ” But these principles
would surely never lead them to expose the character
of their ancestors, and to detail their follies and their
crimes. Never had any people more national pride,
or a higher veneration for their ancestors, than the
Jews. Miracles and prophecies ceased soon after
their return to Jerusalem; and from that period their
respect for the sacred books approached to supersti¬
tion. They preserved them with pious care, they
read them often in their synagogues, and they consi¬
dered every attempt to alter the text as an act of sa¬
crilege. Is it possible that such men could be guilty
of forgery, or could false writings be easily imposed
on them ? 4
2. There is an internal evidence in the books of the from inter-
Old Testament that proves them to have been written nal evi-
by different persons, and at distant periods; and en~dence‘aiul
aides us with precision to ascertain a time at or before
which they must have been composed. It is an unde¬
niable fact that Hebrew ceased to be the living lan¬
guage of the Jews during the Babylonish captivity,
and that the Jewish productions after that period were
in general written either in Chaldee or in Greek. The Marsh on
Jews of Palestine, some ages before the coming o£ our the aathen-
Saviour, were unable, without the assistance of
Chaldee paraphrase, to understand the Hebrew origi’ books'of
nal. It necessarily follows, therefore, that every book Moses.
which is written in pure Hebrew was composed either
before or about the time of the Babylonish captivity.
This being admitted, we may advance a step farther,
and contend that the period which elapsed between
the composition of the most ancient and the most mo¬
dern books of the Old Testament was very consider^
able ; or, in other words, that the most ancient books
of the Old Testament were written many ages before
the Babylonish captivity.
No language continues stationary ; and the Hebrew,
like other tongues, passed through the several stages
of infancy, youth, manhood, and old age. It there¬
fore, on comparison, the several parts of the Hebrew
Bible are found to differ not only in regard to style,
but also in regard to character and cultivation, we
have strong internal marks that they were composed
at different and distant periods. No classical scholar
would believe, independent of the Grecian history,
that the poems ascribed to Homer were written in the
age of Demosthenes, the Orations of Demosthenes in
the time of Origen, or the Commentaries of Origen
in the time of Lascaris and Chrysoloras. hor the
very same reason, it is certain that the five books which
are ascribed to Moses were not written in the time of
David, the Psalms of David in the age of Isaiah, nor
5 F 2 the
(a) From ciTrox-^vTrl#, to put out of sight) or conceal.
780
Scripture,
5
from testi
tnony.
• Ecclesi-
asticus,
xlviii. 22.
f xlix. 6.
| xlix. 8.
§ xlix. 10.
SCRIP
the prophecies of Isaiah in the time of Malachi; and
since the Hebrew became a dead language about the
time of the Babylonish captivity, the book of Mala¬
chi could not have been written much later. Before
that period therefore were written the prophecies of
Isaiah, still earlier the Psalms of David, and much
earlier than these the books which are ascribed to
Moses.
3. Let us now consider the evidence of testimony
for the authenticity of the Old Testament. As the
Jews were a more ancient people than the Greeks or
Homans, and for many ages totally unconnected with
them, it is not to be expected that we should derive
much evidence from the historians of those nations : it
is to the Jews alone wre must look for information. But
it has unfortunately happened that few of their works
except the Scriptures themselves have been preserved
to posterity. Josephus is the most ancient of the Jew¬
ish historians to whom we can appeal. Pie informs us,
that the Old Testament was divided into three parts,
the Law, the Prophets, and the Hagiographa or po¬
etical books. No man, says he, hath ever dared to
add or take away from them. He tells us also, that
other books were written after the time of Artaxerxes ;
but as they were not composed by prophets, they were
not reckoned worthy of the same credit.
Since the promulgation of the Christian religion, it
is impossible that any material alterations or corrup¬
tions could have taken place in the books of the Old
Testament; for they have been in the hands both of
Jews and Christians from that period. Had the Jews
attempted to make any alterations, the Christians would
have detected and exposed them ; nor would the Jews
have been less severe against the Christians if they had
corrupted the sacred text. But the copies in the hands
of Jews and Christians agree; and therefore we justly
conclude, that the Old Testament is still pure and un¬
corrupted.
The division mentioned by our Saviour into the Lawr,
the Prophets, and the Psalms, corresponds with that of
Josephus. We have therefore sufficient evidence, it is
hoped, to convince even a deist, that the Old Testament
existed at that time. And if the deist will only allow,
that Jesus Christ was a personage of a virtuous and ir¬
reproachable character, he will acknowledge that we
draw a fair conclusion when we assert that the Scrip¬
tures were not corrupted in his time : for when he ac¬
cused the Pharisees of making the law of no effect by
their traditions, and when he injoined his hearers to
search the Scriptures, he could not have failed to men¬
tion the corruptions or forgeries of Scripture, if any in
that age had existed. But we are assured, by very re¬
spectable authority, that the canon of the Old Testa¬
ment was fixed some centuries before the birth of Jesus
Christ. Jesus the son of Sirach, the author of Eccle-
siasticus, makes evident references to the prophecies of
Isaiah, * Jeremiah, f and Ezekiel, j: and mentions these
prophets by name. He speaks also of the twelve minor
prophets. § It appears also from the prologue, that
the law and the prophets, and other ancient books, ex¬
isted at the same period. The book of Ecclesiasticus,
according to the calculations of the best chronologers,
was written in Syriac about A. M. 3772, that is, 232
years before the Christian era, and was translated into
Greek in the next century by the grandson of the au-
T U R E.
thor. The prologue was added by the translator: but Scripture,
this circumstance does not diminish the evidence for ~v—""*A
the antiquity of Scripture; for he informs us, that the
law and the prophets, and the other books of their fa¬
thers, were studied by his grandfather : a sufficient
proof that they existed in his time. As no authentic
books of a more ancient date, 'except the sacred writ¬
ings themselves, have reached our time, we can ascend
no higher in search of testimony.
There is, however, one remarkable historical fact,
which proves the existence of the law of Moses at the
dissolution of the kingdom of Israel, when the ten tribes
were carried captive to Assyria by Shalmaneser, and
dispersed among the provinces of that extensive em¬
pire ; that is, about 741 years before Christ. It was
about that time the Samaritans were transported from
Assyria to repeople the country which the ten cap¬
tive tribes of Israel had formerly inhabited. The pos¬
terity of the Samaritans still inhabit the land of their
fathers, and have preserved copies of the Pentateuch,
two or three of which were brought to this country in
the seventeenth century. The Samaritan Pentateuch
is written in old Hebrew characters (see Philology,
N° 28.), and therefore must have existed before the
time of Ezra. But so violent were the animosities
which subsisted between the Jews and Samaritans,
that in no period of their history would the one na¬
tion have received any books from the other. They
must therefore have received them at their first settle¬
ment in Samaria from the captive priest whom the
Assyrian monarch sent to teach them how they should
fear the Lord (2 Kings xvii.) g
The canon of the Old Testament, as both Jewish The canon
and Christian writers agree, was completed by Ezra^e^tI^|^
and some of his immediate successors (see Bible). Insettie(j.
our copies the sacred books are divided into 39. The
Jews reckoned only 22, corresponding to the number
of letters in the Hebrew alphabet. They united the
books of Judges and Ruth ; they joined the two books
of Samuel; the books of Kings and Chronicles were
reckoned one ; Ezra and Nehemiah one; the Prophe¬
cies and Lamentations of Jeremiah were taken under
the same head ; and the 12 minor prophets were con¬
sidered as one book—so that the whole number of
books in the Jewish canon amounted to 22. 7
The Pentateuch consists of the five books, Genesis, The Pen-
Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. Se-tateuch
veral observations have been already made respectingwr*tten by
the authenticity of these, under the article Penta-1'10565’
teuch; bat several additional remarks have occurred,
which may not improperly be given in this place. For
many of these we acknowledge ourselves indebted to
a sermon published by the reverend Mr Marsh, whose
research, learning, and critical accuracy, will be ac¬
knowledged by every reader of discernment.
One of the strongest arguments that have occurred
to us in support of the authenticity of the Pentateuch,
and the inspiration of the writer, lias already been gi¬
ven under the article Religion, N0 14, &c.; which
see. But we shall in this place present two arguments
of a different kind, which would be sufficient to
prove at least the former of these conclusions. We
argue from the language and contents of the Mosaic
v/ritings, and from the testimony of the other books of
Scripture.
From
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture. From the contents and language of the Pentateuch
v—-1 there arises a very strong presumption that Moses was
8 its author. The very mode of writing in the four last
Internal ^ hooks discovers an author contemporary with the events
evidence, which he relates ; every description, both religious and
political, is a proof that the writer was present at each
respective scene; that the legislative and historical parts
are so interwoven with each other, that neither of them
could have been written by a man who lived in a later
age. The account which is given in the book of Ex¬
odus of the conduct of Pharaoh towards the children of
Marsh. Israel, is such as might have been expected from a wri¬
ter who was not only acquainted with the country at
large, but had frequent access to the court of its sove¬
reign : and the minute geographical description of the
passage through Arabia is such, as could have been gi¬
ven only by a man like Moses, who had spent 40 years
in the land of Midian. The language itself is a proof
of its high antiquity, which appears partly from the
great simplicity of the style, and partly from the use of
archaisms or antiquated expressions, which in the days
even of David and Solomon were obsolete, (b) But
the strongest argument that can be pi*oduced to show
that the Pentateuch was written by a man born and
educated in Egypt, is the use of Egyptian words ; words
which never were, and never could have been, used by
a native of Palestine : and it is a remarkable circum¬
stance, that the very same thing which Moses had ex¬
pressed by a word that is pure Egyptian, Isaiah, as
might be expected from his birth and education, has
9 expressed by a word that is purely Hebrew, (c)
and by tes- That Moses was the author of the Pentateuch is pro-
timony. ve(j a}go from the evidence of testimony. We do not
here quote the authority of Diodorus Siculus, of Lon¬
ginus, or Strabo, because their information must have
been derived from the Jews. We shall seek no autho¬
rity but that of the succeeding sacred books themselves,
which bear internal evidence that they were written in
different ages, and therefore could not be forged, unless
we were to adopt the absurd opinion that there was a
succession of impostors among the Jews who united in
the same fraud. The Jews were certainly best qualified
to judge of the authenticity of their own books. They
could judge of the truth of the facts recorded, and they
could have no interest in adopting a forgery. Indeed,
to suppose a whole nation combined in committing a
forgery, and that this combination should continue for
many hundred years, would be the most chimerical sup¬
position that ever entered into the mind of man. Yet
we must make this supposition, if we reject the histori¬
cal facts of the Old Testament. No one will deny that
the Pentateuch existed in the time of Christ and his
apostles ; for they not only mention it, but quote it.
“ This we admit, ” reply the advocates for the hypo-
tliesis which we are now combating ; “ but you cannot
781
therefore conclude thatMoseswas the author; for there Scripture,
is reason to believe it was composed by Ezra. ” But “v*—
unfortunately for men of this opinion, both Ezra and
Nehemiah ascribe the book of the law to Moses. ** Ezra Hi.
2. The Pentateuch was in the possession of the Samari-^TV’U1, 14*
tans before the time of Ezra. S. It existed in thex;jj. j.'
reign of Amaziah king of Judah, A. C. 839 years, f f 2 Chron.
4. It was in public use in the reign of Jehosaphat,xxv;.'i-
A. C. 912; for that virtuous prince appointed Levites^v^’S3
and priests who taught in Judah, and had the book of
the law of the Losd with them, and went about
throughout all the cities of Judah and taught the
people, j: 5. It is referred to by David in his djungf 2 Chron.
admonitions to Solomon. § The same royal bard makes*™-9-
many allusions to it in the book of Psalms, and some-^r r> Ul!gs
times quotes it.* There remains therefore only one* Comp,
resource to those who contend that Moses was not the Psalm ciif.
author, viz. that it was written in the period which
elapsed between the age of Joshua and that of David.xx^jv 'c
But the whole history of the Jews from their settle-in the ori-
ment in Canaan to the building of the temple presup-ginal,
poses that the book of the law was written by Moses.
6. We have satisfactory evidence that it existed in the^°rVgry *
time of Joshua. One passage may be quoted where thisSame. J
fact is stated. The Divine Being makes use of these
words to Joshua : “ Only be thou strong, and very
courageous, that thou mayest observe to do all accord¬
ing to the lettu which Moses my servant commanded
thee ; turn not from it to the right hand or to the left,
that thou mayest prosper whithersoever thou goest.
J'his hook of the law shall not depart out of thy mouth ;
but thou shalt meditate therein day and night, thatt Joshuf..
thou mayest observe to do according to all that
written therein. ” -]• io
To the foregoing demonstration objections may be General
stated. “ We will admit the force of your arguments,ofijecuons
and grant that Moses actually wrote a work called theans"cre
book of the law : but how can we be certain that it
was the very work which is now current under his
name ? And unless you can show this to be at least
probable, your whole evidence is of no value. ” To il¬
lustrate the force or weakness of this objection, let us
apply it to some ancient Greek author, and see whether
a classical scholar would allow it to have weight. “ It
is true that the Greek writers speak of Homer as an
ancient and celebrated poet; it is true also, that they
have quoted from the works which they ascribe to him
various passages that we find at present in the Iliad and
Odyssey : yet still there is a possibility that the poems
which were written by Homer, and those which we call
the Iliad md Odyssey, were totally distinct productions. ”
Now, an advocate for Greek literature would reply to
this objection, not with a serious answer, but with a
smile of contempt; and he would think it beneath his
dignity to silence an opponent who appeared to be deaf
(b) For instance, JOfr Me, and yuer, which are used in both genders by no other writer than Moses.
See Gen. xxiv. 14. 16. 28. 55. 57. xxxviii. 21. 25. _ . r
(c) For instance, “inx (perhaps written originally snx, and the ' lengthened into I by mistake), written by
the Seventy or Gen. xli. 2. and n^D, written by the Seventy or See La Croze Lexicon
JEgyptiacum, art. AXI and ©HBI.
The same thing which Moses expresses by 7rrx, Gen. xli. 2. Isaiah xix. 7- expresses by npy, for the Seventy
have translated both of these words by
782
SCRIPTURE.
Scripture, to the clearest conviction. But still more may be said
“““'V'——’ in defence of Moses than in defence of Homer ; for the
writings of the latter were not deposited in any temple
or sacred archive, in order to secure them from the de¬
vastations of time; whereas the copy of the book of
the law, as written bj' Moses, was intrusted to the priests
and the elders, preserved in the ark of the covenant,
and read to the people every seventh year, (d) Sufficient
care therefore was taken not only for the preservation of
the original record, but that no spurious production
should be substituted in its stead. And that no spurious
production ever has been substituted in the stead of the
original.composition of Moses, appears from the evidence
nook of the Greek and the Samaritan Pentateuch. For
as these agree with the Hebrew, except in some trifling
variations (e), to which every work is exposed by
length of time, it is absolutely certain that the five
books which we now ascribe to Moses are one and the
same work with that which was translated into Greek
in the time of the Ptolemies, and, what is of still great¬
er importance, with that which existed in the time of
Solomon. And as the Jews could have had no mo¬
tive whatever, during that period which elapsed be¬
tween the age of Joshua and that of Solomon, for sub¬
stituting a spurious production instead of the original
as written by Moses, and, even had they been inclined
to attempt the imposture, would have been prevented
by the care which had been taken by their lawgiver,
we must conclude that our present Pentateuch is the
very identical work that was delivered by Moses.
The positive evidence being now produced, we shall
endeavour to answer some particular objections that have
been urged. But as most of these occur in the book of
Genesis, we shall reserve them for separate examination,
and shall here only consider the objections peculiar to
the last four books. They may be comprised under
one head, viz. expressions and passages in these books
which could not have been written by Moses. 1. The
account of the death of Moses, in the last chapter of
Deuteronomjr, we allow must have been added by some
succeeding writer ; but this can never prove that the
book of Deuteronomy is spurious. What is more com¬
mon among ourselves than to see an account of the life
and death of an author subjoined to his works, without
11
Particular
objections
obviated.
informing us by whom the narrative was written ? 2. It Scripture,
has been objected, that Moses always speaks of himself
in the third person. This is the objection of foolish
ignorance, and therefore scarcely deserves an answer.
We suspect that such persons have never read the clas¬
sics, particular!}^ Caesar’s Commentaries, where the au¬
thor uniformly speaks of himself in the third person, as
every writer of correct taste will do who reflects on the
absurdity of employing the pronoun of the first person
in a work intended to be read long after his death. (See
Grammar, N° 33.) 3. As to the objection, that in
some places the text is defective, as in Exodus xv. 8. it
is not directed against the author, but against some tran¬
scriber ; for what is wanting in the Hebrew is inserted
in the Samaritan. 4*. The only other objection that de¬
serves notice is made from two passages. It is said in
one place that the bed of Og is at Ramah to this day ;
and in another (Deut iii. 14.), “ Jair the son of Ma-
nasseh took all the country of Argob unto the coasts
of Geshuri and Maacathi, and called them after his
own name, Bashan-havoth-jair, unto this day. ” The
last clause in both these passages could not have been
written by Moses, but it was probably placed in the
margin by some transcriber by way of explanation, and
was afterwards by mistake inserted in the text. Who¬
ever doubts the truth of this assertion, may have re¬
course to the manuscripts of the Greek Testament,
and he will find that the spurious additions in the texts
of some manuscripts are actually written in the margin
of others, (f)
That the Pentateuch, therefore, at least the last four
books of it, was written by Moses, we have very satis¬
factory evidence ; which, indeed, at the distance of
3000 years is wonderful, and which cannot be af¬
firmed of any profane history written at a much later
period. #
The book of Genesis was evidently not written by a Authenti-
person who was contemporary with the facts which he city of the
records ; for it contains the history of 2369 years, abook
period comprehending almost twice as many years as all Genesis‘
the rest of the historical books of the Old Testament put
together. Moses has been acknowledged the author of
this book by all the ancient Jews and Christians ; but it
has been matter of dispute from what source he derived
his
(n) “ And Moses wrote this law, and delivered it unto the priests the sons of Levi, which bare the ark of the
covenant ot the Lord, and unto all the elders of Israel. And Moses commanded them, saying, At the end of
every seven years, in the solemnity of the year of release, in the feast of tabernacles, when all Israel is come to
appear before the Lord thy God, in the place wfiiich he shall choose, thou shalt read this law before all Israel
in their hearing. And it came to pass, when Moses had made an end of writing the words of this law in a book
until they were finished, that Moses commanded the Levites, which bare the ark of the covenant of the Lord,
saying, lake this book of the law, and put it in the side of the ark of the covenant of the Lord your God. ”
Deut. xxxi. 9—11. 24—26. There is a passage to the same purpose in Josephus : AijAsfT-an avxx.iiy.iyuv
iv tu y^ayyaiov, Josephi Antiquitat. lib. v. c. 1. $ 17. ed. Hudson.
(e) See the collation of the Hebrew and Samaritan Pentateuch, in the 6th vol. of the London Polyglot, p. 19.
of the Animadvcrsiones Samariticce.
(f) lo mention only two examples. 1. The common reading, 1 Cor. xvi. 2. is ytxv c-aS/Saruv: but the Codex
Petavian. 3. has H.v£txx.viv in the margin ; and in one of the manuscripts which Beza used, this marginal ad¬
dition has been obtruded in the text: See his note on this passage. 2. Another instance is, 1 John ii. 27.
wnere the genuine reading is ; but Wetstein quotes two manuscripts, in which Ttvivya is written in the
margin ; and this marginal reading has found its way not only into the Codex Covelli 2. but into the Coptic
and Ethiopic versions.
SCRIP
Scripture. JiJs materials; some affirming that all the facts were
v revealed by inspiration, and others maintaining that he
procured them from tradition.
Some who have looked on themselves as profound
philosophers, have rejected many parts of the book of
Genesis as fabulous and absurd: but it cannot be the
wisdom of philosophy, but the vanity of ignorance,
that could lead to such an opinion. In fact, the book
of Genesis affords a key to many difficulties in philoso¬
phy which cannot otherwise be explained. It has been
supposed that the diversities among mankind prove that
they are not descended from one pair; but it has been
fully shown that all these diversities may be accounted
for from natural causes. It has been reckoned a great
difficulty to explain how fossil shells were introduced
into the bowels of the earth; but the deluge explains
this fact better than all the romantic theories of philo¬
sophers. It is impossible to account for the origin of
such a variety of languages in a more satisfactory man¬
ner than is done in the account of the confusion of
tongues which took place at Babel. It would be no
easy matter to show why the sea of Sodom is so different
from every other sea on the globe which has yet been
explored, if we had not possessed the scriptural account
of the miraculous destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.
It is saturated with bitumen and salt, and contains no
fishes. These are very singular facts, which have been
fully established by late travellers. The book of Ge¬
nesis, too, has been treated with contempt, because it
makes the world less ancient than is necessary to sup¬
port the theories of modern philosophers, and because it
is difficult to reconcile the chronologies of several na¬
tions with the opinion that the world is not above 6000
or 7000 years old. The Chaldeans, in the time of Ci¬
cero, reckoned up 470,000 years. The Egyptians pre¬
tend that they have records extending 50,000 years
back ; and the Hindoos go beyond all bounds of pro¬
bability, carrying back their chronology, according to
1.5 Haihed, more than 7,000,000 of years.
Mosaic An attempt has been made by the unfortunate M.
rhronolbgy Bailly, once mayor of Paris, to reconcile these magnified
un icated. caicu]atjons w|th the chronology of the Septuagint,
which is justly preferred to the Hebrew. (See Septu¬
agint). He informs us, that the Hindoos, as well as
the Chaldeans and Egyptians, had years of arbitrary
determination. They had months of 15 days, and
years of 60 days, or two months. A month is a night
and day of the patriarchs; a year is a night and day of
the gods; four thousand years of the gods, are as many
hundred years of men. By attention to such modes of
computation, the age of the world will be found very
nearly the same in the writings of Moses, and in the cal¬
culations and traditions of the Bramins. With these
also we have a remarkable coincidence with the Persian
chronology. Bailly has established these remarkable
epoehas from the Creation to the Deluge.
The Septuagint gives
The Chaldeans
The Egyptians
The Persians
The Hindoos
The Chinese
2256 years.
2222
2340
2000
2000
2300
The same author has also shown the singular coinci-
TORE. 783
dence of the age of the world as given by four distinct Scripture,
and distantly situated people.
The ancient Egyptians
The Hindoos
The Persians
The Jews, according to Josephus,
Having made these few remarks, to show that the
facts recorded in Genesis are not inconsistent with
truth, we shall now, by a few observations, establish
the evidence, from testimony, that Moses was the au¬
thor, and answer the objections that seem strongest.
There arises a great probability, from the book of
Genesis itself, that the author lived near the time of Jo¬
seph ; for as we advance towards the end of that book,
the tacts gradually become more minute. The materials
of the antediluvian history are very scanty. The ac¬
count of Abraham is more complete; but the history
of Jacob and his family is still more fully detailed. This
is indeed the case with every history. In the early part,
the relation is very short and general; but when the his¬
torian approaches his own time, his materials accumu¬
late. It is certain, too, that the book of Genesis must
have been written before the rest of the Pentateuch ;
for the allusions in the last four books to the history of
Abraham, of Isaac, and Jacob, are very frequent. The
simplicity of the style shows it to be one of the most
ancient of the sacred books; and perhaps its similarity
to the style of Moses would determine a critic to ascribe
it to him. It will be allowed that no man was better
qualified than Moses to compose the history of his an¬
cestors. He was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyp¬
tians, the most enlightened nation of his time, and he
had the best opportunities of obtaining accurate infor¬
mation. The short account of the antediluvian world
could easily be remembered by Abraham, who might
obtain it from Shem, who was his contemporary. To
Shem it might be conveyed by Methuselah, who was
340 years old when Adam died. From Abraham to
Moses, the interval was less than 400 years. The splen¬
did promises made to that partriarch would certainly be
carefully communicated to each generation, with the
concomitant facts : and thus the history might be con¬
veyed to Moses by the most distinguished persons. The
accounts respecting Jacob and his son Joseph might be
given to Moses by his grandfather Kohath, who must
have been born long before the descent into Egypt;
and Kohath might have heard all the facts respecting
Abraham and Isaac from Jacob himself. Thus we
can easily point out how Moses might derive the ma¬
terials of the book of Genesis, and especially of the
last 38 chapters, from the most authentic source. I4
It will now be necessary to consider very shortly the Objections
objections which have been supposed to prove that Ge- to the au-
nesis could not have been written by Moses. 1. It is ^
objected, that the author of the first chapters of Gene- Qene°;°3
sis must have lived in Mesopotamia, as he discovers a obviated,
knowledge of the rivers that watered Paradise, of the
cities Babylon, Erech, Resen, and Calneh; of the gold
of Pison; of the bdellium and onyx stone. But if he
could not derive this knowledge from the wisdom of
the Egyptians, which is far from being improbable, he
might surely obtain it by tradition from Abraham, who
was born and brought up beyond the Euphrates. 2. In
Genesis
5544 years.
5502
5501
5555
784
Scripture.
* Judges
chap, xviii.
22.
SCRIPTURE.
15
The book
of Exodus,
16
Leviticus.
* 2 Chron.
xxx. 16.
Jerem. vii.
22, 25.
ix. 16.
Ezek. xx.
11.
Matth.
viii. 4.
Rom. x. 5.
xiii. 9.
2 Cor. vi.
16.
Gal. iii. 12.
1 Pet. i. 16.
17
Numbers,
f Numb, i
S-xvi.
Genesis xiv. 14. it is said, Abraham pursued the four
confederate kings to Dan. yet that name was not given
till after the conquest of Palestine. * We answer, this
might be inserted by a transcriber. But such a supposi¬
tion is not necessary; for though we are told in the book
of Judges that a city originally called Laish received
then the name of Dan, this does not prove that Laish
was the same city with the Dan which is mentioned in
Genesis. The same answer may be given to the objec¬
tion which is brought from Genesis xxxv.21. where the
tower of Edar is mentioned, which the objectors say
was the name of a tower over one of the gates ot Jeru¬
salem. But the tower of Edar signifies the tower of the
flocks, which in the pastoral country of Canaan might
be a very common name. 3. The most formidable ob¬
jection is derived from these two passages, Gen. xii. 6.
“ And the Canaanite was then in the land.” Gen.xxxvi.
31. “ These are the kings that reigned over the land ot
Edom, before there reigned any Icing over the children erf
Israel. ” Now, it is certain that neither of these pas¬
sages could be written by Moses. We allow they were
added by a later writer; but this circumstance cannot
invalidate the evidence which has been already produ¬
ced. It does not prove that Moses was not the author
of the book of Genesis, but only that the book of Ge¬
nesis has received two alterations since his death.
According to Rivet, our Saviour and his Apostles
have cited 27 passages verbatim from the book of Ge¬
nesis, and have made 38 allusions to the sense.
The book of Exodus contains the history of the Is¬
raelites for about 145 years. It gives an account of the
slavery of the Israelites in Egypt; of the miracles by
which they were delivered; of their passage through
the Red sea, and journey through the wilderness; of
the solemn promulgation of the Decalogue on Mount
Sinai, and of the building and furniture of the Taber¬
nacle. This book is cited by David, by Daniel, and
other sacred writers. Twenty-five passages are quot¬
ed by our Saviour and his apostles in express words,
and they make 19 allusions to the sense.
The book of Leviticus contains the history of the
Israelites for one month. It consists chiefly of laws.
Indeed, properly speaking, it is the code of the Jewish
ceremonial and political laws. It describes the conse¬
cration of Aaron and his sons, the daring impiety and
exemplary punishment of Nadab and Abihu. It re¬
veals also some predictions respecting the punishment
of the Israelites in case of apostasy; and contains an
assurance that every sixth ear should produce abund¬
ance to support them during the seventh or sabbatical
year. This book is quoted as the production of Mo¬
ses in several books of scripture. *
The book of Numbers comprehends the history of the
Israelites for a period of about 38 years, reckoning from
the first day of the second month after their departure
from Egypt. It contains an account of two number¬
ings of the people; the first in the beginning of the se¬
cond year of their emigration, the second in the plains
of Moab towards the conclusion of their journey in the
wilderness, f It describes the ceremonies employed at
the consecration of the tabernacle, gives an exact jour¬
nal of the marches and encampments of the Israelites,
relates the appointment of the 70 elders, the miraculous
cure performed by the brazen serpent and the miscon¬
duct of Moses when he was commanded to bring water
out of the rock. There is also added an account of Scripture,
the death of Aaron, of the conquest of Sihon and Og, ——y——J
and the story of Balaam, with his celebrated prophecy
concerning the Messiah. § § Numb.
The book of Numbers is quoted as the work of Mo-xxlv- 17*
ses in several places of Scripture. * *9Joshua
The book of Deuteronomy comprehends a period ofiv, 22.
nearly two months. It consists of an interesting address 2 Chron.
to the Israelites, in which Moses recals to their remem-XX1X; 1f_1‘
brance the many instances of divine favour which they ^ek °xx
had experienced, and reproaches them for their ingrati-15. xiiv. 27.
tude. He lays before them, in a compendious form, Matth.
the laws which he had formerly delivered, and makes.
some explanatory additions. This was the more neces-k^ ’"x'sg
sary, because the Israelites, to whom they had been ori- j'g
ginally promulgated, and who had seen the miracles in Deutero-
Egypt, at the Red sea, and Mount Sinai, had died innomy.
the wilderness. The divine origin of these laws, and the
miracles by which they were sanctioned, must already
have been well known to them; yet a solemn recapitu¬
lation of these by the man who had miraculously fed the
present generation from their infancy, wdio by the lift¬
ing up of his hands had procured them victory in the
day of battle, and who w as going to leave the world to
give an account of his conduct to the God of Israel,
could not but make a deep and lasting impression on the
minds of all who heard him. He inculcates these laws
by the most powerful motives. He presents before them
the most animating rewards, and denounces the severest
punishments against the rebellious. The prophecies of
Moses towards the end of this book, concerning the fate
of the Jew’s, their dispersion and calamities, the con¬
quest of Jerusalem by the Romans, the miseries of the
besieged, and the present state of the Jew ish nation, #
cannot be read without astonishment. They are perspi- iv 4a
cuous and minute, and have been literally accomplished. j0im i. 45.
This book is quoted as the production of Moses by Acts iii. 22.
Christ and his apostles. * *'*'13,
4. The historical books are 12 in number, Joshua, 19
Judges, Ruth, Samuel I. and II. Kings I. and II. Chro-Tho histQ*
nicies, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther. These, if considered!ic
distinctly from the Pentateuch, and the writings more
properly styled prophetical, contain a compendium of
the Jewish historyfrom the death of Moses, A. M. 2552,
to the reformation established by Nehemiah after the
return from the capitivity, A. M. 3595, comprehend¬
ing a period of 1043 years.
To enable us to discover the authors of these books,
we have no guide to conduct us but conjecture, inter¬
nal evidence, or the authority of the modern Jews.
From the frequent references in Scripture, and from the
testimony of Josephus, it appears that the Jews were
in possession of many historical records which might
have thrown much light on this subject if they had still
been preserved. But during the calamities which befel
that infatuated nation in their wars with the Romans,
and the dispersion which followed, these writings have ^
perished. But though we can produce no testimonydeser“ing
more ancient than the age of our Saviour to authenti-of the full-
cate the historical books, yet there are some facts re-eat credit,
specting the mode of their preservation which entitle
them to credit. The very circumstance itself, that the
Jews have preserved them in the sacred volume to this
day, while their other ancient books have been lost, is
a proof that they considered them as the genuine re¬
cords
Scripture.
>)- Contra
yip ion,
lib. i.
f Ezra ii.
€1, 62.
21
Authenti¬
city of the
Hebrew
records.
SCRIP
cords oF their nation. Josephus, f whose authority is
of great importance, informs us, that it was the pecu¬
liar province of the prophets and priests to commit to
writing the annals of the nation, and transmit them to
posterity. That these might be faithfully preserved,
the sacerdotal function was made hereditary, and the
greatest care was taken to prevent intermarriages either
with foreigners or with the other tribes. No man could
officiate as a priest who could not prove Iws descent in a
right lineby unquestionable evidence. J Registers were
kept in Jerusalem, which at the end of every war were
regularly revised by the surviving priests; and new
ones were composed. As a proof that this has been
faithfully performed, Josephus adds, that the names of
all the Jewish priests, in an uninterrupted succession
from father to son, had been registered for 2000 years ;
that is, from the time of Aaron to the age of Josephus.
The national records were not allowed to be written
by any man who might think himself fit for the office ;
and if a priest falsified them, he was excluded from the
altar and deposed from his office. Thus we are assured
that the Jewish records were committed to the charge
of the priests ; and since they may be considered as the
same family from Aaron to the Babylonish captivity
and downwards, the same credit is due to them that
would be due to family records, which by antiquarians
are esteemed the most authentic sources of information.
Of the 22 books which Josephus reckoned himself
bound to believe, the historical books from the death of
Moses to the reign of Artaxerxes, he informs us, were
written by contemporary prophets. It appears, then,
that the prophets were the composers, and the priests
the hereditary keepers of the national records. Thus,
the best provision possible was made that they should
be written accurately, and preserved uncorrupted.
The principal office of these prophets was to instruct the
people in their duty to God, and occasionally to com¬
municate the predictions of future events. For this
purpose they were educated in the schools of the pro¬
phets, or in academies where sacred learning was taught.
The prophets were therefore the learned men of their
time, and consequently were best qualified for the office
of historians. It may be objected, that the prophets, in
concertwith the priests, might have forged any writings
they pleased. But before we suspect that they have
done so in the historical books of the Old Testament,
we must find out some motive which could induce them
to commit so daring a crime. But this is impossible.
No encomiums are made either on the prophets or the
priests ; no adulation to the reigning monarch appears,
nor is the favour of the populace courted. The faults
of all ranks are delineated without reserve. Indeed
there is no history extant that has more the appear¬
ance of impartiality. We are presented with a simple
detail of facts, and are left to discover the motives
and intentions of the several characters ; and when a
character is drawn, it is done in a few words, without
exaggerating the vices or amplifying the virtues.
It is of no great consequence, therefore, whether we
can ascertain the authors of the different books or not.
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
T U R E.
135
From Josephus we know that they existed in his time ; Scripture,
and from his account of the manner in which they were —v—
preserved, we are assured they were not in danger of
being corrupted. They existed also when the Septua-
gint translation was made. Frequent references are
made to them in the writings of the later prophets ;
sometimes the same facts are related in detail. In
short, there is such a coincidence between the histo¬
rical books and the writings of those prophets who
were contemporary, that it is impossible to suppose
the latter true without receiving the former.
Indeed, to suppose that the Jews could have re¬
ceived and preserved with such care for so many hun¬
dred years false records, which it must have been in
the power of every person to disprove, and which at
the same time do so little credit to the character of
their nation, is to suppose one of the greatest absurdi¬
ties in the world ; it is to suppose that a whole nation
could act contrary to all those principles which have
always predominated in the human mind, and which
must always predominate till human nature undergo
a total revolution. 22
The hook which immediately follows the Pentateuch ^0iliua<
has been generally ascribed to Joshua the successor of
Moses. It contains, however, some things which must
have been inserted after the death of Joshua. It is
necessary to remark, that there is some accidental de¬
rangement in the order of the chapters of this book,
which was probably occasioned by the ancient mode
of fixing together a number of rolls. If chronologi¬
cally placed, they should be read thus, 1st chapter to
the 1 Oth verse, then the 2d chapter ; then from the
10th verse to the end of the 1st chapter ; afterwards
should follow the vi. vii. viii. ix. x. and xi. chapters ;
then the xxii.; and lastly the xii. and xiii. chapters to
the 24 th verse of the latter.
The facts mentioned in this book are referred to by
many of the sacred writers. § In the first book ol§ j chron.
Kings xvi. 34*. the words of Joshua are said to be theii. 7.—xii.
words of God. See Joshua. 15.j Psalm
By whom the book of Judges was written is uncer-xxviii.
tain; but as it contains the history of the Jewish repub- 2i. • Acts"
lie for 317 years, the materials must have been furnish-vii. 45.;
ed by different persons. The book, however, seems to Heb. xi. ^
be the composition of one individual (g), who lived af-
ter the regal government was established, * but before 25. 28.;
the accession of David; for it is said in the 21st verse Kcclus.xlvh
of the 1st chapter, that the Jebusites were still in Je-j1.-; 1 Vac.
rusalem; who, we know, were dispossessed of that
city early in the reign of David, f We have reason, ju(jgeSi
therefore, to ascribe this book to Samuel. . . * Judg. xix.
The history of this book may be divided into two M
parts ; the first contains an account of the judges from v. 6/^in*
Othniel to Samson, ending at the 16th chapter. Ihe
second part relates several remarkable transactions
which occurred soon after the death of Joshua ; but
are added to the end of the book, that they might not
interrupt the course of the history. 24
The book of Ruth is a kind of supplement to the Ruth,
book of Judges, and an introduction to the history of
-j- 5 G David,
(g) In support of this opinion, it may be observed that the author, chap. ii. 10, &c. lays before us the con
tents of the book.
786 8 C R f P
Scripture. David, as it is related in the books of Samuel. Since
the genealogy which it contains descends to David, it
must have been written after the birth of that prince,
but not at any considerable time after it; for the hi¬
story of Boaz and Ruth, the great-grandfather and
great-grandmother of David, could not be remembered
above two or three generations. As the elder brothers
of David and their sons are omitted, and none of his
own children are mentioned in the genealogy, it is e-
vident that the hook was composed in honour of the
Hebrew monarch, after he was anointed king by Sa¬
muel, and before any of his children were born ; and
consequently in the reign of Saul. The Jews ascribe
it to Samuel; and indeed there is no person of that
age to whom it may be attributed with more proprie¬
ty. We are informed (1 Sam. x. 25.) that Samuel
was a writer, and are assured that no person in the
reign of Saul was so well acquainted with the splen-
did prospects of David as the prophet Samuel.
The two The Greeks denominate the hooks of Samuel, which
books of follow next in order, The Books of Kingdoms; and the
Samuel. Latins, The Books of Kings I. and II. Anciently there
were hut two books of Kings ; the first was the two
books of Samuel, and the second was what we now
call the two books of Kings. According to the pre¬
sent division, these two books are four, viz. the first
and second books of Samuel, and the first and second
books of Kings.
Concerning the author of the two books of Samuel
there are different opinions. Some think that Samuel
wrote only twenty or twenty-four chapters of the first
book, and that the history was continued by Nathan
and Gad. This opinion they ground on the following
* • C!r-PassaSe hi Chronicles, * “ Now the acts of David the
xui. .. king, first and last, behold they are written in the book
of Samuel the seer, and in the book of Nathan the pro¬
phet, and Gad the seer. ” Others think they were
compiled by Ezra from ancient records ; but it is evi¬
dent that the books of Samuel were written before the
books of Kings and Chronicles ; for on comparison it
will be found, that in the last mentioned books many
circumstances are taken from the former. The first
book carries down the history of the Israelites from the
birth of Samuel to the fatal battle of Gilboa, compre¬
hending a period of about SO years. The second re¬
lates the history of David from his succession to the
throne of Israel till within a year or two of his death,
con alining 40 years. There are two beautiful passages
in these books which every man of sentiment and taste
must feel and admire, the lamentation or elegy on Saul
and Jonathan, and the parable of Nathan.. The im¬
partiality of the historian is fully attested by the can¬
dour and freedom with which the actions of Saul and
David are related. There are some remarks inter¬
spersed which were probably added by Ezra.
When the two books of Kings were written, or by
whom they were compiled, is uncertain. Some have
supposed that David, Solomon, and Hezckiah, wrote the
history of their own times. Others have been of opi¬
nion that the prophets, viz. Isaiah, Jeremiah, Gad, and
Nathan, each of them wrote the history of the reign in
which he lived. But it is generally believed that Kzi'a
wrote those two books, and published them in the form
m which we have them at present. There can be no
doubt that the prophets drew up the lives of the kings
T U R E.
who reigned in their times : for the names and writings Scnptiir<v
of those prophets are frequently mentioned, and cited.
Still, however, it is evident that the two books of
Kings are hut an abridgement of a larger work, the
substance of which is contained in the books before us.
In support of the opinion that Ezra is the author of
these books, it is said, That in the time of the penman,
the ten tribes were captive in Assyria, whither they
had been carried as a punishment for their sins: That
in tho second of these books the author makes some
reflections on the calamities of Israel and Judah, which
demonstrate that he lived after that event. But to
this it is objected, That the author of these books ex¬
presses himself throughout as a cotemporary, and as
one would have done who had been an eye and ear-
witness of what he related. To this objection it is
answered, That Ezra compiled these books from the
prophetic writings which he had in his possession; that
he copied them exactly, narrating the facts in order
as they happened, and interspersed in his history some
reflections and remarks arising from the subjects which
he handled.
The first book comprises a period of 126 years, from
the death of David to that of Jehoshaphat. The se¬
cond book records the transactions of many kings of
Judah and Israel for about 300 years, from tlie death
of Jehoshaphat to the di struction of Jerusalem and
the temple, A. M. 3416; \. C. 588. ^
The Hebrews style the t\ a books of Chronicles I)e- Of Clir-a-
heri Imhn,* i. e. Words of a journals or diaries, in nicies.
allusion to those ancient jour als which appear to have*
been kept among the Jews. The Greeks call thentL
Paralipomena,\ which signifies things omitted; as if ,”1*
these two books were a kind of supplement to inform t '~x*?■:>,u-
us what had been omitted or too much abridged in the-q-m'**
hooks of Kings. The two books of Chronicles contain
indeed several particulars which are not to he met with
in the other books of scripture: but it is not therefore
to be supposed that they are the records of the kings
of Judah and Israel, so often referred to in the books
of Kings. Those ancient registers were apparently
much more copious than the books before us; and the
compiler of the books of Chronicles often refers to*
and makes long extracts from, them.
Some suppose that the author of these two books
was the same with that of the two books of Kings.
The Jews say that they were written by Ezra, after
the return from the captivity, assisted by Zechariah and
Ilaggai, who were then alive. But events are men¬
tioned in them of so late a date as to show that he
could not have written them in their present form ;
and there is another objection to his being their au¬
thor, which is little less forcible : between the books
of Kings and Chronicles, there are numerous varia¬
tions both in dates and facts, which could not have
happened if Ezra had been the author of them, or in¬
deed if they had been the work of any one person.
The books of Chronicles are not to be regarded mere¬
ly as an abridgement of former histories with some useful
additions, but as books written with a particular view ;
which seSms to have been to furnish a genealogical regi¬
ster of the twelve tribes, deduced from the earliest times,
in order to point out those distinctions which were ne¬
cessary to discriminate the mixed multitude which re¬
turned frogi Babylon ; to ascertain the lineage of Ju-
1 dally,
SCRIPTURE.
iOi
29
Of Nehe-
fiiiah.
ct ib ; anti to re-establish on their ancient footing the
'pretensions and functions of each individual tribe.
The book of Ezra, and also that of Nehemiah, are
attributed by the ancients to the former of these pro¬
phets; and they called them the 1st and 2d books of
Esdras ; which title is still kept up by the Latin church.
It is indeed highly probable that the former of these
books, which comprises the history of the Jews fx-om the
time that Cyrus made the decree for their return until
the twentieth year of Artaxerxes Longimanus (which
was about 100 years, or as others think 79 years), was
all composed by Ezra, except the first six chapters,
which contain an account of the first return of the Jews
on the decree of Cyrus: whereas Ezx-a did not return
till the time of Artaxerxes. It is of this second return
therefore that he writes the account: and adding it to
the other, which he found composed to his hand, he
made it a complete history of the Jewish restoration.
This book is written in Chaldee from Chap. iv. 8. to
chap. vii. 27. As this part of the works chiefly con¬
tains lettei's, conversations, and decrees expressed in
that language, the fidelity of the historian has probably
induced him to take down the very words which were
used. The people, too, had been accustomed to the
Chaldee during the captivity, and pi'obably understood
it better than Hebrew ; for it appears from Nehemiah’s
account, chap. viii. 2, 8. that all could not understand
the law.
The book of Nehemiah, as has been already obser¬
ved, bears, in the Latin bibles, the title of the second
book of Esdras ; the ancient canons likewise give it the
same name, because, perhaps, it was considered as a
sequel to the book of Ezra. In the Hebrew bibles it
has the name of Nehemiah prefixed to it; which name
is retained in the English bible. But though that
chief is by the writer of the second book of Maccabees
affirmed to have been the author of it, there cannot,
we think, be a doubt, either that it w-as written at a
later period, or had additions made to it after Nehe¬
miah’s death.
With the book of Nehemiah the history of the Old
Testament concludes. This is supposed to have taken
place about A. M. 3574, A. C. 434. But Prideaux
with more probability has fixed it at A. M. 3595. See Scripture.
Nehemiah. ‘  —'
It is uncertain who was the author of the book of
Esther. of Alexandria, and many commenta¬
tors, have ascribed it to Mordecai; and the book itself
seems to favour this opinion; for we are told in chap,
ix. 20. that “ Mordecai wrote these things. ” Others
have supposed that Ezra was the author ; but the more
probable opinion of the Talmudists is, that the great
synagogue (see Synagogue), to perpetuate the me¬
mory of the deliverance of the Jews from the conspira¬
cy of Haman, and to account for the origin of the feast
of Purim, ordered this book to be composed, very likely
of materials leftby Moi’decai, and afterwards approved
and admitted it into the sacred canon. The time when
the events v/hich it relates happened, is supposed by
some to have been in the reign of Artaxerxes Longi¬
manus, and by others in that of Darius the son of Hy-
staspes, called by the sacred penman Ahasnerus.
Concerning the author of the book of Job there are Of Job.
many different opinions. Some have supposed that Job
himself wrote it in Syriac or Arabic, and that it was
afterwards translated by Moses. Others have thought
that Elihu wrote it; and by others it is ascribed to
Moses, to Solomon, to Isaiah, and to Ezra. To give
even an abridgement of the arguments brought in sup¬
port of these various opinions would till a volume, and
at last leave the reader in his present uncertainty. He
who has leisure and inclination to weigh them may
study the second section of the sixth book of Warbur-
ton’s Divine Legation of Moses, together with the se¬
veral works there referred to ; but the question at issue
is of very little importance to us. The book of Job,
by whomsoever it was written, and whether it be a real
history, or a dramatical poem founded on history, has
been always esteemed a portion of canonical scripture,
and is one of the most sublime compositions in the sa-
ci'ed volume.
The book of Job appears to stand single and unpa¬
ralleled in the sacred volume. It seems to have little
connexion with the other writings of the Hebrews,
and no relation whatever to the affairs of the Isx*aeiites,
The scene is laid in Idumcea (h) ; the history of an in¬
habitant,
(h) “ The information which the learned have endeavoured to collect from the writings and geography of
the Greeks concerning the country and residence of Job and his friends, appears to me (says Dr Lowth) so
very inconclusive, that I am inclined to take a quite different method for the solution of this question, by ap-^
plying solely to the Sacred Writings: the hints with which they have furnished me towards the illustration of
this subject, I shall explain as briefly as possible.
“ The land of Uz, or Gnutz, is evidently Idumcea, as appears from Lam. iv. 21. Uz was the grandson of
Seir the Horite, Gen. xxxvi. 20, 21, 28. 1 Chron. i. 38, 42. Seir inhabited that mountainous tract which was
called by his name antecedent to the time of Abraham ; but his posterity being expelled, it was occupied by
the Idumseans : Gen. xiv. 6. Deut. ii. 12. Two other men are mentioned of the name of Uz ; one the grand¬
son of Shem, the other the son of Nachor, the bi’other of Abraham : but whether any district was called after
their name is not clear. Idumaea is a part of Arabia Petraea, situated on the southern extremity of the tribe
of Judah : Numb, xxxiv. 3. Josh. xv. 1, 21. The land of Uz therefore appears to have been between Egypt
and Philistia, Jer. xxv. 20. where the order of the places seems to have been accurately observed in reviewing
the difi’erent nations from Egypt to Babylon ; and the same people seem again to he described in exactly the
same situations, Jer. xlvi.—1.
“ Children of the East, or Eastern -people, seems to have been the general appellation for that mingled race
of people (a^> they are called, Jer. xxv. 20.) who inhabited between Egypt and the Euphrates, bordering upon
Judea from the south to the east; the Idumaeans, the Amalekites, the Midlanites, the Moabites, the Ammon¬
ites. See Judges vi. 3. and Isa. xi. 14. Of these the Idumeeans and Amalekites certainly possessed the south¬
ern parts. See Numb, xxxiv. 3. xiii. 29. I Sam. xxvii. 8, 10. This appears to be the true state of the case :
1 5 G 2 - The
788
S C K I P T U R E.
Scripture, habitant of that country is the basis of the narrative ;
the characters who speak are Idumseans, or at least
Arabians of the adjacent country, all originally of the
race of Abraham. The language is pure Hebrew, al¬
though the author appears to be an Idumaean ; for it
is not improbable that all the posterity of Abraham,
Israelites, Idumeans, and Arabians, whether of the
family of Keturah or Ishmael, spoke for a consider¬
able length of time one common language. That the
Idumseans, however, and the Temanites in particular,
were eminent for the reputation of wisdom, appears
■Ter. xlix. by the testimony of the prophets Jeremiah and Oba-
diah: + Baruch also particularly mentions them among
Ob. 8.
“ the authors (or expounders) of fables, and searchers Scripture.
out of understanding. ” j:  v—
The principal personage in this poem is Job ; and in 1 Baruch
his character is meant to be exhibited (as far as is con-111' 2o‘
sistent with human infirmity) an example of perfect The cha-
virtue. This is intimated in the argument or intro-racter of
duction, but is still more eminently displayed by hisJob-
own actions and sentiments. He is holy, devout, and
most piously and reverently impressed with the sacred
awe ot his divine Creator ; he is also upright, and con¬
scious of his own integrity ; he is patient of evil, and
yet very remote from that insensibility or rather stupi¬
dity to which the Stoic school pretended. Oppressed
therefore
The whole region between Egypt and Euphrates was called the East, at first in respect to Egypt (where the
learned Jos. Mede thinks the Israelites acquired this mode of speaking. Mede’s Works, p. 5S0.), and after¬
wards absolutely and without any relation to situation or circumstances. Abraham is said to have sent the
sons of his concubines, Hagar and Keturah, “ eastward, to the country which is commonly called the East,’*
Gen. xxv. 6. where the name of the region seems to have been derived from the same situation. Solomon is
reported “ to have excelled in wisdom all the Eastern people, and all Egypt, ” 1 Kings iv. 30.; that is, all
the neighbouring people on that quarter; for there were people beyond the boundaries of Egypt, and border¬
ing on the south of Judea, who were famous for wisdom, namely, the Idumaeans (see Jer. xtix. 7. Ob. 8.), to
whom we may well believe this passage might have some relation. Thus Jehovah addresses the Babylonians;
“ Arise, ascend unto Kedar, and lay waste the children of the East, ” (Jer. xlix. 28.), notwithstanding these
were really situated to the west of Babylon. Although Job, therefore, be accounted one of the orientals, it
by no means follows that his residence must be in Arabia Deserta.
“ Eliphaz the Temanite was the son of Esau, and Teman the son of Eliphaz, (Gen. xxxvi. 10, 11.) The
Eliphaz of Job, was without a doubt of this race. Teman is certainly a city of Idumasa, (Jer. xlix. 7, 20.
Ezek. xxv. 13. Amos i. 11, 12. Ob. 8, 9.)
“ Bildad the Shuhite : Shuah was one of the sons of Abraham by Keturah, whose posterity were numbered
among the people of the East, and his situation was probably contiguous to that of his brother Midian, and of
his nephews Shebah and Dedan, (see Gen. xxv. 2, and 3.) Deuan is a city of Idumaea (Jer. xlix. 8.), and
seems to have been situated on the eastern side, as Teman was on the west, (Ezek. xxv. 13.) From Sheba ori¬
ginated the Sabeans in the passage from Arabia Felix to the Red Sea : Sheba is united to Midian (Isa. lx. 6.) ;
it is in the same region however with Midian, and not far from Mount Horeb, (Exod. ii. 15. iii. 1.)
“ Zophar the Naamathite : among the cities which by lot fell to the tribe of Judah, in the neighbourhood
of Idumaea, Naama is enumerated, (Josh. xv. 21, 41.) Nor does this name elsewhere occur; this probably
was the country of Zophar.
“ Elihu the Buzite : Buz occurs but once as the name of a place or country (Jer. xxv. 23.), where it is men¬
tioned along with Dedan and Thema : Dedan, as was just now demonstrated, is a city of Idumaea ; Thema
belonged to the children of Ishmael, who are said to have inhabited from Havilah, even to Shur, which is in
the district of Egypt, (Gen. xxv. 15. 18.) Saul, however, is said to have smitten the Amalekites from Havilah
even to Shur, which is in the district of Egypt, (1 Sam. xv. 7.) Havilah cannot, therefore, he very far from
the boundaries of the Amalekites ; but the Amalekites never exceeded the boundaries of Arabia Petraea.
(See Reland Paleestiu. lib. i. c. IK) Thema, therefore, lay somewhere between Havilah and the desert of
Shur, to the southward of Judea. Thema is also mentioned in connexion with Sheba, (Job vi. 19.)
“ Upon a fair review of these facts, I think we may venture to conclude, still with that modesty which such
a question demands, that Job was an inhabitant of Arabia Petrjea, as well as his friends, or at least of that
neighbourhood. To this solution one objection may be raised: it may be,.asked, How the Chaldeans, who
lived on the borders of the Euphrates, could make depredations on the camels of Job, who lived in Idumaea
at so great a distance ? This too is thought a sufficient cause for assigning Job a situation in Arabia Deserta,
and not far from the Euphrates. But what should prevent the Chaldeans, as well as the Sabeans, a people
addicted to rapine, and roving about at immense distances for the sake of plunder, from wandering through
these defenceless regions, which were divided into tribes and families rather than into nations, and pervading
from Euphrates even to Eg}Tpt ? Further, I would ask on the other hand, whether it be probable that all the
friends of Job who lived in Idumasa and its neighbourhood, should instantly be informed of all that could
happen to Job in the desert of Ai’abia and on the confines of Chaldea, and immediately repair thither ? Or
whether it be reasonable to think, that, some of them being inhabitants of Arabia Deserta, it should be con¬
certed among them to meet at the residence of Job ; since it is evident, that Eliphaz lived at Theman, in the
extreme parts of Idumasa ? With respect to the Aisitas of Ptolemy (for so it is written, and not Ausitns) it
has no agreement, not so much as in a single letter, with the Hebrew Gnutz. The LXX indeed call that
country by the name Ausitida, but they describe it as situated in Idumaea ; and they account Job himself an
Idurnean, and a descendant of Esau. ” See the Appendix of the LXX to the book of Job, and Hyde Not*
in Peritzol. chap, xi Loivth on Hebrctv Poetry, 3
SCRIPTURE.
789
Scripture, therefore with unparalleled misfortunes, he laments his
"Y—misery, and even wishes a release by death; in other
words, he obeys and gives place to the dictates of
nature. Irritated, however, by the unjust insinuations
and the severe reproaches of his pretended friends, he
is more vehemently exasperated, and a too great con¬
fidence in his own righteousness leads him to expostu¬
late with God in terms scarcely consistent with piety
and strict decorum.
It must be observed, that the first speech of Job,
though it bursts forth with all the vehemence of passion,
consists wholly of complaint, “ the words and senti-
* Job. vi. ments of a despairing person, empty as the wind; ” *
which is indeed the apology that he immediately makes
for his conduct; intimating that he is far from pre¬
suming to plead with God, far from daring to call in
question the divine decrees, or even to mention his own
innocence in the presence of his all-just Creator : nor
is there any good reason for the censure which has been
passed by some commentators on this passage. The
poet seems, with great judgment and ingenuity, to have
performed in this wdiat the nature of his work required.
He has depicted the affliction and anguish of Job, as
flowing from his wounded heart in a manner so agree¬
able to human nature (and certainly so far venial), that
it may be truly said, “ in all this Job sinned not with
his lips. ” It is, nevertheless, embellished by such af¬
fecting imagery, and inspired with such a warmth and
force of sentiment, that we find it afforded ample scope
for calumny; nor did the unkind witnesses of his suffer¬
ings permit so fair an opportunity to escape. The oc¬
casion is eagerly embraced by Eliphaz to rebuke the
impatience of Job; and, not satisfied with this, he pro¬
ceeds to accuse him in direct terms of wanting forti¬
tude, and obliquely to insinuate something of a deeper
dye. Though deeply hurt with the coarse reproaches
of Eliphaz, still, however, when Job afterwards com¬
plains of the severity of God, he cautiously refrains from
violent expostulations with his Creator, and, contented
with the simple expression of affliction, he humbly con-
t See chap.fesses himself a sinner. + Hence it is evident, that those
vii. 20. vehement and perverse attestations of his innocence,
those murmurs against the divine Providence, which his
tottering virtue afterwards permits, are to be considered
merely as the consequences of momentary passion, and
not as the ordinary effects of his settled character or
manners. They prove him at the very wo-rst not an ir¬
religious man, but a man possessed of integrity, and too
confident of it; a man oppressed with almost every ima¬
ginable evil,, both corporal and mental, and hurried
beyond the limits of virtue by the strong influence of
pain and affliction. When, on the contrary, his im¬
portunate visitors abandon by silence the cause which
they had so wantonly and so maliciously maintained, and
cease unjustly to load him with unmerited criminations;
though he defends his argument with scarcely less obsti¬
nacy, yet the vehemence of his grief appears gradually
to subside, he returns to himself, and explains his senti¬
ments with more candour and sedateness: and however
we may blame him for assuming rather too much arro¬
gance in his appeals to the Almighty, certainly his de¬
fence against the accusations of Eliphaz is no more than
the occasion will strictly justify. Observe, in the first
place, how admirably the confidence and perseverance
of Job is displayed in replying to the slander of his Scripture
false friends: 1——
33
As God liveth, who hath removed ray judgment; dence°and
Nay, as the Almighty liveth, who hath imbittered my perseve-
soul ; • ranee.
Verily as long as I have life in me,
And the breath of God is in my nostrils;
My lips shall not speak perversity,
Neither shall my tongue whisper prevarication.
God forbid that I should declare you righteous!
Till I expire I will not remove my integrity from me.
I have fortified myself in my righteousness,
And I will not give up my station:
My heart shall not upbraid me as long as I live.
May mine enemy be as the impious man,
And he that riseth up against me as the wicked. * * Chap.
xxvii. tl ~ 7'.
But how magnificent, how noble, how inviting and
beautiful is that image of virtue in which he delineates
his past life! What dignity and authority does he seem
to possess!
If I came out to the gate, nigh the place of public re¬
sort,
If I took up my seat in the street;
The young men saw me, and they hid themselves;
Nay, the very old men rose up and stood.
The princes refrained talking,
Nay, they laid their hands on their mouths.
The nobles held their peace,
And their tongue cleaved to the roof of their mouth, f
. n t Chap.-
What liberality! what a promptitude in beneficence! xxix. 7—
Because the ear heard, therefore it blessed me;
The eye also saw, therefore it bore testimony for me,
That I delivered the poor who cried,
The orphan also, and him who had no helper.
The blessing of him who was ready to perish came up¬
on me,
And I caused the heart of the widow to sing for joy. f
. | Chap.
What sanctity, what integrity m a judicial capacity!xxix. it—
j
I put on righteousness, and it clothed me like a robe;
My justice also was a diadem.
I was a father to the poor,
And the controversy which I knew not, I searched it
out.
Then brake 1 the grinders of the oppressor,
And I plucked the prey out of his teeth. $ § Chap.
1 xxix. 14,.
But what can be more engaging than the purity of 16, 17.
his devotion, and his reverence for the Supreme Being,
founded on the best and most philosophical principles?
Besides that through the whole there runs a strain of
the most amiable tenderness and humanity.
For what is the portion which God distributeth from
above,
And the inheritance of the Almighty from on high ?
Is it not destruction to the wicked,
And banishment from their country to the doers of
iniquity ?
Doth he not see my ways ?
And numbereth he not all my steps ?
If I should despise the cause of my servant,.
Or
9-0
n
Scripture. Or my maid, when they had a controversy with me,
v—What then should I do when God ariseth,
And when he visiteth, what answer could I make him?
Did not he who formed me in the belly form him,
And did not one fashion us in the womb ! f
s c li i r t tr r E.
4.
f 1'hap,
?:xxi. 2-
13—Uk
34
Characters The three friends are exactly such characters as the
of ins three nature of the poem required. They are severe, irritable,
uemi'. malignant censors, readily and with apparent satisfac¬
tion deviating from the purpose of consolation into re¬
proof and contumely. Even from the very first they
manifest this evil propensity, and indicate what is to be
expected from them. The first of them, indeed, in the
opening of his harangue, assumes an air of candour.
Would’st thou take it unkindly that one should essay
I cliaP' to sneak to thee ? t
iv, 2. 1 +
Indignation is, however, instantly predominant:
But a few words who can forbear ?
The second flames forth at once:
How long wilt thou trifle in this manner ?
How long shall the words of thy mouth be as a mighty
§ Chap. wind ? 6
Viii. 2.
But remark the third :
Shall not the master of words be answered ?
Or shall a man be acquitted for his fine speeches ?
Shall thy prevarications make men silent ?
Shall tliou even scoff, and there be no one to make thee
• Chap. ashamed? *
SI. -2, 3.
Of EJih r^1G ^en’t^ ant^ mo<Wion of Elihu serves as a beau-
1 u* tiful contrast to the intemperance and asperity of the
other three. He is pious, mild, and equitable ; equal¬
ly free from adulation and severity; and endued with
singular wisdom, which he attributes entirely to the
inspiration of God: and his modesty, moderation, and
wisdom, are the more entitled to commendation when
we consider his unripe youth. As the characters of his
detractors were in all respects calculated to inflame the
mind of Job, that of this arbitrator is admirably adapted
to soothe and compose it: to this point the whole drift
of the argument tends, and on this the very purport
of it seems to depend.
Another circumstance deserving particular attention
in a poem of this kind, is the sentiment; which must be
agreeable to the subject, and embellished with proper
expressions. It is by Aristotle enumerated among the
essentials of a dramatic poem ; not indeed as peculiar
to that species of poetry alone, hut as common, and of
the greatest importance, to all. Manners or character
are essential only to that poetry in which living persons
are introduced ; and all such poems must afford an ex¬
act representation of human manners: but sentiment
is essential to every poem, indeed to every composition
whatever. It respects both persons and things. As
far as it regards persons, it is particularly concerned
in the delineation of the manners and passions : and
those instances to which we have just been adverting,
are sentiments expressive of manners. Those which
relate to the delineation of the passions, and to the
description of other subjects, yet remain unnoticed.
I he poem of Job abounds chiefly in the more vehe¬
ment passions, grief and anger, indignation and violent
contention. It is adapted in every respect to the hi- Sa-iptfiret
citement of terror; and, as the specimens already quot-'——'r—*
ed will sufficiently prove, is universally animated with 5.6
the true spirit of sublimity. It. is, however, not want-“it1™ent9-
rng in the gentler passions. The following complaints, poem of
for instance, are replete with an affecting spirit of me-Job.
laneholy.
Man, the offspring of a woman,
Is of few days, and full of inquietude ;
He springeth up, and is cut off like a flower;
He flee-eth like a shadow, and doth not abide:
On such a creature dost thou open thine eyes ?
And wilt thou bring me even into judgment with thee ?
Turn thy look from him, that he may have some re¬
spite,
Till he shall, like a hireling, have completed his day. f f Chap.
xiv. 1, g,
The whole passage abounds with the most beautifuls, c.
imagery, and is a most perfect specimen of the Elegiac.
His grief afterwards becomes more fervent; hut is at
the same time soft and querimonious.
How long will ye vex my soul,
And tire me with vain harangues ?
These ten times have ye loaded me with reproaches,
Are ye not ashamed that ye are so obstinate against me!
Pity me, O pity me, ye are my friends,
For the hand of God hath smitten me.
Why will ye he my persecutors as well as God,
And therefore will ye not be satisfied with my flesh ? J j Qiap4
The ardour and alacrity of the war-horse, and his ^
eagerness for battle, are painted with a masterly hand. 37
i Its subli-
For eagerness and fuyy he devoureth the very ground: m;ty.
He believeth it not when he heareth the trumpet.
When the trumpet soundeth, he saith, ahah ?
Yea he scenteth the battle from afar,
The thunder of the chieftains and their shouts. * * chap.
The following sublime description of the creation 24>
admirable.
Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the
earth ?
If thou knowest, declare.
Say, who fixed the proportions of it, for surely thou
knowest ?
Or who stretched out the line upon it?
On what were its foundations fixed?
Or who laid the corner-stone thereof?
When the morning-stars sang together,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy ;
When the sea was shut up with doors;
When it burst forth as an infant that cflmeth out of
the womb ;
When I placed the cloud for its robe, *
And thick darkness for its swadling-band;
When I fixed my boundary against it,
When I placed a bar and gates ;
When I said, Thus far shall thou come, and not ad¬
vance,
And here shall a stop be put to the pride of thy waves, f -j. job,
xxxviLi#
Let it suffice to say, that the dignity of the style is 4_n,
answerable to that of the subject; its force and energy,
to the greatness of those passions which it describes :
and as this production excels all the other remains of
the
S C R I P
^lipuirc. the Hebrew poetry in economy and arrangement, so it
yields to none in sublimity of style and in every grace
and excellence of composition. Among the principal
of these may be reckoned the accurate and perfectly
poetical conformation of the sentences, which is indeed
generally most observable in the most ancient of the
poetical compositions of the Hebrews. Here, how¬
ever, as is natural and proper in a poem of so great
length and sublimity, the writer’s skill is displayed in
the proper adjustment of the periods, and in the accu¬
rate distribution of the members, rather than in the
antithesis of words, or in any laboured adaptation of
58 the parallelisms.
Thu hook The word Psalms is a Greek term, and signifies Songs.
or Psalms. 'g|ie Hebrews call it Scphcr Tehillim, * that is, “ the
D^rm jjook 0f Praises; ” and in the Gospel it is styled the
Book of Psalms. Great veneration has always been
paid to this collection of divine songs. The Christian
church has from the beginning made them a principal
part of her holy services ; and in the primitive times it
was almost a general rule that every bishop, priest, and
religious person, should have the psalter by heart.
Many learned fathers, and not a few of the moderns,
have maintained that David was the author of them all.
Several are of a different opinion, and insist that David
wrote only 72 of them ; and that those without titles
are to be ascribed to the authors of the preceding
psalms, whose names are affixed to them. Those who
suppose that David alone was the author, contend,
that in the New Testament, and in the language of
the church universal, they are expressly called the
Psalms of David. That David was the principal au¬
thor of these hymns is universally acknowledged, and
therefore the whole collection may properly enough go
under his name; but that he wrote them all, is n pal¬
pable mistake. Nothing certain can be gathered from
the titles of the psalms ; for although unquestionably
very ancient, yet authors are not agreed as to their au¬
thority, and they differ as much about their significa¬
tion. The Hebrew doctors generally agree that the
92d psalm was composed by Adam ; an opinion which
39 for many reasons we are not inclined to adopt. There
Written by seems, however, to be no doubt that some of them were
ditferent written by Moses; that Solomon was the author of the
smthors. 4gth . an(| tbat others were occasioned by events long
posterior to the flourishing era of the kingdom of Judah.
The 137th particularly is one of those which men¬
tions ihe captivity of Babylon.
The following arrangement of the Psalms, after a
careful and judicious examination, has been adopted
by Calmet.
1. Eight Psalms of which the date is uncertain, viz.
1, 4, 19, 81, 91, 110, 139, 145. The first of these
was composed by David or Ezra, and was sung in the
temple at the feast of trumpets held in the beginning
of the year, and at the feast of tabernacles. The 81st
is attributed to Asaph, and the 110th to'David. The
authors of the rest are unknown.
2. The Psalms composed by David during the per¬
secution of Saul. These are seventeen, 11, 31, 34,
T U R E. 791
56, 16, 54, 52, 109, 17, 22, 35, 57, 58, 142, 140,^ScHptunj
3. The Psalms composed by David at the beginning
of his reign, and after the death of Saul. These are
sixteen, 2, 9, 24, 63, 101, 29, 20, 21, 28, 39, 40,
41, 6, 51, 32, 33.
4. The Psalms written by David during the rebel¬
lion of Absalom are eight in number, 3, 4, 55, 62,
70, 71, 143, 144.
5. The Psalms written between the death of Absa¬
lom and the captivity, which are ten, 18, 30, 72, 45,
78, 82, 83, 76, 74, 79: of these David wrote only
three ; 18, SO, and 72.
6. The Psalms composed during the captivity, which
amount to forty. These were chiefly composed by the
descendants of Asaph and Korah: they are, 10, 12, IS,
14, 53, 15, 25, 26, 27, 28, 36, 37, 42, 43, 44, 49,
50, 60, 64, 69, 73, 75, 77, 80, 84, 86, 88, 89, 90,
92, 93, 94, 95, 99, 120, 121, 123, 130, 131, 132.
Lastly, Those hymns of joy and thanksgiving, writ¬
ten on the release from the Babylonish captivity, and
at the building and dedication of the temple. ’These
are, 122, 61, 63, 124, 23, 87, 85, 46, 47, 48, from
96 to 117 inclusive, 126, 133 to 137 inclusive, 149,.
150, 146, 147, 148, 59, 65, 66, 67, 118, 125, 127,
128, 129, 138.—According to this distribution, only
45 are positively assigned to David.
Josephus, and most of the ancient writers, assert,,
that the Psalms were composed in numbers : little,
however, respecting the nature and principles of the
Hebrew versification is known. 40
There existed a certain kind of poetry among the He- Ohserva--
brews, principally intended,-it would appear, for the011 ,lj*-
assistance of the memory; in which, when there was lit-
tie connexion between the sentiments, a sort ot order or
method was preserved, by the initial letters of each line
or stanza following the order of the alphabet. Of this
there are several examples extant among the sacred
poems (1) ; and in these examples the verses are so ex¬
actly marked and defined, that it is impossible to mistake
them for prose ; and particularly if we attentively con¬
sider the verses, and compare them with one another,
since they are in general so regularly accommodated,
that word answers to word, and almost syllable to syl¬
lable. This being the case, though an appeal can-
scarcely be made to the ear on this occasion, the eye
itself will distinguish the poetic division and arrange¬
ment, and also that some labour and accuracy has been
employed in adapting the words to the measure.
The Hebrew poetry has likewise another property
altogether peculiar to metrical composition. It admits
foreign words and certain particles, which seldom occur
in prose composition, and thus forms a distinct poetical
dialect. One or two of the peculiarities also of the
Hebrew versification it may be proper to remark, which,
as they are very observable in those poems in which the
verses are defined by the initial letters, may at least be
reasonably conjectured of the rest. The first of these
is, that the verses are very unequal in length; the short¬
est consisting of six or seven syllables; the longest ex¬
tending-
(1) Psalms xxv. xxxiv. xxxvii. cxi. cxii. cxix. cxlv. Prov. xxxi. from the 10th verse to the end- Ine*
whole of the Lamentations of Jeremiah except the last chapter.
S C R I P T U H E.
792
Scripture, tending to about twice that number: the same poem is,
however, generally continued throughout in verses not
very unequal to each other. It must also be observed,
that the close of the verse generally falls where the
members of the sentences are divided.
But although nothing certain can be defined concern¬
ing the metre of the particular verses, there is yet ano¬
ther artifice of poetry to be remarked of them when in
a collective state, when several of them arc taken toge¬
ther. In the Hebrew poetry, as is formerly remarked,
there may be observed a certain conformation of the
sentences; the nature of which is, that a complete sense
is almost equally infused into every component part,
and that every member constitutes an entire verso. So
that, as the poems divide themselves in a manner sponta¬
neously into periods, for the most part equal; so the pe¬
riods themselves are divided into verses, most common¬
ly couplets, though frequently of greater length. This
is chiefly observable in those passages which frequently
occur in the Hebrew poetry, in which they treat one
subject in many different ways, and dwell on the same
sentiment; when they express the same thing in differ¬
ent w'ords, or different things in a similar form of words;
when equals refer to equals, and opposites to opposites:
and since this artifice of composition seldom fails to pro¬
duce even in prose an agreeable and measured cadence
—we can scarcely doubt that it must have imparted
•to their poetry, were we masters of the versification,
41 an exquisite degree of beauty and grace.
Peculiar!- The elegant and ingenious Dr Lowth has with great
neb lt- acuteness examined the peculiarities of Hebrew poetry,
and has arranged them under general divisions. The
correspondence of one verse or line with another he calls
parallelism. When a proposition is delivered, and a
second is subjoined to it, equivalent or contrasted with
it in sense, or similar to it in the form of grammatical
-construction, these he calls parallel lines; and the
words or phrases answering one to another in the cor¬
responding lines, parallel terms. Parallel lines he re¬
duces to three sorts ; parallels synonymous, parallels
antithetic, and parallels synthetic. Of each of these
we shall present a few examples.
First, of parallel lines synonymous, which corre¬
spond one to snother by expressing the same sense in
different but equivalent terms.
O-Jehovah, in-thy-strength tfie-king shall-rejoice;
And-in-thy-salvation how greatly shall-he-exult!
The-desire of-his-heart thou-hast-granted unto-him ;
And-the-request of-his-lips thou-hast-not denied.
Ps. xxi. 1, 2.
Because I-called, and-ye-refused ;
I-stretched-out my-hand, and-no-one regarded ;
But-ye-have-defeated all my-counsel;
And-would-not incline to-my-reproof:
I also will-laugh at-your-calamity ;
I-will-mock, when-what-you-feared cometh ;
When-what-you-feared cometh like-a-devastation ;
And-your-calamity advanceth like-a-tempest;
When distress and-anguish come upon-you :
Then shall-they-call-upon-me, but-I-wdll-not answer;
They-sball-seek-me-early, but-they-shall-not find-me ;
Because they-hated knowledge ;
And-did-not choose the-fear of-Jehovah;
Did-not incline to-my-counsel ;
Contemptuously-rejected all my-reproof;
Therefore-shall-they-eat of-the-fruit of-their-ways ;
And-shall-be-satiated with-their-own-devices.
For the-defection of-the-simple shall-slay-them ;
And-the-security of-fools shall-destroy them.
Prov. i. 24—32.
Seek-ye Jehovah, while-he-maj^-be-found ;
Call-ye-upon-him, while-he-is near;
Let-the-wicked forsake his-way;
And-the-unrighteous man his-thoughts :
And-let-him-return to Jehovah, and-he-will compas-
sionate-him ;
And unto our-God, for he-aboundeth in-forgive¬
ness. (k) Isaiah Iv. 6, 7.
These synonymous parallels sometimes consist of
two, three, or more synonymous terms. Sometimes
they are formed by a repetition of part of the first
sentence. As,
What shall I do unto thee, O Ephraim!
What shall I do unto thee, O Judah!
For your goodness is as the morning cloud,
And as the early dew it passeth away.
Hosea, vi. 4.
The following is a beautiful instance of a parallel
triplet, when three lines correspond and form a kind
of stanza, of which two only are synonymous.
That day, let it become darkness ;
Let not God from above inquire after it,
Nor let the flowfing light radiate upon it.
That night, let utter darkness seize it;
Let it not be united with the days of the year;
Let it not come into the number of the months.
Let the stars of its twilight be darkened ;
Let it look for light, and may there be none ;
And let it not behold the eyelids of the morning.
Job iii. 4, 6, 9.
The second sort of parallels are the antithetic, when
two lines correspond with one another by an opposition
of terms and sentiments; when the second is contrasted
with the first, sometimes in expressions, sometimes in
sense only. Accordingly the degrees of antithesis are
various: from an exact contraposition of word to word
through the whole sentence, down to a general dispa¬
rity, with something of a contrariety, in the two pro¬
positions. Thus in the following examples :
A wise son rejoiceth his father ;
But a foolish son is the grief of his mother.
Prov. x. 1.
Where every word hath its opposite; for the terms
father and mother are, as the logicians say, relatively
opposite.
The memory of the just is a blessing ;
But the name of the wicked shall rot. Prov. x. 7-
Here
(k) All the words bound together by hyphens answer to single words in Hebrew.
SCRIP
Scripture.^ jjere are onjy two a^i^gtJg terms. for memory
and name are synonymous.
There is that scattereth, and still increaseth ;
And that is unreasonably sparing, yet groweth poor.
Prov. xi. 24.
Here there is a kind of double antithesis; one be¬
tween the two lines themselves; and likewise a subor¬
dinate opposition between the two parts of each.
These in chariots, and those in horses ;
But we in the name of Jehovah our God will be strong.
They are bowed down, and fallen ;
But we are risen, and maintain ourselves firm.
Ps. xx. 7, 8.
For his wrath is but for a moment, his favour for life ;
Sorrow may lodge for the evening, but in the morning
gladness. Ps. xxx. 5.
Yet a little while, and the wicked shall be no more;
Thou shall look at his place, and he shall not be found :
But the meek shall inherit the land ;
And delight themselves in abundant prosperity.
Ps. xxxvii. 10, 11.
In the last example the opposition lies between the
two parts of a stanza of four lines, the latter distich be¬
ing opposed to the former. So likewise the following i
For the mountains shall be removed ;
And the hills shall be overthrown :
But my kindness from thee shall not be removed ;
And the covenant of my peace shall not be overthrown.
Isaiah liv. 10.
Isaiah by means of the antithetic parallelism, without
departing from his usual dignity, adds greatly to the
sweetness of his composition in the following instances:
T U R E. 793
The third sort of parallels is the synthetic or con- Scripture*
structive : where the parallelism consists only inthe ——y—
similar form-of construction; in which word does not
answer to wmrd, and sentence to sentence, as equivalent
or opposite; but there is a correspondence and equality
between different propositions, in respect of the shape
and turn of the whole sentence, and of the constructive
parts; such as noun answering to noun, verb to verb,
member to member, negative to negative, interrogative
to interrogative.
Lo! he withholdeth the waters, and they are dried up:
Andhesendeththem forth, and they overturn the earth.
With him is strength, and perfect existence;
The deceived, and the deceiver are his.
Job xii. 13—16.
Is such then the fast which I choose ?
That a man should afflict his soul for a day ?
Is it, that he should bow down his head like a bulrush,
And spread sackcloth and ashes for his couch ?
Shall this be called a fast,
And a day acceptable to Jehovah ?
Is not this the fast that I choose ?
To dissolve the bands of wickedness ;
To loosen the oppressive burdens ;
To deliver those that are crushed by violence ;
And that ye should break asunder every yoke ?
Is it not to distribute thy bread to the hungry ?
And to bring the wandering poor into thy house ?
When thou seest the naked, that thou clothe him ;
And that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh ?
Then shall thy light break forth like the morning ;
And thy wounds shall speedily be healed over:
And thy righteousness shall go before thee ;
And the glory of Jehovah shall bring up thy rear.
Isaiah Iviii. 5—8.
In a little anger have I forsaken thee ;
But with great mercies will I receive thee again :
In a short wrath I hid my face for a moment from thee ;
But with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee.
Isaiah liv. 7, 8.
Behold my servants shall eat, but ye shall be famished;
Behold my servants shall drink, but ye shall be thirsty ;
Behold my servants shall rejoice, but ye shall be con¬
founded ;
Behold my servants shall sing aloud, for gladness of
heart,
But ye shall cry aloud for grief of heart;
And in the anguish of a broken spirit shall ye howrl.
Isaiah Ixv. 13, 14.
Frequently one line or member contains two senti¬
ments :
The nations raged ; the kingdoms were moved ;
He uttered a voice ; the earth was dissolved:
Be still, and know that I am God :
I will be exalted in the nations, I will be exalted in the
earth. Ps. xlvi. 6, 10.
"When thou passest through waters I am with thee ;
And through rivers, they shall not overwhelm thee :
When thou walkest in the fire thou shall not be .scorched;
And the flame shall net cleave to thee.
Isaiah xliii. 2.
We shall produce another example of this species of
parallelism from Ps. xix. 8—11. from Hr Lowth :
The law of Jehovah is perfect, restoring the soul;
The testimony of Jehovah is sure, making wise the
simple:
The precepts of Jehovah are right, rejoicing the heart;
The commandment of Jehovah is clear, enlightening
the eyes :
The fear of Jehovah is pure, enduring for ever;
The judgments of Jehovah are truth, they are just al¬
together ;
More desirable than gold, or than much fine gold;
And sweeter than honey, or the dropping of honey¬
combs.
Synonymous parallels have the appearance of art and
concinnity, and a studied elegance; they chiefly prevail
in shorter poems; in many of the Psalms; in Balaam’s
prophecies ; frequently in those of Isaiah, which are
most of them distinct poems of no great length. The
antithetic parallelism gives an acuteness and force to
adages and moral sentences ; and therefore abounds in
Solomon’s Proverbs, and elsewhere is not often to be
met with. The poem of Job, being on a large scale
and in a high tragic style, though very exact in the di¬
vision of the lines and in the parallelism, and affording
many fine examples of the synonymous kind, consists
f 5 H chiefly
Vol. XVIII. Part II.
794
SCRIPTURE.
42
The book
of Pro¬
verbs.
* 'bUr'tt
Scripture, chiefly of the constructive. A happy mixture of the
--—Nr—'several sorts gives an agreeable variety ; and they mu-
tually serve to recommend and set off one another.
The reader will perceive that we have derived every
thing we have said relating to Hebrew poetry from the
elegant lectures of Dr Lowth, which are beautifully
translated by Mr Gregory, a distinguished author as
well as translator.
The book of Proverbs has always been accounted ca¬
nonical. The Hebrew title of it is Mishli *, which sig¬
nifies “ similitudes.” It has always been ascribed to So¬
lomon, whose name it bears, though some have doubted
whether he really was the author of every one of the
maxims which it contains. Those in chap. xxx. are in¬
deed called the words of Agnr the son of Jakeh, and
the title of the 31st or last chapter is the words of
King Lemuel. It seems certain that the collection call¬
ed the Proverbs of Solomon was digested in the order in
which we now have it by different hands; but it is
not, therefore, to be concluded that they are not the
work of Solomon. Several persons might have made
collections of them : Hezekiah, among others, as men¬
tioned chapter xxv. Agur and Ezra might have done
the same. From these several collections the work was
compiled which we have now in our hands.
The book of Proverbs may be considered under five
divisions. 1. The first, which is a kind, erf preface, ex¬
tends to the 10th chapter. This contains general cau¬
tions and exhortations from a teacher to his pupil, ex¬
pressed in elegant language, duly connected in its parts,
illustrated with beautiful description, and wrell contrived
to engage and interest the attention.
2. The second part extends from the beginning of
chap. x. to chap. xxii. 17. and consists of what may
strictly and properly be called proverbs, viz.unconnect¬
ed sentences, expressed with much neatness and sim¬
plicity. They are truly, to use the language of their
sage author “ apples of gold in pictures of silver. ”
3. In the third part, which is concluded between
chapter xxii. 16. and chapter xxv. the tutor drops the
sententious style, addresses his pupil as present, and
delivers his advices in a connected manner.
4. The proverbs which are included between chapter
xxv. and chapter xxx. are supposed to have been select¬
ed by the men of Hezekiah from seme larger collection
of Solomon, that is, by the prophets whom he employed
to restore the service and writings of the church. Some
of the proverbs which Solomon had introduced into the
former part of the book are here repeated.
5. The prudent admonitions which Agur delivered to
his pupils Ithiel and Ucal a^e contained in the 30th
chapter, and in the 31 st are recorded the precepts which
the mother of Lemuel delivered to her son.
Several references are evidently made to the book of
*- Horn. xii. Proverbs by the writers of the New Testament, f
16, 20. The Proverbs of Solomon afford specimens of the
i Ue iv. Jhhietic poetry of the Hebrews. They abound with
antithetic parallels ; for this form is peculiarly adapted
to that kind of writing, to adages, aphorisms, and de¬
tached sentences. Indeed, the elegance, acuteness, and
force of a great number of Solomon's wise sayings arise
in a great measure from the antithetic form, the oppo¬
sition of diction and sentiment. Take the following ex¬
amples.
Scripture.
James iv
6.
The blows of a friend are faithful;
But the kisses of an enemy are treacherous. u—i
The cloyed will trample on an honeycomb ;
But to the hungry every bitter thing is sweet.
There is who maketh himself rich, and wanteth all
things ;
Who maketh himself poor, yet hath much wealth.
The rich man is wise in his own eyes,
But the poor man that hath discernment to trace him
out will despise him. * * Proverbs
xxvii. 6. 7.
The Hebrew title of the book which we call Eccle-^
siastes is Kehth, that is, the Gatherer or Collector ; and 45
it is so called, either because the work itself is a col- Eccles.ias-
leclion of maxims, or because it was delivered to an as-te3,
sembly gathered together to hear them. The Greek
term Ecclesiastes is of the same import, signifying one
who gathers together a congregation, or who discourses
or preaches to an assembly convened. That Solomon
was the author of this book is beyond all doubt; the
beautiful description of the phenomena in the natural
world, and their causes; of the circulation of the blood,
as some think, f and the economy of the human frame,-): See Hor-
shows it to bo the work of a philosopher. At whatsfcy’s Ser-
period of his life it was written may be easily foundmon bl’t°re
out. The affecting account of the infirmities of old^’^
age which it contains, is a strong indication that the ciety.
author knew by experierce what they were ; and his
complete conviction of the vanity of all earthly enjoy¬
ments proves it to have been the work of a penitent.
Some passages in it seem, indeed, to express an Epicu¬
rean notion of Frovidence. But it is to be observed,
that the author, in an academic way, disputes on both
sides of the question; and at last concludes properly,
that to “ fear God and keep his commandments is the
whole duty of man ; for God (says he) will bring every
w'ork to judgment, and every secret thing, whether it
be good, or whether it be evil. ”
The general tenor and style of Ecclesiastes is very dif¬
ferent from the book of Proverbs, though there are
many detached sentiments and proverbs interspersed. Lcnvth't
For the whole work is uniform, and confined to one Hebrcw
subject, namely, the vanity of the wrorld exemplified by 10Ctr,J'
the experience of Solomon, who is introduced in the cha¬
racter of a person investigating a very difficult question,
examining the arguments on either side, and at length
disengaging himself from an anxious and doubtful dis¬
putation. It would be very difficult to distinguish the
parts and arrangement of this production: the order of
the subject, and the connexion of the arguments, are
involved in so much obscurity, that scarcely any two
commentators have agreed concerning the plan of the
work, and the accurate division of it into parts or sec¬
tions. The truth is, the laws of methodical composi¬
tion and arrangement were neither known by the He¬
brew's nor regarded in their didactic waitings. They
uniformly retained the old sententious manner, nor did
they submit to method, even where the occasion ap¬
peared to demand it. The style of this work is, how¬
ever, singular; the language is generally low; it io fre¬
quently loose, unconnected, approaching to the incor¬
rectness of conversation ; and possesses very little of the
poetical character, even in the composition and structure
of the periods: which peculiarity may possibly be ac¬
counted
s c r; i p t u r e.
795
Script-are. counted for from the nature of the subject. Contrary
1 to tiie opinion of the Rabbies, Ecclesiastes has been
classed among the poetical books ; though, if their
authority and opinions were of any weight or import¬
ance, they might perhaps on this occasion deserve
44 some attention.
-Fong of The Song of Solomon, in the opinion of Dr Lowth,
Solomon. js an epithaiamium or nuptial dialogue, in which the
principal characters are Solomon, his bride, and a cho¬
rus of virgins. Some are of opinion that it is to be
taken altogether in a literal sense; but the generality
of Jews and Christians have esteemed it wholly allego¬
rical, expressing the union of Jesus Christ and the
church. Dr Lowth has supported the common opi¬
nion, by showing that the sacred writers often apply
metaphors to God and his people derived from the
conjugal state. Our Saviour is styled a bridegroom by
John the Baptist (John iii.), and is represented in the
same character in the parable of the ten virgins. Mi-
chaelis, on the other hand, rejects the argument drawa
from analogy as inconclusive, and the opinion of Jews
and Christians as ef no greater authority than the
opinion of the moderns.
The second of those great divisions under which the
Jews classed the books of the Old Testament was that
of the Prophets, which formerly comprehended 16
books.
Tiie Prophets were 16 in number: Isaiah, Jeremiah,
Ezekiel, Daniel, Mosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah,
Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Ilaggai, Ze-
chariah, Malachi. The first four are called t\\egreater
prophets ; the other twelve are denominated the minor
45 prophets.
Writings The writings of the Prophets are to Christians the
of the pro- most interesting part of the Old Testament; for they
IiaL s' afford one of the most powerful arguments for the di¬
vine origin of the Christian religion. If we could on¬
ly prove, therefore, that these prophecies were utter¬
ed a single century before the events took place to
which they relate, their claim to inspiration would be
unquestionable. But we can prove that the interval
between their enunciation and accomplishment ex¬
tended much farther, even to 500 and 1000 years,
46 and in some cases much more.
Their au- The books of the prophets are mentioned by Jo-
ihenticity, ggphus, and therefore surely existed inhis time; they are
also quoted by our Saviour, under thegeneral denomina¬
tion of the Prophets. We are informed by Tacitus and
Suetonius, that about 60 years before the birth of our
Saviour there was an universal expectation in the east
of a great personage who was to arise ; and the source
of this expectation is traced by the same writers to the
sacred books of the Jews. They existed also in the
time of Antiochus Epiphanes, A. C. 161; for w'hen
that tyrant prohibited the reading of the law, the books
of the Prophets were substituted in its place, and were
continued as a part of the daily service after the inter¬
dict against the law of Moses was taken off. We for¬
merly remarked, that references are made by the author
of Ecclesiasticus, A. C. 200, to the writings of Isaiah,
Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, and that he mentions the 12
Prophets. We can ascend still higher, and assert from
the language of the Prophets, that all their writings
must have been composed before the Babylonish capti¬
vity, or within a century after it; for all of them, ex-
1
copt Daniel and Ezra, are composed in Hebrew, and Scripture,
even in them long passages are found in that language ; ——
hut it is a well known fact, that all the books written
by Jews about two Centuries after that era are compos¬
ed in the Syriac, Chaldaic, or Greek language. ‘‘ Let
any man (says Michaelis) compare what was written
in Hebrew after the Babylonish exile, and, I appre¬
hend, he will perceive no less evident marks of decay
than in the Latin language. ” Even in the time of Ez¬
ra, the common people, from their long residence in
Bab\ Ion, had forgotten the Hebrew, and it was ne¬
cessary for the learned to interpret the law of Moses to
them. We can therefore ascertain with very consider¬
able precision the date of the prophetic writings; which
indeed is the only important'point to he determined :
For whether we can discover the authors or not, if we
can only establish their ancient date, we shall be fully
entitled to draw this conclusion, that the predictions
of the Prophets are inspired. 47
Much has been written to explain the nature of in-andimpira.-
smration, and to show by what methods God imparted41011'
to the Prophets that dhine knowledge which they
were commanded to publish to their countrymen. At¬
tempts have been made to disclose the natur d of dreams
and visions, and to desci ibe the ecstacy or rapture to
which the prophets were supposed to be raised while
they uttered their predictions. Not to mention the
degrading and indecent comparison which this last cir¬
cumstance suggests, we shah only inform those who ex¬
pect here an explanation ef the prophetic dreams and
visions, that xee shall not attempt to be ivise above ivhat is
written. The manner in which the allwise and unseen
God may think proper to operate upon the minds of
his creatures, we might expect a priori to he mysterious
and inexplicable. Indeed such an inquiry, though it
were successful, would only gratify curiosity, without
being in the least degree conducive to useful know¬
ledge.
The business of philosophy is not to inquire how al¬
mighty power produced the frame of nature, and be¬
stowed upon it that beauty and grandeur which is every¬
where conspicuous, but to discover those marks of in¬
telligence and design, and the various purposes to which
the works of nature are subservient. Philosophy has
of late been directed to theology and the study of the
Scriptures with the happiest effects ; but it is not per¬
mitted to enter within the veil which the Lord of Na¬
ture has thrown over his councils. Its province, which
is sufficiently extensive, is to examioe the language of
the prophecies, and to discover their application. 4S
The character of the prophetic style varies according
to the genius, the education, and mode of living oi thestyje synii,
respective authors ; and there are some peculiaritiesbolicaU
which run through the whole prophetic books. A
plain unadorned style would not have suited those men
who were to wrap the mysteries of futurity in a veil,
which was not to be penetrated till the events themselves
should be accomplished. For it was never the inten¬
tion of prophecy to unfold futurity to our view, as
many of the rash interpreters of prophecy fondly ima¬
gine ; for this would be inconsistent with the free
agency of man. It was therefore agreeable to the wis¬
dom of God that prophecies should be couched in a lan¬
guage which would render them umnrelligibie till the
period of their completion ; yet such a language as is
5 H 2 distinct.
796
SCRIP
Scripture.
49
Borrowed
from ana-
logy,
50
and from
hierogly¬
phics.
distinct, regular, and would be easily explained when
the events themselves should have taken place. This
is precisely the character of the prophetic language.
It is partly derived from the hieroglyphical symbols of
Egypt, to which the Israelites during their servitude
were familiarized, and partly from that analogy which
subsists between natural objects and those which are
moral and political.
The prophets borrowed their imagery from the most
splendid and sublime natural objects, from the host of
heaven, from seas and mountains, from storms and
earthquakes, and from the most striking revolutions in
nature. The celestial bodies they used as symbols to
express thrones and dignities, and those who enjoyed
them. Earth was the symbol for men of low estate.
Hades represents the miserable. Ascending to heaven,
-and descending to earth, are phrases which express ris¬
ing to power, or falling from it. Great earthquakes,
the shaking of heaven and earth, denote the commo¬
tions and overthrow of kingdoms. The sun represents
the whole race of kings shining with regal power and
glory. The moon is the symbol of the common peo¬
ple. The stars are subordinate princes and great men.
Light denotes glory, truth, or knowledge. Darkness
expresses obscurity of condition, error and ignorance.
The darkening of the sun, the turning of the moon into
blood, and the falling of the stars, signify the destruc¬
tion or desolation of a kingdom. Neio moons, the re¬
turning of a nation from a dispersed state. Confa-
gration of the earth, is the symbol for destruction by
war. The ascent of smoke from any thing burning for
ever, denotes the continuance of a people under sla¬
very. Riding in the clouds, signifies reigning over many
subjects. Tempestuous minds, or motion of the clouds,
denote wars. Thunder denotes the noise of multitudes.
Fountains of maters express cities. Mountains and
islands, cities with the territories belonging to them.
Houses and ships stand for families, assemblies, and
towns. A forest is put for a kingdom. A milderness
for a nation much diminished in its numbers.
Animals, as a lion, bear, leopard, goat, are put for
kingdoms or political communities corresponding to
their respective characters. When a man or beast is
put for a kingdom, the head represents those who go¬
vern ; the tail those who are governed ; the horns de¬
note die number of military powers or states that rise
from the head. Seeing signifies understanding ; eyes
men of understanding ; the mouth denotes a lawgiver ;
the arm of a man is put for power, or for the people
by whose strength his power is exercised ; feet repre¬
sent the lowest of the people.
Such is the precision and regularity of the prophetic
language, which we learn to interpret by comparing
prophecies which are accomplished with the facts to
which they correspond. So far is the study of it car¬
ried already, that a dictionary has been composed to
explain it; and it is probable, that in a short time it
may be so fully understood, that we shall find little
difficulty in explaining any prophecy. But let us not
from this expect, that the prophecies will enable us to
3
T U R E.
penetrate the dark clouds of futurity: No! The diifi- Scripture,
eulty of applying prophecies to their corresponding
events, before completion, will still remain insurmount¬
able. Those men, therefore, however pious and well-
meaning they may be, who attempt to explain and ap¬
ply prophecies which are not yet accomplished, and
who delude the credulous multitude by their own ro¬
mantic conjectures, cannot be acquitted of rashness
and presumption. 51
The predictions of the prophets, according to theIs a\so
opinion of Dr Lowth, are written in a poetic style.poetica^
They possess indeed all the characteristics of Hebrew
poetry, with the single exception, that none of them
are alphabetical or acrostic, which is an artificial ar¬
rangement utterly repugnant to the nature of pro¬
phecy.
The other arguments, howrever, ought to be parti¬
cularly adverted to on this subject: the poetic dialect,
for instance, the diction so totally different from the
language of common life, and other similar circum¬
stances, which an attentive reader will easily discover,
but which cannot be explained by a few examples ;
for circumstances which, taken separately, appear but
of small account, are in a united view frequently of
the greatest importance. To these w^e may add the
artificial conformation of the sentences ; which is a
necessary concomitant of metrical composition, the
only one indeed which is now apparent, as it has al¬
ways appeared to us.
The order in which the books of the minor prophets
are placed is not the same in the Septuagint as in the
Hebrew. * According to the latter, they stand as in * Chrmoh-
our translation; but in the Greek, the series is altered £3/ °) the
as to the first six, to the following arrangement: Ho-Prol>lieis'
sea, Amos, Micah, Joel, Obadiah, Jonah. This change,
however, is of no consequence, since neither in the
original, nor in the Septuagint, are they placed with
exact regard to the time in which their sacred authors
respectively flourished.
The order in which they should stand, if chronologi¬
cally arranged, is by Blair and others supposed to be
as follows: Jonah, Amos, Hosea, Micah, Nahum, Joel,
Zephaniah, Habakkuk, Obadiah, Haggai, Zechariah,
Malachi. And this order will be found to be generally
consistent with the periods to which the Prophets will
be respectively assigned in the following pages, except
in the instance of Joel, who probably flourished ra¬
ther earlier than he is placed by these chronologists.
The precise period of this prophet, however, cannot
be ascertained; and some disputes might be maintain¬
ed concerning the priority of others also, when they
wrere nearly contemporaries, as Amos and Hosea; and
when the first prophecies of a later prophet were deli¬
vered at the same time with, or previous to, those of a
prophet who was called earlier to the sacred office. The
following scheme, however, in which also the greater
prophets will be introduced, may enable the reader
more accurately to comprehend the actual and relative
periods in which they severally prophesied.
Tire
SCRIPTURE,
797
Scripture.
The Prophets in their supposed Order of Time, arranged according to Blair’s Tables *
with but little variation.
Jonah,
Before Christ.
Kings of Judah.
Between 856
and 764.
Amos,
Hosea,
Isaiah,
Between 810
and 785.
Between 810
and 725.
Between 810
and 698.
Joel,
Micah,
Nahum,
Zephaniah,
Jeremiah,
Habakkuk,
Daniel,
Obadiah,
Ezekiel,
Haggai,
Zechariah,
Malachi,
Between 810
and 660, or
later.
Between 758
and 699.
Between 720
and 698.
Between 640
and 609.
Between 628
and 586.
Between 612
and 598.
Between 606
and 534.
Between 588
and 583.
Between 595
and 536.
About 520
to 518.
From 520 to
518, or longer.
Between 436
and 397.
Uzziah, chap. i. 1.
Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, the
third year of Hezekiah,
Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and
Hezekiah, chap. i. Land
perhaps Manasseh.
Uzziah, or possibly Manas¬
seh.
Jotham, Ahaz, and Heze¬
kiah, chap. i. 1.
Probably towards the close
of Hezekiah’s reign.
In the reign of Josiah, chap,
i. 1.
In the thirteenth year of
Josiah.
Probably in the reign of
Jehoiakim.
During all the Captivity.
Between the taking of Jeru¬
salem by Nebuchadnezzar
and the destruction of the
Edomites by him.
During part of the Capti¬
vity.
After the return from Baby¬
lon.
Kings of Israel.
Jehu, and Jehoahaz, accord¬
ing to Lloyd; but Joash
and Jeroboam the Second
according to Blair.
Jeroboam the Second,
chap. i. 1.
Jeroboam the Second,
chap. i. 1.
Pekah and Hosea.
Scripture.
* Bishop
New com e s
Version of
Minor .
Prophets,
Preface,
p. 43.
Isaiah
798 SCRIP
Kcripfim>. Isaiah is supposed to have entered on the prophe-
w •v-—-' *;c 0fpce iR the last year of the reign of Uzziah, about
Ib-i h 758 years before Christ : and it is certain that he lived
to the 15th or 16th years of Hezekiah. This makes
the least possible term of the duration of his propheti¬
cal office about 48 years- The Jews have a tradition
that Isaiah was put to death in the reign of Manasseh,
being sawn asunder with a wooden saw by the command
of that tyrant: but when we recollect how much the
traditions of the Jews were condemned by our Saviour,
we will not be disposed to give them much credit.
The time of the delivery of some of his prophecies is
either expressly marked, or sufficiently clear from the
history to which they relate. The date of a few others
may with some probability be deduced from internal
marks; from expressions, descriptions, and circum-
53 stances interwoven.
Character Isaiah, the first of the prophets both in order and
©t his style, dignity, abounds in such transcendent excellencies, that
he may be properly said to afford the most perfect mo¬
del of the prophetic poetry. He is at once elegant and
sublime, forcible and ornamented; he unites energy
J.mvth's with copiousness, and dignity with variety. In his sen-
luaiu/i. timents there is uncommon elevation and majesty ; in
his imagery' the utmost propriety, elegance, dignity,
and diversity; in his language uncommon beauty and
energy ; and, notwithstanding the obscurity of his sub¬
jects, a surprising degree of clearness and simplicity.
To these we may add, there is such sweetness in the
poetical composition of his sentences, whether it pro¬
ceed from art or genius, that if the Hebrew poetry at
present is possessed of any remains of its native grace
and harmony, we shall chiefly find them in the writ¬
ings of Isaiah : so that the saying of Ezekiel may most
justly be applied to this prophet:
Thou art the confirmed exemplar of measures,
t Full of wisdom, and perfect in beauty, j-
Isaiah greatly excels too in all the graces of method,
order, connexion, and arrangement: though in assert¬
ing this we must not forget the nature of the prophetic
impulse, which bears away the mind with irresistible
violence, and frequently in rapid transitions from near
lo remote objects, from human to divine; we must also
be careful in remarking the limits of particular predic¬
tions, since, as they are now extant, they are often im¬
properly connected, without any marks of discrimina¬
tion ; which injudicious arrangement, on some occasions,
creates almost insuperable difficulties. It is, in fact, a
body or collection of different prophecies, nearly allied
to each other as to the subject, which, for that reason,
having a sort of connexion, are not to be separated but
with the utmost difficulty. The general subject is the
restoration of the church. Its deliverance from capti¬
vity ; the destruction of idolatry ; the vindication of
the divine power and truth ; the consolation of the Is¬
raelites, the divine invitation which is extended to them;
their incredulity, impiety, and rejection; the calling in
of the Gentiles ; the restoration of the chosen people ;
the glory and felicity of the church in its perfect state;
and the ultimate destruction of the wicked—are all set
forth with a sufficient respect to order and method. If
we read these passages with attention, and duly regard
the nature and genius of the mystical allegory, at the
same time remembering that all these points have been
T U R E.
frequently touched upon in other prophecies promulg- Sonpturf,
ed at different times, we shall neither find any irregu-  v—■*-'
larity in the arrangement of the whole, nor any want
of order and connexion as to matter or sentiment in the
different parts. Dr Lowth esteems the whole book of
Isaiah to be poetical, a few passages excepted, which,
if brought together, would not at most exceed the bulk
of five or six chapters. ^
The 14th chapter of Isaiah is one of the most su-Unparalld.
blime odes in the Scripture, and contains one of theecl s;ib!nn‘-
noblest personifications to be found in the records ofy^ ^e,
poetry. ^ > # ter. ^
The prophet, after predicting the liberation of the
Jews from their severe captivity in Babylon, and their
restoration to their own country, introduces them as re¬
citing a kind of triumphal song upon thd fall of the Ba¬
bylonish monarch, replete with imagery, and with the
most elegant and animated personifications. A sudden
exclamation, expressive of their joy and admiration on
the unexpected revolution in their affairs, and the de¬
struction of their tyrants, forms the exordium of the
poem. The earth itself triumphs with the inhabitants
thereof; the fir-trees and the cedars of Lebanon (under
which images the parabolic style frequently delineates
the kings and princes of the Gentiles) exult with joy,
and persecute with contemptuous reproaches the hum¬
bled power of a ferocious enemy.
The whole earth is at rest, is quiet; they burst forth
into a joyful shout:
Even the fir-tres rejoice over thee, the cedars of Le¬
banon :
Since thou art fallen, no feller hath come up against us.
This is followed by a bold and animated personifi¬
cation of Hades, or the infernal regions.
Hades from beneath is moved because of thee, to meet
thee at thy coming :
He rouseth for thee the mighty dead, all the great
chiefs of the earth ;
He maketh to rise up from their thrones all the kings
of the nations.
Hades excites his inhabitants, the ghosts of princes,
and the departed spirits of kings : they rise immediate-'
ly from their seats, and proceed to mock the monarch
of Babylon ; they insult and deride him, and comfort
themselves with the view of his calamity.
Art thou, even thou too, become weak as we ? art thou
made like unto us ?
Is then thy pride brought down to the grave; the
sound of thy sprightly instruments ?
Is the vermin become thy couch, and the earthworm
thy covering ?
Again, the Jewish people are the speakers, in an ex¬
clamation after the manner of a funeral lamentation,
which indeed the whole form of this composition ex¬
actly imitates. The remarkable fall of this powerful
monarch is thus beautifully illustrated.
Flow art thou fallen from heaven, 0 Lucifer, son of
the morning 1
Art cut down from earth, thou that didst subdue the
nations !
Yet thou didst say in thy heart, I will ascend the hea¬
vens ;
Above
SCRIP
Pcnptitro. Above the stars of God I will exalt thy throne ;
~l-i And I will sit upon the mount of the divine presence,
on the sides of the north :
I will ascend above the heights of the clouds ; I will
be like the most High.
But thou shalt be brought down to the grave, to the
sides of the pit.
He himself is at length brought upon the stage,
boasting in the most pompous terms of his owrn power ;
which furnishes the poet with an excellent opportunity
of displaying the unparalleled misery of his downfal.
Some persons are introduced, who iind the dead car¬
case of the king of Babylon cast out and exposed;
they attentively contemplate it, and at last scarcely
know it to be his.
Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that
shook the kingdoms ?
That made the world like a desert, that destroyed the
cities ?
That never dismissed bis captives to their own home ?
All the kings of the nations? all of them,
Lie down in glory, each in his sepulchre :
But thou art cast out of the grave, as the tree abomi¬
nated :
Clothed with the slain, with the p;erced by the sword,
With them that go down to the stones of the pit; as
a trodden cares 30.
Thou shalt not be joined to them in burial;
Because thou hast destroyed thy country, thou hast
slain thy people:
The seed of evil doers shall nev^r be renowned.
They reproach him with being denied the common
TURK im
rites of sepulture, on account of the cruelty and atro- Scripture-
city of his conduct; they execrate his name, his off-l——v——'
spring, and their posterity. A solemn address, as of
the Deity himself, closes the scene ; and he denounces
against the king of Babylon, his posterity, and even
against the city which was the scene of their cruelty,
perpetual destruction, and confirms the immutability
of his own counsels by the solemnity of an oath.
How forcible is this imagery, how diversified, how
sublime ! how elevated the diction, the figures, the sen¬
timents !—The Jewish nation, the cedars of Lebanon,
the ghosts of departed kings, the Babylonish monarch,
the travellers who find his corpse, and last of all Jeho¬
vah himself, are the characters which support this beau¬
tiful lyric drama. One continued action is kept up,
or rather a series of interesting actions are connected
together in an incomparable whole. This, indeed, is
the principal and distinguished excellence of the su-
blirr.er ode, and is displayed in its utmost perfection
in this poem of Isaiah, which may be considered as
one of the most ancient, and certainly the most finish¬
ed, specimen of that species of composition which has
been transrutted to us. The personifications here are
fcquent, yet not confused ; bold, yet not improbable;
a free, elevated, and truly divine spirit, pervades the
whole ; nor is there any thing wanting in this ode to
defeat its claim to the character of perfect beauty and
sublimity. “ If (says Dr Lowth) I may be indulged
in the free declaration of my own sentiments on this
occasion, I do not know a single instance in the whole
compass of Greek and Roman poetry, which, in every
excellence of composition, can be said to equal, or
even approach it. ”
A
SCRIPTURE continued in next Volume.
END OF THE EIGHTEENTH VOLUME
DIRECTIONS for placing the PLATES of Vol. XVIII.
Part I.
Plate CCCCLXII. to face
CCCCLXIII. CCCCLXIV.
CCCCLXV.
CCCCLXVI.
CCCCLXVII.
page 88
268
280
316
348
Part II.
CCCCLXVIII.
CCCCLXIX.
CCCCLXX CCCCLXXVI.
CCCCLXXVII.
452
524
568
580
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